Friday, October 6, 2000.

"I'm sorry Ms. Steiner. I'm sure you understand our position. We wish you the best of luck in your career and future endeavors, and hope that you persevere. The nation needs young woman like you."

Sarah nodded mutely, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "Uh-huh," she finally managed.

A few minutes later she was walking down the broad, marbled steps of the U.N. building, still stinging slightly from being turned down flat by the Protectorate. Why was she surprised? Had she really thought it would be as easy as waltzing in and asking for a job? No, she hadn't. But deep down, she'll allowed herself to hope. Why? Because she'd helped Zodiac fight some of the Royal Elite, and because Tommy Champion had lifted her up -- he'd given her a little
more faith in herself than she'd had before, and that had a allowed a glimmer of hope to grow into something more.

Straightening the short-but-professional business skirt she'd so painstakingly picked out, the young blonde moved into the throngs of people that covered New York's sidewalks at mid-day. As tall as she was, as beautiful, it was still possible to get lost in the crowd as she walked. Sometimes she liked the city.

What she liked more was that she'd come to the meeting today alone, without her mother or agent. She'd been making strides towards being more independent, and had insisted on going alone. She'd need to hail a cab to get home, but Paula had showed her how easily a woman with legs like Sarah had could get a taxi. For now, though, she walked, alone with her thoughts, content to mull over what the Protectorate's decision would mean for her career as a
superheroine, and for her life.

Stopping at a payphone, Sarah bit her lip for a moment as she dug through her purse in search of her credit card and address book. Finding them, she dialed a long-distance number and waited as it rang several times before a machine picked up.

"Hi Tommy, it's Sarah -- you know, uh, Knock-out. Well, I guess the Protectorate doesn't need me as a new recruit. I'll... talk to you later."

Hanging up the receiver, Sarah wrinkled her nose. She had hoped to talk to Tommy, not leave a dorky message. Resuming her trek, she started to think of the other thing she should have told Tommy -- the stuff she'd found out about the powered-armored thieves plaguing Los Angeles. She didn't know much, really -- just that some of them were ex-military types. Green Berets, Rangers and whatnot. Next time she talked to Tommy in person, she'd be sure to mention it.

Like next week. That's when Sarah was due back in L.A. for more auditioning with the film studio. Though she hadn't really liked L.A., the heroine was anxious to return. After all, that's where she'd met Tommy Champion, the man who'd been on the girl's mind more than she was willing to admit. Also, it had been less than two weeks since her defeat at the hands of the armored jewel thieves. If she ran across them again, this time Knock-out would be ready.
She'd been caught flat-footed the first time, a little tipsy, without her titanium knuckles and without proper attire. A little embarrassed about the whole thing, she'd taken matters into her own hands.

No more recreational drinking or drugs. She'd need to be sharp; she never knew when someone would need her help. She'd also decided to carry her knuckle-guards at all times. At the moment they were in her handbag. Finally, she worked with the tailor who designed her costume and came up with what Sarah thought was an ingenious response to the final problem -- her modesty. While Sarah's body was super-tough, her clothing, excepting her costume, wasn't. So
when she found herself on the business end of the troopers' energy weapons while wearing a dress, she ended up spending as much time protecting her near-nakedness as she did fighting the bad guys. The solution?

Kevlar undies.

Well, not quite Kevlar, but something similar. Underneath her business suit, the panties and bra Sarah wore were nearly as tough as her red and white Knock-out costume. And they were still
comfortable and supportive, which was extremely important to the girl for obvious reasons. Making all of Sarah's clothing out of the high-tech fabric would have been prohibitively expensive, but the small amount of material in her underwear was more manageable.

Smiling as she thought of her new, bullet-proof skivvies, Sarah flagged down a cab and headed for home.

"So they did offer to let you train with them? And said that you might even eventually become a reserve member?"

