The cement truck rose into the air three feet for a moment. The sound of stressed metal filled the air and then the truck lowered. The truck went up, then came down again.

Truck up, truck down.

Orchid approached the rising and falling truck in a cat-like skulk,her cape barely rushing the ground. She could now make out the form of Adam standing beside the cement truck.

Adam, she thought. Our first son. She half-closed her eyes. Whose son, she couldn't say. There was something of Hack in him, and something of Daxrathas as well.And just maybe, she prayed, something of Melvin.

Adam's form stood out under the bathing light of the abandoned parking lot. He stood six-foot-seven, almost as tall as Hack, but he had a slight hunch to his stance mostly due to the building supplies available at his creation. His long hair blew slightly in the night air, the silvery hair on top mingling with the black mane just below it. Adam reached out a disproportionately large left arm to steady the rising truck as his two right arms protruding from the same shoulder acted as a counterbalance. The only clothes he would wear were a bundle of rags on his feet secured with leather thongs, a ripped loincloth and a tool belt that held all manners of "surgical tools" -- tools as crude and unrefined as those used to create him. Orchid continued her approach.

The gravelly footsteps of Orchid's approach caught the attention of her patchwork son. Adam's head turned to see the approach of his Mother. He smiled at her approach, causing the stitches running from the right side of his mouth to strain up to his mid-cheek. His eyes, one ice blue and the other milky white, showed joy at her advancing form.

"Good evening, Adam," Orchid said with a faint smile on her blood-red lips.

"Evening, Mother," he replied in a voice that sounded of blood seeping from stitches in his throat that would never heal.

Orchid then addressed the rising and falling cement truck. "Hack?"

"Father says hello, Orchid," responded Adam in a gurgling voice.

The second-hand communication was unnerving. Orchid had known during the creation process that Hack and Adam would have some kind of bond born from Hack's blood, but this mental link was unexpected. There was a sting to it -- that Hack would communicate with his son, but not with her. There was fear underlying it as well. She could no longer hide from the realization that she was afraid of Hack. When he steeped himself in the bloodlust and revenge that animated him, he was beyond her reach. Would Adam act on Hack's impulses? If he did, what would happen to her? She bit her lip. With all that was happening now, it seemed that Hack needed Adam. The two were practically inseparable since Adam's creation. Hack even taught him how to walk. But under that bond was the threat of her own marginalization. What will my life be worth when they no longer have need of me?

"Mother?" The sound of that word snapped Orchid out of her thoughts.

"Yes Adam?" she replied.

"Father has decided on the final battle," the patchwork man replied.

The truck stopped rising as Hack slid out from under it. The veins in his arms were the size of garden hoses pumping with power after his set of bench presses. Hack stood beside Adam and stared at Orchid as golem continued.

"Father wishes to be done with Omega once and for all." Adams word's left his lips slowly but with grave intensity. "Father had Omega beaten until he was distracted by the harlot Knock-out. Father does not blame Omega for breaking his back. Father says it was his fault for being distracted! Father also says that it will not happen again." Adam's movements started to become animated, as if Hack's anger was seeping into him. "Omega and Knock-out were trying to put the little voice in control and almost did it," Adam said, clenching his oversized left fist. "For that Father says they must be made to pay."

Melvin, thought Orchid. And now Adam wants to destroy him as well. She bit her lip. Omega she wanted dead. She'd had enough of his suffering. He was too shallow even to suffer properly. His misery left her hollow and unsated. It was time for the brat to be destroyed. But for that death to come at the cost of Melvin -- it was a price she wasn't sure she wanted to pay.

But Melvin's dead already, prompted an oiled, insinuating voice from within. Daxrathas slid the words sinuously into her mind. What's left to destroy? It would be a mercy to him. Orchid shook off the suggestions with a scowl and focused on Adam as he began once more to speak.

"If Knock-out interferes, she will be given one chance to become one of us. If she refuses, we must kill her for her own good," Adam stated through pursed, dried lips.

"What are you saying?" asked Orchid. She felt a sudden fumbling, a sense of shock. Knock-out join us? Twenty years of humiliation, rage, and despair ignited in an instant. Knock-out was a bitch. She was a whore. She was a pretty, smirking, strutting little cow who needed to be destroyed. How could Melvin, how could even Hack expect her to accept the bitch joining them? Oh yes, she thought. Bring in the simpering, smirking little prom queen. And I wonder where Janey will fit into this plan.

Adam and Hack looked at each other at the same time. It was a sight that gave the her a bad feeling. Orchid knew that between the workout and talking about Omega, Hack had gotten himself and Adam worked up. This is when Hack was most dangerous. One wrong word and even she could be in a lot of trouble. But under her rigidly controlled exterior, she was seething with raw resentment.

"Tomorrow night Father will go to the Spectrum, where people will be watching wrestling. You, Mother, will go and tell Omega and Knock-out that they will meet you at the shipyard. Let them know that they will die or Father and you will die, there is no other option! And if they touch you, Father will kill everyone in the Spectrum!" Adam finished with a sweeping hand gesture.

Orchid swallowed against a softball-sized lump in her throat. Suddenly she looked forward in some strange way to talking face to face with them -- with the two who had everything while she lived in an abandoned asylum and feared death at the hands of her own son. Yes, she thought. This is right. The time is right. Let us make an end of it.

Before Orchid could say anything, Adam announced, "With the death of Omega, Father says we can start building our family."

"You mean building more... Beings?"

Orchid swallowed. She had acquiesced to Hack's plan to create Adam, hoping that somehow twisted beginnings might lead to a straight end. But with every step she'd mired herself deeper. There were hooks dug into her however she turned -- Hack, Daxrathas, Black Priest, and now Adam. Deep within her, something was sickening with the slaughter, with the senselessness of it -- and with the perpetual, grinding fear and loneliness of what life was left to her. A nice little family, is it? And I think I know who you see as the Mother, my dear Hack. I think I see now who it will be.

"Father wants to make people different, like us." Adam's tone was serious and deadly intent.

Orchid nodded, feeling the cold marble of the asylum's wall at her back. Adam's face darkened as he chanted the will of his Father.

"The weak will be killed and the strong will be remade."

"There is no way in Hades that a chainsaw can beat a good sword," Cavalier insisted loudly, tapping the hilt of his brand as he emphasized his point. "Just no way."

"Get with the times, pal," the short, muscular man with ruffled brown hair and beard stubble said, his rugged features twisted into a furrowed, mocking expression. But it was a friendly, fraternal expression.

"And what times are those, Catamount?" Cavalier asked, with his arms folded before his chest. He was a rangy, young man, with blond hair and a firm set to his mouth that at times made his teammate think of stern Presbyterian ministers.

Catamount stretched slightly -- the miles were long from Ottawa to Philadelphia, made longer from being crammed inside a small, uncomfortable plane -- and drank a shot of brandy as if it were whiskey. He frowned at the taste and wished that Dr. Wight's bar better reflected the tastes of the working class. "Modern times, Cav. We've been to Vancouver Island, like how many times? And we ain't never saw them chop down trees with a sword, y'know."

"Finesse, Catamount, finesse," Cavalier insisted, casually unsheathing his blade. The weapon drew from its scabbard like a song.He turned the blade to inspect it and let its blackness dully reflect the orange-yellow glow of Dr. Wight's huge Gothic fireplace. "Look at it." Catamount rolled his eyes. "There is magic in this steel. It's been wielded by three generations of superheroes--"

"Starting with the original Canadian Shield, leading the Princess Pats in the liberation of Holland back in '45." Catamount recited an often-heard quote in as bored a voice as possible. "But where was the sword at Dieppe?" Catamount shook his head, referring to the disastrous 1942 attempted landing that saw thousands of Canadian casualties. "Yeah, I know, don't diss the sword. It's a friggin' artifact of the Canadian Way, as sacred as the Last Spike of the CPR, or the sole surviving Avro Arrow prototype, or the last bottle of Sir John A. MacDonald's favorite brand of Scotch..."

"Your sarcasm's getting old," Cavalier said. "And your encyclopedist's account of this sword's history isn't even worthy of a Britannica thumbnail sketch. Anyways, as I was about to say, three generations of superheroes, and many generations of superheroes before them. True heroes have always prized finesse over brute force. The point is that the day I allow myself and this blade to be beaten by a second rate Yankee psychotic with a chainsaw is the day Canada adopts 'God Save The President' as its new national anthem." Cavalier was the latest incarnation of a long line of eternal heroes -- it was thought-provoking how often the heroic ideal was so commonly linked with local patriotism.

"Hey, Doc!" Catamount had had enough putting up with his comrade when he waxed poetic over his sword. "I hate to be a such poor guest, but your selection of beer, well, it bites."

"My apologies," Dr. Wight said with a sigh. He looked haggard after the completion of his spell, and entertaining guests could be more trying than facing even the nastiest supervillain. "I very much like German beer, but I didn't think to renew my stock. I don't often spend time in Philadelphia."

"You'll have to forgive my teammate, Professor Wight," Cavalier replied, giving Catamount a dirty look. "He's still not house-trained. We very much appreciate your hospitality and your assistance."

Catamount huffed, then added, "Now if only Omega were to show up on time. So, Doc, is Captain Endorsement for real?"

Cavalier gave Catamount another dirty look and sat down. Even he realized that Omega's fight with Sandstone should have settled that question beyond any doubt. But Catamount was a skeptic of the first order, especially when skepticism could lead to trouble.

"I'm not sure I understand your meaning," Dr. Wight answered. "For real? In what sense? He's certainly no fraud. I've seen his powers with my own eyes."

"No, no!" Catamount replied, impatiently. "What I mean to say is whether he can hold his own in a fight. I mean, he already ran away from these guys once. We've come too far just to watch him pick up his Nikes and hoof it back to L.A. at the first sign of trouble!"

"Well," Dr. Wight noted, "the last time I saw Mr. Champion, he had just finished two consecutive battles against opponents who would give anyone pause, and was drenched in more blood than you'd see in a dozen Hollywood horror pictures. I've been in this business for years, and I have never seen anything like it. And even after Omega had taken wounds sufficient to kill most metahumans ten times over, he still didn't take a backward step. Is he real?" Dr. Wight shook his head and pondered the word. "Good God. He may be too real."

"Mystics!" Catamount spat. "I don't mean to be a critic, Doc, but you guys really like to push the envelope when it comes to sounding menacing and ominous."

"I'm not pushing the envelope in any way, shape, or form." Dr. Wight turned on Catamount with a surprising intensity. "The envelope came to me, special delivery." He pulled out a silver inlaid pipe, fumbled with a pouch of tobacco and lit it. "I'm beginning to regret this whole affair. What began as a simple murder investigation that possibly involved metahumans has turned into a high drama involving Canadians, bikers, a man with a demon chainsaw, an out-of-control Nebraska farmboy who's the harbinger of the apocalypse, a model who's unsure whether she should be a superhero, a dead MNN reporter, and -- if I'm really unlucky -- the bloody Black Priest himself." The entire room shuddered. "And not only am I having to babysit the lot of you, I have to put myself into the line of fire against a pair of metahumans that have the power of a major demon behind them!"

