HEROES Chapter 5

Grey furrowed his brow at the dog that came bounding towards him and his friend.

"What the f%*&...?" but he had little time to contemplate on it as it was fairly clear the snarling creature was out for blood. With a nonchalant turn of his wrist, Grey fired a well-aimed round at the dog. From there, it was a split second in which Grey detected two sets of movement just before the sun reflected off of a building and he squinted against the piercing rays, turning and trying to peek out of his black eye's damaged vision. No sooner did he turn that a barrage of gunfire filled his ears and he reacted blindly, purely on instinct.

Dropping to the ground, Grey rolled across his back and kicked off, launching himself behind a pile of moldy boxes. When he settled, there was a pause as his cracked ribs flared painfully, but he had little opportunity to nurse it. Gritting his teeth, he could only hope that Scavenger survived the gunfire and managed to take out the other one. Grey's only real concern was bloodying Wrangler. Behind the boxes, his control waned from the shock of the turn of events. Popping up from behind the boxes, he nimbly leaped on top and kicked off, firing at the men's legs and shoulders through his own facial tics. He wanted to keep at least Wrangler alive, if only temporarily, so he could feel the full force of what he'd caused Grey but if he had to kill...

As he kicked off the boxes, they toppled across the alley, spilling out in front of Cowboy and Totem. With inhuman speed and balance, Grey landed atop the Dumpster and paused, surveying the damage he hopefully did to his opponents.

The dog fell to the pavement with yelp from a well placed shot to its heart. With its final beats pumping blood through the hole in its chest, Totem alongside Cowboy charged toward the lone gunman. In experienced with the hand gun, Totem aimed small to miss small but he was unaccustomed to the weapon and widely missed his first shot. After that he pulled the trigger as fast as he could hoping that at least one of his shots would strike home, but with incredible speed and agility their opponent launched himself through the air and behind some crates near the entrance.

Scavenger who was outside of the alley, remained against the wall. As the gunshots blared out of the narrow enclosed lane, he waited for one of the men to emerge, coiling like a snake, his knives at ready.

His clip nearly spent, Totem held his fire and awaited to see if the gunman was hit or not, but when he leapt out with his gun blazing, the Haida man took evasive action. With the spirit of the fox within him, Totem was fast, and able to move at impossible angles, as if he were suddenly light enough to speed up and stop on dime at will. He sprinted to the opposite wall of the alley as bullets ricocheted around him and literally ran along the wall for a few strides, his body almost inverted. A bullet sliced through his shoulder, forcing him to drop his gun and he dove out of the alley rolling smoothly to his feet just in front of the stolen car Grey was driving.

Scavenger leapt and Totem quickly turned to meet him, alerted by the man's scent and sound of his thick soled boots against the pavement.

Tim saw the dog fall to the pavement and a pool of blood begain to form around the animal's body. "Now why'd ya hafta go an' do a damned fool thang like that fur, hombre. All ya had ta do was just let us be on ar way. But no, ya had ta go an' kill a man's best friend." ..... Tim stood and released two rounds from the .357 revolver at the cursing man's hand that held the weapon, one of the rounds struck the weapon just above the grip the second slammed into the wall behind him. Tim then dove for cover, scooping up Totems weapon, as he dove behind three trash cans filled with construction debris. "Ya alright thar pardnar?" Tim shouted at Totem.

Allie was on her way home, her window down, a country station playing softly. She was thinking about her friends underneath the streets, hoping that they were okay when she heard gunfire and the distant sound of sirens.

~This can't be good and I probably shouldn't get involved, but what the hell.~

Turning off the radio, she followed the sounds of gunfire to an alley about ten blocks from her apartment. Shit! This was too close to home. She caught a glimpse of a man dressed in gothic clothes with spiked hair and....Totem? Rolling her eyes, she headed for the rear of the alley via another alley off of a side street and parked the truck.

Sliding out, she shut the door quietly, setting the alarms and pocketing the keys. Pressing herself up against the wall of the alley, she kept her eyes on Totem and the goth man when she heard yelling and saw another man who had Cowboy pinned down. She stood there, watching as a dog come down and head for the man yelling obscentities. When the sob shot the dog, Allie saw red, her eyes showing flames as well as her hands. When Cowboy fired his gun, knocking the pistol out of the man's hand, she made her move, throwing small fire balls at his feet, causing him to back up towards the Goth man and Totem.

She watched Totem engage the other guy as she came up next to Tim. Looking down at him, she smiled at him, the flames in her eyes making them bright.

"We have to quit meeting like this, you know. People will begin to talk."

She turned serious then, assessing the situation, hearing the sirens get closer.

"We need to wrap this up. The cops are coming and RAID will not be far behind, not with another disturbance in the Windy City on the heels of the first one. What do you say? Let's wrap this up and whether you want to or not, we need to get you and Totem back to my place. I have news for you, but here is not the place for it."

