

MOURNING'S SONG

Kevin Doyle

Copyright 2010 by Kevin Doyle

Smashwords Edition

e-mail: mourningssong@yahoo.ca
PROLOGUE

They had spent so many hours. Four days of a six-day hike to achieve a moment of personal glory. For years to come they would describe their journey to family and friends how they felt like they were standing on top of the world, so close to that unknown heaven. Another pound of flesh, another bucket of sweat, and they will have achieved their goal. A few more hours and they would be at the summit of the mountain, where they could sit with the quiet satisfaction, then turn around and head back the way they had come, towards home. One more expedition proudly tucked under their belts.

The two young men crested the ridge onto a plateau and were given their first taste of the majestic view awaiting them at the summit. The sky was clear providing a full view of the landscape for miles around.

"Beats the hell out of any Ansel Adams," the shorter of the two said.

His friend let out a light chuckle, too enraptured by the surrounding beauty to make a verbal agreement.

The shorter one, named Brian, let his pack slide off his shoulders and bent down to rummage through the large sack of hiking necessities for one of the energy bars he knew was stowed away somewhere inside. His companion, John, had his binoculars in hand and pressed them to his eyes. He stood there, his short cropped, black hair, standing in defiance to the light breeze, as he slowly surveyed the now magnified terrain.

"Wow! This is breath taking," John stated. "We've been to some pretty impressive places, but this has got to be my favourite so far!"

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Brian agreed. "I feel I could stay here forever; half the time I am at work I dream of escaping and just living out here, living off the land. Then I think about meat and the fact I cannot hunt and it's back to weekend expeditions with you."

And there had been quite a few of those, expeditions, weekend adventures. These two had been best friends since second grade. They had grown up together, shared the good times and had each other's backs in the bad. Now that they were in their early twenties, those never-ending years of education behind them, they spent every moment they could out in the mountains.

"Why don't we make camp here and then tomorrow we can just take our time going up to the summit?" John asked, wanting to prolong his stay as much as possible.

Securing the desired snack from the confines of his pack, Brian pushed up on his tanned, muscled legs and walked over to join his friend while peeling away the wrapper.

Beyond the meadow, reaching into the darkness of the forest, a shaped moved. Its red eyes slowly opened and it peered into the distance. Shifting, it released a low guttural growl. The surrounding shadows whispered in response.

He was dumbstruck. He pulled the binoculars away from his face, and with his left hand he rubbed his eyes; thinking in some rudimentary way that this would alter his vision. He then lifted the magnifying orbs back into place. It was still there. Unable to speak, he reached over and pulled on Brian's sweatshirt to get his attention.

"What?" Brian asked with a mildly aggravated tone.

"Look, over there," John demanded while passing the binoculars and pointing in the supposed direction. "That mountain...just off to the right...between those two peaks."

Brian peered in the general direction that John had pointed towards, but was unable to see anything out of the ordinary that would explain his friend's excitement.

Brian slowly shifted his gaze to the right and then snapped back quickly. He saw it, as if a mirage was slowly coming into clarity. Approximately three-quarters up the peak was a formation. It was so hard to see because of its dull grey colour, the same as the rocky terrain surrounding them, so much a part of the cliff, as it was a separate entity.

"It looks like some kind of tower. Part of the mountain side looks like it has a tower growing out of it!" Brian exclaimed.

"I know. What the hell, right?" Was all John could add.

"On our way home we will have to stop by the ranger's station and ask about it," Brian said. "Maybe it will be our next hiking candidate, but if it is anything special I am surprised we have never heard of it before."

"Next time?" John acted surprised. "We can't wait. C'mon, grab your gear and we'll get a closer look."

"Are you nuts?" Brian inquired insultingly. "That peak is at least another two day hike from here. We don't have the time to go traipsing all over the place."

"You've got to be kidding? We have probably just discovered some ancient relic and you're worried about being back in time for work on Monday. Don't you realise, with this discovery we'll have all the time in the world in our hands? We'll be famous!"

"There is no way some ancient relic is sitting out here undiscovered," Brian stood motionless, staring at the tower, mulling over John's argument in his mind. "It's probably not even what we think it is. It's nothing," he mumbled.

"Could be," John replied.

"Our eyes playing tricks on us?"

"Possibly," John added, knowing his friend was wavering in his resolve.

"Might be dangerous, or even a covert government installation?"

"Maybe!"

"Okay, God damn it!" Brian stated abruptly. "This is way out of our element, but I'm game."

"Great! Grab your stuff and we'll go make claim of our fame and fortune."

John quickly headed down the trail, and slowly, Brian followed. All the while mumbling to himself about the insanity of it all. Ancient relic?

The mountain was hollow and inhabited. On the outside it was a barren rock, lifeless, but inside survived a small society. Secret and hidden, unknown to the rest of the world, a clan of people surging with power; biding their time, waiting for the moment to explode from the mountain refuge like a volcano's lava, and wreak their domination over the world.

Surrounded by all forms of view screens and computers that depicted life in the outer world, he sat in the middle of the mountain's operations centre-brooding. His hulking frame filled the black, metallic, leather capped chair, with his elbow perched on the right armrest and his chalk white chin cupped in his powerful palm.

Armoured men sat all around him at their stations, attending to their required duties. The mirrored faceplates of their dark, full helmets reflected the screens, and myriad of colours that were emitted by the room's brimming technologies. Slowly, one of the soldiers swivelled in his chair to face the uncanny form sitting in the room's centre. The soldier raised himself to his feet in address. "My Lord?" He paused, waiting to be acknowledged, as a tinge of fear trickled up his spine.

With a speed worse than a snail, but with the grace of a lion, the one addressed as Lord raised his head. His cloud white brow knotted over his deep set, cold, grey eyes. The soldier felt himself shudder at those lifeless eyes. They burrowed into him, void of any emotion - but hate; bereft of any desire - but power. The soldier felt those two eyes searching his soul.

"My Lord," he stated again, regaining his composure. "We've picked up two intruders, to the North, in the possible sighting area." The poor messenger of the news could have sworn he saw that bald, white head in front of him blaze a fiery red tone of anger.

"Obviously, the fawn strolls leisurely through the lion's den," the Lord remarked, leaving the soldier confused, uncomprehending. "What an insult to this operation that two fools can wander so easily into my domain." He paused and let his tongue glide over his lipless mouth before he questioned to all ears in the room with a demanding tone. "Where are the Hunters? They should have dealt with this problem before it became one!"

He stood there for a moment, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes shifting from face to face, awaiting an answer. None was given. Dropping his powerful frame back into his chair, he began mulling over the decision of which one of the imbeciles before him would be the first to experience his disappointment.

Another soldier turned to face the Lord. "My Liege? I have just received an audio confirmation from the Hunters, and they have picked up on the trail of the intruders."

The Lord sat forward in his command chair. "Good. When and if, these two lost souls enter the radius I want a full visual."

"Yes, my lord," the soldier complied and quickly asserted himself back to his controls.

John floated with the excitement of a six-year-old boy who had just arisen out of bed on Christmas day. Brian ruefully followed, a plethora of all too imaginative fears sheathing him in a cold sweat. He knew his anxiety was unwarranted, but Brian found it impossible to ignore that sixth sense which continually whispered that things were going to change for the worse. Plus, there was no way to contact anyone at home, and if they travelled all the way to this new peak, they would be days late. His parents would be worried. Never mind his job that he could very well be kissing goodbye.

The edge of the earth began its daily venture of swallowing up the sun, and night followed like a hungry predator. With the sudden change in their expedition they both agreed to make camp early. A proper rest would be needed to revitalise themselves for the days ahead. They stopped in a small clearing, and as Brian began unloading the proper necessities from his pack he looked up at the grey peak from where his increasing anxiety originated. He took a small ounce of pleasure in the knowledge that, even after hours of hiking, it was still days away.

Not far away, in the surrounding forest, several figures drifted silently through the trees. Their feet dancing among the roots and rocks, as their eyes peered forward, searching for their prey.

Brian was hunched over the portable camping stove preparing the stew for their evening meal. John already had his binoculars out, again, and was investigating the mysterious tower in the now closer distance. A searing pain erupted in his side, and John fell to the ground, his binoculars bouncing across the rocky earth.

Startled, Brian turned to look at his friend. "Jesus, John! An arrow! You've been shot by an arrow?" Brian rushed up to his wounded companion's side pressing his hands down on the wound to apply pressure. "Dear Jesus, the blood."

John slowly swivelled, twisted, to inspect his wound, nearly losing consciousness at the sight of a reddening shaft protruding from his body. His blood flowed freely onto the earth, staining the grass a deep maroon shade of death.

"Oh my God! What...why?" John dazedly mumbled while fingering his wound. "There's no...hunters out here?" He strained his neck forward, forcing his gaze to shift towards the outlying trees.

Four figures emerged.

"There...see?" John said between gasping breaths, keeping his eyes focused on the approaching marauders.

Looking up towards the tree line, Brian played witness to the arrival of four monsters of men. Their eyes glowed a ruby red in contrast to their shadowy forms.

"Run," John wheezed.

"I can't...won't...leave you," Brian said with a voice shaken by the insurgence of fear filled adrenaline into his system.

"Go! Please...get away! Something is wrong with them!"

Brian glanced down at John, and then back at their assailants, then at John again. Their eyes locked for an instant, and a million words and a lifetime of feelings were exchanged. The shadowed forms edged closer.

"Hang on," Brain said as he grabbed John's arms and started pulling him away. His only thought was to escape, get away, but there was no way he could be fast enough.

Another arrow struck John in the shoulder and he screamed a blend of fear and agony.

"Run, Brian, go," John ordered in wheezing breathes.

"I'll get help. I'll be back with help!" Brian promised.

Leaving his equipment and friend behind, Brian bolted for the trees, repeatedly in his mind begging for forgiveness.

It was becoming harder for John to breathe, but he refused to let go of that smouldering spark of life. "I do not want to die. I do not want to die." Over and over the mantra was repeated in a soft, fading whisper. The shadow of a man descended upon him. Then the pain stopped, and everything went dark.

Running as fast as his legs would carry him, Brian crashed into the forest. Branches whipped his bare skin and tore at his flesh, but he did not even notice. He only ran.

He could not hear his pursuers behind him, and fear kept him from looking back over his shoulder. Brian knew they were there, following, gaining on him, and drawing closer.

In mid step his left leg exploded in a sudden flash of pain as an arrow ripped into it, causing him to go flailing towards the ground. Brian's face and chest went driving into the dirt as his right knee smashed against a rock that was peeking out of the soil. New shockwaves of agony rippled throughout his body. Tears escaped his eyes as he dug his fingers into Mother Earth's scalp, trying to drag his broken frame forward.

Wasted and in pain, Brian stopped. He rolled onto his back to see the blue of the sky in, what felt like, his final moment, but the four men surrounding him blocked his vision. One unsheathed a long, broad sword and raised it high above his head. Brian crossed his arms over his head in a vain attempt to protect himself, and his mouth hung open in a high pitched scream; giving his lungs their last release of air.

Inside the ominous mountain that white, lipless mouth creased into a smile. His Hunter's had succeeded, again. Their Liegelord's secret remained unbroken.
CHAPTER ONE

The fire violated the night sky as if the sun was giving birth to dawn. Twenty minutes ago the flames' searing touch began to reach out, and within a breath its dominating nature had engulfed the fifteen-story apartment building. Fifteen minutes ago the fire trucks arrived, and men clad in yellow and grey bravely stormed into the building. The war between man and nature had begun.

With all the residents safely evacuated from the reach of the vicious heat, the firemen focused their energies on subduing the increasing flames; striving to gain control before the building crumbled, or the demon flame jumped and began ravaging the neighbouring buildings. Like a phoenix the flames continued to rise. The war was on; the first battle being lost.

Surrounding neighbours who were wrenched from sleep by the wailing sirens and the roar of nature, too inquisitive to stay in the comfort of their own beds, quickly gathered outside to audience the misfortune of their evicted friends and neighbours.

Standing across the street in the glow of the hovering streetlight he watched the chaos. His black leather trench coat was pulled tightly close around him. The collar standing stiffly erect around his neck to ward off the evening chill that he couldn't even feel.

Since it all began, a few precious moments ago, he had been content to stand idly by and let the professionals do their jobs, not wanting to interfere, or bring attention to himself. With every passing second the flames were reaching higher. The onrushing tide of nature was winning the war.

Nature wasn't such a mystery to him. The flames were not some malevolent beasts out to murder and cause despair. It wasn't some unholy terror from the pits of hell sent to ravage the earth. It was a starving entity, given birth by some spark. It only sought to satiate its overwhelming hunger. A hunger that was driving it mad, out of control.

Casually he withdrew a cigarette from the crumpled packet in his pocket and placed it between his lips. Then, closing his eyes, he tilted his head backwards and opened his mind. Focussing, attuning his mind with the wind, air, altering the humidity, caressing the atmosphere with thoughtful persuasion.

The clear, black, starless night sky slowly began to acquire wisps of white cloud. The collage of white gathered, blanketing the sky above the inferno. The clouds shed their innocent white colour and evolved into an angry grey. The tide of nature had been coerced to change. The grey clouds opened, releasing their collection of tears.

When the rain began to fall the crowd and rescue workers cheered. The elation was violated by a woman's scream. Her fear filled voice forced the crowd into silence like a thunderclap.

"My baby!" The woman howled frantically, begging. "Somebody help me, my baby."

The stranger snapped to attention at the sound of her panicked voice. Withdrawing himself from the shadows he forced his way through the crowd to her. Grabbing her left arm from behind, he gently spun her so she was facing him.

"Calm down. Listen to me. Where is your baby?" He spoke to the mother softly.

"I thought she was with me. I thought she was with me. Right behind me," she chanted as the fat pellets of rain masked her worried tears. The panic in her voice began to rise again, drawing closer and closer to hysterics.

"Did she come out with you? Have you seen your baby since you came out?"

"No, dear God, no! Inside, my poor baby must still be inside. Alone, she's all alone in there. She's only four. My baby, my little girl."

Two of the firemen gathered beside the frantic woman and the stranger.

"What room is your apartment? What floor?" One of the firemen, obviously the chief, inquired.

She breathed in deeply trying to regain some composure. "12, 12-B," she said.

"The fire has already engulfed the first eleven floors, and is giving no sign of abating, even with this rain. We can't get up there. There is no way in hell we can send anyone up there," the two ashen-faced fire officials whispered to each other.

The stranger spoke calmly, directing her attention back at him again. "Don't worry, try to relax, it'll be okay. I promise you, I'll bring your baby out. I promise."

"Are you crazy?" The fire chief shouted while grabbing the stranger's arm. "Who the hell do you think you are? You will die in there. Leave it alone. Don't make promises you can't, I won't let you, keep." Who was this idiot? "You're torturing this poor woman with false hope."

"I have to try. There's a baby in there."

"I had to pull my men out because there is no way to reach the upper floors. Do you think I'm going to let you charge in there? I'm not going home tonight with two deaths on my conscience."

The stranger abruptly freed his arm from the chief's grasp, "A child is in there!"

"You'll be dead before you reach the second floor."

He walked towards the blazing inferno. The irony of the chief's words made him smile to himself. What was death to him, but a mere pause between breaths?

"Crazy mother!" The Chief shouted above the roar. "Stop that guy!" He felt like he was standing in centre ring at a nut house circus.

A powerful wind began to howl; yet it only seemed to affect the stranger. None of the spectators could feel it. They could only watch with amazement as the stranger's blond hair began to dance seductively with the solitary breeze, and his leather trench coat flailed out at the bottom, billowing.

To the collective crowd watching with their array of open mouths and wide eyes of wonderment, it was as if he was standing in an invisible elevator. The wind had encircled him, lifting his whole frame from the concrete sidewalk, quickly rising upward floor by floor, carrying him up like a child's lost balloon.

He rode the wind to the twelfth floor and the roaring flame's open arms eagerly beckoned him into their embrace. Without a thought he disappeared inside, masked by the black smoke fuming out of the broken window he had used as an entrance.

Inspired by the stranger's courage to walk into the open maw of certain death, combined with the miracle he had just witnessed, the fire chief rallied his men around himself. "This building may be a lost cause, but that man-whoever, or whatever he is-is putting his neck on the line to save a little girl. All we can do is damage control, I don't want any heroes rushing in there to help him, but let's do our best out here to hopefully make things easier for him to get the hell back out.

"I want this damn fire contained, and these people pushed back. You know your jobs, so let's move. Go! Go!"

The small army of men hurried off in every direction. Hope renewed, their determination solidified, and from what they thought were exhausted reserves new sources of energy were found to keep them going, pushing away the tired muscles that were tormenting each and every one of them.

He found himself amongst the wreckage of what was once the main corridor of the twelfth floor. The plaster on the walls had bubbled and been repainted black by the scorching smoke. The overhead lights had long ago shattered because of the extreme heat of the ever encroaching flames. In different sections the ceiling had already collapsed, leaving the upper floors exposed to the destructive fire.

It seemed as if everything had been melted and fused together, and he found it hard to discern where one apartment began, or another ended. He tried to listen beyond the roar of the fire and the cries of the building that was falling apart around him. He listened, but heard nothing, no cries from a lost and lonely child, nothing to give him any bearings on which direction to take.

The many apartment doors were either gone, crumbled into a pile of cinders, or the numbers stuck to them-identifying which apartment held residence to what people-were melded together in black globs of unreadable slag. The stranger realised that he had no clue as to what end of the long hall he had entered. He released a deep sigh of frustration at the conclusion that he would have to conduct his search apartment by apartment, room by room, wasting time. Every second he spent looking meant a higher probability that the promise he gave to the child's mother was going to remain forever broken. He would find the child, but he refused to tempt the thought that she may not be alive.

He pivoted on his right foot and shot his left leg into the door on his right hand side. Sparks and cinders flew wildly. The oxygen from the hall was drawn into the room, filling the flames suffocating lungs with a new breath of life. The flames shrunk in a back draft, and with a renewed vigour, leapt forward through the opened doorway, its gaping mouth rushing to swallow the stranger.

He instinctively fell back onto the ashen floor and threw his arms up in defence. A frigid wind rose up like a wall before him, keeping the flames hungry teeth at bay, slowly forcing the fire back into submission.

Bringing himself to his feet he wiped the steaming sweat from his forehead, leaving a smeared streak of black ash in his hand's wake. His left hand closed into a tight fist and he began to focus past the heat. A dark cloud formed before him and began pummelling the flames with its fat, hurried raindrops. Then a strong breeze ensued, pushing the blinding smoke away. The two forms of controlled weather worked in conjunction with each other, producing a safer path for him to travel.

Seconds had evolved into minutes and so far his efforts to locate the child had proven useless. His waning patience ate at him from the inside out. He had carefully inspected three quarters of the right side of the twelfth floor and come up with nothing, no child, alive or dead.

Then it came. Like a whisper that has passed through too many ears, a cough. He froze, trying to grasp where it had come from, near or far. The thunderous blaze seemed to howl even louder in contempt.

A child's cough, he heard it a second time, but where? Across the hall? Straight across? No! To the left? Crying, a faint sob. He had gone too far and been searching the wrong side. Another cough called out, weak; her lungs must be near suffocation, unable to expel the raping smoke. Across the hall. To the left. Focus. Don't lose her. No more time.

The stranger crashed into the hall, tripping over some piece of demented, smoking furniture, and slammed into the smouldering wall looming before him.

Get up.

Move.

His frustration caused him to lose focus on his protective rain cloud. It expanded and began releasing a new fury of rain on the fire.

He regained his footing, but before he could follow through with taking another step the wall before him, weakened by his recent impact, crumbled with a section of the ceiling.

His whole body was thrown violently through the doorway behind him. He came to an abrupt and painful landing on the burnt carpeting as the back of his head smashed against something hard and white hot. The searing smack to his head made him immediately leap up to his feet. White flashes of agony paraded behind his eyes and he bit down on his lower lip, breaking skin, trying to suppress the ignition of anger sparking inside of him; tempting him to irrationally release his full power on this insane fire.

Cursing himself for his clumsiness he cautiously made his way back into the hall, dodging debris with every step. He begged whatever god might be listening that the child was still alive.

The siren song of her lungs expelling smoke and the sobbing stopped. At first he thought he had lost her trail, but as he entered what was once a kitchen, he saw her, huddled in the corner with her back pressed up against the room's blackened refrigerator.

Urgently, he took off his trench coat and bent down to wrap it around her weak frame. Her innocent eyes slowly opened and locked with his as she chokingly whispered. "Mommy?"

The stranger lifted her off the floor and cradled her in his arms. "Your mom is waiting for you outside," he answered.

She lifted her arm and placed her tiny left palm against his cheek, drawing his gaze down to her sweaty, ash caked face. "Are you an angel?" She asked dreamily. She felt so fragile in his arms; the smoke and heat had drained her. The smell of burnt hair annoyed his nostrils; he should have found her faster.

"My name is David," he spoke as he made his way into the living room, his eyes desperately seeking a relatively safe passage while his voice held courage and tenderness for the little girl. "And you are?"

"Elicia, I'm four."

"Well, Elicia, do you believe in angels?" David saw the large, glass, sliding door leading to the apartment's balcony and began edging towards it.

"Guardian angels. My mommy said there were," Elicia murmured in answer.

The stranger, David stopped. The sliding door would either be too hot to touch, or would be welded shut by the outrageous heat. There was only one way.

"Oh no, no," he lightly shook her. "Don't fall asleep on me, honey." He was not a medic and had absolutely no clue what kind of internal damage she may have suffered, but he had a sick feeling in his gut that he had to keep her awake. "Elicia, can you do me a favour?"

"Uh-huh."

"I need you to keep your face hidden under my coat, and not look out until I say its okay. Can you do that for me?"

"Okay, I won't peek even once."

"Good. You are a brave little girl. Just do that for me, keep your face hidden and you'll be with your mom in no time."

He saw her smile sheepishly as he pulled his trench coat up over her head. She pressed against his chest in an attempt to find comfort from her fear.

David stepped back; putting some distance between himself and the sliding door, hoping it would be enough to keep the child from suffering any further harm.

The building wailed in agony, warning David that there was not much time before the whole structure fell apart. He opened his mind and let his commanding energies flow.

Outside the still air gathered. Rearing its head like a hungry dragon the tightly formed wind came charging at the thick glass door.

Struck by the makeshift battering ram the glass door imploded and shards of fractured, needle tipped, glass showered the room. David quickly turned, using his back as a shield to protect the helpless child cradled in his arms. He moved swiftly, almost carelessly, to the balcony of apartment 12-B, disappearing over the edge into the awaiting blackness of night.

Gentle winds buffeted his descent, as the cool night's chill swept through the shattered doorway to feed the dragon flames.

They all rushed at him at once; Paramedics, firemen, the child's mother, nosy spectators, and inquisitive reporters. Cameras flashed and a collage of voices all yammered together.

"My baby," the mother screeched.

"Dear God, man, you made it!" The Fire chief bellowed heroism.

"We need to get the child to an ambulance," a paramedic ordered.

"Stay clear, people," a cop steered the crowd.

"Mister, how did you survive the fire? How did you manage to find the lost child?" A reporter nosed in with a microphone in hand.

"Are you an angel, or some kind of freak?" Haloed by a series of camera flashes another reporter shouted.

It was too much. Overwhelmed, a sense of claustrophobia swept through him and he found himself resisting the urge to summon a tornado and carry them all off to a place made up of yellow stone roads.

He carefully passed the child, Elicia, to her mother and retrieved his black coat. The paramedics immediately began herding the two towards the ambulance.

Just before she was whisked away her tiny hand shot out of the confusion and grabbed his.

"I didn't even peek once," Elicia whispered above the noise, as her grasp on his hand was pulled away.

He smiled in response and floated into the air. Gone.

Three blocks away, David landed abruptly on the grass of a surrounding park, and flopped onto a wooden bench. He sat with his elbows perched on his knees, his face hidden in cupped hands, and cried. A cloak of depression wrapped its merciless talons around him. This was a face, an emotion, he rarely allowed anyone close to him to see. Storming into the blaze tonight was for the life of a little girl, but it was also for himself. Once again tempting fate, hopefully finding death's cold embrace, but like every other time he had rushed to feel that dark, bitter kiss he was denied. Denied the end, denied the knowledge and anticipation of that final, peaceful transition into the light of death.

People would enter and exit his life like tumbleweeds in the wind, while he would live forever.

Beyond time.

Immortal.

David sat up straight and the force of his exertion caused the wooden bench to creak under the strain. His lungs released a long sigh through his lips, hushing the tears he loathed so much.

He lit a cigarette and chuckled at himself, exhaling blue smoke through his nostrils, and before he could place the filter tipped stick to his lips again the communication device, implanted behind his left ear, beeped. It meant that there was trouble somewhere, like always. A second hailing beep tickled his annoyed eardrum. Break time was over. He looked at the glowing tip of his burning cigarette and let it fall to the pavement, in a flash of sparks, where it went rolling and smouldering into the sanctity of an extinguishing puddle.

Familiar winds swirled around him, lifting him effortlessly into the sky as he spoke into the hidden communicator, "This is Winterkill, go ahead."
CHAPTER TWO

Stardawn Enterprises was a towering seventy-five stories of glass and concrete that stood in the midst of the city's downtown district.

Wilson Donner stood at the edge of the balcony to his penthouse office. Except for the few lonesome security guards patrolling the halls of the multi-million dollar corporation, all of his employees had long ago retired from another hectic workday.

As the night neared the third hour of the a.m., Wilson was still standing on the balcony; his hands perched against the railing, as he had been for the past hour and fifteen odd minutes, watching. The camouflage of night would last for at least another four hours. Another 240 minutes of society's mayhem, 14,400 more seconds of the scavengers and vagrants scourging the innocent. His eyes glared at the city below. On this clear night the sleeping city sparkled like the stars. The lights reflected off of the buildings' glass windows, emanating an aura of serenity and beauty that he knew was nothing but a mask, hiding the truth of the concrete jungle below.

From where he was perched it was impossible to see, but he was able to envision the horrors that were taking place in the city's bowels of streets and alleyways. The hate and greed of humankind swept through the maze of buildings and houses like a long forgotten plague. The vermin were out there, adding to the list of sins they had committed towards their neighbours. Just as they had done to her.

Wilson pushed away the thought and memory immediately. He wanted to spend at least one night without travelling down the depressive pathways of the past.

The right hand left the railing and glided through his short cropped, salt and pepper hair as he realised it had been some time. "So long," he muttered to himself, and despite his best efforts to come to terms with the past, it had not been any easier with the passage of time. The pain had not subsided by ignoring the truth. He promised himself that tomorrow he would go visit her at her grave, the one that should have been his.

A hailing beep beckoned from the tiny communication device hidden behind his left ear. Choking back the flood of emotion rising up inside of him, Wilson Donner hurried back into his immense office. He manipulated his fingers to dance across a small console, mounted on the far right wall behind his desk, and half a breath later a section of the wall hissed open to reveal a hidden doorway that led into a small, private elevator. Wilson looked back over his right shoulder and stated to the office and its walls, "Lights!"

The office went dark, and Wilson Donner disappeared into the enveloping darkness of the elevator. A shadow finding its home as the wall hissed closed behind him.

It was cold, stark fear that forced the man called Plaza awake. He leaned forward and desperately wiped the hazy condensation that had formed on the inside windshield of the abandoned car they had been using as a refuge for the night.

The alley was silent beyond his metal blanket. There was nothing beyond the ordinary that he could immediately see. The litter-traced alleyway was walled on both sides by high-rise apartment buildings, and except for the three large garbage dumpsters, situated sporadically along the grime filled corridor, it was empty.

A shadow began moving towards him from the furthest dumpster. Its dark cloak gliding along the adjoining building's wall, increasing in size as it loomed closer. He frantically scanned for the shadow's source, but as quickly as it had appeared and grown; the shadow shrunk and disappeared. His panic realised, or more so deduced, that it must have been some form of small mammalian scavenger rummaging through the garbage. With the release of a stalled breath, Plaza leaned back in his seat, his fear slowly abated. For now, they were still safe.

Resting in the passenger seat of the abandoned car, Plaza adjusted the rear view mirror so he could examine the other entrance to the alley. As he stared into the mirrored glass his eyes locked on his own reflection. He felt like he was staring at a stranger. His massive frame felt cramped in the confined space, and he adjusted himself in his seat, desperately seeking comfort. The eyes in the rear-view followed his every move, and the constant reminder of his condition caused a pang of sadness to intrude on his emotions. He repositioned himself again.

The brown skin around his face had pulled taut and his hazel eyes had sunk. The baldness of his head making him look older than his few years of experience. Staring into himself, Plaza wondered how much longer they could go on. The two of them had been on the run for close to three weeks, and their apparent freedom was still untouchable. They were hungry, exhausted, and trapped in a constant state of fear of being caught. Beside each other the two men were a complete contrast. Plaza, he, was dark skinned and built like a mountain, his almost naked body sheathed in a fear induced sweat. While his friend, Squire, was pale and lean. He shivered uncontrollably even though a black woollen cloak was wrapped around him as a cocoon to a butterfly.

Plaza turned his thick neck toward his friend, asleep, and breathing shallowly. He was cradled in the driver's seat like an unborn fetus nestled in a mother's womb.

Wilson stood motionless in the elevator as a horizontal; green stream of light ran over the length of his body. The light painted his face and the walls a strange phosphorescent hue as it ran its examining course. The light disappeared and a computerised, female voice reverberated in the confined area, "Identification positive, Eagledawn," there was a slight pause. "Access to sub-levels cleared."

"Communications," Wilson, identified by the computer as Eagledawn, requested. He watched the small view screen, next to the elevator doors flash: sub-level 1, sub-level 2.

The elevator came to a gliding stop and the computerised voice returned, announcing. "Sub-level two."

The doors hissed open, and Wilson's feet made soft, padding noises as he made his way down the quiet hall. His mouth erected into a full yawn, his body was telling him that he was far more tired than he cared to admit.

The word "COMMUNICATIONS" was boldly etched in white on the glass door. Wilson placed his right hand against the red plate situated on the wall by the sealed door, laying his palm flat so his identity could be verified. In an instance his fingerprints were matched with those registered in the computer's security file, and the door slid open.

Plaza abruptly ducked as far down as was possible in his seat. This time he knew that it wasn't any four-legged scavenger. He had been trying to balance his vision as much as possible; constantly darting his eyes from the rear view mirror to the windshield, neurotically keeping a watch on both of the openings to the alley. Just as he was shifting his gaze forward again he caught it with the corner of his eye, in the rear view, a figure shadowed by the moonlight, skirting across the street towards the alley. He knew instantly who it must be. All doubt was erased from Plaza's mind as his neck tingled in anxiety at the thought of his name.

Kriegen!

An unholy mass of twisted flesh and blistering muscle; the chain mail shirt that draped his upper body clinked and rattled with every step, while tall, cloth boots strained at the seams to contain his gnarled legs.

Plaza had to stave the panic trying to take control of his reflexes, and attempt to push beyond the fear. He breathed in deeply, trapping the air in his lungs. Terror induced idiocy, momentarily, making him believe that if he exhaled, he would be heard.

Kriegen knew he was close to the runaways. He could feel it, taste it. Their cowardice reeked a blatant trail for him to follow.

Plaza leaned in close towards his only friend, their foreheads pressing against each other. "Squire? Squire wake up." Plaza requested, but received no response. He gently shook his friend's leg, repeating the request. "Squire, get up."

Squire slowly opened his eyes, murmuring, "What? What's going on?"

"It's Kriegen," Plaza stated with fear dribbling off of his tongue. "I'm positive."

"No," Squire objected; as his body became tense, instantly awake. "How could he have found us again so soon? Will we ever be able to lose him?"

"Kriegen doesn't give up. That's why they sent him."

Squire already knew that as fact before Plaza reminded him. There would be no end to their nightmare until somebody died, either Kriegen or themselves. Eventually it would be the latter because Kriegen would never stop; he'd hunt them until the end of the earth.

"What do we do, Plaza?" Squire asked pleadingly, looking for guidance.

"Run!"

"I don't know if I can, or for how long, my body is ravaged," defeated tears welled up in the young man's eyes. He had reached the end of his road, and had nothing left.

Feeling completely useless, Plaza stared at his friend in understanding. Squire was a runner, able to obtain blurring speeds. Running used to be his duty, he had been trained and conditioned as a deliverer, a fetcher, and then he was training with the Knights. But now, after days of eating barely anything, he was famished. Fatigued, and his vigorous metabolism was eating him from the inside out. Had they escaped from the caverns to live like this?

"We have to try," Plaza stated inspirationally. "I can't go back there, Squire." He added with a searing hatred.

Squire reached over and gave Plaza's hand a weak squeeze. The pact was sealed with unspoken words. They would never give up, never go back.

Wondering, deducing, sniffing, Kriegen glared into the alley. He could not be sure that they were hiding in the alley, but he felt something emanating from the abandoned car. It was the smell of fear, as distinctive as burning flesh. If they were hidden somewhere in the alley then a sudden maelstrom of chaos created with his power would flush them out. The hunt was almost over. He had them. Soon they would be nothing more than scared rabbits bolting from their hole directly into the hunter's trap.

A torrent of the telekinetic authority rippling inside of him was released, and the alleyway came to life.

The abandoned car began to shake violently, and every inanimate object in the alley appeared to take on a life of its own. The three dumpsters scraped across the concrete as if an invisible hand was pushing them. Kriegen had found them, tormenting and toying with them in a vast display of telekinetic power.

For Kriegen it was a bluff that had paid off.

Their nerves were frayed from the ordeals they had suffered the past few weeks, and the dumpsters drew closer, threatening to pin them in the vehicle like nails to a coffin. Their hearts thudded against their chests; there was no more time. One of the metal containers banged into the front of the car. They had to move before the proverbial hammer had a chance to strike, now or never.

They bolted out of their makeshift sanctuary into the open vulnerability of the alley.

The figure perched at the main console of the communications room was a tangled mess of dull, grey steel and pink flesh, a cyborg, whose frame consisted of more metal than skin. Wires and circuitry replaced nerves and veins. He was rugged and intimidating. An almost frightening, walking arsenal, yet he seemed to fit perfectly, completely at home, with the room's futuristic aura.

Wilson slumped into a high backed, swivel chair next to the cyborg, and inquired. "So, Kalide, to what do I owe the pleasure of being so important that you have to drag me down here at three in the morning?"

"As if you weren't awake!" The machine man turned around, his face concealed by armoured metal.

Except for the left portion of his face, from his forehead down to just below the cheekbone, Kalide's head was masked in the same dull grey as the rest of the majority of his body. At certain times, such as this one, when he was caught unprepared, Wilson found it hard to hide a compassionate sense of pity for his team-mate. Wilson felt a blush of shame wash over him, and silently wished that Kalide would hurry up and say something to break the momentary, but embarrassing silence.

"Well," Kalide began to speak, and even though it was only a few seconds since Wilson sat down, he was relieved that Kalide gave no indication of recognising his pity. "Over the past few days I've been picking up a strange energy reading."

"And so?" Wilson beckoned him to continue, leaning forward inquisitively in his chair.

"And so, as far as I've been able to discern it's powerful, but it's been infrequent and short. Because of that I haven't been able to get a proper lock on its source."

"I'm sorry, Kalide, maybe because it's so late, but I'm not following you." Wilson felt foggy brained. Too many nights spent ignoring sleep. "What is the importance of this? Is it abnormal? Something we should be concerned with?"

"Hell yes it's abnormal, and hell yes we might have a reason to be concerned. You see, Wilson, I've run a battery of tests on my readings, and as far as I can tell it appears to be a form of psi-energy," Kalide explained with a reserved excitement echoing in his deep, rustic voice. "But different from anything else I've ever seen."

"Psi-energy?" Wilson repeated.

"Psychic energy, almost like brainwaves, that is emitted by someone who has the ability of telepathy, telekinesis, clairvoyance, or..."

"Okay, we've encountered people with these kinds of powers before, and Heart is a form of telepath herself, right?"

"Yes...sort of...more empathic if anything, but..."

"Did you run a comparison with our files, or maybe check with the government agencies involved with this kind of stuff? If anything it's probably one of theirs."

"Slow down, that is what I am trying to explain; yes, I've run a battery of tests and comparisons, and no, I didn't come up with any conclusive identification," Kalide leaned back in his chair and shifted his gaze from Wilson back to the computer screen he had been monitoring. "Jesus! There it is again." Kalide jumped, his voice brimming with excitement, as his metal clad fingertips performed a ballet across the computer keys. "This is extraordinary. Whoever this person is, we are talking about one hell of a powerhouse. This is unlike anything ever documented."

"Or a powder keg if this psi-talent, as you put it isn't playing on the side of the angels." Wilson wiped the weariness from his eyes, and watched the shattered soul before him try to perform a miracle. Someone with extreme power was running wild and uninhibited throughout the city's streets, and that mental picture created uneasiness to envelope Wilson. This is what he had gathered his companions, Kalide, Winterkill, Poison, and Heart for. If this unchecked predator was in any way malevolent, he hoped they were prepared to handle the situation that was undoubtedly going to arise.

"C'mon, c'mon, almost have it," Kalide muttered to himself.

"Do you have a lock?" Wilson asked, leaning forward with anticipation. He tried to appear as if he had an understanding of what the computer screen was showing.

Kalide didn't answer. A victim of crude experiments performed long ago, the human mass of armaments was lost in the task at hand, practically oblivious to Wilson's presence.

"There!" Kalide slammed a finger down on a final button, and then turned to face Wilson. "We've got a trace. I'm bringing up the co-ordinates now."

"Excellent," Wilson congratulated.

"So how do you want to handle this?" Kalide questioned.

"What is the status of everyone else?"

"I finally completed the stealth and noise dampening improvements on the Bethlehem, so Poison and Heart are out giving the new systems a test flight."

"And Winterkill?"

"Winterkill is out on patrol."

"Then patch me through to David," Wilson requested.

Kalide fiddled with the controls before him. His sequence of commands to the console relayed a signal to their wandering teammate.

They both sat waiting for a response, impatience overriding their systems.

"He's not answering the hail?" Kalide said.

"Jesus, why does he do this? Hail him again."

"He could be in trouble." Kalide suggested as he sent out another call.

"Winterkill is always finding trouble. No, he's just ignoring us, if he was in trouble he would have requested back up."

"If you say so," Kalide rebutted sarcastically knowing full well their maverick teammate was not one to request help, ever.

A young man's voice crackled through the communication room's intercom. "This is Winterkill, go ahead."

"Winterkill," Wilson spoke to the invisible air around himself. His voice was instantly transported miles away to the tiny receiver behind David's left ear. "Where have you been? Anything to report?"

"There was a fire, and a little girl was trapped in the wreckage, so I had to intervene. Besides that it's been boring as usual, but hey, the nights still young."

"I heard about the fire while I was monitoring the police bands," Kalide interjected.

"Wilson?" Winterkill continued. "There were cameras, news people."

"Were you seen?"

"Yes, but..."

"Can we try to remember the whole concept behind covert operations for crying out loud," Wilson chided.

"It was unavoidable. Besides, if you'd prefer, my almighty majesty, next time I'll let the baby burn to death. I mean give me a break; there was nothing I could do to avoid the media coverage. They were like jackals in sheep's wool, everywhere."

"You're right, you're right. You did the right thing. What's done is done, and your night is about to get a whole lot more exciting. Kalide will give you the co-ordinates of where to rendezvous with me.

"I'm leaving now; Kalide will fill you in on the situation." He got up from his chair. Suddenly he stopped, enshrouded by some enlightened thought. "And Winterkill, if you arrive there first, hang back. Do not engage, or attempt to make any contact, understand?"

"I understand, Wilson. If necessary I'm to wait for you, correct?" Winterkill said with a growing tone of cynicism.

"Yes! Do not engage. This could be a very powerful individual."

"And let the baby burn?" David added.

Wilson's face flushed red with anger as he terminated the audio connection with David. "Why does he do that, twist everything I say? Can't he take anything seriously?"

"Don't let him get to you, Wilson, he's only screwing with your head," Kalide consoled.

"Oh! And like you're one to talk, David's had your wires crossed a few times."

"Thank you," Kalide said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry. Forget I said anything, we have a mission to accomplish," Wilson apologised. "Get in contact with the Bethlehem, and have Heart and Poison come back for you. I don't care if it's overkill; I want everyone there if this person is as powerful as you believe."

"I'm already on it," Kalide stated as he reasserted himself to the communication network.

In the following minute that passed in the room the two men were oblivious of each other. Wilson shed himself of his business suit, leaving the once neatly pressed pants and shirt in a heap on the floor, revealing a skin-tight uniform that was concealed underneath.

"I'm out of here," Wilson stated just as the doorway shunted open.

The deep, rustic words of Kalide trailed behind his exit. "Good luck."

Saliva dripped from his vulgar teeth as coarse lips creased into an unholy smile. The rabbits had bolted from their hole and the very thought of rending their limbs from their frail bodies made Kriegen's blood rush.

Ceasing his telekinetic maelstrom, he charged into the alley with an overpowering craving for physical violence.

Bursting from the car, Plaza spun to face the oncoming behemoth and shouted to his friend. "Run, Squire! I'll hold him off."

Squire took a few running steps and stumbled. A ravenous pain exploded in his gut, dragging him down to the pavement. Clenching his teeth against the pain he pulled himself to his knees. "Plaza, I can't."

"Go, go! I'll catch up," Plaza shouted over his shoulder while remaining vigilant to the encroaching marauder.

Squire raised himself to his feet and swayed nervously as if he might fall again. The pain in his stomach subsided, and he was gone; racing away like a gazelle with his cloak billowing behind him, and his sword incessantly bouncing against his side.

As Kriegen came freight training into him, Plaza braced himself for the impact. A forgotten blink before he was rammed, Plaza's upper torso changed. His skin sizzled with a metamorphosis into protective, red armour.

The two monstrous bodies collided, and even though his newly armoured hide saved his body from being crushed, Plaza was thrown from his footing by the sheer force of Kriegen's attack.

He flew backwards and landed against one of the dumpsters with a deafening thud. Its thick, metal frame dented around Plaza's form, trapping him.

There was a faint whistling in the air.

Plaza pried himself out of his metal prison, and regained his footing. He recognized the faint sound as the calling card to mark his friend's return. Squire must have doubled back.

The whistle of air being cut grew louder.

"Is that all you've got?" Plaza taunted Kriegen, hoping to keep the monster's attention focused on him.

Growling like some wild animal, Kriegen advanced on Plaza.

At the speed his legs were carrying him, Squire's unsheathed sword would have torn Kriegen in half, but the hideous mass of muscle heard his approach at the last minute and side-stepped.

Still, it was defensive manoeuvre performed a moment too late, and Squire's weapon bit into flesh, raking its way across Kriegen's back with a speed akin to a piece of straw let loose from the grasp of a tornado.

The man-mountain fell to the macadam with a howl of pain as his blood dove from the gaping wound in a spray of crimson red.

Panting, Squire came to a stop beside Plaza, returning his sword to its sheath. "That should buy us a little time." He guaranteed Plaza, and they both ran for their lives.

"Run...and I will catch you. Hide...and I will find you. Die...and I will chase your cowardly souls through the pits of hell!" Kriegen mocked their exit with his eyes burning of hatred, and spit flinging from his lips.

CHAPTER THREE

As Mandy Welder stepped out of the apartment building onto the street, she was immediately aware of how empty it was. Silent, except for the constant buzz of the street lamps which fought off the night's shadows with an eerie, yellow glow. In that moment Mandy concluded that if she knew one thing in life, it was how much she hated her - as of ten minutes ago now - ex-boyfriend.

Generally, when she had stayed at her boyfriend's house until this late he would have walked her to her car. A guardian angel, her protector, but the evening had taken on an unexpected, unromantic theme when he had begun to confess that he was seeing someone else. Mandy was dumbfounded, and rightly so, extremely pissed off. The verbal lashings of anger and betrayal bounced back and forth until Mandy concluded the evening, and relationship, by bluntly stating how she hoped he would be happy with his new found playmate, and that she prayed to God she would never have to lay her eyes on his cheating face again.

Now, standing alone on the street, she wished she could take it all back. She was alone out here, increasingly getting more nervous, as she began to frantically search for her car keys. Her fingers fumbled through the collection of junk in her purse.

Her heart increased its pace as she drew closer to her car. She was unable to see inside the windows because the night had given birth to a solid blackness that filled the interior of her vehicle. She tried to calm herself, but she knew it was senseless, and the jerk upstairs knew it too. The panic would rise and overwhelm her. Mandy, although she hated to admit it, was deathly afraid of the dark.

It had been that way all her life. Even though she was almost nineteen, she still slept with a nightlight in her room. When Mandy and her (ex) boyfriend made love, it was with the lights on. At home, whenever she entered another room of the house, she immediately flipped the light switch. Sometimes she was so paranoid that she would reach around the wall, hitting the switch so the room would already be illuminated by the time she entered it.

There was no valid reason to substantiate her fear; she just had an all too vivid imagination of the million different nightmares that originated from the darkness. If asked, Mandy didn't consider her fear of the dark a phobia; she just liked to live in a bright world. Everyone knew that was a lie, but the important thing was that Mandy believed it.

"Son of a Bitch!" She jointly cursed her (ex) boyfriend, and especially her purse, for not releasing the keys to her car.

Not only was he a two-timing bastard, Mandy thought to herself, but he was also a low-life creep for making her walk out here alone. To walk out into the shadowed street and get into her car where some madman was probably lying in wait, tucked down in the backseat, so he could murder her. Or a pack of ravenous, sex-starved maniacs would come charging out of a dimly lit hiding hole and feast on her body in a never-ending ritual of torturous rape.

"Get a grip," she chuckled to herself trying to lighten her mood, as her purse finally relented to the game of Hide and Seek, releasing her keys.

"It's not that bad," Mandy began to barter with her fear. "Okay, granted, it's past three in the morning and there is absolutely nobody around to see me if I get murdered, or worse, raped! But the streetlamps are shining away, and once I stick this little key thing here..." She jingled the ring of brass, lock openers in her hand. "...Into the door, all I have to do is pull the handle. The car door opens, and voila, the cabin light comes on, exposing the murderer lying in wait. Easy, simple, and in a worst case scenario I can scream my god damned head off!"

Mandy inhaled a deep breath and placed the appropriate key into the door lock, turned it, and felt the familiar click as the lock disengaged.

"So far, so good," she commended herself while withdrawing the key.

Then they came.

Ascertaining his identity to allow him access to his penthouse office, the elevator ran its green, phosphorescent stream of light up and down Wilson Donner's body.

Standing stalk still, a skin-tight costume of white and grey adorned his sculpted body, giving him an aura of nobleness as though he was a statue of some forgotten god from centuries ago.

The material caressed his skin. Melding with him as though it was not some form of cloth at all, but an outer layer of specially designed flesh. His arm, from wrist to shoulder, was draped in white with a military ribbon of grey running up along its length. The grey material expanded to his chest and shoulders where it enveloped his neck and formed a tight cloak around his face. Only his mouth, chin, and all too salted, dark hair was left exposed.

White covered him from his mid-section down to the mid-calf where other royal banners of grey streamed down the front of his legs, and expanded to cover the rest of his calves and feet.

Wrapped in these colours of symbolism and camouflage he felt different. A sense of power surged throughout his muscles, stripping away the business tycoon of Stardawn Enterprises.

As instantly as it had filled the elevator in a strange hue, the tight beam of light disappeared as the security verification announced. "Identification positive, Eagledawn, access to upper suites cleared."

The wall in the penthouse office opened and the man who stepped across the threshold had shed the guise of Wilson Donner.

The keys dropped to the concrete with a clatter. Her heart froze and her lungs expelled a glass-shattering scream as a machination of her nightmares came barrelling towards her from an alleyway half a block up the street.

Hovering above the city as if he was some forgotten star that had long ago burnt out; Winterkill felt the tug of boredom irritating his patience. He knew he was supposed to wait for Wilson, but the adrenaline that had flooded his system during the escapade in the burning building had quickly been purged from his body. Now he felt lost, he needed that rush, the excitement, and the danger. It was all he had to keep himself sane in his never-ending life.

The woman's cry of terror rippled up into the sky from a street below. David jerked to attention and immediately began ascertaining the voice's origin. Every nerve in his body began screaming action while his mind kept them at bay. He had to wait for Wilson. He was positive that these were the correct co-ordinates, and even more assured, regardless of his tensed muscles denial, that Wilson would arrive any second. Any second now, right?

Maybe ten seconds passed; a life time to the woman that had cried out. There was still no sign of Wilson.

He could feel his left hand involuntarily curl into a fist, and then flex out again with the fingers stretching to the point that they felt like they were trying to snap the skin from his fingertips. They curled again into another tight fist. Outstretched. Curled. Flailed outwards. Fist.

The woman's plea for help had faded.

David argued with himself trying to ignore his impulses. Wait for Wilson? He had been given direct orders to wait, and not to engage the situation. David was sure he would be here any second. He just needed to have a little bit more patience. He only had to wait a little bit longer and? And the baby will have burned.

"Wait for Wilson, my ass! The man's slower than a sack of shit!" David told off his subordinate thoughts, releasing full control to his conscience and instincts.

Dropping from the night sky the street rushed up to greet him.

Mandy Welder's vocal chords wore out and stopped producing the shrieking noise before she was ready. Now, instead, she was held captive in the icy grip of cold fear. Immobile and voiceless. The attacker rushed towards her with blurring speed, and Mandy sealed her eyelids tight, wishing, praying, and pleading the nightmare away.

Standing on the precipice of the balcony to his office, Wilson listened to the sirens, from some street below, echo the aftermath of another tragedy. Suddenly, without hesitation, he stepped off of the stone walled railing and plunged into the awaiting darkness.

Stifling a cry of agony, Eagledawn cascaded down the side of the building as a shrill pain reverberated throughout his body. Scorching every nerve raw, the skin covering his shoulder blades cracked and peeled while cartilage and bones twisted and reshaped.

Buoyed by the thermal currents of the air, Eagledawn was carried aloft by the pair of large wings that had taken shape, and now protruded from his back; in another flickering moment his nails hardened and elongated, forming into claws.

Feeling a renewed sense of strength after escaping Kriegen, Squire tore out of the alleyway with his hallmark speed. Plaza did his best to keep pace. It wasn't over yet. They had only caused a mild inconvenience for the hunter, Kriegen, and needed to put as much distance between themselves and that monster as quick as possible.

They both saw it at once and recognized it for what it could possibly provide, escape.

Neither of them had the slightest inkling of how to govern the metal machine, but in the past few weeks they had seen hundreds of people sitting in these "cars" being magically pulled around. Now in their moment of crisis was a woman who could show them how.

Doubling back to pace himself with Plaza, Squire asked. "What do you think?"

"Go to her," Plaza said in acknowledgement to the idea. "She could be our only chance. I'll catch up."

Acting as the representative to their partnership, Squire sped forward towards the young lady, preparing in his mind the most convincing way to plea for her help.

She saw him and began to scream.

It was not the exact response Squire was hoping for. He opened his mouth to shout a safe assurance to her, but the hunger began to torment him again. The muscles in his legs cramped and seized. The pain exploded in his gut. His heart felt like it was about to burst free from the captivity of his chest. Before he could comprehend what was happening, Squire was falling.

Even though his legs had stopped moving, his body carried the forward momentum, head over feet. Tumbling to the pavement he rolled and scraped and bounced until his body was brought to a conscious rending halt amidst the car's hood. The metal frame moaned under the strain and the windshield splintered from the impact with his head. If the young lady was still screaming, Squire could no longer hear her.

The sound of splintering glass and flesh scraping hard against metal caused Mandy to snap out of her fear induced temporal state. Before her, crumpled on the hood of her car, was a young man, unconscious and bleeding. Confusion webbed her thoughts as she tried to understand the scene displayed before her. He was young, possibly around her age, but dressed up in some weird medieval outfit, and there was even a sword dangling off of his waist. His pale features made her think that he was sick, or dying, but what did she know? As her mind wrestled with the details of this uncanny turn of events her heart subsided and returned to a more regular pace. She had to decide what to do next, this guy wasn't any threat to her, and he needed her help.

The silence was broken by the arrival of the unconscious man's companion. He rushed up to them, completely ignoring Mandy.

"Squire, dear God! Squire, are you all right?" The heavy brute rolled the body over and Mandy bore mute witness as he placed fingers to the other's neck, feeling for a pulse.

"What's...What's going on?" Mandy forced the words. Tears began to form in her eyes, she felt overwhelmed, helpless. "Is he dead?"

"Run!" He ordered.

"What did you say?" Mandy asked, puzzled.

Kriegen was coming. Plaza could feel it on the nape of his neck. He hoisted Squire's unconscious body into his arms. They had to leave the area and keep on the move. Didn't she understand? If she did not run her life would be over. Kriegen would rip through her like a bear claw on bark. She wasn't listening. "Get out of here. Run for your life."

"I don't understand. What are you talking about?" She rambled. "Is your friend dead? I didn't do it. You guys attacked me. Oh, I'm sorry; I don't understand what's going on."

"Shut up! Listen to me," he yelled at her, silencing the babble. "You have to get out of here. Now! Can you understand me? He is coming, coming for us," he motioned to himself and the body cradled in his arms. "If you're here, in his way, he'll kill you. Please, just go; run as far away from here as you can."

His eyes locked with hers for a brief, pleading, moment before he left. Clinging to the shadows he ran from her. He ran, hating to leave her, but there wasn't time to argue. He couldn't save her, nobody could.

Mandy was extremely confused as she watched the man's departure. They had not attacked her. They did not kidnap her, and they most certainly did not, even attempt to, rape her. One second two men appear out of nowhere, and the next minute they were gone. Once again she was alone on the street, and alive. Everything was going to be okay.

"As I said earlier, get a grip," she reminded herself. For the first time in her life she felt relatively secure in the dark. She had survived the encounter with her nightmares, and passed the test. The only damage she had suffered was the small dent in her hood and her windshield was sporting a lovely new crack. Okay, a big crack.

Mandy bent down to retrieve the keys that had fallen into the gutter.

Then everything went to hell, and her nightmares did become a reality.

The wings were spread to their full fourteen-foot span, and the feathers ruffled in a steady wave as the light wind caressed them. Eagledawn closed his eyes, giving himself to the erotic touch of the breeze. This is what he loved; this is where he found his solace, alone and amidst the heavens, flying free.

His wings gently flapped back and forth in a steady rhythm that held him stationary. This was the rendezvous point? He scanned the area with keen eyes assuring him. "This is the determined location!"

But where in the hell was David?

The left arm of Mandy Welder's true to life nightmare held her against its rancid smelling body, as its right hand grabbed a fistful of her hair. Her nightmare yanked her hair, forcing the head to tilt backwards, leaving her neck exposed.

"Fresh meat," her nightmare rasped as it sent globs of spit splashing against her face. "Kriegen loves the tender souls."

All that Mandy could think was that this was not supposed to be happening. The nightmares were not real. She had actually come to start believing that a few seconds ago. Even though this night was going to be recorded in her history books as the weirdest night she had ever experienced, she was beginning to believe that her fear of the dark was nothing but an out-dated, immature phobia. That had been a breath ago when she was safe, and was in the process of congratulating herself for passing the test with the other two. Then the nightmare slithered out of the shadows to reassure her phobia. If she wasn't dead in the next two minutes, Mandy knew that there would never be a light turned off in her life again.

The pungent odour of her nightmare's breath raped her nostrils as its jaws separated, preparing to tear her flesh. Her eyes released their collection of tears and sent mascara-stained rivers of salt water flowing down her cheeks, as her mouth repeatedly quivered and sobbed the words. "Oh shit-oh shit-oh shit!"

Winterkill moved with water's fluidity. Sailing down towards the awaiting macadam as he, almost subconsciously, assessed the situation. There was one girl, the screamer, and one huge son of a bitch about to rip her throat out. They were half a block away, not too far. His feet touched the ground and Winterkill's body moved into immediate action.

Darting down the middle of the street his right arm shot up and out in a traffic cops manner, and preparing to strike, blue energy crackled around his outstretched hand. Winterkill drew closer, taking aim.

He disbursed the controlled bolt of lightning; he couldn't attack without hurting the woman also.

"Hey! You genetic abnormality-over here!" Winterkill shouted in an attempt to garner the twisted form's attention.

The monster dropped its victim and turned. The horrid sight caused David to jump back in shocked surprise. "Jesus Christ, you're an ugly mother."

Muscles tensed in answer to the challenge, Kriegen's skin threatened to split from the strain. From the increased blood flow thick veins magically came into view around his neck and forearms. Kriegen growled in complete contempt.

"I knew it. I knew it! I should have waited for Wilson," David illiterately kicked himself.

It was hard to believe. One minute she was knocking on death's door, and in the next instant she was knocking her head against the concrete. Mandy's eyes bolted open and her vision, although blurred, was focused on her nightmare's back. It was completely ignoring her. This was possibly her only chance for escape.

She was hurt and exhausted, but the fear lifted her to her feet and forced her to move. Mandy stumbled across the street, making her way back to her (ex) boyfriend's apartment building. The entrance was only a few feet away and every step brought Mandy a little closer to sanctuary. She was going to make it. Her shoulder urged her to look back over it, but she resisted the temptation. She knew that if she did look, her nightmare would be right there, its foul breath and coarse skin reaching for her, eating her alive.

In the confines of the small lobby, Mandy leaned on the appropriate button to buzz her boyfriend's apartment.

She no longer cared about how he had cheated on her, and she had already forgotten all the terrible things he had said to her earlier in the evening. Mandy just wanted to be safe in his arms, with the lights on, forever.

"Hello," a sleepy voice filled the tiny waiting area. The bastard had already been sleeping?

"Let me in. Let me in. Let me in," was all that Mandy could sputter.

"It's over Mandy, you called it yourself," he refused her access believing the sound of her tears were from remorse.

"OPEN THE FUCKING DOORS AND LET ME IN, YOU SELFISH PRICK!"

The second set of doors leading into the building buzzed and clicked, the electronic locks had disengaged. Mandy grabbed the door and yanked it open.

Once it had closed behind her she sank down against the adjacent wall; a wave of relief sweeping through her.

The alley he had entered turned out to be a dead end. Plaza knew he was leaving himself cornered if he stayed there, but Squire was still unconscious and Plaza himself needed to rest.

He moved as deep into the shadows as possible and sat with Squire cradled in his arms. It was obvious that their attempted escape was almost over, but they had not succeeded. He wondered if they'd ever really had a chance to begin with. Plaza's eyelids felt like cement drapes as they continued to pull closed. He blinked hard, but sleep relentlessly taunted him from behind his eyes. It was ridiculous, if he stayed there any longer he would pass out from exhaustion, he could not fall asleep because he had to keep on guard, but his body begged him to relax for just a single moment. He tried to get up, but his legs didn't respond. He forced his eyes open, but they fell down again. Amidst the garbage his head flopped forward and he was gone. Exhaustion had seduced him to sleep.

An erratic beam of white and blue lightening spun from Winterkill's hand and wrapped its electrifying touch around the unsightly being named Kriegen. Winterkill saw the girl run to safety and lashed out ruthlessly. The plan was to drop his adversary as quickly as possible. Short and sweet. His attack left the man-monster writhing in a painful frenzy.

Shrugging off the effects of the lightning's torturous aftermath, snarling like some rabid beast, Kriegen hunched forward.

All that Winterkill felt was a harrowingly, bitter degree of agony as Kriegen's telekinetic bolt erupted in his chest. The invisible attack threw him back ten feet where he crash-landed on the tarmac. Red streams of blood oozed from the gaping wound, and Winterkill lay there unmoving, dead.
CHAPTER FOUR

A form, silhouetted by the moon, stood at the alley's opening. Startled, Plaza jerked awake. Catching the breath before it could escape he remembered where he was. How long had he slept? Seconds? Minutes? The moon was still on its cascading journey, so he had only passed out for a minimal amount of time. Just as Plaza made the decision to begin moving again he buried himself deeper into darkness.

The shivering that possessed his body told the truth, who else could it be?

Kriegen.

Wilson Donner's feathered appendages batted the cool air as he struggled with his indecision and increasing frustration. "This is ridiculous," he muttered angrily to himself as he activated the communication up-link. "Eagledawn to Bethlehem?"

"This is the Bethlehem," a female's voice answered.

"Poison?"

"Yes, copy."

"I believe Winterkill has already moved in on our target. His situation is unclear. I need you guys here, now."

"Just before we received your hail, Kalide reported that Winterkill's bio-signature had flat lined, as far as we can detail the situation has gone critical."

"Jesus!" Eagledawn exclaimed more to himself.

"Hold tight, we've got your marker and are bound and incoming."

"When?"

"E.T.A. is below five minutes. We're on a descending course for Stardawn now to retrieve Kalide."

"The sooner the better; it looks like I'm on my own until you arrive."

"Not for long, we'll be right behind you."

Eagledawn cancelled the link and dove from the sky as a bird of prey about to snatch its next meal.

"I can smell you," Plaza heard Kriegen's words taunt him. "The young Squire reeks of beautiful death."

Plaza shuffled deeper into the shadows clinging to his back in a vain, final attempt to hide.

"Why don't you just come to me instead of playing these stupid games? Come Plaza," Kriegen spit the name. "Come and lie before me like the lamb you are."

