Is death really the end?

[Shadowe]

{Voice mail sent via 351 to all Paragon City Fletched Alliance members, from Sam Huntington}

Ahem. Hey there, folks. Look, I'm sorry I haven't been around much recently, but, well, there have been a few things occupying my time. I'll get to that in a minute.

Firstly, though, I wanted to warn you that I am going to have to make an official announcement of Richard's death before the end of this week. I hope that he's not dead, but the board of directors are starting to ask awkward questions, and I can't keep brushing them off. And I have a death certificate. I really wish I didn't. It makes it seem so final...

Silence for several seconds.

He's not dead. He can't be.

Please, don't let him be dead.

Silence for several seconds.

Well, with keeping Viessa's mind shielded, and worry about Richard, I just wanted you to know why I've not been around much recently. Oh, and that psychic net thing that's blanketing the city. That's been screwing me up a bit.

So... well... that's about it from me. I hope to have better news for you soon.

See you all.

...

...

...

{Addendum to previous communication, sent by Helena Huntington}

Hey, FA!

Look, I know this is a bit of a pants situation, but Mistress Samantha is in a bit of a wierd state right now. I'm giving her a very mild sedative dose with her meals, to help calm her down. It seems to be working, mostly.

I just wanted you all to know that there is some information that I have available to me that Mistress Samantha does not. I don't like not telling her, but I do not want her running off in her current emotional turmoil.

If anyone is interested, you know how to contact me, and 351 and I have our secure line open - he's such a gentleman.

Speak to you all soon, Mistress Kit and the other Misses and Misters of the FA.

[Shadowe]

{A very expensive yacht, moored off the coast of Sharkshead Isle, Monday November 5, 2007, Approx 8.30am}

Richard woke from a dreamy stupor, rubbing his eyes. He wasn't surprised that he found himself lying alone. It was too much to expect, really.

He reached over to the table beside the bed and strapped his watch to his wrist, tapping out a seemingly random pattern on the glass face. A screen swung down from the ceiling and began to show news broadcasts, while a small hologram flickered to life next to the washstand, showing the yacht and three other vessels nearby, with threat indexes allocated to each. Safe, for now.

Stripping his shorts off, he drifted into the en-suite bathroom and showered. He felt uncomfortable with what he was becoming. He had ordered a demon to bite off a man's thumb, for Heaven's sake! In a pique of anger, certainly, but was that the sort of thing that he should be doing? He was one of the good guys. But out here... out here you had to learn to at least act like you were willing to kill. Even if you aren't.

Stepping from the shower, he scrubbed his hair dry and finished watching the news. Nothing unusual, even on the international scene.

"Autopilot. Standard naval rules, transition to mooring." The boat roared to life immediately, and the gentle rocking shifted into a steady swaying as the vessel began to move under its own control. As it moved, Richard dressed in the comfortable leather and cloth of Rich Hunter, his 'secret' identity in the Rogue Isles. He checked the manequin in the teleport chamber, ensuring that the leather-look combat suit was in place. And then he went on deck.

The wind howled around him, ruffling his still-damp hair, and a spray of salt water forced him to squint. He could see the coast ahead, and make out the shape of the large container ships that sat, fat and heavy, in the water at the docks.

He pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket, punched in a security code, and dialed a number in Paragon. An answering machine. Excellent.

"I know that you know. Thank you for your help." He pushed the call end button and stood there for a long while, tapping the phone against his bottom lip, lost in thought.

A letter sat on the desk, with a list of addresses on it. All places that Andrew had arranged shipments of arms to. All places that needed eliminating. One stood out among the rest. Richard knew that address. It was a Longbow base, and that meant that he was going to be facing off against large numbers of people who thought he was a villain. Again. It was galling to find himself in this position, but he could only suppose that the commanders of the base had been subverted by Andrew. Either that, or they were renegades, working for him willingly.

Scrubbing a hand across his face, he watched as the boat slid into its mooring, and he leapt to the dockside, tying the boat off with a sure and practiced hand. Thank goodness for intelligent computers and Infra Red proximity sensors, enabling him to do the task in the complete confidence that the boat would keep station while he worked.

With the boat secure, he pulled his phone out once more and tapped in a code. The door to the boat locked, and armoured shutters slid into place over the portholes. A blinking light next to the door indicated that the state-of-the-art defense system was online and under computer control. And, in case anyone thought someone had been foolish to leave a $20,000,000 yacht moored up unattended, a turret, mounting surface-to-air missiles, machine guns, laser cannon and the biggest Quantum gun he could buy, popped from a hatch in the roof, and began to swing menacingly from side to side.

A satisfied smirk crossed his face for a moment, and he hit one of his speeddials.

"Cyder? It's Rich. I need you. ... No, my dear, not right now. Save that for later. I'll bring the beers, if you bring your lovely self. Right now I need to hit a Longbow base. ... Yes, I'll be calling Jess - you don't think I'd leave her out of it, do you? She'd complain that you and I were having all the fun, and I'd have to... well, I'm sure you can guess. Something else to save for later, anyway. ... Hmm? By all means, bring the boys along. And tell Scarpa to stop slacking off - there's a time and a place to call his mistress, and when you're surrounded by Warriors isn't it! Anyway, I have a plan of this base, so I know what we're letting ourselves in for. I'll send you a fax, if you want. Okay, as soon as I hang up."