Standing, she sees Totem go up against Goth man and his blades and decides to even the score.

"As soon as we get Totem, head for the rear of the alley and turn right. My truck is right there, it's a big Dodge Ram."

She rushes the men, shooting small fire balls the size of golf balls at the two, not wanting to ignite anything, just get them away from Totem.

Totem was faster than his attacker and as Scavenger slashed away with his two razor sharp curved blades, he passed under one and caught the other before it could pierce his abdomen. He then caught Scavenger in the belly with a hard kick, knocking the wind out of the kid.

"Doin' just fine, Cowboy!" Totem shouted a reply back to Tim as he stood over the gasping punker. He could hear the police sirens in the distance and looking around the deserted streets wondered how in the hell the cops were alerted so quickly.

"That all you got boy!" Taunted Totem as Scavenger sucked wind, and the younger man retaliated with a barrage of wild swings that the Haida man dodged. He was actually enjoying himself as the spirit of the fox allowed him to react quickly to knife attacks but then one got a little too close and the razor sharp blade took off a strand of his long hair and nicked his neck.

"You ain't that %^&*ing fast!" Spat Scavenger between breaths as he pointed his bloodied knife defiantly at his opponent.

Totem drew his long knife and chanted, calling to him the spirit of the mountain lion. As his eyes transformed from the brown of the fox to the pale green of the cougar the cat's agility and strength surged through his muscles. Scavenger noticed the transformation and recognized then who he was fighting. "Totem." he whispered, "Thought you were dead, %^&*er. Should'a stayed dead!"

The two men lunged toward one another, but both diverted their attack as fiery missiles hailed down upon them. Scavenger rolled and leapt into the air transforming into a raven and flying toward a roof as Totem leapt high into the air and landed on the roof of the stolen car. He spun around, ready to hurl his knife and held his throw when he saw that the attack had come from Flaming Angel. Saying nothing he turned to see the raven land on the roof of a six story building and transform once more into his Gothic opponent.

"What the &%$*!" Screamed Scavenger at Totem. "You &$%*ing pussies ain't up for a fair fight!"

"I didn't invite her!" Replied Totem as he flashed an angry look back to Flaming Angel. "Stay out of this!" he roared, then he leapt across the street in a single bound and proceeded to jump from window to window in a serpentine fashion until he stood opposite Scavenger who patiently awaited him on the edge of the roof top, perched like a bird.

Allie immediately stopped throwing fireballs when she heard Totem yell at her to stay out of it. Shrugging her shoulders, she looked down at Tim and got the feeling that he felt the same way. This was their fight and they would just as soon she stay out of it.

"Fine, I'll go wait by my truck. Join me when you're both done with these two yahoos."

Turning, she shook her head at the egos of men and sauntered off to her truck. She would stay out of it so long as the playing field was somewhat even. Getting to her truck in the side alley, she stood there watching, ready to move if there was more gunfire, until then she simply watched.

Scavenger crouched down looking over the edge of the old building like some gothic new age gargoyle, watching the native man spring like a cat from ledge to ledge until he was standing on the opposite corner. A fiendish grin twisted the side of his mouth as he watched the one he figured to be Flaming Angel reluctantly step away from the fray.

"Your wife's gotta sweet ass." he mischievously commented then continued to taunt him, "Seem's she fights your battles fer ya too." he mocked.

Totem was silent, but beneath his calm exterior his was seething and Scavenger knew it. Flaming Angel's interference with his fight was a great insult, but he realized that she like many in her position was only trying to do the right thing. For all she knew, this black clad kid could possess powers that made him too formidable for just one guy to handle. Still, he'd rather be the one to choose when he needed help and not let someone step in announced when he has the upper hand.

"You're lucky I don't let her come up here and fry your ass." Totem retorted, folding his arms across his chest and confidently smiling. "So who the hell am I about to kill?"

Stefan grinned, smoothly rose and turned his corvine features toward the Native man. "Scavenger." he answered as he tossed his long bleached bangs from his face. He then returned his gaze to Flaming Angel and thought of one the members of his old gang that had just escaped from the Detention Centre. Snow Angel, was going to enjoy turning her into a cold cadaver, just for taking her name. "Your 'hot' friend will have her hands full if she comes after me, Totem, but enough about your wife. We gonna do this or not?" he sneered.

Totem was just about done listening to this fool jabber on and it seemed the only way he was going to shut him was to slit his throat. A quick solution to an annoying problem, he figured.

Blood dripped from his shoulder wound and ebbed down his neck from where Scavenger's blade has found its mark. Totem was thankful that the bullet had just grazed him, but it still burned like a son-of-a-bitch. Nothing that a little adrenaline couldn't handle though. The small cuts in his back pained him as well, but hardly hindered him, he felt strong and fast and was anxious for a knife fight.