It was over. There was no possible way for them to miraculously escape this time. Plaza laid Squire down amongst the dirt and littered filth. Holding himself to their promise to never give up he silently raised himself to his feet, preparing for a final stand. The running stopped here.

"No," Plaza whispered.

"The cornered animal speaks! You will come back with me, boy, and you will beg your Liegelord to forgive your betrayal."

"Never!" Plaza yelled in defiance.

"You bore me, Plaza, with your eternal impertinence," Kriegen snapped as he edged forward, deeper into the alley.

Hidden on a rooftop above, Eagledawn's keen eyes penetrated the darkness below. Hearing the tense verbal exchange was all he needed to discern who the victim was, and who was the victimiser.

He craned his neck skyward hoping for some sign of the Bethlehem's arrival. There was none. If he waited any longer it would be too late. Until the others arrived he would have to do his best to contain the situation. Leaping from his hiding hole, Eagledawn prayed that his best would be enough.

The cavernous hole in Winterkill's chest stopped bleeding, and his skin instantaneously began to re-stitch itself, closing the wound as quickly as it had originally been created. Inside his chest cavity, Winterkill's heart began a slow, rhythmic beating, and life-sustaining blood flowed throughout his system. Cartilage reformed and the three broken ribs he had sustained during the fall snapped back together.

Two minutes after his supposed death, David Michaels, call-sign Winterkill, sat up in the middle of the deserted street and withdrew a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his trench coat pocket.

Finding the matches was going to be a whole other task.

Landing between the two enemies in the alley, Eagledawn's back was directed at Kriegen.

"Behind you!" The one he had heard referred to as Plaza warned. Instinctively, Eagledawn fell into a crouch with his wings protectively wrapping around his body, barely evading the blow. He felt the breeze tease his hair as an inhuman fist cut the air where his head had been positioned a moment ago.

Eagledawn swivelled and brought himself upright. A grotesque face to accompany an even darker soul glared down at him. Swiftly, Eagledawn brought up his right leg to deliver a kicking blow, but Kriegen blocked the attack, and drove his fist into Eagledawn's face. The monster was too fast and before Wilson could shake the effects of the first strike, Kriegen's other fist slammed into the left side of his head, forcing his neck to snap to the right as a wave of blood spurted from Wilson's mouth.

Crimson red trickled down from Eagledawn's forehead threatening to blind him as he made a final move to subdue the creature before him. His left arm shot out, fingers poised to crush the windpipe of his enemy, but massive fingers enveloped his arm before he could connect.

Kriegen twisted his grip and bright flashes of distress paraded behind Eagledawn's eyes, as the bones in his arm snapped or splintered. In one swift move the predator grabbed Eagledawn by his wings and hoisted him off of his feet.

"Who...Who are you?" Eagledawn dazedly mumbled.

"I'm Kriegen, I kill," the man hissed as he pulled Eagledawn closer to its malformed face.

"That doesn't sound too promising for me," Eagledawn weakly joked in an attempt to buy a few seconds until he could regain his senses.

Before another word was uttered a defeatist scream leapt from Eagledawn's throat as his nerves registered the fact that his wings had just been broken in his enemy's grip.

An involuntary flight was taken as he was tossed across the alley like a rag doll. A sickening, wet snap glittered in the air as Eagledawn's back connected with a brick wall. Limply, his broken frame fluttered to the ground.

Slumped on the grime infested alley floor, metallic-tasting blood choked Eagledawn's throat as he teetered on the abyss of consciousness. He watched helplessly as Kriegen turned back towards his original victim.

"Your saviour has fallen," Kriegen mocked as he stepped closer to Plaza. "Now we can end this silly charade you insist on perpetuating."

In a nervous tension, Plaza's body began to flash and sparkle as his mutated power erupted over different parts of his body. His power could only be utilized on a portion of his body at any one moment, and in a panic, unsure where his defence mechanism would be needed he was like a human strobe light illuminating here and there in an erratic sequence. There was a crackle of energy and his head turned into its shiny, red form, then it was normal again; his right leg metamorphed into the strength imbuing armour. Gone. This time, his naked chest was covered in steel red. With another flash, Plaza was virtually naked again, all except for the armour on his right hand and right calf. He stepped in front of Squire's inert body in a protective stance and willed his sporadic mutations under control.

"I'm not impressed by your display of lack of control. I thought we had taught you better?" Kriegen said with a devilish chuckle.

"Leave us alone, Kriegen, walk away. I will not let you hurt Squire, and we are not going back. Do you hear me, we're never going back?" Plaza stated while trying to sound as resolute as possible.

"Give it up, boy! You are NOTHING! How dare you order me, you foolish whelp, what sheer audacity. Believe what you will, but you will return to your Liegelord. Alive, or if I have my way, dead!"

"You lie, Kriegen. You can't kill us; the Lord would never allow it."

"Allowances have been given to me, Lamb. Do you think the Liegelord really holds you in that high of a regard?" Kriegen motioned and his telekinesis lifted Squire's limp body into the air. "Do you not yet understand, Plaza? After these past weeks you still don't get it?"

Plaza watched helplessly as Squire's body moved like a kite lost in the wind at Kriegen's whim.

"You are but play things to me. I am the cat, and you are the wounded bird," Kriegen continued. "But now I'm tired of games. I hunger, my claws are bared, and it's time to feast." Kriegen released his puppeteer hold on Squire and the unconscious body fell to the ground with a bone-numbing thud.

"No! Damn you!" Plaza yelled as he charged his nemesis.

"Brave, bold, and completely inexperienced," Kriegen smirked as he engineered an invisible tripwire with his power that ripped Plaza's feet from under him, sending him driving face first into the concrete ground.

"Laugh all you want, you unholy piece of shit," Plaza cursed while raising himself to his feet. "But if you killed Squire..."

"If I killed him, you fool, he's dead."

Plaza lashed out and his right arm turned into red armour just as it connected with Kriegen's mid-section. Surprised by the force Kriegen's body folded over into the fist, next the armour switched to Plaza's left leg as he drove his leg up into Kriegen's down-turned head. The mass of twisted flesh was forced to the ground.

"Get up! Get up!" Plaza rampantly yelled as a never before felt hatred pumped through his veins.

Looking up at the man towering over him, Kriegen laughed as he used the back of his hand to wipe away the blood flowing from his lower lip. "So the lamb has grown teeth. It's too bad he doesn't know how to bite."

"You find this funny? You murdering son of a..." A whoosh of air leapt from Plaza's mouth as all of the oxygen was evicted from his lungs. Blinded by his anger and hatred he was unable to defend himself from the sudden attack of Kriegen's left foot, slamming into his stomach. Winded, before he was fully conscious of the pain, Plaza stumbled backwards, gasping for air to fill his suffocating lungs.

With being pulled into the dark void between life and death, his memory flashed.

"I know you," the words gurgled from Eagledawn's lips with the popping of blood bubbles.

Deep in the recesses of his mind the vivid images of his wife flitted before him like a slide show running on high speed. The pain in his heart was far more excruciating than anything his body was currently experiencing.

"Elizabeth, Elizabeth," he called out in his mind. "Dear God, make it stop." The dream state paraded in his thoughts beckoning him to collapse and release himself to the sanctuary of unconsciousness.

"Please make it stop," Eagledawn pleaded with himself, uncertain whether he was fighting against his damaged body, or his crippling emotions.

Unconsciousness pulled at him. "Hold on, don't give in, ignore the pain."

The visions taunted.

Cradled on the linoleum of the kitchen floor the pool of blood encircled her body. Reddening her pink, soft skin and matting her flowing blond hair.

With open eyes, Eagledawn dazedly saw the images of the two forms in the alley, and he tried to raise himself. After, what felt like hours of torturous movement, he was on his hands and knees. Almost there, but the stabbing pain in his side hooked him, reeling Eagledawn back into the abyss.

"I know you," were his last words, whispered behind gritted teeth.

The blood, her life, continued to flow from the wounds with no sign of abating. She was a running tap, pouring, gushing, that could not be turned off. Frozen, he felt and watched as the warm, crimson wetness drained out of her, painting the floor, caressing his bare feet.

Cries of anguish and bellows of defiance pried his eyes open to the present. But no matter how much he willed his body to get up, it refused to respond.

The memories continued their taunting and teasing.

It was now a better moment, before the murder, the two of them entwined in each other's arms in the solitude of their bed.

BANG!

Their lovemaking stopped.

CRASH!

A shadow skirted in the hallway, its form arrested by the light in the hall beyond the closed door.

"No! Don't say it, don't say it," Eagledawn begged his memory.

"Someone's in the house," her sweet, loving breath whispered in his ear.

And the nightmare memory began again.
CHAPTER FIVE

The Bethlehem stealth craft tore through the night sky like an angel fallen from the grace of God.

Poison sat at the controls with a grim face. Her auburn hair hung loosely around her shoulders and her Kevlar enhanced; black leather outfit augmented her athletic physique. She was known for being cold, an ice queen, but the disparity lining her pale features betrayed the tough exterior. Winterkill had flat lined. Dead again, and like every other time before he would rise from his temporary state and brush himself off like nothing ever happened. But he died for Christ's sake! And this time he may not start breathing; his heart may not start beating. There were too many unknowns when it came down to David's immortal soul. Her lower lip found its way between her teeth. They had just recently closed the gap between themselves. Was his luck one day going to run out? Somewhere, hidden inside her emotionless heart, something cracked, and the ice queen found herself feeling. Silently she prayed to herself, hoping that his luck had not run out this time, that he wasn't gone forever.

"There he is," Heart declared, motioning to the roof of Stardawn Enterprises.

"I see him," Poison responded while hiding the worry that was marauding her thoughts.

She veered the aircraft to the right and manipulated the controls so the Bethlehem was brought to a hovering halt a few feet above the skyscrapers roof. "Disengage access lock."

"Disengaged," Heart verified.

Wasted moments passed before the half man, half machine, walking arsenal, Kalide entered the cockpit. Poison's patience gnawed at her insides.

"Punch it, ladies," Kalide ordered while seating himself.

"Did you remember the med-kit?" Poison questioned as she exited the Bethlehem from its hover mode and increased the forward throttle.

"Yes, and from what I could tell from Eagledawn's bio-readings, before I left, we had better hurry," his metal encased voice grated.

"And David?"

"No change," Kalide answered.

She knew from the tone of his response that she had slipped, and her concern had crept out with those two words.

"Don't count him out yet," Heart tried to reassure Poison.

"I wasn't counting anyone out. I was only asking to evaluate the situation for when we arrive. Now help me fly this damn jet, we may already be too late," the Ice Queen put an abrupt end to the conversation.

Silence filled the cockpit of the Bethlehem, and hope wrapped its infectious tendrils around a poisoned heart.

Finding itself caught in the throw of telekinetic mastery a steel garbage can arrowed towards Plaza's head with the speed of a bullet.

Now that air was safely trapped in his lungs again, Plaza was able to focus clearly enough to direct his armour above his neck, and the makeshift missile crash-clanged into him with ill effect.

"Resourceful and quick, eh Lamb," Kriegen seemed pleased. "Maybe you have learned something, Plaza, but enough! Let the war explode and the slaughter begin. I'm taking you down!"

"Try it. I beg you," Plaza challenged. His anger superseded his fear.

"So the shepherd has to drag the stray back to the flock? Then squeal loudly, defiant one."

"No, I don't think so. This man, Plaza, and his friend go free," braced up against a wall, Eagledawn stated, snapping the shattered left wing free of his back. Wilson's face contorted in agony, and he winced at the sudden flash of electric needles dancing along his spine, but he did not cry out. No air escaped his lips to announce the torture he was enduring. Regardless of how much he hurt he refused to give Kriegen the satisfaction, or pleasure of knowing how broken he felt.

Kriegen laughed at the man being propped up by the building's exterior. "I see now that finally the odds are even. A man too weak to stand, and a boy too frightened to believe the inevitable, against me, death personified," the coarse, marrow ripping laugh echoed.

A clap of thunder erupted in the still air, and the flash of an ignited match sparked in the gloomy corridor for a brief instant. The two men and the human abomination froze. To Eagledawn's relief it was David, alive and completely healed.

"Devil, I killed you?" Kriegen choked in disbelief.

"Got better!" Winterkill joked as a plume of lung filtered cigarette smoke wisped from his nostrils.

"You were dead!" Kriegen howled as his body tensed in preparation to attack.

"Oh, shut-up. I'm sick and tired of listening to your animalistic grunts. Do you know that I could hear you from two blocks away?"

Wilson couldn't help, but crack a thin smile at David; pompous and arrogant as always, regardless of the threat.

"You were dead. I saw your blood stain the ground. The hole in your chest?" Kriegen was still uncomprehending.

"Well, obviously, God didn't want me. Now give it up, you're outnumbered."

"I killed you once, I'll do it again. I'll rip your heart out, I'll pop your skull, I'll..."

"Promises, promises," Winterkill teased as he silently motioned to Eagledawn.

Kriegen charged.

Eagledawn moved in with Plaza following suit. The partially armoured runaway dove at Kriegen from behind. The, now, one-winged multimillionaire lunged at their mutual adversary with claws bared. His body swore its protest.

Razor sharp talons tore through Kriegen's iron ringed shirt and bore deeply into his flesh. Tracing four prodigious red seems in his left side. The behemoth squealed his confoundedness at the attack as his fist reflexively shot down into the nape of Eagledawn's neck, sending white flashes of oblivion to grope his already weathered enemy.

Gnarled trunk like legs pounded the pavement, generating impact cracks in the alley floor, carrying Kriegen closer with every step toward the un-dead Winterkill. A fury filled red beamed in his eyes, and white foam saliva echoed up from his lips and across the cheek. He no longer cared for the misfit runaways, and in his mind's eye they no longer existed. There was a greater prize to return to his Liegelord. The one who Kriegen had killed, absolutely, definitely, stone cold dead. But this demon of a man had risen from the ashes to haunt Kriegen, to tauntingly force him to question his own power. What secrets his Liege would be able to gleam from this mystery? What power lay hidden within this man's heart for them to uncover, to possess?

It was a gift, a devil's trickery that Kriegen knew his Liegelord would want, and the rewards for delivering such a prize would be insurmountable. Plaza and Squire were but drops from a well that would dry up and fade away in their fear and weakness. They meant nothing, but this ever-beating heart, nestled in the chest of such a revulsion, would be Kriegen's failure if he did not deliver it to his Lord. The dice had rolled a new fate for the runaways, and they may come to believe it was pure luck, but their lives dangled from a thin web. A web that Kriegen had weaved. Lambs could be slaughtered any time.

Plaza landed squarely on his hunter's back, and the red shroud comforting his arms and legs wrapped around the unstoppable abomination like a vice, squeezing.

Without pause, or acknowledgement of the man thieving a piggyback, Kriegen increased his speed, the intensity of the battle, and the fires of hatred and desire fusing his muscles with more power.

Telekinetically peeled from his carrier as a lone leaf in a brisk autumn wind is snatched from a quivering branch, Plaza was sent reeling into the confines of a garbage infested dumpster. Now there were only two players left on the urban battlefield.

Hoping to block the only means of escape, Winterkill held his ground at the alley's entranceway. Snarling like some wild, untamed beast, Kriegen continued his advance. The two opposing forces tumbled into the street in a collage of bone crunching fists, and bloodletting kicks.

Kriegen pummelled his prize into submission with his elbows, head, fists, feet, and knees, bit with savage teeth, clawed with feral nails. He tore and beat at David's flesh, attempting, hoping, for a quick kill. He wanted David to fall into a pulseless slump, so he could return to the king, boon in hand, advancement of power following.

Before the bastard knocked him into the road and began terrorizing his body, Winterkill knew he could not let Kriegen escape. Before the tumble and ensemble of blows he had seen the young man, Squire, curled up among the garbage, barely alive. It made his blood curdle in his veins. David had also seen Eagledawn, and read the agony expressed in that swollen eyed, broken nose face. Even though he did his damned best to act as if he did not care for anyone, he did, life was easier if he kept his emotions at bay. But all of this displayed before him, witnessed in the blink of an eye, swathed his tongue with the taste for revenge. He vowed to himself that Kriegen would not escape. He would make the bastard behemoth pay. Pay for Eagledawn's injuries. Pay for the young Squire's life. Pay for his mother's lost years of sorrow. And most definitely pay for the smile that had long ago vanished from his sister's face.

The weight crushing him into the tarmac suddenly lifted and Kriegen was gone. Escaping.

"NO! No God damn way," Winterkill cursed at Kriegen's retreat. He pulled himself up and prepared for pursuit. "Eagledawn?"

"Fine. We're fine, go."

The winds swept his feet off of the macadam and raised David into the air. Winds howled with Winterkill's screams. "I'm coming for you, I'm coming."

He was pursuing, and that was exactly what Kriegen had expected him to do. Kriegen needed to put an end to this charade and return to his Liegelord, but after he had continued to beat, beat, beat his gift into submission, the immortal did not fall. Even if this resilient soul died, like he was supposed to, Kriegen would still have to contend with Plaza and the wingless saviour before he could steal away with the body. Disposing of the other two would do nothing but waste precious time, besides they were too weak to give chase, it was better to play the coward and run. Kriegen had patience. He would wait in ambush, here, for his prize.

Winterkill turned into the next avenue and dropped to the ground. "Where are you? C'mon," he muttered loudly in frustration. He had not been that far behind, how he could lose track of something so big? "C'mon, you coward. Face me. Attack me like you did that boy back there. Try and rip my throat out like you did to that innocent woman. I'm right here, you oversized piece of shit, come and get me."

In response to David's ranting challenges a pair of gnarled limbs shot out of the darkness, and two hands wrapped around David's neck. A snap sprinkled the air as a clash of thunder reverberated in the clouds.

Kreigen stepped out from his shadowy alcove into the beam of a shining streetlamp and hefted the lifeless body into his arms. "I'm coming home, my Liege."

Turbine engines whined, and the dust on the ground came up in a wave as the Bethlehem dropped onto the street from the sky above. With a hiss the bay doors of the ship slid open and Heart came running out. "Eagledawn, are you okay?"

She was a ghostly image with her white cloak trailing behind her, as if it was a separate entity, billowing in the slight breeze her footfalls created. The hood was down to reveal her delicate, porcelain features, and with a subconscious grace she swept a stream of her jet-black hair away from her eyes.

"I'm fine," Eagledawn wheezed behind the sharp jab of broken ribs.

"My God! Look at you, you are not fine," Heart kneeled down beside him, shouting over her shoulder. "Kalide hurry, we need the med-kit."

"Don't worry about me, tend to those other two first," Eagledawn ordered while nodding towards Plaza who had escaped the dumpster and was now cradling Squire in his arms.

The bulking metal frame of Kalide departed the aircraft and gently nudged Plaza away from the unconscious Squire. "This man is in bad shape. We'll lose him if we don't hurry and get back to the infirmary at Stardawn. Where's Winterkill?"

"He took off after our malefactor," Eagledawn responded.

"How long ago?" Poison asked, leaning out of the doorway of the Bethlehem.

"About..." Eagledawn paused. His lungs made a frantic grasp for air. "Few minutes...just before you...arrived." Shockwaves of pain rippled throughout his chest and he found himself having to force out the words.

"Don't leave yet, I'm going after him," Poison said.

"Let me go, Poison, I can track him better, faster," Kalide requested.

"It's fine, I'll handle it, just don't leave without me."

"Poison, please!" Kalide put more emphasis on the second word to hopefully reach past her stubbornness. "Let me go. I need you to stabilize this man."

"Squire," Plaza almost whispered.

"What?" Kalide asked, looking up at the towering form standing above him.

"His name is Squire."

"Fine. Poison I need you to stabilize, Squire, so we can transport him back to Stardawn."

"Then go already, and get out of my way."

Plaza watched his friend's life slowly ebb away. For the first time in this long night he felt the evening's chill tickle his bones, and as Plaza shivered in his near nakedness goose pimples broke out on his arms and legs. Plaza stood back and behind Poison, watching sullenly with hunched shoulders. His emotions balanced between despair for Squire and gratitude towards these complete strangers who had saved his life, and now worked desperately to save his friends. "Thank-you," The words escaped Plaza's mouth. He was thinking them, but was actually surprised to find the words vocalized. He had been feeling too rattled to speak.

"If you want your friend to have any chance of survival, you'll shut up, and let me concentrate," Poison snapped over her shoulder.

"Poison, will he make it?" Heart asked, knowing that the muscular stranger wanted to ask the same, but couldn't. The way Poison had just spoken to him he had probably bitten off his own tongue, others had before.

"We should be able to move him without jeopardizing his condition, but like Kalide said he needs the infirmary," she began repacking the med-kit. "Everybody into the ship. Let's be ready to roll when Kalide and Winterkill return."

Plaza reached over and wrapped his fingers around Poison's upper right arm. Forcing her to stop and look at him, seizing her attention. "Honestly, thank-you."

She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and shot Plaza a deathly stare, sternly warning him. "To begin with, don't ever touch me again. Secondly," Poison breathed in deeply to calm herself. "Secondly, you can thank me when those other two men are safely back in that ship. Until then, instead of standing around blubbering how grateful you are, especially since I really don't care, you can show your appreciation by helping me move your friend here into the ship...please." She felt guilty for snapping at this poor stranger, but David was still out there, alone, chasing some madman.

"Poison!" Eagledawn called for her attention. "They'll be here. Kalide will be able to track him."

She did not want, she did not need, and she did not care for Wilson's assurances. If Poison did not think he would shatter in his feeble condition, she would have slapped him. Slapped him and knocked the condescending tone right out of his mouth. Did he honestly believe she was some lovesick, dependant woman who would sit pining for her man's return? Never! But deep inside it ate at her; she knew she should have been the one to go after David.

"I'll prepare the Bethlehem for immediate take off," Heart said.

"You do that," were the frozen words of the Ice Queen's response.

The machine's engines hummed to life, and an anticipatory silence draped the Bethlehem's interior as they waited for their team-mates.

Five gruelling minutes after he had left, Kalide appeared in the Bethlehem.

"Where's David? Why isn't he with you?" Poison asked while rising from her seat.

"Gone!" Kalide threw up his arms in a dumbfounded gesture. "There was nothing."

"They could not have just disappeared," Eagledawn wheezed.

"Where is he, Kalide?" Poison asked again. Her tone rose up a notch as her anger began to flare.

"I don't know. They're both gone. I found traces of blood, some David's, but besides that there was nothing, no other signs, no markings, no tracks, no evidence of a struggle. I ran through my sensory array, radar, thermal...all nothing."

"I don't believe what you're telling me, Kalide. What? Did they just vanish? Is that what you are trying to tell me?" Poison ranted. Her temper was now up and running at full pace.

"Poison, calm down," Eagledawn ordered. "There has got to be a reasonable explanation, but..."

"No, screw this," Poison cut him off. "You should have let me go after him in the first place."

"It wouldn't have made any difference," Kalide interjected.

"I'm going," Poison said.

"No you are not," Eagledawn stated sharply. "We have to get back to Stardawn, there's no time for this right now."

"We can't just leave!"

"We have to."

"How can you just abandon him like this?"

"We're not abandoning him. He's gone and we have a dying man on our ship!"

"I'm not leaving without David," Poison said resolutely. "Kalide, open the access locks."

"Squire doesn't have time for this, Poison," Kalide was unwavering.

"Get out of my way. You can leave, I don't care, but I'm going back for David."

"Heart," Eagledawn gave an unspoken instruction.

She shot him a surprised look; Heart needed to ascertain how serious he was.

He nodded.

They all knew that Heart possessed the uncanny ability to play the puppeteer with other people's emotional strings. She could not specifically read people's thoughts but feel emotions. Her extraordinary talent lay in her ability to alter, or modify, someone's existing emotional state. Under her persuasion hate would turn to feelings of love, sadness could turn to joy. In Poison's present state of mind, under the circumstances, anger could be swayed towards a more manageable calm. Heart had never used her gift on any of her teammates before though, and she was reluctant to do so now.

She unbuckled the harness keeping her secure in the command chair, and rose to face her intended target.

Poison spun on her. "Don't you dare attempt those mind games with me you Bitch!" A condemning finger pointed at Heart accentuated her warning.

"Then get a hold of yourself so we can get out of here," Heart retorted as she reclaimed her seat.

"Their response time sucks, but it appears we're going to have company soon," Kalide said, insinuating their need for urgency. "I've been keeping an ear to the police bands, and they are on their way. So if we're going to make a move, now would be a really good time."

"Open the fucking access lock!" Poison demanded of everyone, anyone.

"Heart, get us out of here before the police arrive," Eagledawn requested before he swivelled to face Poison. "We're not leaving him, Poison. David is gone, disappeared, but I promise you we'll go after him as soon as we can. We do not have the time, or the ability to follow an invisible trail right now. Too many of us need medical attention. I give you my word, we'll find him."

If not for the rise and fall of the young man's chest, it would have appeared that Squire was dead. Poison's gaze fixated on the comatose body as Eagledawn bartered with her.

"I can hear the sirens," she said, meeting Eagledawn's eyes. "We better go."

The Bethlehem rose into the concealment of the night. Four police cars, their wailing sirens and flashing lights an invasion of the serene darkness, converged at the alley's mouth moments later.

So she did not have to bare witness to her teammate's pitying looks, Poison sat staring at the wall. Unconsciously she chewed on her lower lip as her thoughts gnawed at her pride.

Poison had lost control. The reason why continued to flood back into her mind as swiftly as she would suppress it.

David.

David and her feelings for him.

She had taken an extremely big risk confronting him the other day, and both of them knew it was going to take time to open up. She wasn't used to feeling for someone this way; it had been a long time. No matter how hard she tried to deny it, she loved him. And that was why the control was slipping away. A tinge of fear rippled across her heart as she gave recognition to these feelings because they were emotions she had long ago abandoned. It meant only one thing; she was no longer alone.

The sweet coppery taste of blood played on her tongue as her prying teeth broke the skin on her lower lip. She did not feel the painful sensation. She felt the loneliness, the helplessness of love. And love, as she discovered many years ago, allowed for too many opportunities for failure, for being hurt, for betrayal.
CHAPTER SIX

Being wrapped in the pitch, solid darkness scared him, and as he faded in and out of consciousness, David momentarily believed that he had finally transcended the barrier between life and death. He was finally being allowed the peace everyone else's life ran to. He did not like it. A salted tear escaped and trickled down his cheek. For as long as could remember he had wanted to know that one day he would die. He had needed to believe that eventually his spirit would lift from its mortal shell and re-join with those people close to him that had left him behind. The ones he had loved and outlived.

It was the thought of living in eternal loneliness, with a slowly detaching heart, that had driven David to seek death. Now, finally being there on the other side he found there was nothing, no peace, no feelings of contentment or rapture, only a void. A never-ending abyss.

"Let me out!" David's throat cracked and rasped as he tried to scream. He had been screaming for hours without realizing it. His throat was scorched raw and barely an audible whisper was produced. "I want to go back."

Trapped in a panic he desperately tried to escape, to move. Twisting, heaving, lurching, he was held captive in the embrace of death. He could hear the mocking laughter. Stinging his ears it came from everywhere, and anywhere. His wish had come true, in the form of a cruel joke, David could achieve a definitive, permanent death, but it was unlike anything ever imagined.

"I want to go back. Live! Live! Live..." He tried to scream again. The desperation of wishful thinking chanting in his mind. His obsession was over; it scared him, made him afraid. An emotion he had not wholly experienced for a very long time, and did not want to experience ever again, for the rest of his eternal life. If he could get back? If David could only..."Live!"

As his mind reeled back into a conscious world his eyes opened to nothing. The darkness still covered him, coating him with a second skin. He was lost and confused. David struggled against his bindings, but was still unable to move. Was he still dead? David's eyes wandered aimlessly as the horror crept up on him. Playing with his mind and disrupting any coherent thought.

Twisting and insisting, sour memories intruded on him in a clasp he could not pull away from, making David dream awake. Gripped in an icy cold fear he was swept into a hallucinatory state to relive nightmares that were survived a long time ago.

The early morning sun weaned its waking caress through the bedroom window, enticing the sleeping boy to awake and venture into a new day. The boy's bedroom door suddenly flew open with a sleep wrenching crash, forcefully resigning the morning rays from their gentle tradition.

"Wakey, wakey, David!" It was Joseph. David's older brother by eight years, but to David, he was not family. Joseph was the scourge of his every waking moment. A nefarious demon whose only desire was to plague David and lay waste to any amount of joy that might attempt to creep into the young boy's life.

"Leave me alone, Joseph. I'm awake. I'll come down in a minute," David said with sleep still dangling off his eyelids. With his gaze fixated on his brother, David pulled the blankets closer around his tiny frame in a protective gesture. It was for the sense of security. The blankets would be about as much protection as wearing a pair of shorts to ward off the cold at the North Pole.

"Oh no, no, no," Joseph was speaking with his big-brother-knows-best voice. This, to David, translated as meaning that there was a storm brewing on the horizon, and it was blowing in fast. It was too early to start the day this way. "C'mon, Sugar, let's go. Dad wants everybody downstairs. He's got something to show us."

David cringed as Joseph's hand tussled his hair to accentuate his use of the pet name "Sugar".

"Don't touch me!" David yelled as his arm shot out from under the blanket and swung in a wide arc. There was no sound as the wild fist only connected with air.

Before David could realize he was impulsively trying to strike his brother a hand slapped his face. "You stupid idiot. Get up now, and get downstairs."

David lay in his bed unmoving, paralyzed. A storm was not on its way; it had arrived before he had even been awakened. The fact that he had, mistakenly, taken a swing at his brother did not matter. It never did. Joseph was being this way because their father had something to show them. A storm was raging, and Joseph lived for the storm.

In one fluid motion the covers were ripped off of the bed and David was thrown face first to the shag carpeted floor.

"Downstairs now!" Joseph's order was emphasized with a swift kick in David's ass.

"I'm going, I'm going," David whimpered as he edged out of the room. His defiance in following his brother's request to get out of bed had left him as soon as he felt the foot in his backside.

"Well move faster, Sugar," his demonic brother chanted. "Daddy's waiting."

The two boys emerged into the kitchen where David's mother, sister, and father had already gathered. As on many other mornings, just like this one, his father was seated at the head of the table with his hands balled into tight fists and his face flushed red with anger.

"Ah, the dead finally walk. C'mere boy, I want to show you something," David's father said as he motioned for him to come closer.

Joseph's lips stretched from ear to ear in a wide, sadistic grin as he gave David a push from behind to get him moving.

David slowly made his way to his father's side. His questioning eyes burrowed into his sister, and then his mother, seeking an explanation to what was going on. Hoping he could read some kind of answer in their stares.

"Don't look at them, boy," his father grabbed his arm and pulled David tightly beside him. "Look at me; I'm the one talking to you."

A crisp, sterile ring of silence danced throughout the kitchen. David looked towards his mother again, as the need to understand gripped his thoughts. What had she done now? What was going to be the right answer for David to give to save her from another beating?

"Did you hear me there, boy?" Father asked while shoving another milk dripping spoonful of cereal into his vile mouth.

"Yes, sir," David answered with a hushed breath, too afraid to say the wrong thing and be the catalyst to ignite his father's rage.

David's father squeezed his arm and shook the young boy's frame back and forth. The force of the fast, firm twisting snapped David out of his fear induced haze.

"Yes, Sir!" David repeated loudly, and astutely.

Joseph's tooth bearing grin widened further, and now covered half of his face.

"Better, boy, better," his father commended with another mouthful of cereal. The grip on David's arm loosened, but did not entirely let go. It was only the beginning.

The whole room was frozen in time. David's mother stood stalk still against the kitchen counter next to the stove. She was somewhere else, pleading for the safety of her children, running a list of prayers through her mind. They would never be answered. She knew this because they had never been answered before, except once, once upon a time, but it was something to hold on to; a little chain of hope to wrap her arms around and keep her on her feet for the next ten minutes. Behind closed doors, in similar situations, she would probably collapse to the floor in whimpering fear, but here with her children she would be strong. She would do her best to protect them. She prayed.

Joseph had not moved from the bottom of the stairway. He still stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, and his wicked grin growing wider with every hate filled word that ballooned from his father's mouth. In this family there father was the devil ruling his own little hellish domain, and where their father was Old Nick, the Lord Harry, good old Mister Scratch, Joseph was the prince of darkness. His father's subordinate partner. Joseph drank every ounce of pleasure he could from the misery of his family that was delivered through his father's abusive hand.

Standing with her back braced up against the refrigerator, David's sister, Stephanie, was situated so she was behind their father. She was subconsciously hiding because where she stood kept her out of the view of her father's dark gaze. Stephanie's eyelids had closed to narrow slits. It appeared that she was sleeping with the refrigerator bracing her back and holding her up. She was not sleeping. Stephanie was watching the scene unfold before her with growing, and complete, disdain. She hated Joseph, but she utterly and completely despised her father.

Stephanie was only thirteen, just four years older than David was, but she acted like a woman who had lived through a lifetime of despair. She had no friends outside the household, and the only two people who were nestled in her fragmented heart were her mother, and her younger brother, David. They were the two links to the real world that kept her lost soul from teetering over the edge of insanity.

Best friends, David loved her and she loved him. The pleading she caught in his eyes as he quickly turned to her almost crushed Stephanie. The fragility of his small body as it was ruthlessly snapped back and forth by her father. She felt so confused. She was held in a tightly weaved emotional struggle between spite and terror. There was nothing she could do to help David. What could she do? Besides her father, there was Joseph to contend with also. The golden boy who watched his father's back, who was watching her. A flood of madness rushed through her and the only thing Stephanie wanted was to claw that twisted grin off of Joseph's face.

Every time her anger enveloped her this way and she tried to move, tried to follow her compulsions, claw Joseph's face, stand up to her father, she could not. The trepidation holding her captive acted like a magnet that held her frozen against the refrigerator, refusing to let her say, or do, anything. She could only stand there and watch...and hate.

After he finished shovelling his cereal into his mouth, David's father leaned into the table and retrieved the cup of coffee that was waiting for him.

"This, my boy, is what I wanted to show you," so everyone's attention would be directed at him, Father hoisted the mug of black liquid into the air as if he was giving a toast. "Raising three children, and supporting a greedy, lazy wife." He paused to shoot his wife a devil's glare. "I have a long day ahead of me; a long day of working my ass off so I can put food on the table for my family of vultures." He looked deeply into David's eyes. "Do you understand what I'm saying, boy?"

"Yes sir, Father," David replied correctly, not really caring about the words in his father's sermon, but wishing that once, just once, his father would call him by his name.

"I'm not a greedy man. I only ask for one thing out of life, just one thing."

He always wanted just one thing out of life, and to every member in that house that simple phrase was like the biblical seven signs.

"And that is for a hot cup of coffee to start my day."

A warning to the beginning of Armageddon.

"Am I asking too much?"

David nodded. He had meant to shake his head, to say a no, but he nodded. He had lost focus on his father's words when he heard the signal phrase "I only ask one thing", and had instinctively nodded. He had been captivated by what the phrase really meant.

A simple mistake.

The catalyst.

The excuse.

An arm shot up like a viper and he smashed David in the face with the back of his hand.

"Smart ass boy!" His father exclaimed as he delivered the blow. Father was the storm. His hands were the lightening and his words the thunder.

A stream of blood trickled out of David's left nostril.

Joseph beamed with delight as the thick, red ooze came in a steadier stream.

Joseph loved the storm.

"If you begin to cry, I swear to the Lord Jesus I'll rip your tongue out!"

"No! Please, leave him alone," David's mother managed to choke out her objection.

"Shut up you insipid Bitch! I'm not doing anything but showing the boy something. Something, if I might add, for which you are to blame," he shouted at her with flaring nostrils, and eyes that had closed to condemning pinholes.

When was she not to blame in the Devil's kingdom?

"Take a sip of my coffee, boy, and tell me what you think," he ordered while holding the mug up to young David.

"I don't want to. I don't like it," David whimpered with the blood from his nostril seeping into the corner of his mouth, or popping off his chin in faucet drips.

The catalyst.

The excuse.

The lightning struck again. A full back hand into David's face that threatened to crush his nose with its wet smack.

As the sound of the blow echoed against the kitchen walls, Stephanie felt herself flinch. A tiny movement that meant that the bindings of years, that held her back to the refrigerator, were loosening. She was not magnetized by her fear anymore. Something inside of her broke with every drop of David's blood that added to the ever-increasing pool on the kitchen floor.

From under her brow she looked over at Joseph. Was he still watching her? No. As far as she could tell by his profane smile, he was long lost in the funhouse of his father's shadow. Stephanie's hand slithered into the small drawer on her left side and her fingers rested against something cold, hard, and sharp. The hand popped behind her back with the object held firm in her fist.

A fragmented smile cracked her lips in a portrait of malice, outlined with the grace of an angel. She was free. Free to ensure that her beloved David would never again bleed because of their patriarch's hand. Free to put an end to her mother's countless tears. Free to bring a conclusion to the storm. The fear had disappeared, hidden in the red droplets of her younger brother's pain.

The ceramic mug rested against his lips and the bitter black liquid poured into his mouth. To David's surprise it was not hot, it didn't burn his tongue like the one other time he had stolen a sip of his mother's coffee.

"It...It's cold," David said as his father took the mug from him.

"My point exactly! I come downstairs this morning for one goddamn thing, a hot cup of coffee, and it's cold. I ask for one simple thing and your worthless mother can't even do that for me. I give, give, give, with no return."

"I-I-I can make another pot," David's mother stuttered her reasoning. She knew that her husband was reaching the point of eruption. She had been through the motions so many times over the years, but if she could act quickly enough it would be possible to calm him. Calm the raging bull before all hell broke loose.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Her husband questioned her. "Joseph, does she really think I'm that much of an idiot?"

Joseph was like a child in his excitement. His father was including him in the morning festivities; finally recognizing his ability and desire to follow in the footsteps laid before him. "I think she does Father," the family legacy would live for another generation.

"Tell me! Why should I waste my time waiting for another pot of coffee to brew? I can't take the risk; you fucked it up the first time. For Christ's sake my whole day is ruined! You've ruined my whole God damn day!" He was raving now. His flushed face trembling with every word. "Who's going to go out and work while I sit here waiting? Who? You?"

"It will only take a minute, Adam. I'll have a new cup ready in no time at all," Mother said.

Spraying its contents across the room, the mug of wasted coffee flew at her. They all watched as their mother ducked, the ceramic cup exploding against the cupboards where her head had just been. Their father had terrific aim. Years of practice.

Fragments of the makeshift bullet scattered across the kitchen as the cup, now shrapnel, shot in every direction. Bits of jagged pieces fell into her hair as the small rivers of coffee painted their way down the wooden cupboard's doors.

"Oh, Adam, please? I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Wasted words my dear, wasted words. It's too little too late. You're sorry! You've already ruined my day, and all you can say is that you're sorry? Wasted words, you should have thought about how sorry you are a little earlier," their father, Adam, said. He raised himself from his chair only to be brought to a stunned halt by the voice behind him.

"You bastard!" It was Stephanie, free. "It's not her fault. If you didn't wait half an hour before you decided to drink your stupid coffee, it wouldn't be cold. Blame yourself."

"Excuse me?" Their father said with a shocked disbelief. "Did you say something? Did I ask you to speak?" He looked her up and down; reading the hate in her eyes and the fear her body spoke. "My princess, my naive princess, your opinion is not wanted here, so just keep your ignorant mouth shut!"

Their mother was busy picking up the broken pieces of the mug and wiping the dripping coffee from the cupboards, completely unaware, or playing innocent, as her husband moved closer to her; silent as a cat.

Father had completely disregarded Stephanie's outburst. Her mother was still in danger. David was still bleeding.

Bleeding and crying.

Stephanie's grip tightened around the item hidden behind her back, as she began chanting under her breath. "Never again. Never again. Never again."

David gasped as his father's foot drove into his mother, causing her to tumble into the kitchen cupboards.

"Wasted words you stupid bitch. You'll be sorry. You'll be sorry because I sure as fuck have something to show you," Adam yelled as he sent another wild foot into his wife's back. "Now get up!" He hoisted his wife off of the floor and held her tightly against his own body. The force of his grip was so strong she could barely breathe. It was either that or the realization that her back was now broken into a million pieces from the kicks he had delivered. Disorientated from the pain, her husband dragged her across the kitchen like a rag doll. "Obviously you need to learn the difference between hot and cold."

Smouldering embers flared in her heart with new life, as Stephanie watched as her father banged his wife into the counter in front of the sink.

He cranked the hot water all the way on. Steaming water gushed from the metal faucet and Stephanie's mother futilely tried to resist as her husband, using the weight of his own body to keep her pinned against the sink, held her arm out; keeping it straight and stiff with both of his hands.

"I'll show you the difference. I'll teach my stupid little bitch," Adam rasped in his wife's ear as he edged her shaking hand closer to the scorching water.

The tears of her pain, fear, and broken spirit ran freely from their mother's eyes, and her howl of anguish escaped into the morning as the tips of her fingers were forcefully dipped into the burning stream.

Stephanie brandished the ten-inch blade high above her head. Poising to strike, the razor sharp blade was held tip down as she announced the beginning of her assault with a furious scream. "Never again! Never..."

"Joseph," Father called to his subordinate son as he witnessed his daughter raise the deadly kitchen utensil into the air.

Sprinting across the kitchen, Joseph was upon her before Stephanie could even attempt to save her mother. Driving his fist into her belly her words were cut short as the air was forced from her lungs with his sledgehammer blow. The two siblings fell back against the refrigerator in a deadly wrestle, each vying for control of the lethal blade.

The early morning had escalated into a midsummer's nightmare. The devil of their household and his young prince of darkness worked in perfect unison. Mirror images of each other, brother against sister, father versus mother. David felt his whole world crumble down as he watched with horror while Joseph and his father tortured the only two people he loved. His feet were frozen in place while David silently, hopelessly, bore witness to his mother's and sister's defeat. His wild eyes received the violent frenzy before him and David felt the undeniable revelation surge up from somewhere deep inside. This was the end, someone would die today, and things would never be the same.

Drooling with the hopeful possibility that a bone may break, Joseph had one of his hands firmly clamped around Stephanie's throat. Squeezing harder, harder, and keeping her back pinned against the refrigerator. He used his other hand to twist the arm that Stephanie was using to maintain possession of the knife. He wrenched her wrist, and bent her arm. Smiling. Smiling ear to ear and loving every pain delivering minute of the storm.

With her skin burning and her bones on the verge of forcefully moving in directions they were unaccustomed to, Stephanie screamed, and her fingers unwillingly releasing the handle of the ten-inch knife.

The weapon clatter-clanked lifelessly onto the hard linoleum of the kitchen floor.

Desperate to escape Joseph's torturous grasp, Stephanie drove her knee upward into his groin.

Completely exposing his porcelain white teeth, Joseph's grin widened at the sudden onrush of sparkling, white flashes below his waist. Joseph revelled in his ability to ignore the pain of her crippling attack. And it sent a new wave of anger pumping throughout his body.

The back of Joseph's hand shot across Stephanie's left cheek. The momentum of the back handed slap sent her head rocketing backwards, smacking into the refrigerator.

"Sorry about the Steph, but you need to learn not to hit a guy below the belt," Joseph said gleefully, not letting go of his sister.

A wad of bile choked Stephanie's throat, goading her to dispel the breakfast she had not yet eaten. Stephanie turned her head back and looked deep into Joseph's eyes. She looked beyond his smiling outer shell and into the young man who was in a complete state of rapture over the pain he was causing her.

She looked into the man who made David his sugar. In that flickering moment she searched for a thread of understanding, but all she could find was an empty vessel that had been fuelled by their father with hate filled blackness. She could feel his hot breath wafting over her. He was so close, pressing against her, his enlarged groin needling into her thigh.

Overcome with disgust, Stephanie spit her phlegm-coated wad of bile straight into Joseph's face.

His hand instantly slapped her again, her head thudding into the refrigerator.

She held down the wave of nausea creeping over her, and defiantly spit at Joseph a second time.

Another slap, the hardest one yet, belted Stephanie's left cheek, and she fell to the floor with the burning imprint of Joseph's palm decorating her skin.

Both women of the household were now caught in a state of mirror imagery. Stephanie lay in a fetal position on the cold tiles of the kitchen floor, fighting off the waves of nausea and kaleidoscope dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her. Their mother was huddled against the cupboards below the still steaming sink, cradling her burnt hand in the crevice of her breast.

"Joseph!" His father called for his undivided attention.

"Yes, Father?" Joseph turned and replied, willing and eager to serve.

"Bring me the knife, Joseph."

Having gained more control over her body, Stephanie managed to peel herself off of the floor and onto her knees. "You Bastard!" She directed her venomous words at her father. "Look at what you've done. How can you do this?"

"My sweet princess," his tone lowered to that of patronization. "I have done nothing. Don't you understand princess? I love you all, but it's your mother's fault. I try to teach her, I ask her for just one thing..."

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Stephanie howled defiantly.

"That is enough! God-damn-it have you not learned anything. I teach and I teach, but you never learn," their father breathed in deeply, taking in the sweet blood red rage that was boiling inside of him. "So much like your mother. She pumps the lies into your heads. She's the problem, she's the hate, and she fills you with the lies. She turns my own children against me. My God! The things my family puts me through.

"There are lessons that need to be learned. Joseph, bring me that knife, the one my own princess dared to use against me. Then take your sister outside and show her how to respect those who love her."

Joseph retrieved the fallen blade and handed it to his father, "I'll do my best, Sir, but she's so stubborn."

"Your best is the one thing I ask for son, the one thing, nothing more."

Standing behind his younger sister, Joseph seized a fistful of Stephanie's blond hair, using it as a leash to drag her towards the back door as if she was the family dog.

"Going to teach you now, Steph," he chanted seductively as if he thought this was some perverse form of foreplay.

Stephanie cried out at the sudden ripping sensation. She could feel every single strand of hair, being yanked by her brother, struggling to hold onto a fleshy perch, desperately refusing to pop out.

"Don't go! Don't go! Don't leave me Stephanie," David whispered while stretching his arms out to reach her. Fear kept him in place and his begging arms were not consoled by her touch.

Adam jerked his wife to her feet by the scruff of her neck, and poked the tip of the hungry ten-inch blade under her chin. "This whole day has gone to hell because of you."

She shuddered in his grasp, and her eyes ached to get the knife in sight, searching, waiting.

"We've been through this over and over again, Mary, but still you do not learn. You just can't seem to get it through that thick skull," he tapped her forehead with the flat of the blade. "You continue to be the bad little girl you've always been. Well, I can't take it anymore. I'm going to give you one final lesson," Adam waved the blade back and forth in front of his wife's face in a hypnotizing motion. "And this time we're going to make sure you have something to remember it by."

Skitter kicking across the kitchen floor, Stephanie held onto Joseph's wrists with both her hands. Trying to lift herself, to keep up with his stampeding pace, and ease the pressure of her tearing scalp.

Crying on rusted hinges the back door squeaked open with a kick from Joseph's foot. In the corner of her eye Stephanie saw her father sadistically poke-poke-poking his wife with the point of the knife. Her arms lashed out and grabbed the doorframe just as the cool air from outside wafted over her.

"David?" She called to her younger brother.

Lost and frightened eyes stared back at her from David's face.

"Let go of the door, you stupid bitch!" Joseph demanded.

Knuckles burning white with the strain, Stephanie held tight to the doorframe, completely ignoring her demon brother. "David? Never again! Never again, David! Do you understand? Never..." Sharp pain exploded in her back where Joseph's right foot had suddenly taken refuge. "No more David. Do you hear me?"

David nodded with an attempted understanding.

Another driving foot crashed into Stephanie's back. "Let go of the fucking door!"

"You go outside with your brother right now, Princess, or so help me God I'm going to come out there myself, and then you'll know my little princess. Then you'll know how much your Daddy loves you."

A tug at her scalp, a kick to her back, her father's threat of his loving touch, he was making Joseph do this to her because he could never hurt her this way, not this way. Stephanie's sanity began to unravel like a mummy shedding its burial bindings.

Her eyes blazed into a trembling David. "Rip his balls off, David. Rip his fucking balls off!" She called to him as Joseph tore her away from the doorframe and dragged her out into the morning.

David caught the look in her eyes, shadowed behind the deluge of her tears, and in that instant he knew. Stephanie had been their father's princess, just as he had always been Joseph's sugar. The words echoed in his mind, "Rip his balls off, David. Rip his fucking balls off!" David understood. Never again.

The back door retracted on its spring and slammed to a close. Stephanie was gone.

David watched as his father continued to poke-poke-jab his wife with the thirsty knife. He could hear Stephanie's scream, from somewhere outside, getting more distant.

His mother being jabbed and poked as if it was supposed to tickle her.

Stephanie fading away.

David was spinning in a daze; everything was happening so fast, rushing over him and overloading his senses.

A strange animalistic howl of despair erupted from somewhere deep inside David. More like a dying animal, the sound was nothing a human voice had ever made, or could obtain before. He was frozen, staring at his father, howling.

"Jesus Christ, boy! Shut up!"

And howling

Taking a break from his tickle fest he pointed the blade towards David to accentuate his threat. "Shut up or I'm going to cut your fucking tongue out!"

Howling.

"You stop that right now," his father forced the keen edge of the knife against his wife's throat. "Or your Mother is dead. If you don't shut the hell up right now, she's dead! Then you'll be next. Do you hear me, boy?"

The dying animal howl reached a higher pitch and David began to shake. He could feel daddy's little princess' words reaching into him. "No more David. Do you understand? Never again." And tear at him. "Rip his balls off, David. Rip his fucking balls off."

With his arms flailing wildly above his head, David charged across the kitchen screaming.

"No! David, don't!" His mother begged.

Hearing his wife's pleading warning, Adam's arm reflexively spun and lashed out in a sweeping arc.

The edge of the blade wisped across David's throat and kissed the jugular vein.

Gobs of the young boy's lifeblood spewed across the room as David fell to the reddening floor, clutching his throat with both hands. He no longer howled, but lay there spasmodically twitching, gurgling, and striving to hold back the flow of blood with the lattice work of his hands. All of his anger, his despair, his lost innocence, poured out from the wound, as David choked on bubbles of blood trying to grasp a final breath.

Mary ran to him, slipped on the blood coated, linoleum floor and came crashing down beside her son. She clutched at David and pulled herself closer. The stream of her tears washed onto her son as she held David close to her breast, cradling him, and whispering her eternal denial.

The room was suddenly filled with laughter. It originated from the pit of his stomach as her husband, David's father, David's murderer, laughed. The first genuine expression of joy he had released in years. The sound of pure hellish ecstasy.

Breathing in gasps, and blinking hard against the white light that temporarily blinded him, David surged against the bonds that restrained him in a crucified position. The dream like memories still ran vividly in his mind. He screamed at the burning sensation where the knife had slashed across his neck, and his father had killed him, twenty-three years ago.

Behind closed eyes he could still see Stephanie's face with picture clarity, just as she was being whisked away outside. A flood of emotion threatened to drown him. David had almost forgotten that miserable day, so long ago, having buried it amidst the other refuse of his mind. Now he beckoned the childhood memory and the remembrance of his family's pain. He had always been aware of the trials he had survived; they had survived, in that beach house when he was growing up. That personal history was the foundation for who he was today. He had been hiding from his past all these years, but now he was able to feel and finally comprehend the utter savagery of those years.

Whatever was happening to him, wherever he was, had opened the casket of his mind and released the tortured memories. He was alive; never really attaining a permanent state of death as his thoughts had originally tricked him into believing. David was being held captive, but he was alive! His heart pounded against his chest, and he sank deeper into his thoughts, burrowing deeper into the casket. Remembering, bathing himself in the anguish of a forgotten childhood.

Beaming with the grace of just recently being nominated Lord Chamberlain by his Liegelord; Kriegen lumbered down the dark corridors of the mountain fortress. The captive had awakened, and he would personally deliver the news to his Liege.

Moving swiftly on his repulsively muscular legs, chain mail rhythmically clinking with every step, he traversed over a mile in the maze of halls before being brought to a halt by two royal guards.

"Kriegen," the guard on the left acknowledged as he returned his sword to its sheath.

"Lord Chamberlain Kriegen, you insolent whelp, Lord Chamberlain!" Kriegen insisted with a telekinetic fist that crushed the guard's windpipe. A wicked smile played on his lips as he turned to face the other guard. "I seek to have party with the Liegelord."

"As you command, Lord Chamberlain Kriegen."

Kriegen laughed joyfully at his appellation. Lord Chamberlain indeed!

The royal guard disappeared behind the door and several minutes later it opened.

"Liegelord will have party with you now," the guard announced and pulled the door fully open, allowing Kriegen to enter freely.

"Kriegen!" Liegelord welcomed him. "Ever the hungry predator," he continued as he saw one of his guards splayed out dead in the doorway. "Must you kill everything in sight?"

"It has never been my intention to allow a false sense of security to comfort anyone."

"So I can see," Liegelord said almost mockingly. "And what of my security? Am I to fear that my throne is under threat of usurpation?"

"I am your security. You sit upon your throne, and your throne sits upon me," Kriegen explained.

"But my own personal guard? Power is restraint, Kriegen, and you have none. Where are your boundaries?"

"I am your personal guard," Kriegen became defensive under the Liegelord's taunting. "These men are extensions of me. Each one of them is my sword and if the metal becomes weak, or brittle, I must cast it aside for it is useless to me and useless for you."

"Kriegen," Liegelord stated, raising himself from his seat. "I have never seen a dog so loyal, but your grovelling is unnecessary, boring. Enough then with the banter; I hope there is more of a reason for you being here than wanting to flaunt your power by killing my guards?"

Kneeling and tucking his head down into a bow of respect, Kriegen declared. "I have come to you, Lord, to tell you that the prisoner has awakened."

"The one you claim that cannot die?"

"The immortal I brought for you, Lord."

"Excellent! Come, Kriegen, let us pry into the heart of this young man that has the power to defy heaven and hell."

The pain was excruciating, never ending. For hours now they had made David suffer incomprehensible agony, denying him the escape of death, and leaving him teetering on the abyss of consciousness. They tormented him with an array of inhuman devices, and then stopped a split second before his body would shut down. He was allowed a few precious moments reprieve before it would all begin again.

He drifted in and out of reality, seeking solitude within his mind, trying to push past the pain and go somewhere else with his thoughts.

His body was held tight. His arms, from the elbows down, were encased in large metal manacles. The same was with his legs, from the knees downward, encased. His body was pulled taught in a crucifixion. In the beginning he had fought against his bindings, straining and pulling, twisting and heaving, beckoning for an unresponsive nature to aid in his escape, but it was hopeless. He could not move, and his ability to control weather did not work here. Somehow the devices that held him captive were inhibiting his power. Exhausted, David surrendered to the realization that there was no way to escape. He could barely move, he could barely scream anymore, his defiance had slowly been washed away with the onset of each new trial of abuse. Another whirring machine was wheeled up to him. What the hell were they doing to him? The sound of the device scraped his ears. Weird metal protrusions invaded his body, forcefully taking David on a sadistically guided misery tour of undiscovered dimensions.

Every time he was pulled closer to the dark void of death, David's thoughts wandered, groping for a better place, a happier time, but they were so few and far between; lost in a lifetime of horrifying experiences. His mind wandered aimlessly, delirious, leaving David unaware of how long he had been held captive. Days? Weeks? Time had melded into a cyclical dance between pain and sanity bending confusion. He could barely recall seeing anyone, or being spoken to. There was the occasional man, hidden under a black cloak with an adjoining hood, who would shove another needle into his arm; injecting some unknown substance, or extracting more and more of David's blood, or worse, attaching yet another piece of an uncanny device to send him to new heights in the world of anguish. David held on by grasping at the three people who made his life worth something. There was his mother, his sister, and even though he recklessly tried not to admit it, Poison. He always eventually came back to Poison. The one person who had crept into his heart no matter how hard he tried to keep her locked out. His mouth tingled at the memory of her sweet tasting lips. The first kiss. The first time he had opened himself to someone else.

"Lea," her name wafted from his lips as he was forced down into unconsciousness, relenting once again to the roller coaster of abuse he was having to endure.

He remembered how for days they had been tripping over one another. Poison trying to get close to him and David trying to keep her away. Then it seemed they would switch, with her being cold, or preoccupied. He wanted her, needed her, but after everything his past had taught him he could not allow the emotional attachment. He was immortal, and to love someone, to allow them to love him would be an act of cruelty. So he let the game with Poison continue, wanting her to wrap her arms around him, but keeping himself just out of reach. Fortunately for David she was not one who was easily deterred from getting something if she really wanted it. Poison was too damn stubborn. David needed her. He needed an emotional anchor to the real world, so slowly, delicately, his resistances thinned. The protective net that was weaved around his emotions was finally lifted by Poison's indomitable will.

One night was all it had taken. One star littered night when David was caught unaware, unprepared, and the secrets of his past, the inner workings of his heart, had poured from him like a winding river, dumping its contents into the beckoning ocean.

The floodgates of his memory opened to take him away. A sweet escape from what was really happening beyond his mind in the physical world. Slowly drifting into the past, David's thoughts ran to her. It did not matter where he was, what he thought, what he felt, it always ran full circle back to her, to Lea Reyce, Poison.

Arms wrapped around his chest from behind and from over his shoulder, as her body pressed into his back, a whispered breath invaded his ear. "Were you hiding from me?"

Standing on the rooftop of Stardawn Enterprises, looking out over the sleeping city, David's body jerked in shocked surprise. His heart lost a beat at the fragrance of her sweet, perfumed scent.

"No," he responded softly. "I was just thinking."

"About?" Poison questioned.

Unhooking himself from her hugging arms, David walked to the edge of the rooftop. Leaning against the concrete border, which formed the ledge, he answered. "Nothing really."

"Nothing real or really nothing?" She attempted a humorous tactic.

David missed the jest. "Actually, I was thinking how you're not the same woman you make everyone believe you are."

Poison's tone dipped into the barrel of sarcasm. "That's the secret, isn't it David, not letting people know the real you? You're testament to that."

The dance between the two of them had started again. David could feel his desire for Poison well up inside of himself, and like the frightened, lonely child he wanted to run to her and find the comfort in her arms. But he could not respond to his feelings, they were hidden behind the wall of forced seclusion. David lit a cigarette and turned to look out over the gleaming city in the night below.

"And now he turns his back on me!" Poison stated. Her voice still fuelled with a rich abundance of cynicism.

"You act so cold towards everyone, everything, Poison..."

"Lea," she interrupted. "I'd like to think that if nothing else, at least we're on a first name basis, David. Your insistence to refer to me by my call-sign is just another way for you to attempt to keep me at bay." She moved in beside him, snatching the smoking cigarette from his pursed lips and flinging it over the edge of the building.

He ignored her action and continued. "You act so cold. Everyone believes you're as hard as nails, but it's just an act, isn't it?"

"Comes with the job, and years of practice," she looked at David with a puzzled expression. "You sound as if this surprises you, David, but you're exactly the same as me. You can't honestly tell me that you don't care for anyone."

"I can't care. Years of experience, years to come," David replied.

"Secrets?" Poison questioned.

"What?" David cocked his head to look at her.

"You have your secrets, I have mine. But as every child knows, and you seem to misunderstand, is that it really isn't a secret unless you share it with someone."

"Very deep!" David quipped his sarcasm.

"Stop it, just stop because you're really beginning to piss me off, David."

"I have to go Poison. The talk was nice, but I'm out of time, I was lucky enough to win the draw for reconnaissance tonight."

"You are not leaving until we are finished, David," she demanded while grabbing hold of his right arm to keep him from going.

"I am leaving. Besides, I don't understand what there is to finish when we haven't even started anything?"

"You are good! I hate to admit it, but probably even better than me," Lea commended him.

"I don't even know what you are talking about," David said with growing frustration. He was lying to himself, he knew, but she was so beautiful, so demanding, so warm, and magnetic. He had to get away. She was too close, too close to shattering his barrier.

"Don't fool yourself, David. We are the same. You can't push me away, and I know how to get inside."

"But..." Lea pressed her index finger to his lips, forcing him to keep the words trapped within the confines of his mouth.

"So you can go ahead and tell me how you don't need anyone, tell me how you can never love someone. You can tell me, David, and I'll call you a liar," she paused to gaze into his deep set eyes to make sure he was listening, more importantly, understanding her words. "Push me away as hard as you'd like, Liar, but I'm staying here, right beside you."

David gently removed her finger from his lips and asked. "But what if I say I don't want you, need you, there beside me?"

Wrapping her arms around his neck she pulled him close, kissing him deeply, fully.

"You do. You will," was all she said as she withdrew herself from the kiss.

"I give up, you win," David resigned himself, then stumbled and stuttered around finding his next words. "I do have feelings for you, but I don't know how to decipher them. You have to understand that I locked myself up a long time ago. I made myself believe that I was better off alone. Even if I wanted to I don't know how to open myself up, Lea."

"Well, you just called me by my real name, I'd call that a pretty good start," she tried to lighten the pressure.

"I want this, us, but I've been locked up in myself for so long I don't know how...I only know how to keep pushing you away," he said.

"If you hadn't been pushing, I would have given up a long time ago," Lea confided.

"I don't know how?" He repeated and then stopped, at a loss for words.