He paused, listening for a long minute, and a slow flush crept across his face.

"Later, my dear. Business before pleasure. And this can't wait much longer. I'll send you the coordinates in a minute. Take care until I see you. Goodbye, my dear."

He stood, looking out to sea for a several minutes, biting his bottom lip, a tiny smile and a feeling of warmth suffusing him. Shaking himself from his reverie, he accessed a data file held on his PDA and transferred it as a fax to Cyder, then sent an email to her with the coordinates of the Longbow base, and two times, separated by half an hour. Then he hit another speeddial.

"Ah, Jess. I'm not disturbing you, am I? Yes, it's me. ... No, of course not! Don't be silly, my dear. ... No, honestly. I understand. No, I don't regret it. I hope that you don't, either. ... Good. Look, the reason I called. I need your help again. I'm sorry to keep... ... My dear lady, if I didn't want your company, I wouldn't be asking to spend time with you. Please, my dear. Trust me on this. I need your help. I want you to be here. ... Yes, Cy will be there, as well. ... Thank you, my dear. I'll send you the location once we're off the phone."

There was a long pause, and an observer would have noted that he seemed to become more uncomfortable the longer it went on.

"Ahem. Honestly? Yes. Yes, I would. But later, my dear. After. It would perhaps be a tad too much of a distraction, otherwise. ... Yes, I promise. I'll see you soon. Goodbye."

Hanging up the phone, he again smiled.

"I'm getting closer, Andrew. You'd better start watching your back."

*****

{Huntington Manor, Just outside Paragon City, Monday November 5, 2007, Approx 10.00am}

"Right. That's everything sorted. Tomorrow I'm heading out. Are you okay with things, Helena?" Samantha Huntington's stern voice rang out clearly in Richard's study.

"Yes, Mistress Samantha. Security is clean, and all normal protocols are in place. I am ready." The cheerful voice of the house-AI came from all directions at once, and was a little disconcerting to the uninitiated.

"Good. Well, I just need to check whether there are any more little details in the lives of the children that I need to sort out, and then I'll be good to go." She sighed heavily. "Damnit, I'm only a few years older than Kelly and Vie - yet I'm expected to be the voice of wisdom. Well, heavy lies the burden of responsibility. And if I don't do it, no one else will."

On reflection, she considered, she was quite happy with her role as surrogate mother to the rest of the Alliance. It was something she fell into easily enough. At least her life was relatively peaceful right now, and she didn't need a shoulder to cry on.

Well, for the next few days she was going to commuting to the Rogue Isles, and that would make it a little tricky for people to get hold of her. Ah, well. Life is full of these little problems.

*****

{A hidden location, Somewhere in the Rogue Isles, Monday November 5, 2007, Approx Noon}

The muscular blond man cursed loudly. "What the FUCK is happening? Who's doing this!? Some bastard is trying to ruin my work, and there's NO clue as to who or what it is! And now they took out the damned Warrior crew! They know about my warehouse! If they get in there, there are too many damn clues as to what's going on!"

He turned to the two men with him. "Miles, Christian. Be good little boys and get down to the warehouse and start evacuating the place. Fast. I want all the shipments delivered NOW. And send the signal to prepare. I want the Independence Port phase of the operation completed by midnight, and tomorrow we start moving bodies into the city."

The two men nodded and moved out of the room swiftly, muttering to each other as they went.

Andrew cursed some more, and then forced himself to calm down. The operation couldn't be ruined this late on. There were too many irons in the fire. Nothing could stop it going ahead. Nothing...

[Shadowe]

{The Freedom Phalanx Base, Paragon City, Friday 9 November 2007, Approx 10.00am}

Jessica Duncan stood before her old friend, cursing roundly - something that would surprise most people who knew her, but which the man in front of her had seen several times in the past.

"It was our largest facility on Sharkshead, Marcus! And these... scum! ... took it out inside an hour! And to cap it all off, take a quick look at what the only surviving video camera stored." She turned, her usual smiling face fixed in a grimace of frustration. She picked up a remote control from the desk next to her, and pressed a button. On the wall next to her, a large screen flickered to life, showing a scene of utter chaos. Dozens of Longbow agents lay on the floor and across consoles, battered and bleeding. The fight was still ongoing in one corner, and maybe nine or ten foes faced off against a rapidly dwindling supply of red- and white-clad Longbow troops. The video lasted for perhaps thirty seconds, during which the violence was vicious and intense.

Jessica let it play through once, then turned to once again face the imposing man with her. "Did you see?" The other shook his head.

"I'm not sure what you're expecting me to see. It looks like a group of villains found your base and took it out. These things happen." His almost passionless voice sounded confused, and Jessica bemoaned - for perhaps the thousandth time - his continued inability to think creatively.

She rapidly cycled through the recording, and paused it at a particular point. "This woman has been identified as one 'Cyder'. Member of the EVIL Alliance, possible affiliation with the Fletched Alliance. This woman has been identified as Jessika Karde, currently lover to the senior Fletched Alliance member Veskit - I'm sure you remember him from that time..." She paused and coughed at the expression on his face. "Anyway, this we have a seventy-six percent match against a young woman called Chlorr, currently also lover to the senior Fletched Alliance member Veskit. We have no idea who the big guy is - he must be new - but take a look at this man."

