Dave was running.

His shoes struck the asphalt with each step. His side was in pain from the labored sprinting.

He couldn’t think of the pain. He just had to keep his body moving. Everything else was secondary.

The house was just ahead.

The cracked sidewalk made him stumble for an instant before he regained his a pace. It was another instant David Whitman couldn’t spare.

For some reason, it didn’t feel like he was running as fast as he could. Was there some kind of fifty-pound weight strapped to his back? He would have pondered the idea longer if he had not been so focused on where he was going.

His breathing hoarse, Dave shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Mom! Meagan! Don’t open that package! Just get out of the house!"

Even at this distance, he could pick out details within the home through the picture window of the living room.

Dave’s mother changed channels on the television.

Meagan was setting something brown and cubicle on the table.

"No, Meagan! Get away from that!" Screamed Dave.

Dave’s teenaged sister torn away the paper wrapping from the cardboard package. The top of the box flipped opened, and young Meagan Whitman took in her last sight, that horrifying vision of what was truly inside.

And then there was only the fire.

Dave woke up to the buzzing of his alarm clock.

His eyes snapped open and he found himself lying on his side upon the mattress. The covers had been kicked off and were now wrapped around Dave’s left leg after his tossing and turning.

The old neighborhood was swept away with the arrival of consciousness. There was only the one man in the dark and empty bedroom with a black pair of sweatpants on.

Thought I wouldn’t have that dream anymore. Dave acknowledged ruefully. Back to a therapist, I go.

Sitting up, Dave freed his leg from the tangled bedclothes. A patch of prickling needles teased his foot as circulation began to flow again into the sleeping appendage.

The street lamps from below threw barely enough light through the window to let Dave move about without bumping into anything. It would have been nice to lay back down. Not sleep, Dave already found his subconscious mind to be a none-too-friendly place as of late. Just simple rest was what he craved.

Dave turned off the clock and grabbed his glasses. He continued to wear them more out of habit than necessity since the night when the Spell of the Shadows corrected his vision.

After getting dressed, Dave stepped out of the bedroom.

Seeing no sense in waking Sera, Dave refrained from hitting any of the lights.

He padded over to the folded-out couch and looked down on the sleeping woman. She was so tranquil laying there dreaming. So unlike the fiery personality Dave was coming to know while she was awake. The dim setting gave her a beauty that struck Dave as surreal.

Leaving the sofa, the young man crept to the kitchen for some breakfast.

He didn’t get more than halfway before he found a creak in the floor.

Dave’s head snapped around to the living room. He could hear more than see that Sera was stirring.

All chances of her falling back asleep were blown when she sat up and yawned.

"Is that you, Dave?" Sera asked sleepily.

"Yeah. Sorry to wake you like that."

"It’s fine. I like to get up early. What time is it?"

"About five-thirty. Just a little bit before sunrise." Dave added the last part after recalling that his guest was still learning how to tell time here on Earth.

"What time do have to go to your job?"

"I’ve got to be there at seven. But I like to sit and relax after breakfast before I leave."

"What are you having?"

"Just cereal. You hungry?"

"A little." Sera rolled over and stood up from the bed. The shirt Dave had loaned her hung down just a few inches above her bare knees.

"I don’t suppose you would happen to have a preference?" Questioned Dave. He pulled two bowls from the cupboard followed by four boxes of cereal.

"I don’t think I’ve ever tasted cereal. Is that what you called it?"

"Yeah. Let me get a light on here, so I don’t spill the milk or something."

Dave turned on a small light over the kitchen stove. A soft orange glow wasn’t too bright to blind the two, merely to allow them to mill about the apartment.

With one of the boxes in hand, Sera examined its front in the wane light.

" ‘Breakfast of Champions?’ " She said uncertainly.

"It’s just a gimmick." Explained Dave. "A catchphrase the makers of things use to sell what they’re peddling."

"Strange."

"I say the same thing sometimes." Agreed Dave.

While the two ate, Dave found himself looking from Sera to the boxes of cereal. It didn’t take long before Sera took note of Dave’s shifting glances.

"What?"

"Just something that’s been gnawing at me for a while. Our languages are practically identical, both spoken and written. Even when the Spirits first came, they used English."

