While Turoth was in his meeting with Kirn and Sera, a well-built figure was honing his physical abilities on Earth.

Rob’s muscles tensed with each movement.

Nine-hundred-ninety-five. He counted.

His arms hurt. Every pushup he did caused more spasms in his limbs.

Nine-hundred-ninety-six.

He gritted his teeth in concentration. He had to ignore the pain in his upper body and just keep going.

Nine-hundred-ninety-seven.

At first, the workout was normal enough. Rob performed the normal exercises like he always did.

Nine-hundred-ninety-eight.

In the beginning, it felt great to give his muscles some exercise. When he got to the pushup routine, he was good and hyped up after a solid crunching drill.

Under regular circumstances, he would quit when he reached the hundred mark. But once he got there, he noticed that he didn’t feel fatigued after so much exercise. So he decided to go for two hundred. He had grown weary, yet not nearly as quickly as he remembered from the past.

Nine-hundred-ninety-nine.

Now he was on the verge of exhaustion. The final pushup came slowly as his arms shook uncontrollably while he eased his way to the floor.

Rob had broken two hundred with almost as much ease as he had with one hundred. The strength he was gaining through the Spell of the Shadows made him want to continue to the next hundred and then the next.

Sweat poured from his body. It made Rob’s skin glisten in the light of the lamp in his living room. His face was red and pinched in the exertion of it all.

With a grunt, Rob straightened his arms. Inch by painful inch, he made it up to the full height of the pushup.

One thousand!

The large man collapsed to the wood-paneled floor. He let out a groan of pain and exhaustion. The exercise left him lying there for some time.

Once his breathing finally started to grow less labored and the pounding in his ears ended, Rob started to get up.

While he had been weakened, he wasn’t too worried about winding up sore later. If the spell worked for his recovery as it did for his strength and endurance, then he would be back up to par soon enough.

Damn! A thousand! At this rate, I’ll need to strap a Buick to my back just to work up a sweat.

While still panting a bit, Rob walked over to the couch, which he had moved off to the side of the room for the space he needed to workout. From the sofa’s arm, he retrieved a towel he had tossed there and mopped the sweat from his face.

The blue tank top he wore clung to his sculpted body due to the perspiration.

After wiping the moisture from his brow, Rob hung the towel over his shoulder.

Next to the spot where the towel had once laid was Rob’s watch. He put it on and checked the time. The black, digital numbers told Rob that he had to get going in a few minutes.

Fuck, no time for a shower. Looks like it’ll have to wait until we get back.

Rob went from the living room to the bedroom and changed out of the tank top into a gray T-shirt. From there, he tossed the damp garment he had just been wearing into the nearby hamper.

That batch of laundry’s gonna stink when I take it to the washing machine.

The big fellow then headed to the bathroom to leave the towel on the rack fastened to the wall next to the shower stall.

Again, Rob checked the time on his watch.

Dave was probably waiting for Rob to get his ass in gear by now if Dave himself was done with his own routine.

Rob didn’t see Dave go through his martial arts training too many times. Dave always liked to workout in private. He admitted once to Rob that the reason behind that was if he made a mistake like falling on his butt while trying to do a difficult kick, he would only look like an idiot to himself.

Rob didn’t know why his friend was so concerned. What Rob had seen of the martial artist in action was impressive. He even remembered the first time he had witnessed Dave in a fight.

* * *

It was years ago. They were five days into the last summer the two would see each other before going their separate ways to college.

The day was hot and humid, but a breeze had stirred up, making the day not too uncomfortable.

Rob was visiting Dave at the house where he lived with his mother and sister. The two had wasted the better part of the day sitting in front of the television and had just then decided to get outside for a while. A few snacks sounded good, and the nearby convenience store sounded like the right place to stop by on their walk.

"I still can’t believe it." Dave had said. "No more high school."

"I know. It’s kinda weird." Rob added in agreement. "It just seems too soon to have graduated."

"So, what’s the first thing you plan to do when you get to college?" Dave asked curiously.

"I’m gonna see which frat house keeps the best liquor, then sign my ass up there."

Dave laughed heartily at Rob’s response. Something he virtually never did now.

"What about you, man?" Rob inquired. "What are you gonna do when you get there?"

"I’m not quite sure. I’ve already got other things on my mind, since I’ll be testing for my black belt in a month. Sponslin is probably going to throw me a curve ball in the sparring portion, so I’ll need to be ready for that."

Chuck Sponslin was the name of the head instructor at Dave’s dojo. Dave never called it a dojo. He always referred to it as "the School." Rob thought of it as more of a church with how religiously Dave went there to train.

The School didn’t teach just one fighting style. The teachers there wanted all the student to be versatile, so they taught a combination of karate, kung-fu, judo, and God only knew what else.