"Secrets," she declared matter-of-factly.

"Secrets?" David asked confused.

"It's the secrets, David. Whatever it is you're keeping bottled up inside is what makes you so alone," Lea hugged him in a secure, motherly manner. "I won't run away. If I understand what is inside of you, where you're coming from, then we can build on this together."

"Where can I begin?"

"Tell me why you feel you've had to condemn yourself to being alone. Tell me why you keep pushing me away when you admit that you want me. Tell me what makes you think you don't deserve someone who loves you."

"And you'll call me a liar?" David said with a sly look.

"I wouldn't dare dream of it," Lea responded with an assuring smile.

They stood facing each other, staring into each other, trying to read each other. This was new territory for both of them and there was no more time to test the waters.

"Honestly!" David was the first to break the seal of silence. "I do have to go on patrol, it wasn't just an excuse, but I promise we'll talk when I get back."

"You're not getting off that easily. I convinced Kalide to cover for you," she took David's hand in hers. "We can't put this off. We have to, you and me both, get this over with now, or we never will. Please, David, can we finish this?"

David smiled in reluctant agreement. "Are you sure you can handle it, my secrets?"

"Give me some credit, David. You're talking to the one and only ice queen remember?"

"How could I forget," he said.

They both laughed together, a moment that was needed to wash away their fears of what was happening, and ease the tension of the evening.

"Can I ask you one favour though?" She asked and David thought Lea was bringing the conversation back down to a serious level.

He nodded.

"Can we please go inside, I'm freezing out here?"

"I could warm it up for you," David offered.

"No, inside. This is between you and me. I don't want any of your fancy parlour tricks stealing your attention."

"Okay, inside."

"C'mon then and I'll even make tea," Lea suggested.

"You'll make tea?"

"I'll make tea."

"And you are sure you know how to do this?"

"Very funny, smart-ass."

"Well, you might poison me."

"And what if I did? It's not like it'd kill you," Lea retorted.

"Good point!" David stated solemnly. "It wouldn't."

"No, but I might if you don't stop dragging your feet, and get your ass inside."

Their last words, even though they were only meant as a joke, struck truthfully home. He had nothing to fear but being alone. David had spent most of his life by keeping people at arm's length. It was easier that way, but now he knew that there was too much to lose by not taking the risk. He had to allow Lea to get close, before he got too far away.

He gave himself to her, as much as he could, and as Poison listened she came to understand how detached David had become. He cared, his actions proved that, but he did not care for himself, and would not let others close enough to care for him. Poison had crossed his bridge, and no matter what it took she would make him believe that she cared.

As the hours rolled into each other a bond was formed between the two of them. A bond, which was stronger than friendship, but one they would not, David could not, admit to as being love.

They both had long journeys to take, together, and on their own. For David it was going to be learning to crack the seal around his heart, and let her in. Even though she had taken the initial step to pin David down, Poison was carefully placing each step she took. She was too use to her independence, it was something that had developed through her work, and it was how she had been trained, to rely on nobody but yourself. Everyone referred to her as the Ice Queen, but she really wasn't a cold-hearted bitch, she just didn't trust anyone. Lea had been betrayed once before, a long time ago, and David was the first risk she had allowed herself. This was the beginning of something new for both of them, and they had committed to each other, admitted to each other, their feelings. The first bridge had been crossed. Trusting each other, loving each other, was going to be the hard part. Too many years had been spent fighting against that dangerous emotion.

The copper taste filled his mouth, and if he could have seen himself painted the colour scarlet he would have realized the wounds were far more serious than he envisioned. He could feel the wetness of the blood matting in his hair, seeping into his ears, filling his mouth and choking his throat. But in the pitch blackness where he found himself he could not inspect his wounds. David could only feel the throbbing agony emanating from every single pore in his body.

The voice was deep and coarse, a metal casket being drawn down a gravel road. That sinister voice, combined with the sudden illumination of the room's shadow chasing lights, drew David out of his transitory state.

David tried to clear his mind of the numb haze that filled his head after the hours? Weeks? Months? Of torturous experiences he had endured. He then winced at the sharp needling in his ear from the grating voice that caused his heart to throb even more.

"...And I am to believe that this rag doll, this broken frame of what was once a man, is the one who wields the power to defy death?" Liegelord questioned Kriegen of the irony.

"After everything we have done to him, do you not see him breathing my Lord?"

"Stay your cynicism, Kriegen; it is not in your desire to so blatantly insult my intelligence."

David heard the name and held onto it like a fishing line. Reeling himself into clear focus, pulling himself back into coherent thought, through the pain and beyond the memories. "Kriegen," the name barely stumbled out of Winterkill's raw mouth and cracked lips. He raised his head and swollen eyes fixated on the monster before him. "I'll kill you for this, Kriegen. I will kill you!"

The room filled with a thunderous laugh as Liegelord's head fell back and his whole body quaked with his lung's bellow. "Such bravado," Liegelord mused.

Winterkill watched and listened with untrusting eyes as the pure white behemoth moved closer, inspecting.

"Who are you?" David choked out.

The slap raced across his face before he was able to comprehend that Kriegen was there beside him. "Silence your rambling tongue, or I'll cut it out. The Liegelord is the one, the only one, who asks the questions."

"Well at least I know his name now," David quipped and more blood was coughed up from his lungs to fill his mouth. He defiantly released the liquid wad onto the floor. "Can you please move away from me, Kriegen, your breath is making me sick."

Kriegen pressed his face into Winterkill's and forced out more of the pungent breath than was necessary to formulate his words. "Stupid, insipid dog! How dare you?"

"Step down and away, Kriegen. You must be polite to our new guest," Liegelord ordered. "Besides we are all friends here."

"Don't play sweet with me you albino fuck!" David spat. "I can feel my wounds healing, in another minute I'll be whole again. Another minute and you're both dead."

The Liegelord's lipless, white mouth coiled into what passed as a smile, and he edged close to Winterkill. "No fear! After everything I have caused you to suffer with my experiments, you still show no fear?" Leaning closer he pressed his cheek against David's and whispered, almost seductively, into David's ear. "I will humble you!"

An oversized, snow coloured hand wrapped itself around David's bicep and squeezed. Squishing the muscles and pulverizing the arm's bone. Winterkill released an unadulterated howl of misery into the sterilized room.

"There," Liegelord said with satisfaction as he released his crushing grip on David's left arm. "Your healing process has just suffered a major setback."

Exasperated, David choked. "Jesus!"

"Jesus?" Liegelord questioned. "What does Jesus have to do with our relationship?"

"Go to hell!" Winterkill managed to strain his defiance through clenched teeth. The pain caused by the healing, the reformation of muscle, reconstruction of bone, in his arm was immeasurable.

"First Jesus, and that awful Heaven, and now Hell. How freely you use those sacred words, immortal one," Liegelord studied David. "Tell me, what do you know of Heaven and Hell? Do you believe in God? Are you praying to him right now?"

David declined an answer.

"Do you believe a flaming eternity called Hell really exists for those souls that are deemed damned?"

No answer.

"Answer the Liegelord!" Kriegen barked.

"Patience, Kriegen. Obviously our defiant one is in grave amounts of pain and needs to catch his breath."

Silence blanketed the room.

"Do you fear God?" Liegelord continued his line of questioning.

David ignored him. The pain of his torture was subsiding to the point of being bearable. He needed only a moment, a fraction of a second longer, to summon his weather manipulating power, call the lightening...and...Nothing?

The Liegelord continued. "Why would you? You are an immortal, what do you need faith for?"

"I fear no one, Liegelord. I do not need to believe in God or Hell, I'm personally happy with the knowledge that when I bury you in the ground, you're going to do nothing but rot!"

"Enough!" Liegelord shouted the demand. "Does your feeble mind not grasp the situation? You don't believe such a thing as God exists because you cannot die. Why fear what you will never have to experience."

"Well you never met my father. He was a real bastard, a lot like you actually," David taunted with his insulting interruption.

Liegelord seized Winterkill's right bicep and crushed his fist into it just as he had done earlier to David's left arm. "Fearless, smug, and arrogant. You are mine now. Know that I am your Hell, right here, standing in front of you. There is a place that every living soul fears, but you so wantonly disregard, so arrogantly disrespect. It is going to be my personal pleasure to ensure you experience a living nightmare, never ending pain. I am going to teach you what hell is." Liegelord released David's arm. "I will humble you. You will learn fear."

"What do you want from me?" David screamed as his body strained against his shackles.

"I want to know your secrets. I want your gift. I want to hear you beg for release and admit that I am your fear."

"Never!" David defied as he heaved and shook in a vain attempt to break free.

"You will learn. If I have to tear you apart piece by piece, you will learn, you will submit," Liegelord stated making his way out of the room. "Kriegen?"

"Yes, my Liege."

"Summon the Care Givers, and peel the flesh from our young immortal's bones."

Minutes later several black cloaked, hooded men entered the room.

"Let it begin," Kriegen ordered.

Wide eyed, David watched as they prepared a myriad of machines and devices for his personal vacation to hell. One word drifted from his lips in a puff of air. One word to outline the desperation and fear that gripped his body in the memory of the suffering he was going to have to endure all over again. One word. "Shit!"
CHAPTER SEVEN

Mandy Welder shot up from her bed, greeted by her light filled room, the sheets pulling taut around her, bathed in a cold sweat. The nightmare she was just having was so vivid, so real, that her whole upper body shivered. The lights were on, just as she had left them before going to bed, and that mild comfort blanketed her. She rested her head back down into the pillow and tried to remember what it was that had scared the living daylights out of her. Mandy knew that she had been jumpy ever since that crazy night a couple of days ago, but this nightmare was far too real to believe her rude awakening was because of nerves. Too real!

What was so horrible though that it had ripped her from her sleep so suddenly? She couldn't remember. The secret mystery of dreams. Mandy knew, felt it, that there was something important hiding behind those rapid eye movements. Her subconscious, or at least that's how her Psyche professor explained it, was trying to reach her through her dreams. The recent nightmare played on the edge of her mind, coming to the forefront of her thoughts, and just as she was about to grasp what it was it would fade away. Mandy was left with the frustrated feeling that she was being teased; her subconscious was getting revenge on her for something. "I apologize for the pizza," she submitted to herself, hoping she had convinced the plague of nightmares to leave her alone.

The early morning sun crept through her window, and brought a smile to Mandy's face. The brighter the better, her bedroom light was blaring away and the sun was playing peeping tom through her window, adding to the room's warmth and increasing its radiance. Mandy was quickly seduced back to sleep.

The brighter the better.

The headstone was cold and grey. Shaking fingers glided over the impressed words as if he was reading Braille. He felt the words instead of reading them. The inscription on the marker to his wife's final resting place had long ago been committed to memory.

I miss you.

The words echoed in Wilson's heart. He raised himself up off his knees. Two tears fell in succession and were lost amidst the glistening dew of the newly mowed grass of the cemetery grounds. He stood alone, staring at his dead wife's name. Reading it over and over and over as if he still could not believe she was gone. This was as close to her as he could get now, and he always hated having to leave the cemetery, leaving her alone. Prolonging his stay at his wife's gravesite he withdrew the bouquet of fresh flowers that were nestled under his right arm, and bent down to place them against her marker. Wilson was struggling today. The pain of her loss was hitting him harder than it had for a while. He arranged the flowers as best as his amateur hands could; fiddling with the bouquet just to keep his hands busy. He always fidgeted with his hands when he was here. He always wanted to reach out and stroke her hair, touch her skin, and his hands were at a loss with nothing to caress. Finally satisfied with the flowers, his hands at a loss for things to do, Wilson rested his left hand on the carved words again, feeling them.

"Elizabeth," the name of his wife caught in his throat. Just speaking that one word, a name, saying it out loud brought on a deluge of tears. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

How many times in the past three years had he apologized? It never seemed enough. He never questioned himself on if she was listening; Wilson spoke to her because he needed to. He talked to her because guilt still held a firm grip over him. It had been just over three years since Elizabeth's murder. A murder he could have prevented. Wilson apologized a third time to the cold slab of stone standing erect before him; the countless apologies that were never answered. Wilson's guilt remained, refusing to rest and give him peace.

For the second time that morning, Mandy was ripped from her sleep. Guided by some driving impulse she flew out of bed, leaving the duvet and assemblage of pillows on the bed in tangled disarray. The plush carpet cushioned her bare feet as she made her way out of the room. Mandy entered the hallway of the second floor and her hand immediately, instinctively, bee lined for the switch on the wall. The hallway light shone its presence, chasing the morning shadows away. Swiftly she moved down the hall and passed the bathroom door on her right. Mandy's bowels begged for release, but she ignored their pleas. She drifted past another door on her left, the master bedroom, but continued down the hall. Her vision felt blurred like she was still playing out a portion of a dream sequence. Coming to an abrupt halt with her hand resting on the knob to the second door along the left side, Mandy finally allowed herself to breathe. Something in her nightmare had compelled her to come to this bedroom. The one room in her parent's house that she had successfully avoided for the past eighteen months. The room that had been abandoned for almost two years now and had remained, at her mother's demand, virtually untouched since that day. Fear and anticipation welled up inside her at the thought of what revelation lay behind the door, the one she could not convince herself to open. This was the door that would lead Mandy into her brother's room. The room that had been unoccupied since the day he had gone missing, two years ago.

The six-month-old, forest green, Ford Explorer rolled along the narrow roadway that wound throughout the cemetery; moving slowly as if it were being pulled along the track of some sightseeing tour. The explorer came to a gentle halt at the bottom of a small incline. The driver side window opened and a woman's voice called out, breaking the serene silence of the morning. "No matter how hard you try to believe, it's still not going to be your fault."

Startled by the voice, Wilson immediately wiped the remnants of any tears from his eyes with the side of his hand. He slowly turned from his wife's grave to see Heart, leaning from the Ford's window and smiling innocently at him.

"May I be so bold as to ask, what you are doing here?" Wilson spoke as he walked gingerly down through the plots neighbouring his wife.

"Well on such a beautiful day I had the feeling that you would want to buy me lunch," her persuasive smile shone brighter than the sun.

"I'd buy you lunch?" He asked as the corners of his lips turned up in fun.

"Yup!" Was Heart's answer.

Wilson walked around the front of the Explorer to the passenger's side and opened the unlocked door. Seated, he pulled on the seatbelt, latching the safety harness that secured him by his chest and waist. He looked at Heart quizzically. "How did you know where to find me?"

"It's not very difficult, Wilson," she shot him a do-I-look that-stupid face. "If you're not at work, you're here."

"That easy to read, huh?"

"That easy," she smiled.

"Okay! Fair's fair. You found my secret hiding place, I guess I'm going to have to buy you lunch."

"Looks that way," Heart jokingly retorted.

Shifting the automatic gears into drive, Heart guided the vehicle through the cemetery. Wilson stared out the open window, silently saying goodbye to Elizabeth, watching her marker get smaller in his field of vision.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Heart interrupted his solace.

"No," Wilson replied without looking at her.

She guided the Explorer out of the entrance way and onto the adjoining main road. "You still feel guilty don't you?"

"I thought you asked me if I wanted to talk about it, and I said 'no'," he snapped as he turned in his seat towards her.

"I lied. I was only asking to be polite, but I didn't really care about your answer."

"I thought no meant no?"

"Yeah well, that's a common problem among males. Men don't realize that that phrase is reserved for women."

"Oh, who knew?" Wilson feigned surprise.

"You still feel guilty?" Heart asked a second time.

She was pressing the question, and if Wilson knew Heart, the only way to get out of it was to reply. Even though, at this time, Elizabeth was not a topic he wanted to share. "I have every reason to feel guilty, but at least now it is only every second minute of the day."

"And?" She beckoned him to continue.

"And what?" Wilson poorly played dumb.

She looked at him, her face telling him that she was not going to be conned.

Wilson resigned himself. "It just weighs on my shoulders, constantly dragging me down. I feel lost Heart. I'm lost in a world of what I could have done, what I should have done, what I didn't do. I miss her so much, every waking moment I miss her."

Listening, Heart flipped the lever so the signal light would warn other traffickers that she would be turning right at the upcoming T-intersection. After looking left for oncoming traffic she turned onto the main highway leading back into the city.

"You sound like you're apologizing because you miss her, Wilson? She was your wife, and you have every right," Heart consoled.

"But," he paused to find his thoughts. "I don't know. It's been three years! Shouldn't I maybe be letting go a little bit?"

"She was your wife!" Heart stated sharply. "Who said you were supposed to be getting over it? Elizabeth was murdered in your own house, in front of you, and I'm glad that you're not so cold as to just get over it."

She was right, and Wilson had known it all along, but he found it was comforting to have someone understand his pain.

"It tires me, Heart. Sometimes I wish the constant emotion would go away, if only for an hour. If I could only have a moment to catch my breath," he paused to suppress the tears he felt beckoning for release. "Just catch my breath, and then I'd be able to face it again."

"I could help you with that?"

"No!" Wilson denied abruptly. He held up his hand as if to push her back.

"Okay, Wilson, calm down," she placed her hand on his and rested the combination of intertwined fingers on his left leg. "I meant as a friend, by talking to each other."

"I'm sorry," Wilson apologized, trying to regain his composure. "I thought you meant, that you meant you'd help me forget, stop feeling."

Frustrated with herself for her callous choice of words she realized Wilson thought she was offering to use her inborn ability to manipulate other people's emotions. "God, no! I would never dare. Wilson, I didn't mean it that way," she brought the Ford Explorer to a complete stop as a pair of red lights glared down from the intersection they had arrived at. "I'm your friend; at least I hope I am. I just want you to know that I'm here for you." The light turned green and she reasserted herself to focus on the road, accelerating gently.

"I overreacted and I apologize. I'm so tense with everything. I do consider you my friend, you know that, and don't ever doubt it either. I know what you're trying to do, and I appreciate it."

"Well, I'm glad that's settled," Heart gave him a quick flash of a smile.

"Does this mean you're still letting me buy you lunch?" Wilson joked, alleviating the mood for a moment.

"Yup!" Was her pleasant and quick reply. "You need an afternoon off, and what a better way?"

"Is that on doctor's orders?"

"Doctor's orders," Heart scanned both sides of the avenue they were patrolling. "Now if I could just find a place to park this son of a bitch!"

An icy chill ran the course of Mandy's spine. Goose pimples erupted without warning on her arms, her legs, and her whole body was wracked with the shivers. She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself against the cold numbness that was washing over her.

What on earth had compelled, no driven, her to come to her brother's room? Mandy felt lost, confused, and totally alone. The nightmares she had been suffering lately had left her in a constant state of fear. Something about being in this room, her missing brother's room, helped escalate that emotion.

"Get a grip, would you?" She whispered to herself. Her brother's bed creaked under her weight as she seated herself on its edge, dropping her face into cupped hands.

The reason she was here, in this room, shivering against the fear of her nightmares stuck to the tip of her tongue like some ridiculous Trivial Pursuit question. Mandy shook her head to clear her thoughts. "I hate that fucking game." Besides, she knew there was more at stake here than being rewarded a plastic piece of coloured pie.

Uncomfortable on the bed, Mandy began pacing back and forth across the room. She felt everything all at once; a mixing bowl of emotions, but there was nobody to turn to for help. The house was empty except for Mandy herself. Her parents were off in the middle of their eight-week holiday celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. There was her off again, on again, off again boyfriend. "Yeah, right!" Mandy objected that thought out loud. She knew from experience that his idea of consoling Mandy was to drive, and thrust her worries away with a romp in the sheets, and a couple of minutes of emotionless sex. "No thank-you, not anymore or ever again."

Her parents were away, her (ex) boyfriend was out of the question, but Mandy yearned for someone, anyone, to point her in the right direction. There was only her brother, staring back at her from the night-side table in his graduation robes. Mandy snatched the picture from its perch and screamed into it. "What do you want from me?" She shook the picture in its frame, trying to wake her brother up. "What? What? I'm right here! What is it?"

Her frustration exploded and Mandy hurled the picture across the room. The glass cracked upon impact with the farthest wall.

Crumpling to the carpeted floor in an ocean full of tears, heaving and sobbing, for Mandy there was only one explanation for what she was experiencing. "I'm going crazy."

Lying fetally on the shag carpet, Mandy wailed into the hollowness of her brother's room, and tears rolled down as she chanted to herself under her breath, eyes wide and staring at nothing. "I'm going crazy. I'm going crazy. I'm going...crazy...crazy...crazy..."

The umbrella helped mask the blistering sun from their table on the restaurant's patio. The morning had disappeared and afternoon was running its course full speed. The young waiter brought two cups of coffee to help a couple of his patrons relax after a light lunch of salads and sandwiches.

"Will there be anything else?" The lanky, young freckle face inquired after placing the two cups in front of Wilson and Heart.

"No, thank-you," Wilson responded as the waiter hurriedly cleared any unnecessary items from their table.

Heart generously added sugar to her cup, and then delicately poured in some cream from the tiny container, the black liquid turned into a dark brown.

"I could have ordered you a bowl of sugar if you wanted me to," Wilson remarked playfully.

"Piss off!" She retorted and added more of the sweetener just to make a point.

Leaning back in his chair to bask in the warmth of the afternoon, Wilson said. "Thank you!"

"For what?" Heart asked, mildly confused, as she lifted her cup to her lips.

"For this afternoon, for lunch," he answered sincerely.

"Well don't thank me, you're still paying."

"No. I mean it. I really needed the down time."

"From the business or the pleasure?"

"What pleasure?" Wilson smiled half-heartedly.

Heart returned his cynical smile with a nod of understanding. Resting her coffee cup back on the patio table she continued the conversation. "How's your arm?"

"Better! I can move it freely now," and he did, bending it back and forth to show her. Thankfully, it had not been broken and he had only suffered a sprain.

"From the looks of you that night I was expecting you would be in worse shape for longer."

"After the magic that Kalide is able to perform in the medical bay they mostly seem like superficial wounds now," Wilson stated even though his back irritated him day and night with a dull ache, and his ribs, well, they only caused him pain when he breathed. He shifted his gaze around the restaurant's patio pretending he was looking for someone, but making sure the other lunch time patrons were out of earshot and in no position to eavesdrop on their conversation. He leaned in closer to the table, closing the distance between Heart and himself. "Has there been any change in Squire's condition? Business has kept me from the infirmary the past couple of days."

Heart looked over her shoulder also, out of force of habit, surveying the privacy of their surroundings. "He seems to be following the road to recovery fine, physically, but now we have to wait and see if he'll break out of this trauma state," she allowed herself a moment to brush the hair from her eye that the day's breeze insisted on tormenting her with. "He's awake, lying there with eyes wide open, but nobody's home."

"Do you have any idea when he might be coherent enough to talk? The other one, Plaza, doesn't seem to know much and I'm positive that David's disappearance is linked to that monstrosity we encountered the other night."

"Beats me?" Heart shrugged her shoulders. Her face told him not to keep his fingers crossed on the near future. "Kalide hasn't been able to say for sure, and if he's at a loss..."

"I understand," Wilson said as he attended to his own coffee. "But I need to talk to them both, there was something about Kriegen." His thoughts drifted.

"What about him?"

"I don't know. Something familiar?"

"Kalide is doing everything he can for Squire."

"I know. I hate sitting on this though. Christ, who knows what could be happening to David? Kalide hasn't even been able to get a reading on his vital stats. Without Squire we have no hope of ever finding him."

Perching her elbows on the table, Heart leaned in close, preparing her attempt to move their conversation in a different direction. "Question?"

"Answer!"

"At the cemetery..."

"Oh no!" Shaking his head, Wilson cut her off. "We are not going down that road again. I was just starting to forget how depressed I felt this morning."

"Wait, just listen to me a second," she tried to coerce him.

"If I start talking about it I'm going to start feeling sorry for myself again, and you said none of that kind of stuff was allowed today, remember?"

"I lied, you're allowed," she smiled.

She was persuasive in her innocent way, Wilson admitted to himself. "You do that often don't you?"

"What?"

"Lie!" He said teasingly.

"Only to you."

"Well then, it must be okay," they both shared a short laugh.

"Seriously though," she tried to bring the focus back to what she wanted to ask.

"Seriously?"

"Serious, Wilson, this is important."

"Why is it important?" Wilson interrogated, enjoying himself. His side stepping was beginning to play on her nerves, but the devil in him was having fun getting a rise out of her.

"It's important," Heart delivered a fake scowl to try and get him to behave. "Because I want to know."

"You're going to have to do better than that. It's really none of your business, and if I don't want to talk about it your enquiring mind is out of luck."

"It is my business."

"How?"

"Because I watch you every day. I see your past eating at you from the inside. I know how much you loved her, Elizabeth," Heart used her name, wanting to be sincere to Wilson even though she had never met his wife. "But why the guilt?"

Wilson tensed. The guilt, the undying guilt, if he told her would she understand? Or would she think less of him, and begin to see him, as he saw himself every time his reflection looked back at him from a mirror with such utter disgust?

"Holly..." Heart's eyebrows rose and she tried to mask her sudden surprise. Holly was her real name and Wilson had never, ever, called her by anything but her call-sign. First time for everything! "...I watched her die, in our own house, right in front of me." The memory came back into full view. "I didn't do anything."

"But why..."

"Why was I a coward?" Wilson finished what he believed was her next thought. It was always his.

"No, that wasn't what I was going to say. Don't go putting words in my mouth, mister!" She scrounged for a more delicate way to deliver her words. "Excuse me, Wilson, if this doesn't come out right, but with your abilities, how was it that you were taken by surprise?"

"Because at that time in my life, I was a coward," he shuddered at his shame.

Heart reached across the table and placed her hand on his, a small reminder that she was still there as a friend, unconditionally. "I'm not judging, I just thought it might help to talk."

"It's a long story," he said trying to sway her interest. He did not want to talk about it, to have to force his self to relive his ultimate failure; the failure that greeted him every morning from the empty side of the bed.

"There is still lots of sun left, a whole afternoon ahead of us," she urged him to continue, to trust her. "I'm a patient girl."

"It's persistent, not patient," Wilson corrected her.

"Will you please stop making light of this. Where did I find you today?" She didn't give him room to answer. "At the cemetery and where were you yesterday? The day before? Talk to me Wilson, trust me."

"I think that over the past year I've proven that I trust you."

"Time and again," she assured him.

He breathed in deeply, weighing his options. "I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't"

"You need to get this off your chest. Talking to someone is the only way to give yourself some peace, and put your guilt to rest," she was aggravated with his stubbornness.

"I don't want to put it to rest! I don't deserve the peace!" Wilson's voice escaped the vicinity of their table as he raised himself abruptly from his seat. The chair whined as it was forced back along the concrete.

"Yes you do, for Christ's sake!" Heart looked up at him. "Yes you do." Trying to reach him.

His final statement shocked her into a numb silence. "No!"

Heart was left sitting alone with a view of his back, retreating from the restaurant, walking out on her.

Cradled on the floor in her brother's room, Mandy had resorted to a steady, rhythmic rocking. The tears of frustration had dried up leaving her eyes puffy and her nostrils sorely red. She had found no conclusions in the past hour and still struggled with the mystery of her nightmares. A slight hum emitted from her in synchronicity with the steady rocking, as if she had reverted to a childlike state, singing herself to sleep.

The poster of a mountain climber, dangling from his fingertips off of some rocky shelf, stared down at her. One word stretched across the bottom of the thin, glossy paper "COURAGE!"

Mandy's eyes inspected every detail of the picture of the adventurous mountain man.

The rocking stopped. The humming stopped. Silence returned to be her only companion in the empty house.

"I'm right here," Mandy whispered to her long lost brother.

She was not going crazy, Mandy understood that now, but she was bringing herself to a level clear of thought. Focusing on her brother she let her nightmares slither out from her subconscious. Something was hidden in them, something to do with her brother and his best friend, and how they had both disappeared on one of their traditional hiking trips.

The closet door flung open and Mandy rummaged carelessly through her brother's things. Items that her mother had refused to get rid of, she would throw a fit to see Mandy manhandling them like this, insisting that one day he might return. She threw camping gear over her shoulder, and pulled clothes off of their hangers. Grabbing one of the many sweaters she pressed her face into it.

Standing bolt upright in the middle of the room, adorned in her sleeping attire of panties and a T-shirt, tears of joy and lost frustration streamed down Mandy's cheeks. She called out to her brother, "Brian!"

Retrieving the broken picture from the floor she begged her sibling, who could not hear her, for forgiveness. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. I didn't know! I was so scared, I didn't know."

Mandy let the picture fall from her hands and ran from his room. "Oh my God, Brian!" Her voice rang throughout the house.

The picture, the poster, his clothes, his room, the nightmares that had drawn her there, it all led her back to one night; the one night, a couple days ago, where she had seen her brother. Mandy had been plagued with the knowledge that she was missing something. She had seen something, someone, but had been unable to remember who or what. The utter fear she had experienced that night had pushed the details from her mind, but now it was all flowing back.

It had been him, Mandy was positive. Crumpled on the hood of her car, barely alive, coated in dirt, grime, and blood it had been him.

Her brother, Mandy's only sibling, who had been missing.

Running down the second floor hall that led back to her room, Mandy stopped. Her back braced up against the wall, her eyes pressed shut, she visualized him. He was lying unconscious on the hood of her car, only inches away. On that night, that horrible night, her brother had looked so strange, unrecognizable, and Mandy had failed to identify him, she had realized too late. Now he was gone again, ripped from her life as quickly as he had reappeared.

"Brian!" Her hopelessness screamed at a deaf house.
CHAPTER EIGHT

The putrid breath that belonged to Kriegen wafted into David's ear. "Beg!"

"Never," David defied.

Five digits, protruding from the grotesque, muscle wrapped arm, found their perch around David's throat. The skin covering the twisted hand felt like coarse leather as it pressed into David, choking him, and restricting the blood flow to his head.

"You will succumb! Your feeble mind will break," Kriegen prophesized as he squeezed David's throat some more, threatening to dismantle the windpipe.

"Try...as hard...ugh...as...you like," David gasped and coughed out the words with what tiny breaths he could muster. "You...can't...kill...me!"

Kriegen leaned in, exerting more pressure on the confined throat. David's head was forced back with no escape, squishing into the metal border of his crucifix. His wild eyes blurred and fought to keep contact with Kriegen's.

"I'll...come." He wheezed and gurgled his struggle to stay conscious. "...Back. I'll...always...return...to haunt...you!"

Kriegen released his manacle grip. David's head slumped forward, gagging and coughing for air to fill his raw lungs.

"You will bow down to the Liegelord, you will."

"No!" David lifted his head to stare Kriegen down. Somewhere deep inside David found the energy to smile defiantly, but how much more could he, would he really be able to, endure?

Through the returned memories of his father and brother he found the hate. With the memory of the sorrow painted across Poison's face after that night he had opened up to her, and then left her alone, he focused the anger. These were the only two emotions he had to drive him. The only things left for him to hang onto, to give David the strength to endure. "I promised you, Kriegen, that when I am free, I will kill you!"

With every iota of strength that rippled throughout the oversized muscles of his arms, Kriegen shot a left, then a right, and another right fist squarely into David's face.

His nose shattered with the first blow, the left cheekbone cracked and fractured with the second, and the third numbing strike tempted the right eye to release from its socket. His brain rattled in the captivity of his skull and David found he did not have the coherency, the strength, the will, to even cry out in pain.

More blows came, one after another, following in painful sequences. Kreigen was a sculptor working with the clay that was David's face. Blood dribbled from the lacerations and the left eye fused shut from the instant swelling. In the same moments David's shattered nose metamorphosed into a gooey mess. Slowly, every strike added new definition, David's features disappeared and his body was crowned with a Halloween mask of drooping, swaying flesh.

"Can you not comprehend?" Kreigen yelled between devastating blows. "Liegelord promised you hell!" Wet, cracking noises reverberated throughout the room to accompany the next round of shape changing pummels. "This is your fiery domain, your final resting place, where your soul will languish for as long as we deem an eternity to be."

Inside the rocky formation was a labyrinth of tunnels and halls, criss-crossing and interconnecting to form an almost indecipherable maze. The Liegelord's fortress was a mix between a time displaced medieval arena, and a futuristic masterpiece. The tunnels snaking through the bowels of the mountain mostly held the association's serfdom, the peasantry. Down there the halls were dark, barely illuminated by torchlight that shimmered off the rock that formed the walls. Outlining the other areas were steel walls. Crisp, clean, and sterile, with lights placed halfway up and along the ceilings to allow for clear direction.

It was the perfect place for the Liegelord to bide his time and plan his domination. The lone peak had never been compromised, never been under suspicion. The hunters, rogue knights in their twisted shadow forms, kept any weary or misdirected travellers from coming to close. The technology created, stolen, however obtained, that was at the Liegelord's command allowed for complete secrecy. They were invisible in their mountain refuge, a society thriving unbeknownst to the outside world. Completely cloaked, no radar, no satellite, no ridiculous piece of sensory equipment his adversaries may have devised could penetrate his fortress' mask.

The Liegelord and his entourage of vassals were completely hidden, as far as the outside world was aware they didn't even exist. They would know, the whole world would be enlightened when, and only when, he himself decided it was time to paint their concrete pathways in the deep red of the unfaithful's blood. The ones that did not bow down before his crushing heel.

The benign form of claustrophobia irritated the Hunter more than anything else. It was an itch in the small of the back that was just out of scratching reach. There was no shadow to accompany him, it, as it strode gracefully through the torch lit bowels of the fortress. The Hunter stopped, leaning against the damp, rock wall where condensation had given a glimmering shine in the torchlight. The Hunters lived, and generally remained, outside the confines of the mountain and served as a form of border patrol. The small pack only answered to the Liegelord, and then it was when they felt it suited their own needs. The Liegelord had summoned them, and this one had come in response. They had to appease their Liege sometimes, a sign of their faith.

The Hunter panted, its senses needing a moment to assimilate with the confined surroundings. It was used to the open wilderness. The Hunter's ruby red eyes glared back at the secret passage it had recently used to gain entrance to the "impenetrable" fortress. The Hunter tilted its head backward in an odd jerking motion, exposing its nostrils to better catch the scents that spiced the air. The red of its eye vanished, and then appeared again in a blink. Deciphering the array of smells being dragged up its nostrils it locked onto the targeted scent. It moved, silently drifting through the tunnels, tracking.

Liegelord felt the dark presence enter the room, but refused to turn and acknowledge the arrival. The leash that he kept the Hunters on was very thin, but he was sure to make it clear that metaphorically, they were the ones wearing the collars.

"You summoned for my presence?" The Hunter said from just inside the doorway of Liegelord's quarters. The game of master and servant had begun. Liegelord reminded the Hunter of his control by waiting to be addressed properly, and the Hunter strutted its independence by not doing so immediately. The Hunter crouched and growled deeply under its breath, taking stock of its chances if it were to attack. The Hunter thought better of it and resigned itself to the will of the master. "You summoned for my presence, Lord?"

"Yes," Liegelord answered with the royal blue cloak that draped his back staring at the guest. "A couple of sheep have strayed from the pasture, and Kriegen proved to be a lousy shepherd." Liegelord turned, finally, to face the lithe, shadowed form. "One is Plaza; the other is Squire, imbeciles who had the audacity to leave my care!"

The Hunter listened.

"They know too much, especially the Squire, and I want them silenced before they learn how to speak. If you have to kill them I will not mourn their passing, but I would prefer it if you would bring them back with blood still pumping through their faithless hearts and breath still caught in their runaway lungs. I would like the opportunity to express my displeasure when serfs estrange themselves from the sanctity of my kingdom. Squire is the most important one, my main concern. Do you understand my needs? Can you fulfil the task?"

"Yes, Lord."

"I'm giving you free reign on this hunt. Kill anything, anyone, who my two wandering dogs have been in contact with."

"With pleasure," the Hunter snarled.

"Do not fail me as Kriegen did!" It was a demand, not a request.

The Hunter vanished into the shadowed halls. The chase had resumed, Liegelord smiled to his self. Whatever false sense of security the pair of deserters would have developed, by Kriegen leaving them to their own free will, would soon change. Their will was not their own to have. It belonged to Liegelord, and the Hunter would soon remind them of that forgotten piece of information. His head shook. The two runaways had taken so much for granted
CHAPTER NINE

The young boy's blood stained his mother's terry cloth, white robe. Mary cradled her dead son against her breast, rocking back and forth as if she was lulling him to sleep. Her tears streamed down her cheeks and washed onto the spots of red that had pot marked his innocent face. Half sitting, half kneeling, amidst the pool of blood on the kitchen floor, she silently begged to a god who rarely answered. A begging string of thoughts that melded together. "Dear Jesus, not my son, not my David. Please give him back. Please!"

After twenty years of abuse and degradation, Mary generally held acquaintance with only one type of emotion, fear. She felt love, unconditional love, for her children, even the wayward Joseph, but mostly she lived in fear. A tightrope of foreboding she walked every day for herself, for her children. She lived in fear of the man who now stood leaning with his back perched against the kitchen counter, laughing. He was laughing like some eight-year old school boy who had just peeked up a girl's skirt and won his first glance at a pair of panties. Laughing while her youngest child's gaping neck spewed blood and gurgled popping noises from his throat. Laughing like the devil while she searched for a spark of life in her son's open, glossy eyes.

For the first time in twenty years, Mary Michaels felt a new sensation burn in the heart that pumped inside her chest. Anger formed, and from there a stray ember ignited into a flame. It burned with hatred.

"You son of a bitch!" Still cradling David, she looked up at her murdering husband, her sudden outburst silencing his mocking laugh. "You fucking son of a bitch!" After twenty years of suppression the new sensation in her heart broke from her like a fallen dam. "You murdering fuck, can't you see what you have done? You killed my son! You took away my David."

"Silence!" Her husband shook in disbelief at her outburst, raising the flat of his hand over his shoulder to signal the oncoming slap if she did not obey.

"Or what?" The mother who now had one less child to kiss goodnight spat. "What? What will you do? What will you do? Kill Stephanie next? Kill me? For Christ's sake, don't make promises you won't keep. Empty threats! Do you think I care what you do now that David...now that David..." She pulled David closer to her, any tighter and the small boy would have been crushed in her arms. "That slab of limp muscle between your legs doesn't have enough balls to get me that excited."

"I'm warning you, you lousy bitch, one more..."

"What? Do you have something to show me, is that it? I've seen enough thank-you. I've seen enough!"

The slap made her head spin like a merry-go-round and for an instant the fire left her eyes as she realized David had slipped from her grasp. A foot smacked into her, driving Mary down into the blood coated linoleum. Her sudden outrage was doused when the back of her head splash-smacked against the unforgiving floor. Mary slid through the pool of wetness, grasping for her son, her David. She searched desperately for the limp body as stars danced behind her eyes, temporarily impairing her vision.

Adam clicked his tongue in disgust. It didn't matter anymore that he was late for work, the stupid bitch had fucked up his day from the very get go. What a mess his family had become.

If this morning's charade proved anything it was that this useless woman he had picked for a wife was unfit to raise children. He was definitely going to need to spend more time at home to instil some order in this God forsaken place.

"Get up, Mary," he ordered. "This place is a God damn mess! Clean up and then go wash yourself, you fucking stink. I'm embarrassed and appalled that you walk around looking like that. Don't you have any self-respect?"

Dumbfounded, Mary froze. She had suffered at the hands of this man for so long she had come to believe that she had felt, heard, seen everything, but this proved that he was crazy. Her husband, the one she was supposed to love, honour, and if you could fucking believe it-obey, was definitely keeping residence in his own little world.

"You just killed your son! You're telling me..." she managed to bring herself up to her knees, the blackness behind her eyes from introducing her head to the floor was finally clearing, and tried to comprehend his words. "You just murdered your son." She tried to remind him because obviously, somehow, maybe he didn't realize, didn't know. Mary groped around the floor for David. Her hands glided through the blood on the slick linoleum as if it had been newly waxed. David had been right beside her, right beside her when she was kicked?

"One less brat of a mouth to feed, right boy?"

She looked up at her husband, and her face experienced an immediate make over into an expression of horror. David had been beside her, but now he dangled from his father's outstretched arm. David's chin rested against his darkly stained chest like a marionette without strings. Adam clutched his dead son by the nape of the neck, jiggling him back and forth, as if he thought the boy was sleeping and needed some forceful coercion to wake up.

"Right, boy?" Adam repeated. Jiggle-jiggle-shake. "Yup! One less mouth."

"Just give him back," Mary begged from her cradle of blood. Her empty arms felt hollow without her son, the innocent child who spent nine months in her womb, the hungry mouth she had nourished from her own breast-its only lifeline, the crying baby who she had rocked to sleep night after night, her baby, her son, her David. David who came to her rescue, charging across the kitchen to save her, and because she had screamed he was dead. Because she had been afraid her baby was dead. Because she had shared a bed with the Devil himself, David was dead. An intermingled array of switchboard emotions coursed through her. Anger melded with sorrow, greased by hate, weighed down by guilt, filled with desperation.

As if he was reading her mind, Adam rambled on. "You killed me mommy." He motioned the body with his hand, directing the head to pretend the dead could still talk, using a child's high-pitched tone. "You killed me mommy. One less mouth." And threw his head back laughing.

"Let him go you bastard!" Mary wailed at the top of her lungs. She scrambled across the floor and clutched at her husband's right leg for leverage, pulling herself up. "Give me back my son."

His free hand smacked her down to the awaiting floor. The laughter was replaced with revulsion. "Get off me, you ugly cow. Don't ever touch me again!" He spit down on her. "You're unfit to be a mother. I did the boy a favour."

From a hidden reserve new tears welled in her eyes. It was useless. All hope drained from her battered soul, and Mary's moment of defiance skulked away in bitter defeat. The only thing she had wanted, needed, was to hold her David one last time, to feel the warmth of his skin, run her fingers through the softness of his hair. The cold linoleum and coagulating blood were the only things her hands touched; David was lost to her. Adam was right. In his insanity he had hit it dead on. She was unfit.

The boy's eyes popped open. The haze of death blinding David's vision as the empty orbs glared down towards an unseen mother. His head lurched from side to side. The chin dragged against his chest, back and forth, side to side, a little jiggle and a little shake.

"Did the boy one big favour!" Adam continued to insist.

"David?" Mary gasped in shock under her breath. The impossible jumped in her heart, and then just as quickly dropped away. The eyes held no spirit.

She looked away. The empty stare of her son held the truth to her eternal denial. Horror beckoned her not to look, there was nothing there. She craned her neck as far as it would go, pulling the skin taught. There was nothing to be found in David's lifeless eyes, nothing! But...under the...table?

"What did you say?" Mary heard Adam question in a form of disbelief.

"Nothing," she thought to herself. "You're so damn crazy you're hearing voices." Mary didn't care. She wanted the knife, the knife that her bastard husband must have thrown away, the knife that sliced David's throat open. The knife that was right there, all along, under the kitchen table. Mary began to crawl towards the killing instrument.

This wasn't over!

"What did you say?" He asked again.

Did he have so much control over her that he could hear her thoughts? "I said this wasn't over, you son of a bitch!" Mary spoke to herself, ignoring him. "God, please...PLEASE don't let him see the knife." She was almost there. Flat on her belly, reaching, so she didn't startle her husband by knocking a chair. Her right hand shook with fear, hate, and determination. Only inches away.

"You're not my Daddy."

Mary froze.

The voice was raspy, barely a soft echo that reverberated through the marrow of her shock frozen bones.

"You're not my Daddy at all."

She slowly turned, the knife a forgotten memory, disbelief painting her face.

"And my name is David!"

For the first time in his domineering life, David's father was silent. He held the boy at arm's length, staring at, inspecting the small neck where the knife had created a fictitious grin across the pink skin. Now there was nothing. The cut, that perfect parting of flesh had disappeared. The parted neck was whole again, unchanged, not even a wisp of a scar to prove his greatest abuse. What was only a moment ago a rag doll, dead weight, now breathed. The boy, punished into an eternal silence, had spoken. The dead had arisen, and fear flowed out of the son into the heart of the father.

Grunting in a horror-stricken shock of disbelief, Adam hurled his son across the room, flinging the boy away as if the touch had burned him.

God had answered her prayers for the second time in her twenty years of marriage. A mixed scream of joy, elation, astonishment, and emotional agony vibrated from Mary's vocal chords as she saw her son, her David, miraculously alive.

"What in the name of God?" Adam yelled with frustration, spurning, as David landed on the other side of the kitchen with a thud. "How in the name of God?"

"God didn't have room for any more little boys," the words floated from David's mouth in a whisper. His throat tingled with an itch, but the pain of crash landing into the kitchen cupboards was already gone.

Frozen. Half hidden under the table, Mary's head floated in a whirlwind of awe and rejection, fighting to hold onto the sudden reality.

David was alive.

Her hand, which had been suspended in mid-air by the invisible wires of shock, dropped to the floor.

God had answered her prayer.

Her fingers rested on the handle of the murderous knife. It was a miracle, but David was alive.

Her fingers circled around the forgotten utensil.

God was with her. Any fear that was left in her abused body washed from her like mountain snow under a spring sun.

Her grip tightened around the knife's wooden handle, pulling it close.

God had finally answered her prayers.

The bastard before her was never going to hurt one of her children ever again.

"You little heretic!" Adam spat down at David. "You little abomination! How dare you lie to me? How dare you play tricks on me? You were dead; you little piece of shit, dead! Nobody mocks me, nobody! You don't play games with me and think you can get away with it." Adam ranted and quaked. "I'll show you games." His face flushed and his fists were balled, but he didn't move towards David. The words flew from his mouth in a runaway train, but he was held still. Fear of the boy echoed in his mind.

"My name is David," was all that was returned to the barrage of threats and insults. His father's words had lost their power.

"You're talking back to me? ME?" Adam shook in a rage that masked the fact that for the first time in his entire life he was scared. "Get over here, boy!"

"Come and get me."

"Get the fuck over here!" This was nuts! He had never been so blatantly disobeyed. The control over his family was slipping through his fingers.

"No!" Mary yelled a long-winded command. She was instantly scrambling to her feet. Standing in front of her husband, Mary held the knife shakily between both of her hands, aimed like an arrow, straight towards Adam's chest. "No."

"Jesus Christ, you crazy bitch!" The hostage husband shouted in surprise. "What are you doing? Get away from me with that thing." He swung his arm to swat her aside, but the tip of the blade lashed out and sunk an inch deep into his forearm.

"Christ!" Adam yelped, snapping his arm back.

"No!" Mary stated again. It seemed to be the only word that she could push out from behind the sea of red that filled her mind. She didn't want to hurt anymore; she wanted blood, his blood. She couldn't bear to watch her children live in this agonizing world one more second. Killing him, her husband, was the only escape from the madness.

The hurting.

She wanted to see his veins snap, it was his turn to feel the pain.

Adam was scared. He had known his wife was crazy for years now, but this, all of this today, proved that she was certifiably insane. He backed away from her wild glare while still trying to maintain his position. This was his domain. He was still the master. "I'm trying to talk to my boy. Now get that thing out of my face, or I swear to God..."

"He isn't listening to you," David piped up from his secluded spot on the floor.

"Shut-up! Shut-up, you lying puke! Shut-the-fuck-up!"

The knife swung past his face, barely missing. "I'll kill you," Mary said as she attempted another strike at her husband, swinging the knife wildly, forcing him back.

"Crazy cunt!" Adam shrieked, evading each passing of the blade.

"Mom," David called to her.

Finally she connected, struck gold, and the knife drew a scarlet seam across his upper left arm.

"Jesus Mary, please!" Adam begged as he clasped his right hand over the fresh wound. "Stop, please."

"You're not going to hurt us anymore," she hissed, still swinging.

"No! Please, I'm sorry. Put the knife down, I'm sorry," he continued a rampant string of pleas. He saw the emptiness of her eyes and read the fury contorted on her face.

"Mom stop!" Drawing her out of her murderous fugue, David's chorus of a voice sang in her ears.

She looked at her son.

"You don't have to do it, Mom," David reasoned with her, reached out to her. "Da..." He bit down on the name. The man in the kitchen wasn't his father, not anymore or ever, and he refused to call him by that title. "He isn't going to hurt us anymore, are you?" The words came from the un-dead boy solid as stone, unwavering. It was a demand, a command, not a question.

"Hell no, no!" Adam said.

"You are going to leave, right now! And never come back."

The dumb bitch had dropped the knife and given him the opportunity to resume control. Who the fuck did this little shit think he was talking to anyway? Hell in a God damn pair of Underoos. "The hell I am. This is my God damn house!"

"It's over. It all ends today. You will leave, and never come back, ever!" David ordered.

"This is my house!" He screamed.

"Not anymore," David retorted bluntly. "You can't hurt me anymore. You won't hurt me anymore. Or Stephanie, or Mom."

The truth? He had killed the little bastard, Adam knew he had, but now the boy was giving him orders, giving him ultimatums. They had all turned on him, every single one of his family had turned on him. Deceived, lied, and betrayed him, after everything he had done! After the years spent supporting them, keeping a roof over their heads, and loving them with his every breath. They had all suddenly turned their backs, an ungrateful slap in the face, a full 180 degrees of betrayal.

A crazy wife, uncontrollable children, it wasn't worth it anymore. They didn't deserve to drink the sweat and tears he had poured from his labours.

"Fine!" Adam declared. "I'm leaving. You are on your own. Do you understand? Do you know what that means? I'm cutting all the ties. This whole fucked up family is on its own." He turned his attention on David. "You think you're so smart, boy? You don't know what it takes, you have no idea, but I'll be laughing when you find out. I'll be laughing my ass off when you fail, and come back to me begging. Such a fucking smart boy!"

"Leave," David ignored the sermon.

In a single morning everything had changed, flipped over and inside out. Roles reversed, and for the first time father obeyed son. Defeated, betrayed, the abject husband slipped past his wife to make his leave. He held his chin up and acted as if he didn't care. This was his decision, and the mere sight of his unfaithful wife made him want to puke.

"You always were a lousy bitch," he verbally stung her in a half whisper as he slithered by. "You're lucky I loved you for as long as I did. Nobody is going to want a used up loose cunt like you."

"Get out," she said, and a glob of saliva left her lips and found residence on his right cheek. A final kiss goodbye.

The front door was slammed so hard after he left that the walls of the house shook. Pictures swung on their precarious nails and the plates rattled in the confines of the cupboards. Mary's shoulders dropped in a deep sigh, finally releasing the breath she was involuntarily holding captive.

"It's over," David stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh, my son," his mother began to cry. "My brave little David. How?" She glided over to him. Tears ran down her cheeks in a flash flood. "Thank-you. Thank-you." She repeated over and over while cradling him, running her fingers through his blood matted hair, kissing him. "Thank-you God. Thank-you for bringing back my son. Thank-you. Thank-you. Thank-you. My sweet angel, thank-you." She rambled, choking words into David's ear like she believed that was where God had been hiding all this time. "He's gone and we don't have to be scared anymore." She squeezed her son. "Just us, It's just us now, you, me and Stephanie."

David was up on his feet, pushing her away.

"What? What is it David?" She sounded hurt that he broke from her hug.

"Stephanie!"

"Oh! Sweet Jesus, Joseph!"

David ran across the kitchen, slipped on the linoleum greased with his own blood, and went crashing into the door that led to the back of the house; the same door that Stephanie had been dragged out of screaming.

He ignored the tingling, burning sensation that ran in a seam across his small neck. Focusing on the memory of his big sister's screams that rang in his head like a choir of church bells. Mom and his self exorcised Satan from the house and during it all had forgotten about Stephanie. Stephanie and the Devil's underling. This had been the second time he had failed his big sister, but no more, never again, never, ever again. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore. Right!

He ran in his bare feet. The pebbles making up the walkway bit at the tender flesh between the heel and toes. That wasn't the pain though. The pain was Stephanie's voice still clanging in his head, banging away the same two words.

Never again!

Never again!

And it was still happening.

Joseph, no longer his brother just as Adam was no longer considered his father, had taken Stephanie outside to teach her some respect. Well, David had something to show Joseph himself. Joseph was going to learn that it was over. From now on it was only going to be the three of them: Stephanie, Mom, and his self. No more Adam, no more Joseph, no more sugar, and no more show and keep quiet.

Never again!

At any cost.

"Stephanie," David called with his hands cupped around his mouth.

There was no answer.

Where were they?

Where would Joseph have taken her?

David's heart clenched like a fist around raw meat. There was only one place? The garage! Joseph's sanctuary.

When their father was gone the garage was where Joseph wasted away many of his hours, hiding and waiting. Joseph was an expert at following in his father's footsteps, but he wasn't brave, and he wasn't stupid. He stayed away from the house as much as he could because he knew he wasn't experienced enough to contend with all three of them, his mother and two siblings, alone. He had tried before, but Joseph did not have the guts to push around their mother. Stephanie and David, when united, proved to be a common force against Joseph. It was when they were separated, that Joseph seized his opportunity to pretend he was the king of hell. Joseph utilized that opportunity mostly at night with David. He had a sweet tooth and he considered David to be the sugar that satisfied that particular craving. When their mother declared that it was bedtime, David's nightmares began. They knew, the whole family knew, but just as long as Joseph did not bother Stephanie in that way it was okay with their father. It must have been, because he never did anything to stop it. Underneath sheets, behind closed doors, and through muffled whimpers, unconditional love held an unusual definition in the Michaels' household.

On mornings like today, Joseph was able to bask in the heat of his father's fury, but he knew his place. The house was Dad's personal hell to rule. The garage was where Joseph had invented purgatory. David had been there once, only once, to call Joseph in for dinner and that was the last time he had ever gone within shouting distance of the lair.

As his fingers slowly wrapped themselves around the brass doorknob, David's hand shook with the memory of his last visit inside the purgatory garage. It was not locked and easily swung into the confines of the four walls. David's free hand instantly covered his mouth to hold back the bitter bile that quaked in his stomach. He could not believe the sight before him.

The shadows hungrily prowled the radius of the room's single bulb, and that open, hanging bulb served as a spotlight, putting Stephanie on centre stage.

Her clothes were scattered across the concrete floor. Her naked body was painted in a collage of grease, grime, and dirty blood. Wet, gurgling noises coughed from her mouth as she lay there with her arms clutched around her stomach, and her knees drawn up to her chest as far as they would go.

David ran to her and began to shake her. "Stephanie! Stephanie! Get up!" He looked over his shoulder. The room was riddled with tools, work benches, an old sofa, and the skeleton of an old jalopy that Joseph had long ago given up on restoring.

But, where was his older brother?

"Steph, come on it's okay, Dad's gone," David's words quaked. She barely moaned. Whatever Joseph had done to her, with his ever evolving, endlessly twisted imagination, the pain she was suffering made her incoherent.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," David blubbered over and over while he dragged her limp, naked body across the concrete floor. He didn't want to hurt her, but it was the only way. He had to get her out before Joseph came.

"It's okay, Dad's gone and Mom's in the house. We'll just get in the house and then it'll be okay. Just the three of us. It's going to be okay, me, you and mom," he assured her between tears as he heaved and pulled her along the pebbled pathway.

Immature feet tangled in the dead weight of her body, and David found himself falling forward. He dropped Stephanie's arms and spun his own for balance, like a tightrope walker at the circus trying to elicit gasps from the onlookers below. David toppled forward, landing on top of his sister. A squelching noise erupted from her lips with a wave of new blood.

More tears streamed from David's eyes. He rolled off of his sister and pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry, Steph. We're almost there, almost there."

He tried to get up, but tripped over his hurried desperation. He was failing her again. David rested his head against her chest to feel her heart and catch his breath. He could make it. The house wasn't far, but it felt like miles. He wasn't going to let Stephanie down again.

Never again!

He would make it.

Lifting his head from her chest, David surveyed Stephanie's face. It was the epitome of beauty. Prettier than any angel David had ever seen pictures of. Joseph had tried to take that away with the cut on her lip, the purple and black coloured bruises on her cheek, the bleeding eye, torn ear, and motley display of lacerations. The strange emotion that had consumed him in the kitchen when he had gone against his father returned as he held onto Stephanie, stroking her tangled hair away from her angelic face. His panic over where Joseph was hiding melted away. David had grown up in undefined fear in year after year being afraid of his bastard brother. Holding Stephanie, David realized he wasn't scared anymore, he was angry.

The prince of darkness needed to be stopped. The same way they had cast out the devil.

"Joseph," David called and waited for his brother to emerge.

More wet gasps wheezed from Stephanie, stinging David's ears. "Fuck you Joseph!" David yelled as he rocked her back and forth. Where was he now, now that their father was gone, where was the coward? "Joseph?"

Holding his sister, all of David's trepidation had vanished. It was going to be just the three of them now and Joseph needed to learn that.

"Joseph!" David screamed. He tightened his hug around Stephanie. She was so hurt, in so much unnecessary pain, and it was all because of him. "Joseph!"

He filled his lungs with a prolonged inward breath. Kneeling in the morning sun with the body of his big sister cradled in his arms, David's eyes flitted about wildly. Full of rage, he released a scream of wanting hysteria into the faded morning; filled with condemnation, one name, "JOSEPH!"

Winterkill's chest heaved up and down with heavy breaths as he awakened from his death state. The memory of him holding his battered sister on the pathway flashed behind his eyes with the clarity of yesterday. A long, sorrowful wail erupted from the bottom of his heart, reverberating throughout the enclosed room where he was held captive.

"It hurts doesn't it?" It was that casket on gravel voice that belonged to the mastermind of his pain.

Hurts? Liegelord had no comprehension of how much it hurt.

The tortures he had been enduring, the experiments they had been performing, had unwarily unlocked the chambers of his mind. The memories, all of the piercing memories, he had suppressed or hidden deep inside were returning like a black storm cloud. All the years of abuse culminated on that fateful day. The day his father left, his brother vanished, and the three remaining members of the Michaels' household formed a bond. A pact that years later he had disregarded, and walked out on the two people who had held him throughout the never ending years of misery. It hurt? And David finally realized how his actions had betrayed Stephanie and his mother. It hurt more than any of this physical mutilation he was forced to suffer. He wailed, a rainfall of new found emotion, experiencing feelings that he had been denying himself for years.

"I truly am apologetic that we have to put you through all this," Liegelord feigned sympathy. "But until you give me what I want, I'm afraid the experiments are going to have to continue. You can put an end to the pain, undying one, but you continue to force my hand."

Shaking in his shackles Winterkill screamed. He was deaf to the Liegelord's words. His mind was trapped elsewhere.

Suppression.

The unmitigated horrors.

He always knew it had been bad, but never recalled the specifics, or rather had pushed them away from his memory; especially of that day.

And he remembered them being happy, trying to be, trying to live with themselves, trying to forget, or was it endure?

Things were different then. They were all so secretly terrified that Adam might return, but each one of them tried to put on a brave face, being strong for each other as they struggled with this new life. Because nobody wanted to sleep alone, most nights mother would make a camp out in the living room, and the three of them would lay awake half the night talking, silently wishing the bad memories away by laughing and dreaming of a lighter tomorrow.

It was in those long nights that they solidified their bond. Mom called them the Trinity, together always, strong together, safe together, and it was in their unity that they were happy; together they could keep the nightmares at bay.

And he remembered the things he would do when he was alone.

Whenever he was home alone, if his mother and Stephanie were out shopping or busy in the house, he would climb out onto the roof and rest under the sky. It also provided him a good vantage point to watch for when they were coming home, or if maybe somebody else was coming to pay a visit. He was always scared to be left alone but never admitted it. He always wanted to be brave for them.

And it seemed his mother had ignored the fact that on that one miserable morning his father had sliced open his neck and killed him, only to watch David be reborn. She had obviously kept it a secret from Stephanie also. He himself had pretty much come to believe that it mustn't have happened the way he originally remembered. The cut had probably been superficial, he had probably only been unconscious.

The truth came back to him because he had hated the rain. It ruined his escape outside when they were running away from the nightmares of the house, the coldness and the grey of the skies added to the depressed feelings, and one day perched on the roof it began to pour. Drenching his escapism, making him so angry that all he could do was wish it would stop. He had wished so hard, demanded it....and it did. The clouds moved away from the house and it rained everywhere, but around him, as if he was surrounded by an invisible bubble that pushed the clouds and rain away.

In his excitement, David had jumped up in surprise, that was when he slipped on the wet shingles, and gone sliding off the second story to the awaiting ground. When he landed he felt a wrist snap, and an elbow shatter, and as if it was a dry twig his right leg had twisted and bent with a crack beyond its breaking point. To add insult to injury the rain came pouring down over him again.

He lay there moaning, cursing his clumsiness, until white flashes of pain overrode his senses as his bones began snapping back into place. Within seconds he was standing with nothing physically wrong.

After that day, whenever he had moments alone he would experiment on himself by drinking a cleaning chemical from under the kitchen sink, or cutting himself with a knife, but never anything too serious, never to the point of death at least. The anticipation of the pain was the worst of it.

And then he went swimming. Their property had a private beach and they often went swimming in the ocean, but never alone, unsupervised, and one day David did. His mother and Stephanie had gone out, and he had been feeling cocky with his new found gifts, ignoring the rules he waded out into the water, straight into the waiting grasp of the undertow.

For the first time in a while he felt fear as exhaustion helped pull him under the surface, and the need for air forced his mouth open to catch a breath, only to take in a lungful of salty water. He was drowning, he was dying.