The image showed a single figure discharging a spiraling stream of energy against the longbow. He wore a heavy cowl, and was clothed entirely in tight-fitting leather, cinched to him by dozens of dull-grey buckles. His features were completely hidden, but even Marcus Cole, better known to the world as Statesman, recognised the costume design.

"But... he..."

Ms. Liberty nodded sharply. "Yeah, he's meant to be dead. But the chances are that my biggest base on Sharkshead Isle just got taken down by none other than the late Richard Huntington, also known as Shadowe, Commander of the Warriors of Darkness and close associate to more members of the Fletched Alliance than we'd care to think about."

[Shadowe]

{Mercy Island, Friday 9 November 2007, Approx 3.00pm}

Operative Selden watched the woman approach him, and hefted his energy mace. Some young whippersnapper who had dreams of making it big in the Isles, wearing a skimpy outfit and trying to look confident. Time to make life difficult for her. He drew in a deep breath and called out to her.

"Hey, you! Yeah, you in the leather. C'mere." He gestured with his mace to a spot on the floor in front of him, and enjoyed the show as she tried to look nonchalant as she moved toward him. Her gaze met his, and he could see the twinge of fear in her eyes, but was impressed that she kept her head held high. She was in her mid-twenties, with shoulder-length red hair - dyed, no doubt - and was wearing next to nothing on her top, and a pair of brand-new, tight-fitting brown leather trousers.

"Yes?" She managed to keep an impressively steady voice, and managed to muster a glare at him. He smirked to himself, knowing that it was all a show, and that she was really feeling nervous about being singled out.

"What's your business here?" he demanded. She looked at him, considering, her eyes studying him intently from his shiny boots to his rugged face. As she looked at him, her stance changed, resting one hand on a thingyed hip, and she took a deep breath, which drew his attention to her chest.

"Just that. My business." She turned sharply and walked away from him, hips swaying seductively, and drawing the eyes of several men in the immediate vicinity. A toss of her head, to flick her hair back over her shoulder, afforded her a look at Selden's stunned expression, and she let him see her confident smirk. He shook himself, recovering from his surprise, and raised his mace, his voice hardening to a low growl to let her know that he meant business.

"Stop right there, girl. Right now." He stepped toward her, and a grimacing smirk twisted his features as she kept walking. "Okay, you asked for it." He jogged forward a couple of paces, raised his weapon to strike, and...

A blast of energy rippled through him, almost driving him to his knees, and he stared in shocked horror as she slowly turned on the spot to face him, then closed her eyes and tilted her head to one side.

"Well, Operative Selden - or do you prefer Bob? - it seems we have a slight problem. You want to bully me, and I don't like being bullied. So, here's the deal. You stop attacking me, and I let you just take a trip to the crappy hospital you have here."

Selden grimaced, nausea rippling through him, his eyes becoming unfocused. "Don't need... hospital, bitch."

She looked at him with cold eyes. "You do now." Her mind tore into his with a ferocity that was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, and Bob Selden collapsed to the floor, a gibbering wreck.

A terrified citizen rushed to Selden's side, either to steal his wallet, or to check his condition, and the woman didn't care. The young man was literally shaking with fear as he kept glancing at her. She looked back at him passionlessly.

"Wh-who... who are you?"

The woman smiled at him and turned away. As she walked, she projected her answer directly into his head.

Sugar, they call me Mindlight.

[Shadowe]

{Pocket-D, 11 November 2007, approx 11.30pm}

Miles sat next to the pretty little thing he was trying to take home, in the red bar of Pocket-D. He was telling her all sorts of things that he probably shouldn't, but that was something to worry about in the morning. Right now, she was getting drunk, he was getting kissed, and she seemed honestly fascinated by what he had to say.

"So, anyway, right, the Boss is getting all these folks to do stuff for him, and we got about fifteen different lots of 'em tucked away in Paragon already. Seems the rest of 'em'll be heading over this week. The Boss is gettin' all sorts of upset that someone's takin' out the groups he's got stashed away in the Isles."

His attention was diverted when she giggled, finished her half-full glass of wine in one swift move, and hopped up to straddle him, kissing him with complete abandon. Miles noticed a member of the bar staff watching, and held his hands up to show his inability to cope with such an assault, shrugged, and returned the kiss. After a few minutes, the girl broke free, again giggling - that was the biggest problem with her, as far as Miles could see, the constant giggling - and threw her head back.

"God, you're so cute! So, lemme get this straight, ya? Your boss is some big-wig who's going to be all kinds of naughty in Paragon City soon, and he's recruiting?" Miles nodded that her understanding was correct, his eyes thoroughly distracted by the low cut of her top, inches from his nose. "So, like, is he taking on people with super-powers 'n' stuff? You know, like those stuck-up snobs in the Freedom Phalanx?" Again Miles nodded, eyes fixed to her decolletage. "Well, why don't he try to find this guy I heard about? Some feller blew up a Longbow base last week - I heard everyone inside was killed, but the brass at the Longbow are keeping it all hush-hush."