"You could always quit," Cavalier suggested.

"Of course I can't quit," Dr. Wight replied. "If I could, I would have done so, and spared myself the embarrassment of whining about it."

"Did I miss anything?" Omega asked, coming through the door -- without opening it, or knocking. Cavalier and Catamount swallowed whatever they were about to say and turned to face the controversial hero.

The young Nebraska farmboy smiled at the two Canadians, seeing that they clearly were under cover, one wearing a long overcoat and the other a Western-style duster over top of their casual civilian clothes. "Well, nice trenchcoats," Omega said.

The Canadians inspected the young hero. Omega was a man who mugged people's senses: his too perfect hair, his teeth, the unblemished whiteness of his skin, the way their hearts skipped a beat when they noticed him, the appealing smirk on his tainted paladin face. The

Canadians had been briefed on him, they had even seen the effect on television. Often when you meet someone you've seen on the tube, they appear smaller, for real life cannot possibly provide a canvass as large or as intimate as the fantasy of the living room box. But Omega, contrary to all sense, appeared bigger in the flesh, a farmboy titan of expectations surpassed.

"I'm glad you like the apparel. I'm Cavalier." Cavalier extended his hand. He was expecting a smart-ass, insulting quip, but Omega simply took the hand and shook it firmly.

"Omega. Or Tom if you don't like codenames. Good to meet you, man. Welcome to the fight." He turned to his companion.

"Catamount, right?"

"Last time I checked." Catamount cocked an eyebrow.

"Where's Blockade?" Omega asked.

"He's taking care of business elsewhere," Cavalier said.

"Probably taking a steroid enema." Omega laughed, and then he noticed the look in Cavalier and Catamount's faces. Subconsciously, he expected a reaction. "Shit, I'm sorry. Controlling what comes out of my mouth is the one superpower I don't have."

"Try harder. I've known Blockade for years." Cavalier scowled. "He's saved my life on at least three occasions, and Catamount's at least twice. He's been a superhero for six years. You haven't even hit the six month mark yet."

"On the other hand, he's got a big mouth too," Catamount said.

"It's just that. 'He's a tough cookie, but all cookies crumble' -- my ass," Omega replied, recalling a public statement that Blockade had made months before.

"Huh?" Cavalier replied, not remembering the quote. Catamount just laughed.

"Yeah, I remember that interview," the catlike vigilante said with a grin. "We were facing down this ring of avenging Punjabi demons who were stealing weapons from the Canadian army and smuggling them back to India. We barely managed to stop them, we landed back in Vancouver and as soon as we touched down, some American goofball from MNN stuck a microphone in our faces and asked us some tabloid crap about what we thought about you. Man, we were pissed."

"I remember that now!" Cavalier said. "Wasn't that the day when we'd spent six hours in that death trap, in the middle of pouring rain?"

"And it never stopped." Catamount moaned. He flung his arms to express his frustration. "Omega, there's one thing you gotta know about Blockade. I love him like a brother, but man, just like the rain on Vancouver Island, he doesn't know how to stop. Being around him is like being forced to watch the WWF for ten straight hours."

"Without bathroom breaks," Omega said.

"Exactly," Catamount affirmed.

"Apology accepted," Cavalier sighed. "Let's move on. I heard you were in Ireland. What's the situation?"

"I think there might be a word in the English language to describe how fucking bad it is, but I sure don't know it. It's unbelievable," Omega replied. He gathered the heroes around a table and projected an image of the ruined towns. "Death camps, forced mutation, mind control of all metas, a communications blackout of all areas."

"My God," Catamount muttered breathlessly, scanning the ruined tableau.

"And they call me an animal."

"This is what happens when the bad guys win," Cavalier added grimly.

"All those people. All that damage."

"And I haven't even seen Dublin yet," Omega added.

"Nukes in tights." Catamount struggled to fathom the scale of what had happened. "They're bloody nukes in tights."

"We know some of this," Dr. Wight interrupted, still taking puffs on his pipe, leaving a trail of smoke rings that hurt Catamount's eyes. "President Clinton made a special broadcast two hours ago to inform the public. The armed forces are mobilizing, and there's some talk of pardoning the most stable supervillains if they'll fight against the Royal Elite. It looks like we're going to war."

"Good," Omega said. "Because as soon as we've dealt with Hack and Orchid, I'm heading back." Omega did not mention anything about the trouble he had endured in Ireland, his encounter with Red Lion, or his crisis of faith in his powers. He had flown back to Nebraska, and worked on the farm for a day. The farm was vacant, except for his friend Steve Doerksen. A long talk had worked out some of the problems: Steve was annoying, but yesterday he had been a veritable chiropractor for his soul. But it still left two very large problems to deal with.

"Excuse me, Omega, but I've heard this woman referred to as 'Slash' and as 'Orchid.' Which is it?" Cavalier asked.

"Well, judging from the passive-aggressive hint she gave me back in Los Angeles, it's Orchid," Omega said. "Not someone you want to take to the movies. She's a heavy-duty psionic, with some sort of ability to drain the human will. She also teleports. And judging by the way she ripped apart Rachel, she's got strength that's well into the superhuman."

"And Hack?" Catamount asks.

"He's got superhuman strength and that chainsaw can cut through my skin with ease -- and I bounce spent uranium rounds like tennis balls. And he teleports too. And then there's his chainsaw -- when he revs Big Bad Momma, it tends to disorient people. I think it's psionic. Uh -- Hi Sarah!"

Knock-out, the young, beautiful blonde metahuman who'd been working with Dr. Wight on the Orchid/Hack case for the past few weeks, had appeared in the study's doorway, her long hair swept down her back and her cheeks reddened from the cold air outside the brownstone. Her bright blue eyes moved from man to man in the room, and she offered up a simple "Hi."

Dr. Wight gestured at the newcomers to his abode. "Sarah, you already know Omega. These other two gentleman are Cavalier and Catamount, of the Canadian Shield. They're here to help with the case."

Cavalier extended his hand first. "Charmed. Knock-out, right?"

Sarah took the swordsman's hand and shook it firmly. "Sometimes. Usually I'm just Sarah Steiner. Like right now."

Catamount arched an eyebrow and shook the girl's hand when she'd released Cavalier's. He was impressed with her grip. "Good to meet you, Sarah," he said, looking straight into her eyes.

Steiner didn't blink. Instead, she shifted her gaze over towards Tom Champion. "Tommy," she said with a slight smirk, nodding in his direction. "I'm glad to see you made it back in one piece from Ireland."

"Yeah," Champion answered, not willing to get into details in front of the two Canadian Shield members.

"Is it as bad as it looked?"

For a brief moment, Omega was speechless. He nodded, his face showing a haggard numbness that she had never seen before.

Catamount, his arms crossed in front of his chest, cut Sarah off as she was about to ask about specifics. "First things first. We can all lend a hand in Ireland after dealing with these two nut-balls who kidnapped Permafrost."

Dr. Wight agreed. "Yes, the time has indeed come to resolve this business. Tommy, why don't you brief us on what you know about their tactics, and then I'll fill you in on the metaphysical end of th--" Wight paused with a start. "Oh dear," he finally said in a rather small voice, as he looked past the team of metas.

Cavalier leapt to his feet, drawing his sword, and Knock-out stumbled back slightly. But almost before they could react, the lithe, dark form was among them, emerging from a shadowy corner of the room in a blast of icy wind. A bass rumble of power shook through the floor, drawing roiling black clouds inwards in a freezing rush that shot into the black-clad form. Through the sea-tide of power flowing into her, she laughed.

Tommy stood with his arms folded in front of him, trying his best to look nonchalant. "Well, well, if it isn't the Wicked Bitch of the Dead?" he sneered, his snarl suggesting even deeper levels of hatred submerged barely below his conscious demeanor. Something was wrong, though. He could feel it. Cavalier and Catamount were hesitating at the edge of his vision, and even Sarah looked nonplussed. He glared at Orchid, but couldn't repress a gut-level creeping, crawling, slithering feeling. She was a vampire; she was the fucking undead. For the first time, the unspoken doubt came to the surface: what if she couldn't be killed?

"Sell-out crowd," said Orchid. Tommy blinked at the non sequitur and glanced around at his companions. "The WWF sure does pack them in. But then you'd know about that, wouldn't you, Tommy?" Her voice was a poisonous purr, but he forced himself not to jump her. Not yet. She was playing one more damned game with him and he wanted to know what it was. "Wraaaasslin'.” She sneered the word, rolling it around her tongue. “You know. Boys in tights, thinly veiled homoeroticism, a little boy-on-boy bonding. I'm sure you're familiar with all that sort of thing."

"Yeah, I know all about people who actually care about each other and like to have fun, though it's too bad that you fucking don't," Omega snapped back. "So you got a point, or are we going to have to wait for five fucking minutes while you star in your own personal drama?" Tommy's voice was hoarse and rasping. "You know, Deranged of Our Lives sponsored by 1-800-Florist and Home Fucking Hardware?"

Orchid glanced around the room, sizing up the others. Cavalier and Catamount still hung back, but Knock-out seemed to have pulled herself together. Dr. Wight, small and looking rather nervous, hung near the back.

"The point, Tommy," she said with a sneer, "is that we've got an invitation for you and your little cabal." Orchid let adrenalin and hatred drive her on, trying not to look as defensive as she felt. The huge sword left little doubt in her mind about Cavalier's identity, and she was pretty sure that that was Catamount with him. The reinforcements had arrived, and not where she'd hoped they would. "And just to make sure that you don't shoot the messenger, dear Hack is off in the Spectrum enjoying a sell-out crowd for the WWF. I'm sure that we wouldn't want anything to happen to all of those nice people.” She paused to smirk and continued in a mock-innocent tone. “You know, I hear that wrestling is quite popular with children these days."

Sarah stepped forward, looking Orchid straight in the eye. "You don't need to convince us," she said, quietly but firmly. "We already know that you're a bitter and evil person."

For the barest instant, Orchid looked stunned, as if she'd just been slapped. Then she darted forward and lashed out at Sarah, who stepped smartly back as Tommy leapt up from his chair. "Oh, don't worry, Barbie," Orchid snarled, struggling to regain her composure. "You'll get yours." She rounded on Omega. "As for you, you corn-fed, hog-swilling, shit-kicking little wonderboy -- this is our offer. You meet us down at the docks. We all go in, and one side comes out. Take it or leave it. You can fight us, or you can give us that much more time to look for your family."