"Hope you're ready you little shit, 'cause here I come." Growled Totem, as he bolted along the edge of the building toward his awaiting opponent.

Scavenger gripped his knives tightly and took a defensive stance as the Haida moved with his cat-like quickness, leaping into the air, his long knife trailing behind him, poised to strike.

Morgan was semi-conscious as Seizure and Kekoa guided the carrier through the tunnels as Wraith engaged the RAID agents. She'd felt the dog die, so deeply connected with the animals now, and there was a hitch in her breathing as the dog died. If possible, she became even more pale. For each animal that was injured or killed, she would feel it and lose a little more of herself with each one. She had connected herself so deep within the animals minds around the city that without being fully conscious, she was unable to break the connection.

***********Saturday May 23, 2010 Rosebud Lakota Sioux Reservation in South Dakota************

Jackie Running Wolf was kneeling on the floor, knowing that something was wrong with her niece, Morgan, but she didn't know what, yet. Deciding to do a meditation walk, she fasted the remainder of the day, until the following morning as her husband, Sam Running Wolf, prepared the sweat Lodge.

**********Sunday, May 24, 2010 Rosebud Lakota Sioux Reservation in South Dakota 5:00 a.m.*******

Jackie stepped into the sweat lodge having sung her prayer songs to the Great Spirit to guide her vision so that she may see her niece and what was wrong. Sitting cross legged on her prayer mat, she burned the sage stick, now chanting to the animal spirits to help her see Morgan. Her connection to her niece through their similar abitlities and blood helped speed along the vision.

**********Sunday May 24, 2010 Sewer tunnels underneath the streets of Chicago 7:00 a.m.********

The rat sat inside a crevice inside the wall of the sewer tunnel as Ayana and Kekoa came by with Morgan on the carrier. It's eyes were focused on the girl strapped to the carrier as it jumped onto her, startling Ayana. It's small hand like paw gently touched Morgan's cheek, feeling the heat radiating off the skin. Before either of the others could react, the rat jumped down.

******Sunday May 24, 2010 Rosebud Lakota Sioux Reservation, South Dakota***********

Jackie's breath came in gasps as she felt Morgan's fever through the little rodent. She felt Morgan slipping away yet in an animal connection she could not break. Jackie knew that she risked herself in doing what she was about to do, but she'd already lost her daughter, she wasn't about ready to lose her niece, nor would the tribe be willing to lose Morgan. Calling to Sam, she quickly told him what she knew and he in turn gathered the others of their tribe to be ready to care for Jackie once he explained to them what was going on. Jackie in turn focused on the hawk, using all of her ability to connect with the bird of prey, using it's eyes to locate Totem. She was hoping that the man's spirit hawk would allow him to see what she was implanting into the bird's mind. Which was a picture of Morgan laying on the carrier, her skin flushed and sweaty with fever. Her face very pale.

Grey didn't expect the gun to be tossed from his hand and was about to pounce on it when tiny fireballs began bouncing around his feet. Their size and their being aimed so low made it easy for the meta to dodge and he nimbly leaped off from the Dumpster and grabbed hold of a fire escape, swinging himself onto it and scanning the dark alley for his gun.

"What's the matter, Wrangler?" Grey called, "gotta get some bitch to do your dirty work for you?!" His face twitched as he spoke. The unexpected events and his own lingering anger making it difficult to keep a hold on suppressing his tics. "Bitch... whore..." he muttered before turning back to Cowboy's angry face. His gun caught the remaining moonlight, a faint glint in the shadows too far for Grey to get to. Instead, he turned back to Wrangler's gun-- at least the one visible to him-- and with a glance, jammed it. As soon as Totem shooed their little friend off and took his tangle with Scavenger to the roof, Grey jumped down from the fire escape and darted back behind some crates, working his way towards his gun. "Come on, redneck! Fight like a man!"

Tim took aim at the curcing man's gun and pulled the triger on his S&W .357 M&P Revolver. THe weapon missfired, Ti squeezed the trigger again and another misfire. He pulled the hammer back halfway and spun the cylinder. Took aim, pulled the trigger again and a bullet struck the aggresor's weapon causing it to spin further down the alley. Tim fired two more times and with each shot the aggressor's weapon spun further away. He then stood up and glared at the cursing man. "Ya wanta fight like man? Well lets do it lke a man punk." he said as he held his weapon up, stoped down, slowly placing his revolver on the ground. Then Tim removed his jacket, placing it next to the revolver. Tim then stood up took four strides away from it. "Well ya feel lucky taday punk, ar ya just gonna hide back thar and run yur yap like a mangy curr dog?"

While Cowboy was calling on his foe to a good old fashioned bare knuckle fight after getting a taste of Grey's unusual ability to cause malfunctions, Totem savagely dove at his opponent.