Miles chuckled, and leaned his head forward fractionally for a better look. "Yeah, that sounds like just the sort of guy the Boss is looking for."

She giggled again, and wiggled her chest. "Well, silly, you should tell him to find that guy. If he's into the cold, ruthless types, this Richard Huntington is probably right up his..." She stopped when Miles' hand suddenly gripped her throat.

"Say that name again."

"R-Rich-ard H-Hunting-ton."

Unthinking, Miles tossed her off his lap, struggling to reach his feet. The Boss needed to hear this. The Boss needed to hear this NOW. Staggering, he moved toward the lifts that would take him to the portals leading to the Rogue Isles. If Huntington was still alive... Oh, the Boss wasn't going to be happy.

[Shadowe]

{Paragon News, Channel 6, 19 November 2007, Approx 2.00pm}

"This is John Harkness, reporting for Channel 6 News. Earlier today there was an horrific attack by the Council on Simmonds High School. The Council were driven away from their assault by the timely intervention of members of the Super Hero group known as The Fletched Alliance, but not before the tragedy of an undisclosed number of casualties. So far no less than ten body-bags have passed me since I arrived, and more are being taken into the library, where the massacre seems to have taken place. The school has been closed for the day..."

<Click!>

{Eye-in-the-Sky Racing News, Channel 14}

"Today's Alternative Dirt Track Racing competition at Paragon's recently constructed Omega Memorial Stadium was witness to an unprecedented scene - Sky Raiders firing on the drivers! Here's some footage we got before we had to flee the scene..."

The image shifts to a slightly shaking aerial shot of the twisting racecourse. Two cars were jockeying for first place and had slipped out of the bed coming out of a chicane, and were beginning to turn into the long right-hand sweepeing turn ahead, kicking up clouds of dust and gravel. A streak of smoke slammed into the ground to the right of the lead car, which bucked in the air and span in a mad airborne twist before slamming into the tyre-wall on its roof. Emergency crews immediately began to run toward it when a second missile tore into the ground ahead of the second place driver. That car also rolled, and the driver emerged, crawling on her knees. Medics dashed toward her, and the voice of the helicopter pilot yelped.

"Raiders! We're under attack! I'm getting us out of here!"

The camera remained focused on the rapidly shrinking image as the pilot fled the scene. Barely visible was the sight of a burst of flame before the screen went blank.

<Click!>

{NBN, Cable Channel 476}

"Local residents were stunned today by the sudden and vicious attack on an apartment building by..."

<Click!>

{KTRI News, Pirate Broadcast}

"Yeah, it sounded like thar wuz a gunfight goin' on under mah feet. Ah dunno whut wuz hap'nin', an' ah sure weren't gonna hang around 'n' find out."

<Click!>

Andrew Martin stared at the television screen before turning to face Christian, a slow, cruel smile forming on his lips.

"Looks like it's working, Chris. Step up the pace. Send in the big guns."

He turned once more, then leered over his shoulder. "And send in the new girl. I want to celebrate, and I think she'll do nicely. And... have one yourself. I've got plenty." He took a long swallow of beer, and laughed.

"Revenge is sweet. Killing Dicky's friends is even sweeter. Oh, this is going to be fun!"

[Shadowe]

{An undisclosed location in Paragon City, 17 December 2007, approx 2.00pm}

Andrew Martin stretched languidly and pushed the young brunette away from him. He sensed her fear and hatred and shame, but it was laughably disguised by the look of rapt adoration she turned on him.

He picked up the phone beside the bed and punched in a three-digit number. "Miles? Yeah, I had a bit of a late night. You know how it is. The latest? Of course! And would you believe she's part of some super-secret assassin's guild called the Knives of Artemis. Artemis. Greek goddess. Hated men, kind to animals. A huntress. Yes, I know that doesn't make a lot of sense. She's going to be my next little toy to use against a certain annoying superhero. She really doesn't like me one little bit, but she can't help herself now, the poor little dear." As he spoke he ran an almost tender hand across the girl's cheek, smiling as she flinched away from him, then chuckling as he sent a tendril of thought into her mind and stimulated her pleasure-centres all at once, enjoying the whimper that escaped her lips as she fought against him.

"I need more strikes. I need to catch the damned Alliance with their pants down. We failed before, but I think I was trying to be too cute. So now we just ramp up the pressure a little each day. And then when they're all too busy to know what time of day it is... Little Kara here will strike."

He hung up the phone and turned his gaze on the terrified woman lying beside him.

"Won't that be fun, Kara? You get to kill someone. And then you get to come back here and we can play some more."

In the back of his mind he laughed at the sound of her mental scream.

[Shadowe]

{Founder's Falls, December 18 2007, Approx 11.30am}

Richard gazed into the dark swirling liquid as it circled within the large mug in front of him, eyes lowered, but mind racing. If he concentrated hard enough, he'd discovered, he could feel so many things it was as if he was viewing the entire universe. He could sense the energies that a Circle of Thorns mage was channeling in the courtyard on the other side of the building, he could feel electricity racing under the streets, into all the rooms in the buildings, and then change into heat and light and other forms of energy. And he could feel the battery of the mobile telephone that his companion had tucked into a jacket pocket, likewise the pager and the PDA.