"You mean the Human Tongue?" Ventured Sera.

"Is that what you call it?"

"Yes. And I think I know what you’re referring to."

"Seems incredibly convenient for both of us."

"It could be destiny."

"I like to think people are able to choose their own paths. When we hit a problem, we should be able to find the answers ourselves."

"I wonder what you would have been like had you been born on my world." Sera set her bowl down to stretch lethargically. "You could have been a wizard, like Kirn.

Dave didn’t say anything to that statement. Instead, he gathered his own empty bowl and took it to the sink.

"I’m serious." Pressed Sera. "I could see you being a philosopher or maybe a scholarly mage."

"My luck with magic hasn’t always been great." Dave said over his shoulder as he rinsed out his bowl and set it in the dishwasher.

"Why’s that?"

"Let’s just say there are some days I wish I hadn’t found Arkin’s book."

The way Dave made that declaration, caused Sera to see she was hitting a nerve.

"I’m sorry if I brought up something offensive."

"No." Insisted Dave. "I should be sorry for copping an attitude like I just did. I’ve just lost a lot of things I know I’m never going to get back is all."

"If you want to talk about it sometime…." Sera invited.

"It’s nothing you need to worry about. Just leave me to deal with it."

She still couldn’t fathom what kind of sadness apparently drove Dave. A part of him just sat back in a dark corner, afraid of exposure. Was it self-pity? Guilt? Anger? Maybe it was a hidden shame. Whatever it was, that concealed area of his soul made Sera honestly want to offer Dave help.

Following the modest meal, Dave turned on the television and the two of them watched the morning news. There was mention of a child murder that took place out in Pennsylvania. Also, the crime rate in the Bronx area was up four percentage points. Not surprising to Dave who already had a clue of what was really going on there.

Sera watched the set in fascination.

Hope she doesn’t get too hooked on the picture box. Dave thought. I doubt they have anything like this on Neddel.

It was during one of the commercial breaks that Dave’s watch made a rapid succession of electronic chirps.

"What’s that?" Sera asked.

"My signal to make sure Rob has his sorry carcass out of bed." Dave set the remote on the coffee table and went to the coat-rack by the door.

"You’re leaving?"

"Uh-huh. There’s plenty of stuff in the refrigerator you can heat up in the microwave, so help yourself if you get hungry."

"So that’s what I’m supposed to do for the day? Sit, wait, and fill my face?"

"I know it sucks." Dave said diplomatically. "But nobody is supposed to know you and Kirn are here. If you go out on the street with no ID and if a cop or, heaven forbid, an Enforcer gets to you for some reason, we’ll have no end of trouble.

"Just sit tight until me and Rob get back. We’ve been making some plans on how to hit the Committee."

"What do you have in mind?"

"We learned about the first gang job we busted from a punk who heard things we didn’t." Dave said before donning his jacket. "We think another visit is in order."

"Sounds interesting."

"We’ll talk about it later. Right now, I’ve got to get going."

"Guess I’ll see you when you get back then." Sera said in a depressed voice.

"Catch you later."

Dave was soon out the door.

Seven feet across the hall, the young man started pounding on Rob’s door.

"I hear ya’, Dave." Rob yelled irritably "Don’t get yer jimmy in a knot."

Thompson opened his door with the agility of a sloth. His formal clothes, which were dress code for the programming department, had the look of being slapped on after he had given them a stiff kick in the ass. His shirt was only half tucked in, and the paisley tie around his neck was set at a totally unprofessional angle.

"Morning, Bobby."

"Shut mouth." Rob droned in a sleep-deprived monotone. "Rob cranky. Sleep more, he want."

"Okay then. I suppose we’ll just head off to work then."

"Work bad. Bed good."

They made their way down the stairs. Dave walked with his eerily silent step, and Rob dragged himself along.

It wasn’t until they were riding on the subway that either of them spoke again.

"So what side of the bed did you hop out on?" Asked Dave, sitting leisurely in one of the cheap plastic seats of the train car.

"All damn night." Rob moaned. He did not sit. Instead, he hung on one of the vertical poles between the twin rows of seats.

"What?"

"I said, ‘All damn night.’ He found the porn channels and watched ‘em all damn night."