Tommy flexed his hands as if crushing an imaginary throat. "What makes you think I'm stupid enough to walk into another of your lame attempts at a trap?"

"The fact that you've walked into every other one we've set," she snapped back. "Let's do the math, Tommy, shall we? You're down a Nike contract, a partner, and an ex-girlfriend. What have we lost? Hell, who knows. Maybe once we're done with you we'll take the President up on his offer and make heroes out of ourselves."

Cavalier rumbled into life. "Lady, I've seen travesties of all that's good in the world, but you take the cake. You'll never be anything but twisted, black, and vile."

"Then you'd better come deal with us, Mighty Hero," she sneered. Fixing Tommy with a spiteful glare, she spat out her challenge. "The docks. Tonight. We'll see what you're made of. And leave your little friends to watch the falls."

An instant later she was gone, leaving behind the sheer weight of her threat.

"Well," Dr. Wight said in a voice as sober as a cup of black tea. "She is a handful."

"She gives bitch slaps a good name." Omega frowned, shaking his head and staring at the carpet. "Sorry, she gets to me. Doc, where the fuck do we go from here?"

Dr. Wight raised his bushy eyebrows. "Good question. This afternoon, Sarah and I were able to divine the location of their lair. It's possible that Permafrost is being kept there."

Cavalier's grip on his sword tightened. "That's where we go first, then."

Sarah, a little shy about voicing her opinion around the other heroes, said, "What about the Spectrum? If we don't show up at the docks, Hack might go nuts on the crowd."

Wight agreed. "Right. I think it's best if we split up. We need to meet this challenge at the docks head-on, but it makes good sense for us to check out their hideout while they're not expecting it. Hmm. Sarah and I will investigate the asylum -- you three proceed to the dockyard." Before protests could be raised, he continued, "Gentlemen, I'm not trying to order anyone about -- I'm just trying to go about this sensibly. I expect the docks will be very much more dangerous than their lair at the moment, so it makes sense to send you three together. I'm confident that Sarah and I can handle anything we find at the asylum."

Catamount and Cavalier both nodded curtly.

"Fine. We have a plan," Tommy Champion stated. Looking at Sarah intensely, he added, "I won't die if you don't. Deal?"

The seriousness of the situation was really starting to sink in for the young heroine. "Deal," she said quietly. "Let's put an end to all this horribleness tonight, guys."

"Do be careful, Sarah."

Sarah, dressed in her Knock-out costume but wearing the stylish (and durable) jacket Alex had given her over top of it, nodded as she heard the doctor's whisper. The asylum -- Sunny Day, it used to be known as -- was one of the most frightening and creepy places the young woman had even seen. Dr. Wight had related an awful story about the place that involved some kind of evil villain known as Abattoir, and Sarah had been on edge from that point onward. The fact that the sun was now down and the welling shadows in the place seemed alive somehow only made matters worse. Much worse, actually.

Sarah had keen eyesight, but found herself straining in the dark just to see the floor in front of her to keep from tripping over the rubble that was strewn about. Long abandoned, the century-old asylum looked as though a wrecking crew had been working hard to demolish the place. Both Wight and Sarah knew the source of the fresh damage without having to converse about it: Hack.

If the upper levels had given Sarah goosebumps and made her heart race a solid ten beats faster, the feeling of terror increased threefold as the stealthy duo made their way into the bowels of the place. Winding down a spiral stone staircase, Sarah turned to look over her shoulder at the small form following behind her. "Is he still here?" she asked.

Wight raised his good hand, which he had clenched into a fist. It vibrated mightily but silently. "Yes," he answered. "The finder's gem I attuned to him is indicating that he's close by -- the Spectrum must have been a ruse. We may yet intercept him before he sets off for the dockyard."

Sarah wasn't quite sure how she felt about the news that Hack was probably lurking around some corner, but the thought fled her mind as she reached the bottom of the stairs and was instantly struck by a multi-ton slab of rock that fell soundlessly from the ceiling.

The hollow, thunderous sound reverberated throughout the building, and when the dust cleared Wight rushed down the last few steps to find his companion pinned beneath the stone, blood trickling down her temple. She was, he noted, quite conscious.

"Ouch," Sarah commented dryly.

"I take it from you tone that you are largely uninjured?" Wight asked.

With little effort, Sarah grunted softly, pushed the slab off of her, then got to her feet and brushed herself off. "Yeah, I'm all right. I guess that'll teach me to step a little more carefully."

Wight agreed. "Yes. It would seem our friends have booby-trapped the place. We'll have to exercise great caution, since I highly doubt this is the only trap."

Long minutes later, the pair, now wielding flashlights, had entered what looked to be some kind of lower chamber. They'd disarmed a half-dozen traps on the way down, and Sarah had scrapes and bruises from another three she'd blundered into and disarmed the hard way. She was in the process of freeing her leg from a massive bear-trap when her wizened companion caught her attention.

"Sarah, judging by the crystal, Hack is coming. Stand ready!"

"Father's not here." A deep voice resonated in the dark, far across the room. "And you shouldn't be either."

Shaking off the trap on her leg, Sarah aimed her light and peered at the shape that had appeared in the darkened doorway in front of her. Her flashlight's beam seemed to be waning and the figure was difficult to make out, but it was unquestionable massive. "Hack?" she asked, her breath catching in her throat.

"No, Father's not here," the voice stated again, a slight lisp now apparent.

Wight added his beam to Sarah's and narrowed his sharp eyes, trying to make out who it was that had addressed them. Both lights suddenly winked out and the pair heard the man step into the room, out of the shadows that had concealed him.

Sarah worked the switch on her flashlight furiously for a second, then accidentally crushed it in her grip. "Shit!" she whispered to herself, casting it aside. "Do you know any little spells that'll give us some light?" she asked the doctor.

"Yes, just give me a moment," Wight answered, fumbling about in his satchel, looking for what he needed by feel alone.

Sarah's response was cut off as an enormous hand closed around her throat and lifted her from the ground. The grip was supernaturally strong and, worse, as cold as ice. The stink of death and decay filled Sarah's mouth as she gasped for air, and she gagged and struggled as her captor spoke.

"You are Knock-out. Father likes you. Father would like you to join us. But Father is very angry about how you treated him last time, and doesn't understand why you've been hiding from him. If you do not join us, you will die. I will kill you now, and Father will be proud."

Sarah felt hands, too many hands, pawing at her body to prevent her struggles. When she felt each of her wrists captured vice-like grips, she knew things were going from bad to worse. They had to be facing more than one person.

"Ah," Dr. Wight noted happily to himself. "Just what the doctor ordered." Raising his hand to his lips, the spellcaster blew a handful of flower petals into the air, then spoke a single word of power. Each petal exploded with dazzling, golden light, chasing all but the most stubborn of shadows into the room's corners.

The visage Sarah found herself faced with was utterly terrifying, and she couldn't suppress a half-choked scream as she looked into the pale, unliving eyes of the thing that held her. It was huge, just shy of the seven-foot mark. Its nearly naked body was cris-crossed with scars and puffy, pinkish seams held together, from the look of it, by nothing more than thick, crude stitches and rusting metal staples. The patchwork being had three arms, the most massive of which held Sarah around the throat. Its hair was like a mane, running gray and black down over its muscular back. Around its waist it wore a loincloth and a belt from which hung all manner of dangerous-looking medical instruments.

Squinting at the sudden light, the creature drew his quarry closer, until Sarah could feel its fetid breath on her face. "Answer Adam, Knock-out. Will you join us?"

"Fascinating," Wight muttered to himself, sizing up the monster. "A golem of sorts. Are you familiar with Frankenstein's monster, Sarah?" he asked.

Sarah, red-faced from lack of air, broke free of the thing's grip and scrambled back a few steps, her eyes still wide with fear. "No way am I joining you," she cried. To Dr. Wight, she added, "And of course I've heard that story is that what this thing is?!"

"Adam is his parents' son," the monstrosity stated. His thick, waxy brow knit. "You have rejected Adam, and Adam's Father. For that you will die, Knock-out."

Seeing the thing move towards Sarah, Wight threw a hasty cantrip to help the girl fight her fear, then addressed the simulacrum directly. "Adam, are you sure that your Father would want you to hurt Knock-out? Aren't you making a mistake?"

Adam hesitated visibly and blinked his cloudy eyes a few times. "I am sure," he returned. "She has rejected us. She has been tainted, and must die. It is for the best."

"Wait!" Sarah shouted, holding up her hands to halt the advance of the three-armed thing. She'd had an idea. "What about Melvin?" she asked softly. "Is this what he wants as well? Does he know we can help him?"

His eyes flashing dangerously, Adam's expression changed to one of complete hatred. "Do not speak of him!" he growled, back-handing Knock-out with his largest arm and sending her sprawling. Lifting a giant chunk of stone debris from the floor, the angry creature hurled it directly at a surprised Dr. Wight. Diving for cover, Wight was too slow and was struck hard by the missile. Seeing that the little man wasn't moving, Adam turned his attention back to the girl he'd knocked down, who was now regaining her feet.

"Adam will deal with the tiny man later. First, Adam must make Knock-out pay for hurting Father."

"Pay for this," Knock-out snarled, her confidence bolstered by both her anger and Wight's magic. The fearsome, titanium-belted right cross she delivered sent Adam flying into the far wall, where he hit hard and slumped to the floor. Adam's head had turned around nearly completely on his shoulders, and he bled from a half-dozen places where stitches and staples had torn from the impact of the blow. Turning his head back around with a sickening crunch, he stood and faced his adversary.

Fists clenched, Sarah approached. "If you've killed Dr. Wight, you freak, I'm going to take you apart piece by piece..."

Now knowing that his opponent was considerably stronger, Adam changed tactics. As Knock-out came at him, he side-stepped and made the girl miss. Following through on her inaccurate punch, she stumbled and fell into the open pit Adam had maneuvered her towards.

"Ow!" Sarah called out of the pit, where she'd landed on a dozen sharpened iron spires. Most hadn't even marked the girl's super-tough skin, but they were painful nonetheless. The situation for her worsened when Adam touched a hidden switch and dropped a gigantic block of granite from the ceiling down into the pit. Watching the block fall in seeming slow-motion, Sarah felt the world go dark when the twenty-ton block struck her full-on, her and crushing the spikes beneath her against the bottom of the pit.

Omega flew over Philadelphia headed east to the Delaware River where he would soon find the Naval Shipyard and the answer to a thousand questions. He knew he couldn't arrive too quickly. Omega needed time to allow the two members of the Canadian Shield to get into position. As Tommy flew to his destination, he prepared himself mentally. "It's just another day. Another homicidal maniac. Another chance to moon Death in the face while he lowers his fucking scythe."