He picked up the spoon and once again stirred the cup of coffee, lifting his head to look at the young woman on the other side of the table.

"So, what made you come over?" A hint of suspicion clouded his voice, but she merely looked at him with a smile, plainly designed to put him at his ease and disarm him.

"Doctor Huntington, let me put it this way. You are a successful businessman, a scientist, a multi-billionaire and a superhero. These are the things that everyone in the world knows - heck, your page on Wikipedia has all that in the first paragraph. You live in a state-of-the-art, computer-controlled mansion where you live with your sister and a transient population of friends. You have a registered Artificial Intelligence unit to manage your affairs, and quite frankly it's not working. What you need is a dedicated, full-time, capable human assistant to help out. It may be rude, it may be ballsy, and it may piss you off beyond measure, but I can see that you need my services, so I thought it would be a good idea to present myself to you." She looked at him over the rim of her glasses, and he took a moment to study her.

Brown hair tied back in a severe ponytail, tastefully applied makeup and a slightly-pouting mouth made looking at her face decidedly pleasant. She wore what Americans would call a 'pant-suit' - though he would never be able to say that with a straight face - in slate-grey, with a white blouse underneath. Her black shoes were polished to a military shine, and he appreciated the practicality of minimal heels in a part of the city where she was as likely to be kidnapped by psychotic mages as she was to be able to walk anywhere safely. Her voice was soft, but her words slightly clipped - she was plainly trying to impress him with her received pronunciation, and it was working, he realised with a private smirk.

She certainly pushed all his buttons in the right way - plain-spoken, pretty and professional. About the only thing that whoever had set her on him had got wrong was that she wasn't blonde. He assumed that was so that he wouldn't be overly suspicious of her, and was pleased that it hadn't worked.

He looked again at the CV - resume, he told himself - which was certainly impressive, and detailed, and almost certainly faked. As they had walked here from the car, Helena had assessed the woman's movements and actions, and had assigned her a 3.76 Threat Index, which implied that she was about as lethal as a madman on a rooftop armed with a sniper rifle.

"Well, Miss Sloane," he began, giving her his version of a 'personal, just-for-you' smile. "Everything here seems to be in order. Given the nature of the role you've created for yourself, I'll need you to sign a non-disclosure agreement, the Official Secrets Act - making you subject to some laws of the United Kingdom - and under US law you will be particularly subject to various Acts of Congress dealing with military procurement and research projects, as well as a whole slew of the same relating to industrial business." She returned his smile slightly, but met his gaze unflinchingly.

"That is perfectly understandable, Doctor Huntington, and I have no problem complying with that."

He pursed his lips in consideration before nodding briefly. "Well, Miss Sloane, it looks like you're hired. You'll officially start in the New Year, but if you want to, you'll be welcome to see how things in my life operate between now and then."

He watched as her smile brightened, and she extended her hand to him. He took it, raised it to his lips and kissed the back of it, smiling at her with twinkling eyes, and was rewarded with a slight blush and the extraordinarily delightful sight of her daintily biting her bottom lip as her breath caught in her throat.

Her breathy voice purred out to him with an undertone of barely supressed excitement. "Please, Doctor Huntington, call me Kara." A tingle ran down his spine as she spoke, and he found himself unconsciously responding to the unspoken invitation that accompanied the verbal one, before taking himself to task for his weakness. You're not seventeen any more, he reminded himself. Pretty girls smile all the time, and it doesn't mean anything. Besides, she's a spy. Never forget that, Huntington.

"Of course, my dear. And you must call me Richard."

[Shadowe]

{Huntington Manor, 19 December 2007, Approx 8.30am}

Kara Sloane sat in the comfortable leather lounge chair and stared at the bookshelves, a glass of Pimms clutched protectively to her bosom. Her eyes were hooded, and an almost-grimace of distaste contorting her features.

He's a nice man, really. At least as men go. Why does... he... want him hurt like this? My sisters would murder me if they knew what was going on, here. I've had to lie to them, to tell them that this is just a job, because I can't bring myself round to telling them the truth, thanks to the control he is exerting on my mind.

Her thoughts snapped abruptly back to the present when she heard a footstep on the hardwood floor outside the sitting room. Her hand snaked under her jacket, reaching into the concealed pocket for a handful of caltrops as she twisted in her seat. The door handle turned, the door opened on silent hinges, and a moment later a shapely leg, followed by a shapely body barely encased in a silk and lace dress that wouldn't look out of place in a lingerie shop window. A shock of red hair framed a smiling face that bore a surprisingly striking resemblance to that of the man who purportedly employed her.

"Hey, sugar. You must be Kara, right?" Kara's mind ran through everything she had learned about this woman. Samantha Huntington, aged 24, a multi-billionaire like her brother, super-hero, member of the controversial supergroup the Fletched Alliance, no current romantic entanglements, though that was pretty damn recent, and... Oh, FUCK! She's psychic!

Kara tried to speak with a steady, calm voice, and was mostly successful. "That's right, Miss Huntington. Your brother kindly hired me to handle his affairs." She felt a tickling sensation inside her head, and blinked, but was surprised when the probe seemed to slide off.