"Sounds like you’ve found a kindred spirit then." Dave reasoned. "I remember you once said, ‘If they’re eighteen, let them get in front of the camera.’"

"It was cool for, I’d say, the first hour." Rob jammed his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes to pick away the sleep-crud that had accumulated.

"What happened when hour number two started?"

"I told Kirn I was gonna go hit the sack, and that he should keep the volume down so I could sleep. Soon as my head hits the pillow, I hear all these lesbians moanin’.

"I come out to tell hormone-boy to jack down the sound. I find him glued to the screen with a shit-eatin’ grin on his face. The tube got turned down, and I went back to bed. Ten minutes later, he’s got it turned back up. I come back out, and he’s still grinnin’ and gogglin’ at the TV. So I threatened to pull the plug if he doesn’t turn it down and keep it down. That seemed to knock some sense into him."

"It still doesn’t sound like you lost too much sleep." Dave braced his right arm on the seat next to him as the train slowed to a halt. The doors slid open and more people boarded.

"Three a.m." Rob countered. "That’s what time I hear the loudest orgasm a TV can generate. I get out of bed ready to beat Kirn’s ass, only to find him passed out on the couch, finally. Turns out he rolled right onto the remote in his sleep. I wasn’t gonna fault him for that. Though I was pissed that he was sleepin’ soundly while I was considerin’ havin’ the cable cut off."

"That explains why you’re not your usual dapper self." Dave commented.

"Every time I came out, I swear I was expectin’ to find him with his shorts around his ankles, clutchin’ his--."

"I don’t need that picture in my head, thank you very much. Especially at this hour. My night wasn’t too restful either."

"Your houseguest givin’ you grief, too?" Rob assumed.

"No, the problem wasn’t with Sera." Dave wriggled in his seat in an attempt to make himself more comfortable. "My dreams have been getting effed up again."

"Back home?"

"Yeah."

Rob dropped the topic right there. Talking about two of the most important people in Dave’s past rarely went over well. Experience had proven that it was often better to just change the subject.

"So you got any overtime comin’ up again?" Rob asked.

"The supervisor says we’re in the clear for the rest of the week. But after that, things are supposed to get busy again."

"Bummer, man."

"I’ll manage."

Tunnel lights continued to sweep by outside of the car’s windows. Further along the tracks, the cramped train went on its scheduled rounds.

Back at Dave’s apartment, Sera found herself reaching a state of mind-numbing boredom.

The television had provided a few hours of fascination, she could not deny that. Those few hours, however, had given her eyes a terrible strain.

There was so little in Dave’s home to occupy a person’s attention. The host had brought little with him from the city he and Rob called Chicago. Surely, Dave must have done more with his time than just sit around in front of this cube with its moving pictures.

Then came a knock on the door followed by her brother’s voice.

"Sera?"

"It’s unlocked." She raised her voice, thankful for some company, even if it was the lecherous mage.

The knob turned, and Kirn entered.

"Not much to pass the time here, I’ve noticed." He said.

"I can’t say I care much for being cooped up in here either."

"Well there are some interesting things on the television." Kirn eyed the remote on the couch. "Last night, I found this channel that had people--."

"That thing’s been giving me a headache." Sera’s eyes began to throb with the mere thought of turning the device back on.

"You really should get a hobby." The wizard found himself a pad of paper and pencil on the kitchen counter and started casually sketching.

"Any suggestions?"

"I’ll let you know when I come up with something." Kirn glanced around occasionally before moving the pencil a little more. "Ever consider an activity with some aesthetic potential?"

"I think we’ve both established which one of us was meant to be the next artist in the family." Sera pointed to the pad in her brother’s hand.

"Are you complimenting me or just showing a defeatist’s attitude?"

"Both." Sera began to poke through the notebooks and maps Rob and Dave had littering the coffee table. "These two sure have been working hard at this problem. Almost as hard as the Spirits."

Kirn looked up from his sketch without comment.

"Still having trouble believing they’re gone." Sera went on. "Just days ago, Turoth was leading us all."

"I know." Kirn set down his pen and pad. Sera could see that he had been drawing an image of the living room with its window view of the city outside. "Coming to this place with all its wonders. It’s made me think of what we’ve had to leave behind as well."