"But as for getting to the campus," Dave continued. "I think I should check and see what the job market is like in Indianapolis. I’ll probably spend half my time studying and the other half in some fast food place flipping--."

Suddenly there was a scream that stopped Dave in mid-sentence.

"What do you think that was all about?" Dave asked.

"Probably some kids playin’." Rob suggested.

The scream came again. It was clearly female and it didn’t sound like a child’s.

"Sounds kind of old for a kid." Dave said. "Let’s check it out. This could be serious."

More screaming sent Rob and Dave moving. This time, it was louder and more desperate sounding.

The two followed the noise through the modest suburban area. The cries led them to a house with a half dozen pine-trees lining one side of the front yard.

Another scream, this one was being half muffled, came from behind the house. After the scream, a few male voices could be heard. Their tones were audibly angry about something.

Rob and Dave went around the house.

Surrounding the back yard was a high, picket fence that blocked their view in.

"What’s goin’ on back there?" Rob wondered aloud.

Dave answered by pulled at the gate’s iron handle. Fortunately, it was unlocked for the daytime. Having to get over the fence would have been difficult to say the least.

The hinges made no noise as Dave pushed the gate open.

In one corner of the fenced-in yard was a group of men. Their backs were to Rob and Dave. Whatever was occupying their attention was enough to keep them from noticing the intruders.

"Is this how you respect me, bitch?!" One of them said. "I sit down with my boys in my house, and you give me lip?"

"There’s always freedom of speech." Rob shouted.

There were three in the group. Now that they had turned to face Rob and Dave, their ages were easier to estimate. They were all somewhere around thirty or so.

Through a small gap between two of the men, could be seen a girl. Her blouse was ripped and those doe eyes of hers were wide enough to be mistaken for saucers. A cut on her forehead trailed a thin trickle of blood all the way down her cheek.

Rob recognized her immediately as one of the students from the third period physics class he and Dave had taken during the school year. Her name was Becky Kinnelski. Rob remembered how she always liked to brag about how she was dating an older guy.

Nobody in the physics class gave a shit because the older man was known to be the town drunk.

"Dis’ is none of yer’ business!" The man on the left said. "Dis’ is my girl, and I’ll talk ta’ her however I please. Now get the hell off my property."

"Let her go now, and maybe she won’t call the cops on all of you later." Dave said. He always wanted to avoid violence whenever he could. So Rob knew his friend would try to negotiate.

"Piss off, ya’ lil’ pricks!" Said the older man.

"No, thank you." Dave said.

"I told ya’ to get lost!" Becky’s boyfriend gave Rob the impression that he was the only member of the group capable of speech. The other two just glared and appeared ready to jump at the first sudden movement they detected. Odds were that all three of them had been hitting something stronger than just booze earlier.

"Get away from her now, pal." Rob demanded.

This order set the three men off. They all stood up at once and walked towards Rob and Dave.

"There are three of us and two of you. Doesn’t look too good, kid."

"Numbers really don’t mean that much to us." Rob shot back.

The men charged at the uninvited teenagers.

Dave fell back into a karate stance and Rob shrugged his broad shoulders in preparation for the coming fight.

Two hours later, the three guys who had been so confident in themselves were admitted to several weeks in traction at a community hospital. Afterwards, they went to jail on charges of drug possession and assault.

In later years, Rob enjoyed relating the story of that fight to his friends at college over and over again.

* * *

Those were some wild days. Rob smiled in remembrance.

At the door of his apartment, he reached for his jacket and put it on. After checking to make sure that his keys were in his pants pocket along with the magic orb, Rob exited the apartment.

A few steps directly across the hall stood the door to Dave’s place. The hulking male rapped on the door lightly and waited.

"It’s open." Rob heard Dave call from the other side.

Rob opened the door and went in.

Dave’s living room looked a lot like Rob’s did. All of the furniture had been moved off to the side to allow Dave the space he needed to practice.

In the center of it all, was Dave going through a kung-fu form. The slim man moved fluidly into a punch and then into a kick. His arms went out in wide swings to symbolize the crane that the form was based upon. The sequence of movements ended when he did one, last back-fist and brought both arms down at his sides as he bowed.

"Pretty cool." Rob commented.

"One of my favorite katas." Dave said.

"Are you set to go?"

"Yeah, let’s haul." Answered Dave as he took his jacket off the coat-rack by the door.

"So how have things been going with you and Barbara?" The smaller man asked as they descended the stairs. "Did anything interesting happen on your date?"

"You’re curious today." Rob noted.

"You’ve been talking about her a lot lately. I just thought of starting the conversation with something you like to talk about. I can barely understand you when you start going into the technical jargon about computers. It makes you sound like a shopping list for Radio Shack."