Nonchalantly taking time slip on his dark glasses to protect his sensitive eyes from the growing light, Scavenger leapt backwards of the building. He instantly transformed into a raven and quickly flew around behind his charging attacker, morphing once more into his Human form.

Totem watched the raven out of the corner of his eye as he flew through the air, a victim of his own inertia. By the time he landed, the waylaying maggot was already slashing at his back but Totem wasn't dead yet. Landing lightly at the edge of the roof, he propelled himself high into the air, throwing his head back. Totem, wasn't a practiced gymnast, but with the powers of the cougar within him the maneuver felt almost natural.



Scavenger viciously attacked Totem from behind but as his gleaming blades sought out their marks the Haida man, leapt high into the air his body rotating above him. Only his long, trailing hair reflected within his dark sun glasses as Scavenger slashed the air.

Totem began to fall upon his prone attacker and before Scavenger could react drove the heel of his boot into the man's head, missing the skull but hitting him hard in the back of the neck.

As Totem crashed down on the building's ledge from over rotation, Scavenger wavered and fell onto the roof. His free left hand lashed out and caught hold of the ledge and held fast and Totem was able to quickly pull himself on to the roof top beside the unconscious man. Rising, Totem noticed that his shoulder would was bleeding more profusely and pressed his left hand over it. He looked over at Scavenger and knew that he'd be out for some time, so he turned his attention to Cowboy. Standing at the top of the building he watched his partner walk slowly away from his gun and discarded jacket into the middle of the alley. He hoped the lone gunman had the guts to face Cowboy in open combat, but if he didn't both he and Flaming Angel would make short work of the guy.

The police sirens were beginning to grow more distant, and as Totem leapt across to a lower building he noticed that they were bound for some other emergency in the area. He was pleased to know that Cowboy wouldn't have any interruptions with his bout. It was just him and the gunman, now.

Grey finally got control of himself, watching his gun slip farther and farther down the alley. Fine, he thought calmly to himself as he stood up and with one leap, landed on top of the crates before sliding down to the ground. Though his eyes still blazed with hate, his expression was cool, collected as he stared down his opponent. Standing just out of striking range, Grey circled the man like a predator savoring his prey.

"You're going down, f#$%er," Grey growled at him, "for the shit I've had to go through cuz' a you..." Gritting his teeth, Greyson clenched his fists and watched Cowboy's every move.

Tim , remained silent and stood watching as the cursing man circled him. Tim's face remained calm and serene, his body appeared to be as relaxed as if he were standing on the banks of a prarrie steam fishing. While the young man taunted him, Tim's mind had withdraw into a Zen like world, gathering and focussing all of his power. His inner body and strength were coiled like a rattlesnake ready to strike.

While Grey mostly wanted to let Tim attack first, his overwhelming urge to hit the man was beginning to take priority over his patience. Without so much as a flick of change in his facial expression, Grey suddenly shot towards Tim. With surprising speed, Grey slipped behind Cowboy and shot his elbow out for a hard whack in the back of his head, keeping Tim within his line of sight.
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Shawn moved along the rough brick walls, the sparse early-morning crowd moving distractedly around him. The smells of the city drifted around him in the crisp air and he noted the uncomfortable lack of familiarity with a reluctant pang. Chicago was frequently compared to New York, but to Shawn it might as well have been a different planet and while he hated to admit it, he found himself wishing for the red and white cane he'd stowed away at his apartment an eternity ago. Still, he managed to navigate his way along the street, his mind still churning and fuming about his growing company.

Footsteps and the rumbling of cars massaged the bottoms of his feet as his fingertips drifted along ahead of him guiding him along the sidewalk. As he moved, he toyed with the idea of making a new life here, leaving behind those who insisted on babysitting him and treating him like a fragile child. He was eighteen! Technically that made him an adult, and the angry snob in him had him at least momentarily convinced that he was smarter than the lot of them. Shawn gritted his teeth, his head lowering as his useless eyes gazed sharply upward making him look, at least at first glance, downright murderous. The vibrations told him he was approaching the street but his musings had him distracted and he walked into a woman on her way to work, causing her to spill a bit of coffee onto the pavement.

Feeling the impact, Shawn automatically muttered and signed "sorry," but this early in the morning, the woman wasn't very forgiving. Unfortunately for her, Shawn couldn't hear her yelling at him to look where he was going nor her rants about the price of coffee and how he would owe her one. Instead, Shawn simply turned after a moment and started down a side street, guided by his hands along the rough bricks of the endless buildings. Unbeknownst to him, Shawn headed roughly towards Green Street which was still a veritable beehive of RAID, police, and clean-up crews. Feeling the vibrations of business, however, Shawn decided to pause and, finding a stoop, lowered himself onto the steps, his device wedged between himself and the wall so that it wasn't immediately accessible (or stealable).