"Faira, Ormer, even Derse would have been better suited to come over. Especially Turoth. He was a leader, someone who could have given more support than just our warning to Rob and Dave."

"But Turoth wasn’t able to make it here. So now it’s up to the four of us." Kirn said in hopes of renewing his sister’s determination.

"Yeah, just the four of us."

"Yabba-dabba-do." Rob droned out as he trudged onto the elevator.

"Why so glum?" Barbara held open the elevator door in wait of her boyfriend.

"Not glum. Just busy." Answered the burly gentleman.

It was just the two of them in the elevator now as Barbara pressed the button for the first floor.

"With what? Work’s over, hon."

"This, that, and the other thing. I’ve got some runnin’ around town with Dave to do tonight."

"Well," Barbara inched over and slid a delicate hand under Rob’s sports jacket. "When you get some free time, maybe we can find a way to relieve some of that stress you’ve got built up there."

"You’ll be the first to know when that free time comes around." Rob wrapped his thick arms around her slender waist.

"I’d better be."

A soft, lingering kiss passed between them and was quickly interrupted by the electronic bell accompanied by the reflective, steel elevator doors sliding open.

Both lovers broke away and tried to act casual. Two women in business dresses and a man in a suit stepped inside with Rob and Barbara to ride down to ground level. One of the women turned to the young couple just as the elevator resumed its descent and gave them a knowing smile. Barbara blushed at being caught, and Rob held back from beaming with pride.

The ride down concluded and the doors opened wide to the release the five passengers.

Rob and Barbara came out of the lobby arm in arm. On the sidewalk in front of Darison Technologies’ multiple glass doors stood Dave watching the sun set behind the surrounding skyscrapers.

"Hey, Dave." Rob greeted. "Zookeepers let you out early again."

"Good to see you too, Bobby." Dave said politely. "Hi, Barbara."

"Hi, going to talk to Sara anytime soon?" Barbara pleasantly asked.

"As a matter of fact, I was supposed to get in touch with her tonight." Answered Dave.

"When you do, tell her I said hi."

"Not a problem. So you ready to head off, Rob?"

"Yeah, man. I’ll talk to you later, Barbs."

"Call me if you get a chance." Barbara said. "We’ll talk about that free time."

"Count on it." Rob smiled.

"See you tomorrow." Barbara waved farewell. "Good to see you, Dave."

Rob sighed at the parting.

"Every time I see you two together, I wonder if there should be some Barry White music playing in the background." Dave stated.

"If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was the closest thing to a joke I’ve heard out of you in I don’t know how long. A few more nights with Sera at your place, and you might start actin’ normal."

"So what’s the free time you’re both looking forward too?" Dave asked as they began walking.

"Oh that? Well, I was wonderin’ if maybe you could have Kirn stay with you one of these nights."

"Say what?" Dave did a double take at Rob’s request. It stopped him in his tracks for a second before he jogged up to regain his pace with Rob.

"Just so me and Barbara can have the apartment to ourselves is all."

"My place is crowded enough as it is with Sera sleeping in my living room. Where am I supposed to put Kirn? In my shower stall with a pillow and blankets?"

"Come on, man." Rob pleaded. "We both know I can’t have the magic man around. Barbara thinks him and Sera have got their own homes here in the city."

"Why can’t you just spend the night at Barbara’s?"

"If I stay there every time we get intimate she’ll start to get curious. Besides, I’ve got the bigger bed."

"Ah, jeez." Dave shook his head in disgust.

"I’m askin’ for a favor because you’re my friend."

"Then take over teaching."

"Huh?" Rob turned to his fellow Shadowed One.

"Sooner or later, Kirn and Sera are going to need to be able to use computers. And they’re probably better off getting that kind of education from you than me. If you start teaching them that and give them more pointers on how to better fit in, then I’d be willing to consider helping you keep your love-life running smooth."

"You’ve got a deal, pal." Rob said gratefully.

"But for right now. Let’s make a stop on the way home. I think we need to get our guests some work clothes. Something in black, if you take my meaning."

"Gotcha. Mall?"

"Mall."

Thus the two skipped past the subway and took a new route in preparation for the coming night.