"I haven’t been thinkin’ of Barbara or comps lately."

"Well this is a surprise. So what’s been on your mind?"
"I’ve just been thinkin’ about how things used to be before all this happened."

"What? Before the spell?" Dave asked.

"Before everything. Before the WMC took over, before the Spirits came. You know. When life was more normal. Like that summer after graduation."

"I remember that one. We were so scared of what was out there in the world. I remember wondering what college would be like and if I’d do well in life."

They exited the apartment complex and headed towards the subway.

"Remember when we went to that picnic?" Dave asked. "The one where about ten of us got together and decided that the weather report about rain was just BS?"

"Oh yeah. We got the food out of the baskets, and then the fuckin’ sky just opened up on us."

They continued to speak of such past events smiling with the memories of simpler, more innocent times. Times before they had to stop being kids and join the real world.

"We all had to run back to Mark’s house and eat inside." Rob said nostalgically. He slid his hand down the railing on the wall as they went down into the subway station. "Who was that one girlfriend he brought with him, anyway?"

"I think her name was Jenny or Jamie. Something like that."

"Didn’t he dump her a month later because she wouldn’t put out?" Rob recalled. He then dropped a few tokens into the turnstile before the boarding platform.

"He would have been able to hold a relationship if he could have just kept those super-hormones of his under control."

"Whatever happened to Mark?" Rob asked as they boarded the train.

"I never saw him after that summer. But I remember that he said he wanted to be a porn star."

"Sounds like Mark to me."

"To be a teenager again." Dave said as the door slid shut.

Adam Marcus sat in his car impatiently.

A half-filled, Styrofoam cup of coffee was perched on the dashboard, and the steam rising from it left a tiny patch of fog on his windshield.

There wasn’t much activity around the warehouse to hold the mercenary’s attention. The day itself was overcast with gray clouds. It was as if the situation had been constructed to breed boredom.

This part of the town had fallen on hard times. Much of the Bronx had after the WMC took control. The Enforcers and local cops never bothered with any of the crime here. If it wasn’t a threat to the Committee, it wasn’t usually worth much attention from the authorities.

But this warehouse district was almost desolate. Even the gangs avoided haunting this area.

The products stored in the warehouses still doing business were crap. Computer components that were twenty years out of date. Shoddy construction materials to be sold at discount prices. A lot of the stuff was so worthless that some of the buildings’ owners didn’t bother with security measures tighter than the locks on the doors.

The sad part is that there are enough morons buying the trash to keep this area in business. Marcus sighed in disgust.

Marcus doubted that the two masked men from three nights ago would show up here. And even if they did, he wasn’t quite sure what he would say to them when the time came. Introductions would be rocky, of course. Finding out who they really were would probably be next to impossible.

On the passenger seat of the car sat a camera case. Marcus needed to study whatever these two people did, and Dallentine had said he wanted pictures to go with Marcus’s report. So the mercenary had dug the camera out of the corner of a spare room yesterday.

A full roll of film was loaded, so Marcus was set to go at the first sign of action that might take place.

Just then, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up into his rearview mirror and saw that there was somebody coming from the subway far behind his car.

Marcus quickly ducked down to avoid being seen. Hopefully, if whoever was coming up did pass his car, they would stick to the other side of the street and not notice the guy lying across the front seat inside.

Slowly, he pulled the camera out of its case. After another minute, Marcus poked his head over the dashboard.

Luck had been with him after all. Two men passed by on the left side of the road without paying the car much notice. Their backs were to him now, so he couldn’t catch sight of their faces. However, they were both walking in the direction of the warehouse.

These had to be the ones Marcus had been waiting for. However, he had been expecting masks and jumpsuits. They could have been wearing their party outfits underneath their street clothes, not that it mattered.

For right now, Marcus needed a few good shots of them with the camera and he would work from there.

* * *

Rob and Dave stood in front of the warehouse, trying to discern what they could about their surroundings.

If tonight’s appointment with a local gang involved more than attempted vandalism, they wanted to be ready.

Rob had suggested waiting inside the warehouse itself for the gangers to arrive, so the two of them could get a jump on the members. Dave saw the logic in the idea, especially if the WMC had seen fit to start equipping the gangs with something more dangerous than just crowbars and bricks.

Unfortunately, the warehouse appeared to be somewhat more secure than Jimmy Phillips’s apartment building. There were only two doors. One was a large sliding door for stock that was too big to be brought in through the smaller door made to accommodate just people. A quick test of the doors confirmed their guesses that they were firmly locked out.

"This sucks." Rob announced. "I don’t suppose you’ve spotted somewhere that we can change without anybody noticing."