Sarah chewed and swallowed a piece of the Mediterranean pizza she and Mark were sharing, then slurped her water. She was becoming more comfortable with the likable young man all the time. She'd been fighting feelings of guilt lately, since she wasn't sure how to handle Mark's romantic interest. He already felt like a good, close friend -- but she could never get the barrier between them out of her mind. Her strength. If things heated up sexually, Sarah was now -- thanks to her adventures with Tommy Champion -- quite sure she'd hurt anyone who didn't possess at least marginal super-strength. Those same adventures, of course, were adding to her
feelings of confusion and discomfort. Was her fling with Tommy only that, or had they shared some kind of special chemistry? It had been the best sex of Sarah's life, and while she wasn't terribly experienced, it had been fairly mind-blowing in its intensity. She had no real way of knowing if Tommy felt the same way.

"Uh, Sarah?" Mark raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry," Sarah returned, shaking away her confused thoughts. "Good pizza."

"Yeah. So--"

"Yup, they offered to let me train, and sort of hinted that I might get reserve status if I do well. Kinda cool."

Mark nodded. "Hell yeah. So you're not really all that disappointed that you didn't get the, uh, job or whatever?"

"Nah. I was at first. I mean, it's like any other kind of rejection -- it sucks. But I got over it. I'm young. It was pretty stupid of me to apply for a position before really proving myself." The
gorgeous young woman grinned. "And I blame mom for that."

"You seem to be slipping out from under her thumb a bit more lately... how's she taking it?"

"Okay. She's kind of pissed off a lot of the time, but she'll just have to learn to deal with it. If I'm going to do all this crazy stuff I've got to learn to do it on my own. I've got the powers, not mom."

Mark chomped down on a slice of pizza, then agreed. "I can see that. Some of the decisions you'll eventually have to make are going to be life or death for people, so you need to have
confidence in your decision-making ability."

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Sarah mused, "but you're right."

"With great power comes great res--"

"Hey!" Sarah interrupted with a raised index finder. "None of that. Finish your pizza, cuz the movie starts soon."

Los Angeles.

A huge umbrella shielding her flawless skin from the blazing rays of the noonday sun, Sarah ate her salad with great gusto. She'd been at the studio since early in the morning, attending meeting
after meeting, audition after audition, and was now sitting out in the outdoor café behind the studio lot, eating lunch with her mother.

Lili Steiner flipped through an issue of People magazine, frowning from time to time.

"What?" Sarah asked, crunching on a carrot. "Do I look fat?"

"In three of the pictures, yes," Lili responded caustically. Holding up the article, she added, "And you just look uncomfortable here. And in this one, where you're kissing that foul-mouthed
bastard Omega, he has his hands on your bottom."

Sarah sighed. "That's my lower back, mom, and Nada told Tommy to put his hands there. Anyway, I'd think you'd be happy about them, since the shoot was mostly your idea."

"Well," Lili pursed her lips, "the exposure is excellent. James told me that he's received all kinds of calls because of the spread. He's already got a few things lined up for when we get back
to New York."

"I've been wanting to tell you about that."

Lili's brow knit. "About what?"

"I'm not going straight back to New York. I'm flying into Philadelphia first."

"What?"

"I'm going to Philadelphia. You know those terrible murders at that hospital? The authorities think it might be a metahuman committing them. I've volunteered to help them with the investigation. Provide a little muscle, if they need it."

Lili was flabbergasted. "What?"

"You heard me, mom. I'll be in Philly for a week or so, helping the police and a paranormal detective by the name of Dr. Wight. Don't worry; I'll be fine. I've made all the arrangements. When I get back I'll get to whatever Mr. Raddison is lining up."

"Now you listen to me, you little--" Lili began before being interrupted by the sudden appearance of Blur, virtually out of thin air.

"Hey!" the super-teen beamed. "Sarah, you got the part! We're going to be working together!"

Getting up to hug the smaller girl, Sarah laughed out loud, hardly able to believe her ears. "Really?!"

"Yeah! We start shooting in a couple of months! It's going to be a blast -- a blast! Hey, easy with the merchandise there, toots..."

"Sorry," Sarah apologized, releasing her small-framed friend. "I'm just really excited!"