"Call me Sam, Kara. Everyone else does. Well, since you're going to be kicking about the place for a while, we'd better get to know each other a little better - Dicky's a bit of a handful at times, and you'll find it helps to have someone to moan to about him." Sam slid into one of the other chairs, hiking her legs up so that she was curled up comfortably.

* * * * *

{Some hours later}

"...and then he tripped over, and dropped a plate of food down her dress!" Sam's laughter rippled throughout the room, accompanied by Kara's slightly more restrained giggles.

"What did he do then?" Kara asked, trying not to spill her fifth glass of Pimms as her shoulders shook.

A male voice spoke from the doorway. "Well, what else could I do? I offered - with the utmost courtesy and respect, of course - to help her get the food back out."

Kara nearly choked as she looked into the laughing face of her employer, and felt herself beginning the leap that would end with her standing to attention. She recovered the only way possible under the circumstances... and crashed to the floor. Richard darted to her side in an instant, crossing the intervening space faster than her eyes could follow, and she allowed him to help her to her feet. He smiled at her, and gestured to the muscular man standing in the doorway with a huge grin on his face.

"Charles and I are grabbing a bite to eat before we pop over to the lab for the afternoon. Would you ladies care to join us?"

Kara studied the dark-haired Charles as the quartet strolled down the corridor toward the spacious kitchen, examining him as she had examined Richard, Brian and Sam. As she would examine any other potential target.

[corpos]

<<Huntington Technologies Weapons R&D Department>>
20th December, 19:45

Charles looked around the lab bleary-eyed, his focus waving in and out through tiredness.
Looking at his watch and spotting the date as well as the time, he realised he'd been there
for over 3 days solidly working apart from a brief lunch with Richard, his new assistant, Kara,
and Sam.

"OK people," he said in his deep booming tones, "it's getting late and we've been working on
this damned glitch for days now. As much as we all know how important it is to get completed
asap we're only gonna start making mistakes if we don't rest. Go home, get some sleep and we
can come back refreshed with new eyes tomorrow. Me, I'm off to the chalet to see if I can get
our boss to buy me a drink!"

The lab team looked even more tired than Charles and most started moving off to the doors.
"You too, Bryan. We ALL need to rest, especially my favourite workaholic! Come on, get out
of here!"

Bryan, a slim bespectacled senior analyst stretched and looked up at Charles weary face with
a glow in his eyes. "OK, ok.... just five more minutes. I don't want to lose the data I've
gathered just because I want to go home."

Smiling to himself, Charles headed to the doors. Looking back, he said, "OK, but five minutes
ONLY. I want you here in top condition tomorrow. I know we're close, but I don't want to go
backwards because we're too tired to see mistakes. Goodnight, Bryan. Sleep well!"

<<An hour later, Swiss Chalet, Pocket D>>

Charles sat on the edge of a sofa, watching Richard, Ling, Cyder and Sara - all of whom he'd
just been introduced to. Sipping on his glass of Jack Daniels, he began to relax feeling that
warm glow that only good bourbon could supply. A smile spread across his face as Richard made
another "Richard" comment. Suddenly, he looked up in shock, a look of despair and fear wiping
away the grin. Standing up swiftly and looking to Richard, he quickly blurted out, "I'm really
sorry, I've gotta go. Now. Something's come up at the lab."

Rushing off, he barely caught Richard's concerned question. If what he thought had happened
was right, he'd be giving Richard the bad news later anyway. Speeding off to the lab, he thought
over the message he'd had relayed to him by Helena. "Master Charles, I have to inform you that
there has been an accident at the laboratory you've been working in. Initial reports suggest
that there is one fatality and quite some collateral damage."

Pushing himself faster and faster, he seemed a blur to the Paragon citizens he passed. "Oh god,
please let it be wrong" was his only thought....

[Shadowe]

{Galaxy City, Near Constellation Row, Monday 7 January 2008, Approx 9.15am}

"Alright, ship lots 12 through 18 to Peregrine Island and set up a delivery to Portal Corp. They have the storage space that we don't." Richard Huntington strolled casually down the street, ignoring the stares of the passers by who bustled along wrapped in their winter jackets while he was there in a thin cotton T-shirt.

Glancing to the left he crossed the street, heading toward the shop fronts that faced onto the parkland. The War Walls towered over the buildings, and Richard looked up at them with something approaching awe. He faintly heard his name being called over the whistling of the biting wind, and he said goodbye to the secretary he was speaking to on the phone. He tapped a code into the keypad of the phone, folded it closed and tucked it away in his pocket. A 3-dimensional overlay appeared on the lenses of his sunglasses, and he immediately spotted the familiar figure of his personal assistant, Kara, running along the street after him. He slowed his pace to give her a chance to catch up.

She was waving a sheaf of papers as she scurried along, looking like nothing more than a harried office-worker, and she was no more than fourty feet from him when he reached into his pocket for the key to his townhouse flat.

Time seemed to slow as he watched the hand holding the key suddenly become encased in hardened body-armour. The familiar weight of his battle-suit settled around him in an instant, and he twisted his head frantically as the visor displays came online and updated.

Then the blast-wave hit.