"Afraid not." Dave said. "This city only has so many dark alleys to go around. Not that I see anyone who would notice. It’s like that neighborhood with the hardware store. The whole area is just deserted."

"Weirder than hell, man. I’ve gotta tell ya’."

"Still, I’d feel better transforming somewhere more discreet. Maybe inside this building, if we can get inside, that is."

"How do you figure on us getting’ in?" Asked Rob.

Dave looked up and saw a row of windows running along the front wall of the warehouse. They were about ten feet above street level, easily high enough to discourage casual passers-by.

"Try boosting me up." Dave instructed. "Let’s see if these windows are latched shut."

They both moved away from the smaller door and walked five feet to their left, just below one of the square windows.

Rob then leaned his back against the wall of the warehouse. He laced his fingers together to give Dave a leg up.

The smaller man stepped up and climbed onto Rob’s massive frame with his hands against the wall for support.

* * *

Just as the bigger man had put his back against the building, Marcus had his first shots. The camera he held clicked repeatedly as it snapped off a quick series of pictures.

That’s one. Now if Tiny’s friend will just turn about a little bit, I’ll have them both on film.

* * *

Dave stood evenly on Rob’s broad shoulders.

The window’s sill was at his chest level now. From what he could tell, there were no wires running on the windows to indicate an alarm system. So it was apparently safe to open.

He gave the glass pane a gentle push, but it wouldn’t budge. Dave pushed a little harder, yet the window still held fast to where it was. He considered putting all his weight against the glass, but he didn’t want to risk losing his balance.

"Is it locked?" Rob asked from below.

"Looks like it." Dave answered.

* * *

Marcus stayed ready to duck back out of sight at the first sign of the men glancing towards him.

When the skinny guy doing the balancing act on his buddy’s shoulders turned to face down to say something, the mercenary let his camera click again.

Now that Marcus had their faces, the next step was to find out who these two guys were and what was motivating them to go against the Committee.

* * *

"Try breaking it." Rob said.

"Alright." Dave replied. "Just duck your head. I don’t think you want to get hit in the face with any broken shards that come your way."

Once Rob turned his face to the ground, Dave twisted his body to get just the right angle he would need. Bringing his left arm up, he thrust his elbow into the window. The thick cloth of his jacket kept him from getting cut. Most of the glass went inside, though a few stray shards fell out around the two.

"Are you doing okay, so far?" Dave asked Rob.

"I didn’t get cut, if that’s what you mean."

"Good. Now just give me a second here."

Dave then carefully brushed the remaining fragments of the window away from the frame.

Once satisfied that there were no more pieces sticking out of the metal edges, he put both hands on the sides of the frame. With a secure grip, Dave brought one foot up to the windowsill followed by the other.

He ended up in a squatting position where the glass pane used to be.

Below, Rob stepped away from the wall to get a better look at Dave’s progress.

"See anyone coming yet?" Dave asked from his lofty perch.

"Not right now." Rob said while looking up and down the street. "Let’s just hope the owner of that car over there doesn’t show up."

"Go to the door." Said Dave. "I’ll have you inside in no time."

Taking a deep breath, Dave leapt down to the cement floor below. Glass ground against concrete the instant his shoes made contact with the floor. He had too much forward momentum for him to land steadily. So Dave was forced to tuck into a roll. He made sure to hop forward a bit with the roll to avoid going across the broken shards.

Once Dave was back on his feet, he took stock of the inside of the warehouse. It was all rather cluttered with wooden crates stacked all around. Off to one side of the interior was a forklift covered in a fine layer of dust. Next to the forklift was a pile of bricks and about two dozen bags of unused cement.

This seemed about as good of a place as any to Dave for what was to come next.

* * *

Marcus had seen the one man break in through window while the other went back to the smaller door.

And then there was a flash of light from inside the building. It was bright enough to be seen from fifty feet away, but it only lasted a second. If Marcus had not been looking right at the warehouse, he probably would have missed the whole spectacle.

"What the hell was that?!" He asked excitedly.

* * *

Rob saw the light from the windows, but wasn’t the least bit surprised. He merely waited at the smaller of the two doors.

The sounds of the deadbolts being slid were heard as the entrance was unlocked. The door opened slowly, and Rob saw Wings standing in the doorway.

"Come on in." The masked figure said. "The whole place seems to be deserted."

* * *

Now where did this guy come from?

This was making less and less sense to Marcus. Already, he had to duck back twice to keep from being seen. And in that span of time, a third person appeared to be in sight.

The man who had just gone through the window couldn’t have changed outfits that quickly. As far as the Society knew, there were only two known individuals new to the scene.

Maybe Dallentine had been right about there possibly being a whole other resistance group.

Marcus decided that the best thing he could do for the time being was wait for his targets to come back out. Then he would speak with them himself.