Sometime later he sputtered to life on the sandy beach. He had luckily gone swimming with the incoming tide and been washed back ashore. Sitting up and shaking sand from his hair, it was then he realized that he had died and come back to life, just like the day in the kitchen. The miracle had now happened a second time. He was numb with the realization he couldn't die. He quickly healed from any wound, and had come back to life after dying twice? Something was very wrong with him in a very right way.

But, everything he had become boiled down to one day.

Approximately one year after their father had left; Stephanie and David had gone on a drive

into the city with their mother. David was in a foul mood, and it was storming. Maybe it was in reaction to his feelings. The wind howled and blowing hail made the road treacherous. The shopping trip was abruptly cut short when some daredevil speedster in a sports car cut them off in a risky pass, cutting back in on his mother and nearly clipping her front bumper.

Hydroplaning, the car began sliding. David remembered his sister scream and his mother shouting to hold on. It all happened so fast. Everyone was yelling while the car veered toward the side of the road. The back end bounced off a tree, torpedoing the vehicle into a spin, the passenger side windows imploded, spraying them with chunks of glass as the car dangerously swirled over the rain sleeked road, bee-lining for the cliff on the other side. The accident was a whirlwind of blinding rain and hail and screeching noise as metal scraped against metal. The car hit the roadside barrier and flipped over. The metal rail that was meant to stop cars from going over the edge only served as a catalyst to flip them and send the vehicle tumbling into the ravine. They slid and bounced and rolled against trees and rocks that took their turns tearing the car apart piece by piece. The three of them were all unconscious long before the car, what was left of it, finally finished its descent.

It was not until later that they learned how Stephanie was found halfway up the hill by the rescue team.

David's body had begun to heal soon after the car laid to rest. The paramedics at the scene were amazed to find he had barely a scratch on him, chalking up his luck to the wonders of the seat belt. When he awoke in the hospital he was unsurprised to find himself unharmed. His mother and sister were not as lucky. They did not have his special gift. David spent two weeks at his loved ones bedsides watching them struggle out of their unstable, and in his mother's case critical, conditions. During those hours of watching and praying David felt, and finally came to truly understand what it was to love someone. He loved them so much, so much that he was unable to bear the thought of ever losing them. Of ever watching either one of them die. It was then that he realized how fragile they were, while he could live forever, and eventually lose the memory of how he was feeling right then. He couldn't bear to watch them in pain, the thought of them growing old, the thought of losing them. David had decided that it would be better to disassociate himself than to ever have to face being truly alone. He kissed his sister on the brow above her eyes, saying nothing as he left the room.

David stood at his mother's bedside for a long time, stroking her cheek. Her condition had stabilized and it was time for him to go. He left the room silently, saying nothing, the same as when he left his sister. This was not goodbye; it was going to be forever.

It would be another six years before he acted on his decision, but it was six years of learning, learning to be alone.

The truth of his actions hit him like a sledgehammer square on the heart. He was alone. Since the day he had left them, he had convicted himself to being alone. A barrier had erected itself around his heart and any emotion he once knew had faded into a dull numbness. Even worse, was realizing the fact that on that day he had turned his back on the two people who needed him, who he needed. He had betrayed their love, the pact, broken the trinity. He was a fool, a cowardly Judas. David Michaels wanted to go home.

"You are an interesting creature indeed," Liegelord continued. "We have almost completely deciphered and mapped your gene structure, but I still don't have my answers."

"What answers?" Winterkill asked. His words were fragments of a harrowed whisper. He felt like he had been torn into a thousand pieces and sloppily been glued back together.

"Have we broken you already?"

"You haven't broken shit!" Winterkill spat.

"Still so arrogantly stubborn."

"What do you want? What?" Winterkill screamed in angered confusion. He needed out.

"I want to know who gave you everlasting life."

"What do you mean?"

"Simply, who bestowed this gift on you?"

"Nobody. That is it? Why didn't you just ask me in the first place? Jesus Christ! You think what I am a gift? It's a curse. Who gave it to me?" Winterkill mocked. "Nobody! I was born lucky." He laughed sadistically. "That's the answer to my life, I was born lucky."

Liegelord stepped closer to his prisoner. "Ignorant fool, immortality is not something that is bred! It is a gift given to a precious few." He stared into David, searching. "Now end this charade and confess!"

"There is nothing to tell," his desire to get back to his mother and sister overwhelmed him, pushing him, driving him.

"Then you are in for a long ride, immortal, I'm going to tear you down to each individual cell in your body to get what I want."

Out! David needed out. Betraying his family, all the memories, the years he struggled to disassociate himself from his feelings, worked as a strain of claustrophobia. It seized him, possessing his emotions and twisting them inside out.

"You can live forever, and you are going to spend that eternity here," the Liegelord stated callously.

Winterkill thrashed in a frenzy.

He wanted to go home.

He needed to go home.

He was a sleeping Judas who had awakened in need of redemption.

"Kriegen!" Liegelord beckoned. "Continue to peel our friend apart. Take your time and make the process painful. I'll expect not to be disturbed until he is ready to confess."

"My Lord, thy will be done," Kriegen smiled.

"Eternal hell," Liegelord stated bluntly.

No! David became enraged. He needed out. He thrashed and shot his head back and forth, like a vicious caged animal.

"Everlasting, eternal hell," the pleasure in the Liegelord's words cut David's nerves, snapping his sanity like twigs in a blazing fire.

"You want answers?" Winterkill shouted, regaining the Liegelord's attention. "Then be warned you son of a bitch. I am the Second Coming. I am God." He huffed in short breaths unable to pause in his verbal rampage. "I fear nothing. Death holds no warrant over my soul. I will come back. I will always return. Fear me, Liegelord. Fear me and be warned. I am your murderer. I am your eternal damnation; I am your personal hell!"

Unshaken, the Liegelord clapped. "What bravado. If you could see yourself?" A malicious laugh echoed from Liegelord's mouth. "Helpless, crucified, barely a shell of what was once a man. You threaten me?" He retreated from the room. "Fool!" With his laughter following like a ghost.

David sank. Wasted, tired, the memories continued to flow in a blinding, confusing flood. He fought against the overwhelming emotions. He had to hold on. The others would come. Poison would come. Then he could go home.

He had to survive.

He had to endure.

Not losing his sanity before then was going to be the trick.
CHAPTER TEN

The walk back from the small cafe had done nothing to calm him as he strode through the main floor lobby of Stardawn Enterprises. Wilson Donner continued the argument with himself. The one that had been muddling his thoughts for the last ten blocks.

He should not have walked out on Heart the way he did, he admitted to himself. It was rude, unfair, and uncharacteristically impulsive. She had only been trying to help, but she had overstepped the boundary, prying into matters that did not concern her. Heart never even knew his wife. She could only guess at how Elizabeth's death had shattered him. He had crawled out of the pit of depression that he had wallowed in for months after her death, and it was enough of a struggle to keep himself from falling back in without having the people around him trying to reopen the fissure that scarred his heart.

"Damn her!" He frustratingly muttered to himself as he exited the elevator and entered his private, penthouse office. The top floor of Stardawn was only accessible to him. Wilson had another office, one floor down, where he ran his multi-million dollar business, but here was his alone. Home away from home.

"Damn me," he cursed himself as he flopped into the chair behind the mahogany desk. Wilson leaned back, resting his legs upon the desk; the left crossed over the right, and interlocked his fingers behind his head. He thought about David, about Squire, and about Heart. Who they were and who he was. He carried himself back through the events of the day, lunch at the cafe, the cemetery, Elizabeth. His wife that he missed so much!

"Damn me all to hell!" It was his fault, all his fault. The shame set in as he began to roll back into the memory of that bloody night when his wife was murdered; murdered right in front of him while he watched, and did nothing.

The business trip had been too long, a whole week away from Elizabeth when generally he could barely make it through a typical business day without seeing her angelic face. He had called every single night from his hotel room, and smiled at the sweet echo of her laughter as they talked for hours on end. That was one of Elizabeth's gifts. She could go on and on about nothing and make everything in the world sound like heaven. When she talked, a trip to the grocery store was more bewildering than and twice as amazing as any day spent in Disneyland.

Wilson kicked the desk, kicked it again, while he replayed their conversation on his last night away. They had gone through the ordinary details; when was his flight landing, which gate, did he want to come straight home, or maybe stop for dinner? Elizabeth had gone on, in her innocently, musical way, of telling him that it was raining. She believed that the raindrops were God's tears, and she had said that God was crying for them because they had been apart for so long. She even made something so corny sound romantic.

So long? It had only been a week.

An eternity.

Wilson opened his eyes and watched the rain pelting the glass doors that led out to the balcony. "Who's crying now Elizabeth?"

His office was equipped with all the amenities of home, a spacious bedroom, frugal kitchenette, and an ornate bathroom. There were also living quarters on the fourth floor of the sub-levels. Stardawn Enterprises was where Wilson Donner practically lived. Not out of need, but out of necessity. He still owned the elaborate house Elizabeth and he had shared their lives in, but that house was where she had died and he rarely had the strength to walk in the front door, never mind even entertaining the thought of sleeping in their bed. He refused to sell it though, because too many memories, good and happy memories, resided in those walls.

In the bathroom, Wilson rhythmically undressed by folding his pants along the creases, meticulously draping his suit over the empty hanger dangling from a brass hook on the back of the door. He even went as far as to neatly fold his underwear, and each individual sock, placing them in an orderly pile on the small shelf that ran over the toilet.

The spray of the shower thrummed a steady beat, and steam filtered from the enclosed cubicle painting the glass door in a white haze. Naked, Wilson stepped in and leaned into the spray. The hot water ran over him, reddening his neck and shoulders. It was too hot, but he didn't care, didn't notice. He stood stalk still with his head hanging and arms braced against the tile walls hoping the constant wave of water would cleanse him, wash away his shame. It was a trick he had been trying for three years now, and it would fail just like every other time, but it was therapeutic. As he cried the water blinded him so he could not feel the sting of his own tears scraping down his cheeks.

His flight home had been delayed, as usual, and once they were in the car, Elizabeth handed him a couple of sandwiches.

"I didn't have time to prepare dinner, so eat these," she said with a coy smile.

"You didn't have time? My arrival was two hours late."

"I know. I called the airport before I left."

"So?"

"So I was busy preparing something else," the smile she was wearing was Heaven's grace. Full lips, snow white teeth.

"What?" He played along with her simple riddle while struggling to unravel his sandwich from its maze of cellophane.

"Let me just say to you, Mister Donner, that you are about to become a very, very busy man."

"How busy?" He pulled the top layer of bread back to inspect what dinner was composed of. Thinly sliced roast beef lathered with mustard - it was his favourite, as far as sandwiches go.

"You have a whole week to catch up on!"

Wilson chewed his first bite, relishing the taste because she had made the sandwich with her delicate hands. "A whole week in one night?" He finished chewing and faked a look of wide-eyed shock.

"I hope you're up to the task!"

"Not yet, but give me a minute."

He re-wrapped the uneaten half of his dinner and placed it on the dashboard.

Nestling himself in his seat, Wilson laid his head back and closed his eyes.

"That's right," Elizabeth said sympathetically while patting his knee. "Conserve your energy."

With the blaze of water rushing down his body a thin smile creased Wilson's tormented features. She was always so smart, so witty, never missing a beat.

"How was your flight?" She asked.

"Besides the two hour stop-over? Long," Wilson opened his eyes to watch her drive. everything she did was magical.

"Did you manage to get any sleep?"

"You know me, can't sleep in crowds."

"I don't know why you just don't buy yourself a helicopter, or a jet. You hate the crowds so much, the stopovers. I mean look at it this way, every respectable - I own my own company- I have more money than God - person out there has one, or the other, or both."

"But I don't know how to fly."

"Don't be silly."

"Elizabeth, it's like I always say...."

She continued for him. She had heard the miniature speech for every dollar he had ever made. "I'm not better than anybody else and never want to place myself above ordinary people just because I'm considered to be rich." She imitated him in her best possible way, swaying her head from side to side, hunching up her shoulders, and speaking in as husky a voice as she could muster; all the while never taking her eyes off the road.

"And that's why I torture myself with commercial flights," he laughed with her.

She placed her right hand firmly between his legs. "I'm sorry to say, but you, my husband..." She squeezed a little. "...Are anything but ordinary people!"

"Well in that regard, I hope not!"

The flat of Wilson's palm slammed against the tile of the shower. He had relived that devastating evening over and over; replaying the memory in vivid, precise detail. From the red sweater she was wearing to the smell of her hair.

"Damn!" His palm slapped against the wall a second time. He didn't want to go any farther. If only he could stop the memory right at that precise moment, but it was a runaway train that wasn't going to stop until it had dragged him through the horror show of his wife's murder that would leave him wallowing in the bowel of shame and guilt one more time.

Once they were home, Elizabeth immediately led him by the hand upstairs to their bedroom. His wife was practically dragging him in her erotic haste, and she refused to give her husband enough time to place his things in the front closet in his usual robotic routine that was so annoying. His briefcase, luggage, overcoat, and shoes were scattered along the front hall as he desperately tried to relieve himself of their encumbrance.

The week they had spent apart was found in the playground of their bed as they melded together in that perfect union of body and soul.

Trying to hold together his broken heart, Wilson's left hand clutched at his chest as he floated recklessly in reminiscence of the softness of her skin, her body pressed against his.

Bang!

Their lovemaking stopped.

Crash!

A shadow skirted in the hallway. Its form arrested by the light in the hall that reached into their room from the small space at the bottom of their closed bedroom door.

Wilson stumbled backwards in the shower; clobbering himself with the wall as he screamed out, "NO! NO! NO!" His legs were no longer composed of flesh and bone, but were rubber unable to support his weight. He glided down the shower's wall opposite the faucet as steaming water pummelled him.

Now in a sitting position, Wilson's hand clasped around his ears while his head shook violently from side to side, still trying to deny the unavoidable next recollection of events. "Don't say it. Please don't say it, don't," he repetitiously begged.

"Someone's in the house," her sweet loving breath whispered in his ear.

Shivering regardless of the heat being disbursed from the adjustable showerhead, Wilson knew on some indefinable level that there was no possible way to stop the memory train. All he could do was hold on and pray for the ride to end quickly.

"I know, I heard it," Wilson whispered back. He slid out from under the covers and into his pants.

"I'm calling the police." Elizabeth stated in a quivering voice. She rolled over and picked up the handset.

"I'll be right back," Wilson told her.

She dropped the phone back onto the cradle without having dialled. "What do you mean? You are not going anywhere."

"Stay here, I'll be right back. I promise. I'm just going to look and then I'll come right back. Stay here, okay?"

Elizabeth reached for the phone again, but pulled her hand away, catching Wilson just as his hand was slowly turning the doorknob. "No, Wilson, don't leave me alone."

He reached out offering his hand, "Okay, c'mon."

Wrapping her robe around her naked body, Elizabeth placed her hand in the one that he was offering.

"Stay with me. Right with me," he pleaded with his eyes.

She nodded her understanding.

They exited their bedroom into the darkness of the upstairs hallway. Whoever was in their house was toying with them. The hall light had been on only a few minutes ago.

Wilson led them to the top of the stairwell where he paused to listen for any distinguishable sounds. The silence that fogged the house was eerie. Someone was down there, somewhere.

He could feel Elizabeth, pressed against his back, quaking. He gave his wife's hand a light squeeze. A message to relax, it was going to be okay. Her internal fears found it hard to believe him though.

Slowly, they descended the stairs to the main level. The moonlight adorned the kitchen with its luminescence, and at the front of the house lights from the street echoed the outline of poplars from the front lawn into the living room, fusing the main floor of the house in marauding shadows.

A carpet muffled thud came from their right. The intruder was in the living room.

Wilson breathed into his wife's ear. "Go to the kitchen, call the police."

Shaking her head no, she looked at him beseechingly. She didn't want to separate, to be left alone.

"Go. I'll meet you there in one minute. One minute. I'm going into the living room and I'll circle through the dining room."

Elizabeth silently refused, still shaking her head. He pulled away from her though, without giving her a choice.

Near the living room, Wilson slowly sidestepped furniture. The streetlights gave off enough of their yellow glow for him to avoid tripping over something in the dark. He stopped, listening and watching for any sign of movement, anything to alert him to the whereabouts of the trespasser.

Halfway through his inspection, Wilson turned and saw light in the hallway that led to the upper stairwell. The hall ended in the kitchen, where the light originated. But why would Elizabeth have turned the lights on? A broken second later his head was filled with his wife's scream.

Reacting instinctively, Wilson bolted. Back down the hall into the kitchen where he froze, arms braced out before him. "Don't!"

"Do," the figment of twisted flesh hissed from behind Elizabeth.

From behind the intruder held her captive; one gnarled, muscular arm around her waist, and the other hand clenched around her throat.

"Take whatever you want, anything," Wilson reasoned.

"I have."

"Oh God, please?"

The intruder gargled a soft laugh as he drove the nail of his index finger across Elizabeth's tender neck, tracing a thin seam of blood. "Beg!"

"Please! Leave her alone. Don't hurt her. I'll give you anything. Please, just don't hurt my wife," he felt so weak, so helpless.

"I've already taken everything I need."

The begging eyes of his wife bore into him. Help me!

"One lesson to learn tonight," the intruder rasped at Wilson while licking Elizabeth's ear. "You should learn to take better care of your things."

Confined in the shower with no escape, Wilson's eyes filled with the vision of red.

Simultaneously, the intruder ripped open Elizabeth's neck with a single, gruesome stroke of its hand, and filled the kitchen with a wet tearing noise as her ear was engulfed by his mouth.

The monster that had invaded their home, defiled the precious sanctity they had built together, was gone before Elizabeth slumped lifeless to the floor.

Shocked, horrified, any and every emotion imaginable wove into a tight ball around his stomach. Wilson stood frozen, unbelieving, as his wife lay cradled on the tile of their kitchen floor with a pool of her blood encircling her body, slowly increasing its radius.

The continuous stream of water washing over him had gone cold forty-two minutes ago, and Wilson's skin had taken on a bluish hue riddled with goose bumps. His wife had made a joke that night, one sentence, which haunted him every day. "I'm sorry to say, but you, my husband, are anything but ordinary people."

Those few words held more of a concrete fact than the stone tablets that Moses carried declaring the laws of God. Wilson Donner was anything but ordinary. He had been born a few rings higher on the evolutionary ladder, a man able to sprout wings from his back, will his hands into claws, and turn teeth into fangs. He could do all those things except on the one night it mattered; when he needed to the most. Ordinary?

Elizabeth had not known about his gifts, and until that night, he had lived in fear of them, a dark secret to be kept hidden. In his younger years Wilson had been forced to forget. Born with a platinum spoon in his mouth, but when his mutations were first discovered his father was appalled. His son was some form of freak that jeopardized the distinguished Donner name. Wilson had spent as many hours, as his father had spent money, on psychiatrists, psychologists, hypnotists, priests, and biology and chemistry experts; every single form of doctor imaginable from any corner of the globe. Each of them taking their turn, adding their expertise, and brick by brick erecting walls that would block Wilson's mind from being able to engage his mutations.

He had the ability to save his wife, but he had been afraid. Afraid to release, what his father used to call, gifts from the devil that makes a walking sacrilege. Now she was gone. No matter how many pictures of her he looked at only one image burned in his mind. Elizabeth, with her throat ripped out and a dangling, bloody mess of cartilage where her ear should have been. It was his fault she was dead. If he would have let her call the police, Elizabeth would be alive. If he had not sent her into the kitchen alone, Elizabeth would still be alive. If he had not been a coward and faced that twisted form before it tore her throat out, ate her ear. If that mangled beast of flesh...that gruesome mass of muscle...malicious...rasping voice...

Wilson picked himself up and slammed the faucet off. Breathing in short gasps he willed his knees to hold him up, and not buckle under the revelation. He had never figured out why that murderer had invaded their house. The police had never found his wife's killer either.

He had.

Just the other day!

"I know you," he had said.

Now he had a name for his nightmares.

"Kriegen!"

It would be another twenty-seven minutes before he stepped out of the shower stall.
CHAPTER ELEVEN

Slowly dressing himself, Wilson avoided making eye contact with the reflection staring back at him from the bathroom mirror. He didn't dare look into his own two eyes.

Three years after Elizabeth's death he had come face to face with his wife's murderer. So close that he still remembered the smell of Kriegen's rancid breath. After three years he was almost given the satisfaction of finally finding an answer to that single, insane driving question. Why? Why them? Why that night? And like all the dreams Elizabeth and Wilson had made for the future, his wife's killer had slipped through his fingers. The same man that as far as the team could presume had kidnapped David while simultaneously disappearing from the face of the earth. Gone! Vanished into the darkness.

Unable to avoid the judgmental stare reflecting in the mirror, Wilson left the bathroom and returned to his office.

"Lights!" He commanded the voice-activated controls. The room was instantly illuminated revealing the presence of an unannounced visitor.

"Do you know where David is?" Poison asked before Wilson had a chance to react in his apparent surprise. "Because I sure as hell don't, and nobody around here seems to give a damn, but me!"

"Poison, Jesus! You scared the hell out of me," he confessed.

"Good. I figured you needed a little wake up call."

"How in God's name did you get in here? This whole floor is secured; it's supposed to be inaccessible."

"Well," she chuffed, taking a seat on one of the two couches that faced each other across a cherry wood table. She crossed her right leather clad leg over the left knee and leaned back into the cushions. "Never ask a woman to confess her secrets, it's impolite."

"Fine, be coy! I'm definitely not in the mood for your games," Wilson said as he made his way over to the wet bar.

"You're not going to offer me a drink?" She turned her neck to watch him.

"No," was the response as two ice cubes clinked together in the single glass. "I really don't appreciate the intrusion, and I'd prefer it if you leave."

"I can't."

"Oh! And why is that?" Wilson responded with a sharp edge, the bottle of whiskey he had been pouring slammed onto the counter. He was not in the mood. His day was turning out to be a roller coaster ride on a rickety, old track. The fact was that he was already angry with himself, never mind that he was pissed right off at having his privacy invaded. He still had no clue as to how she might have sneaked in. Poison had caught him off guard, surprising him and that gave her an advantage. Whatever she wanted, Poison was playing the scenario her way.

"Because you and me need to have a little talk."

"Great!" He swallowed half of what he had poured into the glass in a single sip. "Why is it that every woman in my life has decided that today is the day for little talks?"

"I'm not in your life, remember? But I'll be all over it if you don't sit down a minute."

"Don't waste your breath on those boisterous threats you like to throw around. If you want to talk, fine! I'll meet you in the conference room. Just get the hell out of my office."

She didn't flinch from her position on the couch. "I'm not leaving. We don't need to go anywhere." A warning smile was thrown to let him know that she wasn't about to be bullied. "Tell me what is being done about David."

"I'm working on it. Kalide is working on it."

"You had better start being straight with me on this, Wilson. Working on it? It's been over two fucking days!"

"Not quite, and this isn't the agency anymore Poison. I'm being straight, there's no secret agenda here, but we don't have anything to act on."

"That's not good enough."

"I'm sorry, but that's it. We're doing our best."

"For Christ's sake, Wilson, quit feeding me your shit," Poison shouted at him. "I'm finding it real hard to swallow."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm begging you to help me," she tried to regain her composure, feeling like she was going to blow at any moment in her volcano of frustration. "I want to know where we're at. For some reason I'm being cut out of the loop."

"Poison, we are a team. You are not being left out of anything," he tried to reason with her, arguing was not going to get her out of his office any faster. "If you were around more often you would know that." He continued. "I know how much you care for him." Wilson was still angry with her for sneaking, somehow, into his office, and the last line came out wrapped in a little too much sarcasm. "I can tell because it's more than your general capability to care."

She glared at him. Pure as ice.

"Okay, listen," he reasoned some more, changing tactics as he seated himself across from her. "I'm sorry. I'm having a bitch of a day, and you put me on the defensive by showing up here unannounced."

"I'm frustrated, Wilson. David would not have just gone off somewhere in the middle of a fire fight."

"I know. I know."

"And already a couple of days have been lost. Days have gone by and we haven't done a fucking thing to find him."

"The problem is that our hands are tied waiting."

"For what?"

"For Squire to recover."

"Start at the beginning. You've been avoiding me, ignoring me, since we returned to Stardawn that night."

"I wasn't ignoring you, I've been giving you space so you would calm down. I need you rational. When we go to rescue David I can't afford to have you playing the loose cannon and jeopardizing the rest of us."

"It didn't work, avoiding me, you only managed to piss me off more," Poison remarked bluntly.

"Obviously," Wilson sighed, rubbing his forehead with his left hand. He felt like he was swimming in a pool of vertigo, out of control. Elizabeth's lifeless body flickered behind his eyes like an erratic strobe light. Elizabeth...the blood...Kriegen...the alley...Kriegen...Elizabeth, "Someone's in the house". He had him. After all this time, Wilson had his wife's killer, and he let him get away a second time. Failed Elizabeth a second time. "I need another drink, you?"

"Please."

Retrieving a second glass from the cupboard he began filling both of the tumblers. "Kalide went back to the alley and scoured the area, picked it clean." With his eyes forced shut, Wilson tried to clear his head, to push the images away. His wife's murderer was this Kriegen. The revelation was needling the base of his skull. He should have realized it earlier, remembered. He couldn't stop beating himself up over it. Why didn't he figure it out that night? Would it have made a difference? "He found nothing. The only logical conclusion we can figure is that somehow Kriegen got the upper hand and kidnapped him." He handed Poison her glass and sat down again. "Why? You're guess is as good as mine."

"And we have no clue where this Kriegen is hiding?"

"That is the waiting game. We are lost until Squire comes out of this fugue he's in."

"What about the other one, Plaza?"

"He doesn't know. All that he could tell us was that Kriegen was hunting them. The two of them were running from someone named Liegelord, and Kriegen was sent to bring them back. That was four weeks ago."

"That's it! That's all he could tell you."

"I've gone through it with him a hundred times, but he doesn't remember the way they came. Too scared? I don't know. Plaza said that the day they deserted their Liegelord was the first time he had seen the sky?" Wilson sipped his drink, rolling the ice cubes around in the liquid. "That is the short of it. Now you know as much as I do."

"This is ridiculous! You believe this lame story? I know two year olds that can concoct a better lie."

"I believe him. He's out of his element, too confused and scared to lie. They have both been through some trauma. Plaza has barely left the infirmary; he just sits there at his friend's bed side with a lost look on his face."

"You're not telling me anything that helps. What about David?"

"Plaza said that Squire would know. He'll know how to find Kriegen, and David."

"Wonderful! The one that decides to turn mute is the one with all the answers," Poison stood up.

"It's all we've got!" He didn't have the energy for another argument. "Kalide is doing what he can in the infirmary. We have to be patient."

"I'm sure David will understand," she walked towards the door.

"Poison!" Wilson halted her exit. She turned to face him. "I want this as much as you."

"Well, be patient," the coldness she exhaled with her sarcasm dropped the room's temperature by, what felt like, ten degrees.

"You didn't have the pleasure of meeting Kriegen, but..." Stumbling for the words he tried to reach out to her. "He was the one, the one that murdered Elizabeth!"

"Figures."

"How dare you?" Wilson yelled at her incompassion.

"Because it's great how all this ties together. At least now I know you've got a reason to give a shit!"

"Lea..."

She was there, in front of him, before he could finish, slapping the words right out of his mouth. "Don't ever, ever, say that name again, ever!"

"Get out!" He demanded, rubbing the left side of his face where she had struck him.

"You are going to need a lot more than just a few hours in the shower to clean up that conscience."

"How long were you in here?"

"Long enough!" She was smiling. Hurting him, physically and verbally, made her feel good. Homecoming Queen of the ice pageant.

"Blame me if you want, but it is not my fault."

"Well, when mute boy decides to speak you'll finally be able to exact revenge over losing the woman you loved so much."

"You can leave the way you came in!" Wilson snarled at her.

"You'd like that, but you'll never know how," Poison walked to the main office doors. "Open them!"

"Leave the same way you came in."

"If you want me out of here, you are going to have to open these doors."

"Doors!" Wilson commanded.

"Thanks Dad," Poison hissed over her shoulder.

She was gone. Lashing out with that single word and then leaving before he could even begin to feel it sting. Hit and run.

Sitting with his elbows perched on his desk, fingers interlocked supporting his chin, Wilson stared at the empty tumbler before him. He didn't dare even tempt the thought of entertaining a third drink. He'd been down that wallowing road before. Alcohol had played an integral part in the bond he had shared with depression for so long. He released a long breath before picking up the phone and pressing the single button that was for the direct line to his secretary.

"Good afternoon, sir."

"Josephine, do I have any appointments this afternoon?"

"Two," she answered immediately. A walking talking calendar, Josephine was the best at what she did, and that was keeping Mister Donner's business life in order. She never missed a beat.

"Check Marshall's schedule and see if he can attend them in my place, please? Or just reschedule." Marshall was his Chief Financial Officer, best friend and confidant. Besides the team there was one person that was aware of what resided under Stardawn Enterprises, Marshall. The master genius that ensured Wilson could fund his little band with state of the art training facilities and private jets.

"But..."

"Please Josephine; don't tell me you're going to argue with me also?"

"No, they've already been rescheduled."

"Thank-you," God, he felt so tired today.

"Are you okay, Mister Donner? Were you in an argument?" She was genuinely concerned. That was Josephine.

"Never mind, it's okay, forget I said anything." After his goodbye he gently placed the handset into the cradle and leaned back in his chair.

It didn't bother him that Poison had called him Dad. It was the truth, but it hurt that she only used the denomination as a weapon against him. What aggravated him so much was how she got into his penthouse. There was a retinal scan, and fingerprint match that had to be passed to allow access. Both of those sensors were keyed for him alone. She was keeping a secret. He hated the fact that she had invaded his privacy. Ever since the night of Elizabeth's murder, he couldn't stand being violated that way. He felt frustrated by the whole day, angry, and extremely stupid for taking so long to realize that Kriegen had been the one. For letting Poison goad him so easily. That ugly monster had ripped open his wife's throat, and chewed off her ear. He replayed the night in the alley, rolling it over, re-pacing each step, wondering what, if anything, he could have done different.

Nothing!

It didn't matter that he now had his special gifts; Wilson had failed a second time. It would not happen again. His anger boiled inside of him; surging without a breaker to withhold him when he snapped. For the first time in three years, Wilson felt the complete rage that had brought on the reawakening of his powers.

After Elizabeth's funeral, Wilson sank into the bottomless well of depression; slowly isolating him from friends and family. In the months that followed he rode the waves of guilt and shame, sorrow and fear. All of his emotions weaved into a single pathway of anger.

He had barely left his house in two months. One night he found himself in the kitchen, staring at the spot where Elizabeth had died. He had tried every type of cleaner available, but the tile still held a pinkish tint from her blood.

During his grieving, Wilson had kept everything inside. Not talking, or sharing his grief with anyone, and at that precise moment it all became uncontrollable, spewing out of him like the boiling lava of an erupting volcano. That night he fell onto his knees screaming. Screaming at his wife for leaving him, ranting at the police for not finding her killer, shouting at the murderous son-of-a-bitch who had stolen her life, and howling at the world for being lost in so much chaos.

The walls his father had gone through so much effort to erect, crumbled. Wilson was thrown to the floor racked with pain. His whole body heaved in spasms, twitching and shuddering as the skin on his back split open around the shoulder blades. By the time the wings had finished forming, he was unconscious.

In the early morning of what had been another sleepless night, the Eagle had dawned.
CHAPTER TWELVE

The portable phone rested on the family room's coffee table. In the past three hours she had attempted to call the police twenty-four times. On the seventh try, Mandy came as close as completing half of the phone number's configuration. During her sixteenth attempt she had built up enough courage to get as far as the ring before she quickly disconnected the call.

Calling the police seemed like the most logical thing to do, but Mandy could not figure out what to say. It was all so unbelievable. Was she supposed to tell them that a few days ago she found her long lost brother who had been considered missing for years now? But she did not realize it was him until this morning because when she saw him, he was dressed up like one of King Arthur's knights. Oh! And she could not forget to mention to the police about how she was attacked by some inhuman monster who wanted to eat her alive, not rape her; just tear the flesh from her bones with his bare teeth. She ran the imagined conversation through her mind, continuing to detail to the figment voice on the other end of the line how she was miraculously rescued by a guy who shot, what looked like, lightning bolts from his hands.

Mandy stared blankly at the telephone. Running through her mind, one more time, what she was going to say without sounding like one of those crazy people who call to be saved from the alien race living in their television sets.

"Yeah, right!" Mandy mumbled to herself. "Not even avid readers of the Weekly World News would be stupid enough to fall for this one."

She sat up and grabbed the phone

"No bullshit this time, make the call." She had to try, no matter how crazy the whole thing sounded, for Brian's sake.

The keypad stared up at her, patiently waiting for Mandy to depress its buttons. The monotonous dial tone hissed into the room. This was going to be her twenty-fifth try. But what if it had not been Brian? Her doubts teased her. Maybe she only wanted to believe it was him? The more she thought about it, the easier it was to convince herself that she did not get a very good look at the person who was unconscious on the hood of her car. It had been way too dark; she began to question herself. Everything had happened so fast, and she had been so scared.

That was it! Mandy put the phone back down on the coffee table. She had believed that it was Brian because...Because?

"Fuck!" Mandy began to cry. She had always been a lousy liar. A complete failure when she tried it on herself.

There was no dodging it, or talking herself out of it, it was Brian. There was not any shred of doubt in Mandy's mind.

The phone rang; a sudden explosion of noise that broke the silence in the house.

A short, high-pitched squeal bounced out of Mandy's mouth as she sprang backwards into the corner of the couch. She watched the phone with trepidation, as if it was possessed by an evil entity.

The ringing stopped, she had not answered in time and the caller had been forwarded to the messaging service.

Mandy stared at the phone, and jumped a second time when the ringing began again.

After two rings she finally regained her wits and picked it up, pressing the "talk" button. "Hello?"

After an hour of unresponsive communication with the walls, Wilson moved out to the balcony. The sun had set and the cityscape slowly came alive with its lights. Watching the city below from his high rise perch usually brought at least a shred of comfort, but not tonight. It had been a miserable day shadowed by the inner turmoil spinning in his gut like a cyclone.

His communication device beeped an interruption to his contemplations. Wilson answered instinctively, "Eagledawn."

"I need you in the infirmary. There's been a development." It was Kalide.

"I'm already on my way."

He hurried through his office, belaying the verbal command that would seal the patio doors and extinguish the office lights.

Once he was confined in the darkness of the elevator, Wilson requested the second sub-level. That was when the first blow came, to the back of the head, driving him face first into the doors.

A body pressed hard into his back pinning him.

"If sub-level two is our destination, will I find the Squire and Plaza there?" A waspish, male voice entered his ear.

"I have no idea who," Wilson was immediately cut off by another blow. A fist hammered into his lower back. The pain was immense; a shockwave of needles touring his spine.

"I can smell them. They are close. Lie to me again and I will define for you the true meaning of pain."

Wilson gave into the attacker's weight. Shifting himself so he could brace his arms and left foot against the closed doors that his mystery guest was crushing him into. The force on his back lightened as he faked his submission. Seizing the opportunity, Wilson shoved himself backwards, throwing the unknown assailant against the opposite, rear wall. For the moment he was free.

Then the onslaught presumed.

They bashed back and forth in Wilson Donner's private elevator. Flailing and kicking, their actions were shadowed by the phosphorescent beam of light traversing their forms. The computerized voice echoed in the small compartment among the thuds and wet smacks. "Identification verified, Eagledawn. Identification negative, unregistered intruder, access to sub-levels denied."

The elevator slowed to a grave halt.

"Sorry, buddy, but you're not going anywhere," Wilson somewhat laughed.

A powerful fist hurtled two fast successional shots into Eagledawn's mending ribs.

The millionaire howled at the reopening of his wounds and instantly willed teeth and nails to elongate. Fangs and claws tore and bit into the intruder's flesh. There were no sounds to mark if he was causing damage to his opponent, and Eagledawn needed out of the constricted space to get an advantage.

"Sub-level two, right?" The shadowed form declared as they grappled. "That's all I needed to know. It can be hard to pinpoint a target with all these new scents to decipher." There was a gurgling snort. "I can find my own way from here."

A fist, or foot, drove its way into Eagledawn's stomach causing him to double over, followed by an elbow that bashed into his skull. If he lost consciousness he was dead. If his assailant made it to the lower levels unannounced they would all be dead. There was only one option left. He would be leading the intruder right to Plaza and Squire, but it was better than letting him run free. He had to hang on, get the elevator moving, and warn the others.

"Access override sequence: Dawn-Meta-Beth-Alpha."

Another fist shot gunned into Eagledawn's face, cutting off the verbal command. He immediately returned the favour two-fold.

"Access override sequence: Dawn-Meta-Beth-Alpha-09-10-Liz," he frustratingly shouted a second time, completing the override command.

The elevator resumed its descent, filling the cabin area in a green hue. "Access override code accepted. Access to sub-levels cleared."

Eagledawn swung his left arm up in a slashing attack, tearing into the flesh of his opponent. Flicking his tongue he activated the surgically implanted communication link. "Kalide," Eagledawn howled as something sharp cleaved its way across his chest. "Private elevator...Intruder...Level two." He managed to choke out his warning.

"Plaza! Follow me," Kalide ordered as he ran out of the infirmary. "Poison, where are you?"

"The Playpen, training," she sweated.

"Get to the Communication's area on two, we've got a visitor. Eagledawn is already engaged," Kalide thundered down through the halls with Plaza in tow, hoping to beat the elevator's arrival.

They stopped at the door, waiting, listening to the hum of the hydraulics as the elevator neared its destination.

The shadowed form hissed as Eagledawn's fangs embedded themselves in its right shoulder. It was the first noise he had heard except when his assailant had spoken earlier. Wilson had initially hoped, no prayed, that his surprise guest was Kriegen, but this was not that monster. He would never fail to recognize that voice again.

The same weapon that had created the gash in his chest with a scalpel's precision was driven into his left shoulder blade. Eagledawn released his bite in painful surprise.

Both opponents were tattered and torn. Clothes shredded and blood, a mix of each other's, covered them like war paint. Eagledawn ignored his body's request to relent. Every fraction of emotion he had suffered today imbued his blows with an unknown sense of fury. Eagledawn cherished the thought that if the elevator cabin had been properly illuminated his adversary would be able to see him smiling. Enduring the pain and relishing every blood goaded inch of suffering he was inflicting.

"Sub-level two," the computer announced. The doors began to glide open.

A foot struck him under the chin, snapping his jaw shut on an unwary tongue. The kick sent Eagledawn reeling with a dance of stars filling the periphery of his vision.

A metallic hum interrupted the anticipatory silence of the hallway where Kalide and Plaza stood ready.

Kalide's cyborg armaments were now on-line. He engaged his heat sensor to prepare his aim for when he had a visual contact with the intruder.

"There's only one body in there," he shouted over his shoulder to Plaza, and switched to the motion detector. "I'm only receiving readings from one body? What the hell is going on?"

The entrance to the elevator seemed to part open in slow motion.

After the reeling kick, three more blows plunged into Eagledawn before the hand clamped around his throat. Dazed, he felt himself being hoisted up and banging into the ceiling of the compartment.

The elevator entrance was open and a pair of fiery red eyes gleamed from the shadowy figure.

"They sent a Hunter!" Plaza exclaimed in horror. "It's all over. They sent a Hunter."

The fear in him quaked with his words.

"Stay with me, Plaza, I need you watching my back," Kalide rallied. "On my mark..."

The Hunter hurled Eagledawn's flaccid body at them, blocking Kalide's aim.

Kalide side stepped the makeshift, human bullet, and heard Plaza accept the brunt of the callous attack as he tumbled to the ground entwined with an unconscious Eagledawn. Kalide shot a laser blast that went wide, his targeting array unable to compensate for the recalibration in time.

The three entered a ballet of violence.

Swift, fluid, the polished steel of a sword shining in the brightness of the hall's overhead lights, the Hunter was upon them. Swinging and evading, its sword sparked and clanged against Kalide's metal frame, and the Hunter avoided Plaza's attacks with defensive manoeuvres.

Overwhelmed by the Hunter's tenacious attacks, Plaza went down. The assassin screeched with delight, and positioned himself for the killing blow.

A shot From Kalide tore through the arm of the Hunter and he unwillingly released his grip on the sword.

The Hunter kicked, spun, struck, dove, and pummelled the cyborg. Lightning fast, performing a blitzkrieg of damaging movements that left the half man-mostly machine sprawling on the floor. Tiny sparks sizzled and snapped as they popped out of Kalide's lower abdomen where his metal hide had been broken in the melee.

From a small porthole on his right thigh a tiny sphere was ejected into Kalide's palm. He hurled it with an athlete's grace at the retreating Hunter. The sphere splashed upon contact with the assassin's back, releasing its burning, acidic contents. The Hunter squealed, but did not falter in its pursuit. It had the scent of the second target on its ordered hit list.

Kalide realized the Hunter's destination as it disappeared around the corner. The Hunter was making his way to the infirmary.

A deep breath verified the Hunter's heightened sense of smell that the Squire was in this room. Plaza could be dealt with later, he was inconsequential, but the Squire? One of Liegelord's most favoured; the Squire had been privy to many of the secrets lining the halls of Liegelord's dominion. Plaza was only a lowly serf, his dissension must be punished so others would know that disloyalty would not be tolerated, but Squire was the important one. His existence outside of Liegelord's rule could prove to be devastating.

At the same time his nostrils were filled with the second scent, he saw the figure emerging from the concealment of shadows. "Come closer. The darkness and your vile stench do nothing to keep you hidden."

Poison revealed herself as she took up a position that blocked the Hunter's view, and direct line, to Squire.

"How does that old saying go? To get to him, you're going to have to go through me first," she said.

"With pleasure," the Hunter snarled, moving deeper into the infirmary.

"Easier said than done," a razor tipped arrow flew from Poison's specially designed crossbow, and found perch in the encroaching Hunter's chest.

The shadow form charged her, red eyes blazing. Poison pivoted, using her attacker's momentum to throw him. Before the Hunter crash landed into one of the infirmary's empty beds she had reloaded another shaft and fired.

A perfect marksman, the second arrow bit into his leg.

"Don't move a fucking muscle. The shaft I just loaded has an explosive tip. You won't just bleed if I shoot this thing again, I'll blow your leg off." She was poised to release a third shot.

"You are an agile, little vixen," the Hunter winked a glazing red eye. "Let's play!"

The knife seemed to appear out of thin air, flying at her.

Poison ejected the third shaft from her crossbow.

The Hunter was in the air, leaping, diving into her. Her explosive arrow missed its human mark, destroying the bed where her target had been a second ago. The mattress burst into a spray of burning materials. The emergency systems immediately sealed the doors to the infirmary, and the smoke from the small explosion triggered the overhead sprinklers. Poison ducked, dodging the knife, but unable to evade the human missile. The two foes slammed together, rolling backward into Squire's bed.

Outside the infirmary, trapped on the other side of the glass doors, Kalide entered the specific code on the panel by the door. The whine of the fire alarm and the dousing sprinklers were cancelled, but the door did not open like it should have.

Pinned under the Hunter's crushing weight, Poison was wild and untamed in her attempt to escape. She flailed, and kicked, and scratched, but there was nothing she could do to gain the upper hand.

He punched in the code a second time. Nothing happened.

"There must be a malfunction. The computer override is not responding," Kalide said as he attempted the code a third time.

"Whatever you're doing make it fast," Eagledawn warned him.

"I built in fail-safes to protect against this kind of thing."

Impatiently, Wilson watched through the glass as Poison fought for her life. He could tell she was waning. It was a miracle that she had held off the Hunter this long. Any longer would be based solely on her stubbornness. "She's getting herself killed in there."

"I know," Kalide responded as he tore out the console, and began fiddling with the exposed wires.

"Hurry!"

"I know!"

"I mean it!"

There was a crackle of energy that came from behind them. Plaza stepped forward, both of his arms encased in metallic red. "Let me try!"

Her head was lifted and then slammed down against the hard floor. The Hunter had positioned himself on top of her so she was held immobile. Her head was slammed down a second time, jarring her insides.

"Fucker!" She hissed between blood-stained teeth.

There was the sound of shattering glass, followed by a pair of armoured, red arms that grappled and pulled the Hunter off the kicking Poison. Plaza had the intruder held firm, one arm around the squirming body and the other twisting the head into an immovable position. Kalide entered the room next, followed by Eagledawn.

A portrait of rage had transformed Plaza's features and Kalide recognized the outcome of the way Plaza's arm seized the Hunter.

"No, Plaza, don't! We need him for interrogation."

The words were too late.

A simple twist and the sound of a snapping neck left the Hunter dead.

"Plaza!" Kalide yelled as the Hunter's body dropped to the floor with a dead thump. "Without Squire, that was our best link to David."

Plaza looked down at the body. He had never killed before.

"A Hunter must die as the hunted, or it will never stop until it has killed its prey," he looked over at Squire. "At least that was one of the myths that were whispered in the catacombs."

Squire shot up into a sitting position in his bed, making everyone else jump back in surprise, screaming the name of the sister he had forgotten even existed.

Everyone in the infirmary was stunned silent when Squire finally stopped, falling back into his previous mute state.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The empty infirmary bed caught him as he stumbled for a breath. The old wounds Wilson had suffered in the alley were irritated by the new injuries the Hunter had inflicted.

"That was, interesting!" Wilson choked out. He felt like he was going to pass out.

"Are you okay?" Kalide asked. "You look pretty torn up."

"I'm fine," Wilson lied. "Kalide, can you take Plaza and remove the Hunter's body? Get in touch with our contacts to have it taken care of."

"Sure."

"And maybe we can move Squire somewhere drier?"

"I'll move him to the Med-lab until we can clean this place up," Kalide responded. "But let's look at you first!" He motioned Wilson to one of the beds. "Cuts, bruising, a cracked rib? That left eye is going to be twice its size. All and in part you are, or were, the human punching bag," Kalide reported as he tended and assessed Wilson's wounds. "You are very lucky there is nothing worse."

"Not luck," Wilson pulled himself up to a half-sitting position, bracing himself on his elbows and forearms.

"I'll stitch the lacerations, bandage you up, and I can give the healing accelerant, but that means you are going to have to take it easy for a while," Kalide suggested. "The accelerant will heal you fast, but as you know it will knock you on your ass."

"I don't know if I am going to get that opportunity."

They both looked over at the adjacent bed which was currently being inhabited by the comatose Squire.

"No, I suppose you are not," Kalide responded in agreement.

"I only had it once before, but what is that 'accelerant' anyways?"

"Old government recipe, Synthetic, Area 51 stuff they designed to have a pill that wounded soldiers in the field could pop to accelerate their natural healing capabilities, but it never flew."

"Area 51?" Wilson asked.

"Believe it or not," Kalide quipped. "There were aliens found there, and during their 'interrogation' or examination the government discovered that the aliens were very tolerant to pain, and healed at a very rapid rate. One crack pot scientist figured he could develop a synthetic substitute to give our soldiers a similar advantage. Sure it helped the healing process, but first it knocked the subject out for a while, and secondly it was highly addictive to the test subjects. They could never refine it, so it was dropped, more or less."

"And you are giving this to me? You've given it to us before?"

"My own concoction, hopefully not quite as addictive!"

"Not quite?" Wilson raised an eyebrow. "No clinical trials to tell for sure?"

"Technically, the group is my clinical trial!

"Jesus! And how the hell did you get your hands on this stuff? And why did I never ask this before?"

"Well, last time, I recall, you were unconscious when I administered it, and as far as where, well I have contacts."

"So why don't we give it to comatose boy over there," Wilson nodded towards Squire.

"We could, but I do have a limited supply and it may not be easy to get more once this batch is gone. Secondly, it helps heal physical wounds, but as far as I can assess he has no physical impairments, I don't know if it would do any good.

"Although, I don't know what else to do. I've tried everything I know," Kalide reported on Squire's condition. "Now the only options left are to wait, or we can bring in outside help."

"Give him the accelerant, and then we wait," Wilson ordered. "We can't let this outside, not yet." He finally got himself into a full sitting position, legs dangling off the side of the bed. "We wait. And in the meanwhile explore every other avenue to locate David. We will not abandon him, and we will not give up on finding him."

"Fine, we will move him, and then I'll give it to him. Considering what just happened, I have some trepidation around it, but without going outside for help there isn't anything else, and this waiting game is too dangerous for David," Kalide responded.

"Thank you," Wilson smiled his appreciation, as Plaza hefted the shadowed body of the dead Hunter up off the floor. "Meet in the War Room in ten minutes, and we'll go over everything." He used the bed as a crutch to hold himself up until the two men left the room. "If I may be so daring to ask you to patch me up, Poison," Wilson glared at her cautiously, not to sure where to step.

"Only because you're in the right place," she gave no sign of wanting to continue their argument from earlier.

Poison made up a medical tray of the necessities required for tending Wilson's array of wounds.

"I'm at your mercy, so go easy on me," Wilson joked.

Signaling for him to turn around, she inspected his shoulder first. "Just promise me one thing?"

"What?"

"We move on this as soon as possible," she paused in her request to fiddle in the tray she had wheeled over. "Jesus! You should have Kalide do this. You're going to look like a scarecrow by the time I get through with you."

"I trust you."

"Your mistake!" She continued nursing him. "I want your promise that we will go after David as soon as possible."

"As soon as our Catatonic friend over there," Wilson motioned at Squire. "Points us in the right direction, we're gone, promise!"

She stopped and came around him so they were face to face. "This is pretty thin?"

"David has disappeared for days on end before, to who knows where, only to come waltzing back in like he's never left. If he isn't off wandering, his being kidnapped is our best guess, the only logical assumption considering, with the only answer being a catatonic stranger," he met her eyes. "Yeah, it's pretty thin."

Thirty minutes had passed by the time Poison escorted Wilson into what was deemed the "War Room". The room was used as their tactical conference area, and resided on sub-level two adjoined with communications. Although it was called the War Room the cherry wood border that ran half way up the walls, in combination with the old fashioned lights that ringed around the room, positioned between the cherry border and the ceiling, it had a comfortable-business like atmosphere.

Everyone else, including Heart, had already gathered around the long table that occupied the room's center.

"I'm, sorry for the delay. It took me longer than I anticipated getting myself put back together," Wilson apologized.

"It gave us time to move Squire out of the infirmary and into the Med-lab," Kalide said as the pair of latecomers found their seats. "And we don't have to worry about disposing of our dead malefactor's body anymore."

"No, why?" Christ! He had no more energy. Maybe he should have accepted Kalide's offer of the healing accelerant. Wilson's whole body felt like it had been immersed in a pool of boiling hot lava, and the pain killer Poison had given him was taking its sweet old time kicking in. So far he had managed to avoid passing out, but that was not the only thing stealing all of his attention. Heart was sitting at the other end of the table, her long, white cloak draping over the armrests of her chair. He was not even aware that she had returned to Stardawn. Wilson suspected that she was going to be angry with him. Make that still angry with him, or now accompanied with every reasonable excuse to be. He did not have the strength to deal with any animosity right now, it was not the right time, and too much was happening too fast but in slow motion. Still they were left without any answers. Smoothing out the details of the lunch fiasco was something he would have to deal with later. Granted if Heart even gave him that long.

He tried to stay focused on the conversation, but his thoughts continued to glide over into the fantasy world of his bed, sleep, a yearlong hibernation.

"I'm sorry, Kalide, what were you saying?" Wilson leaned forward to re-adjust the focus of his attention, and find a more comfortable position. If one even existed?

"It appears that the Hunter must have had some kind of failsafe device implanted in his body," Kalide began again. "Something that was triggered after death because when we returned from transferring Squire out of the infirmary all that was left was this steaming mass. Plaza and I had only been gone a few minutes, but in that short time the Hunter's body had almost completely dissolved."

"Burned?"

"No, the body looks as if it instantly disintegrated! Seems like one hell of a way to keep things a mystery."

"What can you tell us, Plaza, you knew what that thing was," Wilson choked. He was hurting more than he tried to let on. Heart had not even looked him in the eye yet. He figured he could give up on toying with any notion of forgive and forget. Sleep seemed to be slowly moving farther and farther away.

"I don't know,"

"There are those famous three words I keep hearing about," Poison piped in.

"Please understand," Plaza almost seemed contrite.

"Everyone stop," Wilson cut them off before things got out of hand. He shifted in his chair for the hundredth time. "For now, it's one less thing to worry about. It just leaves us more questions to add to our growing list."

"I contained the remains so I can do a thorough investigation later," Kalide debriefed.

"Good! Let us know if you come up with anything. Right now I want to focus on what is going on with Squire." Wilson leaned forward again. There was a soft crimple noise as he realized he was sitting on something. He reached behind himself and retrieved a rectangular piece of paper. Concealing the small page under the table he unfolded it. The piece of paper was a receipt from the restaurant where he had eaten lunch with Heart. Three words were boldly written across it in black marker.

YOU OWE ME!

When he looked back up, Wilson was met with a coy smile playing on Heart's lips. At least that was one thing he didn't have to worry about. Thankfully, it was now obvious that no grudges were being held.

It felt like a thick fog had fallen over him. The bedding was a mess from Squire's unconscious thrashing, and he was soaked again. This time it was from his sweat, not due to an unexpected shower from the fire sprinklers. Eyes wide, mouth hanging open, Squire was lost somewhere in his own mind. A life and death struggle between two separate personas was being fought while his brain attempted to amalgamate the two into his psyche.

He was awake.

Air choked in his throat. He was too afraid to scream.

Eyes flitted about wildly.

The sterile smell of antiseptic flooded his nostrils.

Squire realized he was in one of the Liegelord's cleansing stations. He had to hide. The Caregivers would arrive any moment. Hide! Hide! Hide!

Rolling out of bed, the I.V. tubes in his arms popped out, but not before the tension on the lines pulled the intravenous cart over. It fell against the side of the bed, sliding, sliding, until it crashed onto the floor.

Squire scurried under the bed, chewing on his thumb so he would not cry out. Did they hear it? Were they coming?

He could not go through another cleansing, not after the last time.

When? The last time.

His breathing slowed. He had never been through a cleansing before, but he had seen the procedure performed, as a Squire he had seen a lot of things, but it was there during a cleansing that he felt a link between what he was watching and the nightmares he had been suffering. The poor soul they were tearing apart, stripping away, had made him realize that his life was not what it should be-what it was? And now he had the taste of a vague memory of enduring the atrocity of a cleansing.

What was going on?

And if he was in a hospital, where were all the nurses? How come his parents were not here?

Was it possible that he had been in an accident?

He had to find a nurse. He had to know if his parents had been notified because Plaza said that Kriegen was coming.

Plaza said they had to keep moving because Kriegen was coming.

John said, no, Plaza, it was Plaza who said that Kriegen...

Kriegen was coming!

He had to escape.

Sliding out from under the bed, Squire ran for the open entranceway. Obviously he was not being held prisoner, or...

His nose popped instantly, leaving a red smear, as a soft thud echoed in the confines of the Med-lab when he collided with the glass doorway.

Everything was quiet. In the peaceful realm of unconsciousness, Squire's psyche was given a rest from the constant battle for possession between two identities.

Even though beads of sweat felt like they were burning their trail down the side of his face, Wilson must have looked whiter than a ghost as Heart stated what he was far too stubborn to admit. "This week has left you pretty battered. It's taking a toll out on you. Maybe we should do this after you've had a chance to get back on your feet?"

Poison glared at her. If Wilson backed down it would postpone any rescue attempt for David. He would never let the team blindly enter into that type of situation without himself there.

He could not disagree with Heart, but he had developed a degree of pain tolerance. It was something you became accustomed to when you had wings that could instantly sprout from your back. It was a neat trick when you were falling from a seventy-five-story building, but the only catch was that it came neatly wrapped in about thirty seconds of a world of hurt.

"Nobody is doing anything until we have David back!" He gave Poison an assuring glance. "We'll weed through this and see where we are at. Hopefully we can start putting the puzzle together."

The old man had a bit of spirit after all. Poison sighed with relief. But enough was enough. She was restless from the fight, with the waiting, from constantly going in circles and never getting anywhere. She did not waste any more time getting to the point, getting everyone back on track. "What was he screaming? I couldn't catch it. My head was still pounding with that alarm and the personal introduction that I was given with the floor."

Kalide tried to explain. "Initially, that is why I called you down here, Eagledawn. It appears that Squire is trying to break out of his catalepsy. That was the second time he had shot up out of bed. The room's cameras would have recorded the audio. I can find out for sure, re-play the whole scenario for us, but it sounded like he was calling for someone, a name."

"Mandy," Plaza answered their question in his usual soft tone, and then repeated it. "Mandy."

"Does it sound familiar to you, Plaza? Do you recognize the name?" Heart leaned into the table, studying him.

"No," he shook his head slowly, still lost in the sound of the name. "For a moment, I'm sorry, but no."

Squeezing the bridge of his nose between the eyes, Wilson struggled against the thundering in his head. It was not so much the pain anymore; the agony of his body was becoming like having a younger sibling-always there-but something you learn to ignore. What bothered him was this drifting on the ever flowing stream to nowhere. They were grasping at straws with their hoping for some kind of insight to pull Squire free of his condition. He was the only answer in a long string of questions. The key to link them to David or at least that was all they had, and David's life was hanging on a hair thin slice of hope. Plaza had said that Squire would know how to get to the Liegelord, and Kriegen, but was that really the truth, or were they all being played for fools?

"Were you able to discern what, if anything, was said the first time?" Wilson asked Kalide.

Punching keys on the laptop in front of him Kalide said, "It was a string of numbers."

On the far wall behind Wilson two large panels slid away from each other, opening wide enough so the sixty-inch screen concealed behind them was completely exposed. Kalide tapped more keys before looking up at the screen.

"This whole string that you are looking at is the complete sequence that Squire had yelled out." He tapped his keyboard and the chain of numbers broke into another configuration. "I separated it into a repetition of ten digits."

"Ten numbers?" Poison broke in.

"Yes. Squire was up for about ten seconds, screaming non-stop the whole time. When I looked at the room's recording immediately afterwards I wrote down what he had said, and upon closer inspection I noticed that after the tenth digit the numbers repeated themselves. After that the excitement with our surprise guest began, and I have not had the chance to carry it any further."

Kalide was the resident genius. Whatever it was, on some level, he knew it: Chemistry, Biology, Mathematics, Medicine, Computers, Criminology, Psychology, and Engineering-the list carried on and on. None of them knew for sure if it was from years of study and experience, or if a large part of his intelligence was derived from his layers of cybernetic enhancements. Kalide found the answer, that was all that mattered, but in this case Poison knew he was trying to dig too deep. Searching for something that was not there.

"Ten digits," Poison almost laughed. "Look at the screen; it's almost too simple to be obvious."

Nodding, Heart picked up where Poison trailed off. This was one of those rare moments to be cherished. They were both thinking the same thing. "It is obvious that Squire is an adult, but possibly whatever trauma he has endured has reduced him on an emotional level."

"You might want to speed it up. Wilson doesn't look like he can withstand one of your long winded explanations," Poison cut her off. Some moments did not last.

"I'm fine!" Wilson's two words were made all the more believable by the way he grunted.

"Is it not possible that Squire is trying to reach out to someone? I mean like a child he's crying out for help by reciting a phone number," Heart concluded her insight.

"Was that what you were suggesting, Poison?" Wilson looked at her.

"In less words."

"Then we have a name and a phone number," Wilson said. "If it's that simple, and that is what it is, then Plaza and Squire are obviously not who they believe to be."

"And the mystery deepens," Poison whistled.

Kalide stood up. "I can't access everything from here. I'll go to Communications and see what I can pull up, if the name and number match. Personally, I don't think it's that easy, I was going to convert everything to Binary Code to see what that resulted in, but if we explore every avenue..." He froze in mid-sentence.

"What?" Wilson tried to pull himself out of his seat.

"Motion! Outside hall. Moving closer."

They all rose from their seats in unison.

Poison withdrew her crossbow from its holster on her right thigh and loaded a shaft.

By the time he was on his feet subconsciously activated defences had transformed Plaza's chest and stomach to armour. "I knew there couldn't be only one. Hunters never travel alone." Plaza stepped back from the door a few paces.

"Plaza, what can you tell us about this Hunter?" Poison mocked the earlier conversation as she climbed up on the table to re-position herself in a crouch on higher ground. "I don't know! The man says. The fact that there is more doesn't fall under the classification of I-don't-know!"

Fingers and teeth ignored his mental command to transform. He was defenceless. Standing up had almost been enough to knock Wilson out. His hands perched against the table and his arms locked at the elbow he was able to brace himself, but his legs were weak. The painkiller was working. Right effect, wrong time. "How many, Kalide?"

"Only one?"

"Only," Poison scowled. "One of these monsters almost killed us all."

"How close?" Wilson asked.

"Six meters...closer...five," Kalide monitored as he detached a cartridge off his left forearm. Reaching over his shoulder he extracted an oval tube from his arsenal, and fitted the new weapon into the open slot on his arm. The end of a short, soft whine announced that the new cartridge was loaded. The laser had been ineffective during the encounter with the previous Hunter. It was time to change tactics. The oval tube he had implanted in his arm fired a tangling device; small balls that would expand upon contact with an intended target, releasing hundreds of waves of thin, tensile ribbon, in effect mummifying the target. If the previous Hunter could not be stopped with sheer power, then maybe rendering this one immobile would be more effective.