Blur nodded faster than the eye could follow. "Me too! Let's go see Mr. Tomlin and tell him you'll accept the part, then let's celebrate this afternoon!"

Sarah glanced at her still glowering mother and asked, "Coming mom? I got the role! Let's go sign on the dotted line..."

"You're not going to Philadelphia," Lili muttered darkly as she got to her feet.

Philadelphia.

"So," Sarah finished, shifting from one foot to the other slightly uncomfortably, "I'm not entirely sure how I can be of help, but I arranged with your captain that I'd offer my services for the week."

Detective David Casey smiled wryly at the blond bombshell. She'd arrived at the precinct an hour before, asking for Lieutenant Stamp, and had been in the waiting room ever since. Stamp was notorious for being late, and this morning was no exception. In any case, this girl was gorgeous, like a movie star. Casey had seen her on the news a few times, but up close her physique, her sheer presence was considerably more impressive than he would have guessed. Dressed in a blazer, silk blouse and modest, mid-length skirt, Sarah Steiner's professional (and slightly sexy, Casey had to admit) appearance was only slightly spoiled by the girl's nervous manner. Nothing serious -- she just seemed young. And, of course, she was.

"As long as it's free of charge, you won't get any complaints from us," Casey half-joked, trying to put the young woman a little more at ease.

Sarah laughed, but her face fell a little when a voice in the hallway called out, "Who'd complain having her around to look at? She's a hottie!"

"Officer Ricco," Detective Casey began, about to admonish the officer in the hall who'd obviously been listening at the detective's open door.

Sarah cut him off. "I'll handle this," she declared. Getting out of her seat, she walked into the hall and straight up to the offending policeman. He was tall, dark-skinned, handsome and smiling
confidently. "Officer Ricco, I presume?" she asked.

Ricco saluted. "Officer Joseph Ricco, ma'am. I've seen you in action, ma'am. You're very impressive."

Sarah almost smiled despite herself. Ricco had a certain charm in spite of being something of a pig. All the more reason to stick it to him. "Thank you, Officer Ricco. You don't have to address me as ma'am. Ms. Steiner will do, as will Knock-out when I'm in costume. And under no circumstances are you to call me a 'hottie.' Or a 'babe,' or any other mildly derogatory word." Arching an eyebrow, she looked the main straight in the eye unflinchingly. "I'm here to help catch a murderer, not waste time getting fallen over by you and your adolescent buddies. Are we clear on that?"

Ricco's smile disappeared. "Yes ma'am, er... Ms. Steiner. Crystal clear."

"What've you done to piss her off, Ricco?" a raspy woman's voice sounded over Sarah's shoulder. When the heroine turned, she found herself face to face with a slightly frumpy forty-something woman who was extending her hand.

"Jane Stamp, homicide. You must be Sarah Steiner."

"Yes," Sarah answered, taking the woman's hand. She had a strong, sure grip. "I'm here about the hospital murders -- we had a nine o'clock."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry I'm late -- traffic was a bitch this morning." Turning to Ricco, who had been standing silently by, Stamp waved him away. "Beat it, Joe. Find some other beautiful woman to hassle. See if Mills is back from vacation yet and go stick your tongue in her ear or something."

As Ricco left, Detective Stamp motioned for Sarah to head back into the office she shared with Detective Casey. Closing the door behind her, Stamp took her time in getting settled in behind her desk before returning her attention to her guest.

"So, Sarah -- what is it you do again?"

A little self-conscious of being the only one in the room standing, Sarah pulled a wooden chair over and sat down in it as she answered. "Uh... I'm kind of a super-heroine. You know, I fight
crime. We spoke on the phone..."

Stamp lit up a cigarette and waved dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, I know all that. Typical tights stuff. Put on a mask and kick 'supervillain' butt all over town, right? Nice gig if you can get it. But what do you do, exactly?"

"Actually, I don't wear a mask. I don't have a secret identity or whatever -- it's no secret that Sarah Steiner is Knock-out. And to answer your question, I've got some abilities in the superhuman range, like my strength and toughness, for example."