"Do you think it's going to be that easy, Chosen?" Fuck, Omega told himself. I'm hearing the Priest again. He should've known that his adversary would grab a ringside seat. I wonder what the popcorn's like in Hell, he thought, and then chastised himself for foolish thoughts. Pushing himself a little recklessly, before he knew it he was at the shipyard, probably a little too early for safety. "Better than having to listen to the fucking Priest," he told himself.

The shipyard was an area about a mile long by a quarter mile deep. Large naval gunships sat like dying old soldiers overlooking over an industrial nursing home. The layout was definitely not to Omega's advantage. There were currently 23 gunships docked here. Some were docked three deep. Interstate 95, possibly Philadelphia's largest roadway, sat along side of the shipyard on an elevated roadway, and if that wasn't bad enough, the Philadelphia International Airport was less than a mile and a half away. The shipyard was in the path of the landing and outgoing planes. This battlefield was strangely abandoned but still within arm's reach of some major points of activity. "A recipe for disaster, by the Iron Chef of Fucking Up," Omega told himself a low voice.

Omega saw his target standing by the water, waiting with a confidence that was unnerving. As he came to a slow landing fifty feet before Orchid, Tommy knew every minute he bought was to his advantage. It was dangerous to engage Orchid in conversation -- she was way too unstable -- but provided she thought her trap was secure, she probably wouldn't do anything rash. Indeed, in all likelihood, she wanted to hear some insults.

As Omega's feet silently and gracefully touched the ground, he addressed his adversary. "So you finally decided to grace me with your presence," he said, flashing his best lady-killer smile. "I am sooo honored."

Orchid stood in front of the river, near motionless. Her cape was blowing in the wind carried from the river, every line on her body hugged tightly by the leather outfit she wore. If it were not for the evil that rotted her from within Tommy might have found himself taken with her. But then, he thought, I'm way too much of a horndog for my own fucking good. And there was something strange about her reaction. The more he turned on the kilowatt smile, the more pissed off she looked. Good. He grinned broad.

"Humorous to the end, Mr. Champion?" Orchid replied. She crossed her arms over her chest. She looked pissed off. No, defensive. "And this is an end." Her eyes were very dark, and her tone was portentous -- almost theatrical, Omega thought.

"Fuck no. Haven't you realized that being a victim is a lifelong career?" Omega countered. "There's no end. No matter what happens, this ain't gonna be over. So who's next on your hit list, Orc? Did you once get dumped by a bodybuilder? Well, there's always Blockade. Hate religion? I hear there's an angel flying around Toronto. Maybe you think Gilgamesh started four thousand years of legendary male abuse, and we both know where that will lead you."

"This is the end, fratboy," Orchid spat. "I don't need armchair psychology from a textbook megalomaniac." She paused, struggling with something. I guess being a psycho is hard work, he thought. She continued, her voice quieter. "This is the end. One way or another."

She looked Tommy in the eye then, silently, and he had a strange feeling of confusion. She locked eyes with him for a long moment, as if forcing some submerged struggle of wills. A moment later she leaned forward, her composure broken in a strange, swift rush. She glanced over her shoulder, scanned the sky, and leaned forward to speak in a fierce, strained whisper. "Listen, quickly. There's an old church up over a bluff in Point Pleasant, looking down over the river. He's got Permafrost there, up in the rectory with--"

Orchid froze, looking behind him.

Tommy was puzzled at her actions for a split second until a feeling in the back of his neck warned him as a massive arm hooked around his neck from behind. The scars that criss-crossed the massive meaty appendage could only belong to one individual -- Hack! Vicious, pounding right jabs landed in Omega's right kidney, sending pain impulses shooting straight to his head. The pile-driving power behind any one of these shots would have sent a phone pole deep into the Earth. Omega gritted his teeth and fought to get loose.

"Isn't your back supposed to be broken?" Omega asked through gritted teeth between landed blows. Nah, it was as useless to talk to Hack in a fight as it was to play chess with his cousin Buck. Although it was what Orchid told him that really rattled him -- could the bitch actually be sincere?

After about the eighth or ninth shot Omega managed to break free from the grip Hack had on his neck. Tommy spun to face Hack. The Chosen almost forgot how massive and solid Hack was. Omega took a fighting position, ready to mix it up with the behemoth when he realized he had his back to the she-devil.

"The end," she whispered. Orchid extended both of her hands and let loose a blast of darkness rolling up from the depths of the void. The dark energy burned through her body and raced at Omega like metal to a magnet, striking him in the center of his back and propelling him into Hack, who met the young hero with a monstrous right to the chest. With a loud crack the energy dissipated, Hack flew backwards from the blast and Omega's stunned form was tossed forty yards into a supply truck.

The supply truck skidded fifteen feet and almost toppled before the bent machine came to a halt. Seconds later Omega struggled loose from the wreckage holding his chest and leaning on the truck as blood trickled from his lips.

"Not the end, not fucking yet!" he shouted. He swallowed the blood quickly and salved the wound with his tongue. "I ain't bleeding this time, Melvin," he said as he scanned the shipyard for his foes. "You do love the fucking cat and mouse game, don't you?" He wondered where the Canucks were.

"Yes, I do." Orchid's voice came from above and behind him. He didn't expect her to find him so quickly. Omega turned to see her standing atop the truck looking down at him. A black surge of power danced around her clenched right fist. "Good-bye, Tommy," Orchid murmured as she fired another bolt of blackness at Omega. Tommy dodged milliseconds before it hit. The maelstrom tore a hole deep into the pavement, sending gravel and stone flying in all directions and filling the area with the smell of burnt asphalt.

Tommy completed his defensive roll in a crouching position, then sprung at his foe with all the speed he could muster. She looked shocked, but he flew right through her. She was as insubstantial as a ghost. He was far quicker than she thought, but before his body could pass completely over the truck a large steel girder swung up from behind the truck, smashing Omega in the head totally unexpectedly.

TONG!

The sound rang out as the steel girder bent against Omega's skull. The stunned hero fell to the ground once again with the sound of breaking concrete.

"Hack! Stay on him! We can't let him get a moment to breathe!" Orchid barked. For an instant she felt a strange urge -- perhaps the stirring of pity. But she also remembered seeing Melvin lying on the ground in a broken heap because of Omega. She closed her eyes and drew in, feeling the strength and power flowing out of fallen superhero and into her body. Hack lifted the bent supply truck as Orchid leapt off. Holding the broken machine over his head, Hack stomped toward the dazed Omega who lay a short distance before him. The hero's eyes focused just in time to see Hack slamming the truck down on him. Omega's quick reflexes snapped into effect as he caught the truck on its downward path. The Chosen, lying on his back and holding the truck up by its front grill, found himself locked in a test of strength. Hack's muscles strained as he pushed down on the truck holding the undercarriage.

"So we like to play with trucks, do we, shit for brains?" Omega said in a voice that belied the seriousness of the situation.

Something was wrong; he could feel his stamina flowing out of his body in an unnatural rush, sucked away from him in a chilling current. He needed to get out of there fast. With a sweeping leg kick, the Nebraskan smacked Hack in the upper thigh. Hack's leg buckled, and then raw force hurled the mass of muscle to the ground ten feet away. Omega, wasting no time, got to his feet and charged at Hack, who was already getting up. Tommy could feel Orchid's presence behind him and mentally prepared for her next move. As he clashed with Hack, Tommy spun the large man and threw him in the direction of Orchid.

"A gift for you, bitch," he whispered.

Hack soared through the air and slammed into Orchid, who was preparing to fire off another blast of darkness. Startled, she threw wide, the energy hurtling through the night to slam into the radio mast of a nearby ship. She threw up her arms in an instinctive gesture, as if to catch the grotesque behemoth who hurtled at her. The two rolled on the ground for a moment, then came to a stop. Hack sat up first and helped Orchid up, and then he stood beside her. Omega took the brief moment to try and catch some breath after the non-stop pounding he just took. Resting his hands on his bent knees, Omega watched the two start to circle him from different directions.

"Tired already, Tommy?" Orchid hissed through a menacing sneer.

"Lady, I was tired of you before I goddamn met you," Tommy taunted back.

Orchid’s laughter had a vicious edge. "It's a pity that your Barbie doll isn't here to watch you squeal. Or do all your favorite prom queens look upon death with the same vacant, cow-like vapidity?"

Rachel. Having heard that, Omega lost all focus. He really didn't care where Hack was, he just wanted to hurt Orchid, to see her feel pain, to get one piece of satisfaction. Wheeling in flight, he charged toward what would have been her mid section, but Orchid pulled out the insubstantial card once again. But Tommy was prepared to play the game too. Becoming insubstantial himself, he managed to propel his mass into the ether, into a form that could hurt Orchid. Unfortunately, he didn't quite count on Orchid's agility; the vampiress caught her foe's transformation at the very last second, and half-panicking, she dove under the hero. Omega went flying through a warehouse, came out the other side, shot into the air, turned, and looked down on the two villains. He could only spot Orchid.

"You're always the tricky creature, aren't you, Tommy?" Orchid said, her eyes narrow with anger. He wasn't supposed to be able to do that. He was supposed to come and suffer, not threaten her.

"Pretty much -- Janey," Omega answered with a snarl. "Okay, Hack, you can jump me from behind yet again!"

Out of nowhere Hack landed on Omega's back and wrapped his legs around the hero's mid-section. Omega was expecting it, even prepared for it, but it's one to thing to be a smartass and expect Hack, another thing entirely to counter him. The monster was fast. Hack landed three quick punches to Omega's right ear from behind. Omega's balance was compromised but not for wrestling skill honed in over a hundred matches and dozens of fights against supervillains. Five hundred feet they plummeted, oblivious to the drop, throwing lefts and rights. It sounded like a pair of rifles firing at each other in rapid succession until the mortal foes splashed into the river

Orchid hissed, darted down from her perch, and scanned the water for them. It was hard not to be afraid for him, even knowing what he could do. "Melvin," she whispered herself.

"Lady!" Cavalier declared, hurtling over a pile of wooden pallets with a drawn sword and a vicious cut made the vampiress leap back. "Defend yourself!"

"You just couldn't do a straight ambush, could you Cav?" Catamount sighed, shaking his head.

Orchid spun with an angry snarl. "Stay out of this! It's not your concern."

"Au contraire, Elvira," Catamount responded in an insolent drawl. "You made it our concern when you dragged Permafrost into all of this. Can't wish us away now."

Orchid scowled. "Ask Omega, if he survives. You won't find Permafrost here, and you've got worse things than me to worry about. Or can't you frigging geniuses work out a chessboard?"

Cavalier merely stared at Orchid. His ingrained instincts, inherited from the sword's predecessors, warned him that the woman had dark, sorcerous blood pumping through her veins. Her words couldn't be trusted, so the swordsman saw no point on entertaining or even influencing her conniving diatribes.