"How are these things getting so far into the building? How has it gotten into the sub-levels without detection?" Wilson asked from behind.

"The last one was invisible to my sensors. The same must go..."

The door rattled.

"Pick your points. Poison and Kalide first," Wilson quickly ordered as they all tensed.

A gloved finger twitched against the trigger of Poison's crossbow.

The door shook against its frame. From the outside of the War Room it would open automatically upon security verification from the sensor outside, anybody with security access was already inside the room. There was another bang as a body slammed against the door. Breaking in was the only option.

Bending his left wrist downward for an unobstructed shot, Kalide braced his left arm with his right.

Another thud rattled the door from the outside of the room.

Pulling her hood down and away from her face, she needed visual contact to impress her emotional coercion; Heart poised her fingertips to her temples waiting for the door to be opened.

Eagledawn ordered. "On my mark, Kalide, issue the override command to open the doors. Everyone prepare to give this thing a welcome it won't ever forget." Wilson nodded to Kalide. "Do it!"

With cybernetic controls, Kalide issued the electronic override. The doors hissed as the magnetic locks disengaged.

They all tensed, preparing to strike.

"No! Everybody stand down!" Kalide leaped in front of them. He had realized just as the door was forced open. It was not a Hunter he was reading on his motion sensor; it was proven earlier that they would not even show up.

Heart was the one to voice the party's thoughts. "Then who?"

In the Med-lab Squire peeled himself off of the ground. Crawling across the cold uncarpeted floor the open-backed hospital gown he was wearing was untied and draped loosely around his body, hanging half-off of his left shoulder. His nose ached, and his vision blurred. Where was he? This was definitely not a hospital. Squire knew that, felt it in the marrow of his bones, but in the back of his mind he struggled with the concept of a hospital. He was not sure that he even knew what a hospital was, but whatever it may be, this was not it.

He used the bed for support and pulled himself up. Everything was so confusing. The only thing he could properly focus on was his sister, Mandy, which was strange because he never even liked her much.

Sister?

Squinting away the blurriness from his vision, Squire surveyed his surroundings. It reminded him of another place...another place. The Liegelord! But he had escaped with John. They had gone so far, been so close, how was it that they were finally captured and he could not remember. His mind was a deep, dark pool-you can't see into its murky depths but you know that something lies under the surface of those waters. Mysterious. Every time he tried to focus on a subject it skimmed across his thoughts, noticeable, recognizable, but out of reach of comprehension. Squire felt like a stranger to himself. The conflicting memories of two lives melding into each other, and leaving him lost.

He had to move. The ache along his nose and brow, added with the red blotch on the glass door, was enough evidence to remind him to go slower this time. The way he was staggering across the room proved that slower was not going to be a big issue. Letting go of the security of the bed and its support, Squire reminded himself that the important thing was finding John. That, and not falling on his face.

His legs would barely carry him and Squire ended up stumbling into the glass of the door regardless of his determination. There was no handle on the double door. He pushed and pulled, tried to pry the two parts away from each other, but it was hopeless. He was trapped. Out of frustration he begged the inanimate object with a final attempt for freedom from the room. "OPEN!"

Surprisingly, the doors slid apart, and Squire fell into the hall.

Holding the wall he slowly made his way, step by step, down the hallway. Over his shoulder was the nagging thought that he was going the wrong way, but he went forward, bare feet sliding one after the other? There was the whisper of voices ahead, and he could only hope that one of them would be John.

In the War Room they were all surprised to find the answer to Heart's question. It was Squire, clutching the doorframe for dear life. Dried blood was caked around his nostrils and mouth, hair tussled in a matted sweat, and the open blue gown was pursuing the task of undressing itself, half off now, leaving his back completely exposed.

There was one recognizable face in the group of strangers.

"John!"

They all looked towards Plaza. John?

"John, answer me, please," Squire begged.

Plazas gave no recognition of the name.

"Where are we?" Squire's tone became more desperate. "Who are you people?"

"It's okay, let's take this slow," Wilson was the first to break out of the stunned silence. "We're your friends."

"Like Hell! I'm not going back," Squire's legs trembled. He was so hungry, famished. How could he escape again when he could barely walk? "What have you done with John?" He knew exactly what.

"Squire, there is no reason to be afraid," Plaza stepped forward. "We made it. These people helped us escape Kriegen. We're free of the Liegelord."

"Liegelord? Kriegen?"

"Yes. Don't you remember? You told me we had to run, that we didn't belong. You were hurt, and you've been asleep for over two days."

Plaza's words trailed off in Squire's ears. Remember?

Liegelord.

Kriegen.

Mandy.

Remember? It was all coming back in little pieces. A collage of two separate lives. Tears from the wells of confusion and frustration accumulated in his eyes, and the emptiness of his belly heaved up in his throat. "John, what did they do to us?"

That was it. He was gone. Passed out, and falling to the floor.

"Catch him!" Kalide shouted when he noticed the first sign of Squire's pending collapse.

Plaza was at his friend's side before Kalide had finished. Catching the unconscious body and lifting him up. "What is wrong with him?"

"Hopefully, Plaza, I'll have an answer soon," Kalide said before turning to Wilson. "I'm taking Squire back to Med-Lab, and then I'll be in communications working on our leads."

"Let us know," Wilson's words followed Plaza's and Kalide's exit. Then he fell back in his chair.

"That's enough," Heart declared. "I'm taking you down to four and putting you on bed rest."

By four she meant the fourth sub-level where everyone had private living quarters.

"I was thinking the exact same thing, Heart, but I expect to be awakened the moment Kalide finds something."

"Any deal will do if it's going to convince you to get some rest," Heart said as she began helping him to his feet.

Being the only one left in the War Room, Poison watched them leave, and then swiveled in her chair so she faced the screen that was still displaying the sequence of numbers. Poison committed the ten-digit repetition to memory and ran out of the War Room.

"Sub-level four," Poison barked once inside the elevator.

The elevators connecting the sub-levels were lighted in contrast to the darkness of Wilson's private one, but the green stream of phosphorescence was still slightly visible. The computer ran its security check every time the elevator was used, supposedly a needed precaution, but for Poison it was more often than not an irritating delay. The identity verification had not been completed by the time the elevator reached its destination.

"Identification positive, Poison, access to sub-level four cleared."

"Save the speech and open the door," Poison's impatience argued with the computer voice.

Running down the hall she undid the buckles of her crossbow holster, catching it as the holster slid from her thigh in mid-step. Her mouth moved in silent speech, repeating the numbers over in her mind so they would not be forgotten, or their order rearranged in a lapsed thought. Next came the three quivers, one over each shoulder blade, the third on her left leg. Loosening the straps she would be able to let them drop to the floor once in her room.

The door would not open.

She turned the knob and heaved into it.

The door did not budge.

She was really beginning to hate this place.

Poison looked around, and realized the stupidity that was caused by her haste.

It was another nerve scratching delay. She had to place her palm flat on the small sensor. The doors were locked shut by magnetic moorings, and a positive identity match was needed to unlock the door. The little screen beamed green.

Once in her private quarters she grabbed a notepad and pen from one of the drawers in the kitchenette and wrote down the ten numbers. On top of them she added the name Squire had called out-Mandy!

Poison was not about to sit back and wait while Kalide played with all his computers, running a myriad of configurations, checking every angle, and inspecting every niche. Kalide was thorough, but that precision took precious time. No, Poison's idea was better, short and sweet, and if it did not pan out, fine! But she was willing to bet her life on it being this simple.

Poison picked up the phone and input the ten numbers. It rang, and rang, and rang.

"C'mon," she muttered into the mouthpiece of the handset.

"Hello?" A skeptic, young woman's voice crawled through the connection.

"Mandy?" Poison asked. It was blunt, straight to the point. David did not have time for caution or subtly.

"Who is this?" The voice on the other end sounded scared.

"Is this Mandy?"

"Depending on whom you are. What do you want?"

"Look! I don't have time for games. If you answer my question, a simple yes or no, I'll answer yours, deal?"

"Yes."

"Are you Mandy or not?"

"Yes."

Poison smiled to herself. One question! Kalide would be playing with his fancy technological devices, chasing shadows, and all she had to do was pick up the phone. So easy!

"I don't know how to say this delicately, so I'll be blunt, okay?" Poison tried to prepare Mandy for what might either seem strange or horrible news.

"What?"

"Do you have a brother?"

"OH MY GOD!" The girl's voice shrieked out of the receiver forcing Poison to pull the handset away from her ear. "Do you know where my brother is?"

Obviously that translated into a yes.

"He's her with me."

"And who are you? What have you done with him? Why was he dressed up so strange?" The connected list ran on, a steady stream of questions that were voiced without pause for breath.

"My name is Lea..."

"Lea, hi! I'm Mandy."

"I know," Poison bit her tongue. The girl could rant. "My friends and I found your brother..."

"Where?"

Poison shot a full dose of patience into her arm. "Hold on." She paused, thinking. "You just asked why your brother was dressed so strange, have you seen him recently?"

"Yes, yes. I didn't recognize him at first. I mean, God, the whole family thought he was dead. We never said anything to Mom, but how the hell was I supposed to recognize...I never expected to see him again...we all had our hopes, but after two years. Finally it dawned on me though. God! It seems like more than a week ago. The time, so fast. What a night that was, just a few days ago. Some madman attacked me, and this other guy, you wouldn't believe it, which is why I haven't called the cops yet. I was going to, but the phone rang. Anyways, this monster is about to kill me and this guy..."

Poison chewed on two tablets of tolerance, grinding them between her teeth. The girl had to stop for a breath soon. She had to, for Poison's sake.

"...He saved me. He was wearing a black trench coat and..."

David?

In her mind Poison pictured the pieces of a puzzle quickly lining up and snapping into place. From the description she was listening to it was obvious that David had been the one to save her, and if Mandy had met Squire then that could explain why he was calling out to her.

"...He looked so awful. I thought he was dead," for a moment Mandy was silent. "Brian has been missing for two years. Did I tell you that? Please don't tell me you're calling me because he's dead. Not after all this time of wondering, please!" She was on the verge of tears.

"He's alive, Mandy, but sick. Comatose."

"Oh, God-no!"

Poison pulled the phone away from her ear just in time to miss the piercing of that one.

"It's okay. Physically he's fine."

"Two years," Mandy trailed off in the thought. "Where has he been all this time?"

"That's why I need your help."

"Okay, okay."

Poison could hear her drawing in a deep, calming breath. "I'll come. I want to help."

"It might be better if I picked you up," Poison said.

Pulling the door to her room closed, Poison was greeted by Heart. She was coming down the main hall, white cloak seductively dancing behind her, obviously from Wilson's room. Poison slipped a small piece of paper into her pocket. It was where she had noted Mandy's address.

"He's finally getting some rest," Heart said.

"We should all be so lucky," Poison turned to her and attempted a weak smile. After years of training she suddenly felt like a schoolgirl again. Secretly trying to hide the love letter that had just been passed to her, or she guessed that was how it must have felt like. When she was young there were not too many notes coming her way. She casually rested her hand in the pocket, assuring herself the piece of paper was still there. Her nervousness was because she always felt weary around Heart, wondering if possibly her ability to taint emotions allowed her to read more of people than she let on. Bringing Mandy here was Poison's own little secret. None of them would condone it, but she knew it was the best chance for bringing Squire back into this mire called reality. The girl, Mandy, was going to be David's salvation. She had to be, she was Poison's only playable card.

They were face to face now. Heart had transcended the short distance before Poison could even toy with the notion of escape.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you earlier, honestly," Heart said.

"Nothing to beat yourself up over."

"It was a good call; hopefully Kalide can find some answers now."

"My fingers are crossed," she hated this, hated being so close, so friendly to Heart. What was she after? Kalide was fishing, searching for the answer to a riddle in a riddle. Poison had the solution, and it was neatly tucked in her pocket, calling to her-let's go, let's go.

"Want to join me in the Playpen?" Heart asked.

The training center had earned the nickname "Playpen" because of its virtual holographic images. Practically any scenario could be downloaded into the facilities mainframe and "played out". The Playpen was where the team re-enacted previous encounters to learn from their mistakes, or ran any and every scenario that could be imagined to prepare them for a darker tomorrow.

The Playpen was Poison's second home; constantly training to develop her body and mind to its peak. She preferred to train alone though, that way she could disengage the failsafe. Without them on there was the possibility she could be killed when simply training in the Playpen, but that was how she liked it. Real. Dangerous. It made her push herself all the harder.

"No, thanks, I've had my four hour tour for the day."

"Four hours?" Heart was amazed. In shock.

"I thought I'd give myself a break today, considering."

"Four hours?" It was still sinking in. That long, every day, of constant physical torture. "Are you a glutton for punishment, or what? I mean I like to stay in shape, on top of things, but..."

"Usually it's more."

And the truth was told. Not only did Poison have a heart of stone, but it was a stubborn, crazy, determined one at that.

"Well, where are you going now?"

Nosey bitch! Raced to her lips, but was reigned in at the last second. "Personal stuff."

"Want company, or do you need a hand?" Heart offered. She wanted to bridge the gap with Poison. There had never been any reason to treat each other as if they were enemies.

"Never had before, why should today be any different?" Ice Queen extraordinaire!

"Ever the rogue agent, Poison?" Heart stormed away wondering why she had even bothered.

Admittedly, Heart could bite back when provoked, but it was not something that would affect Poison. She was gone, that was all that mattered. The means to the end was irrelevant.

The garage was on the first sub-level. Poison jumped in a black BMW. She preferred a vehicle that could withstand the abuse she often had to dish out. With the turn of the key the ignition fired up, and she tramped on the gas pedal. The vehicle tore through the underground access tunnel that ascended to street level four blocks away from Stardawn Enterprises.

After hanging up the phone, Mandy ran to the bathroom. Bracing her arms on the edge of the toilet's plastic seat she threw up.

She stared down at the results of her effort, which was mostly liquid escorted by a few chunks from something she had filled her stomach with yesterday. She had not had the time, or the appetite. To eat anything this morning, so Mandy was mostly rewarded with the sour taste of bile burning in her throat.

She wiped the excess dribble off her chin with the back of her hand, and turned towards the mirror.

The phone call and dispensing the insides of her stomach into the toilet confirmed her suspicion. Brian was alive! He was trying to come home! And that horrible night had been real! Then her bowels reminded her that they were still in need of their morning release.

The world was not as sane as she pretended it to be.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Silence.

Unblinking eyes staring straight.

Head hanging limply.

Chin draped on chest.

Familiar heavy breathing was heard.

A Caregiver approached, shoved a needle into his chest, and injected a yellow liquid.

He stared.

Watching.

The vial was emptied into him.

The needle rudely withdrawn.

He waited.

Anticipating.

The spark of his beating heart ignited the yellow liquid.

His blood was on fire, scorching its way through his body.

David smiled.

This was almost becoming fun.

It was so simple.

The Liegelord lay back on the examination table so the Caregivers could prep him for surgery.

So simple!

They had cloned the heart of the immortal. A perfect replica of that ever-beating muscle, and now that undying heart was going to be placed in his powerful chest. This was all the Liegelord had ever wanted, ultimate power.

The devastation he would be able to create living forever.

"And I will be next?" Kriegen asked before the Caregivers administered the anesthetic.

"You will be the first of my immortal soldiers, faithful one," Liege lord answered. "Soon we will all live forever." He would create an army of deathless souls, every last one of them, even the wretched serfs. God was nothing. His followers, the Liegelord's domain, would be the one and only kingdom to survive the Armageddon he would initiate. A new world ruled by a new lord.

The Caregivers buzzed around the Liegelord's body. Failure was not an option. Failure would mean death.

Kriegen watched as the anesthetic pulled Liegelord into a painless state. He could not help but wonder, and contemplate, who would be king if the Liegelord were not to survive?

The surgery began.

Liegelord's heart transplant was underway.

The more he thought about it the stranger it seemed. He had never seen his father since that day; neither had his mother or Stephanie. They had heard nothing from him, or of him, all these years. The same went for Joseph. Nothing. Vanished. On the same fateful day and at the same time.

Not that he was complaining mind you.

David's father had promised them that if he left they were on their own, and father had always kept his promises.

David's thoughts continued to swirl around that day. It had been the catalyst in his life. Throat slashed by his own father, sister raped and beaten to near death by his brother.

In more ways than one David had died that day.

That critical day was the first time David tasted death, definitely not the last, but he wondered if the events of that morning had been a little different, taken a slightly divergent spin on the wheel of life, where would he be today?

He may have lived, been living, a normal life?

David would still be with his mother and Stephanie, instead of running from their love. All this time he had spent running!

In a morose, perverse, kind of way it was almost funny. Being held captive had given him time to think, to understand, to remember, to feel again.

Being bound and tormented on this personal cross forced him to face things, everything. He was not able to avoid, or hide from, his emotions here. In here, he had been forced to entomb himself in his memories and feelings. It was the only means of escape from the physical mutilation and mental degradation he was suffering.

His life had dumped him this harrowing scenario because of one reason, his father. The Storm.

The same way he would as a child, hiding under the covers in his bed, as the storm raged during any of the countless nights, David whispered three words under his breath. "I hate you."

"Do it," Liegelord ordered. The operation had been a success. The cloned heart of the immortal was now beating from behind his breast. Liegelord could feel the energy, new life, flow through his body.

"Do it," Liegelord demanded a second time as he glared at the Chief Caregiver. "It is the only way to know for sure. I have to have proof, and I'm the only test subject."

From his watchful perch Kriegen's warped face toyed with a wicked grin. There was only one way to know if the cloned heart really held the key to everlasting life.

They had to kill their Liege!

Pure.

Nobody had been inside David's magic room for, what? Maybe days? He had been left alone, left to heal outside of the watchful eyes of his persecutors, and now he was whole again. Maybe they did not know it would happen this quickly, maybe they believed he would be incapacitated for longer?

Completely healed, David mustered every iota of strength into his best possible opportunity for escape. This much was true! He was not going anywhere fast. It was a futile struggle. He tried everything. After two exhausting hours there was still no escape.

Maybe they had left him to rot?

Regardless of what they had planned for him he felt rejuvenated, born again. Almost! There was the scar tissue that ran in streamers across and down his physique, decorating him with reminders of his trials here.

It was not over. David felt the revelation shiver inside his brain. This was a reprieve, but it was not over.

It would be a controlled and stringently monitored murder. The Chief Caregiver thrust a needle past the thick hide of the Liegelord's right arm, injecting the same vile, yellow liquid that had previously been administered to David. They had monitored the young immortal, timing how long it had taken him to crawl out of the pit of death. If the Liegelord did not come back to life within the same allotted window, the Caregivers were prepared to resuscitate him immediately.

Kriegen paced around them. Watching, ensuring that the Liegelord's life was not lost forever to the Caregiver's incompetence. They had botched certain procedures before, Squire being the most recent and significant example. The Lord believed in their abilities, but Kriegen held a different opinion.

There was a flatline accompanied by a constant, stagnant tone from one of the machines.

Kriegen chuckled to himself.

The moment was at hand.

The Liegelord was dead.

Long live the King?

The Chief Caregiver watched the Liegelord's corpse, searching for any sign.

Four minutes floated away. Under the same test the immortal prisoner's heart had begun beating again after three minutes and fourty-seven seconds. Consciousness had been regained somewhere around the four and a half minute mark.

This scenario had overplayed itself. The Chief scanned his Liege's body for a sign of rejuvenation, and found nothing positive. He looked up at the faces around the room.

"Give him some more time," Kriegen ordered in a soft tone.

The monitor continued to drone out its death knell. The Chief Caregiver's head shook back and forth. "It we wait any longer the Liegelord could suffer permanent damage from the lack of oxygen to his brain."

"If? He is immortal now," Kriegen spoke.

One of the Caregivers panicked and grabbed the defibrillator paddles, placing them on the Lord's chest with the hope of jumpstarting the heart.

A telekinetic bolt shoved him across the room before the paddles shock could be transferred, the robed body crunched into the wall.

"I said we wait!" Kriegen growled.

Liegelord had been pronounced dead five minutes and ten seconds ago.

"I cannot allow this to go any further. The risk is too great," The Chief said.

"You said this was the answer, replicating the heart. You promised the Liegelord immortality. I want to see the truth to your claim."

"I promised nothing. There were no assurances," the Chief wheeled on Kriegen. "The transplant took. The Lord's body didn't reject the heart. It was a perfect clone. By every right our Liege should be immortal."

"But still he lies, unmoving," Kriegen finished the thought. "Wait!"

"In the name of the Lord! We could lose him forever!"

"Our Lord new the risks, but I can see how your shameful consternation would want to push your hand," Kriegen mocked as he walked towards the room's door. "Do as you will."

This was on the Caregiver's shoulders, Kriegen knew better than to be anywhere near the fools when Liegelord realized the procedure had failed.

The robed figures moved about the room in a flurry, hustling to induce their Lord's resurrection.

Because of the nine Caregivers that had attended the operation their Liegelord was able to rise from the dead. The silence that clung to their dark robes uttered the unified thought; because of them he was unable to return to life under his own power. They were all doomed.

"And?" It was the only word he spoke upon obtaining coherency.

"I'm sorry, no," the Chief answered solemnly.

Failure meant death.

They had surely failed.

The screams of the nine painted their echo along the halls of the hidden nation.

The fury of his massacre sent their blood and limbs on a rampant journey of separation.

He was their Liegelord, and his will was evoked onto the nine in a slaughter.

Thundering down the maelstrom of tunnels that riddled the mountain's cavity the Liegelord could barely contain his anger. He had been so close. It had seemed so simple. The taste of undying power still teased his tongue.

How dare he? Did that insolent immortal not know? Had he not yet learned? The Liegelord would not be denied. The secret would be his.

Powerful arms thrust themselves against the door.

He would not be denied.

He could not be stopped.

The crash snapped David awake.

Stampeding across the room the Liegelord's face was contorted in rage and painted in a jigsaw pattern with the blood of the nine.

Every muscle in David's body tensed, but there was no defence, no sane way to expect what would come next.

"You think you've suffered?" He plunged his fist into David's chest cavity and extracted the still beating heart.

David gasped an instant death.

"This is only the beginning!" The Liegelord snarled before sinking his teeth into the aorta.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN

She pulled onto the street and lifted her foot from the gas pedal, allowing the vehicle to coast past the house of Mandy Welder.

Everything looked normal, but Poison had played the game for far too long to put her faith solely in appearances. She drove down the street and turned right; placing herself in the cul-de-sac that emptied into the street she had just turned off of.

Poison depressed the trunk release button situated by the side of the driver's seat. Stepping out of the car she walked casually to the rear of the vehicle, and lifted the unlatched trunk while surveying the small ringlet of houses. Regardless of the fact that it was the middle of the day, and the sun itself was shining in all its glory amidst the sea of ocean blue sky, Poison reached into the compartment and pulled out an overcoat she kept stored within. The heat was overwhelming already, but she slid it on regardless. It was a necessity to conceal her outfit and weaponry; otherwise she was a stark contrast to the picket fences and stucco of suburbia.

She would recon the back first. Even though the girl seemed genuine, Poison had seen too many things throughout her life and they all had left her mistrusting. The amount of variables that could affect any situation made her cautious, maybe neurotically so, but that was why she was still here today, standing on her own two feet, relying on nobody but herself.

As she darted into the alleyway, Poison lightly chuckled, skin-tight leather and crossbows were not considered suitable attire for around these parts, and skulking around backyards was an unknown behaviour.

She continuously surveyed her surroundings, there were usually too many prying eyes in this kind of pristine neighbourhood.

With her back against Mandy Welder's fence she checked the area one more time for any nosey neighbours with heads dangling over backyard fences or their face pressed against on-looking windows. Satisfied; Poison was up and over the fence in a blink, her climb and landing hidden by the soft chirp of unseen birds, and her the silent cat.

Simply put, Mandy was scared. On the verge of becoming freaked-out terrified. The woman who called was on her way, but Mandy could barely move to get ready without jumping out of her skin. She had a Guinness book of world records shower, which left her feeling dirtier rather than cleaner, too afraid to close her eyes, she did not even wash her hair because she would have to rinse it out, and try as hard as you can that ultimately led to the eyelids coming together. Darkness.

After the shower, as she headed back down the upstairs hall to her bedroom she pulled her hair back and trapped it with an elastic forming a ponytail. She pulled on a pair of jeans and rummaged for a shirt. In the end she decided on a white button-up blouse. Her other sweaters and such had to pulled over the head and that would mean darkness, however momentary. She was becoming paranoid, almost too afraid to blink, and her shoes were in the closet. What the hell had made her decide to put them there?

Poison had landed amidst the concealment of a thicket of trees and bushes. The backyard to the Welder house was quite large. The back was lined with trees and shrubs. Various flowers were tucked in the extensive beds that ran along the fence line to the patio. Someone here liked to garden, and had spent vast amounts of time grooming and maintaining the green expanse. Until recently! The grass was too long, not by much, but Poison guessed that it had not been mowed in over a week. The patio furniture was askew, and weeds had begun their invasion of the flower beds which seemed uncharacteristic for someone who had taken time developing and preening the outlay.

Everything seemed quiet enough. The blinds to the house were open, revealing nothing but the ordinary inside. She could see the girl, Mandy; through another window on the second floor, but it was the small basement window that made her uneasy. It appeared to be covered from the inside with something black. Paint maybe? But it was definitely not blinds or curtains.

She had noticed something else strange. Poison withdrew a small telescope from a sheath on the side of her quiver and extended it to its full five inch length. There! The grass was long from not being cut, and had obviously not been walked on, but close to the pavement of the patio was a light depression. A fistful of blades had been pressed flat and were halfway to completing their journey of standing erect again. A footprint?

Poison collapsed the compact magnifier and returned it to its holster. It was then that she noticed an indentation in the dirt next to where she knelt. This was definitely a footprint, and larger than hers. Something was not right! There was someone else!

Backing out of the closet with shoes in hand, Mandy paused. The room was bright with the open curtains and the sun streaming freely through the windows, but not bright enough. The light was off!

Burnt out? She moved to the switch on the wall by the bedroom door and flipped it up and down. Nothing!

Peeking her head through the doorway she was disappointed to discover the hall light was out also.

"Oh, crap!" Mandy whispered. Uneasiness quivered through her like a million tiny centipede feet trampling over her skin.

The light of day was bright enough in the house to stave off a fully panicked episode of her newly reenergized phobia, but she needed those 100 watt glass bulbs, hanging over her head, to be burning. The lights told her she was okay. She was safe.

Mandy made her way down to the main floor, playing with the light switches she encountered along her journey. Up-down. Up-down. They were all out.

"This is not good, not good at all," Mandy muttered her way into the kitchen at the back of the house.

She grabbed a flashlight from the back of the pantry cupboard. "Must be a fuse, just blew a fuse is all. Flip the switch on the fuse box in the basement. All the way down in the basement."

Mandy grabbed the knob of the basement door, but paused to check the flashlight.

"Oh, c'mon," the beam was a soft faded yellow. The batteries were almost dead. She eased the door open and the darkness wafted up the stairs towards her. She quickly pushed the door shut.

"I am not going down there," she muttered, but she had to, the lights had to be turned on again. She encouraged herself, "Just make it quick, Mandy, down the stairs, to the left, flip the switch."

The knob turned with a twist of her wrist, and she slowly pulled the door outward towards herself.

"Hello?" She whispered down into the basement, praying for no response.

"Hello!" A voice called out in answer from somewhere; down there?

With choreographed execution, Mandy dropped the flashlight, jumped back, and slammed the door closed again, all at the same time.

Another hello entered the kitchen followed by a woman.

"Mandy? I'm Lea. We spoke earlier about your brother."

"You scared the hell out of me!" Mandy confessed while clutching at her heart, trying to soothe the pounding muscle back to a steady beat.

"So I see."

"Don't you knock, or use a doorbell, or are you in the habit of just waltzing into people's houses unannounced?"

"In this case," Poison looked past the girl to the basement. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, except for the heart attack you just about gave me, and the lights are out-I hate when that happens-so the basement. I was going to the basement to check the fuse."

"Anything else strange you might have noticed?" Poison questioned.

"You mean besides you, my morning, my brother, the other night, and the fact that I'm scared to death?" Mandy gave an uneasy laugh. "Nope, nothing, nothing at all. It's all ducky. Yup! Ducky."

Withdrawing her crossbow, Poison pushed past Mandy and opened the basement door.

"The fuse box..." Mandy began.

"Shhh!" Poison cut her off. She stood at the top of the landing, searching the shadows below, listening.

She quickly retreated and softly shut the door again. "Okay, let's go."

"Sure, I'll just..."

"No, now! Let's go!" Poison gave the girl a gentle shove as she backed away from the door.

"What's going on?"

If Poison's instincts were right, they were about to be in a whole lot of trouble. They had to hurry.

A muffled thump came from the basement.

Instincts, bingo! "No more talking, just move, out the house."

The Liegelord had sent only one, but Hunters never travelled alone.

The scent was extremely faint here, old, but the Hunter's heightened senses were never wrong. It was obviously a long time ago, but the Squire had been here, so it had been waiting for the concealment of nightfall to resume the hunt. Resting and listening to the strange one in the upper floors.

And now there was another, whispering, the sound of a door opening, light from above, the creek of a hinge as the door was slowly pushed closed again.

It moved out of the shadows and craned its neck, listening, and sniffing. The one that had peered down into the bowels of this structure left something behind dangling in the air. It lifted its nose again, yes; it was the odour of the hunters mate, and the scent of the Squire and Plaza. She had been in contact, the circles were tightening.

Outside standing on the front lawn of her house, staring out at an empty street, Mandy asked, "Where's your car?"

"Down the block," Poison answered and turned back to face the house. In the basement there had been a shift in the darkness below, ever so slight, and now she was sure she had heard something. A noise muffled by the walls, but definitely something. "Follow me."

"But I have to lock the door?"

"It's too late," she grabbed Mandy's arm pulling her.

The girl was like a four year old with her constant banter and questions, questions, questions. "Hurry." Poison called back over her shoulder. "For the moment you are going to have to trust me!"

Trust her?

"The front and back doors were locked when you got here and just invited yourself in." The doors were locked, Mandy was positive.

"I know"

Mandy stopped and stared after her. "Okay, just so you know!" She shook her head, what the hell was she getting into, and continued her pursuit of the woman who obviously broke into her house, carried a weapon in broad daylight, wearing a trench coat on a hot summer's day.

"So," Mandy panted as they arrived at the car, "Paranoid much?"

"Something or someone was in your house." Poison detailed as she lifted the trunk, and tossed her coat in.

"I didn't hear anything."

"In the basement. If you had gone there like you were about to, you would have found out, the hard way."

Mandy looked at her. The darkness down there held something. She shivered from the inside out. "In that case, let's go." Mandy demanded.

"Just a second, I just want to see...."

"No-no! Let's go now. You make me run here and now you are going to just stand around and wait for it?" It, she thought to herself, one of the nightmares. She realized that she was still shaking.

"Get in the car!" Poison ordered as she gave Mandy a gentle push in the right direction.

"Stay. Go. Wait. Get in. Indecisive or what?" Mandy ranted as she walked around to the passenger's side of the BMW.

Poison watched the house a few seconds longer from her position, half in and half out of the driver's side.

They were moving now, pulling away from the curb.

"Jesus, I can't believe that this is happening." Mandy's shivering seemed to become uncontrollable.

The girl is going to fall apart, Poison thought to herself. "Be strong."

'Be strong?" With a puzzled expression, Mandy stared at the driver, only having a clear view of her right profile. "What are you some kind of 'Terminator', all hyped on estrogen?"

Poison bit her lip. The girl was extremely agitating, constantly annoying, but it was, in a way, so innocent that it made her likeable, attractive. "I just meant to try to keep it together."

"Keep it together?" Mandy repeated her statement with a shrill tone, shaking her head. "Keep it together."

She stared out the passenger's side window watching life slip by. "My brother had been missing for two years. We thought that he was dead. The police told us to expect as much, not to get our hopes up. I kind of came to accept that, but my parents never have, they believed. And then one night I see my brother and he is dressed up like....like...," She was half sobbing with her words now. "Then two seconds later I am attacked by some puke bag of flesh and muscle, my body does not know whether to wretch or scream, as he is about to chew my fucking neck off." Breathe. Breathe. "Then some other guy comes to save me, and I don't know what's going on, but I am free and my head is still attached, which is a good thing." She breathed, sniffled, and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Not that I would ever admit, or openly tell, but I am afraid of the dark. Afraid is actually too light a word. I get shit assed scared, I am talking serious phobias levels, and you walk into my house, telling me that there really are monsters under the stairs. Nightmares are real and I am petrified." She stopped and turned to face Poison. "He's been gone so long, but now I know that my brother is alive. I can't get a hold of my parents. I don't have a clue what is going on....so if you can understand, I find it a bit of a challenge to keep it together!" her voice raised sharply at the end.

"You can cry."

"Really?" Mandy stared numbly. "Gee, that would be alright with you, I have your permission?"

"Go ahead."

And she did. Mandy buried her face into her hands and fell apart. She bawled.

Poison pressed her foot a little harder against the gas pedal.

The girl was young, scared, and Poison was able to understand, although it was hard to comprehend. By the time she would have reached her age, Poison had already lived through hell and had developed the strength and steeled herself to withstand life's hardships.

Obviously they had grown up in two very different worlds.

Of course, there was that one time she had let her guard down, letting herself get emotionally attached to someone else. He had betrayed her, practically devastating her in her new vulnerability, she had survived only because pain had been an all too familiar acquaintance throughout her life. That had happened once, and it would not happen again.

David! The name echoed against her resolve. David!

The girl was alone in this experience. She needed comfort. Something tangible. Poison reached over, wrapped her arm around Mandy's shoulders pulling her close.

Mandy accepted the invitation and buried her face in Poison's shoulder. Now she cried uncontrollably.

Poison drove a little faster.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Finally!

Why he had not done this earlier was a mystery!

He had been too wrapped up in passively interrogating Plaza and too feverish in his endeavours to improve Squire's condition to think of it. Before their meeting, Kalide had run various tests through the system. Linking up to the different government agencies, fingerprints had not retrieved any matches in the Canadian or United States' databases, and there had not been any reports to the authorities to lead him to anything in regards to Squire's and Kalide's origins or identities. He had been running a visual comparison on missing persons when the opportunity was available, but that was a slow process that thus far had proven fruitless, but now here it was.

Two young men's faces filled the computer screen with statistics of height, weight and age listed beside them.

Following Heart and Poison's assumption that what Squire was repeating in his frenzied mantra was a phone number, coupled with Squire bursting in on them in a panicked confusion as he called Plaza, John, and solidified the fact that the two strangers were not exactly who they thought they were.

For the past hour and a half he had been working feverishly at the computer in the communications room, rummaging through out the net, tapping into police records, missing persons...

Poison sped through the streets and avenues aiming for Stardawn Enterprises, she blocked out the girls crying and focused on the road before her.

Once Mandy had been able to reassert control of her emotions her mouth began motoring again. "So where are we going then?"

"To our secret headquarters."

"Ours?" Mandy raised an eyebrow. "There's more of you?"

Poison briefly turned to her and allowed a brief hint of a smile to pass her lips. "A few more."

"So does that mean you are going to blind fold me?"

"Nope, I figure I am going to have to trust you."

Mandy stared at her for a moment, trust? That was at the very least considering she was whisked away in a frenzy of fear and emotion, and was the one sitting with a stranger in a car going god knows where, and she had left without notifying anyone. Technically she had just disappeared with some woman and nobody else knew. A small bead of sweat slid down her spine as Mandy realized she may have just stepped into a big pile of it.

Fear and excitement, two emotions that counterbalanced each other on opposite ends of the spectrum, both of them elicited the same response in Mandy Welder when that adrenaline began to pour into her system, she rambled.

"So what are you? Some secret government agency or something? Sasquatch hunters? Anti-terrorist?"

Here we go, Poison thought, steeling herself for this next onslaught.

"Cold case...F.B.I...Missing Persons...."

She would have preferred to still be enduring the tears.

"Something like that, without the government affiliation or restrictions," she managed to get an answer in.

Steering the car into an alleyway she accelerated. "Hold on."

The alley was capped by a building, no way out, a dead end, and the crazy woman was going faster. Mandy stared at the encroaching wall, then at her driver and back at the wall again.

"Uhm..." Mandy was pointing forward with one hand and checking to ensure her seatbelt was tight with the other. "There's a wall!" The mad lady driver wasn't slowing down. "There's a wall!" She pointed out again, a little louder.

"Just hold on," was all she was told.

"Shit!" Mandy exclaimed as she braced herself, one hand on the dashboard, the other holding the roll handle above the door. "Please don't kill me, please don't kill me, please don't kill me!"

Back in the Med-Lab with Heart and Eagledawn as an audience, Kalide held up two sheets of paper that he had printed from the Missing Person's records and announced triumphantly. "Brian Welder, and John Huntington. Both missing persons for approximately twenty-four months now; last known to be hiking in the Rockies they never returned to their families, vanished, until now of course."

"And they themselves don't even know who they are? Plaza acts like he has no recollection of being somebody else," Wilson said.

"But I think Squire, this Brian, was beginning to remember!" Kalide stated.

"They were trying to come home," Heart said as she moved closer to Squire's bedside and looked down at him.

"And the whole way they were being hunted. Wherever, or whoever they were running from obviously didn't want them escaping, or remembering," Wilson said.

"I can only feel fear," Heart touched Squire's hand. So lost and confused.

"Should I bring in Plaza and tell him, he is not who he thinks he is?" Kalide suggested.

"No, I think he has a feeling, but I also think for now it might confuse him more. And let's keep a lid on this, no outside help. We still have David to consider," Wilson ordered.

Kalide made ready to leave the Med-lab. "I'll refocus my search around the Rockies, it's the only other lead."

He turned back towards the door only to find the way blocked.

Hands covering her face, Mandy slowly peeked between her fingers. They hadn't smashed into the oncoming wall like she had feared.

"Where exactly are we?" Hands still covering her face, her muffled voice questioned.

From behind her splayed fingers it looked like they were in a dimly lit tunnel, the car's headlights echoing off the surrounding walls, creating an eerie glow. A subdued darkness.

"That wall we passed through was a doorway, a garage door, masked by holographic projectors, and we are now in a tunnel that runs about four blocks to a sub-basement of one of the downtown buildings." Poison explained. "Ever heard of the corporation Stardawn Enterprises?"

"No, should I have," Mandy responded as her hands slid a little down her face, but not all the way, the tunnel outside her passenger side window held the blackness. What if the car broke down? What if the headlights burnt out? What if the already dim tunnel lights fizzled? Panic was setting in as she felt the darkness get deeper, heavier.

"The cabin light, please," Mandy requested behind clenching teeth as she slid deeper into her seat.

Poison flipped the knob on the dash board and the interior of the car was illuminated. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Mandy smiled into the light. "It's the dark, darkness makes me uncomfortable."

Uncomfortable, the girl looked like she was totally frightened. This one was just full of surprises.

Poison continued. "It's irrelevant if you have heard of Stardawn or not, but our headquarters are housed beneath it, and that is where your brother is."

"The magic door? Hidden tunnels? Secret headquarters buried underneath a building downtown, are you shitting me?" Mandy whistled. "Like in some movie or something?"

"Mandy," Poison said as she slowed the vehicle, their trip was almost at an end as they entered the sub-level parking garage. "There is a lot of weird shit that goes on in this world and most people live their lives oblivious to it." Poison stopped the car and entered the gear shift into park. "But you, my dear, have just been thrown into the thick of it."

For once, Mandy found herself speechless as she stared open-mouthed at the woman beside her.

"C'mon, let's go visit your brother," Poison beckoned as she began exiting the vehicle.

Exiting the Med-Lab and entering the hall, Kalide came to an abrupt stop as he found himself face to face with Poison and a young woman.

"What the hell?" He muttered in surprise.

"What the hell!" Mandy screamed at the same time and jumped back in fear.

"It's okay," Poison affirmed as she grabbed the girl to steady her.

"What happened to you?" Mandy asked of Kalide, unable to comprehend what was standing right in front of her.

Heart and Eagledawn came out of the Med-Lab to investigate the commotion. Both of them were obvious in their surprise at seeing the stranger.

It must have been the combination of lack of sleep, fear, and excitement, Mandy's world was spinning way too fast. Finding her brother, being amongst these people, but mostly it was the shocking appearance of the man-machine-cyborg-thingy. The way the skin attached to the metal, the raw, scarred skin as if it had healed over the metal to create a seamless meld. She felt her stomach lurch, most of his face had been replaced by machine, and her stomach twirled with a pirouette.

"Who is this?" Wilson started.

"This is Mandy Welder," Poison introduced.

At least this one looked normal! Half smiling, half unable to keep her feet, Mandy extended her hand in greeting and then pulled it back before it was accepted. "I think I'm going to be sick!"

"The Squire's sister," Poison finished as Mandy bent over and heaved with a wretch. The burning of her esophagus leaving her half thankful she never had time for breakfast.

"But how is she here?"

"I called the number, she answered, I picked her up," Poison was matter of fact.

"We work outside the boundaries of the law, and you jeopardize our whole operation by bringing her here unannounced. How dare you?"

"Mandy here can keep a secret."

"That's irrelevant, this running maverick..."

"I can keep a secret," Mandy looked at Wilson, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "And I would like to see my brother."

The directness from the girl quelled Wilson's fury. If she was his sister, and she was here he couldn't deny her. Now wasn't the time for power plays, he would have to reprimand Poison later. He looked into the girl's eyes, and then at Poison, frustrated to having been forced into this position.

"He's in here," Wilson directed her to the Med-Lab.

"He hasn't been well, Mandy," Poison interjected before the girl entered the room. "That is why I brought you here. Hopefully you can help him."

Heart opened the doors and beckoned Mandy to take the lead.

It was all true. Her brother was alive. There he was in a bed, after all this time, right there in front of her.

Mandy ran over to her brother and flung herself around him, hugging him, kissing him, calling to him. "Brian, Brian?" She stroked his cheek and hair before turning to the strange quartet around her. "He isn't waking up, what's wrong? Is he in a coma?"

"More like catatonic," Heart said as she moved closer to be a comfort. "But not long ago he

was calling for you."

"Me?" She surprisingly looked back at her brother. "Why me, he hated me?"

"Obviously, not so much."

"Well let's get an ambulance."

"We need him here," Poison stopped her. This was her last hope at reaching Squire, the last line to finding David, she wasn't letting anyone even entertain the thought of moving him.

"But these tubes? The intravenous? My brother obviously needs a hospital, what are you guys doing to him."

"Your brother has an accelerated metabolism," Kalide stepped forward. "Those tubes are keeping him alive, feeding him via intravenous. His best chance is here with us, with people that have a hope of understanding his gifts."

"Jesus," she whispered to herself. "This is nuts!"

Next to her brother, half sitting on his bed beside him, she couldn't comprehend it was him, with gifts? What gifts? And the outfit he was wearing the other night. It was like he wasn't her brother at all. She touched his cheek, but he was. He was.

"Where are your parents, Mandy?" Wilson inquired, but the girl was unresponsive. It was too much for her, too fast.

Heart tried to reach her, placing her hand on her shoulder to affirm her presence. "Your parents? Are they here, in the city?"

"Give her some time," Poison interjected. "The important thing is if her presence helps her brother back to the land of the living!"

She moved closer to the girl, grabbing her by the shoulders to get her attention. "Do you understand, Mandy? I understand you are upset at finding your brother, and I understand it is upsetting to see him this way, but you need to focus, one of our friends is in trouble and only your brother can help, so pull yourself together."

Wilson cut her off, pulling her away from the girl, towards the door.

"Out!" He ordered.

Once they were in the hall, Poison wheeled on him, but Wilson cut her off before she began.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm not fucking around!"

"Bringing her here unannounced? Manhandling her? Not even considering the ramifications? How the hell are we going to handle the parents?"

"You're the one keeping him here, not me," she moved back towards the Med-Lab entrance. "Let me back in there, the girl trusts me, we need to act."

"No way. Your emotions are running way to wild with all this, you're running on automatic, and you're creating more of a problem with the tension you bring. I'll handle this. You and Heart are on recon tonight. I want you out of here while we work through this."

She stared at him challengingly; she wasn't in the mood to be ordered.

"Trust me," Wilson pleaded. "Go out on recon, calm down, I won't let you down."

Looking past his shoulder into the Med-Lab, Poison weighed her options. Mandy was crying again. Squire was still just lying there. She just wanted him to wake up, she just wanted to push it, control the situation, but she couldn't. Bringing the girl her was all she could do, the only card she had found to play.

She wheeled away from him, and headed down the hall. "Tell Heart not to keep me waiting!"
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The young teenager watched the group of friends she had been with move down the street and into shadow, out of sight. Their laughter and voices trailing after them like an invisible parade. Herself, she held her brave face and began the descent into the valley park.

She should have been safe and gone the long way around among the safety net of her friends, but she could not afford the time. If she was late then her parents would never let her out tomorrow night, she had made that grounding mistake once before, and if she could not go out tomorrow night she would miss hanging out with her friends, and if she was not hanging out with her friends, then she would not hook up with Bobby Jordan, and if she did not see him again, as soon as possible, she would just die, and that would suck.

She licked her lips savouring the first kiss they had shared about an hour ago.

The forested park was darkened by the shadows of trees, and eerily silent except for the soft thrum of the creek that cut the valley in two along its length.

She looked up the hill again wandering if she should run back to her friends. It seemed too dark, but no, if she was late-she was grounded! Once she was at the bottom of the hill it was a short cut through a line of trees and then she would be on the bike path. From there she could follow one of the path's arms that should take her straight across the width of the small valley.

It was a journey she had made hundreds of times before, granted never before in the dark, all alone.

The trees loomed before her. She looked at her watch, only twenty minutes until curfew. She was going to have to practice her jogging, partially to make it on time, partially to get out of this valley as soon as possible. It was creepy, and as she reached the bottom of the small hill she suddenly felt cut off from civilization.

Why had her friends let her go alone? Simply because Samantha liked Bobby too, and this was her subtle form of revenge, and the other half of the equation as to why she had to double time it home. If she got grounded, Samantha would be left unsupervised tomorrow night, and the lord knew she would not waste any opportunity to get her slutty paws on Bobby.

She bolted through the line of trees, and over the low brush and turned left onto the path, at a run, not a jog. Fear propelling her faster.

"This...is...bullshit," she panted to herself in between breaths. "If mom and dad would just get me a fucking cell phone like I keep begging, I wouldn't be in this mess."

She could have called with an excuse, or simply have begged for a fifteen minute extension on her curfew, then she could have taken the long way, the safe way, but that would have meant calling from the noisy party, and she was supposed to be at the movies. It would have blown that cover. Why did things always get so complicated so fast?

Furthermore, why did she keep getting herself into these messes?

Simple answer, Bobby. He was trouble, but worth it, or at least she hoped so.

Sprinting, the only noise she was aware of was her panting and her canvas high tops slapping the paved path.

She could not keep the pace, and slowed to a fast walk, trying to catch her breath.

The bridge that transcended the small river was just ahead, the noise of lapping water enticing her forward. Once she crossed the bridge her journey would be half over.

It was frightening how the valley sucked the darkness from the night. Walking down the street with her friends it had seemed so light in the halo of the streetlamps. The moon provided some guidance, but her eyes and the shadows of the trees lining the way played tricks on her as if they were mischievous illusionists.

Again she sprinted a short distance and stopped. What was that, what had she heard?

There was something, masked by the soft noise of the river.

It came again, from far up the other side, hoots and hollers, older teenagers partying. Soon that would be her and her friends. A few more years. She smiled at the fantasy and felt a bit relieved. She heard more hooting and hollering, maybe her friends had taken pity on her and decided to catch up.

"Hey, guys?" She shouted, and then clapped her hands over her mouth, if it wasn't her friends then that was probably a pretty stupid thing to do.

Just keep walking, keep moving, and keep thinking of Bobby. He was few years older, but so nice. Tonight had been the second time they had met and he was such a gentleman.

A noise from her left gave her a start, pulling her out of her thoughts. It had been the snap of dead branches. A deer was close? Or at least she silently hoped it was a deer. It had to be.

Something flew out of the bushes stopping her in her tracks.

"Boo!"

She screamed and stepped to the side. It was a boy, older, college maybe.

Noises behind her. Three more were closing in from up the path. Beer cans and brown bags in their hands, the light of a cigarette glowed against one of the faces.

All of her internal alarm bells began clanging together.

"Good evening, my lady, sorry to frighten you," the one that had jumped out at her swaggered with the pungent odour of alcohol lacing his breath.

Alone, in the depths of the valley, surrounded by four drunken boys, her alarm bells were screeching. She was in trouble.

She kept walking, watching, trying to mask her fear. "Were you guys at that party I could hear from over there?"

"Yeah but it sucked. No hot chicks," the jumper said as he blatantly looked her up and down.

"Not hot like you, senorita," another one said as he grazed by her, his hand caressing her ass.

That startled her a little causing her to cower slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Shit-she was in trouble here!

"Want a drink?" The jumper said as he walked backwards in front her, taking a long pull from a bottle hidden in a brown bag.

"No thanks, curfew, I can't be late," she quickened her pace, trying to step around him, but he sidestepped and blocked her way.

"Then why are you in the valley, all alone little girl." His sneering grin was evil as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Short cut, y'know," she kept her head down, not being confrontational.

"Shortcut to my arms," he reached out for her, the preying sharks behind laughing in response.

"I'm sorry; I really have to get home."

"Fuck that, man! You need to party with us."

"Seriously I can't."

"Have a drink!" He was demanding, not asking as he motioned the bottle towards her face.

Her heart pounded in her chest, she kept moving forward, and didn't acknowledge the offer.

"What, we're not good enough to drink with?" He took another long swallow from the bottle, and then sprayed the contents of his mouth all over her face.

Shocked, she gasped. This was real big trouble!

Alone in a park valley, late at night, if a scream falls in the forest will anybody hear it?

"Stuck up bitch won't party, huh?" He circled her, leering, he pushed her to accentuate his disgust. "Too good for me and my friends?" And grabbed her from behind so he could place his mouth to her ear. "Well the night is young sweetheart, we want to party, and you are the entertainment."

He was kissing her neck from behind. The laughter and encouragement from the posse was like thunder in her ears.

"Hey, what's going on?" Two others had caught up to the group. More predators to share the spoils?

"Found us a little lonesome toy in need of some love," Jumper said as he licked her ear.

"C'mon, Tony, not again?" The newcomer said.

She knew that voice. "Bobby...Bobby is that you?"

He came closer to get a better look.

"Jesus!" Bobby's surprise was apparent. "What are you doing here?"

"You know this sweet thing, Bobby?" Another one of the pack asked. "You been holding out on us or something?"

"C'mon let her go," he reached out to grab her.

A knight in shining armour, he had come to save her, momentary relief speckled her like drops of rain.

The Jumper, Tony, pulled her away. "Don't be selfish, we can share."

"Cut it out, man, not this one, not tonight."

"Get the fuck out of here, Bobby," the Jumper yelled.

"Not this one," he made another, weaker attempt at reaching out to her.

"Don't fuck with me." Jumper wasn't letting go. Alcohol washed anger fuelling his words. "Do you really want to try and fuck with me on this, pussy?"

Her eyes searched for his, pleading for him to save her, to be strong, but his eyes were locked on the Jumper, silent confrontation, and then he was looking around at the others as they moved past him, closer.

He was stepping back, dropping his head, turning away.

She was pulled down to the ground. She screamed but a hand was pressing on her mouth. She tried to break free, to get up, but hands were holding her arms. She kicked, but hands were holding her legs. A hand was under her shirt. Hands were pulling down her pants.

The hands.

All the hands

So many hands, everywhere at once, hurting her.

She pressed her eyes closed, fighting, but trying to block it out.

The hands. Like spiders all over her body.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The weight of the Jumper pushed on her, into her, amongst the laughter and jeers. Then the weight was lifted, only to be replaced by another, this one more forceful, but her mind was rolling away, and their voices were becoming more distant as she silently prayed for her parents to suddenly be there, as she silently prayed for it to end.

The weight of the second one was gone, but with the hands pressing over her mouth she could barely catch a breath.

She came back to the moment as she heard yelling from the Jumper.

"What the fuck!"

And another one of them. "Who the fuck are you?"

There were no more hands pressing her to the ground.

There was no more laughter, just a lightening flash moment of silence.

Then the screaming began, but it wasn't her, it was them.

The leader of the pack, the Jumper from the woods, Tony, finished buckling his belt, as one of his cohorts dropped down onto the girl to take his turn. Tony chuckled as he finished his brown-bagged bottle because his friend, Ronald, had fallen hard; no grace at all, and it had to of hurt the girl even more.

"Awooo!" He howled into the night, the predator wolf. Filled with that drunken bravado he was invincible. The night was theirs.

Tony tossed his empty bottle into the air. It arced and came to a shattering halt a short way down the path. In front of a ghost!

"What the fuck," he yelled.

"Who the fuck are you?" Another yelled out in surprise.

Ronald jumped up, began fumbling with his pants, but then dropped to the ground with a scream.

The arrow Poison shot found its mark, straight into the thigh of the one who had obviously just finished his turn raping the girl. Her and Heart were moving in fast, they couldn't tell yet how badly the victim was hurt.

Another one of the rapists wasn't wasting any time running, he was off down the path at the first glimmer of trouble, a typical coward, tough in a crowd when outnumbering a chosen victim, but crying for their mother and wetting their pants once numbers started to equalize. He didn't get far. Poison loved a moving target, and the arrow to his back sent him flying forward.

Two others had been ensnared by Heart, dropping to the ground amidst their own crying wails as they were filled with regret and remorse over the horror they had just committed.

She was the ghost with her white cloak against the backdrop of the moonlit darkness, creating the initial fear and panic that had given the two of them the advantage, the element of surprise.

Not that they needed much, these were just college boys, Poison and Heart were trained for much worse, but any pack could be dangerous, and they both knew never to take any incident, or anyone for granted.

They both hurried to the victim, lying just off the path, dirty, bleeding from the nose, half naked from the waist down.

"Too late," Poison complained in pity for the victim, "We are always too damn late!"

The girl's fear had been a flair that had ensnared Heart's attention, an emotional beacon they had followed, but Heart had been unable to pinpoint the location of the distress call, only the general area, and because of that they had not arrived in time to prevent the attack.

Kneeling beside the victim, Heart spoke into her communicator. "Kalide, target my location we need emergency for one victim and the authorities and medical for four perps."

"Four?" Poison stopped. "We're missing one?"

"You're right, I initially had five," Heart said. "You go and I will stay with the girl."

Slowly moving down the path, Poison listened and peered into the shadows. He could not have gone far. She looked back at the white silhouette of Heart's cloak kneeling beside the girl, and she could feel her anger boiling, the low rumbles of an awakening volcano. If there was one thing she could not stand it was the sexual victimization of children and woman, that and the fact that they had been minutes too slow to stop this. She couldn't take any pride in the fact that if they had not arrived at all these animals would have hurt her for longer, done other horrible things. They would have been able to take their time. She felt a hatred burning against these young men, and anger at herself that the young girl had been hurt at all. Too slow, always too slow, just like they were moving too slow for David!

Coughing and taking in hard breathes, the girl moaned with pain and fear, wild eyes searching.

"It's okay, you're safe," Heart spoke as she used her power to gently calm her, relax her. "You're safe."

They had not thought ahead to bring a med kit with them from the Bethlehem, so all she could do was comfort the girl until the paramedics arrived.

"My parents?" The girl coughed out. "Worried...they'll be worried...I'm late."

"The authorities are on their way to help you; they will contact your parents..." Heart stopped short and with one fluid motion wheeled towards the trees while drawing a pistol from a holster concealed beneath her cloak. "Freeze!"

Staring down the barrel of a gun the boy stopped immediately with his hands raised. "Please! Please I know her!"

"Who are you?" The gun still trained on the surprise visitor, Heart questioned.

"Bobby," he stuttered. "My name is, Bobby, I'm a friend, her friend."

"Bobby what? And why are you hiding in the trees? Why didn't you help her then?"

"I tried, barely, I was chicken," he was stammering, never having been held at gunpoint before. "I tried to confront them, but then I was walking away. I was a coward walking away. I came back when I heard the guys scream, I thought maybe it was a park ranger." He was looking down at the girl and beginning to cry. For her, not out of fear. "I should have..."

"You're here now," Heart interrupted as she lowered her gun and called out. "Poison, I have the fifth!"

Turning at the sound of Heart's voice Poison heard a crunch of leaves and the snap of a twig. Instincts leading her, she rolled with the impact of a large branch against her back, twisted, but a second swipe knocked her crossbow from her hands. Lucky bastard!

If the fifth assailant was with Heart who was this surprise? She brought her leg up and kicked the makeshift club free from his hands.

He charged and tackled her to the ground. Her frustration was making her careless, this made twice she had allowed him the benefit of surprising her, and the white of his toothy grin told her that she had a predator in her grasp. He was on a drunken power trip, the girl hadn't been some happen chance experiment; this one had hurt other girls before.

Momentarily pinned beneath him she felt his mouth over the bottom of her earlobe, a moan of pleasure escaping him.

"Are you kidding me," she threw him off in disgust. "You want to try that with me?" She pushed him, antagonizing. "Then try me."

All she could see in the dark as he circled her was the white of his teeth, his curtain lips pulled back in a smile.

She was out here dealing with this trash while David was lost.

Her rage boiled over. "Try it on me," she dove into him, fuming. "Try me!"

Too slow for this girl, too slow for David.

There wasn't a smile anymore, as she delivered a parade of blows against him, just his cries for her to stop, begging her to stop, as he fell to the ground.

It made her even more disgusted, angrier, he had thought he had the upper hand, just another woman with a little more spunk, and he was learning that he was wrong. All her frustration flowed out of her through her punching hands and kicking feet, and it overwhelmed her and she was lost in the violence.

Hating herself for not being this strong when she was younger, hating herself for the girl, hating herself for letting David down.

"Where is he?" She shouted, "Where's David?"

The body on the ground didn't answer.

"What is wrong with you?" Heart was pulling her back, pulling her back to the moment.

He couldn't answer because he did not know. He couldn't because she had beaten him into unconsciousness.

"We subdue," Heart said as she pointed at the bleeding body on the ground. "We don't do this!"

"I know, Jesus, I know!" The Ice Queen, always in control, and she was losing it. "I thought you had the fifth?"

"There was one we missed, I had another one, a friend of the victim," Heart turned and pointed towards Bobby. "We have to go, Kalide called in moments ago, and we are needed back at Stardawn."

"And what do we do here? We can't just leave her before help arrives?"

"I'll stay with her," Bobby volunteered. "I imagine you two aren't supposed to be here when the cops show up anyways?"

"Ideally," Heart replied. "We'll make sure the others can't go anywhere first."

Sirens and the sound of a distant helicopter circling closer filled the air. Poison walked over to the young man, and the victimized girl. "Whatever your friends here say to the police, tell the truth about the rape. Deny seeing us."

"I'll make something up, I did nothing before, it's the least I can do now."

The girl spoke up. "Thank you!"

Poison knelt down to be closer to her. "Don't thank us, but please accept my apology for not finding you faster."

She wanted to say more, but what was there?
CHAPTER NINETEEN

Emergency flashers flitted in the darkness below, and the search light from the helicopter illuminated the valley. Heart piloted the Bethlehem away from the scene, the machine's stealth capabilities masking their exit.

"You are not handling things well, lately" Heart turned towards Poison.

"I know."

"This isn't like you, you're on edge."

"I know."

"What you did back there?"

"Jesus, I know!"

"Talk to me then, what is going on?" An opportunity to close the gap between them, she looked at Poison hoping for an explanation.

Poison wasn't sure she wanted to give one, but if she did it might end the lecture and the interrogation, or maybe she felt so much like she was going to explode that she had to get it out.

"I love him," she barely confessed.

"Who," Heart wasn't sure she had heard right.

"David."

"Right, we know."

"You all know?" She was embarrassed. She wasn't sure why, she was a grown woman. It was because she was always so private, held everything so close, that it was hard to comprehend that her feelings were that visible.

"It's hard for you isn't it?"

"What?"

"Feeling...love?"

"Yes it is," Poison responded. She couldn't believe she was sitting here having this conversation. "It's driving me insane. I feel out of control."

"What happened back there..."

"Was me out of control, it won't happen again."

"I was going to say, is between us!"

"Thank-you!"

"You're welcome."

Poison sat back, working her lower lip between her teeth. Now they shared a secret. Now she owed Heart a favour. She was in love and now she was indebted to somebody she didn't like a whole bunch.

She hated being on a team!

Stumbling awake, Squire rose to a seated position on his bed, only to find himself surrounded by several people. Working the cobwebs from his brain in an effort to get a handhold on reality, he felt like he had escaped one nightmare only to find himself in a waking one. Intravenous tubes were in his arms, a hospital gown his only clothing, illuminated machines beeped all around. It wasn't a cleansing station of the Liegelord's, but maybe it was something worse.

Some half-machine man stepped closer. "Do not be alarmed, Squire."

"I'm Brian Welder!"