Sera was more than thrilled to see the door of the apartment open with Rob and Dave filing in. Both held more plastic bags, which they set on the kitchen counter.

"So what did we miss?" Rob asked.

"You missed watching me and Kirn stare at the walls here." Sera said. She voice didn’t portray any anger. In truth, having Rob and Dave around again was the highlight of the long day so far.

"I see you two have been shopping again." Kirn noted the bags.

"Just some more clothes we thought you’d need." Dave answered. "By the way, Sera, Barbara says hi."

"Tell her I said the same when you see her again."

"Now I haven’t seen anyone in New York sporting these yet." Kirn said, pulling a black ski mask from one of the bags.

"Just a little something to keep you from being recognized if you decide to tag along with me and Rob tonight." Dave explained.

"You know we wouldn’t want to live here with you lads if we weren’t prepared to help you out." The mage pulled the cloth mask over his head. "Kind of stuffy wearing this thing."

"They were the closest things we could find that resembled our shadowed forms." Rob pointed out.

"Just be thankful you’ll be wearing them in early November." Stated Dave.

"So when do we head out?" Sera asked.

"Not till late tonight." Answered Rob.

"So what are we supposed to do until then?" Sera inquired tensely.

"I apologize if my sister sounds a little agitated." Kirn put in. "But we have been in this building all day with little to occupy us."

"Don’t be sorry." Dave pulled up a wooden chair from the kitchen table and sat. "Neither of us were really expecting roommates."

"Makes me wish I still had all those video-games I used to keep around my old dorm at school." Rob concurred.

"Speaking of electronics, Rob…." Dave let the rest of his sentence trail into silence to drop a hint to Rob.

"Oh, yeah!" The large man brightened with remembrance, then turned his attention to the off-worlders. "Hey, Dave wanted me to start teachin’ the two of you about computers."

"I take it they’re machines too." Kirn said in an assumptive manner.

"Basically. Let’s head over to my apartment. We’ll boot up my laptop. Wanna’ come along, Dave?"

"I can’t really see what I could do to help." Dave scratched his head unconfidently. "I think I’ll just hang out here for a while."

"Suit yourself." Rob was out of the apartment and headed across the hall with Kirn following.

Sera stopped herself at the door and turned to Dave who remained in the kitchen with the plastic sacks sitting on the counter.

"Sure you’ll be alright here by yourself?" There was a hint of concern in her voice at seeing the young man sitting there all alone.

"Don’t worry. I’ve got things I need to look over." Dave pointed in the direction of the coffee table in the living room with its maps and notes.

"Alright. Don’t work too hard."

"Thanks for the advice."

Sera gave Dave one final look before closing the door on her way out.

Four rapid knocks on Rob’s door were heard at close to eleven that night.

Rob answered the door to find Dave yawning after a long session of studying. His jacket was tucked under one arm.

"Hey, it’s the hermit across the hall." Remarked Rob pleasantly.

"How goes Comp Apps One-o-one?" Dave questioned.

"Slow." Rob kept his voice low. "They’re havin’ trouble pickin’ up even the simple stuff like installin’ programs and deletin’ files. I gave them a few things to do on the net for now to work with, but that’s been goin’ just as bad."

"Have they been able to pick up on anything? I mean, it’s been a few hours now."

"Just some real basic commands. If it doesn’t involve clickin’ the mouse, they’re shit out of luck."

"Not the best news I’ve heard lately." Dave sighed before coming in.

The design of Rob’s apartment was similar to that of Dave’s. Spread across Rob’s kitchen counter was a jumbled stack of computer magazines. Rob’s walls were not as bare as the ones in Dave’s apartment. He had brought along a few sports posters to hang. Rob always held a preference for the more aggressive games of football and hockey.

"How are things with you folks?" Dave greeted Kirn and Sera seated in front of Rob’s laptop. The glowing screen displayed a web-site with the New Jersey Devils’ logo painted across the home page.

"We’re giving it our best." Kirn said. "But this plane Rob tells about where things don’t physically exist, it’s all so hard for us to grasp."

"It’s just going to take some time is all." Dave encouraged.

"Were you able to find anything out on your own?" Sera turned from the computer to address Dave.