The mercenary reached into his coat and felt the reassuring handle of his gun. It wouldn’t be diplomatic to pull a weapon. But Marcus was a firm believer in the three words of "Just in case."

* * *

Rob took one last look at the street before he went into the warehouse. He closed the door behind him and took a good twenty seconds to reset all the locks.

Unlocked doors to a warehouse would be a little too convenient, and the Shadowed Ones didn’t want anything to look suspicious for when the gang members showed up.

With the door locked, Rob concentrated on his other appearance. The light engulfed him as he transformed into Granite.

Wings had gone to the pile of bricks and took one in hand. At that point, he walked over to the broken glass that used to be a window and tossed the brick into the middle of the shards.

"Now it looks more like the work of vandals." He said.

"Good idea there, Wings." Granite nodded. "So what do you think a gang of street punks would want to do with this place? They can’t do much damage to the outside. Some graffiti’s about as much as they could do to the walls. Maybe there could be somethin’ valuable in the crates."

"None of these boxes are labeled with anything but numbers. So unless the spell’s given you something along the lines of x-ray vision, we could be here a while trying to figure out what all this stuff is."

"Let’s check out the office." Said Granite. "There might be a file cabinet or somethin’ that says what we’ve got here."

"I see a set of stairs behind the crates over there." Wings pointed. "So, there could be something on the second floor."

The Stone Hawks had to squeeze around a number of the stacked boxes as they made their way to the stairs.

At the stairs, the two walked up. Past the second floor, the stairs continued up to a landing at the top with a brown metal door. The exit to the building’s roof, most likely.

The masked men found a short hallway on the second floor. They walked along the row of doors on one side of the hall until they came to one marked "Shipping & Handling."

There was no lock on the portal, so gaining entrance was not a problem.

Granite opened the door and entered with Wings following behind.

Everything was organized in this office. The bin on the desk labeled "IN" was empty, and the one marked "OUT" was filled with file folders containing various forms.

"I’ll check the file cabinet." Wings stated. "Maybe there’s something worth looking at in that bin."

"Right." Granite said before going to work on the files.

Wings opened the top drawer of the file cabinet and went searching for any information they could use.

No help was found in that one. All that drawer contained was records of previous and current employees.

Granite had a file in his hands and was leafing through the forms inside.

"Nothin’ but a list of the week’s expenses in this one." The large man said while closing the folder. He was about to put it back when the papers inside slid out and fell onto the floor around the desk.

"Great." Granite complained bitterly.

He bent down to pick up the papers and start putting them in the order he had found them.

That was when he saw something attached to the underside of the desk.

"Holy shit!" He shouted.

Wings nearly leapt out of his costume. He spun around with his hand going for the heavy broadsword on his back.

"What is it?" He asked quickly.

"Just look!" Granite pointed to what he had seen.

Wings leaned over to get a better look. His mouth dropped open behind the black mask, and his blood ran cold.

They had both seen enough movies to know that a digital clock attached to what looked like gray play-dough was not a safe thing to be around. There were bound to be more of these little gifts sent by the Committee lying throughout the building. Surely more than enough to bring the whole place down on the two of them.

"We’ve gotta’ get outta’ here!" Granite said.

The clock ticked down to a minute, and Wings found his mind racing. The time consumed from making their way back downstairs, getting to the door, unlatching all the locks, and running a safe distance all flashed in his brain to be calculated into two minutes and seven point four seconds.

"Not enough time!" He yelled. "The spell on us is telling me that it would take too long to get out the door."

Just then, Granite’s eyes lit up.

"The roof! It’s just up a flight of stairs!"

They rushed out of the office. In their wake, the timers on numerous explosives continued their lethal countdown.

By the time the Stone Hawks had reached the stairs, the timers were reading forty.

When Wings had reached the landing, they were at thirty-five.

The door to the roof was cast open at thirty-three, and Granite and Wings were sprinting across the flat roof.

* * *

So far, Marcus was under the impression that there were a total of three individuals inside the warehouse. Two men in regular clothes and one guy dressed completely in black.

Simple, right?

Then what the fuck were two figures in black running on the roof like bats out of hell for?

* * *

Next to the warehouse was another building of an equal height. The gap between the two structures was approximately ten feet across.

"How good were you in track, Rob?" Wings asked as they ran.

"Pretty decent!" Granite replied.

"Glad to here it."

Wings let out a deep breath and jumped forward with all his might.

The increased strength granted by the Spell of the Shadows allowed them to make the distance easily with two yards to spare.

As they landed, Granite and Wings kept running at the same breakneck pace.

Inside the warehouse, fifteen seconds remained before the coming blast.

God, do I hate heights. Wings said to himself as he and Granite approached their next jump.