"So you're good at breaking things, and at having heavy things fall on you."

"Well, I suppose you could put it--"

"Sounds good to me. We can use your help."

"Yeah?" Sarah asked, a little surprised by the statement after Stamp's steady needling.

"Yeah. Let's get down to the crime scene. A colleague of yours should already be there."

"Dr. Wight?"

"Well, him too, but I'm talking about Permafrost. He's in town to lend a hand as well. Now come on Casey, get your ass out of that chair. We're going to the hospital."

"We've been over that scene a hundred times, Jane. What could we have missed?"

"You might be surprised. I've worked with Wight a couple of times before, and he's always been on the money. And if metahuman types are involved like Dr. Wight thinks, then it certainly won't hurt to have Knock-out and Permafrost along."

Casey got up, pulled on his jacket and joined the two women standing by the door. "True enough," he said simply, silently hoping the detectives wouldn't need super-powered help.

Sarah was an unpleasant shade of green as she shook Dr. Wight's good hand. The carnage inside the hospital was unspeakable, even without the bodies. Dried blood spatter and chalk outlines of the murderer's thoroughly dismembered victims left no doubt that something truly terrible had transpired at Jefferson Hospital. The smell was overwhelming, but Sarah managed to utter a greeting with one hand over her mouth.

"Hello, Doctor. I've read a lot about you, and am grateful to be given a chance to work with you."

Wight shook the girl's hand absently while pouring over the copious notes he'd taken since arriving at the scene. "Hm? Yes, yes, good to meet you too, my dear. We may have need for your physical talents should we track down the monstrous fiend who did this."

Fighting her lurching stomach, Sarah kept her hand over her mouth as the tall, well-built man standing beside the doctor extended his hand and smiled charmingly. "Hey Sarah, I'm John Wolfe -- Permafrost. I was in the area, and decided to see if I could offer the good doctor here some help in solving the case."

"Hi," Sarah responded quietly, shaking the man's hand. "I know one of your coworkers, Tommy Champion."

"Yeah," Wolfe said with a slight smile, "I heard about that."

The twinge in the man's eyes made Sarah pause and wonder what exactly he meant, but before she could ask him to clarify his statement, Dr. Wight moved towards a wall where the word "HACK" was spelled out in large, bloody letters. "Come on, everyone. I'll explain what there is to my theory so far..."

Following along behind the two detectives and the handsome Canadian hero, Sarah steeled herself for the terrible things she was about to see and hear about. This was harder than fighting
supervillains... but if she helped bring the killer to justice, it would all be worthwhile. The girl tried to keep that in mind as she bit back the bile that was threatening to rise in her throat.

Sarah spent the next few days with Dr. Wight, Permafrost and a bevy of detectives, investigating the crime scene in Philadelphia and one in Algonquit at a Sorority house where a similar tragedy had taken place. She found herself liking John Wolfe, but kept their relationship purely professional, turning the man down twice on offers of after-hours entertainment. The person who had really captured the girl's interest was Dr. Wight -- a strange looking man with a silver and iron hand who suffered from dwarfism, and who had a certain dry wit and fatherly manner Sarah felt drawn to. It was with him that she spent most of her time, and while she couldn't hope to understand a fraction of his hypotheses or eccentric ramblings, she spent several evenings with him discussing life's mysteries and other philosophical subjects.

They'd seen awful, revolting things at both murder scenes. The victims had suffered atrociously prior to being slain, having been violated by the killer in obscene ways Sarah would have never dared imagine. She'd been having nightmares about the photographs she'd seen of mutilated, carved-up bodies, and by the time the group returned to Philadelphia, she'd had enough.

"So you're flying back to New York tomorrow, Sarah?" Dr. Wight asked, seated beside Sarah in the cab that was carrying them uptown.

"Yeah. I've got some other stuff on the go I need to attend to. But I'll be available whenever you've got a solid lead and need some help bringing this freak in."