There, he took a deep breath, mulling over his own thoughts again. The walk through the cool air calmed him and he leaned against the cool brick, letting reason seep back into his mind. There was no reason for him to strike out alone, especially with the city crawling with RAID. Still, the constant worrying and babying needed to end and if he had to get the message across through a third party: One with a normal-sounding voice who didn't also speak with his hands, he would.

Sigma pulled up to the doors of an old garage, the broken windows replaced with sheets of metal and the bright colours of graffiti covered what seemed to be an abandoned building. Reaching over, he flipped open the glove compartment, hit the button on a remote then closed it up again. One of the doors began to creak open, revealing a dirty and disorganized mess of mechanical and electronic equipment strewn about the three bays. Pulling into the garage, a train whistled loudly as Sigma got out of the car and turned on the neon lights. Beside the switches the tools hanging on the wall vibrated from the rumblings of a passing locomotive, the clinks and clanks echoing through the large open area. He took off his jacket and tossed it into the Cordoba then strolled through the center bay, his hands buried deep into his pockets. Casually, he inspected the many partially finished projects that he had on the go, tinkering with one for a few minutes before continuing on to the third bay where another vehicle was parked. He grabbed the tarp and uncovered a black luxury sedan and kept walking toward a door in the back corner that lead into a poorly lit office with a bed jammed in the corner and a makeshift closet made out of an old row of lockers. Slate opened two of the metal doors and rifled through the clothes hanging in the hidden closet. He pulled out a standard black suit and tossed it on the large desk in the center of the room then ducked into the bathroom in the far corner and turned the water on in the standing shower. Everything appeared to be circa 1950, right down to the gruesome green coloured tiles but to Slate there was no place that he felt more comfortable, of all his hidden refuges this was home.

A month ago, about the same time that he had secretly declared that he was no longer going to participate in the illegal activities of the resistance, Everet Delved had fished the location of the garage out of Sigma's void of a mind. A near impossible feat to achieve, he had learned, but Sigma found that if he was compliant a strong enough psychic could attempt to extract information from him and during one of their sessions, Everet had discovered the image of a rail yard. Unfortunately, the discovery of the property didn't bring Sigma any closer to who he was since the property was under the name of a one, John Smith which must have been an alias he used a long time ago. In fact he was a little creeped out when he learned that he had apparently purchased the garage in 1956, but even that was an assumption; one that he used to convince the rail yard that he was the grandson of the original owner.

After a hot shower and shave, Slate put on the dark suit and slipped on a pair of dress shoes. He checked himself in mirror and put a comb through his thick coal black hair, then satisfied climbed into his Lexus, opened the bay door and drove out. He followed a dirt road that wove its way through a graveyard of train cars and discarded engines and emerged onto a street that linked up with one of the main city thoroughfares.

Sigma liked to blend into the mediocrity of society as much as possible when he had to move about during the day, it made him feel safe. These days what was more run-of-the-mill than a schmuck in a dark suit driving a Lexus? He definitely felt unremarkable driving down the freeway in his standard yuppie-mobile and even got a few looks from prowling cougars and flirtatious young women looking for a nice, large, wallet. Slate just shook his head, 'Bloody capitalists.', he thought.

No one suspected it, not even Grave Sight but the untidy, unkept super-hero had access to more money than he knew what do with. One of the only things he could clearly remember from beyond a year ago was an account number and name, that he knew wasn't his. He discovered a small fortune, but fearing that the money might somehow endanger him, divided it up into several other accounts and spread them out through Europe and North America. He took what he needed to live and survive in the war between metas humans and nothing else, preferring the lifestyle of a vagabond to a playboy.

The address of Mr. John Brown was coming up and Slate took an exit that would take him to his destination. He really didn't believe that he would discover anything, but just the same he had a 9mm in a shoulder holster just in case.

Tim's head rocked forward from the impact. With a feinted stagger forward Tim set one foot, raised his leg and spun around with a roundhouse kick to the aggressors ribs, with the pointed silver tipped toe of his boot. He then jumped and seemed to walk up the young mans chest, placing another kick to the aggresor's chin, with the hard heel of his cowboy boot, flipping backwards and landing lightly on his feet again. Tim then curled his fingers into his palms, threw four rapid karate punches to the aggresor's chest. Tim then struck a hard blow to the aggressors nose with the heel of his hand. Stepping back a step Tim said calmly "That all ya got boy?" .

Allie leaned up against her truck, watching Cowboy take on the irate man. She was impressed when she saw his skills. Looking up, she saw Totem and was again impressed. These two worked well together. But, as she stood there, she began to think about Totem's outburst for her to 'stay out of it'. Apparantly he didn't like interference in his battles, something she would have to accept. It was different, but then again, so were these new-comers to the Green Street Base. It had been awhile since they had anyone new join them and she'd forgotten that one had to step back and learn how everyone thought and worked before you just assumed things.