But Catamount took up the slack. "Yeah, you mailed us a couple of chess pieces -- so what? They do us no good without a board and the other thirty pieces. Besides, I'm a checkers man, myself."

"White knight, black bishop. What did you want, the Priest on a silver platter? Or are you just here because I'm the only one you aren't afraid to face up to?" Orchid scrambled mentally for ammunition, trying to draw out the conversation. She drew in a deep breath, feeling their strength and power surging into her. She kept it flowing, feeling them growing weaker with the passing seconds. If only they would hold still long enough.

Catamount slapped his forehead, as much to clear it as in mocking rebuttal. "Silly me, I never saw those chess pieces as clues." The Canadian smiled. "So, we've got you all wrong, huh? The problem with the clue is that it came from you. I mean, just how stupid do you think us Canucks are? We've got security cam footage of you and your slasher film-nut friend ravaging a hospital, as well as press coverage of you two killing runway models and kidnapping Permafrost. Thanks for the clues, you hell-bent loon, but we'll stay here and test our luck against you."

Orchid growled in frustration. She’d risked her neck to give Permafrost a chance and these idiots had pissed it away. You see? chuckled Daxrathas. That is the nature of what they call good. Too busy judging to think. Too busy hating to save your lily-skinned little friend. She shook her head to clear it and snapped back at Catamount, her voice a mocking caricature of his accent. “Oh, ‘us Canooocks didn’ fall fer dat one?’ Nice deduction, Sherlock. Why don’t you carve it on his tombstone?”

"Enough!" barked Cavalier. A feebleness had surged over him, blearing his vision and loosening his grip on his weapon. Grimly he fought off Orchid's spell, and when he cleared his eyes, the vampiress smiled ever so slightly. Orchid's sultry but frightening swift approach forced him to throw up his guard.

And it was an act of defense, Cavalier realized in dazed awe as he closed with her. The cold steel of his sword flashed and darted with such speed and grace, yet the actions were only enough to keep Orchid from slashing him with her deadly nails. Clearly he was facing an opponent faster than himself. Strikes with the swiftness and grace of a panther continued to force him back.

"Uh, Cat," Cavalier stammered. "A little help here."

With a roar, Catamount sprung into action, closing the thirty-foot distance between himself and his friend in a single bound. He snarled at Orchid, revealing his oversized incisors, and with a flex of his hands, his sharpened fingernails sprouted into vicious claws.

Catamount smiled and took a small step toward Orchid. "Whatcha say -- hellcat versus wildcat?"

Orchid nodded, beginning to circle to her right.

Catamount turned to follow the she-devil's progress. He growled, his lips lifting to show his fangs once again. He watched as Orchid gathered herself, her legs stiffening. Then she pounced and aimed for Catamount's throat. Lithely, the Canadian wildman lunged to one side, out of the vampire’s path, and returned a smashing elbow into her face.

The hit threw Orchid back, crushing a crate to splinters by her fall, but before Catamount could take more than a step to follow up his strike she sprang to her feet. The two met face to snarling face and their clawed hands wove a deadly lace between them. Catamount poured all of his anger into his strikes, his speed surprising even Orchid. Abruptly a slicing swipe of his hand cut through flesh, but even as it did, Catamount jumped back too as a killer strike from Orchid's white hands grazed him.

Landing at the ready, Catamount felt the hairs on his neck stir. Orchid looked down at her wound, acknowledged the bloodless gash, and then smiled. Suddenly Orchid’s silence took an eerie quality. Then the murderous onslaught began all over again.

Catamount met each blinding attack, but his own were met as well. A lashing hand struck the side of the Canadian's temple with a force greater than he would have imagined possible, throwing him aside like a child. It was his turn to find himself on his back among the shattered wood, but before he could rise, Orchid was on him.

"I like it when a girl wants on top," Catamount quipped.

Snarling, Orchid struggled with her opponent's vise-like grip. Not only did she discover that he was quick on his feet; she quickly found out that he was strong too. They twisted and wrestled, and Orchid glared while Catamount smiled. Desperately she threw a fist that would have split a human's skull, but her target moved his head at the last moment and her hand smashed through debris.

"I'm going to wipe that smile off your face!" Orchid hissed, her gleaming fangs just hovering over the stocky Canadian. And that's when she noticed the reflection in corner of Catamount's eye.

Orchid quickly rolled as a blade cut through her midnight black cape, slicing a part of its fabric into ribbons and forcing her to jump back to avoid Cavalier's wrath. She was then thrown aside as Catamount kicked her off him so he could spring to his feet with his claws ready.

"The jig is up, deary," the swordsman said, his eyes as cold and steely as the mighty sword he wielded.

Cavalier charged, swinging the blade in intricate and frighteningly swift arabesques. Leaping aside, Orchid rolled, leapt to her feet, and shot her arms skyward. A massive clap of thunder and a burst of absolute blackness slammed through the shipyard, ringing battleships like broken gongs and rending the air with a smell of ozone. Cavalier staggered back, swinging wildly as he stumbled into a solid form. Catamount snarled and shoved his companion away, shaking his head as his eyes beat in a painful pulse. The ringing filled his ears like a pounding drum, and he heard nothing until he was slammed to the ground by a bolt of energy. Feeling the rising panic of a trapped wild thing, he lashed out wildly, harrowing the concrete with his claws as he sought his assailant.

Orchid panted, struggling to catch her breath. She crouched on the deck of the battleship, watching as below Cavalier and Catamount crawled helplessly on the dock, groping about in search of their enemy. She drew herself up and fired another bolt of nether power into Catamount, slamming him down into the deck again. He was slower to rise this time, and his movements were growing increasingly feeble. With a broad gesture and a nervous glance over her shoulder, she threw up a great dome of pitch blackness and moved in for the kill.

The surgeons were at it again. Poking, prodding, touching, pressing. Cutting, lifting, slicing, peeling. Were they ever going to be finished with her? Would they even leave her alone?

"Adam thinks we'll use pieces of you to build our family."

How long were these treatments going to last?

"Father thinks you are pretty, so Adam will save your head."

How much what? "Save your head?" Sarah's eyes blinked open. She wasn't on an operating table in California. Her lips weren't sore from collagen injections, and she wasn't having each and every tooth capped again. It was much worse. Adam stood over her with surgical tools in all three hands. He was preparing to operate.

"Jesus!" Sarah yelped, rolling off of the stone slab, easily bursting out of the chains that had held her down. One of Adam's scalpels drew a wicked red line across the girl's stomach, and she felt blood rush down her abdomen and legs as she stumbled away from the makeshift operating table. Holding the wound across her belly with one hand, the young heroine noticed the strange lines drawn on her body -- all in places Adam was preparing to cut. He'd marked her up like a piece of meat. Against the wall, Dr. Wight laid unconscious or dead, a dashed line around his forehead sure sign that Adam intended to remove the man's brain.

"This will be less painful if you aren't moving," Adam stated, apparently unaware of the black humor in his words. Regardless, Sarah wasn't laughing. She could feel rage surging in her chest. This thing was about to cut her into little pieces, and Dr. Wight was next. It was time to get serious.

Stepping into Adam's multi-bladed advance, Knock-out ignored the deep cut she received on her shoulder and drove her mailed fist into the monster's midsection with all her might. As Adam doubled over, many staples popped and flew while dozens of threads bit deeply, tearing and ripping their way through his clammy flesh.

Another blow to the body felled the man-thing entirely, but as Knock-out stepped back, hoping he wouldn't get up, Adam scuttled along the ground and through a dark doorway, out of sight.

"That thing is so creepy" Sarah said to herself. Her primary concern at the moment, however, was Dr. Wight. Kneeling by his side, the girl was relieved when she was able to revive him.

"Well, that was quite a nasty knock on the head," Wight groggily mused, getting to his feet.

"You sure you're all right?"

Wight surveyed the various wounds marking Sarah's body. "Better than you, it appears. Have you defeated the creature?"

Sarah shook her head and pointed. "No -- it took off through there, a minute or two ago. I think I hurt it, though."

Wight retrieved the gem he'd been using to track Hack from a pocket. It was vibrating furiously. He frowned. "We haven't been tracking Hack, I'm afraid. It would appear that Hack and our friend Adam share some kind of bond -- they may even, in a way, be father and son."

"So is Hack--"

"Very likely at the docks, with Orchid, fighting Omega and the others. We need to be quick about our business here, then lend a hand in that battle, I think."

Sarah nodded. "Okay. Let's take down this three-armed psycho, then get back to the docks. Tommy probably has all he can handle and more with those two."

Sarah stepped gingerly through the room, careful not to disturb the multitudes of bones -- human bones -- scattered all over the floor. There were loose bones, intricately piled bones, eerie bone effigies, writings in bones and all manner of personal items Sarah assumed once belonged to the unfortunate victims of Hack and Orchid. She was trying desperately not to look too hard.

"Adam -- I've decided you were right," the powerful metahuman shouted into the still, dank air. "I want to join you, to be with you and your father."

Silence.

"I'm accepting your father's offer, Adam."

Still nothing. Perhaps this "Adam" was smarter than he looked, Sarah thought.

Sarah's next call died on her lips when she recognized something across the room. Approaching a broken, fragmentary section of brick wall, she saw that it had come from the building Hack had thrown her cab into when she and Dr. Wight had first met. Sarah had used her body and strength to absorb and cushion the blow, and the impressions of her head, breasts and hands were still visible in the cracked brickwork.

A shiver ran up and down the young woman's spine as she began to appreciate the depth of Hack's obsession, and as she felt gooseflesh cover her body, Adam silently appeared behind her and captured her neck in a chokehold with his powerful left arm. His two right arms worked at subduing her struggles, and after a few seconds, the creature spoke, air whistling slightly between the separated stitches in its cheek.

"Harlot. Adam sees through your thin ploy. You will die at my hands, and I will dissect your body, keeping only the choicest parts."

"Charming," Sarah managed through gritted teeth. "Any time now, doctor!" she added, trying to look back over her shoulder for some sign of her ally.

A voice answered from the darkness. "Patience, my dear. You can't rush greatness. Nor an anti-animation spell. These things take time, like the best tea."

"Eh?" Adam grunted, turning his head to look for the stout wizard somewhere behind him.

"Goodnight, Adam," Wight spoke, stepping forward and casting a bit of sand into the air. When the grains fell, Adam stopped moving. Sarah slipped from the monster's grasp and turned to face him.

"Is he like, dead?"

Wight retrieved his pipe and started tamping tobacco into the bowl. "No. Nor truly alive, of course. But no, the effect is not permanent. I daresay he'll be immobile long enough for the authorities to get here, though -- and long enough for us to make our way to the docks, where I suspect the real battle is happening."