"Do you remember anything?" The machine-man moved closer.

Brian was wary, but felt too weak to make a move, and was still having a hard time focusing. "I remember everything. I escaped hell, now where am I?"

A woman came to his side, throwing her arms around him, squeezing.

"Mandy?" He pushed her back to get a clear look at her face. "My god, you've grown!"

"You can trust them," she responded, still holding her brother's hand. "And of course I've grown, it's been two years!"

"Two years? What about mom and dad, where are they?"

"They are out looking for you. Every year at this time, around the anniversary of your disappearance they head out to the mountains to search, they have never given up hope. They've been gone a while this time, coincidentally it was their 25th wedding anniversary this year also, so they went on vacation first. They usually call, but they haven't since leaving Europe, but I'm sure they will be home soon."

"Where am I? Who are these people?" He asked as he looked around. There was the machine-man, his friend John, and another. "John?"

John didn't answer, unlike Brian he did not remember his other life, and he only went by one name, Plaza.

"John?" Brian said again a little louder. His friend knew he was talking directly to him; they were looking straight at each other. "You don't know do you? You don't remember?"

"I don't know what you are talking about, Squire," Plaza said.

"It's not real," Brain tried to explain, to reason with his friend. "My name isn't really Squire. Your name, the life you know isn't real, Plaza. You have a family."

"I'm sorry, I only know now," Plaza looked at him a little frightened, Squire was confused and acting quite strange since awakening. "But I am glad you are finally better. It was a hard run from Kriegen, but these people saved us."

"My name is Wilson Donner," Wilson stepped forward introducing himself as he held out a hand in greeting. "You are in my facility."

"Why am I not in a hospital? Why are our families not here? And what the hell is that?" Brian pointed to Kalide.

"My name is Kalide, I am a cyborg, and you are not in a hospital because you are safer here and these facilities are better," Kalide explained. "We only just found out who you are recently, and we haven't contacted anyone yet because we need you."

"Need me? It sounds like I am being held captive?"

"You are free to go when you feel well enough. You are free to contact whomever you want. Your sister wouldn't be here if we were trying to keep you hostage..." Wilson was explaining before being interrupted by the newly awakened Squire.

"Unless she is your collateral?"

"I'm not," Mandy chided in, attempting to talk sense into her brother. "Just listen to them, they saved you, helped you."

The doors to the med-lab opened and Heart and Poison entered, both surprised and pleased to see Squire awake. Mandy gave Poison an excited wave as if they were best friends that had not seen each other for a while. Poison returned the greeting with a slight nod of acknowledgement.

The room was full now, and Brian felt totally surrounded, cynicism draped a blanket of claustrophobia over him. "You are going to have to forgive my scepticism. I have spent the last year in the confines of my own mind, wrestling with somebody I had been brainwashed into believing I was. It was a long fight, and an even harder battle to escape."

"We understand," Wilson said. "But this Kriegen you were running from, we believe he has our friend, our team-mate, and we need you to lead us to him?"

"You do not understand. Kreigen was the one that was after us, but he is nothing compared to the true ruler." Brian paused for a deep breath. "The Liegelord!

"I have seen things, done things....your friend...whatever he was is no more. Look at me, look at John; we have been genetically changed forever. John doesn't even remember who he is, and I have only come back to myself by some strange miracle, but after everything I will never be the same."

Mandy cut him off, worried. "What are you talking about, changed?"

"I can do things now, Mandy, tests, experiments were done on me," he looked at his younger sister solemnly.

"What happened, you look normal?"

"I'll show you, soon, it takes a lot out of me and I feel like I can barely stand as it is now."

"Well who did this to you, where have you been all this time?"

She would never comprehend and he wanted to spare her the pain of the details, so he turned his attention back to Wilson, his voice suddenly filled with fear and desperation. "The Liegelord is hidden in the Rocky Mountains, in plain sight, but invisible to the outside world. His fortress is impenetrable, and even if you find it, even if you get in, there is an army he is building. It is hopeless!"

"You escaped! You and John are proof there is hope," Mandy interjected again.

"And that is why we need you," Wilson pleaded. "To lead us there."

"You don't get it," fear had already filled him with conviction; he just needed them to see reason. "I'm not going back there. I escaped, and I am not walking back into that nightmare for anything or anyone."

"But..." Mandy started.

"You little shit," Poison pushed forward, grabbed Squire by the front of his hospital gown, spun him off the bed and slammed him back against the wall. "How dare you after all we have done for you."

He looked in her eyes. "Intimidation doesn't work here. I could have escaped already a thousand times over if I wanted to, I am that fast, except you have my sister here, against her will or voluntarily is irrelevant, now that I am back I am not leaving her."

Poison held him tight and pushed into him a little harder. She wasn't one to back down either in a contest of wills.

Brian looked over her shoulder at Wilson. "I assume you are the leader here. Call off your dog and leave me alone with my sister." He had never been this astute in his life. It was amazing the confidence true fear could instil in someone. There was no way he was going to let himself be pushed into going back. He needed to get Mandy alone so he could talk sense into her and get them out of here.

"Let him go, Poison," Wilson said. "We can't force him to do anything."

"Selfish son of a bitch!" Poison said to him as she released her grip and turned for the exit.

"We will give you time with your sister," Wilson offered. "And I hope you take the time to reconsider. You may not feel like you owe anyone here, but the man that was kidnapped from us, myself, all of us here, risked our lives to save you. We have spent our time nursing you. We did this by choice."

Before leaving, Kalide interjected. "I am not sure how you are doing yet, until I run some more tests, I would still suggest taking it easy, but in the meanwhile I will bring you some clothes so you can be more comfortable."

"Thank-you," Brian replied as he watched the group leave the room.

Once they were gone, Brian turned to his sister and held her, his bravado washed away and replaced by the reality of his circumstances. "I'm so glad to see you. I thought I was lost forever. I never thought I would make it. And I am so sorry, I am so sorry you have been dragged into this." He had escaped the Liegelord. He was free. Free except for the nightmares that would accompany his every night, the haunting that he would have to live with for the rest of his life, but he was almost home and for now that was all that mattered.

"It's okay," she consoled him.

"We need to get out of here and call mom and dad. Tell them I am okay, tell them to come home," he was looking at her now, the big brother, taking control of his emotions, taking control of the situation. "We need to call the police, and get John some help."

"Stop it! Stop it!" Refusing to leave, Plaza had remained behind to stay close to his friend. "This isn't right! You keep calling me that, it is no longer who I am regardless of what you say and you are still talking of running, but this isn't finished."

"John...Plaza," Brian corrected. "Do we even known who these people are? Who or what they are affiliated with? We need to get help. You need help to wipe away this brainwashing we suffered."

"These people, Squire, these people saved us from Kriegen. These people protected us from another Hunter when it invaded their home. A Hunter that we led to them, jeopardizing their sanctuary." Plaza was becoming increasingly frustrated with his friend. "I understand you are scared, I understand, but that day in the tunnels you came to me, and you told me to trust you. I ran with you, I fought with you, but I cannot turn my back on what they have done for us."

"You have family that probably thinks you are dead!" Squire pointed at Plaza trying to make him see reason. "Don't you care?"

"You keep telling me things I am supposed to know. You keep telling me I am supposed to be someone different..."

Mandy couldn't take it anymore. "Both of you stop! Think about it, Brian. Wilson was right. How horrible would it be to notify John's family, for them to know he is alive, but when he sees them they would be like complete strangers? They would have found him only to be losing him again. We have to think this through!"

"Think? " Squire sarcastically chuckled. "I can't think, I am so scared, and I'm feeling like I am two different people, my head is so full of noise." He repeatedly slapped the palm of his hand against his forehead. "The living nightmares, I've been asleep for days stuck in a never ending nightmare, and I just want out! I just want to be home and for the noise to stop!"

"And they have a team-mate that is probably suffering the same thing as you right now that needs your help," she reached out to him.

"I'm so scared!" He fell back into a seated position on the bed, burying his head in his cupped hands. He felt exhausted, spiralling into a pit of confusion and despair.

Someone was in their house, and the woman, Poison, had arrived in probably the clichéd nick of time, and brought her back here, risking their secrets. That night when all her nightmares had come true and that monster was about to eat her she had been saved by that man. They had also saved her brother from being killed. Brian had earned freedom but at the cost of one of their own losing his. Mandy wrapped her arms around her brother. To her it was all about karma. "They saved your life. They brought you home to your family. Complete strangers who risked their life for you, for no reason, but because they could. Because it was right. You can't walk away from that, not now that they need you. You need to go back. You need to help them bring their family member home," in her usual true form, Mandy didn't stop, it just flowed from her. "I know you are scared, god, I can't imagine what you have been through, but don't let that man suffer the same. He made a sacrifice for you, now you have to do the same. You can't walk away from this, Brian! You can't! The nightmares will only be worse if you don't face your fears now and help save him. Take them back. Make things right!"

"But I did nothing wrong?"

"I know, and I never meant to imply that you did, but if it wasn't for this David guy, you would be dead."

"It is true," Plaza spoke. "I can't imagine going back either, not after such a long and hard flight. To finally be free, and then walk right back into the den of the lion?"

"And not only is it the right thing to do, but mom and dad are out there looking for you," Mandy interjected. "Plus if you leave here, where are you going to go? Home? Think it through. Once you go to the hospital with John, or anywhere for help, and the authorities get involved you will be even more trapped."

They were both trying to push him, convince him to do something he didn't want to, was scared to, and all he wanted to do was run and be free of this hangman's noose of claustrophobic fear.

"Just a minute. Just a minute," he held up his hand to keep them at bay. They were pushing, but his fear was controlling him, and Brian just felt like he needed a moment so he could sift through it all and catch his breath. He was free now, and he felt like Brian Welder again, but was he ever really going to be free of the Liegelord and Kriegen. Being safe now was an illusion, they would always hunt John and himself, there is no way they would ever be allowed to walk away. Brian looked closely at his younger sister who had already been pulled down into this well of chaos because of him. He was afraid of going back, but the emotion that was truly overpowering him was the realization that he had not escaped anything at all, no matter how far they had run, he had only left a trail for the Liegelord, he had only come home to put his family at risk. Not only would he never be safe, they would always be at jeopardy also. It would have been better if he had stayed away.

It wasn't fear that was inhibiting him. It was the sense of powerlessness, the sudden realization that he had no control of the events of his life from this moment forward.

It had all been for nothing. There was no escape. He could run into forever, and they would only keep coming, hunting him.

"We brought you some ordinary clothes to change into," Kalide said as he and Wilson entered the room.

"You can just bring me the stuff you found me in. I won't be in need of civilian clothes just yet. I'll do it, I'll take you there," Squire conceded. To face his fears, for the safety of his family, there was no other choice.

Mandy's mouth dropped open, but this time no sound erupted from between her lips, the roller coaster tongue didn't move. She had wanted her brother to help, to make the right choice. She had even tried to convince him to, but now that he was agreeing to lead them back to the place that had held him for years, had done things to him that he was thus far unwilling to share, her stomach dropped. What if he didn't come back again? What if he was lost to them again?

Wilson and Kalide looked at each other. They were not sure what had happened in the short time they were gone, but they weren't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Thank-you," Wilson said. "We will want to go as soon as possible?"

Kalide interjected. "If you don't mind, we will perform some tests first, run through some training exercises, ensure you are feeling okay, and get a feel for what you can do?"

"Fine," Brian agreed as he jumped down from the bed. He was feeling angry now, revenge was beginning to bleed from his heart, and he was energized. He just wanted to run. He had been living a lie the past few years and his head still felt cloudy with overcoming the conditioning he had suffered, but right now the only therapy he needed for that was wrapping his hands around the Liegelord's throat.
CHAPTER TWENTY

Head down, arms crossed, the heavy weight of foreboding pushing her shoulders forward into a slump, Mandy trudged down the hall behind Poison. The reality of the situation played on her mind as she worked through what had transpired over the past few days, how her world, her existence had changed, and for once she was quiet, speechless.

"Will I be able to see my brother again before you go?" Mandy asked with her head still down.

Poison couldn't help but grin, the fleeting moment of silence, nothing lasts forever. Despite herself, Mandy was quickly growing on her.

"Certainly, we are just running him through some tests and training situations. We don't know what we are getting into and we need to be able to function as a team, together, know each other's capabilities, strengths and rely on each other," she answered as she directed the girl through the corridors. "It will be a few hours and then we will want to get going. We can't waste any more time, but we won't keep you from any goodbyes."

So much, so fast, this was the life they were leading under the banner that the man calling himself Eagledawn held so high. Weeks, sometimes months would go by of nothing, the unending calm, and just as you were getting comfortable and not expecting it anymore, like a gunshot everything changed in a fleeting moment. That is why Poison never let her guard down, ever. She was always ready, always training. For her there was no peak of performance to be reached there was only the ascension.

And here Poison was leading a young woman through the halls; a young woman who had been so sheltered that she lived her life oblivious to the horrors that transpire behind our backs, in those moments that we blink. Her ignorance kept her blind. This Poison could tell by the girl's awkwardness in trying to comprehend what was happening, and by the fact that she was having a hard time processing it all. Her world was unraveling and Poison was sure Mandy Welder wouldn't be able to handle it.

"This is my room," they stopped in front of the door. "I believe Wilson already asked you to stay here at our quarters. We believe it will be safer for you here than at your home, precautionary of course. Kalide has encoded the security with your profile so you will have access to the places he has authorized. Pretty much free reign. We also have contracted a third party to monitor your house, and they will intercept your parents for us if they show up before we get back. Precautionary again, but better to play the safe card."

Demonstrating how to use the sensor to unlock the door, Poison motioned for Mandy to go first.

Upon entering, Mandy was surprised by the openness of the room, the brightness created by the surrounding windows. "I thought we were underground?"

"We are," Poison answered. "There are hidden cameras mounted outside the building that feed the images to these screens built into the wall. It's supposed to replicate a window, make you feel less like you are living in a tomb."

"Whoa, does it work?"

"I'd have to say yes. You can give me your opinion when we get back. There is a remote that controls it, similar to a widescreen television really, that lets you pick your scenery; ocean view, a mountain view, or a view of the street as if you're in a high-rise apartment"

Mandy looked around the room taking it in, and then stopped.

Poison could tell by the sudden shift in body language that the girl was fading into that slippery slope again. So much change for her, so fast, the abrupt shift from normalcy to chaos.

"Are you okay?" Poison stepped closer to her.

Mandy turned and looked at her, tears were forming in her eyes. "I don't know what he has been through, I can't even imagine, but he has changed. I can feel it from him, he is trying to hold it in and just be my brother like always, but he is so angry," she stopped to look squarely at Poison and ensure she was paying attention. She had so much to say, but for once managed to be short and concise before turning away. "Take care of him for me okay! I don't know how I would ever explain it to my parents if I lost him again."

Poison was listening. These were not just the usual ramblings of the girl, these were thought out emotions coming through, and right now the girl needed some reassurance. "We'll watch over him."

The moment the words fleeted from her mouth, she silently hoped, they would not be famous last ones.

They had gathered together in the hangar bay. This was it. Eagledawn studied each one of them.

Holly, call-sign Heart.

Lea, call-sign Poison.

Kalide, the cyborg, weapons and technological warhorse. He had so many different personas during his government black ops days that his true identity had been wiped from existence. Kalide. That was the only name left.

And by proxy the two newest members, Squire and Plaza.

This was what Eagledawn had gathered them for, trained them for. They had accomplished so much together, but this was possibly more than they had ever faced before as they were about to go into the unknown and rescue a fallen team-mate. He had started all of this after the murder of his wife. Every day since was in atonement, and every moment that followed would be for revenge against Elizabeth's killer.

"Let's board up," he ordered as he motioned them to the Bethlehem. "Our goal is to find David. A straight extraction and we get out. Squire will brief us en route."

Commandeered by Kalide, the Bethlehem silently rose into the sky. Everyone on board was silent, lost in their own thoughts and reservations of what was to come.

Wilson rose from his co-pilot station to turn and face the rest of the group. "Squire has

already given Kalide the location. When we get there, Kalide will drop the five of us and then

stay with the Bethlehem in case we need a quick retrieval out of there.

"Upon Squire's instruction, to increase our chances of avoiding detection we are going to

have to go in by foot from at least two miles out."

He looked down at Squire to continue with the promised briefing, but the young man wasn't even looking at him, was he even listening? With what they were going into, the boy's reservations and fears made Wilson uncomfortable. Would they be able to rely on him? Trust him? The questions were irrelevant; they didn't have any other choice. He just kept praying to himself that they would find David. That this wasn't going to be a suicidal goose chase. "What else, Squire?"

It made his skin crawl to be called the name Plaza had initially given them. He was Brian Welder, but it seemed moot to keep arguing it now. They were all playing soldier with their codenames, and he was just going to have to play along until this was all over. "On the outside there are two major hurdles. Firstly these are highly fortified quarters in the Rocky Mountain range. It isn't just by chance the Liegelord has been able to exist all this time without notice. Cloaked and guarded from intrusion by cameras, microphones and seismic monitors. If we are not seen or heard approaching, then the second and most dangerous obstacle is the Hunters that are running wild in the area as patrol. They are the ones that had originally captured John and me." He paused, reflecting back to the day they were captured, guided by the perverse hand of fate. If only they had kept going on their original plan and not let curiosity stray them from their path. If only?

"Not often," he continued. "But if they ever go to hold court with the Liegelord there is a tunnel the Hunter's use to gain access to the mountain quarters. That is our entry target, and only chance. It will be monitored, but there are no cameras, just motion sensors. I am hoping we will be mistaken as Hunters. It was how Plaza and I escaped."

"And why did you escape?" Heart turned to him to ask. "Plaza is still fully immersed in his persona. How is it you came back to yourself?"

Squire leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, "The Liegelord has his hands in everything, almost a power broker between nations. I would not be surprised if the government doesn't know where he is, but it is an uneven balance that he hasn't directly done anything against them while they turn a coerced blind eye, but they are also ignorant that he is playing all sides. He either takes what he wants by force, stealth, or through persuasion because practically every country is petrified of the secrets he holds."

"You make it sound like he is running the world?" Kalide interjected.

"Not yet! No, he is just directing it, or certain events, he is a patient, sleeping dragon, engineering an army."

"Engineering?" Eagledawn requested clarification.

"There are things in the mountain called the Caregivers. Heartless beasts performing

experiments on people, changing them.

"They changed us. Wiped our minds, gave us powers, science fiction stuff. I mean it's hard to sit back and reflect on, how is any of this real? How are you guys even real?"

Rhetorical or not, nobody answered.

"I know bits and pieces from info I had stumbled upon or overheard through my stay. I am a Squire, so I was training with the Knights," Squire continued explaining. "I have been part of some missions, Afghanistan, Iraq, Africa. A lot in the different regions of Africa. So much of it is subtle, kidnappings, people that just disappear. It happens so much more in our country than what is ever seen in the news. Mostly you just ever hear about kids, or it gets local attention, but the missing person's lists are huge; I would wager a vast percentage of them are now a part of the Liegelord's serfdom. The Knights hunt for new prey to bring back, new subjects for the Caregivers to perform their genetic magic on. The Liegelord is building this army, and keeps promising a big war, but every once in a while the natives get too restless, and he has to feed them all a carrot every now and again.

"We raised a small town, and killed, men, women, and children. By god the screams of children." Squire stopped, taking a moment to quiet the voices of the past crying in his memory. "The things I've done!" He rested in the chair, thinking, the horrible way he had hurt people. Such black memories of himself, but they were not actions he had performed as himself. So hard to comprehend and filter. It was enough to silently creep oneself towards crazy. "I've done things. Things I can't believe, but I wasn't myself. I was a squire, The Squire performing to my best to impress the Liegelord and become a Knight in his service. It disgusts me to even think about some of the horrors I have committed. That, I think, is what began the breakdown within me." He closed his eyes tight to press back the tears. "Now I need some redemption, to prove I am not that sick person, that I didn't take pleasure in the acts I have committed."

"You wouldn't be here now if there were remnants of that person left," Heart consoled. She could feel his anguish leaking out. Droplets from a faucet.

"Just the memories," he returned. "Spoils of war, as I said victims were brought back for the Caregivers to experiment on, to change, but this time we brought back children to satisfy the Caregivers genetic cravings. Being in the Cleansing Station and hearing the screams of pain from little children, that was when I snapped, it was too much to bear."

Squire continued, "There was a boy about 8 or 9, he had already watched us murder his parents the day before and he was in shock, just this shell, but they strapped him down and began to work on him. They caused him so much pain, this little boy; his screams just rang, crying in anguish and fear. 'Mommy, Daddy?' crying out for his parents. Hopeless because he knew they couldn't answer, wouldn't answer, and he was all alone; literally trapped in a waking nightmare. The Caregivers revelled in the torment."

He remembered the child calling out for his parents. "Such pain and desperation, I found myself squeezing my eyes shut and holding my hands over my ears to block out the sound but I was screaming out also. Mom! Dad!

"When I opened my eyes I saw it all differently. I was me, Brian. Lost. Confused. My old self had erupted to the surface from somewhere deep inside. I just reacted, and went berserk charging the guards and the Caregivers operating on the boy."

Silence haunted the cabin of the Bethlehem for a few moments as Brian struggled with the memories that he owned of somebody else.

"And that is where I came in," Plaza broke in, giving Squire time to catch his breath. "I am just a serf in the Liegelord's fiefdom, but my job was transporting the subjects from the holding pens to the Cleansing Stations. My powers gave me the strength to haul them, and my armour was protection if they tried to fight back along the way. I hated it, but insubordination was not even conceivable.

"That day I entered the Cleansing Station and saw a different horror. The guards and Caregivers were in pieces, strewn about the floor, the streams of blood having painted the room. And there was Squire, screaming and hacking with his sword at the bonds of the boy, trying to free him, but it was obvious the boy had not made it through his trials and was gone.

"I went to stop him and calm him down, but as I approached, Squire just wheeled on me and swung his sword blindly. My Armour stopped the attack, but then he looked at me with surprise, yelled 'John' and was hugging me, crying."

Squire added. "I couldn't believe it was him, but of course he didn't have a clue who I was, and I didn't get the chance to explain because in my rampage, one of the Caregivers had sent an alarm and at that moment a group of guards came storming into room.

"We fought together, but Plaza was subdued, and it was reminiscent of the day we were captured because as he was going down he was yelling for me to run. And with my power that is what I did. I ran, hiding in the mountain, scavenging for two days until I discovered the tunnel the Hunters used. I was ready to escape, to race home away from my nightmare, but I couldn't go without John. I couldn't just leave him.

"I learned he had been sentenced to death for helping me fight against the guards in the Cleansing Station and was being held in the dungeon. I was relieved and surprised that they hadn't already killed him."

"I was to be made an example of, so they had delayed my execution to plan something special," Plaza said.

"I snuck into the dungeon, killed the guards, freed Plaza and convinced him to escape with me. Together we ran."

"And Kriegen hunted us the entire way!" Plaza finished.

A crazed maniac hiding in a mountain, kidnapping adults, and even worse kids, to torture with experiments and genetic engineering. Poison closed her eyes. Her bottom lip worming its way between her teeth as it so often liked to do. She couldn't even imagine what they would have done with David.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The group of five trudged through the underbrush along the mountain's base. Sunlight, desperate to touch the ground, reached with arms of light through any opening it could find along the green ceiling the tall firs and pines created.

Where shadows still reigned along their path, the morning was still soft and cool. Heart pulled her cloak tighter to ward off the chill. There was no protection to warm her though against the anxiety that leaked out of her team-mates. They wore brave faces in this silent march, but their emotions were a naked truth that she could not escape. So strong was Squire's fear that it was taking a lot of effort for her to stay focussed and not succumb to its weight. In the silence with nothing but his thoughts his emotion grew stronger with every step, threatening to pull them both down. She needed to distract him, so she could manage a subtle push, a whispered kiss of calm to balance out his negative feelings.

"Do the Hunter's monitor the tunnel?" Heart whispered to Squire.

"They didn't used to because nobody knew of it. Plus it is rarely used. They might now if they figured out we used it for our escape, which I am sure they did considering they tracked us, but they tend to be more nocturnal that is why I thought a mid-morning approach might be best."

He came to a stop, halting the others. "Beyond that bend ahead there is a thin path up the ridge, a deer run really, that leads to a cave which is the tunnel entrance. Stay here a moment and I will go run reconnaissance, make sure it isn't being watched."

"That boy is going to rabbit on us," Poison quipped as she looked about the forest floor for something to sit on.

Just up ahead, perched on a large boulder was a Hunter. Hidden in the camouflage of shadows from the surrounding trees, it had its back to him and was surveying the valley below the ridge.

Squire stopped moving all together, frozen in fear twenty feet behind the Hunter, he had been lucky he had even noticed the creature, otherwise he would have ran right into him. Indecision kept him still. Going back to the others was too risky. He had to kill it, but he couldn't. He had killed before, but as the Squire, face to face with having to do it now he couldn't. The thought of it filled him with revulsion, but if he couldn't kill, what the hell was he doing here?

He was stuck between fear and the Hunter.

With its heightened senses, if he ran, the Hunter would hear him, see him.

His fingers wrapped themselves around the hilt of his sword.

If he drew it the Hunter would hear the soft scrape of the metal against leather.

No escape. For somebody so fast, Squire had never moved so slow, His left foot moved behind him in a step. In adrenaline's struggle between fight and flight, flight was dominating.

He would step away quietly, get the others, their plan was compromised it was over.

His eyes were pinned on the shadowed form as his left food finally found ground.

Heightened senses. He had made one mistake. He was downwind.

The Hunter tilted its head, turning it to the left a little, and sniffed. "Squire!"

Squire flew forward, twenty feet in one swift motion. His sword was out and from behind his left hand covered the Hunter's mouth, pulling him backwards into the sword he was driving forward between the things shoulder blades.

He withdrew his blade and the monster fell to the ground with a grunt. Not dead? Fear, panic, disgust all overwhelmed him as he hacked downwards. Over and over, the blood flying up and in his face, covering his hands, making the hilt of the sword too slippery to hold that he dropped it, forced him to stop.

He had done it. Killed, murdered, hacked the Hunter to gruesome pieces. These are things he had done as the Squire and never imagined he would ever do again, but in a moment of life versus death, he had become that which he loathed. Would he ever be able to escape?

The clearing in which Kalide had landed the Bethlehem was on the upper backside of a mountain range. A thick wall of trees surrounded most of the area, but on the starboard side were only a few pine trees that speckled the ten feet between the ship and a small upper lake. The Bethlehem was cloaked for sound and against any satellite imagery or radar. In flight it was either too fast, or could be masked with a faux cloud to keep it hidden. The only vulnerability was being on the ground in line of sight, and that starboard side was quite open. They could have landed in a more discreet place further out, but it would have been too far for the others to hike in or would have made the trip in for extraction that much longer. It was riskier staying here, but closer, plus Squire had mentioned that the ground patrols, the Hunters, were less active during the day.

After setting the perimeter radar, Kalide went to work prepping the Bethlehem so it was ready to take off again at a moment's notice, but that was when he noticed the small flashing red light from the console in the cockpit.

It meant something was wrong with the landing jack on the port side which was strange because everything had worked fine when he had brought the ship down earlier?

The group of strange hikers were startled when Squire came walking back to them with an ashen coloured faced pockmarked with streaks of maroon-red, and his hands were covered in dirt and more blood.

"What happened?" Plaza asked.

"A Hunter was guarding the way...I caught him...by surprise..." Squire panted, unable to catch his breath. Not from running, but from the experience. "I killed him...it..." he looked at his hands struggling to believe they had been capable. "...buried it...to hide the evidence, and mask the scent."

"Obviously they are not as nocturnal as you led us to believe!" Poison's sarcasm made its flippant point.

"If there are more of them close by we need to get out of the open, fast." Eagledawn said. "How much farther to the tunnel?"

"Not far. It is just up the path from where I killed it," Squire said as he led them on.

Upon exiting the Bethlehem, Kalide raised the landing ramp and secured the ship. The port jack would have to be investigated from outside. He wasn't too concerned yet, but the flashing red light in the cockpit threatened to drive him crazy.

One of the hydraulic cables had been cut clean. The damage was obviously man made, not from the tampering of an animal, and it wasn't going to be worth trying to repair out here, as it was not something that would impede him taking off.

What was disconcerting though, as he began a slow rotation around the ship was that the cut had been deliberately done, and probably with the intention of drawing him out.

The tunnel was long and dark. The two mini Maglite flashlights that Poison carried provided some support as they followed single file. Being second last in line she held one and Squire, leading the group had the other.

"I was so scared and disgusted of the thing I had been made into, that I thought I would be useless here. I thought I would let you down," Squire began out of nowhere as his pace through the tunnel slowed. "But I did it. I killed that Hunter."

He stopped suddenly.

Poison flashed her light up at him. "Not again?"

"Is everything okay, son?" Eagledawn asked.

"Yes," he answered, but made no signs of getting ready to move forward again.

"Are you okay to go forward with this," Eagledawn prodded again.

"I'm not faltering," he responded while studying the darkness ahead. "I was just taking a moment, thinking about my sister. Thinking about my parents and the son they raised. I was just reminding myself of why I was here."

After that, with nothing else, he moved on again.

They had marched through the passage for almost an hour; deeper and deeper into the core of the mountain. From somewhere else deep rumblings could be heard every now again, signs they were getting closer.

In the last stretch the ground elevated, gradually leading them up, and ahead a dim light could be seen, marking an end to the first phase of their journey.

Squire turned and whispered. "Once we reach the top here, to the right is a guard room, I don't know if it is manned or not. We either have to be extremely quiet going past and go the longer way, or risk going through the room. Inside there is another door, a shortcut to the dungeons."

"Let's risk it. We can collect ourselves once inside and out of the open and decide our next plan of action," Eagledawn decided.

"Hardest part is done," Plaza assured. "We got in pretty easy without being seen and without any trouble."

All too easy, was what played on Heart and Poison's minds. And the look they gave each other at that point confirmed they were both reading the same scripture.

As Kalide began a second trip around the area surrounding the Bethlehem he magnified his one cybernetic eye, allowing him to look deeper into the dense populace of forest trees, and across the lake on the other side.

It was the peripheral vision of his one human eye that caught the shadow that fleeted by, moving in the direction of the maze of trees.

Something was out here. He couldn't risk letting anything tamper any further with the ship. It was time for a little game of cat and mouse. He just had to decide which role he wanted to play. While moving forward in the direction of the fleeting shadow he extracted a small metal cartridge from a compartment in his left leg and loaded into the armament atop his right forearm.

Pressed with her right ear against the heavy wooden door, Heart reported to the others. "I hear voices, several but not many, and I feel...rage. Anger and hate, boiling. They are very aggressive."

"Considering that door could open at any moment, and considering it is the shortest path to the dungeon, we're going in. Fast and quiet!" Eagledawn said as he prepared himself, claws at the ready. "Plaza, the door please? And once inside secure it first before anything else."

Plaza stepped forward, steel-red arms ready to break the door open, but Poison stepped in front of him, stopping him with a hand on his chest.

"Subtlety, please, and maybe we can retain a little bit of the element of surprise for our advantage," she said as she gently pushed Plaza out of the way and knelt down to the door's handle.

Eagledawn watched her closely; whatever secret she held that currently enabled her to manipulate the lock on that door was probably the same trick she had used to sneak into his office days ago. He hated all the secrets this woman held, but hated it more that she didn't trust him enough yet to share any of them.

"Don't be fooled," Plaza told her. The door looks like wood, but behind the façade is reinforced steel."

"Ready?" She whispered back to them, and the door slid open into the room.

Squire flew over her and had already cut one of the guards down by the time the rest of them had entered the room. Five more remained. Three of them had been sitting around an old oak table, dressed in leather and mail, their metal helmets resting on the wood. They seemed so out of time, displaced, but they had been trained well because they were already up and drawing their weapons of swords and maces.

Two of them turned on each other, their anger pressed towards each other by Heart's manipulation.

They moved deeper into the room pressing their advantage and another one fell clutching his throat as one of Poison's arrows found its perch and simultaneously Squire's blade sliced across his midsection.

Squire was already moving to his third victim by the time the guard hit the floor along with his exiting intestines. The speed, the blood, Squire was moving too fast for the others to see the thin wisp of a smile playing across his face. This power was invigorating. He was in control now. Revenge was sweet!

While Plaza secured the door behind them, Eagledawn was in a melee with the guard that had run over to stop Plaza. Blows were exchanged as Eagledawn punched and clawed, keeping in tight so his attacker couldn't get in a proper swing with his sword. A surprise kick sent him pedalling back enough for the guard to press the advantage and bring his sword swinging in a high arc. The downward curve aimed straight for Eagledawn. The weight of the blade matched with the momentum of the arc threatened to split Eagledawn's head wide open, but the blade came to a clanging, sparking halt against the timely intervention of the armoured forearm of his team-mate, Plaza.

The guard cried out against the shockwave vibrations that ran up through the handle of the sword into his arms.

"Thank you," Eagledawn passed to Plaza as he dove forward into the guard.

They were both back on their feet, circling each other. This guard had a lot of fight in him which was just fine with Eagledawn. Then the guard fell as an arrow ripped through his leg above the kneecap.

"I had him!" Eagledawn yelled over at Poison for intervening.

"Maybe," she retorted. "But we are in a time crunch here, efficiency, you were taking too long."

He cursed at her under his breath. She was always pushing him, goading him, but he hated that she was also right.

The two guards that Heart had forced their anger against had half killed each other before Plaza walked over to them, bashing their heads together into unconsciousness.

"We were good. That was good," Squire panted, surveying his handiwork. Heart gave him a strange look. His morbid excitement was disconcerting in view of his earlier reservations.

"I'm not comfortable with this rampant killing," Heart said.

"You better get over it if you have any desire of getting out of here alive," Squire smiled at her sarcastically.

Before anyone could say anything else a response of laughter filled the room.

It was the guard that Eagledawn was fighting, that Poison had shot through the leg. Their attention had been turned to the last two guards that Plaza was looking after, and in the meanwhile this one had crawled over to a computer console on the far wall, and now he was looking at them, laughing.

"No!" Poison yelled, shooting an arrow at the guard.

Squire was over there, hacking off the outstretched arm before the guard was even aware he was there.

Both of them were too late!

"Alarm," Squire said in shock. "He's tripped the alarm. We have no time!"

"Damn-it!" Eagledawn cursed.

They were all silent, watching the door Plaza had secured and listening for the sound of oncoming footfalls.

"I am reluctant to do this because I hate the idea of splitting up, but they know somebody is here now," Eagledawn said, and then ordered. "Poison, Heart, and Plaza on the Dungeon. Squire and I will cover the other place."

"The Cleansing station," Squire corrected.

Poison loaded an arrow into her crossbow as she led the two others across the room to the opposite door.

"Watch your backs. Keep in radio contact," Eagledawn called after them.

This was the last thing he wanted to do, strength in numbers, and now they were already divided. He looked over at Squire. "Lead the way!"

It was dark out there under the canopy of the trees. Shadows played along the forest floor and in the depth of the trunks of foliage. Standing on the edge of the tree line, looking in like some spectator, he switched his vision to a thermal imaging so any warm blooded animal would be more easily visible against the cooler inanimate objects. He then increased the audio input of his cybernetic receiver.

Silence.

Out of the guard's room and down a hall. Plaza led them left and then left again. After the first corner they ran into two more guards coming to answer the alarm, but they were quickly taken care of. It was easy when they were both suddenly so love struck at the sight of Heart that they were oblivious to Plaza choking them into unconsciousness.

They pressed the door close just in time as they ducked into a room to avoid an oncoming garrison. Between their clanging armour and yelling the soldiers had been loud enough to give the trio enough warning to hide.

Heart smiled to Poison as she let out a held breath. "Close!"

Poison nodded her agreement before turning to Plaza. "How much further?"

"We are almost there," he guaranteed. "We're almost at the long stair that leads down to the dungeon. That is where we will be most vulnerable. We will have to move quickly."

"Don't they have any elevators?" Heart quipped. "My legs are killing me after the hike and all the stairs already."

"It's because you wear those boots with heels," Poison shot back at her.

"I have to wear a heel because of my cloak!"

"Then blame Wilson, the stupid costumes were his idea."

"Well you don't wear one. Didn't you get the memo?"

"Got it. Ignored it, just like I do with everything else that he says." Poison half smiled at her. The two of them were bantering which meant the two of them were both cracking under the stress. "I don't agree with you much, but I am in on the elevator thing."

"Well, you would think so," Heart returned. "Half of this place is designed like a spaceship and the other half is a medieval castle."

"And the dungeon was designed after hell," Plaza said staidly as he slid out of the room.

Five guards had trailed Eagledawn and Squire down their path. Now they all lay in bloodied heaps around their feet.

"Your speed and that sword make for a very offensive combination. I know you are angry, and I know the situation we are in, but like Heart said earlier, killing like this is not us, this is not what we do. Last resort only, not first tactic."

Squire stared at him. "I'm new at this, instinct is just taking over I guess."

Here in this mountain, in the Liegelord's domain, killing was the only way to survive, and Brian knew his only option to make it through this was to give himself over to what he once was.

The noise of more soldiers preceded their presence.

"The whole place is alive with that alarm." Eagledawn said. "Let's push forward. At least they are coming from behind us."

They pressed on for what seemed like forever in the maze of tunnels and halls. They stopped at a crossroads. A hall led off to the left or the right, or there was the stairway in the front of them.

"Which way?" Eagledawn asked while looking behind them. They were still being pursued and the noise that followed seemed to be getting louder. It sounded like the pursuing entourage was growing in number.

Squire made no answer as he pondered his options.

"Which way?"

"I'm thinking!"

"Think faster, they are getting closer," the worry wasn't well hidden in Eagledawn's voice. It sounded like a campaign of savages was coming.

"Up!" Squire announced and started to climb the stairs. "Sorry, I had to get my bearings again, but this leads to a type of banquet hall, at the far end is another exit, and then we are almost at the Cleansing Station."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, if we are fast, hopefully that bunch behind us will think we went down one of the halls."

"Then let's be fast," Eagledawn followed him up.

At the top of the short stair they escaped through the door into the room.

"Welcome!" A deep, powerful voice said.

Shit!

Wrong turn!

"Liegelord!" Squire turned in horror.

Kalide would stop every few steps. Look and listen, then move forward again. Thermals picked up the outline of a deer that shot out to his right. Small birds, a squirrel. Forest noise and the whistle of the soft breeze through the pine boughs.

Human instinct would have raised the hairs on the back of his neck if he still had them. He could feel something out there, but his cybernetics were blind to distinguish what.

He pressed forward. He was not concerned with something doubling back on him to the ship. He wasn't that far yet and the Bethlehem's alarm would be transmitted to him if the motion detector went off.

Rustling from above! His augmented hearing picked it up, his human ear deaf to the approach, but too late as something dropped from above. He had walked right under it. The weight slammed into his back, driving him to the dirt.

Thermals had been useless, but at least he had found it now, and that wasn't some animal that had landed on him. At least he had not been foolishly hunting a spooked deer, and his instincts had not failed him.

He got to his feet and spun to face his attacker, only to see the shadow leap into the trees.

Whistling pierced his cybernetics, followed by the thunk of an arrow denting his metal. It had come from the opposite direction. Two of them?

Another arrow. Again from elsewhere.

Three.

Now they were calling to each other, signals, one came from further ahead.

That made four.

Like a baited fish he had walked straight into their trap.

Down the stone steps, lined by the stone walls with mounted torches that barely lit their way, and it was up to their eyes to adjust.

"I cannot believe I am back here," Plaza looked back over his shoulder at the two women following him into the mountain depths. "The darkness. The cold. The screams."

But right now there was only silence. Plaza had never known the dungeon to be silent.

The trio crept into the shadows as they entered their destination and were welcomed into the dungeon with the pungent mixture of urine, feces, blood and decay. Larger, brighter torches showed off metal cages. The racks and tools of torture that were commonly used on the residents of this foul place were painted with dried blood. But nothing moved. Skeletons were the only occupants of the cells, the white bones a contrast to the thin layer of dirty hay that made up their beds.

"Empty." Plaza stepped forward out of the shadows. There was no reason to hide now.

"My god, the stench," Heart said behind a gloved hand that feebly tried to block the putrid smell. "It makes the air feel heavy."

"It shouldn't be like this," Plaza turned to them with concern.

"He's not here," Poison was half relieved and half disappointed. "David's not here..."

"We make for the Cleansing station," Heart finished her thought. "Meet up with the others."

They raced back for the stairs as Heart belayed into her communicator. "We're empty handed here, Eagledawn, we're coming to you."

No reply was received, but it was possible they were too deep, interfering with the signal.

Coming for David, Poison thought to herself. They were so close. She was so close to having him back.

Not close enough.

Their exit was blocked, the stairway filled with guards making their descent.

Trapped!
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

An instant reaction ignited by the spark of anger and fuelled with a blending of fear and hate, Squire shot forward across the room, targeting his past creator, his past captor.

Sword drawn, lightning fast, but his attack was repulsed by Liegelord's left hand that shot up, and at such a velocity, Squire bounced off and went flying backwards, slamming-sliding along the floor as his sword made its own spiralling journey out of his grasp.

"Did you think you could surprise me? Catch me unaware, Squire? I can track a flea in a hailstorm. I made you. I am your giver and your taker."

Seeing that Squire was retrieving his sword and getting to his feet, Eagledawn stepped forward. "We are here looking for a friend of ours, and the one named Kriegen?"

"The immortal? He is my plaything now," the Liegelord said, sitting forward in interest.

David was here. Relief settled over Eagledawn. They had found him and this had not been a wild goose chase after all.

"Where is he?" Eagledawn demanded.

"Why should it matter," the overbearing, overconfident, oversized albino mocked.

"Cleansing Station," Squire stated.

At the same time, Heart's message came in broken pieces. The Dungeon was clear.

"Go!" Eagledawn ordered, not taking his eyes off of the king of the mountain before him.

"I'm staying," Squire replied. "I've got your back."

"How noble," Liegelord clapped his hands and laughed. "The noble Squire."

"Go, do your part!" Eagledawn demanded.

"I'm not leaving."

Eagledawn chanced looking away from the predator before him and turned to Squire. "Find him, and meet the others."

"Others?" Liegelord interjected again, feigning surprise. "Yes, run young Squire, run to them."

"I'm not afraid of you," Squire held his ground. "I came back because I am not afraid."

"Oh, but you are. The fetid stench of fear leaks from your every pore."

Eagledawn could tell the Liegelord was laying the bait and Squire was preparing to attack again, so he snapped to hold Squire's attention. "Go! Now!"

Squire listened this time and ran for the door they had entered from.

"Run," Liegelord yelled after him. "Run like the coward you are. It is the only thing you have done since the beginning of this fairy tale."

The king motioned and several of his knights slipped away in pursuit of the escaping Squire. The four remaining knights began spreading out around the room; slowly positioning to flank Eagledawn.

It was hard not to be impressed by his surroundings. Ornate carvings of red wood that lined the border of the ceiling against the back drop of sterile, metal walls that must have run about thirty feet up. That space would help him if he needed to take flight. The centre table itself was large enough to seat up to fifty men, but at this moment it only sat the Liegelord. Powder white skinned, wearing a heavy fur cape, and sipping from a jewel-laced goblet.

"We are taking what is ours, and you will hand over Kriegen!" Eagledawn demanded.

"How dare you," the three words were exclaimed by Liegelord's fist banging down against the table. "You invade my house. Your pack of fools won't even make it ten feet."

"How dare you," Eagledawn gave no ground. A knight was close. Eagledawn spun, grabbed his arm and pulled him close, taking the first one down as he finished. "You invaded my home. Your Kriegen murdered my wife."

"Well, that was just an unlucky scenario, Wilson Donner."

"You know me," Eagledawn was taken back in surprise, stunned at being called by his real name.

"Oh, I know you," the Liegelord smiled a lion's grin.

Silent shadows. Cold to his thermal sensors, invisible to his radar. Listen. Listen closely. Focussing on his enhanced cybernetic sense of hearing, but mostly on one of the things machinery and electronics could not replace or imitate, his natural instinct, Kalide moved slowly through the forest. Obviously the Hunters were invisible to technology. That was how one of them was able to sneak into their chambers at Stardawn, but he could feel them out there, and even though they were quiet, masters of stealth, they were not silent and could be heard.

So listen!

The slight snap of a branch, the soft whistle of air being cut. Kalide turned and shot the cartridge from his right armament. From the small ball that he had ejected ribbons of tensile material spread out like a hundred baby snakes escaping their egg for the first time, ensnaring one of the Hunters as it dropped from its sanctuary of the trees to attack. The trap barely held it back against a tree as the Hunter thrashed and struggled to break free. An eight inch triangular blade ejected from Kalide's forearm as he charged forward and drove the blade into the Hunter.

Face to face with his enemy, he withdrew the blade attached to his arm and stabbed it forward three more times before the Hunter stopped its struggle.

That was one.

Kalide dropped to the ground and rolled. Left arm extended, a cartridge barrel spun around his left wrist firing multiple flechettes, small triangular knives similar to arrowheads, at a second Hunter that was closing the gap. The tiny knives ripped into the Hunter, but it barely slowed the rhino charge.

The two bodies slammed together, snapping back through low hanging branches and falling onto the forest's carpeted floor of dead pine needles.

Kalide was the one that emerged from the entanglement first as the Hunter twisted and writhed as its skin bubbled and burned from the acid pack Kalide had smashed against its body. Kalide was impressed that the Hunter did not scream or cry out in its agony.

That was two.

He had not come away from the party completely unscathed, as his systems constant diagnostic program warned a hydraulic line in his upper right thigh had been cut. He would be at a limp, a disadvantage, while his system rerouted itself to compensate for the damage.

An arrow came from nowhere, slicing across the open skin of his left bicep. No sensors this time, just straight pain receptors shooting up to the brain. It was followed by another strike to his left shin.

Grazing shots. Warning shots. Toying with him. They were letting him know they had found his weakness, and that they were pissed at the loss of two of their brethren.

They were no longer hiding, but coming at him from all sides, three of them, approaching with swords drawn, strength in numbers; he was no longer going to be able to pick them off one by one.

Downgrading his audio input so he wouldn't impair himself, he emitted a high pitch sonic squeal to attack their heightened senses. It gave the Hunter's pause and him and opening to make a run for it.

The damage in his right leg had been compensated for, but the cut to his left calf was stinging with every heavy step as he crashed through the forest. They were the wolves silent in their hunt as they danced amongst the trees in pursuit while he was the rhino charging straight through, all power and no grace.

He was noisy and his leg needed tending to. The dripping blood was leaving an easy trail for them to follow. Along the rock wall was an opening that he ducked into, a shallow cave that seemed recessed enough to hide in while he bandaged his leg and assessed his next move.

Backing into the cave while watching the entrance for any movement, from behind there was a quiet echo off the stone walls as he heard the chambering of a bullet.

"Don't you dare move, there is a gun pointed at the back of your head!"

At that precise moment he received the internal security alarm from the Bethlehem. Somebody was trying to tamper with his ship.

It was always the belief that the death of his wife was a random, violent act. The questions as to why had gone unanswered. Why their house on that night? In the aftermath he had never been able to figure out the reasoning, nothing had been stolen. A violent, random act that had changed the course of his life.

Then he had come face to face with Elizabeth's killer, and now he was reeling with the insight that maybe the murder had not been random at all. The Liegelord had knowledge of the event and knew his real name.

"You know me?" The confused words slipped from him a second time, as if he did not, could not believe what he had heard. "How...why?"

The surprise had knocked the wind from him, and in their initial struggle for dominance, Eagledawn had just allowed the scale to tip to Liegelord's advantage.

And the Liegelord revelled in it. "Two things were coming into play and converging. I was the nexus and with Kriegen it was a perfect two birds, one stone scenario."

"That night you stole from me..." but he couldn't finish. Those images of Elizabeth in an ever-increasing pool of blood freshly emerged as if it had happened yesterday, threatening to steal his attention and he had to push past them to focus on what he was hearing.

"There were certain parties interested in staging a takeover of your conglomerate," Liegelord continued. "And the murder of your wife was a great distraction. It really threw you off your game for a while. You almost lost everything, and it was surprising to see you barely hold off that aggressive take over.

"Secondly, your companies progressive research in stem cells, and the breakthrough you were achieving in radical gene splicing techniques would allow me to break my own barrier in cloning and genetic realignment operations, but to break into your labs would have sent off too many alarms, made you aware of what had been stolen, and I prefer to move more discreetly."

Grinning, the Liegelord leaned forward to further accentuate the revelations he was delivering. "Some of your employees were bribed, one was kidnapped and tortured, but I discovered you kept back-ups of your research at home, so I sent Kriegen to steal from you. Killing your wife left you oblivious to what his real mission had been." Laughing in his pride. "And the Pandora's Box you enabled me to open. Just look at what I have created."

Liegelord stood with his thundering presence. "And then Kriegen brings me the immortal to play with. To finally have the secret of eternal life. With that I could accelerate my plans. With what I have accomplished I will be the cure. I will be the power. I will be the government. I will be revered as a god!"

"You can't be serious?" Eagledawn mocked and he could tell it had an infuriating effect on the Liegelord. Eagledawn spoke to keep himself from throwing up. His actions, his life are what had jeopardized Elizabeth, and it was hard to control his emotions, to keep his burning rage quiet. Every instinct screamed for him to leap out and attack the one before him that had set the stage for Elizabeth's death, but he was here with his team and he was biding for time, waiting to hear from one of them, but the communicator link was silent.

"Have you learned nothing yet?" Liegelord pounded the table. "Just look at yourself and your band of cohorts. What you are! You have seen but an inkling of what I am creating here." He stepped closer. "The tide of evolution has begun to roll, and I am Poseidon riding the crest of its wave!"

Stepping backwards to maintain the space between them, Eagledawn replied. "It's not evolution, its forced change. You're not a god, but a fake, a murderer and a thief!"

Liegelord lunged, reaching for Eagledawn's neck.

"Do you think to wound me with your words? Nothing can stop me," his hands found their target. "Not you, not anyone!"

"You'd be surprised at what we can do," Eagledawn gasped, elongated nails digging in to the albino white hide of the Liege.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Running, it was what he was designed to do. Sweat beading off of his forehead, coating him in a layer between clothes and skin. There was only one place to go, the Cleansing Station. Squire ran, remembering full well now the pain he had suffered in that part of the mountain as they transformed him, stripping away the life of Brian Welder. Cleansing the DNA matrix of any impurities and redesigning it to make him something more than human. The perfect protégé, The Squire.

In the higher levels of the mountain where the Caregivers skulked and tormented, everything was sterile and clean. White walls with bright overhead lights and the stench of antiseptic seemed to linger everywhere, having permeated everything.

Coming around a corner he skidded in his boots to an abrupt stop. The Squire stood in the middle of a long stretch of hall, his chest heaving up and down.

He had run headlong into the horde that Eagledawn and he had evaded earlier, and several Knights still pursued in his wake, almost upon him.

For the briefest moment he closed his eyes and envisioned his sister and his parents. Then he slowly withdrew his sword, and stared at it, feeling its heft and balance, giving himself into what he had become.

From both sides they pressed the advantage, closing the noose.

His body moved so fast it appeared he was making seamless cuts, across the back, down the stomach, the blade of his sword kissing their exposed necks. Then the blood would flow. The delayed reaction before they realized they had suffered mortal wounds with their screams echoing off the walls. The Liegelord had done his job too well, brought him too close to perfection.

In one of the myriad of halls comprising the Liegelord's fortress he had been besieged. Twenty? Thirty? However many, he was slaughtering them. Moving in a blur he was untouchable. Covered in their blood, his sword hungry for their flesh, his teeth bared in a thirsty grin, he was sailing as he fought his way to the cleansing stations. His name was Brian. He was the Squire, and this was payback.

It had been an ageless morning with streams of sunshine heralding through the openings of the forest ceiling and the scents of pine and balsam fresh with dew.

Now the Bethlehem's alarm was calling out to him, he had been wounded and he was being hunted. With his arms raised to signal to the person holding the gun to the back of his head that he was non-threatening, Kalide could see the rain begin to fall which quickly turned into heavy drumbeat drops.

"I am being hunted," he said to the person behind him. "We are in jeopardy the longer we stay here."

"What are you?" A female voice. There were two of them.

He remained calm and reasoning. "We don't have time for introductions and twenty questions. If I wanted to, I could take that gun from you. If I had wanted to it would have already happened."

"Don't you dare move!"

"You have to trust me. I won't hurt you. Like I said I would have already if I had intended it."

Probably campers in the wrong place at the wrong time and he wanted to avoid the noise of a scuffle, and he really didn't want that gun of theirs to go off and alert the Hunters to his whereabouts. Miserable as the rain was at least it would help to mask their scents.

"After the week we've had we are not trusting anyone," the man said pressing the barrel a little harder against Kalide's metal skull.

"Look, I am being hunted. You are at risk. We are all at risk of being discovered the longer we stay here. I am walking away. Keep the gun on me, or shoot and give away our position, but I have to get back to my ship. It is the only defensive position and I'm receiving a signal from the alarm."

"Your ship?" Then ladies voice was suddenly filled with relief.

The pressure of the gun was released as the man pulled it away. "We were making our way to that ship. We had seen it land."

Kalide turned to face the man and woman. Both were dirtied and haggard with wild eyes of fear, and he could see their once expensive hiking gear, had since been torn. The man smelled worse, stale sweat to match his week-long growth.

The man held out his hand, tattooed with dried mud and finger blackened with dirt that had caked under the fingernails. He was still a little wary, the shaking gave it away, but they were obviously exhausted, hungry and at a loss. "This is my wife, Sara. I'm Jared Welder. Take us with you, please help us?"

"The Welders!" Kalide stepped back in surprise. "I am here with your son. He is with a unit I am part of."

"My God!" The woman, Sara, dropped to her knees.

"Our son?" The man was disbelieving.

"Your son, Brian Welder?"

"How?" He was dumbfounded. "He's been gone so long. He's been gone two years?"

"I told you, I told you," Sara repeated. Through all the dirt her tears were tracing clean lines down her face. "I knew he was alive. All this time, I knew it."

"We've come to this area twice a year. Every chance we get to look for him. We never gave up hope." Jared said. "How?"

"We need to move. I'll explain as we go," Kalide helped Sara to her feet and led the way out of the cave. "Stay close."

The morning shower subsided, leaving Kalide with a heavy pack of dread to carry. The wetted earth would be more impressionable with their footprints. The Welders stayed close, but it was hard keeping them quiet after the revelation that their son was alive.

Kalide had to concede to some of their questions to hopefully appease. "Brian was held captive in a mountain refuge close to here. The same place the things that are hunting me are from."

"We've been running from them also for the past few days," Jared said.

"It's a miracle we've survived," Sara commented.

"We have been coming out here, canvassing campers, looking for any clue as to our son's disappearance."

Kalide motioned for them to stop, as they squatted for cover along the bank of an old dried up river cut that had overgrown with bushes. He had thought the Hunter's would have been on them by now.

Minutes passed. Nothing, so they were on the move again.

"This was a new area for us. Four days ago we were attacked and our two guides were killed. We've been running and hiding ever since, until we saw your ship land."

"It was our only hope."

"We are here because one of our friends was kidnapped. We have reason to believe it was by the same people that had kidnapped your son," Kalide spoke as he edged closer to the clearing with the Bethlehem. "You son had escaped, but was the only one who knew where our friend might be."

"But he's okay right? I mean why didn't he call us, his family, when he escaped."

"Your son had some memory problems. We met him through some strange circumstances. Your daughter has met up with him. She had tried to reach you."

"Our satellite phone was lost in the initial attack we suffered."

"She is staying at our headquarters for safe keeping until we return. Once we reach the ship you can contact her. She'll be glad to know you are okay."

Besides a few scares, Kalide led them to the outside of the clearing without incident. There was no way he had escaped the Hunter's that easily. He searched the outer rim of the clearing and around the ship for any evidence of their whereabouts.

"Looks clear," he whispered to the couple behind him. "The alarm signal I was receiving was from motion sensors along the ship."

"How do we know they are not inside?"

"None of the entry points look to have been compromised," Kalide assured. "More so, part of the safeguard built into the security systems is a reflective current lining any entranceway."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, you touch, you get hurt." He smiled what form of smile he could at them.

A gambit of detection devices were run through his system. Everything came up clear. Nothing to be seen or heard, but Kalide already knew the array of sensors could not be relied on. The Hunters appeared to be invisible to the electronics. This left them as sitting ducks where they were. He was left with no choice but to risk the gauntlet.

"I've disabled the security," He turned to the weary couple. "On my mark we make a run for the ship. I'll activate the entranceway ramp as we get closer. You'll see it."

They both nodded. There was a feeling of safety in their sanctuary of bushes, hidden, but both their faces gave away their discontent of the thought of being out in the open, exposed.

Mark.

The sign was given.

Kalide led the pack. After the briefest hesitation they followed out of the bushes, sprinting. It was one-hundred metres at the most and fear propelled them.

Turning to check their progress, Sara was the obvious runner in the family as she was close behind, but Jared had quickly trailed off, his energy depleted from having little food or water the past few days, and then Kalide could see them, Hunters, two of them breaching the forest line into the clearing. They had been duped into a false sense of security, and were now caught in the open.

Kalide doubled back to cover their escape, tearing past a confused Sara as he yelled, "Don't stop! Don't stop!"

She risked a look over her shoulders and screamed, as the corner of her eye caught her husband falling to the ground.

"I have him, don't stop," Kalide yelled again, pushing forward, firing off everything and anything in his arsenal.

Two arrows were perched in the back of Jared Welder and he wasn't moving. Kalide hefted the injured man over his left shoulder and made for the ship again.

Arrows speckled in his path, and the soft thunk marked the sound of a third arrow landing in his package.

Running, he turned and fired again. The Hunters were in pursuit and gaining fast, but he was on the ramp, rising into the interior of the Bethlehem's as the ramp lifted him on its closing ascent. Resetting security via his onboard systems, Kalide moved quickly to the back of the bay and the small infirmary area, laying Jared on one of the tables.

Sara was there, shaking, terrified at the loss of her husband. She was trying to speak but tears were muffling her thoughts.

"He'll be okay, just give me a minute and he'll be okay. You'd be surprised at how adept I am at being a field medic," Kalide tried to assure her. "But I'm going to need your help saving your husband, so pull yourself together, you're safe now!"

She was frozen; he looked at her to reaffirm his statement. "You're safe now!"

A sword birthed from inside of her, driven through her back, with a spray of blood. From nowhere a Hunter had appeared, killing Sara Welder.

His words had been uttered too soon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The dungeon.

Stinking pit of a hellhole. The expansive prison was a long rectangular shape. At the northern end was the main stairwell where prisoners were brought down to be tortured, or to suffer a purgatory until they were transported to the Cleansing Station for something much worse.

Metal cages, what could be deemed cells, lined the lengths of both walls with their floors of dirty hay and manacles, bolted to the walls, the only décor. The cells held no prisoners at this time, just the mice and haunted bone remnants of past occupants.

Considering their exit was blocked by the encroaching mass of bloodthirsty guards, chances seemed pretty favourable that Poison, Heart and Plaza would soon be filling some of those vacancies.

"Heart?" Poison asked.

"Too many for all at once," she sounded worried.

"Another way out?" Poison asked Plaza as they backed up together.

The guards had finished their descent and were spilling out from the stairwell, and they were thirsty. Pushing against each other like tightly penned animals, leering at the two woman, licking lips and snarling as they staged themselves and spread out taking their places.

"Straight back. There's an antechamber," Plaza answered steering them further back through the dungeon, maintaining the distance. "It's the prison watchmen's area."

Up against the south wall, Plaza held the middle with Poison to his left and Heart on his right.

Slowly the guards moved in. There were approximately thirty of them now and their growing number felt like a pressing weight within the confines of the dungeon.

"Door?" Poison asked as she shot one of the guards that had edged to close.

Contact. Reaching out with her empathic persuasion two other guards on Heart's right were love stricken. Emotions filled with so much love for her that they stopped dead in their tracks. She twisted her influence and the two love-struck men saw their compatriots moving closer to their heart's desire. Their love churned to the sourness of extreme jealousy.

The right side of the room erupted in chaos as the two suitors, driven by their jealous lust, attacked the other men.

"The door?" Poison yelled again while releasing another arrow.

In cases where contact could not be made, or if circumstances warranted a more aggressive approach, Heart always carried a sidearm, holstered on her right thigh. She pushed that part of her cloak back and withdrew the nine-millimetre Beretta from its side holster, firing off a couple of cover shots before reaching for the door to the antechamber. "Got it!"

"One second," Plaza said as he grabbed the two large torches capping the entranceway. The first was hurled to the floor where it immediately stretched out its flame to the dry straw. The second torch flew into a guards' face with firework sparks before it dropped with its target to the floor to create more flame, and briefly wall their escape.

Inside the smaller room Plaza ran over to the computer terminal. "There should be magnetic moorings to lock the door, but the old code isn't working."

He didn't fuss, but moved quickly to bar the door with what was available. Shouts to bring it down came from the other side. The fire from the torches had not been enough to deter them for long.