Her stance seemed relaxed, leaning up against the door to her large Dodge Ram, but she was anything but. One wrong move by either of the two morons fighting Totem and Cowboy, and she would get involved. Until then, she just enjoyed the show.

Sasha had gone into the grocery store and stolen what she needed for breakfast then leaving and finding a quiet place at a nearby park to eat her donuts and drink her pint of chocolate milk. Once she was done, she threw away her garbage and proceeded to walk through the park, enjoying the sounds of bees buzzing as they collected nectar and watching as the butterflies awoke from the long sleep of change.

The memory hit her, forcing her to sit down as she found that somehow, she'd recognized the man in the alley. He seem familiar to her, but she knew she didn't know him. She was seeing him in a black mustang could feel his arms around her as she shook. But, she'd never been in a black mustang nor had any man put his arms around her.

Looking around, her face and eyes full of confusion, she wondered about this. Was she beginning to lose it? Then, just like that, the memory was gone, fading into nothing. But the familiarity of the man remained.

Slate had turned off into a high-end neighbourhood. He cruised down wide clean streets lined with grand homes with enough space for parents to grow indifferent and alienate their rebellious children. Some probably didn't even have kids, the extra seven or more rooms wasted on the vanity of people who had way too much money and not enough sense to know what to do with it. Not that he was one to talk. Even though, Slate lived a few steps above the poverty line he was just as guilty of squandering his fortune. At least, though, he wasn't adding to urban sprawl or wasting energy with a spacious home of which maybe a quarter of it was used from day to day.

The shiny black Lexus pulled up in front of a home that was nothing less than an estate. A long cobblestone driveway lead to a four car garage which was set behind the massive three story house. The stately white manor was modeled after the colonial style as opposed to standard cookie cutter design that dominated the area and so it stood out like a sore thumb. Slate figured that it obviously preceded the development that sprang up around it otherwise there would have been no tolerance for someone colouring outside of the lines.

Slate walked up a winding pathway cut into a vivid green lawn landscaped with decorative flower beds that had yet to bloom. He walked beneath, budding maple and oak trees, some which he noticed with security cameras nestled in their boughs, stood before the stately double doorway and rang the bell.

A man in a suit not so unlike his own answered the door. "Yes." he said, "How can I help you?"

Slate recognized the patience and compliant greeting of a man who was already onl the defense. It was very apparent that he had been watching his approach on the security cameras since he pulled up and has probably already ran his plates.

Reaching into his breast pocket Slate produced a badge and identification displaying the large red letters of 'R.A.I.D.' " Agent Wilks, Riggs Act Investigation and Detention. May I speak with Mr. John Brown?" Inquired Slate using his false identity.

The man scrutinized the identification, but Slate was hardly worried. Wilks was real, a deep cover agent who Slate had bore a remarkable resemblance to. Probably not enough to fool those who knew him, but there was little chance of him running into that problem. Wilks was a meta-human working to infiltrate the resistance and unfortunately on one dark moonless night encountered Sigma. It didn't take much imagination to later assume the man's identity. Once in a while putting in a call to give a progress report and perpetuate the agent's existence. The car he was currently driving had belonged to Wilks and aided in selling the disguise.

Slate knew that a security check on Wilks would stop all but those with special clearances and even if those were bypassed he had all the necessary information memorized. In a sense he had become Wilks and it was an identity that he shared no one else for obvious reasons.

"I'm sorry but he's not in at the moment." Answered the man, motioning to close the door.

Slate was expecting the man's answer. He was pretty sure that the house was the home of some high ranking government official. The doorman, was hired muscle. Maybe a body guard but he gave off a government vibe.

"May ask what this concerns, agent Wilks?" Asked the door man.

"The license plate of a car owned by Mr. Brown appeared on a surveillance recording during an investigation and just had some questions for him." Slate professionally responded. He then took out one of his business cards and handed it to the man, "Please have him call me."

Slate exited via the drive way so that he could get a better look at the garage, then made his way back to his car. The man remained in the doorway, watching him all the way. Only when he was back in his car, did he close the door.

As he drove away, Slate's interest was piqued. He wanted to know now, more than ever who 'John Brown' was and what agency controlled the house. Was it Beacon? Of course, he couldn't go snooping around now without Wilks becoming a suspect and a connection forming between Wilks and Sigma. He would have to rely on someone else for that, but who? He'd think on it while he made his rounds. Slate still wanted to know who in Beacon could hurl electricity. Hopefully his contacts would reveal that part of the puzzle.