Sarah drew a deep breath and nodded her agreement. Anything would be better than the disturbing old asylum. She hoped.

Below the surface of the water, Omega and Hack clung to each other like barnacles. Tommy knew that he could breathe water, but he didn't know whether Hack could. They wrestled as they sank -- Hack's form, laced with muscle like a trowel-lain mortar, did not lend itself to swimming. Both of their blows were hindered by the dark, polluted waters, so they wrestled. It was painful, but when Tommy managed to straddle the horse-like muscle of Hack's back and tightened his grip, Hack vanished again.

Tommy expected Hack to reappear behind him, so he took it as a sign that he should find a better position. He did a blind teleport three meters behind him, and as he anticipated, Hack reappeared right in front of him, for the sneak attack. Tommy immediately clamped another grip around Hack's mountainous neck, and squeezed. Hack responded by teleporting once again. Tommy countered the move with his own teleport, but Hack had learned his lesson and teleported to the side, not in easy reach. Omega countered it with his own teleport, and so the pair played a cat and mouse game with each other in the water.

Orchid's boots struck the dock nearly silently. Her enemies fumbled nearby, their ears hearing only the thunderous ringing of the thunderblast. She eyed Cavalier with slitted eyes, then threw her hands forward. The bolt of black energy slammed into his chest, hurling him backwards off of the dock. He thrashed frantically in the water, struggling to find the shore through the blinding fog over his eyes.

Orchid stalked slowly toward Catamount. This, at last, felt good -- genuinely good. The deep darkness around her, the cool night air, the sight of her enemy groveling blind and helpless -- it fed something inside of her. She slunk closer, drawing in as she did, drawing strength and stamina from her enemy. She watched his struggles weaker as he lashed out, desperate to find the source of the attack. She drew in again, and slowly his struggles slowed and ceased.

"Don't fight it," seh murmured as she approached the feebly moving form. "It's so much easier that way." Stooping, she drew back the head of the bestial warrior and lowered her teeth to his neck. He struggled as her teeth bit in, but soon enough he was still, panting slowly, his chest shuddering in labored breathing as she drew in the sweet tang of his blood. It was powerful and incredibly rich. Her head swam with it. Pantomime's power had been there in the blood, but this this was power a hundred times greater. She hunched over him, clawing greedily for more. She felt the heart beat slower and heavier, moving toward that final slow flutter, but she couldn't stop herself. The power sang into her body in blind exultation.

Omega shot like a missile straight through the bottom of the dock, smashing it and sending the vampire and her victim flying in opposite directions. He was about to say something he hoped would be pithy, "the buffet is closed" or something similar, but the sight of the wound on Catamount's neck was too sobering.

"I was wrong about you, Orchid. You ain't a bitch," Omega said. "Bitches are strong. You're just a fucking parasite."

Orchid laughed bitterly, the snarling tones trailing off into near-hysterics. "I am a parasite? I am the parasite? Oh, that's laughable coming from Nike's little hothouse flower. I drink from one man, Omega. You suck the misery of the whole human race."

Omega shook his head. The psychotic bitch actually meant it. Worse, she actually had a legitimate point. But this was a head-fuck; he'd worry about it later, after the fight, if he survived. The Young Nebraskan crouched low, waiting as he caught his breath. He wanted her to make the next move; it would tell him that much more about her tactics, and he was ready for whatever she had to throw. "Come on, bitch," he said wearily. "You want an end, let's make an end."

She vanished.

Omega barely had time to curl his lip in a sneer at yet another cowardly duck-out when the claws sank into his back. They didn't just hit him, they hurt, and unhealthy green-yellow sparks flew from the point of contact. He spun and lashed out, catching Orchid on the cheek and slamming her back into a heap of crates. He staggered back, off balance and bleeding. He could feel the flesh pulling together where she'd hit him, sense the rush of power as his body countered the biting pain of the dark magic. There was something else, too, under the pain of the wound. He could feel his stamina take a hit, and that sucked hard.

Orchid laughed with a frantic edge of insanity. She drew her hand over her lips and cheek and held it up, staggering crazily as she faced him with a wild light in her eyes. "Can't draw blood, Tommy. What are you going to do with me now?"

Omega bit back the urge to spit at her. "There's enough blood on you, you sick bitch."

Her eyes lit with an unholy fire. "I told you," she rasped, baring her fanged teeth. "Don't. Call. Me. A. Bitch!" She lowered her hands, threw them together, and hurled another bolt of black energy at him. He dodged easily and ducked inside her guard, but she was damned fast and danced back. He paced after her, keeping steady and holding his balance. Every muscle in his body wanted to charge her and hammer her to paste, drive her sick, twisted influence out of the world. But he held his pace. For once, he thought, I'm gonna goddamn pace myself and get it right.

She backed before him, glancing nervously back over her shoulder as she slid stealthily into the darkness at the end of the dock. The boards were running out and so was her time. He watched her eyes close and saw the desperation there. Suddenly she reached up as if snatching a handful of the night sky and hurled it toward him. Blackness exploded over his eyes and smashed into his ears like a thunderclap.

And it was over. The blinding pain in his eyes and the deafening pounding in his ears faded and ceased in an instant, drawn back into that boundless inner energy that was starting to frighten even him. He glanced around to target her, then suddenly saw the moment and grabbed it. Clapping his hands to his eyes, he groaned and staggered back, glancing out between his fingers to see his antagonist smirk and slowly begin to approach. Good, bitch, he thought. Just a little closer. Come right in here.

The lithe, dark form slunk closer, padding across the dock as he pulled his hands away and stared wide-eyed to the side and beyond her. Dammit, it was hard not to look at her as she slid around the side to get at his back. But he held the act -- held it just long enough.

He caught her off-balance, shifting from one foot to the other as she cut around his side. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked down, throwing himself down with her in a move that was probably worthy of the WWF boys in the Spectrum. Her body barely had time to tense before her face slammed into the dock, propelled by all the force he could muster. She started to fight, then, but he was over and beyond it. He slammed her head into the dock again, and then again, like a bloody mantra. Somewhere in the back of his mind Rachel's face came to him. She was still long before he finished.

Catamount stirred, clutching his gut. Like Omega’s, his wounds stitched back together at an accelerated rate; even the fatigue that poisoned his muscles and mind faded as his hyper-regeneration worked through his body. The Canadian bent over the unconscious Orchid and clamped a series of silvery, runic bands around her wrists, neck and ankles. "Thank Blaze for these restraints. Even if she regains consciousness, it won't be easy for her to work her magic." He looked at the stunned hero. "Omega?"

"Sorry," Tommy Champion said, still looking intensely at Orchid. "This solution sucks, at least in the long term."

"You can't kill her," Catamount replied.

"That's not what I meant," Omega replied. "All those weeks of pain, and then I throw a few punches and it's over? It just doesn’t feel right. But I wouldn't kill her. If I do that, I go to prison, and that means all of her lies would come true. She'd win. Not to mention there's still a lot of work in Ireland to do.” He looked skyward. "There's just too much shit to--"

Catamount's head shifted, and Omega immediately noticed the look of concern etched on the Canadian's face. "Where's Cavalier?" he asked. The rugged man's nose flared and his ears twitched. "Shit. You keep your eyes on the tooth fairy here. If I'm not back in five," Catamount smiled, flaunting his clawed hands, "wait another five minutes."

Cavalier slowly walked through the darkened warehouse with his sword at the ready before him. He knew Hack was near; he could feel the tension in the air.

From his left he heard a loud whoosh! that grabbed the warrior's attention. A steel girder flew through the air at him with great speed. With the reflexes that come only with years of battle, Cavalier spun on his heels and held his mystical weapon before him in an upright position. The girder hit the sword and split into two long pieces that fell behind and to either side of the warrior.

Cavalier scanned the area for his opponent yet found nothing but large abandoned stacks of crates.

"Show yourself, Hack!" the leader of the Canadian Shield snarled from behind gritted teeth.

Cavalier quickly spun to face the opposite direction, expecting to see the giant ready to strike from behind. Nobody was there.

The ugly wail of a motor ripped through the silence of the warehouse like black shears through white satin. Instinctively Cavalier spun to meet the noise behind him with his weapon in a defensive guard. When the Chainsaw struck, the ancient sword held by the seasoned warrior it was like the purist forms of the forces of good and evil met for the first time. Brilliant bright sparks shot twenty feet as the demonic saw tried to eat its way through the sword's holy blade. Cavalier was not as prepared for the strength of Hack's blow as he thought, but he managed to hold his ground with little more than an audible grunt.

The combatants unlocked weapons after a short moment. Cavalier took the stance of a warrior prepared to meet any challenge with honor. Through force of habit, the swordsman preformed a quick sweeping exercise with the ancient blade as he readied himself for the next exchange.

Hack just waited, the whites of his eyes piercing through the darkened eyeholes of his goalie mask. He was easily twice the size of his opponent, and he stood slightly hunched, holding the massive Chainsaw in both hands, revving the phantom engine that spewed forth dark, noxious clouds. Every muscle in Hack's over-packed body was pumped to its capacity as he readied to take his next attack.

Hack lunged at Cavalier with a speed that was not expected of such an ogre of a man. The masked terror let loose a flurry of strong attacks that were almost blinding, but Cavalier was able to deflect every blow with the grace and swiftness of a well-seasoned fighter. With every blocked attack Hack moved closer, forcing Cavalier to retreat slightly for space.

Hack took wild swings that Cavalier could barely dodge, the vicious teeth of the Chainsaw chewing through steel railings and biting out massive chunks from the cement floor with each missing strike. For the most part the veteran warrior angled his blade to deflect the power behind Hack's frenzied attacks, but he could still feel the influence of the saw slowing down his thinking. Cavalier knew that if he was to have any chance of survival he would need to cripple the weapon.

"C'mon," the swordsman goaded. "Is that all you've got?"

The assault seemed endless to Cavalier, who had to defend against super-powered strike after strike as he looked for his opportunity. The warrior knew he couldn't lock up with Hack in a match of strength. He had to force the behemoth to meet him on his terms, but what Hack lacked in finesse and skill he more than made up for with brute force and tenacity. There was a roar and a battle-cry, as the ghostly machine fought along the great sword's adamantine blade. The clashing weapons lit the warehouse with a strobe effect.

Then it happened. Cavalier saw a fleeting opportunity. With a master's precision, he hooked his blade with Hack's weapon and preformed a classic disarming maneuver, sending the Chainsaw somersaulting away.

Hack turned his head to watch his weapon scream off into some debris when the cold steel of reality forced him to turn his attention back to Cavalier. The warrior that stood before him had plunged his sword deep into Hack's stomach. The giant held the blade with both hands as his eyes locked with the man holding the hilt.