Tonnes of bricks and concrete slammed into him, glass shattered and sprayed across the street, carving through pedestrians like razors. A dog yelped in anguish as its master collapsed to the floor where a flying length of wood had pierced his skull. Children screamed in terror, and adults howled in anguish or pain. A rolling ball of smoke and flame burst from the roof of the building as Richard, now in the familiar combat garb of the hero Shadowe, struggled to regain his senses.

Dust swirled around him in clouds that would choke someone without breathing apparatus. Pebbles cascaded down as he struggled to his feet, and he critically examined the damage to his battle-suit, noting the dents and creases that meant it would need to be replaced. Luckily the sensor suite was still online, and the thermal imaging showed several fires nearby, as well as the rapidly cooling bodies of a frighteningly large number of victims of the explosion. He began to pick his way carefully through the rubble, and was surprised to notice Kara scrambling over the debris to reach his side.

"Get out of here, Kara. It's too dangerous. Wait for the fire service, and..." He paused as a bloom of heat revealed itself, and he grabbed her roughly, hurling her the other way. "GAS MAIN!" A second explosion rocked the world and he hurled himself as fast as he dared away from the ruined building.

"Get your hands off me!" Kara's scream in his ear was muffled by the roar behind him as a pillar of flame errupted into the air, showering him with a fresh rain of rubble. He swooped low and released her on the grass in the park, then twisted in midair and flung himself back toward the conflagration. He had to close the gas leak before the wind spread the flames to nearby buildings. Desperately, ignoring the searing agony as the raging flames licked at him, he forced himself further and further into the inferno. His armour started to melt around him as the intense heat raged against it, but still he pushed on. Too many people had already died. He had to stop this madness.

After what seemed like hours he found himself in the basement, and he could see the twisted pipe that was the gas main, hear the dull roar as the gas escaped from a huge rent in it, and could see the sheet of flame erupting blue from it. Grimacing against the pain he staggered toward it, gripped the pipe as well as he could in hands that bore only stumps where his fingers had once been, and squeezed with all his might.

The metal crumpled under the pressure, and the leak subsided. His breathing ragged, he removed his helmet and stood there, shaking, gasping in the cloy air. The sounds of people overhead - undoubtedly the firemen who had been called - made him turn and start to call out to them, and then he saw it.

A dull grey block affixed to the ceiling, wires protruding from it, leading to half a dozen similar blocks affixed to the supporting foundations, and a timer counting down the seconds. Three left.

Richard closed his eyes and prayed.

[Ves]

Cap Au Diable : 05: 00

“Clear!”
“Clear!”
The call circuited quickly around the room as Cyder and her team holstered their weapons and went about various personal habits like whispering quiet prayers of thanks to whichever higher power they happened to believe in this week, passing bundles of dollar bills around to settle random wagers and a little light hearted, mocking banter with the new guy. Then Cy let out a sharp whistle and started her usual exit plan speech.

“Botchet, I want you, the Major and Crisp’in to head back the way we came, find the control room for this place, and shut that damned alarm siren off, it’s drowning out my music. Max, you and Luke head to the extraction point and wait for the others to get here”

“What you want me on Boss?” chirped Matt from the back of the pack, leaning against a wall with half his shirt held tightly to his side to stem the blood from a gun shot wound and looking a tad pale.

“How you holdin’ up kid? Not gonna flake out on me before we get you back and I see to that properly are you? If you are, go with the Major, he can lug you back to base, otherwise head with Max.”

“I’ll be fine, nothing too serious, and nothing vital got hit. Few days to rest up and I’ll be on top of my game again”

“A’ight, soon as the others turn up, I want the whole lot of you to head back to base. I’ll meet you back there once I’m done, and keep your feet off the sofa, that upholstery don’t clean itself. Off y’ go.”

The guys nodded and went about their assigned tasks, leaving Cy in peaceful solitude. Her hands rose from her pistol grips and gently plucked her earphones out, tucking them into her coat pocket and taking out a cigarette and her lighter in their place. The filter tip of her cig held between her lips, she smirked and muttered as her thumb flicked the wheel of her Zippo, illuminating her face with it’s dancing flame against the gloom

“I was wondering when you’d show your face, what’s the matter, not feeling up to taking on the whole lot of us? Oh, sorry, I forgot, the poor defenceless maiden is much more fitting your type isn’t it?”

As the inhumanly pale figure stepped from the shadows Cy tried to bring the flame closer to light up her cig’ but found herself unable to move even a fraction. She growled in frustration as she glared at him “You could have at least given me chance for a last smoke if you’re going to kill me. It’s only fair.”

The Vampyr stepped closer and plucked the lighter from her immobile hand and lit her cigarette before tucking the Zippo back into her pocket carefully “Better, my poor little plaything? I wouldn’t want to seem an ungracious host now would I, although if I’d known you were coming I’d have had the place cleaned especially, all these bodies and blood on the floor makes is seem frightfully disorderly”

“Oh not at all.” smirked Cy, catching sight of a brief flash of blonde streaking from shadow to shadow behind her captor “In fact, I was going to thank you for laying on such entertainment, but I kinda have to claim responsibility for that. We did set off all kinds of alarms when we hacked your security system and called all your local reserves in to help you out, not that it helped much”

“Enjoy your brief moment of glory, my dear, for it’s going to be your last. You really think the men you killed here tonight are of any consequence, when I get to break in in exchange?” and with a twisted smile his hand lashed out too quick for Cy to see and crashed solidly against the left side of her jaw.