Grey saw stars when Tim's boots struck him in the ribs, undoing any healing that might have been done. The pain left him wide open for the attack to his chin, but he managed to pull his wits back around him on the ground. Curling up with his fists in front, Grey managed to block the Cowboy's swift attacks until he finally jumped back for a cocky one-liner. He then made to jump quickly to his feet but unfortunately, the sharp, stabbing pain from his ribs slowed him a bit. Gritting his teeth, a few swears tumbled from his lips before he got to his feet and stared daggers down at Tim. Grinding through the excruciating pain, Grey let out a scream of anger and agony and threw his fist so fast and so hard into Tim's jaw that there was no time for him to react.

When Tim was rocking from the blow, Grey shot a hand out towards his neck, planning to slam Tim against the brick wall.

Allie was still watching Cowboy and Grey battle it out when the cursing man let out a bellow and clocked Cowboy....hard enough to rock his world.

Raising hand without thought, she aimed for the man, his back turned to her and created a small flame shaped like a dart. If she did this right, then as soon as the flame made contact, she would put it out. It would burn, stop the blow to Cowboy's throat, but it would also give Cowboy time to recover from the blow.

She aimed and fired, the small 1 inch flame shooting from the tip of her index finger and hitting Grey in the back of the neck, leaving a scorch mark before she extinguished it with her ability to control fire. It stopped his swing and had him turning to her, cursing at her.

"Even playing field, jackass. Just keeping an even playing field. Kick his ass, Cowboy!!"

Allie went back to leaning up against her truck, watching once more.

Tim rocked back, spat some blood out onto the pavment and moved his jaw back and forth. As the young man reached for Tim's throat, Tim reached out and grabbed the young mans thumbs twisting them and bending them back towards the young man's wrist with one hand. While executing that move, Tim cruled the fingers of his other hand into his palms, Tim landed a rapid series of a dozen Karate punches to the young man's ribs. Each blow lifted the young man several inches off the pavment, as he bent and twisted the youngman's thumbs back further towards the young man's wrist.

Totem had just descended to the mouth of the alley when he spied Flaming Angel's interference in the battle and as much as he wanted Cowboy to win the fight was not proud to be party to a torturous mob. It was true that the swearing man had attempted to kill them but he still believed in a fair fight. If the tables turned on Cowboy, he'd be the first to step in and ensure that the match ended with no further blood shed, but the way he saw it both of the men agreed to the fight and it was their choice how they intended to finish it. Stepping in would only dishonor Cowboy, and it seemed to Totem that Flaming Angel just didn't get it, but if she did know better and that was the way she preferred to fight then he and her were going to have a little chat and she wasn't going to like his choice of words one bit.

The bloodied Haida man, still possessed by the spirit of the mountain lion, over shadowing all of his other totems at that moment walked steadily toward Flaming Angel while Cowboy and the thug wrestled near the far wall of the alley.




The heavy steel door was just sealing behind Ayana, Kekoa and the injured Morgan when a gust of wind seeped through the crack and Wraith materialized beside them. He was breathing heavily as if he had just a marathon, and in fact traveling at high speeds in his wind form could be just as taxing.

"Quickly, let's get her to the lab." He instructed.

Bronze Devil came around the corner out of the surveillance room and gave the injured girl on her invisible gurney a concerned look. He followed them down the aisle to the lab but from there, Wraith took the girl and asked them all to stay out while he dealt with the girls injuries. Before he closed the door, however, he stopped and turned with the girl in his arms. "It felt good to be part of a team again." he told Seizure and Kekoa, then he smiled and stepped back as the automatic door slid shut.

Wraith quickly then carried Morgan into the medical section of the lab and laid her on a gurney. From a cabinet he obtained a vial and syringe and filled it with the contents. Morgan was thankfully still unconscious, and as he administered the Demerol she'd stay out for the duration of the procedure.

Toril then, removed his costume and mask, which was part of the reason he didn't want anyone around. He still felt it was better if no one knew his face and he double sure Morgan was completely out cold for that reason. He put on his gown and scrubbed up for the operations that he was about to perform then wheeled the girl in to the operating room and lifted her onto the operating table. Thankfully, they had a pretty high tech set up, including a device that just about took the place of an anesthetician so he wouldn't have to worry about keeping any eye on her vital signs while soloing the surgical procedures.

When Toril was content that her pulse rate was steady, he proceeded and after an hour he was content that he could do all that he was able for the girl. He was pleased, how everything went and fighting off the infection would only be a matter of time, but just how long was entirely up to Morgan. The antibiotics would do their thing but she had want to get better in order to improve at a steady rate.

Toril wheeled, Morgan into the adjacent recovery room and re-calibrated her saturation and heart rate monitors. Everything seemed normal, and it would be a few hours before she woke up so he left the room and put his costume and mask back on and went out into the common area to tell everyone the good news.