The smaller member of the Hawks was a few feet ahead of Granite, but the bigger man still kept pace.

If they had been actually gauging their speed, they would have noticed that the two of them were running at a velocity rivaling Olympic track sprinters. But such statistics were of little consequence to them. All that mattered was putting as much distance between them and the warehouse as possible.

Granite and Wings made the second jump to the next structure.

That was when the timers hit zero.

The warehouse they had fled went up in a deafening explosion of hellish fire. Brick, glass, and steel went flying in all directions, as the building became a flaming pillar. Half of the building the Shadowed Ones had just leapt from was also blown to bits by the blast while the other half swayed for a second before it started to topple over.

The shock wave sent out was powerful enough to boost the Stone Hawks a greater distance than they had planned on traveling. They tumbled forward in mid air and landed with a dull thud on the third rooftop.

They flopped over to lay sprawled on their backs to face the smoke-filled sky.

"Fuck!" Granite yelled while Wings let out a shout of surprise.

Wings rolled off to the right, and Granite rolled left.

A flaming piece of sheet metal fell from the sky and imbedded itself in the roof where the Hawks had been previously laying. A second of hesitation would have left the men beheaded on the roof with ten square feet of cheap steel separating their heads from their shoulders.

"Oooowwww!" Granite groaned.

"Anything broken?" Wings asked as he tried to feel himself for cracked bones.

"I don’t think so." Answered Granite through clenched teeth. "I think the Committee’s a little pissed. Damn, gonna be black and blue for a month."

Wings slowly sat up. Nothing felt busted so far, though getting out of bed the next morning was going to be quite a trick.

"Let’s make a mental not to follow the schedule anymore." Granite said as he propped himself up on his elbow.

"We’d better try getting up." Wings declared. "Enforcers will be swarming all over the place soon."

They came to their feet shakily, and the pain was excruciating.

Granite found himself limping across the roof.

Seeing his friend’s distress, Wings came over and let Granite set his arm on the thin man’s shoulders for support.

Together, they walked to a ladder curving over the edge of the roof.

Granite took hold of the ladder and eased his way down it, groaning all the way to the fire escape below.

Wings followed suit, cries of pain and all.

Granite stepped onto the iron stairs, which creaked as they folded down to the street below. On the sidewalk, he leaned against the building he had just dismounted and rubbed the area of his arm where new bruises were sure to form.

Once Wings came down, they walked unsteadily away from the disaster and towards home.

* * *

"Damn it!" Marcus swore as the warehouse was demolished before his eyes.

"What the fuck is going on?!"
Of all things, he was not expecting an explosion. Especially one this big.

It was during that moment of sheer pandemonium that he was forced to duck behind his dashboard again. This time, it was out of reflex when a piece of flying debris spun right out from where the warehouse’s front door had been.

The shatterproof windshield stood up to the impact, but it now had a spider-web of cracks made by a fist-sized chunk of masonry.

Remembering that there were others in the area, the mercenary got out of his car and looked to the rooftops.

Sure enough, there were the two figures he had seen before the blast. They were both moving like they had been injured. It was about all Marcus could discern from street level.

If the men stumbling on the roof had known about the explosion, they would have given themselves more than enough time to get away the site. It was obvious to the mercenary that the WMC had turned this whole thing into a set-up for his targets.

Furthermore, Marcus was convinced that there were only two people instead of some larger group like Dallentine had been convinced. Somehow, the two must have changed clothes. And then there were those flashes of light. It was possible that magic was involved. The appearance of the Spirits a few years back had proven that such a phenomenon was conceivable.

As the men in black came down the fire escape, Marcus could hear the faint wail of sirens in the distance.

The masked men didn’t seem to see Marcus just yet, and a confrontation would just waste time if the authorities were going to be moving in as fast the mercenary estimated.

If these guys were smart, they would be able to keep their heads down when it counted and make their exit.

As for Marcus, he planned to get back into his car and wait until the two were out of sight. After that, he was getting the hell out of dodge.

Besides, he had the photos he had initially come for. He would just need to develop and research them for all the answers the Society wanted.

* * *

Rob growled out as he cleaned one of the many scrapes on his arm with a cotton swab soaked in disinfectant.

His only gripe with the Spell of the Shadows was that while it left everything on his person with the other form, it carried over both the sphere of communication Turoth had given him and any injuries that might have occurred while in the previous form.

The Shadowed Ones were sitting in Rob’s apartment now.

On the way home, he and Dave had made a brief stop at a drugstore for medical supplies after transforming in another deserted alley.

The pharmacist had asked curiously what had happened to his latest customers when he saw the condition they were in.

Dave simply responded by saying that there was a little accident at work.