"There," Plaza pointed after flipping the heavy tabled on its end against the door. "Stairwell. The Caregivers come this way to select their next experiments. Up that way and we won't be too far from catching up with Squire and Eagledawn."

Heavy thumps came from the other side, and the door gave way a little.

Plaza braced the door, arms and legs of steel strength. "I'll hold, get a head start."

Heart was on the move first, up the stairs two at a time.

Poison held back. "Leave it. We need you to guide us we don't know the way."

There was a sudden quiet from the other side. Plaza eased himself from his position and pressed his ear to the door. "They're retreating from the dungeon. They must think the door is locked."

He stood up and made to follow Poison up the stairs. "We don't have much time. They are probably coming around the long way."

It was a ruse.

By the time Plaza and Poison were completing their first few steps up the stairs the guards busted through the door, filling the antechamber. Men armed with crossbows had moved to the forefront and released a shower of arrows that clattered against the stone steps in wake of Poison and Plaza's footfalls.

They missed their mark because they were shooting wildly, cramming themselves into the small room, hungry in their pursuit.

Holding the advantage of height upon the stairwell made it easy, and the way they were packing themselves in like sardines practically made it impossible for Poison to miss. She could have shot blind and still hit one of them if it wasn't for having to dodge their volleys at the same time.

She fired an arrow, spun behind Plaza for cover as she loaded another bolt and came out to his left firing again.

The crossbowmen had pulled back and the men behind swarmed in front to climb the stairs, tripping over the soldiers falling to Poison's attack.

Hammering sounds engulfed the screams and shouts as Plaza pounded the stone walls. Arms of pure strength and force created tectonic splinters in the rock.

"I'm out," Poison referred to her depleted supply of arrows as she backed her way further up the stairs. "Do whatever you are going to do."

Pounding and ripping he worked feverishly to tear the wall down but came away with a large boulder instead.

From above the echo of Heart's scream cascaded down the hall.

"Quickly" Poison shouted as she took off after Heart's cry.

Before following, Plaza lobbed the boulder down the stairwell where it made a thunderous bounce, crushing several and blocking the way for the others.

Reaching the peak of her ascension, Heart turned right in response to the previous guidance from Plaza below. She had a good start on the other two, but at least she could ensure the way was clear before they proceeded.

It wasn't.

Like wraiths they came forward. Draped in long black cloaks they seemed to not walk but slither. These were not the same as the soldiers they had encountered. She could only surmise they were the Caregivers.

They were coming fast and Poison had not caught up yet, but based off of the noise and commotion she could not retreat. Heart lowered her hood. There were about twelve of them, a larger group than what she was used too, but she reached out nonetheless. The pressure of trying so many was dizzying. Feel. Ascertain. Push. Feel.

She gasped and stumbled in an emotional backlash. Except for a sadistic joy, a perverted pleasure, there was nothing. An emptiness, drawing her into a black void.

And a scream was her only defence as they were upon her pulling her down.

Poison came charging down the hall in response to Heart's cry. Before her she caught sight of wisps of Heart's white cloak piled under the sea of black.

She came sliding along the floor, splintering the attackers as she captured Heart in her arms, pulling her back with one arm wrapped around the mid-section of her limp team-mate, skitter-kicking along the floor as her other arm reached down and withdrew Heart's sidearm, firing blindly, sending the black cloaks flailing in different directions.

Dragging, screaming and firing. Plaza flew over her, the strength of one blow snapping the neck of one of the Caregivers to the side. The others scattered in the face of such aggression.

For the moment they were alone. They raced forward taking sanctuary in an adjacent room.

"Oh honey," Poison stated. Now that they had stopped, Poison was able to get a clear view of the extent of Heart's wounds. Lacerations, bite marks, her left arm was limp and askew. The once white cloak marked with crimson, tie-dyed with the red of her lost blood.

"Help me!" she called to Plaza who was watching the door. "Her cloak. Tear it so I can bandage her."

She laid her friends body on the floor and kneeling beside her began tending to Heart. "God damn-it, Holly!" Poison cursed as Plaza passed her makeshift bandages. "God damn-it, what a mess."

Plaza watched the door. He had locked it behind them upon entering the empty room, but he knew it would not hold for long. He could already hear the yelling and approaching footfalls echoing from the other side. They had only bought themselves a few moments, and those moments were quickly waning.

Limp and unconscious, Poison could not revive her, but she worked feverishly to bandage the wounds, stop the persistent bleeding.

"Holly is down! We need immediate evac," she called out to the communicator, immediately thinking of David at the same time.

"Kalide we need to arrange evac now, Heart is injured," she called out a second time.

The response came through broken and peppered with static. "Can't!"

Poison shook her head, "What? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Infiltrated!" Kalide's voice came through broken again and broke off.

Crouching over Heart's body, Poison lifted her head to cradle it in her arms, and ran her fingers through her friend's hair to remove the blood matted, sweaty strands from her eyes and forehead. Her breath was shallow, strained; she had sustained deeper, more serious injuries.

"We're getting out of here," she said, suddenly pragmatic, and grabbed Heart under her arms preparing to drag her.

"I'll take her," Plaza came forward.

"Its fine, I've got her."

"Give her to me. We'll be able to move faster if I carry her."

He was right, she was being stubborn. It was in her nature.

"Okay, okay," she conceded, laying Heart down gently so he could retrieve her. "But don't you fucking leave me behind!"

"Like you said, we're getting out of here," he held out his hand to her. "Side by side."

In another time, another life she had been left behind, betrayed. She accepted the offering, holding his hand, and stared into his eyes, trying to read him.

"Side by side," she agreed. "Let's make a run for it!"
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The halls that had been left in his wake were now carpeted with blood. A marker, what he now considered a warning to say the Squire had been there. The sword he carried had drunk from so many victims that he could barely keep hold of the hilt as it was slick with blood. Stopping felt like an eternity in his fury, but Squire knelt down to clean his blade with the cape of one of the fallen knights.

The Liegelord's knights. He had trained with them, done horrible things in their company, all in an attempt to be accepted into their elite ranks. And now in a matter of minutes he had slain three of them.

Wiping the blood from his sword Brian came back to himself. To survive the army he had encountered he had given himself in to what he had been under the Liegelord's rule, and for a few moments there he had almost lost himself to the Squire once again as he was drenched in the frenzy of blood and violence.

To survive he had to contend with a fragile balance. Retain who he was while utilizing the power he had, but mostly he had to focus on getting out of here, so he could be free once and for all and reunite with his family.

Two guards watched the door to the Cleansing Station. Taken by surprise they were easily dispatched. After cutting them down, Brian stood there panting heavily. Not because he was tired of running, but the violence, the smell and sight of his victim's blood was like a drug. Pulling at him, calling to the Squire to come forward.

Fighting with himself, resisting the urges, he stumbled into the Cleansing Station, striking down the three Caregivers that were huddle around the man strung up in a crucifixion. Shackled and pierced with tubes and wires the man stirred when roused by the pleas of mercy from the Caregivers.

"Your name is David?" Looking up at the poor soul, Squire asked. Whatever he had endured a few years ago paled in comparison to what this man had been made to suffer over a few days.

Squire hardly expected a response, but caught what was barely a mumble. "Who...who are you?"

"Your friends sent me...they're here."

Eyes slowly opened, fluttering to shutter out the brightness of the lights. "You're that kid from the alley?"

"Name's Squire. I'm here to get you out. I was told you saved my life that night, I am here to return the favour."

"And they say karma's a bitch," there was barely a crease of a smile on David's parched and cracked lips. "She's looking like a pretty girl to me."

He had endured. Tormented with physical trials, and wallowing in emotional anguish as he had tried to retreat within the recesses of his mind that had only held more pain and nightmares of the past. David had suffered almost to the breaking point. Almost, but they had come. At times he had doubted, wishing more for the warm embrace of death to come claim him, or wondering if his eternal life would ever feel and end to the pain that was inflicted upon him, but they had come.

"Hold on and I will release you," Squire moved over to one of the control panels and disengaged the manacles holding Winterkill.

Winterkill dropped like a stone to the floor.

"I'm sorry," Squire said as he ran to his side and tried to help him up.

"S'okay. I heal!"

"So I can see," Squire couldn't help but be sarcastic.

Limp, frail and uncoordinated with atrophied muscles, Squire knew full well that this man had been a victim of the Liegelord's machinations because he had attempted to save Plaza and himself.

And as Squire wrapped David' arm around his neck to help him up and support him in an attempt to walk, his mind urged him to run, but every fiber of his being told him that if he had one chance at redemption for the atrocities he had executed as the Squire, it was ensuring this man escaped. And be it step by agonizing step he would not fail him.

From the inside of the room they had taken refuge muffled noises and shouts could be heard echoing throughout the halls.

"We must be too deep. The communicator's signal is broken, so I can't seem to reach anyone," Poison said.

"So we still try for the Cleansing Station?" Plaza confirmed.

"I don't think we have any other choice. We have to get Heart out of here as soon as possible, but we have to find the others also."

Holding the pistol Poison had taken from Heart, she checked the cartridge. Five shots remained from the magazine's fifteen shot capacity. Poison came closer to Heart who was still unconscious, cradled in Plaza's arms.

"Hold on Holly," She whispered in her ear as she retrieved a back-up clip from Heart's leg holster.

They both let out a concealed breath in anticipation of the gauntlet that lay before them. Poison nodded confirmation to go and with one swift motion Plaza kicked the door right off its hinges so it flew out into the hall. Two of the guards lying in wait were caught in the door's flight path and created a meaty buffer when it slammed into the opposite wall.

Poison was out first, turning right and firing twice from the Beretta.

"Left!" Plaza directed her, and she spun and fired twice more, clearing a path as Plaza came out of the room behind her, bowling over two other guards as he thundered down the hall.

Racing through the halls, Plaza led the way, carrying the blood soaked Heart. With a pack of pursuers in tow, Poison followed. Sweat beaded on her forehead and was stringing her hair against her scalp. She breathed deep, pumping her arms and legs. She wasn't even sure if Heart was still alive.

Was she crying? Seriously was she crying? Couldn't be, beads of sweat had run into her eyes, and were now painting her cheeks.

Past a doorway, she had lost focus thinking of Heart's condition, always a part of her thinking about David, and a steam train slammed into her. Three bodies, hitting her from the side, taking her off her feet and crushing her into the stone siding of the corridor as they tried to restrain her.

She drove her elbow forward, hammering one of the guard's face and helmet. "Get...the...fuck...off..."

Her fist flung wild into the cartilage of another's nose.

More rushed out into the hall, pressing onto her, swarming.

Through the mesh of bodies she glimpsed Plaza's back, hurrying down the hall.

Running away. Leaving her. She was being left...again.

This was why she had trust issues.

Blows came from everywhere but she did not relent in her defence. She struck out whenever, wherever she could, but the sheer weight of their bodies was confining.

The weight lifted, screams followed, she could see light again, and Plaza's hand reached down to her. Lifting her up.

"You left me," she reprimanded.

"You could have called out," he was matter of fact.

She stared at him, certain that she had, a moment of doubt, but still grateful for the save.

The other pursuers were catching up. They were not safe yet.

"Can you carry her?" Plaza asked.

After the beating she had just been subjected to she lied. "Yeah."

"Then go, I'll hold them off."

He gave her directions, then turned to the oncoming wave, snarling.

She wasn't sure if she had ever been so tired. Running, fighting, the physical damage and emotional toil. The best she could do at the moment was carefully pull Heart along. It would be quicker to throw her over her shoulder in an army carry, but she wanted to be as gently as possible and she was not sure of the extent of Heart's internal injuries.

Down the hall, Plaza fought. Flashes of his red armour amongst the soldiers, as bodies flew this way and that. He was the levy holding back the tide so she could escape.

For a moment back there she had thought he was abandoning her, but he had been unaware, and he would have had to secure Heart first.

She had been the doubting Thomas, but he had upheld his end of the bargain.

Down the hall she saw Plaza drop to one knee before recovering, then faltering again.

Resting Heart as comfortable as possible in this god-forsaken place, Poison then checked the replacement clip she had loaded. Ten rounds left.

She raced towards him, firing off the last ten shots, hitting a target with each one as she dove into the middle of the brawl.

Ducking, a mace swung above her, the cut air of the swift motion felt in her hair.

"Head!" Poison shouted.

The mace wielder's batting average was not improved when the mace clanged against the armoured skull of Plaza.

"Thanks," he called over his shoulder. "But I told you to get out of here."

"We had a deal," Poison sidestepped the forward thrust of a sword which embedded itself in an unintended target. "Side by side, remember, I'm not leaving you."

Somehow in the midst of it they found themselves smiling at each other.

They couldn't hold out much longer, Poison was wavering, plus Heart's condition was in question, and she was vulnerable where Poison had left her.

Squire's voice came through to her, it was broken up with the irregular signal, but she got the message.

"Extraction is at the courtyard," Poison waved Plaza forward as she drove the butt of Heart's gun into the face of one of the assailants. "Go...go...go,"

Invigorated with Squire's message she redoubled her efforts. They were getting out of here. The sibling doubting Thomas in her was concerned that there was still nothing from Kalide. They were not getting very far off this mountain without the Bethlehem.

Fury. Red rage. The Liegelord's hands were wrapped around Eagledawn's neck, but he was ignorant to the pain, and revelled in the asphyxiation.

For so many years, the exact number lost in the past, Wilson Donner's father had moved heaven and earth to find a cure for his son. And in the absence of achieving that goal, he had done everything in his power and within the capability of his vast wealth to ensure what his son's affliction, as he referred to it, was hidden, and for Wilson, forgotten with the help of brainwashing and certain medications.

A nanite serum ran in his blood. It was a more effective, less painful, variation than what he had been subjected to by his father for countless years, but it was what kept the beast at bay.

There was guilt over Elizabeth's murder, a painful remorse over not saving her, but there was the deeper, secret shame, mired in disgust, of losing control that night and taking from her to satisfy the hunger that had been awakened. Refined over the years since Elizabeth's death, the serum could not be easily purged from his system, that was the failsafe, but now in this moment face to face with the one whom had set the wheels in motion that had led to those events he ached with every fibre of his being to quench the thirst, satisfy the hunger. To give in to the monster he could be.

Fury, Red rage.

Mouth opened wide, fangs revealed, the Liegelord was taken aback. "My god!"

"I thought that was you?" Eagledawn yelled, and dropped backwards, pulling the Liegelord down, rolling and flipping the behemoth over.

On his feet, lunging at the knight closest, his claws ripped through chain mail tearing through the skin underneath.

Wilson turned to the Liegelord. "Self-proclaimed King, Liege, Lord, but in your desperation for power you are just a man, calling out to a god when you claim yourself to be one. In the world that matters, I have power. I am evolution."

"It's confirmed we have David," Eagledawn heard Poison's voice through his communication device. "Rendezvous at the court yard. Work your way to the middle, Squire says there's a courtyard."

Eagledawn looked at the Liegelord. "We have unfinished business, you and I, but for now we appear to be done."

"Why," the Liegelord was confused by his opponent's sudden change in stature. "I rule here. I will tell you when it is over."

"I don't have to waste any more time playing with you, distractions over, we have what we came for."

"No!" Liegelord was suddenly fierce. "Impossible."

"And you told me nothing was impossible," Eagledawn taunted. "Looks like you underestimated my little band of amateurs."

Liegelord charged in his rage, lunging, but Eagledawn sidestepped and the Liegelord's attack was wasted on the table, smashing it in two. Eagledawn escaped.

"Stop them!" Liegelord raged. "Stop them!" And he stormed after the escapee. He would not lose the immortal.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

On the backside of the Liegelord's mountain there was a plateau. A small lake bed that had dried up eons ago that was now covered with Rough Fescue grass, Elephant Head and other wild flowers of Brome and Fairy bell, and littered with boulders and rock, freed from the mountain face by winter's ice. The inhabitants called it the Courtyard. Still secured by the fortresses' technology that kept the Liegelord's civilization masked from radars and satellite, it was a place where they could go to look at the heaven's and feel the sweet kiss of the sun for a momentary reprieve from the cold hug of the mountain's dark.

Even though he moved slowly with his package, Squire came through the dark tunnel into the Courtyard before any of the others.

They were alone. Now out in the open and alone. Vulnerable, his right arm cradling David whose body temperature rose and fell to a point where his skin was like ice to the touch, as he segued in and out of consciousness. The Bethlehem had not been waiting.

"Where are they?" He cursed.

"I don't know about them, but I am right here!" Liegelord was there with four knights. Archers were filing along the short parapet lining the mountain sixty feet above the Courtyard.

"Give him to me!" Liegelord demanded, pointing to the immortal.

"Not while I still stand of my own will and volition," Squire retorted, letting go of David and drawing his sword.

"Then lets change that," he said and motioned to his knights.

Two of them fell, shaking with the electric burn of lightening from David's call to the skies. Fog began to fill the Courtyard, hindering the archer's visibility, but it was all David had before he dropped to the ground.

Squire parried the first Knight's strike, and followed through to thrust at the second. Caught between the two the knights he used his speed to his advantage, but they were more experienced. He was after all only a squire, and in the moment when his attention was diverted on one opponent, the blade of the other caught his left calf muscle. Not deep, but enough to cause pain, enough to slow him down and rob him of his one advantage. He needed to bide time, to hold out, and hope for, the cavalry. Striking, blocking, cutting, a feint here, parries and thrust. He could see the Liegelord moving closer to David as he defended against the two knights as they pressed him back.

Coming out higher than Squire had earlier, Poison and Plaza found themselves arriving at the Courtyard on the parapet which was lined with ten archers with their backs to them.

Poison screamed below. "David!"

Plaza was over the edge, dropping to the courtyard below with Heart in his arms. Poison pushed one of the archers over the edge and wrestled a second, claiming his bow and grabbing two arrows from the spilled quiver. One was let loose at an archer rushing towards her and she shot the other at a knight below before climbing over the edge.

"It's not here!" She railed at the felt panic as she dropped to the Courtyard, charging the knight she had wounded.

In response to her call, almost silent in its arrival the Bethlehem breached the other side of the mountain and dropped low, unsteady in its descent, but it was there. The ramp to the entrance hatch was lowering on its hydraulic arms.

"Go for it," Squire yelled at them as the knight cut him across the left arm.

Plaza was on the move, carrying Heart, as arrows from above bounced and broke against his armoured hide.

Having taken out the knight she was fighting with, Poison ran for David, but the Liegelord was there, standing over him.

"It's a pity, but there is one way to kill an immortal," Liegelord said, raising a sword he had retrieved from one of the fallen knights.

She was running, calling his name, but felt so far away. Oblivious to arrows hitting the dirt in the wake of her steps, she felt like she was going nowhere, everything was in slow motion.

Squire's blade struck deep into the left side of the Knight, and the man dropped as Squire withdrew the sword with a spray of blood. He was hindered by his damaged calf, so he could not run like usual, but his legs were not the only thing that could move fast. Arms, moving in a blur, almost invisible like a hummingbird's wings, he threw his sword at the Liegelord. Carried by the weight of the hilt the blade spun over itself, torpedoing straight for his Liege's heart.

The blade did not find its target, but was caught by it instead.

"A flea in a tornado," Liegelord reminded him, and returned the package to its sender.

Caught unaware, frozen in surprise, Squire's sword sunk into his chest, the force of the impact sending him flying backwards against the trunk of a tree.

The Liegelord swatted Poison to the side, and moved forward to the one who had betrayed him. He grabbed the handle of the sword that had Squire pinned to the tree. "Pledge you allegiance to me now, once and for all, and I will let you live, Judas!"

Hands wrapped around the blade, trying to keep it at bay against the force of the one pushing against it, eyes wild eyed with pain and shock, the Squire only spurted blood in a response.

Dropping from an opening in a tower from somewhere above in the maze of the mountain, Eagledawn had arrived. Wings pressed back he fell in an attack dive with claws raking across Liegelord's back and forcing him off of Squire.

Dazed from the blow, Poison was dragging Winterkill towards the Bethlehem, tunnel vision blinding her to the fact that an arrow had grazed her arm, that several had peppered David's body.

Down the ramp, out of the Bethlehem, Plaza was rushing back across the grass. Arms, legs, and chest, red with armoured strength he hoisted a boulder and catapulted it at the archers. Ones was crushed, two others fell in the small avalanche as the boulder broke against and with the natural wall.

"It's a mess in there, but Heart is secured," he yelled to Poison as he came forward to grab, David.

"Get Squire," she waived him on.

The cuts from Eagledawn's claws painted the snow white hide of the Liegelord's skin in a collage of red as the two tussled.

Almost to the Bethlehem, Poison called back. "Hold on, we're coming."

More archers were lining the wall above. More knights and infantry were exiting out into the Courtyard.

Pulling the blade to release his friend, the sword had to be extracted from the trunk, and withdrawn through Squire's abdomen. The pain draped him with unconsciousness. Plaza lifted him and began a second sprint for the ship.

Using his wings offensively, Eagledawn battered the Liegelord back with the powerful appendages. "Go!" he yelled.

"C'mon!" Poison waived him back, as Plaza flew past her with Squire into the ship. Shielded by the ship's wing she was kept at bay by a rain of arrows. She couldn't get to Eagledawn to help.

The Liegelord retaliated in a fury.

"You break into my house," he said as he pummeled into Eagledawn. "You steal from me."

But Eagledawn did not relent and was striking back. Kicking out and swiping his wing across. Forcing his opponent to step back and give him space. "You were first. I was just returning the favour."

Then it caught his eye, distracting him. Some of the newcomers were working on something.

"Get out of here," he ordered Poison. They were about to be in big trouble.

"Not without you!"

He pointed as he was tackled by three of the troops that had closed in.

She didn't know what, she couldn't see.

"C'mon," she called to him.

He was being mustered into a mess of bodies as more soldiers moved on him. The Liegelord was stepping back smiling.

But she heard him. She heard the three letters he called out.

E.M.P!

"They're not just playing with bows and fucking arrows," she cursed under her breath, running up the ramp, shouting to Kalide to take off.

The Bethlehem rose. Praying to ascend high enough, get far enough to be out of range if the electromagnetic pulse was set off. If they were caught in that wash the ship was going to be one huge metal casket.

Ignoring the incessant beeping requesting itself to be closed, Poison watched from the open hatch.

For the moment he was lost in the mesh of bodies below. The pressure. The weight. Soldiers caging him with their bodies, but Eagledawn emerged. Throwing the soldiers back, turning quickly with expanded wings that knocked some over, and forced a space with the others, it bought him his moment to take to the skies.

"It's not over," the Liegelord called up to him.

Chasing after the Bethlehem he was in full agreement. It wasn't over; not by a long shot, but from the corner of his eye he had seen one of the soldiers activate the device.

The Liegelord stormed over to the one that had activated the device. "On my mark! I said on my mark!" and he lashed out, the soldier unable to defend himself. "Fool...fool...you've shut down the mountain!"

Five more of the Liegelord's vassals were dead by the time his fury subsided to only rage.

Climbing higher, wings pushing forward to catch the rising ship, he could see Poison looking down on him, urging him on. Tired and in pain from the battle he had just emerged from, he focused on her face. Reaching her was his goal, and it was all he allowed himself to see as he ignored the distance, ignored the signals of resentment from his wings. Angry cries from below faded away and were replaced with the howling rush of the winds.

Then he felt her hand, wrapping around his forearm, pulling him in to sanctuary.

"He's in," Poison yelled to Kalide above the howling of wind. "Punch it!"

The hatch closed, Eagledawn fell onto all fours to catch his breath. His wings were too large and cumbersome for the small quarters, and he choked on swallowing a deep breath as his wings detached from his back. He just hoped they were out of range as he could not grow them back for several hours.

"Situation?" He said before fully realizing the somber silence. The horror that waited within the ship.

Blood splatter decorated the inside of the Bethlehem. Kalide was at the helm, but his cybernetic left arm was missing from the elbow down and his eye sparked and crackled.

Nobody had come away from the Liegelord's lair unscathed, but the loss was crippling.

"Squire is dead," Poison said. Cursing and feverishly working on Heart while Plaza was hovering over Squire's body.

Wilson noticed the two other bodies that occupied the interior as he slumped in shock into the co-pilot chair next to Kalide.

"I was late because a Hunter was hiding in the ship," Kalide reported maintaining his forward glare out of the cockpit's window. "I look worse, but at least I am the one breathing. Its blood is here, but I dumped the body before taking off"

"And the other two bodies?"

"Believe it or not, those are Mr. and Mrs. Welder. I was trying to save them, but I had only brought the Hunter more victims."

They were all stunned. And the weight was felt as they silently all recognized that the young woman waiting for her brother back at their base was going to find herself suddenly alone.

"Shit, I'm losing her," Poison cried out. "I can't...she's lost so much blood...I can't"

Eagledawn was up and at her side.

The feeling of helplessness was so foreign to her, and she hated the vulnerability.

Flatline. The constant beep filled the cabin.

Giving up was not in Poison's vocabulary and she wasn't about to start now, as she began resuscitation. She felt tears in her eyes, on her cheeks again. This time she could not blame it on sweat.

It was because somebody she always wanted to hate was her friend. It was because at this moment she had never felt more useless. It was because at this moment she was caring. Caring and failing.

Heart's body was unresponsive.

Wilson reached over and quieted the constant beep.

The sudden silence was painful except for the muffled sobs that could be heard from Plaza who had sunk to the floor.

"We got back David," Poison was leaning over Heart's body looking for any sign of life. "But at what cost?"

Eagledawn turned to her. He looked straight into her, holding back his own emotions. Was he silently saying that he was glad it had not been her, his daughter, instead?

"This is what we do. She knew the risk," he chokingly said as he turned away from her. "She knew the risk."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

A party of six had left on a mission to rescue one man. Now only four of them were returning, accompanied by four dead bodies.

Tragedies.

Victims.

Kalide began landing procedures to dock the Bethlehem in the hangar bay.

As the ship began powering down, from the cockpit window they could see the lone occupant of their headquarters waiting. She had come running to meet them when she had heard their arrival.

Mandy Welder, orphan.

Heralds of death. That is what the surviving members were as they stared out at the girl.

"You get this one," Poison said to Eagledawn.

Waiting had never been one of Mandy's strong suits. The time they had been gone had been an eternity in a purgatory of worry. Her finger nails had been whittled down to nothing and her cuticles were red and sore as she had turned to them for seconds. Left alone in the underground headquarters she had spent her time trying to get a hold of her parents and constantly calling in to check if any messages had been left on her home phone. She had spent a neurotic two hours constantly calling back. Certain that they had probably called when she was plugging the line listening to the recorded voice telling her there was no new messages. The chain had only been broken when she turned her attention to her cell phone. Text messages? Missed calls? Nothing.

Well there had been seven texts from her (ex) boyfriend, but those didn't count, and she had deleted those without paying much attention to them. He was the past, a forgetful one, and she was in a whole different world now.

The ramp was lowering, as they began exiting the ship, Poison was first, followed by Wilson.

"Look at you guys?" She was shocked to see the state they were in as they came stumbling down. Decorated with a myriad of bruises that would later be adorned with their shape, size, and colour. Torn and tattered with dirt and dried blood.

Plaza came out next. His face held signs that he had been crying.

"Where's my brother?" Mandy asked of Wilson as he approached her. She was looking past him, watching the ramp.

Wilson came close, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Mandy, let's sit down a moment?"

"No," she pushed him off. She already felt it, but refused to hear what he was going to say. His tone was enough.

"Mandy..."

"No! You promised!" She pointed at Poison who turned away, unable to look at the girl, refusing to see the pain in her face.

Wilson held her shoulders again to get her attention. "Mandy, I'm..." He didn't get to finish.

"No. He was my brother. He wasn't a hero," her words were beginning to be lost amidst her tears. "He wasn't a hero, but you made him go."

Following a gurney that held David, Kalide came down the ramp, and Poison seized the opportunity to help him steer. They pushed past Wilson and the girl, and Poison kept her head down.

"Is that him?" Mandy was yelling for her attention. She was so overwhelmed with the pain, and the frustration of being here to deal with this alone when her parents were god knows where. "Is that who my brother sacrificed himself for?"

Wilson gently had her by the shoulders, "Mandy?"

"I hope he was worth it!" Her screaming tears echoed off the walls. "I hope he was worth it."

"Mandy, we have to sit down. You need to sit down so I can talk to you," Wilson said. He was afraid she might break, collapse, hit with everything at once, but he had to be honest and there was nothing to be achieved by holding back. "There's more."

"What else could there be?" her sobbed filled words yelled at him, unable to imagine anything worse.

It was a silent trip to the infirmary. Once there they transitioned David from the gurney to a permanent bed. He was still unconscious

While prepping the new patient, Kalide asked. "Poison, are you okay?"

She had been watching David's face, but looked up after hearing her name. She was silent; she had not heard the question.

"Are you okay?" Kalide repeated.

"Yes...no," she gave a double sided answer as she looked down again.

"I think he is fine. David will heal, but his system must be in overload for him to still be unconscious like this."

"That was a bad situation we got ourselves into," Poison spoke up. "That girl has lost everything in a single moment. I know how that feels. I let her down."

"Not just you. We all have our crosses to bear." Kalide responded. "I was the one that found her parents. I was the one that got them killed. I probably should have left them, they would have been better off alone. They had already survived a couple of days on their own."

He finished getting David comfortable, and was preparing to leave before stopping at the door to add. "I need to go and start cleaning up the Bethlehem."

"If it's all the same to you, I am going to hide out here for a while, watch over David."

"Fair enough. Let me know once his condition changes."

The hiss of the automatic door sliding to a close marked his exit, leaving Poison alone with the unconscious man and the haunting question of a girl in pain asking if he was worth it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Seated in a chair she had pulled close to the bed, watching David, Poison became lost in her thoughts. She was tough. A heart fortified against emotions from the trials of the past, she usually would not have been affected this way. She was surprised to be feeling this way, but the girl Mandy got to her, allowing a sneaky vulnerability to creep into the cracks of her dark, fractured heart. She saw something in her, felt an affinity for the young woman, and from their first meeting felt responsible for her.

A love for David and responsibility for Mandy was a weight pressing on her. Coupled with being physically tired from the past ordeal, and emotionally exhausted from the deaths that had occurred, Poison succumbed to the anchor of sleep.

Startled awake, she felt that exhausted confusion of not knowing if she had been out for minutes or hours.

Clearing her eyes she was greeted by David whom was sitting up in the bed. "Hey."

"Hey," she was glad to see him awake. "I'm sorry, I think I dozed."

"I'm sorry I woke you," he smiled at her. "You came for me."

"Was there ever any doubt?" She said, standing to work the stiffness from her muscles, the fogginess from her head.

"For a minute there," David started. "There were a couple of moments."

"That bad, huh?" She moved closer to him, not sure if he was physically okay, but wanting to wrap herself around him.

"There's been bad before, but this was worse," his smile was gone replaced by a cold seriousness.

Poison gently took his hand. "You're back now. It's over."

"How's the kid. The one that got me out?"

"He's dead," she didn't soften the blow.

"Jesus no!" He sat forward.

"He died fighting for you. To save you."

It was another burden to shoulder. A big part of why he hated his immortality. The weights of the world for him to burden forever.

She bent her head, not wanting to see his face. "Heart too..." She paused to find a breath under the weight of the news she was delivering. "It's my fault I pushed so hard to come and rescue you. We weren't ready. I pushed them."

He began to speak, but his hand started to turn blue, and he fell back convulsing.

"David?"

Shaking. Shaking so hard the bed was rattling.

Poison grabbed him by the shoulders, and he felt so cold, steel cold. She looked into his eyes to get his attention, but he was off staring at some unknown nightmare.

Poison stepped back; she could see the fumes of air escape her mouth and nostrils as the air turned brittle. Ice formed around David almost instantaneously, encasing his entire body.

The weight caused the bed to collapse and his ice cocoon shattered as he hit the floor.

Poison jumped to the intercom "Kalide, get down here now!"

She turned back to David, unconscious again, laying on the floor amongst the collapsed bed and surrounded by chunks of ice that moments ago had made up a frozen casket that had encased him.

Trundling back to the Hangar Bay, Kalide was in no hurry to return to the interior of the Bethlehem. Four recently deceased bodies awaited him there, and one of them had been a colleague, but he had better known Heart as a friend. He just wanted to stop and feel the impact of that. He just wanted to stop and mourn a moment for the loss, but he had to do it on the go. Four bodies would need tending to quickly. He had to deal with the issue at hand; feeling would have to be suppressed until later. It wasn't something new. He had done it before when he was in the military, but it just didn't seem right, didn't seem fair to the memory of those lost.

He entered the ship, and closed his human eye, blinding himself to the scene. Now that they had escaped, now that they were home things would be seen from an emotional perspective. Let his cybernetic eye process and digitize, the streaks on the walls and pools of drying blood on the floor were not something he wanted to witness right now. He didn't have to sleep, but when he shut down his systems nightmares could still be experienced.

There was a knock from behind, and Kalide turned to see he had a visitor.

"Need some help?" Wilson said standing in the doorway.

A nod was all Kalide offered as a response.

"I can't believe we lost Heart like that," Wilson said as he moved closer to her body.

"What are we going to do about her family?"

"Her parents knew what she was involved in. They knew about her...gifts," Wilson said as he gently stroked hair away from her eyes. "They knew but it doesn't make it any less worse. I'll go and see them, explain."

How, he wasn't sure. A bridge he was going to have to cross, it just felt like some bridges were made of steel and concrete, and some were made of frayed rope and rotten wood.

"And the girl, Mandy?" Kalide asked.

Wilson turned to him, looking at Heart was pulling him under. "I told her about her parents. Her brother and her parents. She cried a lot, and then seemed to shut down. I think she is in shock right now, trying to process the reality. I just came here to give her a moment, Plaza was there, staying close, but I do not want to leave her alone for long."

Stepping back, Wilson continued. "We are going to need her help. Her family is dead, and we are going to have to tell something to the authorities."

"We can keep her out of it I think," Kalide said. "Let's discuss it later with clearer heads, but we have our contacts in the federal agencies and I can hack into local systems. We can cover our tracks."

"Doesn't feel very respectable. Lying about the dead? Maybe we should just crack the whole thing open about the Liegelord, get the authorities involved, go back with reinforcements," Wilson suggested. The whole idea of a cover up twisted his stomach. He was used to secrecy, not blatant lies.

"I don't recommend it. If what Squire said about the Liegelord being a power player with different nations, we could be putting ourselves in a pretty precarious position. We have to deal with this in-house," Kalide said.

Wilson breathed deeply, he felt like he was the murderer figuring out how to cover his tracks, the guilty party, and they were...really. He was the leader, Heart followed him, and Squire had trusted him. He hated the thought that he would probably have to get Holly's family on board with a cover also. Not only would he have to explain that their daughter was killed under his watch, but that he may need them to lie also...

That's when Poison's call for help saved him from any further thoughts. For the moment.

"What the hell happened!" Followed Kalide's entrance, along with Wilson, as he immediately noticed the broken bed and melted shards of ice.

Poison was kneeling beside David, but stood up as Kalide traded places with her, and looked at both Kalide and Wilson in turn. "I don't know. One moment he was lucid and then he was encased in ice. The weight broke the bed."

Evaluating the body with his enhanced eye, Kalide looked up at them. "His core temperature has dropped by 20 degrees; a severe state of hypothermia. His body functions have slowed. The medical profession may induce hypothermia to prolong the opportunity for a successful resuscitation, but David can't die, and I am registering brain patterns. He isn't clinically dead, but is he ever?"

Kalide was half rambling, but David was always such an interesting specimen. "Help me get him in the other bed."

They worked together to lift David's limp body. It was scary how cold he was to the touch, and in the words of Mandy Welder, Poison felt more than a little "freaked out". Freaked out wasn't something she had ever experienced before.

And Wilson hadn't said a word since coming into the room. There was only one way it could have gone with Mandy, and that was hard.

"How are you holding up?" she asked him as wisps of exhaled air could be seen escaping her mouth. The whole room was getting colder.

His eyes were red when he looked over at her. He was a little gun shy to talk to her, she had been known at times like these, when he was vulnerable, to be an opportunist, and to take the opportunity to hurt him more. But he always put his trust in her. He would always reach for a chance to bridge the gap between them.

"Mandy knows. I'm not looking forward to round two with Holly's family."

Poison knew it wasn't just that. He was hurting. He had a thing with Heart. The two of them had been very close, an emotional bond that could have been more if he could have ever let go and moved past grieving for his deceased wife.

Kalide moved over to the computer terminal. "I've been running scans since we brought David down earlier," he paused as he studied the screen. "They were running until he was disconnected by the ice."

Waiting for him to continue, Poison was setting an intravenous in David's left arm.

"Compared to my records," Kalide carried on, back to them, focussed on the results displayed across the monitor. "They've realigned his DNA, added to it. As if he wasn't complex enough...this is unprecedented stuff."

He stopped and turned to them. "I was going to start with a warming blanket, and begin procedures to raise his body temperature, but I think the ice was a cocoon, and we should just leave well enough alone. David is undergoing some kind of metamorphosis."

"So we are just going to leave him?" Poison asked.

"None of us are normal, but David is complex, his immortality and ability to heal. His body self-induced this hypothermia, I really think we need to let it run its course. I'll monitor him for any changes."

"Plus," Wilson interjected. "I've asked Mandy to stay here until we figure things out, so we can watch her, so she isn't alone. We need to protect her. You're going to take her home to collect some of her things."

"Me!" Poison was surprised.

"Yes you. She trusts you."

Poison was shaking her head. "I think I've betrayed that trust?"

"She was hurt, angry, surprised. Give the girl some credit. She trusts you."

Locked in a stare down, Poison's reservation was that she didn't want to face the girl. She didn't want to be responsible, but she knew she was.

"Fine," she resigned. "But it's late. I'll take her in the morning. Give her some more time to process."

"Sounds good," Wilson agreed.

"I'll monitor David," Kalide said.

"If it's all the same, I'd like to watch over him," Poison offered.

"Fair enough. The Bethlehem still needs looking after...the bodies." Kalide trailed off.

"And I've got to touch base with the office. I'll check in on Mandy, see if Plaza will keep an eye on her, and then go visit Heart's family," Wilson said.

The three parted ways solemnly. They all had things to do, none of them good.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Alone, Poison dimmed the lights in the room and watched David laying there, quietly breathing. She caressed his forehead, and it was still cold to the touch. Whatever change he was going through, another rebirth was in the making. The ice age of the frozen hearted queen was melting away. They had fought so hard, suffered so much in his rescue that she had almost lost David. The two of them had wasted so much time dancing around each other, eluding their feelings, that the opportunity had almost been lost. In reality that is what she had been protecting herself against all this time, loss. By previously keeping him at bay all that time she had only been punishing him, and herself, for other's past betrayals. It was time to give in, to stop fighting the inevitable.

The bed in the medical room was only a single, too small to comfortably accommodate two adults, but she crawled into bed beside him, sliding her arm under his head and wrapping her other over his side, up to his chest and pulling him close to her to hold him. In response to her touch his cold body seemed to warm again.

The two lay as one for hours. At some point in the night, David stirred as he regained consciousness, but he stayed wrapped in Poison's arms without saying a word. Soon after, David wept. A heavy sobbing that wracked his whole body. She never said a word, never asked why. Lea just held him tighter, pulled him closer.

David wanted to live. The emotionless immortal had been lost amidst the hours and days of torture he had suffered inside the mountain fortress. Now he had regained consciousness, and felt like he had awakened into a stage of enlightenment, the moth in the chrysalis. He wanted to live, he chose to live, but to really live and open himself to others he would first have to make amends.

Pulling away from Lea's arms, he raised himself out of bed. He was surprised at how difficult it was. He was not accustomed to feeling weak and unstable. His gift of healing was always so efficient. He found his feet, but was halted by Lea's voice from behind him.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going home," he said without looking back at her.

"No, you're not going anywhere. Get back in bed."

"Yes, I am."

"No! You are not!" She ended it with a definitive tone as she raised herself to a sitting position. "You are in no condition to travel. Your wounds are too severe, we don't even fully know the extent of your condition, and you keep dropping in and out of consciousness for crying out loud. You need to give your body time to...to do whatever it is your body does...heal itself!"

"I don't care. I have to go now. This can't wait," he wavered on his feet, grabbing the side of the infirmary bed for support. "You can either help me or get out of my way!"

She was taken aback by his sharpness. "Sit back down! You can barely stand. You're being ridiculous David. At least explain to me what the sudden emergency is?"

"I have to go home. I have to get back to my mother and sister, Stephanie. There's so much..." he sounded short of breath, panicked. "So much time I have wasted. Please understand."

"No. I mean why?" Her head was still fuzzy from sleep, cobwebs of dreams still interlaced. "Why right now? Why right this minute?"

Finally he turned around to face her. "Because I walked out on them. Cast them out of my life like everything, everyone else." The desperation he was feeling suffocated his thoughts and rambled his words.

"When? Jesus, David what the hell are you talking about." Poison was awake now, but still utterly lost.

"Years ago. Too long ago. I left. I walked out on them. All because I didn't want to feel anymore. Because I was so angry inside, I needed to run, to hide. I was alone, scared of what I had become. I broke the promise. I betrayed their trust."

"David, whatever reasons you had for leaving I am sure they understood." Her heart reached out for him. This was not the brazen, egotistical, fearless man she knew of. What had he suffered to onset this emotional revolution and need.

"Why would they? How could they? All we had was each other. They were all I had and nothing could kill me, or hurt me, except losing them, and that scared me so much. I never gave them a reason. I never explained. I just disappeared. I couldn't die. They were my Achilles heel, and pushing them away made me feel invulnerable."

"God Damn-it! You didn't betray them. You've told me somewhat of your family, no real details, but I can guess it must have been bad. You were only trying to protect them."

He knew the truth. He had only been trying to protect himself.

"Now sit your ass back in this bed before I plant it there for you."

He showed no intention of complying. "I have to go. Please understand. I need to go home."

"You will. You can. Just not right at this moment, David, you're sick. You are not healing like you usually do," she reasoned with him. "Just give yourself some more time to get right and then we will sort this thing out. I will come with you, I want to. Squire's sister is here with us, and I have to take her home in the morning, I promised, Wilson. Just give it until I come back. Wait for me?"

Conceding to her will, David sat back down on the bed, but deep down he felt that the only way he would ever be right again was once he went home to make amends.

The need, the desire, to run home was so strong. It was like a vampire thirst that kept him awake.

But he didn't move. Poison's arms, wrapped around him kept him at bay, warmed him, his skin no longer cold to the touch as the two of them lay there in an acceptance of love for one another.

The soft wisp of breath on the back of his neck signalled that she had dozed off into the realm of sleep again.

Knowing she was asleep afforded him a comfort in opening up to her. "Once upon a time I would have run as far as I could from you. Now I am laying here with you, looking forward to what tomorrow might bring, but somehow in the back of my mind I'm afraid of the nightmare, the pain tomorrow will eventually bring."

"I'm not going anywhere," Poison whispered. She had not been as deep in the well of slumber as he had assumed. "I'll be here tomorrow, or ten years from now."

He felt her warming words of commitment, and it felt so alien to be in this moment. "But that is my innate fear that led me to close off. I open myself to us, build a relationship, give you my heart, and one day you will die. To me, our time together will have been a flash, and I will be left to live on with just the memory of us. The thought of that just seems so hard."

"But that's the way life is. Everyone loses their loved ones at some point in time. Everyone suffers loss," she explained.

"And they all have the eventual comfort of knowing that one day they will be reunited, in some form depending on their belief. Do you see? That is what I have been struggling with ever since I realized I was going to live forever," David said as he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling looking up at a supposed heaven wondering why people believe when he had no reason to be concerned with an afterlife. "Forever! It is just a word to people, viewed so casually. To me it is a reality."

"And so you thought it was easier to live your life in the forever, with disregard for today?" She was listening, coming to an understanding, breaching the wall between them.

"I attempted to separate my emotions, yes. It seemed easier, saner, instead of building relationships, forming attachments to people and losing them forever. I hope you understand where I am coming from. Why this thing between us will be hard for me?"

"I think I am beginning to. We're fighting against a double negative. I have issues myself, but we will work on it together," Poison rolled herself half onto his chest, so she could look down at him as her hair fell forward framing her face in shadow. "So why are you letting me in now then? You've spent so much energy keeping me at emotional bay, why open yourself now and take that risk?"

"You're worth it," he looked up and passed a thin smile. "I've been so cold inside, careless, developing a hazardous disregard for the sanctity of life, taking so much for granted. Being tortured, losing everything and not knowing if I was ever going to get it back, I realized that I've been trying to do so many things right, but I've done so much wrong. I used my abilities to help people, but it was in helping them that I was able to hide, and increase my detachments.

"All the time in the world is mine, and I've now come to realize how precious it is," David shook his head in disgust.

"You will have to forgive yourself."

"It's not about forgiveness. It's about making amends, and no longer punishing others because of what I am.," he pulled her close. "That begins with you."

"And the making amends, I assume, is the reason you were in such a sudden rush to go home?"

A long breathe was released from David's lungs. "Do we really want to go there? That deep?"

"I really want to go there," she kissed him gently.

David pulled himself up to a sitting position and for a moment buried his face in his cupped hands before running them back and forth through his hair, pressing against the tension.

Behind closed eyes he said. "I had pushed so much of my past away. Buried it in forgotten recesses of my mind. Being kidnapped, what they did to me, the countless times I died and was resurrected...it broke open those fragments."

"Tell me. Share it. Let me in," Poison told him as she looked into his haunted eyes, and grasped his left hand between hers for reassurance.

Silence painted the walls of the infirmary as David decided which step to take next. Instinct rejected the intimacy and told him to run. Love beckoned him to embrace the chance, and share the journey.

"We lived in absolute terror every day. Everywhere we went," he began. "It wasn't that he was just abusive, or a drunk, or someone who was overcome by fits of rage and funnels that unrepressed anger at you in a beating. No, Adam was just sadistic. Sadistic and mean. He contained an unimaginable cruelty that when expressed could challenge the devil himself as chief tormentor in the bowels of hell.

"An example, this is one of those moments that stick out in my mind, we were going outside, Stephanie and I, one Saturday morning," he paused in reflection. "You see, at my house when daddy was home for the weekend you spent as much time as you could outside. To go out the front meant certain death, so we had to go through the kitchen, and that meant we had to run the gauntlet.

"Timing was everything. Getting up before the devils' henchman, Joseph was awake. Waiting to be sure Adam was not in sight. We had memorized the creeks in the floor and the soft spots on the stairs. Quietly, but quickly traversing the linoleum, bending to grab your shoes and straight outside. No stopping.

"One Friday night we had put our shoes under our beds before going to sleep, to help expedite our escape in the morning, but the pads of our feet paid the price the next morning when we slipped on our shoes only to find out they had been filled with slivers of glass."

David closed his eyes, breathing slowly and deeply, his mind rolling back to those days, feeling the childhood fear. Hold on. "Stephanie held me back with her left hand as we came to the bottom of the stairs. She was listening for him. I smiled because she was my big sister and with her I felt safe. It was almost a game, but the stakes were higher.

"The warmth of her hand on my chest."

Now. "She whispered as she prodded me in front of her. I drew my breath. The house was silent. This was it, the gauntlet. It had been run unaccountable times before, most without a glitch, sometimes by the skin of our teeth; escape to the outside, freedom, and safety where you could hide the day away make-believing another life. But sometimes...sometimes...we wouldn't make it.

"Stephanie prodded me," now, go, go!

"I went. I entered the kitchen, held my course, focussed on the back door. Stephanie stayed behind me, always behind me, for protection. She was bigger than me, faster, but she always stayed behind me.

"It was clear that one Saturday morning. We were going to make it, home free. I remember smiling, feeling like we were winning some small victory.

"Then I gasped, almost lost my footing. It had been an ambush."

Dishes in the sink. Dishes in the sink. "He came stomping into the kitchen from the Dining Room." How many times have I told you not to leave dishes in the sink!

"He was at the sink before I could finish my next step. Stephanie pushed me forward, urging me to move faster. I was running, but now the back door seemed so far away.

"Just before me something crashed against the wall. A plate? A utensil, spoon I think, hit my leg. He was bombing us with plates and glasses and utensils. Things seemed to fly and smash all around us. A coffee mug smacked into my shoulder. My visions frenzied in panic as the kitchen seemed to grow, the back door moving further away. Some days, successful days, the gauntlet felt like a game, but he had caught on, planted the trap, and decided to play along. We should have known after the glass in the shoes incident. It was his game now, his rules.

"I crashed through the door and turned around to smile at Stephanie, and cheer because we had made it. But I was alone!

"Stepping slowly towards the door, quaking, I risked peering through the screen. She was on the ground. Adam had her by the hair with one hand, the other hand fumbling for his belt. She hadn't made it, caught, the game was over."

Eyes squeezed shut with the vision, David was breathing heavily. "Later on she came out, and like similar times she was quiet and we did nothing. We just sat on the rocks, watching the tide, wishing to be washed away, and she would let me rest in her arms, and god I loved her so much.

"I think I gave her purpose, otherwise she would have walked out into that surf long ago."

There was a moment of silence as he felt himself choking on his words. "And after all those years of protecting me I repaid her by abandoning her."
CHAPTER THIRTY

Living in the underground floors it wasn't the morning sun that awoke Poison, and she had not brought an alarm clock into the infirmary either. No, she had been awakened, shivering, by the numbing cold that draped the room. David was out of it, stone cold again, and that coldness was emanating from him. She slid from the bed and the clock on the wall silently announced that it was just after eight in the morning. It was hard to believe that several floors above them, people were streaming into Stardawn Enterprises to begin another work day, and unbeknownst to those employees immortals and cyborgs walked below them.

Wandering down the hall with her arms crossed over her chest, Poison rubbed her arms for heat. All she could think about was coffee. Coffee and a shower as she realized she had not bathed since their return last night.

Arriving at her door she knocked. It was her room, but she had volunteered it to Mandy and she did not want to just abruptly enter.

She knocked lightly a second time, hoping Mandy wasn't sleeping. Coffee existed on the other side. It was better at the moment to focus on that than the fact that she was about to face the girl, and see that betrayal in her eyes again.

Would she ever warm up again? She silently wished this cold was not going to be a common occurrence with David.

Warming up and getting coffee into her system was the current priority, her sole objective. It took precedence over anything else at the moment.

Poison wrestled with the idea of knocking a third time, but she could go to the main kitchen and come back in a while. Mandy was obviously still sleeping.

The door opened just as she was about to turn away.

"Good morning," it was Plaza.

"Hi?" Poison replied, a little surprised by his appearance at the interior of her door. "Is Mandy inside?"

"Yes, but she is still sleeping."

"And you're here?"

"Yes."

"Well can I come into my room?" She was a bit abrupt and somewhat pushed past him. "What are you even doing here?"

"I stayed. Slept in the chair. I didn't want to leave her alone."

"Oh," Poison understood as she moved down the short hallway and turned left into the mini-kitchen the place was outfitted with.

"Should I wake her?" Plaza asked.

"No," Poison replied as she fumbled in the cupboard above the sink for filters and grounds. "I need to clean up, shower. Let her rest."

Poison tended to the coffee machine and set it to begin percolating before heading off to the bathroom.

The shower had been a rejuvenating moment of heaven. Softening sore muscles and washing away the evidence of yesterday. Drying and dressing in a replacement of her black outfit she had brought into the bathroom with her, Poison killed the light before exiting.

Mandy was sitting up on the edge of the bed.

"Hey," Poison greeted her. "I'm sorry if the shower...if I woke you?"

"No," the girl replied.

"I guess I am going to take you home today to grab a few things. Wilson mentioned that he wanted me too, that he wanted you to stay here," Poison said but couldn't believe how much she was stumbling for words around the girl. She had never behaved this way around others. "We thought it might be safer, and so we can help you get things sorted out?"

Mandy gave a slight nod in recognition.

"We can go whenever you are ready. Do you want to shower first? Eat?"

"No," the one word answers again.

God she was horrible at this. Emotions, comforting, reaching out were things Heart was good at. The crossing thought caught Poison and she stopped herself.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee pulled Poison out of the bedroom. She filled a metal travel mug with the dark liquid and called back over her shoulder. "There is no rush, Mandy, whenever you feel comfortable."

"Now's fine," Mandy responded from the bedroom door. Head down, arms crossed. "I'm sorry for my outburst earlier."

Poison moved closer. "You don't apologize to us. Never apologize to us."

"I'm coming," Plaza piped up from his resting spot in the chair of the small living room.

"That okay with you?" Poison asked Mandy.

"Sure," Mandy said with a shrug of her shoulders conveying that she didn't care one way or another. She didn't care if the world stopped turning.

Leading them from the room towards the garage, Poison was lost in the realization of how quickly events can change a person, completely alter them. This was the girl who wouldn't shut up and now in a moment she was a different person, the girl who you couldn't get to talk.

They drove in a BMW X5 down the freeway, and into the suburban neighbourhood where Mandy's house was located. Plaza filled the passenger seat and Mandy was silent in the back, head turned and pressed against the window, so Poison could not see her face whenever she checked on the girl by utilizing the rear-view mirror.

Mandy watched the row upon row of cookie cutter houses flash by her window as Poison guided the vehicle through the serpentine roads. People starting their day, as they walked their dog or waived goodbye to children who had just loaded onto the school bus, normalcy. Mandy was in a nightmare and on the other side of a pane of glass was the oblivious world.

Poison stopped the vehicle at the curb in front of the late Welder's residence, and slowly shifted the gear into park.

Untended, the front lawn's grass had grown unruly in parts and weeds were beginning an invasion. The house was a two-story with a large bay window, and stucco on the outside that was painted salmon pink. A poured walk led to the front door, and had another arm that led around the left side of the house to the backyard and garage. The house itself looked hollow, as if it missed its residents and was feeling neglected.

They sat in the quiet for a moment, and just as Poison was going to speak, Mandy opened the back door and exited the car.

"Stay here," Poison told Plaza as she unclipped her seatbelt to follow Mandy up the walkway.

Mandy had stopped at the front door, giving Poison the chance to catch up.

"I forgot my key," Mandy said with a hushed voice, almost relief.

The door was slightly ajar; it had not been fully closed, never mind locked. It had probably remained that way since they had run from the house from the thing in the basement.

"Let me go first," Poison said as she stepped in front of Mandy. Her crossbow was already withdrawn and she loaded a bolt as she crossed the threshold.

Mandy followed her inside. They were in the small foyer that adjoined the cozy Living Room.

"Hold on," Poison said, holding out a hand to keep Mandy from proceeding as she pulled out a small device. "Kalide provided me with this little toy earlier."

The device looked like a cell phone, as Poison flipped it open and it beeped to life while a small green hued screen illuminated.

"Infrared tracker with a fourty foot range, so we can make sure there are no unwelcome visitors like last time."

Besides registering the two of them, the tracker stayed silent as she held it out and directed it up, down, and left from right.

"It's safe. There's nobody here," Poison said.

"Only ghosts," Mandy stated as she moved past, further into the Living Room.

The smell of her house, her family, hit her like a freight train, but as she moved deeper into the room it was the pictures that were the nuclear bomb against her emotions. The still memories sitting framed on the coffee table, filling the mantle ledge. She was drawn towards them, running her hand along the edges and the glass, as if she would maybe receive some transference of feeling from her parents and brother reaching out to her from the other side.

There was nothing.

"People we passed on the way here," Mandy started speaking as she fixated on the family portraits. "All oblivious, all lost in their own little worlds and their petty beliefs, but I feel like I can't even believe in the concrete anymore. Everything has tipped in and outside of itself, like I should be waking up from this life and going back to my dreams.

"My father, my brother, my mother...gone. All wiped away!"

She was looking at a picture of her father now. "He used to wake me up early on the weekends so I wouldn't waste my day. Christ that annoyed me."

Mandy paced around the room, her eyes resting briefly on various family photos. "We get fixated on those things with the people close to us, annoying habits, things they have done to hurt us, intentional or not. It's always so easy to be angry and find fault, but when they are gone," she stopped and picked up a picture of her mother, studied it closely. "When they are gone, we can only think of how much we love them, miss them. When they're gone..."

Returning the frame to its spot, Mandy had started to stutter her words. Tears welling in her eyes she was beginning to feel the oncoming flood of feelings.

"Why can't we focus on that every day? Why didn't I focus on that every day?" Catching her reflection in a mirror, she was half screaming at herself through the onset of tears. "My brother. I was so glad he was going on that trip. I was so glad to be rid of him for those few days."

Unable to look at herself she quickly turned away from the image of herself and looked directly at Poison. "It's true what you hear about being careful what you say to the ones you love. I was so mad, jealous! Isn't that ridiculous?"

Poison didn't respond, she knew it was rhetorical, knew the girl needed to let it out.

"This last trip when my parents were going to look for him again, well I had felt so invisible since he had been missing, and all I could say as they were leaving, yelling at my father as they were going out the door was 'Why don't you try to find me? Why don't you try to find me?' They had lost their son. Alive? Dead? Who knew, and I was the spoiled brat."

It hit her then, hard.

"No....god!" Mandy began to wail, and Poison reached out for her, catching her, and pulled her close, but Mandy fought back, caught in her anger and pain. She squirmed and pushed away resisting the hug.

"No...Get away," Mandy bit at her emotions, but the flow was uncontrollable. "Leave me alone." And the confusion of desperate feelings of loss and guilt formed into a wrath, something she could direct, as she yelled at the woman before her. "This is all your fault. You should have left me alone!"

"That's right, hate me," Poison told her. "Hate me because hate gives us purpose, strength."

And Mandy gave into her anger of having her family stolen from her, and that anger metamorphosed into rage.

Her mother. Her father. Her brother. All she had...gone! Mandy screamed. Screamed for them, and wailed in defiance as she stormed around the room throwing things, slapping the walls, pushing over a lamp, cleaning the pictures off the mantle in one fell swoop of her arm.

She came back at Poison, steady, determined steps, and slapped her.

Poison's head spun. It was unexpected, and unrepentantly strong. She didn't know the girl had it in her.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the girl was breaking as she grabbed at Poison, burying herself in her arms. "Oh god I'm alone. I am so alone. How do I breathe again? How can I breathe again? They're all gone!"

And she was lost again in the overflow of emotions that are only experienced when those we love unconditionally are eternally ripped from us.

Poison held the girl; trying to contain her frame as it shook with wracking sobs and tears. Poison held her there, stroking the back of the girl's head in a vain attempt to offer some calm, some comfort.

In the middle of the room, Poison held the girl, and stared down the hall out through the kitchen window into the backyard. Uncared for over the past while the grass was getting dry and brown, and the flowers were looking wilted from lack of care and refreshment.

As everything around this poor girl was dying, Poison stared out the window into the backyard to watch the men coming over the fence in a horde.

A beep from her pocket announced that the tracking device had recognized them too.

"Oh my god, Mandy, Run!" Poison pushed the girl towards the front door.

Mandy instinctively listened. She had learned enough in the past while to just react, not question, just move.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Out of the front door, the two women charged down the front steps. Breaking into the back of the house, glass shattering, yelling, the thundering noise of men could be heard from behind them.

"Get in the car! Get in the car!" Poison yelled as she pushed Mandy forward.

Poison jumped into the driver's seat, Mandy into the back, fumbling for her seatbelt with trembling fingers.

Plaza was staring at them. "What?"

"Liegelord's men," Poison answered and turned the key in the ignition.

The scrunch of metal made Mandy scream, and it was accompanied by a large bang as the suspension popped and the front of the car dipped towards the ground. The arrival of two tree trunk legs landing on the hood of car had been the cause.

More screeching, shaking and bending of metal. The roof was ripped free of the utility vehicle and the broken windshield showered down on them.

"Surprise," a grinning snarl looked down on them.

"Kriegen!" Plaza yelled.

Curled in the driver's seat, Poison had her weapon out, loaded and shot two successive arrows upwards. The first found its home in Kriegen's throat, the second a little lower in his chest.

Plaza was up, one foot on the seat, pushing up on metal legs and delivering a powerful upper cut that sent Kriegen flying back twenty feet.

"Get out. Get out," Poison ordered as the three of them poured out of the vehicle, and began sprinting down the street.

The front door of Mandy Welder's house went flying across the front lawn in a rain of splinters as men came pouring out.

Kriegen was up, pulling Poison's arrows out of his neck and chest, as he snarled, and ordered the men into pursuit.

Wilson was not one to sleep in, ever, and he felt groggy as he rolled over and stared at the clock. Getting out of bed was a chore. His body ached and hurt in a myriad of places, but more so he was just exhausted. He had stayed late at Holly's parent's house, delivering the sad news, consoling. Sharing what few details he could. No matter what the age of the child it was horrible to watch parents grieve the loss of one of their own. At least in dealing with Holly's parents he had been able to avoid his own grief over losing Heart.

Then He had then been up even later discussing things with Kalide. Making arrangements, and figuring out how to deal with the Welder family. Kalide could just recharge, sleep wasn't even necessary, and even if it was the cyborg didn't have a company to run the next day.

Running things through his head as he tried to grasp the day ahead of him, Wilson's personal device went off, and when he checked it the notification was a calendar reminder of a meeting that was set to begin in 30 minutes. There were also a couple of e-mails from Carol wondering where he was. He was certain the voice message indicator would be her also, doing her best to keep track of him and keep him on task. If she only knew? Luckily Marshall knew, but he couldn't pawn this one off on him, he had been neglecting things far too much as of late anyways, and his presence was mandatory at this meeting. He was running a secret life with the team he had built (that was quickly falling apart) but funds were needed to finance that group, and even if they did not exist. Business was business, and he couldn't keep expecting it to survive on its own.