Wight puffed on his ivory pipe. "Excellent. We may well need your services. Those rituals I performed at the sites have -- along with stringent deductive work, of course -- have me convinced that the two mass-murders are related. The police need a third event to categorize it as a 'serial killing,' but make no mistake -- there is a powerful and evil force at work here, and the authorities will have their third multiple-murder, and then some, unless we're able to discover the means, motive and whereabouts of the killer -- or killers, for I suspect there were two."

Sarah sighed. "I know how serious this all is, but can we talk about something less... horrible? I'm not used to seeing the kind of stuff we've been looking at over the past couple of days, and
it's really getting to me."

"As it should, my dear. These are things no man or woman should have to witness, much less endure. But if we don't take action, it will happen again. But on to happier topics. Where's our Mr. Wolfe this evening?"

"Downtown at a gala event or something. A fashion show, maybe? He was pretty excited about going. I think he sort of asked me to go with him, but the last thing I wanted to do tonight was get dressed up and hobnob with a bunch of high-society types I don't know. And my agent would have a fit if I put in a public appearance like that without having him arrange all the details."

"Your agent? Ah yes, I suppose a young lady with charms such as yours needs to have her public personae carefully managed. The media will print about anything, you know."

Sarah nodded. "No kidding. I've been pretty lucky so far -- no appearances in The Enquirer or anything. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"I'm sure it will," Wight replied drolly. "A similar magazine of ill-repute once reported that I was shrinking -- that in fact I was shrinking at a rate of one inch per week, and that I had a mere
matter of months to live before I winked out of existence."

As Sarah laughed, the cab driver pulled over to the curb of Delaware St., in front of the ritzy Italian restaurant where the pair had made reservations. "Here we go," he said gruffly. "That's
twenty-eight even."

Thumbing through his wallet, Wight grumbled something about 'highway robbery,' paid the cabbie and then escorted his leggy, much-taller companion into the restaurant.

Late October.
New York City.

Paula Glasse's expression said it all. "You're fucking joking, right?"

"It gets worse. A lot worse. When I got back to my hotel room, I found writing on the bathroom mirror -- in blood. It said, 'I know why you are here.' How creepy is that?"

"Oh my God, Sarah. You've got a fucking nutcase stalking you! A grade-A psychopath! Beating the crap out of costumed goofballs is one thing, but we're talking about a serial killer here. I read an article on those killings -- whoever did it totally mutilated and tortured those people..."

"I know. That's why it's important we find and stop him."

"What? What do you mean? You're not going back there?!"

Sarah moved over to the apartment window and surveyed the dark city skyline. "Not right away, no. But when Dr. Wight gets a good lead, I'm there. We might even be able to use me as bait or something, since we had that little run-in while we were in the taxi."

"Sarah!" Paula exclaimed. "This guy is a freak -- he's killed God-knows how many people... this is deadly serious shit, babe."

"I know it, Paula. I saw the murder scenes, and photographs of the victims. That's the whole point -- if we don't stop this maniac, he's going to keep killing people."

"I can't believe you're considering this."

Sarah shrugged. "Believe it."

An uncomfortable silence descended over the pair, over one of the few arguments they'd had since becoming friends. Paula fixed herself a martini in the kitchen, then plopped down on the sofa, behind where Sarah was still gazing out over the city.

"Did you at least see Tommy again when you were in L.A.? And did you find out about the part?" Paula offered, perhaps trying to ease the tension.

"I got the part. I didn't have time to see Tommy, though. More like he didn't have time to see me, I guess. He's a busy guy." I know what you're thinking, Sarah thought. Don't say it.

"Too busy to meet up with the super-powered girl he just screwed?"

"Paula," Sarah sighed, turning to face her friend. "Don't go there. Yes, Tommy probably just wanted to fuck me because I was there, I was available. I don't know yet. Let me handle it, okay?"

The brunette sniffed innocently. "Whatever. I didn't mean anything by that."

Sarah rolled her eyes and walked to the closet. "Right," she said, pulling on her leather jacket. "I'm going for a walk. I've got my keys."

Paula drained her drink. "Okay. I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."

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