The smaller man was now sitting across from Rob on the living room’s couch while in the process of wrapping gauze around his leg.

"How will we know where to go next?" Rob asked hopelessly. "If they’re gonna be expectin’ us at every place on the schedule, then what can we do without getting ourselves killed?"

"I say that we shake down Phillips for more information." Dave said. "In the meantime, we should try to heal and find out what’s the deal with all this business happening in the Bronx. Just about every job on that list is set-up for that area."

"Sounds like a plan." Rob nodded. "We could check some public records at the libraries for any info on the place. It would be a hell of a lot safer than jumpin’ rooftops anyway."

Dave nodded in agreement and then asked Rob to pass the Band-Aids.

"What news do you have?" Fredericks asked from the chair behind his desk.

Burkar stood before the President of the WMC. He had just now entered the office to give his report on the status of the warehouse district in the Bronx.

"Search teams are going through the debris as we speak. No bodies have been recovered so far, but the explosion leaves little doubt in my mind that the matter can be put to rest. I still think we should have had a surveillance team around to keep an eye on the building before it was destroyed."
"We know little of the Shadowed Ones to begin with." Fredericks said. "Their enchantment may have given them the power to detect a team of watching Enforcers. I didn’t want to risk tipping them off."

"Do you think they could still be alive?" Burkar inquired.

"Until some actual remains are found as proof, we can only assume that they’re still out there."

"Then what do you suggest? Do you want to reschedule the events for the gangs?"

"Don’t be stupid." Fredericks said angrily. "Those idiots on the street get confused easily enough already. Rearranging our plans would only cost more time and probably more money.

"Send word to the Enforcers that they are to tell the gangs to call our people at the first sign of trouble from now on."

"I don’t care for being called ‘stupid’." Burkar shot out.

"In case you may have forgotten, my fine friend, I am the one behind this desk for the moment. I am the one making everything you see here possible. I have the power and the intelligence to make it happen. And I have been placed in charge of this world. And until that time ends, you will do as I say. Are we clear on this matter?"

"Crystal." The constable said.

Without another word, Burkar turned on his heel and walked stiffly from the office.

* * *

Marcus sat in Dallentine’s office with a manila folder in hand.

Dallentine himself listened to the mercenary’s words with deep interest. His fingers were steepled in front of his bearded face as he took everything in.

Karen was there too, sitting next to Marcus. She had been asked by Dallentine to sit in on the debriefing. She had agreed to join the two men not so much for Dallentine’s request, but rather to act as a buffer to keep the friction to a minimum.

"So you were able to avoid detection?" The Society leader questioned.

"By both the targets and Enforcers." Marcus nodded. "I’ve got to say this much. Whoever these boys are, they must have done some serious ball-busting to the Committee to get the WMC to set a trap for them this fast."

"Your opinion is noted." Dallentine said. "I have to agree with you. So let’s have a look at our mysterious vigilantes."

Marcus tossed the folder on the desk.

"Just take a look at what I just had developed." Said Marcus.

Dallentine opened the folder and looked down at the photographs inside.

There was a sudden gasp from Karen who had inhaled sharply at seeing the photo at the top of the thin stack.

"What is it?" Dallentine asked worriedly. He ran his hand over the pictures to spread them out evenly across his desk.

"They were my first assignment." Karen answered with a bit more control.

"You mean these are the two that used to have that spell book the Spirits left behind?"
"It’s been some time, but I recognize the faces."

"I’m a little in the dark here." Marcus said. "Would anybody be willing to fill me in on this?"

"It all happened before you joined with us." Detailed Karen. "Just after the Spirits disappeared.

"While the Spirits were here, they insisted on having their privacy. After the shock of first meeting them wore off, the old U.S. government said that they would keep the Spirits safe and offered to give them protection.

"Those wizards weren’t naive. And they weren’t going to trust anybody. The Spirits said they could defend themselves well enough. All they wanted was some place to set up housekeeping. From that spot, they cast spells on the houses they were staying in. Their magic was powerful enough to keep out the assassins from hate groups that rose up against them. Even the feds couldn’t bug the places they stayed at."

"Yeah, so why the history lesson?" Marcus asked in a bored tone. "I’ve been finding the same info on basic cable for the past five years over and over again."

"Well, what you may not have know was that the instant the Spirits left, the wards they had set up were broken.

"Everyone from federal agents, to the Committee, to your basic burglar had been waiting for the opportunity to get into those houses and find out what the Spirits may have left behind.

"We were able to find that most of the things left had gone to Fredericks Enterprises."

"The Committee’s parent company." Marcus smirked.

"But there was this one book that Fredericks couldn’t account for." Karen continued. "It turned out that a team of highly skilled thieves had been working inside of Fredericks’ own operation.