Allie was leaning against her truck when she saw Totem walking towards and he didn't look too happy and from the way he was glaring at her, she was the one he wasn't happy with. She wasn't sure why, but something told her she was about to find out.

When he got to her, she noticed his eyes were still the color of whatever animal he was still using and wondered if he'd turn on her comletely, after all she didn't know either one of them very well. That was when it hit her on why he may be upset with her. She had interfered in a fight that wasn't hers. She gave herself a mental slap as her face showed that she'd come to the conclusion on her own and it was the right one. Sometimes, she could be such an idiot and now was one of those times. Just as Totem reached her, Allie held out her hand to stop him from coming any closer, speaking before he could.

"I know....I know....It just dawned on me and I'm sorry. I interfered in something that wasn't mine to interfere in. I'm sorry, Totem. Sometimes I don't think, the wanting to help overriding my common sense."

She stood there, looking at him, hoping that he would forgive her, for she knew that he didn't seem to care for, although for the life of her, she didn't know why.

"I'll get in my truck, shut the door and wait. No more interference from me. Tap on the window when you guys are done."

Yelena roamed the streets of Chicago for a few hours after she left Allie’s apartment. Where she was going to go, she wasn’t exactly sure. Looking skyward as she saw a jumbo jet coming in for a landing at the airport, she wished she had the ability to fly. She’d reach for the open sky and not come down until she found a desolate piece of ground in the middle of no where.

As Yelena roamed around she realized just how defunct the human race really was. Young girls walking the streets selling their bodies to who ever came along and flashed the cash. Young boys as well. Dope fiends finding darken stoops and shadows to light up their pipes for their next high. Sirens blaring all over the city and echoing off the walls of the buildings that made up the concrete jungle.

Several times she was approached by men, and women, who thought she was a prostitute and only after glaring at them with a hateful look and letting the outer fringes of her metallic, gold eyes shine did they leave her alone. She HAD to get out of the city and into a more open area. And there was only one place she could think of to do that.

She’d only been their once and while Yelena couldn’t remember how to get their, she knew she wouldn’t be turned away once she arrived. Not if the people that had been there when she was back then were still around. As the sky started getting lighter in the East, Yelena knew what she had to do.

With her mind made up, Yelena pulled out the ear bud communicator device and fit it to her ear. As she walked towards the commotion of emergency vehicles and government operatives near the Green Street base, she keyed the device and talked to the person on the other end she knew would keep her plans secret.

“Zoe…..I need to get to bike in warehouse on other side of Green Street. Guide me through sewer tunnels, da?”

The unemotional voice on the other end broke the silence and began guiding Yelena through the tunnels towards the warehouse where the Hyabusa was housed with the other vehicles after Yelena made sure she morphed into her true form. Knowing the authorities were swarming the place like flies on a carcass but also knowing she had to get the bike out of there. It was the only way she’d be able to make the trip. But in her true form, her skin didn’t give off a heat signature like the others. In fact, it was almost impossible to get a heat signature reading from her in her true form. Her skin was so thick it held the heat within her.

When she reached the warehouse the bike was stowed away in, she could hear the helicopters buzzing over head, hear the loud speakers and radio communications taking place and even hear the shouts of the officers and agents sweeping the area for signs of meta’s. It was dangerous for her to be here but there really was no other way.

Hearing Zoe’s voice in her ear, she quickly got on the bike and guided it silently through the warehouse to the large freight elevator that led to the lower level. All the while she prayed no one heard the machine running or found her. Zoe seemed to know what she was thinking because her monotoned voice came through the ear piece telling Yelena she had taken care of scrambling their equipment while she was in the elevator. Checking all directions, Yelena walked the bike out of the elevator, still not starting it up, then to a secret door Zoe guided her to. When Yelena punched in found the device Zoe told her about, she heard the concrete move aside and showed her the sewer tunnels. Quickly pushing the bike into the tunnels, Yelena found the device on the other side that allowed the concrete door to close up once more.

Once again with Zoe’s help, the shape shifter pushed the bike through a series of tunnels until she was well out of range of RAID and any other government authority. Morphing into her normal self in a black leather riding suit, Yelena straddled the bike and fired up the engine. As she waited for the motor to warm up, she talked to Zoe.

After a few moments, Yelena put the helmet Zoe had programmed especially for her on her head and strapped it in place. With a quick check behind her, Yelena put the bike in gear and began to slowly make her way out of the tunnels using the route Zoe programmed in for her. On the southwest side of Chicago, just as the sunlight was starting to streak across the sky turning the once inky blackness into brilliant shades of orange, amber and yellow, Yelena Petrokovich, also known as The Chameleon was riding southwest on a black motorcycle. Where she was bound was known only to her and two other people, one of which didn’t know yet but would soon enough. And that’s exactly the way she wanted it to be.