"It's over, Hack," stated Cavalier in a voice that carried like a thunderclap. "It doesn't have to end this way."

Hack reached out and grabbed the warrior by the shoulders and pulled him inward, further impaling himself on the ancient weapon and causing the tip of the blade to puncture through his back. When Hack was up to the horrified and stunned hero, he proceeded to head butt the warrior in the face three times before letting the wounded man fall before him. Cavalier winced, holding his face, as his busted nose pumped out crimson.

Hack loomed over the stunned hero. He grabbed the sword with the intention of removing it when suddenly a roaring holler erupted from Hack's left.

"Stay down, Cav!" Catamount belted. "I'll handle this hockey goon."

Catamount was known as a wildman, but this was too much even for him. He pounced from a tall stack of boxes and landed both feet on Hack's forearms. With blistering reflexes, the savage fighter ran his razor-sharp claws across Hack's exposed chest six or seven times, then leapt over the hulking monster's head, pivoting off the sword tip still jutting out of his back, and then backflipped, end over end, onto another pile of boxes.

Upon landing in a crouched position, Catamount sneered at Hack. "It's you and me now, cutthroat," he said in his usual hard-assed manner. But under the taunt, there was a ragged edge. Hack could see his opponent's chest heaving, and could hear the slur to his speech. Orchid had not been idle.

Catamount sized Hack, much like a hunting lion sizes a wounded rhino. Even though the giant was wounded, he knew Hack wasn't beaten. He stared the man-thing in the eyes, and those eyes were filled with spirit. Filled with a spirit.

His catlike pupils strained for sights beyond normal vision. He could see the lifeforce that clung to Hack like a nebulous cocoon. His nose even twitched, at a foul odor so beyond human awareness that only his heightened olfactory sense allowed him to pick it up. The stench came from Hack, from the same demon-wrought aura that pulsed through his veins. Catamount tightened his jaw at the obvious paranormal nature of Hack.

"C'mon, ugly -- bring it!" Catamount growled.

The two surged at each other. Catamount knew the big man was fast, but he nevertheless let a meaty fist connect with his cheek. His teeth clacked and he tumbled with the hit, then sprung up to face Hack again. Catamount spit out blood, the wounds in his mouth already healing, and he lunged forward.

Hack grabbed Catamount's extended arm. He squeezed, but the feral fighter's bones were as strong as lead pipes. All Hack had done was open himself up for a slash with Catamount's other hand. His claws arced upward, slicing the taut muscle and tendon of the wrist and forearm that were holding the Canadian aloft. Hack moaned, his voice a rumbling bass, but he didn't let go. In a flash, he had Catamount's other arm, and tossed him over his hip, sending the agile opponent crashing into a pile of wooden crates.

Hack then turned to finish off Cavalier, but the hero had already staggered to his feet again. The noble warrior grabbed his sword by the hilt and drew it from Hack's gaping wound. Blood splattered against a heap of crates like post-modern graffiti.

"You had your chance to surrender!" Cavalier barked out from under the blanket of blood that drenched his face. "Knave," he added, feeling the urge to be archaic.

The swordsman ran the blade of his weapon deeply across Hack's wide chest, cleaving through flesh, muscle and connective tissue. His returning swing landed in Hack's right arm, stopping only when it hit bone. Cavalier then withdrew the sword from the monster's caber-like arm and performed an offensive spin that buried the weapon deep between Hacks head and shoulder.

Amazement struck Cavalier when the demonic beast still had the fight to grab him by the collar of the jacket and head butt his face once again, but this time it was different. Immediately after the blast of pain from the butt, Cavalier felt himself falling, felt the splash of water followed by a coldness encompassing him.

When Cavalier broke the surface of the briny water, he discovered he was in the middle of the ocean! There was a heavy dusk out and he couldn't see land anywhere. What he did see was Hack slowly swimming for him, his wounds obviously taking a toll.

"Land or water, I'm taking you out," Cavalier's declaration carried enormous weight, as if generations of heroes backed it.

When Hack got within striking distance, Cavalier buried his blade deep into the man-thing's stomach.

"Don't you ever expire?" asked the warrior as he thrust his blade in, again and again, until the massive creature started to sink into the dark sea. Cavalier, not to be tricked again, watched through the blood-clouded water as Hack just kept sinking down.

"I don't like this," noted the warrior to himself through pursed lips.

Cavalier kept scanning the area for his opponent, not knowing whether to believe him dead or not. That was when he spotted the large aquatic form that had been attracted by the blood and thrashing. It would only be a few minutes before its brothers would join in and dorsal fins would break the water.

"Okay," Cavalier issued a heavy sigh and drew a large dagger from its scabbard. "I wonder which of the hundred curses I'm under is responsible for this mess..."

Back on the docks, Omega was winded hard, but at least he was still in the fight. He concentrated for a second, and whatever damage Orchid had done to his stamina vanished. Even though Catamount's body regenerated at a superhuman rate, Omega still ordered him to take a rest. "Not that I have any jurisdiction over you Molsonites," he added with a smile.

"Tommy!" Sarah said, leaping in with Dr. Wight perched on her shoulder. She looked at Orchid, lying trapped and beaten on the ground. Omega stepped to Knock-out and checked her face. The bruise she’d received from Adam’s powerful blow had faded to near invisibility.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Sarah swallowed and nodded, dropping Wight onto the ground. "Yeah, I’m okay. Permafrost wasn’t at the asylum -- we found lots of other horrible stuff, like decomposing bodies and a three-armed monster straight out of Frankenstein, but no sign of John."

"I think we could collaborate on a screenplay for our personal own horror movie," Omega said.

"It's not over yet," Dr. Wight stated. "Hack"

"I know," Omega said. "The last time I saw him was underwater, although I heard a chainsaw and a sword clash over by the navalyards. How 'bout me and Sarah go over there and check it out, while you and Catamount heal up here and keep an eye on Orchid."

"I want to go with you," Catamount growled.

"Stay here as back-up," Omega countered, and he had a brief stare down with the Canadian. "Sorry, I'd be pissed too. But I don't want him coming back here and making a rescue play." Tommy smiled. "Besides, it's your turn to watch Orchid."

Tommy grabbed Sarah gently and started getting airborne. "Hang on. I'm going to get some altitude and see if we can spot Hack. It should be a lot safer going after him from up here; it's a lot harder to teleport after us up here." Sarah nodded and hung on. "Maybe if we're lucky, he'll be one of those monsters who start out being goddamn frightening, but run out tricks by the end of the movie"

"Tommy, I don't think so" Sarah said, pointing upward at an approaching object, and Tommy heard the buzz of an approaching airplane. They had heard them throughout the battle but this one sounded different, louder. When they looked up they noticed a passenger plane, a navy four-propeller job, locked in a nosedive -- and heading straight at them.

"No it can't be," Omega said, but he could feel a taint of black magic in the front of the plane. "Holy shit!" Omega exclaimed.

"Tommy!"

"I'm gonna have to fly solo," Omega said. Sarah nodded and leapt off, diving away semi-gracefully towards the ground. Omega charged to intercept the plane before it crashed. "You goddamn crazy psycho motherfucker" It was an impressive string of obscenities, even by Omega's standards.

Omega got altitude. At 800 feet Tommy reached the nose of the plane. He could see Hack at the controls steering the plane down on top of the shipyard. Omega grabbed the nose with a wide grip and tried to slow its descent. There were at least three other people in the plane with him. "How'd you ever get past the FAA?" he asked, then unexpectedly Hack dove through the windshield and grabbed the compromised Nebraskan by the throat. Hack lay on the hood with his hands locked around the throat of the Chosen, trying to squeeze the air from his lungs with one foul grip.

"Nah... Gah... Mag!" Omega spat out incoherently from a bloodied mouth.

Hack just stared intensely into the fading eyes of the Chosen as the plane once again picked up speed as it headed for the docks.

Knock-out landed heavily on a dock, shattering the weathered planks and plunging into the icy water below. When she broke the surface of the water, the shivering heroine looked up and stared in horror as the plane full of passengers plummeted from the sky with Tommy practically strapped down at ground zero. "Get down!" she hollered over at Wight and Catamount. "Take cover!" Seconds before the plane hit, she sunk beneath the water.

The whining aircraft plunged straight into the harbor, sending a huge spray of black water skyward before exploding just beneath the surface. The sound under the water was deafening, and Sarah was tosses about like a rag doll but the underwater shockwave. When she was finally able to right herself she headed for the surface.

Wreckage and burning oil covered the surface of the water where the place had hit, and as Sarah swam over she called out for her friend. "Tommy! Tommy, I know you made it!"

Movement in the dark water ahead caught her eye. "Tommy?" she asked without confidence. Someone's head broke the surface, and when Sarah recognized the mask, she felt her stomach knot and her throat tighten. "Oh God," she whispered.

Hack swam closer, closer to the woman who had hurt Adam, who had rejected him, like all other women. Her time had come.

Swimming for the dock with long, powerful strokes, Sarah reached a pier in a matter of seconds. Pulling herself out of the harbor, she was shocked when she turned around and found herself suddenly staring into the hollow eyes of the killer she'd just seen in the water. The saw revved once, then twice, and Sarah knew that she was going to have to face Hack alone.

Having seen Hack fight before, Knock-out was prepared for the giant's deceptive quickness; still she was shocked by the ferocity of his attack. Hack’s infatuation with the woman now took a very definite back-seat to feelings of intense betrayal and seething hatred. The chainsaw sang a song of death and malice, and Knock-out suffered no fewer than a half-dozen deep, ragged cuts before even having a chance to land a blow of her own. Putting her body into it, Sarah delivered a punch powerful enough to dent battleship steel straight into the side of Hack's head. Bones cracked and blood spurted across the ground as Hack stumbled and fell to his knees. Sarah noticed for the first time that he'd already suffered terrible injuries in the battle. She was not about to underestimate his healing abilities, however.

"Get up," the bloodied heroine spat.

Hack did, and charged at the woman with his saw howling. Sarah, drawing on her training with Lioness, dodged at the last second, flattening her body to the ground in an impressive display of flexibility. Tangling up Hack's thick legs as he passed over her, Knock-out felled the man and rolled to her feet. Lifting her heavy boot, the muscular blonde brought her foot down with crushing force directly on her opponent's head. Again and again her foot came down, stamping Hack's head into a disturbingly odd shape against the crumbling pavement beneath him.

"Bastard!" Knock-out shouted, vividly remembering all the horrors he'd visited on people, all the crime scenes she'd visited. Tears streamed down her face as her blood mingled with Hack’s on the ground. "Die!"

Scarlet liquid flowed freely from every orifice in Hack's head, and the creature could feel that the end was near, even given his awesome powers of regeneration. But still he hated, and still he refused to let go of his thirst for punishment. From nowhere the chainsaw appeared in his weakening hands, and it was with sheer force of demonic will that he was able to direct the gnashing blade at Knock-out's planted foot.