"Fredericks found out, went nuts, and had his own security deal with the thieves. Before that went down however, the infiltrators had already sold off the book.

"By that time, we were secretly racing against Fredericks Enterprises to track down where the hell the damn thing could have gotten to. As it turned out, the most recent owner had bought the book for thirteen-hundred dollars."

"That’s it?" Marcus commented in disbelief. "One of the only magical texts on Earth, and it went for a dime-store price?"

"A lot of people were afraid of magic." Dallentine suggested. "Some still are. And certain people in the know were aware of how serious Fredericks was about getting the Spirits’ old toys. I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to be holding onto the book if I knew who would be coming after it."

"So the book was sold cheap just to get rid of it, huh?" Marcus said. "What happened to the guys when the steeple chase came to their door?"

"Fredericks’ people beat us to the punch." Replied Karen. "They tried to cut a deal with David Whitman, the fellow in the first picture. Whitman wasn’t willing to sell the book, so the Committee later tried to take it by force.

"Whitman still held his ground, and he had help from that other man, Robert Thompson. The two were old friends who grew up together.

"After the second failed attempt to get the book, the people Fredericks sent out decided to take more extreme measures. They sent a bomb to the house Whitman was staying at. It killed his family while he was out with Thompson."

"Wait." Interrupted Marcus. "If all this was happening, then why didn’t the Society step in?"

"We didn’t have the resources we have now." Karen said. "Besides, I personally tried to get Whitman to give us the book. With everything falling apart around him, he wasn’t any more cooperative with us than he was with Fredericks Enterprises."

"So what happened after Whitman lost his family?"

"As you can imagine, both Whitman and Thompson were devastated. Fredericks’ people saw this as they opportunity they needed and made one last ditch effort for the spell book. That attempted was wasted again when Whitman destroyed the book.

"The Committee’s only concern was the book. And with that gone, they simply dropped the matter."

"So they let Whitman and Thompson live?" Marcus asked.

"They had already tried three times to kill the two of them." Karen went on. "Five of their agents were taken out, and the one object they’d came for was diced in a feed-mill in one of America’s ten-thousand backwater towns. It just wasn’t worth it for the Committee to bother with them anymore.

"Besides, Fredericks Enterprises barely had enough pull to keep the lid on what really happened. With Fredericks and his election campaign going on, the whole operation was just inches away from blowing into the press’s hands and doing some major damage."

"It looks like some damage to the Committee is exactly what these two guys are set upon." Marcus stated.

"Then that would put them on our side." Dallentine said. "And if there’s anything to what Marcus said about magic possibly being involved at that warehouse, then these two could be crucial to our cause. We need to get in touch. Find out where they live."

"That might not be a good idea." Karen pointed out.

"How so?" Marcus inquired.

"A lot happened back then. Thompson and Whitman weren’t willing to trust anyone with what was happening to them, and I doubt they would be willing to show any trust now."

"Then what do you suggest?" Asked Marcus. "I don’t exactly feel comfortable letting these guys run loose in the city. Even if they are against the Committee."

"We need something to bargain with." Suggested Dallentine. "If they are in this thing on their own, then sooner or later the WMC will come down on them, and they won’t have anyone to turn to. I’d say that would be the time to offer a helping hand. Marcus they’re yours."

"And I thought this was all going to be a waste of my time." The mercenary snorted.

"Don’t get cocky." Dallentine ordered. "Let’s take this one by the numbers. We still don’t have much on the Committee’s Rebirth Project, whatever the hell that’s supposed to be. It’s something big the Committee’s had going on for some time, and Fredericks is playing it close to his chest."

"We’ve got time for that later." Marcus waved at the notion. "The WMC has been sitting pretty for some time now. Whatever they’ve got going on with Rebirth is just another way for the Committee to wave their status quo flag."

"Well, in the meantime, get out there and pull up all the information we can get on Thompson and Whitman. I want you on this too, Prinn, since you’ve had experience with them before."

"I don’t think I should make personal contact with them, if it can be helped." Said Karen. "At least not in the field. There are some unresolved issues still floating around."

"Whatever," Marcus grunted while standing from his chair. "Let’s just get moving on this."

The two Society agents left Dallentine’s office and proceeded through the main lobby. Marcus cast a contemptuous glance up at the disco-ball as he always did when passing under it.

"Well?" Marcus nodded back towards Dallentine’s office.

"You’re improving." Karen answered without breaking her stride. "I almost felt safe sitting there with the knowledge that you were both armed."

"Damn, you like to be a wise-ass while working, don’t you?"

"Save it, Adam."

Other agents continued to mill about the desks and tables as Karen and Marcus proceeded down a corridor away from much of the activity.

Back to Chapters Menu Home Bios History and Terminology