Cy was sent tumbling to the floor as the creature released her from his hold, having to reach one hand to a nearby wall for support as her senses reeled from the impact and made climbing to her feet difficult. She turned deliberately, refusing to show any sign of weakness as her eyes found the Vampyr’s and held his gaze. “That all you got, Casper? My lover beats me harder than that as foreplay, come on, have another go and put your back into it this time would you? Oh, and hi Narci, you all finished with dinner?”

The Vampyr’s hand swung back ready for another attack as he snarled angrily “Insolent whelp! I’ll teach you to mock me! I’ll tear the flesh from your pretty face with my bare hands you bit… what the…?” he trailed off as he found his arm held in a vice like grip

“Excuse me sir, satisfy my curiosity if you’d be so kind. Just what are you supposed to be, some kind of vampire?”

The Council creature spun to face his assailant to find himself looking down at a young girl who seemed no more than seventeen, and bared his fangs as is to validate his claims “What do you think, little girl?”

“I think, and this is pure speculation of course, that you’re nothing more than a pathetic imitation made by man, to serve man like an obedient pet. I also think you should have listened to the other young lady with regards to physical assault. She’s easily excitable and your feeble blows are only going to make her frisky. Try something like this instead…”

The was a subtle shift in the room as Narcelia dropped her mental mask, the fine golden colouring of her hair seeming to evaporate, leaving behind nothing but darkness in it’s stead. Her innocent young face was suddenly cold, pale and bitter as her ice blue eyes locked with the Vampyr’s and gave her all the means she needed to reach out with her mind and grasp his savagely.

She lashed out with her mind, a resounding mental blow caused her opponent to stagger a few steps, only to be sent stumbling once more as she beat against his mind over and over again. Cy moved over to stand beside her young friend, delighting in the show as the Council member was knocked from one end of the room to the other, calling out to him with a smile “Next time you guys decide to attack a school, you might want to take your fallen with you when you leave. The poor abandoned troops are far more likely to answer any question you put to them, like where they were sent from, who sent them, and who’s calling the shots.”

“I had nothing to do with that attack, but you can be sure those who betrayed us will suffer almost as much as you shall”

“We know that, we also know who was responsible. What I’m more interested in is where you’re sending supplies to the responsible party in Paragon, but we know you won’t tell us so a different method was called for; Isn’t that right Narci hun?”

“Is it time for me to work my magic ma’am? Can’t say I’ve ever dug that deeply into one of these things. I’m sure this will be an experience for all of us.” the girl declared as she beat her prey over to a wall and held him still while diving deeper into his mind and savagely tearing at the very fabric of his psyche, a sadistic smile of pleasure hovering at the corners of her mouth

Several minutes passed, the Vampyr’s curses and threats dying away until quiet sobs and mewls of anguish were all that could be heard as he slumped to the ground in a heap “I’ve got several names and a few locations. We’ll have to see how your man does on his venture but I think we might have found something of use in this waste of existence.” adding a solid kick to the whimpering thing on the floor’s ribs. “What’re we going to do with it? I’m disinclined to let it continue, call it genetic pride if you will, but such imitations are far from healthy for the others like me.”

Cy’s eyes were twitching behind her lowered ‘lids as she sub-vocalized over the EA comm’ network to those waiting on news of their mission before she shook her head and grinned “Oh I’m sure you can think of something sweetheart. Why don’t you show me what a good solid dinner will help you do? I know last time we worked together you’d just got the hang of moving things fully with your mind, how’s that coming along?”

“Oh I think you’ll be impressed. Observe ma’am, and demonstration assistant, the intricate art of levitating solid objects without any form of mechanical assistance or physical contact.” declared Narcelia in her best M.C. voice before lifting her hand gently and holding it palm down at shoulder height. The Vampyr was lifted gently, still whimpering and sobbing like a small child as he floated in the air

“The hell did you do to it? And why is it crying like a whiney kid with a skinned knee?”

“Oh I just showed it how insignificant it was in comparison to a real Vampire, one with actual abilities beyond mere parlour tricks. Right now he’s trying to think of one single area where he’s my superior outside of anatomical areas. Wouldn’t do to have him feeling better because he’s taller than me now would it?” she smirked as her hand turned so it’s palm faced upwards, then her fingers jerked, moving to point directly upwards at right angles to her palm. The floating Vampyr hurtling upwards with similar speed

With a shriek Cy leapt back and cursed the air a deep shade of blue before turning to her accomplice and frowning “You splattered him on the roof didn’t you?”

“Umm… Yes, ma’am.”

“And you know what that means now don’t you?” said Cy with a sigh as she removed her hat and let it drop to the floor

“Umm… No, ma’am.”

“Well, to put it simply, you got brain goop on my hat! That shit never comes out, even blood is easier to shift. It’s coming out of your cut of the spoils, and you can sit on radio duty when the boss and his team go to work tomorrow to get the rest of the stuff we need. Now come on, I have to check on Matt before we can start on the drinking and celebrating of a job well done, and time’s a wasting’ “