The spinning teeth of the saw roared through boot, flesh, bone and asphalt before Sarah howled in agony and fell down, clutching her foot. The pair laid in agony for long moments before Hack finally sat up. Sarah's foot had nearly been cut in half, and the pain of the wound was like nothing Sarah had ever experienced. It was through blurry, watery eyes that she saw the mountain of a man approach.

"I won't let you kill me," the girl said solemnly, rising on her good leg. "I won't," she managed defiantly.

Again the saw roared, but this time Sarah managed to grapple with Hack by grabbing onto the saw itself. It felt cold, and raw, and evil. It felt hateful -- but she wasn't about to let go. The duo strained against one another for a moment, the veritable giant threatening to overwhelm the much smaller woman. Sarah's muscles, however, bulged and rippled as she fought, and she slowly started to gain the upper hand. When Hack redoubled his efforts, Knock-out did the same, and it was with a gut-wrenching crack that one of the monster's elbows gave way, splintering and shattering under the strain. One arm crippled, Hack soon lost the fight for control of the saw and found it biting deep into his side, flesh and tissue being cast far into the night air.

Sarah howled in abandon as she forced the weapon deeper into Hack's body. When it finally reached his spinal column, it skipped and chirped off the bone it hit with a revolting squeal. Hack shook and spasmed with the terrible vibration of the attack, and by the time he dropped to the ground, Sarah had cut him very nearly in two.

Sarah cried out in anguish as she dropped the saw and then to her knees. Physically and emotionally exhausted and covered in blood, she wailed and sobbed into her hands over what she'd done.

Some distance away, Omega helped several people out of the water. He'd managed to shield the plane's occupants seconds before impact, and had miraculously saved all of them.

"Jesus Christ!" the hero said at seeing the carnage. "Sarah!"

Her shoulders slumped, Sarah looked up, tears running down her bloodstained cheeks. "I I had to" was all she could manage.

Tommy knelt and took the girl into his arms. "It's alright, Sarah," he comforted, glancing at Hack's half-severed body. He watched the fingers move, grasping at the air, as he held Sarah tight.

"God, I want it to be over!" Sarah sobbed, burying her face in the man's shoulder.

Tommy watched as Hack slowly rolled over and got up, his guts spilling all over the ground and his limbs quivering and shaking all the while. "It's over," he whispered as Hack teleported his saw back into his hands. Standing up, he stepped between the broken villain and the fallen heroine. "It is over," he emphasized, louder.

Omega connected with a backhand, and then a right hook. Upon regaining his balance from the devastating punch, Hack lashed out with the devil-machine. Omega grabbed it, wrested it from the behemoth, place-kicked it into the bay, and then resumed his assault.

"No more ambushes," he snapped. "No more teleportation" He threw another punch, a right hook whose impact echoed like a thunder strike across the bay. Philadelphia shuddered. "No more vendettas" Another punch. "No more blood." Another punch. "No more deaths" Another punch. "No more kidnappings" Another punch. Hack was knocked back into the side of a large gunboat. Omega growled, and lifted it with the ease of a child hoisting a toy, and slammed it on Hack. There was a boom from its impact and a crunching sound. "No more. I'm sick of this shit."

To Omega's surprise, no one teleported behind him. He finally lifted the ship off his opponent. But Hack wasn't there. Instead, there was a young man, short, skinny, dressed in the over-sized clothes Hack was wearing, trapped within the shadowy void of the man-giant's craterous impression. Fragments of a broken hockey mask laid scattered by the young man's head.

"Omega?" the youth gasped. He cringed as Tommy approached him, but then steeled himself. Omega pulled him from the wreckage, a little roughly. "What did he make me do?" Melvin asked, worrying about the man's reaction. "Did I"

"Dr. Wight!" Knock-out called, still on the ground. "Over this way!"

"It's all over, Melvin," Omega said, a little wary, part of him wondering if this wasn't another trap. Fuck it, he thought, looking at the despair on Melvin's face, and he gave the kid a hug. "You're a handful, you know that?" Tommy Champion said with a smile.

"Kill me, please," Melvin exclaimed, breaking down into tears. "Please, please, please kill me. I want to be dead, he's not gone yet. I can feel him deep in my head I want to be free!"

"Melvin" Omega wasn't sure what to say, cradling his head and rocking him gently. "There’s no need to get the costume wet, man. And nobody wants you to die. After all the trouble we went through, you know, to help you get loose, dying would really suck. Right?"

"Where did it all go wrong? I wanted to be one of the good guys," Melvin said again, still sobbing.

It now seemed obvious to Tommy that this wasn't a trap, and that he had completed his task. Now the kid's sanity was the priority. "It ain’t too late. Melvin, I really need your help," Omega said, searching for a way to make him feel better about himself.

"Of course," Melvin answered. "All the lies we told about you, all those hurtful things I'll tell the truth. I'll make them believe"

"I know you will," Omega said. "We're buds, okay?" He grabbed his hand and squeezed it enthusiastically.

"But what if Hack comes back? There's only one way to prevent that!" Melvin insisted. "You've gotta kill"

"Hey, what's a Hack?" Omega interjected, and he stepped on the mask and crunched it under foot. "You're scared of some lousy Hollywood writer? Y'know, I wish I could beat my bogeyman as easily as you beat yours. You're a hero, Melvin. We're gonna have to get you a suit."

Dr. Wight, helping a limping Knock-out, slowly approached the unusual pair. Wight looked at the mask under Tommy's foot with interest.

"Mr. Champion? If you don't mind"

Omega lifted his foot. "Oops. Sorry, doc."

Wight, a glove on his good hand, dropped the mask fragments into a velvet bag. "You won't be needing this anymore, I suspect," he commented to the skinny young man.

"When they lock me up, do you think you could possibly visit me? Even if just for a few minutes?" Melvin asked, a little tentatively, worried that his new friends would abandon him.

Feeling sick to her stomach, Sarah nodded, then started to cry again. Omega put his hand on her shoulder, but kept his eye, and his smile, on his former adversary.

"You'll hear from me," Omega promised. "It's really hard for anyone to shut me up, so I'll be in touch."

There was a low groan from the broken, tangled mass of darkness on the dock. Orchid's pale face arose, torn but frighteningly bloodless. She pulled stupidly at the shackles binding her hands, then slowly, painfully pulled herself over the rough boards.

"Melvin." Her voice was low, rough, and pathetic. "Melvin. It's you."

Catamount had gone searching for Cavalier, but Dr. Wight was there, along with Omega, Knock-out, and Melvin, and a host of naval personnel. The Warders were on their way with Orchid's transportation to Purgatory Prime. Omega said nothing -- the sight of Orchid's battered face was no comfort for him.

Melvin looked down, then away again, very quickly. He swallowed. "Janey, you're sick. Let them help you. Please."

Orchid whimpered, clawing at the planks as she dragged herself closer. "But Melvin... I... we were... together." She looked up at him, her face pleading. "I wanted to help you." Melvin closed his eyes and turned away. "Melvin!" Her voice was ragged, desperate. "We're partners! Don't leave me!" Melvin turned his face to the cold steel wall of the nearby ship, putting his hands up to hide the tears. "You can't leave me! You're one of us!"

Melvin hesitated, glancing back at her. She was Janey. Under all of the evil and horror, she was still Janey. He had to battle Hack; maybe Janey could put Orchid to sleep. He took a tentative step toward her.

All these things I will give You if You will but fall down and worship me.

Janey looked up. Melvin stepped slowly toward her, starting to reach out his hand.

What profiteth it a man to gain the world if he lose his only son? Daxrathas’s purr was soft and seductive, with only the faintest edge of mockery. Why, it profiteth him the world, my dear child. It profiteth him the world.

Janey’s eyes widened, watching Melvin look down at her with pity in his eyes.

Just one more little sacrifice, Janey, murmured Daxrathas gently. One more tiny gift to me. And all these will be yours.

Janey groaned, dragging her manacled arms up from around her. She looked around the docks, at the faces of all those who had made her suffer. Who had always made her suffer. Who would always force her to suffer.

You’ve already given me your soul, my dear. Why get squeamish now?

Janey reached out toward Melvin’s extended hand.

Haven’t you ever wondered, asked Daxrathas, what blood like his must taste like? Her fingers closed over Melvin’s thin, cold hand. Take him now, and we shall feast together.

Tommy lunged forward as the vampiress surged to her feet, forcing herself up by sheer force of will. Reaching out with her manacled hands, she grabbed Melvin and held him before her, glaring into his eyes with a hungry hatred. An instant later she hurled him forward with a bitter snarl, turning from him to meet Omega’s rush. As his fist contacted heavily with the side of her skull, she dived into the welcoming blackness and the long, disappointed howl of the demon within. Fare well, Melvin, she thought. May they help you more than I could.

It wasn't long until the authorities arrived. The Philadelphia police had the entire shipyard taped off, and cruisers cordoned the rest of the harbor front to keep pedestrians and members of the press far from the battle-scarred crime scene.  Even a Board-issued air skiff hovered over the rippling waters off a ravaged pier. Four Draughtsmen -- two white agents, two black agents -- did their best to take control of the situation.

"What in tarnation happened here?" asked an exasperated White Draughtsman, most likely the squad leader. "It looks like half of Philly was turned upside down."

"Actually, I thought it looked more inside-out," quipped Catamount, lighting up a freshly rolled cigarette.

The Draughtsman glared at the Canadian through his visored helmet. "No time for jokes, funny man. I want answers -- and now."

Dr. Wight carefully made his way through the bustling police officers and reached Catamount's side. "Excuse me, Agent." He withdrew his wallet and flashed the armored cop his identification. "I'm Professor Wight, and this friend of mine is Catamount, of the Canadian Shield..."

Omega watched as the Draughtsmen dragged Orchid away, swallowing hard with each step. He thought of his murdered friend, of course, but also the road that led her here, and just how little he knew about the people who had dragged him through Hell. “Now I really feel like shit,” he muttered, and turned to the others, keeping a particularly careful eye on Knock-out, who seemed more heavily scarred than the rest of them combined. “Orchid said something about John being held in some rectory near Point Pleasant. I’m gonna check it out quick.”

“What about your reputation?” Cavalier asked. “And the police report? A plane crashed, for heaven’s sake!”

“I’ll deal with that shit first thing tomorrow morning,” Omega answered. “Right now, John’s the priority. And later, Sarah, if you’d like to go out and get your mind off this”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Sarah answered.

Tommy gave a slight smile. “Well, then screw escapism. Let’s head over to the Spectrum and watch some ‘wrasslin.’ Y’know, people in tights, having big fights; that’s supposed to be fun isn’t it?”  

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