He showered quickly, wincing every time he had to bend over to wash, dry or dress. Running the upcoming meeting through his head kept his feelings for Heart at bay, for now, but they pressed on him especially as his reflection looked back at him from the mirror as he shaved and applied a light cover-up to mask the bruises.

His only saving grace with sleeping in was that he didn't have to worry about a commute. It was just a secured elevator ride up to his office.

A reply to Carol was sent, and two other e-mails responded too within the time it had taken him to travel from his sub-basement room to his office. It was just as he was entering a boardroom full of bodies that his communicator beeped to life within his ear. It was Kalide; it was always Kalide, always at the most inopportune moment.

"I've just received a call from Poison. We got a problem."

Wilson smiled at the group of men around him as he seated himself, offering handshakes and good mornings as he also listened to Kalide provide details.

Running.

They had been running hard through the suburban streets for almost ten minutes now.

"I can't go any further," Mandy panted.

"You have to, we can't stop," Poison encouraged.

"I can't!" she cried. Her pace was deteriorating. They would be on them in minutes.

Poison brought them to halt, turning to look down the street. The pack of marauders could be heard, but not yet seen. "Plaza, can you distract them, hold them off for a few minutes?"

He powered up, staring down the street, and he answered without looking at her. "For as long as I have too!"

"C'mon," Poison pushed Mandy forward. "A little further."

She hated the idea of leaving Plaza, but hopefully she only needed a couple of minutes. "Kalide?" she gasped into her communicator link and waited for a response.

"Poison?" He came back almost instantly.

Keeping pace with the slowing girl, a heavy sigh of relief was expelled that Kalide had responded so fast. "We are being pursued. Kriegen...Liegelord's men...I need the nearest safe house?"

Mandy stumbled. Tired, exhausted, her muscles were giving up on her, her lungs begging for mercy. She had never been a runner. Driving always seemed the better option.

"I can't. I can't anymore," Mandy was crying, hopelessness settling in. Crying in embarrassment for being the weak link that was going to get them all killed.

Poison stopped them at the mouth of an alley behind a strip mall. Turning back to look at the way they had come for any pursuers. Listening for any signs. Tapping her foot as she waited for direction from Kalide.

He came back with an answer. "Three blocks north. There is a closed down service station. It's ours. Code panel is just inside the service bay. There should be two vehicles and armaments if need be. Or do you need back-up; I can fire up the Bethlehem?"

"There's no time," Poison responded. "I need a car, now!" And killed the link.

Guiding Mandy she said. "I want you to hide in this alley. Do not move. I'll be right back for you, right back. I'm going to find another car."

Tucking the girl away behind a dumpster, Poison took off at a sprint, pushing herself to its limit, running as fast as she could, precious moments expired with every footfall.

From where Plaza stood, the street ran down and slowly disappeared down an incline, the row of houses lining both sides disappearing into a suburban vortex. As the pursuers came forward, cresting the slow ridge, he could see them, first their heads, and then their torso's coming into view. The first line. There had to be dozens of them.

He ran to the side of the road and hefted a parked Kia Seoul, tossing it down the road where the metal screeched and screamed as it landed just in front of the first wave and went scraping-sliding along the concrete right into their line. Bowling with cars. The neighbours in the area were going to have a lot to talk about at the next block party. Next he picked a Jeep Liberty, and beside the apparent danger, and the young Mandy's life being at risk, heck his life being at risk, he smiled despite himself. Catapulted, the Liberty sailed higher than the last and dropped with a wrenching thud and shattering of glass, crushing two of the soldiers that could not get clear amidst the sudden panic and confusion. This was almost fun.

But they were getting closer, and there were only two other cars close at hand to play with.

From a distance the bangs and screams chased her, as she sprinted the first block past the line of small stores, and began to cut through the expansive parking lot of a chain grocery store. There wasn't time for three more blocks, and then to get back. She doubted Plaza could hold that many for that long.

Poison dipped to the left. Close to the end of the lot where the cars were more sparsely parked a young cowboy, jean jacket, boots, hat and she could only imagine the size of his belt buckle, was unlocking the driver's door to his oversized truck. He had parked at the end, diagonally even to protect his precious investment from any door dings of other, less conscious parkers.

Slammed from behind, the cowboy didn't know what hit him, as Poison came at him in a full sprint, barreling into his back, and slamming him into the side of his truck. The unlucky victim was unconscious as he slid to the asphalt.

She snatched the keys and jumped into the driver's seat without any remorse. She wasn't one to ask, and time dictated the necessity of what she had just done. The guy will wake up with a bitch of a headache and think he had been car-jacked. Which he had been, but for a better reason, and that's why there was insurance anyways.

It was elusive, but Mandy finally caught her breath, and made a mental note that if this was what her life was going to be like from now on then she had better start making some use of that Spa-lady membership she had. It was better than thinking about the fact that she was crouching in an alley behind a smelly dumpster; one day after finding out her family had been murdered. The ones responsible had come to her house. To what? Finish the job? Pick up the trail? Either way she had to keep her head until Poison came back for her. Once they were safe she could fall apart again.

Instantly she knew she wasn't going to make it that long. Noises of violence could be heard coming from the direction that they had left Plaza, and she was pulled back in wondering if this was how her parents had spent their last moments. Alone? Afraid? Had they thought of her?

Screeching tires and Poison's voice yelling for her to get in the truck kept her from tipping into the abyss.

Maintaining viciously dangerous speeds through the close streets, Poison pushed the truck as it bounced over the ascension into an alleyway, the gravel grading racketing against the undercarriage until the other side where the suspension cushioned the slight exiting descent to asphalt again.

"Where are you going? He's back that way," Mandy yelled, referring to Plaza.

"If the streets run right, hopefully coming around the other side," Poison managed to reply behind gritted teeth while keeping her eyes pressed forward on the cityscape whizzing by.

Hopefully? Mandy stared at her for a moment.

Then, without warning, Poison guided the truck into a slide into the crossing street.

"Holy fuck!" Mandy erupted with induced surprise as she was sent sideways in her seat, her face pressing into the glass window and muffling her words.

Tires squealed, as the truck was pulled hard, and Mandy screamed her expletive a second time as the vehicle slammed into the camp of soldiers, and Mandy's squishing face was greeted by the bloodied face of the soldier that was smashed against the opposite side.

Poison had doubled back. Coming at the side of the mass of men. Risking the chance Plaza would not be among them.

Stomping the gas pedal, the front end took its dents as others were clipped and sent sprawling, and one of the soldiers tried to leap clear but was still clipped by the front end and sent rolling across the hood to deliver cracks to the passenger's side of the windshield before he disappeared off the side.

Not bringing the vehicle to a stop, but slowing down to pull beside the waiting Plaza, Poison called from her open window. "Need a ride?"

Plaza jumped into the open truck bed behind the passenger cabin just as Poison began to accelerate again, leaving the oncoming soldiers as afterthoughts in the rear-view.

"We're clear, and on our way," Poison said into her communicator.

"Good, we need you," Kalide responded. There was a moment of silence, and Poison turned onto a main drive that would lead to an exit for the freeway before Kalide came back. "You're going to need to use the North Bay entrance."

He was gone again, which was strange because the north entrance was rarely used. It was too far out of the way, but she waited for an explanation. Kalide came back with an unexpected one. They were under siege!
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

The whole building seemed to shake, and the glass panes of the 60th floor board room rattled.

The successive bell tones of the fire alarm immediately followed along with the automated female voice announcing requests that people begin moving towards the nearest stairwell.

Wilson accompanied his Chief Financial Officer, Marshall out of the boardroom. The hallway was busy with employees steadily making their way towards the stairwells; the majority of them grumbling about the sixty floor descent that awaited them.

Resting his hand on Marshall's shoulder, Wilson said. "Get these people out, and get clear. We are under attack?"

"Here?"

"I know," Wilson replied, and turned away down the hall. He had no intention of evacuating. According to the reports Kalide had received from Poison, the Liegelord's men were here. Wilson had never anticipated they would come so quickly, if at all. His brow furrowed with creases of worry.

Checking on David, again out of it, what a scientific mystery this man was. The air and heat were akin to a tropical rainforest in the infirmary. Kalide's system registered one-hundred percent humidity in the room and temperatures that were way above those required to melt any ice formations, but he could see David's left arm was an icicle. Were his weather manipulation powers malfunctioning after the trials he had suffered under the Liegelord's experiments? Currently David's body temperature was way below normal. It was even below that of a dead body's, but his heart still beat and his blood still flowed into the syringe that Kalide extracted from David's unfrozen right arm. The sample was needed to run more tests.

Tests that were going to have to wait as Poison came online.

They were being pursued and required transport. Securing the blood sample, Kalide hurried to the Communications room. He could remote access the system to bring up any schematics through his cybernetics, but it would take longer to filter through, and from the communications room he could more efficiently utilize the system to discern the location of the nearest safe house.

It was after that the alarms went off. Kalide spun in his chair pulled up the monitors while activating the outside cameras to display the streets lining the building and the exterior of Stardawn Enterprises.

Chaos.

From the alarm people were emptying out into the streets into the welcoming arms of the Liegelord's men. Lambs to a slaughter.

"Stop the evac, stop them. We can't allow them to the streets, pull then back in," Kalide jumped onto the communicator. Where were the authorities?

Kalide was on the move, racing down to the armoury and then back to the elevator. For safety reasons, in the event of a fire alarm the buildings elevators automatically dropped to the main floor and were rendered unusable. Occupants had to use the stairwell to descend. The private elevator that ran down into the sub-levels had no failsafe. The secured elevator was accessible on all four sub-levels and then only from a private exit on the main lobby floor and higher up on Wilson's undisclosed floor. The building's stairwells would be packed with employees making the slow climb down, but along with the secured elevator was a separate stairwell that fed into the sub-levels.

"Get security on the line," Kalide spoke to Wilson while entering the elevator. "They need to lead the people out. We're going to have to bring them through our headquarters and use the access tunnels. It's the only safe way! I've disengaged the recognition software."

Kalide opened a live feed allowing him to directly access the video of the security cameras around the buildings. From different angles of the cameras he could see the Liegelord's men enter the lobby of the building. The front was mostly made up of ten foot glass panels that they had easily stormed through. Now they were cutting down panicked innocents with swords, breaking legs and backs with maces. Pillage and plunder in line with their medieval portrayal.

"Jesus, Wilson, their being killed!"

The elevator had never moved so slowly.

Arriving at his private quarters on the seventy-fifth floor, Wilson grabbed for his cell phone and called Marshall. He could hear the commotion from the stairwell that Marshall was in, but he was the only one that knew about the buildings secret access. Wilson relayed the message to him to have security pull the people back and lead them to escape through the access tunnels that fed into the garage of their headquarters.

"Are you sure?" Marshall responded, yelling over the echoing mass of voices.

"It is the only way to get anyone to safety," he hoped as he tossed the phone onto his desk.

Undressing to reveal the grey and white, form-fitting outfit he wore underneath, Wilson dropped his blazer, stepped out of his pants, then tore his shirt free as he made his way to the balcony. From so high up the hordes below looked like specks. Hundreds. The Liegelord had brought hundreds to Stardawn Enterprises. Mid-morning, on a weekday, and the people he had employed were paying the price.

"How could there be so many?" He found himself thinking out loud. If he had thought there had been so many residing in that mountain, if he had known they were so many, they wouldn't have left. He would have finished it.

But in giving Squire and Plaza sanctuary, in taking back David, they had led the Liegelord here, to a building full of innocent people.

Sirens in the distance, authorities, E.M.S. Help was coming.

Skin broke and cartilage automatically began growing out of the wound, building, forming wings on his back. It was a painful process but the tears in his eyes were not in response to growing wings in mere seconds, but at the loss of life happening below; the innocents being killed because of his irresponsibility.

Eagledawn dove from his balcony. The bird of prey again, diving towards its target in a steep dive where the whistling cut of the wind drowned out the ruckus from below.

He swooped into the mass of bodies, blindly grabbing two assailants randomly and pulled out in an arc. Ascending, he released his grip, the upward momentum flinging the two victims into the side of the building, where they then dropped unconscious the thirty feet or so to land on their associates.

Arrows and shots trailed after Eagledawn as his wings carried him up out of range.

That was two down, and he probably wouldn't get away with that trick twice. Two in the sea of hundreds.

The three new arrivals raced from the garage, making their way to the second sub-level.

"Kalide, we're in," Poison spoke into her communicator as she led the way through the floors.

Mandy followed, moving on autopilot as Plaza brought up the rear.

"Kalide, can you hear me?" Poison called out again after not receiving a response.

A yes followed by the background noise of shots being fired was returned through the communications link.

"Where are you?"

"I'm on the crossover on level 2. I've been trying to cover the employees escape. So many...so many of the Liegelord's men were on the street, are on the street. In the initial panic people were rushing to get out through the front entrance and the stairwell also emptied out to the front of the building. They were waiting, and just slaughtered them as they came out!"

"And now?" Again, there was no immediate response, so Poison continued. "We're coming to you."

Kalide came back again. "Second floor, and I have a present for you, but you're going to have to use the stairs. We're shuttling people down the private elevator. Our only option is to get the survivors out through our access tunnels."

It sounded worse than she could have imagined. They were at the infirmary. Hopefully David was back to himself. They were going to need the help evacuating the civilians.

But hope is only a dream of the awake counterbalanced by the nightmare of despair.

"Dear God what have they done to him?" Mandy couldn't help herself.

"You'll sleep better at night not knowing the answer, trust me," Poison replied.

He wasn't awake, but lay in a contortioned pose of agony. Patches of cold blue skin cracked and peeling to produce open wounds where icicles of red blood grew outwards like winter thorns.

"Shit! Shit!" Poison paced back and forth beside David's body, before turning to Mandy. "Wait here. Let me know when he wakes."

"You're leaving me here with this corpse?" Mandy stepped backwards. "He's not going anywhere soon, look at him?"

"He'll get better," Poison was forceful as she pushed a device into Mandy's hand. "This is a communicator. It fits over your ear just like a Bluetooth."

"Why are we even staying, shouldn't we be getting out of here?" She was panicking, scared, exhausted. The people that had killed her family were close, in the building, and the body lying on the bed not three feet from her looked inhuman. "Let's just get out of here!"

"We can't run away from this," Poison came close. "I need you to stay here and watch over him for me. You'll be safe here, but if need be, protect him until I come back."

Mandy was almost laughing now. It wasn't of one of humour, but of hysterics. "Protect? I don't even have a weapon."

"Just wait a minute, I'll be right back," Poison nodded to Plaza as she left the room.

Sprinting through the halls she made it down to the Armoury in record time. Poison grabbed three extra quivers, held them by the straps, and slung them over her shoulder. She then grabbed a fourth item and exited the room. Making her way down the hall she was slowed, awkward with the encumbrance.

"Here," she passed the fourth item to Mandy as she returned to the infirmary. "Now you have a weapon."

"A sword?" Mandy delivered a face that said she couldn't believe Poison was serious.

"Your brother's sword," Poison said as she began preparing herself. She loaded her crossbow, strapped on the extra quivers. She had four now, twenty-five shafts per quiver, equalling one-hundred arrows. She wished she had grabbed more.

The Lobby.

Stardawn Enterprises covered over half a city block. The West end of the base level held four rows of elevator banks and beyond that two sets of rotating doors that provided access into the building. Infrared showed it was clear and Kalide tossed charges that brought the ceiling and portions of the second floor down, blocking the entrance.

The other side of the elevator banks was larger. The main entrance was to the East, inviting employees and guests into an expansive lobby with reception area, coffee shop and an open ceiling to the second level concourse where escalators ran up to the various other small shops; drycleaners, a florist and fast food restaurants for the hungry lunch masses.

It was through the main East doors that Liegelord's army was flooding in. He did not need his infrared to discern the horrific scenes playing out. He would have preferred to be blind. The lobby was filled with the intruders, blood and screams their anthem.

Kalide engaged.

Switching to infrared he shot smoke canisters into the mass of men to cause them some confusion. Blind them and give him some advantage as he pushed forward to the main doors. He wanted to blow those also, at least block any more from entering.

He moved on automatic, firing concussion grenades to his left and letting loose his laser to the other side. Shooting tendril filaments. They fell in the dozens. Watching for survivors, but there were few, victims of the first wave of the invasion. When he could he pointed the ones he found to the private stairwell and issued compact filters that fit into their noses to help them breath though the smoke.

And then he did his best to cover their escape.

Practically firing blindly because it was easy not to miss, but trusting his systems to differentiate those that were not soldiers. Size, shape, heart rates.

The sheer weight of numbers moved closer on him, and he emitted sonics from his rear pack that pierced their ears, making some drop as they held their heads in a feeble attempt to block out the noise and protect their bursting eardrums.

But they were too many. His system registering damage as arrows shot into his metal, and maces bashed against him. Kalide was using every gadget he had, trying to gain space but could not get enough time to reload. He was being pushed into hand to hand.

His blade ejected from his right arm, as he blocked a sword that came sweeping down.

Closer, he could see the main doors, and shot charges high in the direction, and then shot a line to the second floor concourse that pulled him high of the swinging weapons and grabbing hands.

Others had already invaded the second floor, but it gave him the brief moment to reload and assess the front entrance way. It was clear of any employees. The second floor walk way above also appeared clear, he just prayed he was right as he ignited the charges blowing the doors and portion of floor above that brought debris and bodies of the enemy down to create a barricade.

Now it was just dealing with the ones already inside, and the masses on the street surrounding the building.

Internal proximity radar warned him as he instantly reacted and spun around to shoot two men charging him from across the concourse.

The second level contained a glassed in walkway that linked Stardawn Enterprises with another skyscraper across the street. It was here that Kalide positioned himself. His back housed a large compartment area that stuck out like a pack and from here he pulled out parts and accessories and began building his modified version of the Heckler and Koch HK417 medium range sniper rifle, mostly used by British Special Forces. Shattering the glass pane before him, he set the rifle's bi-pod, and adjusted the scope.

Sirens and lights beyond announced the arrival of the authorities.

"I'm on the second level skyway," Kalide announced into his communicator. "I'm opening all channels across the line. We have back up. Authorities have arrived. I'm placing a call to have transport and emergency vehicles redirect to pick up the ones coming through our tunnels."

By the time he had finished, he had been able to place bullets into the heads of four unsuspecting soldiers below.

Ducks in a barrel.

Legs tucked under her, Mandy was curled up in the chair across from David, who she now refused to look at anymore because it was disgusting the way his body kept changing with the skin splitting open, then reforming. So instead she focussed on the sword lying across her lap. Her brother's sword? Well not Brian's sword, but the sword of the Squire, what her brother had been changed into.

"What you must have been going through, while I was being the selfish one," she said to herself, talking to the sword as if some remnant of her brother existed there. "Even with you missing, presumably dead. I was still jealous of you. I was mad that mom couldn't pull her shit together. I was mad that life couldn't reach some level of normalcy again."

She looked up at the ceiling, titling her head in a vain attempt to hold the building tears from escaping. "Normalcy?"

Mandy laughed a little to herself, one of those half crying laughs. "Normalcy? I'm sitting here in a basement headquarters of some secret group, holding the weapon of my brother's alternate self and watching over a mutant coma patient..."

"Do you always talk this much, or only when it's to yourself?"

Mandy jumped, startled. The mutant coma patient wasn't in a coma anymore.

Perched high above, Eagledawn heard the sirens just as Kalide was announcing the authorities' arrival. He dove again, spiralling down to avoid the arrows as they whizzed by. At the last moment he spread his wings wide, catching the air, swinging his legs down and landing like a jack hammer that snapped the spine of the random target. He drove his elbow back into a face, and swung his right foot up into the crotch of another. He had incapacitated one, only injuring the two others, unable to finish the job before having to take flight again, arcing back up into the skies.

"Wilson," Kalide came through. "I'm patching in Marshall from his cell phone."

"Marshall?" Eagledawn tested the link.

"Wilson," he said. "I'm in your suite. Others are arriving from the public stairs. The elevators so small, it is going to take forever to get all these people down."

"Then send them to the private stairs. Use the elevator for those that need it. I know it's a long way but there are killers on their way up. We have to get these people out without any further losses"

"How much time do we have?"

"We'll make sure there's time. The others are coming, we'll hold the line." Eagledawn swung back to his building and entered through a window on the 74th floor. He was not going to lose anyone else.

Poison led the way. Hurrying up the stairs as she conquered two steps at a time while saying to Plaza who was right on her heels. "Thank you for staying...for coming with me now."

"This is as much my fight as it is yours."

She was impressed with him. With every fight they had clawed through together she was more impressed by him, and she was not the impressionable type. "I thought you'd say you had nowhere else to go?"

"I ran from the Liegelord because I know what is right from wrong. I know inherent evil. I know the difference between killing and fighting for what is right."

They ran past the main level door with one more flight to go, as Plaza continued. "Squire was my friend, and he was murdered, and for that the Liegelord will pay. And if what he said was true, there is a family out there of mine, and maybe when this is over I can get back what Squire did, my memories, my true self, and remember them?"

"Kalide is this way," she led Plaza out into the second floor before bringing him to a halt. Half the windows in the building were shattered, and as they looked out they could see the people in the streets below that were either dead or dying. Poison could also see in the distance that emergency vehicles had cordoned off a wide area, but were unable to enter to help them. They were under siege, and currently on their own.

"Down there, look," she pointed.

The Liegelord walked among the civilians, touching the dead. When he came upon a wounded victim, ignoring their pleas, he drove his sword into their chest, killing them. Then he placed his hand on them while leaning back with his eyes closed. It looked to Poison like he was almost shaking.

"What the hell is he doing?" Poison said in disgust.

"Feeding," Plaza answered.

"What?"

"Watch out," was Plaza's reply as he stepped in front of her. Chest, stomach and face in armoured form as arrows tinked, and broke against his metal skin.

Poison came from behind and shot her own weapon at the three oncoming attackers. She was a better shot, and instantly reduced their number by one.

Plaza charged across the concourse as the soldiers made the futile attempt at bringing him down with another volley. He barrelled into both of them, sending them flying over the glass railing to the first floor.

The mutant coma patient was standing there looking all normal. There had been some strange things lately, she had seen things that made her believe she was just enduring the longest night of dreams ever, but Mandy was dumb founded this time. One minute the guy was out of it and covered in strange wounds, the next he's standing there half naked with no signs of having suffered any trauma at all.

"I'm not going to ask how or why, or how it is the world doesn't know about you guys...well maybe it's not so surprising considering Bigfoot and the Loch Ness, but...I'm just going to go with it and try to get through today alive," Mandy ranted.

Dressed, and nodding as the girl carried on David motioned to his guest. "C'mon follow me."

"Okay," she reluctantly agreed, and followed him out into the hall.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" He asked as he laboured on. David felt groggy and sluggish. The wall provided more support than he was comfortable needing.

"I'm not completely sure. We're...the building, is under attack. I was told to stay and watch you."

"And what part of 'we' are you?" He stopped and turned to look at her

"Mandy Welder," she held out her right hand and he accepted it into his, giving a quizzical look as if needed more explanation than just a name. "I'm Brian's sister." She offered.

"Brian?"

"Codename's, right," she fumbled, it seemed strange, silly. "My brother was, Squire!"

Still holding her hand he leaned in close to further inspect her face. "The sword should have tipped me off. Well, Mandy Welder, what do you think?"

"I think that we should stay here!" She slowly pulled her hand out of his. "Poison said she would be back when it was clear. That I was to stay here and keep an eye on you in case you woke up, and tried to do the exact thing you are doing right now. She said to make sure you stayed put. Which I will point out you are not."

"I've never been very good at that."

"So I'm learning," her body language expressed her fear and resentment at moving further ahead, but being left alone seemed like a less desirable option. She brandished the device Poison had left with her. "I have this thing...to call her."

"I've got one also. Now let's go find Poison," he smiled at her.

Hard to resist, he was a charmer. She smiled back "You get your own way a lot, don't you?"

"Is it cold in here, or is just me?" Mandy asked as she trudged up the stairwell behind David, not holding the handrail, but wrapping her arms around herself.

With her next step she felt as if she had passed through an invisible curtain and suddenly felt warmer.

"How's that?" David said, and then fell to the ground with a grunt.

Mandy grabbed his arm to help him up. David leaned against the wall, clenching his teeth to help control the pain erupting inside, and hoping the sudden dizziness would pass.

"Are you okay?" Mandy asked. "Maybe we better just stick to Poison's plan of us staying put?" Mandy expressed her opinion, which she thought was a damn good one.

"Nope!" He replied as he steadied himself with the handrail, and faced forward towards the ascending stairs. "Right as rain."

Granted, David thought to himself, if that was entirely true he could have flown them both up the centre of the stairwell, instead of this slow, long road. Flying was so much more efficient, but he did not feel like he was tuned into the elements.

They moved on, David in the lead, as he walked he couldn't help but feel concerned over what had just happened. The girl was cold, so he simply made the air warmer. An afterthought on a normal day, but his belly had exploded as if on fire. Something was missing or lost. He had felt the disruption, along with the pain, which was gone now, but it had been so sudden and intense that he still walked with his hand over his stomach as if worried another such episode may strike suddenly. This loss of control was going to be a certain detriment to the events they were climbing towards from the sound of things.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Fighting through the members of Liegelord's army that were dispersed around the second level concourse, Plaza and Poison made their way to Kalide.

He was still shooting from his sniper position, picking off his targets, and keeping them from working the blockade he had created earlier at the front entrance. Tapped into the authorities' network, he picked up their broadcasts. Back-up had moved in, swat and federal agents, but between holding the medieval army at bay, and working to evacuate the other buildings in the downtown core, everything was a mess.

Poison fell in beside him. She shot her arrows down to the front of the crowd where Kalide had already created a fair mass of twitching bodies, and then ducked as several arrows came from below in retaliation.

"You brought me presents?" She reminded Kalide as she popped her head up again, only to have an arrow whistle by her ear before she could release her own against the shooter.

Kalide passed her three crossbow bolts.

Mandated with taking out the elusive sniper, other soldiers had come up through the building across the street that was connected to Stardawn by the flyover tunnel. Plaza defended the enclosed bridge during their exchange. Soldiers charged and broke against the force of Plaza. He snapped necks, shattered blades against his armoured hide and broke limbs. Nobody was getting through.

"What are these?" Poison asked as she dispensed the bolts into her back quiver.

"Inhibitor arrows," Kalide replied, as he swung his rifle around and hit one of the soldiers that had gotten by Plaza. The power of the gun at such close range sent the victim flying backwards with a spray of blood erupting from his chest. "I've been working on them. These soldiers are more ordinary, augmented in strength and reflexes, but otherwise ordinary. Bred or just brainwashed I don't know, but Plaza was engineered. Squire also, and that Kriegen has powers. Those hunters are inhuman. Maybe the knights that Wilson encountered. The idea being that it blocks their powers. They're loaded with a serum that once injected into the target secretes an enzyme blocker, like a virus, should work on that Kriegen, hopefully the Liegelord. If you can get close enough to make the shot."

Plaza was being overrun, as more of the soldiers came through the other building to utilize the walkway.

"Fall back," Kalide ordered as he lifted the rifle from the stabilizing pod, and began backing out of the glass tunnel firing past Plaza at the new wave of attackers.

Joining suit, Poison worked their retreat back into Stardawn. Most of the soldiers that had gotten in earlier had been taken out, or had vanished into the stairwells.

"Now, move...move," Kalide ordered, and Plaza listened, running over the bridge as Kalide's bullets winged by. "Cover, I'm blowing it."

Both ends of the crossway erupted in explosions and the thirty or so soldiers trapped inside fell to the street below in a rain of glass and metal. A gaping hole was left in the building's wall.

"We're heading up to find Wilson; find this Kriegen," Poison told Kalide as she tapped the quiver that held her new presents.

"I'll safe guard the access points. That explosion left a mighty big door," Kalide responded. He had never blown up this much shit in one day before.

"Once it's clear, we'll be back, and we finish this. Take care of the outside," Poison stated before taking off for the stairwell with Plaza in tow. If they made it that long? She was half surprised the four of them had been able to hold out this long considering the numbers. So far they had been lucky, or just lucky to have the home base advantage. She cursed over her shoulder to Plaza. "Shit, it's going to be a lot of stairs."

Climbing up from the street below, more were already coming, using the second floor hole as an opening. Kalide loaded another magazine and began firing again.

Torn in spots, Eagledawn's uniform was also speckled with blood as he exited the stairwell onto the 48th floor.

The tears in his uniform and drying blood evidence of the trials he had overcome on his descent. They painted a picture of the enemy he had left unconscious, and regrettably sometimes dead, as he travelled down each floor, looking for survivors, and stopping any of the Liegelord's men from getting any closer to those trying to escape.

Each floor of the building had two stairwells. One on the East, and one the West side of the floor, and every fifth floor was a crossover. If a stairwell was inoperable because of fire, smoke, or damage, or because congestion was slowing an evacuation, escaping employees could crossover to use the opposing stairwell without worrying about having their security card to gain access to the offices, and other exit.

Eagledawn had been scouring each floor, and some of the employees he had come across had rallied behind him as they fought their way down with him. Picking up swords and maces of the few overzealous soldiers that had charged up in advance, hungry for blood, wanting to be the first to inspect the spoils. But they had been the ones to find uneasy targets.

The main frontal assault was moving fast, a wave of death flooding up each stairwell and sweeping onto each floor to prey on the frightened and weak. Wrecking what they could. Destroying things and lives for pillaging sake.

The first of that wave was now bleeding onto the 48th floor just as Eagledawn arrived with his small insurrection.

Eagledawn fought with his inexperienced compatriots, and they had been a great help in taking out the few advance guards when they had the numbers. Now they were defending against a larger body and they were overpowered. Against Wilson's direction, one man charged ahead and was cut down when a sword cracked open his skull. Another was severely injured.

"Get away, this is too much," Wilson ordered as he was drawing them back towards the exit.

His band of men seemed uncertain. They were scared, but nobody wanted to be a coward and turn tail and run. None of them wanted to leave him all alone.

"I want you to go. This is suicide," Wilson ordered as he swiped out with claws, striking the face of an attacker. Ripping three symmetrical lines that tore open the cheek, exposing the jaw. "Leave me. Watch the stairs. Protect the others."

Another came in. Running and yelling. Eagledawn batted him aside with his wing, and as the attacker swung around, Eagledawn's knee drove into his stomach and claws raked across both shoulders, tearing ligaments and muscle. Those arms would not be carrying any weapons anytime soon.

The men were listening. Escaping into the stairs, but they had procrastinated too long. One of them fell in the doorway as several arrows sunk into his back, sending him flying forward to the ground.

Another casualty. It was too much, too much. Eagledawn looked ahead at the bloodthirsty soldiers coming down the hall at them. They were just killing machines. They had no remorse, no regret,

And neither would he. There would be no holding back, and he pushed away his regard for the sanctity of life.

Eagledawn came at them, marching down the hall, wings spread, fangs bared, and ready claws that were already dripping with the juice of their most recent victims. None of them were going any further. For Elizabeth and the countless innocents that had lost their lives today, this was his stand.

The telekinetic blast shot Eagledawn down the corridor into the painful embrace of the wall. The attack had come from Kriegen, his wife's murderer.

He was once again face to face with the one whom had stolen Elizabeth from him. He had not fully recognized Kriegen that night in the alley because the ravages of time had not been gentle to the monster. Kriegen had changed so much over the years, even again in the short time since their re-acquaintance. New waves of flesh, each a malformation in its own design had twisted into unholy configurations.

Eagledawn pulled himself to his feet, and taunted. "You remember me?"

Kriegen stormed down the hall, snarling, closing the distance. "I remember how I broke you, snapped those wings like twigs, and I'll do it again!"

"Remember me!" It was a demand.

Kriegen was closer. "I'm going to remind you of agony old man."

"YOU MURDERED MY WIFE!"

"I've murdered hundreds, thousands," Kriegen said as his thunder steps echoed off the walls. Closer!

Eagledawn held onto a single thought. This was his wife's killer. This time he would not falter. This time he would not go down.

It was time for retribution.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

They were almost at the main level. The girl trudged behind, mumbling. The heavy sword slowed her down, but she insisted on carrying it.

"Poison? It's David."

"David," she came back. Her voice was full of relief. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm working my way up to you with..." he looked down the step at his follower.

"Mandy," she reminded him and rolled her eyes.

"David, it's a bad situation. We're evacuating the employees out through the access tunnels. I want Mandy out with the rest before you come up to engage."

"I'm not turning back, now. I'm not leaving."

"You didn't listen..."

"I'm not!"

"Suit yourself. Your conscience."

"Listen," Mandy made him turn around. "I need a moment. We need to stop."

She was a little short of breath. The damn sword was heavier than she thought. She had no clue how to use it, but she needed it, wanted it with her. "What are we walking into up there, it sounds like a war?"

"It's the sound of our friends needing us," David responded while continuing to move.

"Stop a minute. It's all so fast, everything; I need to catch my breath. My legs feel all wobbly."

"We have to keep going," David urged her on.

"The least you could do is afford me a minute. Let me get my head straight here," she demanded. "My brother died saving you!"

That brought him to a halt, and he looked down on her. "Your brother died doing what was right. Don't tarnish that with anger."

She was exhausted, afraid, and every instinct in her body told her to run and hide. Self-preservation and the loss of her family were weighing her down. She looked up at him feeling his words sting, and inhaled a deep breath of resolve. Then she started climbing again.

The pair of them came out into the main floor, down a short hall and into the lobby.

"Oh my god?" Mandy choked.

David quickly grabbed her and pulled her into his chest, hiding her eyes. "I never imagined..."

The carnage. The destruction. The noise of hundreds of voices outside.

"I want out. I want out. I want out," Mandy was pleading into his chest.

"Okay. Okay. I didn't realize....there's so much...I didn't realize," he was at a loss of words upon seeing the casualties.

A mass of bodies tumbled down from the open floor above. Kalide was among them, gaining his feet and striking out wildly.

"I'll get you out," David promised Mandy. "Stay here, and in one second and I'll get you out."

She was nodding, sinking to the floor and pressing her eyes shut and cupping her hands over her ears to close out the clamour of the fighting, and the constant pounding from outside.

Several other men were flying over the edge in dive attacks, knocking Kalide back down, but they were unaware of the newcomer that controlled the air, and funnelled a wind that caught others as they came jumping down over the edge, but were caught. Suspended in mid-air, then pushed back up and over, out of sight.

He ran in closer to help Kalide who was back on his feet, driving his arm blade down into the chest of an opponent. Winterkill reached out and with serpentine rings of energy spiralling around his hands grabbed one of the unsuspecting attackers from behind. The soldier dropped to the floor, shaking with the electric lightening that had been poured into him. With his other hand, Winterkill sent brain numbing currents into a metal helmet.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," Kalide said as he pulled David back. "We need fog, rain, anything to throw them off. More are coming through the second floor."

"Where are the others?" David asked, pulling at the air, increasing the humidity, trying to induce a fog inside the building. There was nothing, and he felt out of touch, not in sync with the environment again. Strange.

The blockade of the front entranceway collapsed amidst a rumble.

"They're in," Kalide pointed out, as a deluge of the siege army came cascading over the rubble of the broken barricade.

Over the course of his brash life, Winterkill had been in some fights, some pretty big fights, but nothing like this, on this scale, against so many. Kalide had been in the wars, and David knew that Poison had been in some hot spots, in the thick of it, but this was nuts.

The girl was screaming. First priority was to get her out. He had brought her here. It was a mistake, and she was his responsibility. He had to look after here.

Moments ago his weather manipulation powers were unresponsive, but he pushed forward, enticing a directed hurricane to disorient them and push them back with gale force winds. Instead his outstretched arms crackled, hands turning blue, and Winterkill cried out in pain as the moisture surrounding his forearms froze and ice accumulated. Growing, stretching, shooting forward from his arms, a torpedo of ice blasted forward knocking the charging soldiers off of their feet, and the tip formed into a needle that impaled another and pushed him forward to the doorway where the ice formation grew. From a distance Winterkill splayed the frozen formation over the entrance, creating an ice shield that closed in the building. Soldiers that were just making their way into the building were now trapped, sealed inside the ice coffin.

Winterkill dropped to one knee, exhausted, his stomach burning with the same fire he had felt earlier in the stairwell. "What is happening?"

"Whatever it is, you sealed the building," Kalide called over to him as he defended against another strike.

He pushed forward and the air funnel froze and solidified into four to six inch shards of ice that pierced the armour of the rushing attackers; cutting them down as if they had been caught in a rain of bullets.

"Help...help me!" Mandy was calling out.

David spun. Following the voice he could barely see the girl. He had let them get separated and now she was being surrounded. The sword she carried flashed as she swung it uncontrollably, barely keeping them at bay.

Winds were lifting him. Those caressing winds back under him and he flew up and over. Anxious to save her, he could see her hair, hear her voice. "Stephanie!"

Ice formed around his forearms extending out to his hands to form frozen clubs as he dropped down, calling out to her again. "Stephanie!" Swinging wildly to clear a path to get to her, the newly formed clubs of ice knocking back the soldiers. "Its okay, Steph, I'm here." He positioned himself in front of her, holding back the army.

"I'm Mandy," she reminded him.

David looked at her, confused. He had startled at her voice, been taken back again. The pain of his memories pushing the past into clarity. Ice and the maelstrom of his mind. He was losing it when he needed most to hold on. He looked at her, a fleeting glance over his shoulder as he defended her against the enemy, and all he could see was his sister. How he remembered her in the frame of his memory.

"I'm sorry, Mandy...run...make for the door...get back down to the quarters. Kalide and I will hold them."

Dragging her sword, Mandy ran. Somebody, something, tackled her to the ground, but she kicked and kicked and twisted and broke free, finding her feet and running again.

Snow was falling. It was snowing inside the building, and the soft flakes left winter kisses on her cheeks as she slid into the door, locked. Kalide was shouting the code, and she fumbled with the numerical panel, screwed something up, and tried again. The snow was heavier now, floating into her eyes. It must have been David's doing. She checked over her shoulder and one of the soldiers was getting close, a snarling hungry smile, a rapist smile. Third time lucky? Mandy was whispering the code over and over as she pressed the key sequence one more time. The hiss of disengaging locks and the small green light offered her sanctuary as she yanked the door open, slid behind it while pulling it shut.

Pointing towards the door, David focused and ice began to form around the door, seeping into the small opening of the frame and sealing it shut.

She was safe. Now he could cut loose. Winterkill.

Kalide was calling out to him. They had been spread apart. The soldiers creating a wedge that divided them.

"C'mon...C'mon," Winterkill antagonized, as he pushed into the army.

His powers were unreliable. He called for the winds to pull him up and give the advantage of height, but received no response. And when he reached out to shoot shards of edged ice like before, lightning struck out instead, conducting its energy across the chain mailed guards.

His arm shot up and instantly raised an ice wall to block a volley of arrows. He reached out with his other hand, grabbing a face that his cold power froze. Immediate frostbite.

They were swarming. He had the advantage of power, but they had the numbers. Pain, a sword bit into his side, and the flat of an axe cracked against the back of his head, impounding his skull. Fire in his belly again as he his body worked at healing the wounds. The axe landed in his back making him fumble forward. Heal. Punch. A pole of ice shot up from the ground trapping one, and knocking two others back. Something else pounded his back driving him down.

And there in the distance he saw the big white fuck. The Liegelord surrounded by his entourage of knights. Black armour, shields, swords, and spiked ball on a chain-Morningstar.

Everything went silent. The snow that covered the ground billowing up as he fell into it. There was a ringing in his ears as his skull was bashed in again. Knights and swords and the one who called himself king. The medieval in the present and the only thing running through his head was that time warp song. The Rocky Horror version. "Fucking funny movie," was David's last thought before the darkness.

They didn't know, but he knew. He would rise again.

Mandy had slammed the door shut and quickly pulled her hands back as she felt the coldness. Then she saw the ice forming out of thin air. Sliding to the floor, crying. Was it again or still, and her leg hurt. She had been cut in the upper thigh, not deeply, but enough to cause a limp, enough that her blue jeans were darkened with the wet stain of her escaping blood.

She startled as there was thumping at the door. Once, twice and she saw some of the ice splinter with a crack. Mandy remembered her communicator and fumbled in her pocket. "Poison, we're in trouble. Can you hear me? We're in trouble."

Voices on the other side of the door accompanied by more banging. She slid over to the stairs to start making her way down.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The fist flew into Eagledawn's face; scrunching the nose into itself as if it was suddenly as flexible as an accordion. He reeled backwards, arms pin wheeling to keep his balance, but it was to no avail. He was going down, and as soon as he hit the floor he would be at his assailant's mercy. Two seconds into the melee and he was beat. His head cracked on the hard floor and another set of dancing stars flitted behind his eyes.

This was it. He would be dead with the deliverance of the next blow.

What a failure.

All that bravado had been nothing but hot air.

He was failing her again!

Towering over him, Kriegen spit down. "Useless!" And drove his foot into Eagledawn's mid-section. Eagledawn felt something crack.

"Help me," Eagledawn choked into his com-link, hoping somebody could hear him. "48th floor..."

Almost there.

They had met resistance earlier on, and Plaza had fallen behind. He was still coming but he was a few floors down. Poison's thighs were on fire from the countless flights of stairs, but she bit her lip and pushed herself harder than she ever had before. Driven by her father's pleas for help.

48th floor.

She kicked the door open and dived into the hall, rising to her feet and checking both sides. She moved forward and turned the corner. A knight had his back to her, unaware of her arrival. Considering she was almost out of arrows, Poison reached down and withdrew a six inch double-sided boot knife. It was for when wetwork had to be up close and personal. Panther silent she closed the distance, reached behind and slit his throat, guiding the man's fall as he clutched at the wound gurgling for air.

Crossbow in hand again, she went quickly yet stealthily down the hall, checking her corners. The office on the left was empty. The right was not. Poison fired a bolt into the surprised guard's chest, reloaded, and delivered another into his throat.

Screams. Eagledawn's. She was running now, foregoing safety for speed. "Hold on! I'm coming...Hold..."

There they were, down the hall. A huge, monstrous son-of-a-bitch and Eagledawn. The big one had Eagledawn hoisted in the air, and she could see he was battered with his wings broken and resting at odd angles.

The ugly one had to be Kriegen. Poison loaded the present she received from Kalide earlier, and aimed.

Careless in her urgency to save Eagledawn she was taken by surprise as something came flying out of the open office, tackling her, making her shot go wide. She incapacitated the soldier and charged Kriegen.

Poison jumped onto his back and drove the special arrow into the top of his shoulder.

The man-monster howled and thrashed.

Poison held on with one hand grabbing anchor in a mass of the thing's hair. She quickly withdrew another special arrow and stabbed it into the thick hide of its neck.

"What have you done?" Dropping Eagledawn, both arms reached behind him, grabbing her, yanking her over and throwing her.

The poison tipped arrows may have blocked his telekinesis, but he maintained his inhuman strength.

The force behind the throw sent her flying through the wall into the adjacent office where she crash landed onto a desk, scattering the computer and other objects it held, as she slid off the other side.

Feeling the venom course through his veins, naked without his telekinetic power, Kriegen howled in anger. He bent down and lifted the barely conscious Eagledawn.

"That's my daughter," Eagledawn managed to spit out with a bare hint of a smile. "You fucking murderer."

"I have toyed with you like a cat to a mouse, but your time is over."

Eagledawn tried to hold on. He could see Plaza charging down the hall. Both of them had come. It wasn't over.

Kriegen saw him also. Snarling he turned his attention to the broken man in his arms. "Ever seen a mother bird throw her chicks out of the nest? Feel their fear!"

And he threw him. Eagledawn was flying, but not of his own accord, through the office where Poison had landed and into the reinforced glass. It shattered. 48 floors up with broken wings he had been tossed like a rag doll.

Poison saw her father sailing overhead, impacting with the glass, one wing completely breaking free. She dove, and caught one arm, sliding forward as he arced down and hit the outside of the building wall.

On her feet, she held on. One hand braced against the wall, and the other around his forearm.

Poison pulled, but she didn't have the strength to do it one handed. Not after everything, not with the wounds she had sustained.

"Plaza?" She yelled, looking over her shoulder, not sure where Kriegen was. "Plaza!"

She was answered with commotion in the hall; the strength of Plaza meeting the force of Kriegen and the sounds of more of the enemy approaching.

Her grasp slipped a little. They were both greased with blood from the day's battles, and Eagledawn was too weak to help. Poison looked down at him, straight in the eye, straining to hold on, and yelled down to him. "Everything you have done for me. Everything you have built here. I will always love you."

She had never said anything like that before to him. They were so close; family, blood, father and daughter. Complete strangers.

Noise from outside the hallway, thunder, like they were tearing the place apart. She chanced a look over her shoulder, more soldiers, they were close.

She had never said anything like that to him before, and he knew she could not pull him up. He elongated his claws and they dug into her forearm, forcing her grip to loosen more.

"What are you doing?" She cried down to him. "Don't make me give up on you. I won't. Just hold on. We can do this. Together we can do this."

She held on.

"I never did before, but now I am saving you!" He choked out, and his nails dug deeper into her forearm forcing her to reflexively let go.

Eagledawn fell as she called out to him.

"My daughter," he called up to her. "Fight!"

And he fell, swept away in the torrent of the army on the ground.

Wanting to cry, wanting to give up, she turned away from the window.

Two soldiers entered the office.

There was only one thing left to do.

Her father's last dying wish.

Fight!
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Poison picked up her dropped crossbow and swung it like a bat, breaking the weapon over the first attackers head. The man went flailing off to the side.

The second was on her, forcing her back against the wall. Two quick punches went into her stomach. They were not using weapons. They wanted more. Holding her arms back, pressing his body against hers, he licked her neck while making a sick hungry sound.

"Pretty, pretty, tastes so good," he licked her neck while making another hungry sound that sickened her.

Fight.

Poison replied by driving her knee up into his crotch. She followed that by smashing her forehead into the bridge of his nose. The soldier dropped to the floor, conscious, but rolling in pain.

Rapists, men oppressing women, she reviled it.

Her boot kicked him. Then she drove her heel down into him. Again and again, with her father's last words still ringing in her ears.

He dropped to his death so she could live. He sacrificed himself so she could fight.

A third foe entered to seize the opportunity. Preoccupied with dispensing her uncontrollable rage on the one she was kicking the punch came out of nowhere, spinning her head to the side. Poison stumbled against the desk as he came in closer for another round. His hand was gloved in mail adding to his strike when he grabbed her hair and hit her square in the face again.

But she had the fury of loss to fuel her, blinding her to the physical pain, and driving her forward.

Fight girl, make it count for something. Her hand found the last of Kalide's presents which she delivered with a cobra's striking speed, burying it deep into the man's eye.

The pleas for help from Mandy stung Poison's ears. There was no time to catch her breath. No time to process.

Startling her, Plaza came flying through the wall of the adjacent office, drywall dust and pieces flying in his wake.

"The two of us again," Poison looked down at him as she offered her hand to help him up.

"Yes, and Kriegen still rampages," Plaza replied brushing himself off as he got up. "Eagledawn?"

"Fallen," Poison looked away when she said it.

"Maybe I should give myself up, and then they will leave?"

"They won't just leave. You know that. Plus I think this is about more than just wanting you back."

"I know, but so much sacrifice, the loss."

"We're still alive, so maybe Wilson's still alive, but Mandy needs us first. Stay close." She led him out into the hall.

Rebirth.

Winterkill rose to his feet to find himself surrounded by the black armoured knights.

"Alive," one of them called over to their monarch.

The Liegelord turned and smiled. He was holding a body half up in one hand and the other hand was resting on the fresh corpse's head. The body was dropped and he stepped over to David. "You!"

The knights were holding him back, one on each arm, and one at his back with their arm around his neck. He let them. He wanted the Liegelord close.

"My immortal," Liegelord grinned again. "All of this was for you. All of this could have been avoided if you had only subjugated to me.

"Swords and shields, playing king, how long do you think you can get away with this?" Bide the time. Where was Kalide?

"This?" The Liegelord waved his arm around. "Do you think we are only sticks and stones? You have suffered in my mountain. You should know what I am capable of. What I have created. This was playtime for my restless soldiers. All for fun and for more human kindling to keep my soul fire burning."

The hands of the Liegelord were on David's face now, stroking his cheeks, but he could feel something pulling from inside of himself. It hurt but not on in a physical sense.

"I am the soul gatherer. People are my cattle. Their energy is mine. I feed, granting me years of life. Slowing the age process. Stalling the detrition of this form, but I can get sick. I can suffer illness. I can be killed. I can die, but you? You, my immortal, if I had the secret of you I could never be killed, and with your gift of healing and rebirth you are like a rechargeable battery for me. Avalon is coming. With you it is even closer at hand," the Liegelord confessed, grabbing David by the throat and hefted him up off his feet.

"What you did to me...I'm changing" David managed to choke out.

"The tide of evolution," Liegelord smirked with his hands around David's neck. The Liegelord applied pressure and there was a snap.

David's body dropped to the ground.

"Bring him, and kill whoever is left," the Liegelord ordered his knights and turned to walk away.

David rose, pushing the knights back. With outstretched arms he commanded the lightening, sending it into the surrounding knights who dropped one by one in shocked spasms. Acting as electric conduits their armour was their weakness.

In the distance, behind Liegelord, David saw his team-mates emerge. Kalide, Poison, Plaza, and thankfully the girl, Mandy was with them safe and sound.

This was David's line in the sand. He held Liegelord's gaze. "I have suffered more in my life than the nightmares you have envisioned. With every rebirth my resolve to fight against you, and the likes of you, is renewed and strengthened. I stand now, and I will still stand long after your ashes have been blown by the winds at my command. I will always rise again to ensure you will always fall."

"Petulant fool," Liegelord spat.

"Mandy?" David nodded, causing the Liegelord to turn.

Battered, tired, Mandy drew her brother's sword from its scabbard and struggled across the lobby. Her arms too tired to lift the blade, the tip dragging across the floor. "You stole everything from me, for no reason at all!"

"What more of a reason does god need than, I can?"

Ice had formed around the Liegelord's feet, rising to his knees, holding him captive.

Mandy swung with all her might. The tip of the sword stung the Liegelord's flesh and he backhanded the girl, sending her flying backwards.

The Liegelord then realized he was stuck in place and was yelling for his men, was calling for Kriegen.

She came back, wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth, and bent to retrieve her sword.

"You dare?" The Liegelord spit. "You inconsequential gnat!"

"This is my consequence," Mandy struck again, pushing the blade forward into the Liege's stomach.

"It's over?" She said, letting go of the hilt and stumbled backwards.

Poison caught her, wrapping her arms around the girl.

"It's not over," Plaza said. "They still come. Kriegen or someone else will assume the mantle of monarch."

The ice shield at the front entrance had been brought down. A fresh reserve was storming in.

David turned to them. "All of you make way for the sub-levels. Kalide get in touch with the authorities and have them pulled back at least a couple of blocks.

Poison was pulling Mandy away, heading for the exit, Plaza in tow.

"And what about you?" Kalide stayed to ask.

A pillar of ice began to form around David's feet, raising him up. "Just get below ground as fast as you can."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to show them that winter can kill."

With one hand David froze the ambient moisture in the air and the pillar of ice below his feet grew larger, lifting him up. With the other he created a battering ram of ice that he continuously reinforced as he punched his way up through the floors of Stardawn Enterprises.

Bursting through the ceiling, he rose into the sky like the morning sun. The army of the Liegelord still filled the streets below, and were pouring into the building. He had changed and he could feel the power surging from inside of him. It begged to be released, and he could feel the heat of the living out there within a radius, and he prayed it was only the enemy now. He prayed the others had gotten to safety. David let go, emitting a shockwave of freezing cold that pulsed out from his body.

The enemy was caught in his web. Their blood freezing. The ice in their veins created internal havoc and some dropped like stones. Others froze in mid-step, statues, while for others, muscles tightened, skin cracked, and the wave of Liegelord's army was frozen in time.

Drained, he fell from his pillar of ice, a fallen angel for seventy-five floors.

He would rise again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Days later in a tertiary safe house, where they were recovering, mourning, Poison found Kalide in one of the rooms where he had surrounded himself with computer terminals and monitors. It was a smaller version of the Communication Centre in their permanent headquarters. She knocked to announce her presence, but entered before he acknowledged her.

"How's it going?" She asked from her spot leaning against the wall just inside the doorway. "Are we going to be able to get back to Stardawn?"

The man-machine turned to her. "Damage control. It's all damage control. People saw. Coming through the access tunnels in their escape, it is going to come out, what we were hiding there. Wilson was seen, as Eagledawn, by people that knew him, by people that survived and are sharing their stories.

"The loss of life...more than half the people that spent their working days in that building were killed. A good majority that made it out were injured in some way. A building, its walls and glass, can be fixed, rebuilt, but Stardawn Enterprises is finished."

"We're finished?"

"Wilson had contingency plans in place. I've been in contact with and will be meeting with Marshall to handle the decommissioning of our quarters. It's sealed now, but the authorities want in. That will be only a matter of time.

"We can carry on, just not there. Funds were set up and there is still a network of safe houses. We're only finished if we want to be?"

"Well I came to tell you, David is going away for a while. I'm going to tag along, take a break. But I'm worried about Mandy."

Kalide looked up at her surprised at the news. "I'll look after her, whatever she wants. To stay or I'll set up a place for her, somewhere we can keep an eye. You intend on coming back?"

Definitely be back, she moved in and hugged him

Then I'll make room," he half smiled.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

It was a long drive, made longer by the fact that David did not say much. They had left early, and after the nine hours behind the wheel, as the sun was relenting the day to the moon, they pulled up to the house where David grew up in.

"Beach front, nice!" Poison commented, breaking the silence.

"It looks smaller," David said from behind the wheel while staring out the windshield.

"Are you sure they're still here?"

"They're still here," he knew it. Rosebushes in the front gave it away.

Poison knew it also. She was just trying to get him talking. Plus she had gotten Kalide to look it up before leaving. Always with the details.

"They know you're coming?" She asked.

"Nope."

"We going to sit here all night?"

"Thinking about it."

The front door opened. A woman stood in the doorway. David recognized her immediately. Stephanie!

"Fuck, I can't," he half said to Poison, more so to himself.

"Well I can. I have to pee," Poison said and got out of the passenger's side before he had a chance to say anything or stall her.

She was out. He was committed now.

Poison walked up the front steps onto the porch that ran the full length of the front of the house.

The women at the door embraced her, whispering in her ear. "Lea, thanks for calling."

"Nice to meet you, Stephanie," Lea pulled apart from the short hug. "I'd love it if you could direct me to the bathroom."

"Hey," David, out of the car, caught Poison before she disappeared inside. "You two know each other?"

"Just met," his sister called out to him. "You going to stay a stranger, or are you coming in?"

After everything he had been through, everything in his life he had experienced and endured, he had never felt more frightened that at this moment. He expected rejection when he finally knew he wanted acceptance.

Up onto the front porch he stepped into his old life.

"It's been a while," Stephanie said to him as she reached out and pulled him close. "It's good to see you little brother."

Shaking with emotion, opening his heart, he held her tight. "It's good to be here."

"I missed you," she said. "I don't want to miss you anymore."

"Won't happen again."

The sister led him by the hand inside the house. "Dinner's almost ready, I'm setting things up in the dining room, why don't you go get mom, she's up in her room."

David made his way upstairs towards the bedrooms. The ghostly memories of the past haunting every step. But he had to do this. It was why he came. He had to apologize, and see if they would accept him back into their lives, now that he had realized how much he wanted to live.

He knocked on the door while gently pushing the door inwards. "Mom?"

"You made it. I was worried you wouldn't." There she was sitting in a chair by the large bay window of her room, looking out to the distant ocean where the moonlight danced across the ripples of the water. Beautiful, like she had been trapped in the photograph of his memory she had not changed a bit.

"You were expecting me...how?" He had an idea.

"A little bird sent wind that you may be dropping by, but that's not important. You're here now, that is all that matters."

The son ran to his mother, embracing her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left, that I disappeared. I was scared and hiding. I broke our bond."

She pushed him back so she could see his face. "Our bond, our family trinity, a bond like ours may be strained at times, but never broken. We are too resilient the three of us. You hid and we let you go. We figured there was a reason, but we won't let go anymore."

"I came because I needed to apologize, because I need you to know why."

"You don't have to explain anything to me," his mother gave him a consoling smile. "You don't have to apologize to me. You are my son. From the day you were born I knew you were special. I knew it. I need to tell you something, something I should have shared with you ages ago, especially after that fateful day. You had this secret to burden, but I knew."

David's mother looked out her window again, seeing the beach and searching through the sands of time. "I was just seven months pregnant with you, and your father did what he did. He hurt me bad, and I remember going to the bathroom and there was blood and I was certain my water broke, I screamed for help, to be taken to the hospital, but I was ignored and alone. I was certain you were coming out premature, and if you were coming out the only thing I could think of was to climb in the tub. I layed in that tub for eight hours. Eight hours I lay in that tub with cold water surrounding me, keeping me conscious. For eight hours I prayed to god not to take my baby away from me. I prayed and prayed. Exactly two months from that day I went into labour and you were born. My beautiful baby. You should have died that night, but a miracle kept you alive inside of me. I knew it then, why I was enduring such a hell of a life. You were a gift from god. She trailed off in reflection. My gift from god."

She looked back at her son, tears glistening in her eyes. "I am your mother. There is never a sin of the past that I can't forgive."

They were called down to dinner. The four of them sat at the table erasing the time apart, reminiscing over the good stuff, and shutting the vault on the bad, whisking away the night with their laughter, stories, and words of love.

The next morning, David woke and followed the scent of fresh coffee into the kitchen. Stephanie was there, leaning against the counter, nursing a mug.

"Good morning," David said.

"Good morning, coffee?" She motioned her cup to accentuate the question.

"No, thanks. Have you seen Lea? She was gone when I woke."

"She's out jogging. Said she was letting you rest. Jogging that early is a bit much for me, I'm more of a coffee and paper kind of girl. She's a bit of a machine isn't she?"

"You have no idea."

"Walk with me?" Stephanie requested and led him out the back door, down the walk towards the ocean.

David tilted his head back as he walked, feeling the breeze blow in from the surf. "The ocean air. I missed that smell."

They arrived at their old spot along the boulders that created a border before the sand.

"We've spent some days sitting on these rocks," David said as the waves rolled in the memories.

"Our safe spot," Stephanie stared out over the surf.

"Have you been safe here?" He looked at her. She knew what he meant.

"They left that day. Neither of them has ever been back. Gone."

"Good. I'm not sure if I could live with myself if they had. If I had left you vulnerable."

"Do me a favour? Stop holding onto the past. Stop living in this well of regret. We survived. We're okay, and you are here now. Every day is new."

In the distance they could see Lea jogging along the beach towards them.

"That woman," Stephanie nodded in Lea's direction. "I watched you too last night while we were talking. I can see you resisting her. I can feel you love her, but you're still keeping yourself alienated. Love her, David, and let her love you. You need someone. You need somebody to keep your feet on the ground. Open your heart to her and really let someone in for a change. Mom and I are not going to be here forever."

"That is what scared me. That's why I ran."

"I'll stay with you here," she tapped his chest where his heart resided. "Just don't forget me."

"Not for all my enduring years."

Poison arrived, sweating and panting. "I could get used to this."

"Well you can stay as long as you like, Mom and I enjoy the company," Stephanie smiled at her before turning to return to the house leaving David and Lea alone.

"So what's next?" Poison looked at him.

He placed his hand in hers. Fingers intertwined, he looked into her eyes. "We mourn our losses, and then we continue. We continue the fight. Wilson had files, there are others. We continue."

Poison nodded. "I still can't believe we lost Wilson. I can't get over it."

"I know, he was like a father to me," David said.

There was a long pause as Poison stared out over the rolling surf before she admitted flatly. "He was my father."

David was taken aback by this revelation. He had not seen her shed a single tear over the death of the man she was claiming to be her father. He was stunned with surprise. "I never would have imagined."

"Neither would I," she returned with a look into his eyes.

There was a story there, a past, but her body language told him it was something to be shared another day.

He didn't push the subject; instead he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. There had been enough hurting lately.

If they only knew what was to come.
EPILOGUE

Somewhere, out there, a government installation that was off the books. For all intents and purpose it only existed in covert shadows.

Kalide sat at a small table with two other men. Large, wall mounted screens displayed a live feed of an insurgency into an enemy camp somewhere in Africa.

One of the men was older, thin, greyed hair and dressed in an expensive black suit to match his black eyes.

The other was a cyborg, like Kalide himself, but a newer model.

Kalide rolled two vials of blood onto the table. "Have you ever heard of the Liegelord?"

"Rumours and whispers," the older one replied.

"David was captured. You'll still be able to have your machines. The healing attributes will keep the flesh bonded. Those vials contain the changed DNA, but you are going to have to change the program."

"Now is not the time to suffer delays."

Kalide stood up. "I know, but you can't dictate fate, Adam!"