"Nothing specific." Dave responded. "The Bronx has got a lot of history to it, even with stuff relating to magic. The Native Americans were there, doing their rituals. And who knows just how many tribes had lived there before the Europeans booted them out. Then you have all the millions of others crammed in there at present. People with even more diverse religions than the old tribes coming and going up to the point where the WMC eventually took power.

"The problem I’m running into right now is that there are so many possible leads with high potential for being dead ends that I can’t come up with the right direction to follow. At least not yet."

"But since you’re here now, I guess it’s time to head out." Rob assumed.

"Yeah. Sera, are you and Kirn up for some exercise?"

"If it means getting out of here for a while," Sera said enthusiastically. "Then let’s get going. No offense, Rob."

"None taken." Rob assured. "Hanging out can get old pretty fast."

"Let’s just hope Phillips isn’t expecting us to revisit." Cautioned Dave.

"Heh." Laughed Rob. "He’s had plenty of time to change his undies. Bout time he dirtied ‘em again if you ask me. Let’s clock in for the night shift and head out."

Kirn and Sera went for their coats and masks, and Rob shut down his computer. Then Rob and Dave locked up their apartments.

And where there were only two walking the city for Existence’s salvation there were now four. Thus the real test began.

The alley was familiar to Rob and Dave. The dumpster on the one side was still overflowing with refuse, and the smell of the place was motivation to go somewhere else. The back door to the building had been repaired since Wings had made a forced entry with his sword. A formidable, shining deadbolt was proof that the structure’s landlord spent at least some time and money for his property’s upkeep.

Rob checked behind him to see Kirn standing at the alley’s end. The wizard acted as the lookout briefly before giving a thumbs-up as he had been instructed.

"Lightin’ the candle." Rob said quietly and was then enveloped in the white light of the Spell of the Shadows along with Dave.

After the transformation, Kirn and Sera stood in awe at the two men in black costumes.

"I never thought I’d see the Spirits’ enchantment in action." Kirn stated with wonder.

"We’re still getting used to it ourselves." Wings added.

"When you change like that," Sera found herself asking. "Does it…. I don’t know. Does it hurt or anything?"

"Not really." Granite smiled behind the mask. "But it’s a little drafty for that one second."

"A few ground rules." Wings chimed in. "The worst we want to do is rough this kid up. The Committee has got a stack of charges they could hit us with already. I don’t want murder or manslaughter on the list. If Phillips has some armed friends over and things turn ugly, that’s another story."

"We might seem a little primitive, but we’re not barbarians." Sera’s voice was slightly muffled as she pulled on her own mask.

"Wings isn’t knockin’ you." Granite said in his friend’s defense. "He’d give the same speech even if you were from around here."

"Granite’s telling you the truth." Wings declared. "We just want to lay out where the line is drawn." His attention seemed distracted somehow. Nonchalantly, he began scratching the fingertips of one hand with those of the other.

"Granite and Wings?" Kirn ventured with uncertainty.

"When the masks are on." Granite pointed to the black cloth covering his face. "Until we change back, who we are is the only secret bigger than what the WMC and your dragon have been planning."

"Understood." Nodded the mage. "Still, I would feel far more at ease with my staff in hand."

"If you can find a way to make a five-foot long stick with a bird squattin’ at one end look inconspicuous on the subway outta Queens you’re more than welcome to bring it along." Granite said.

"I’ll see what I can do with the door." Sera told the others and knelt door to inspect the lock. She then reached into her pocket and withdrew a worn leather pouch.

Kirn and Granite stood patiently in wait. Wings, on the other hand, continued to be occupied with his digits.

"You gettin’ nervous there, man?" Granite asked in concern.

"What do you mean?" Wings looked up from his gloved hands.

"That." Granite gestured to his friend’s distracting hands. "You got a booger stuck on one of those, or what?"

"They just itch is all. Probably from that new glass cleaner they’re making us use on the mirrors this week."

"I don’t think it’s the cleaner." Kirn disagreed. There was something about the way he spoke that said he knew rather than thought Wings’ assumption was off base.

"What do you—aaaah!"

Wings suddenly found a number of involuntary actions triggering in his body. His pulse quickened and his adrenal gland jumpstarted into high gear. But what set these internal functions off was the most unusual physical effect his body ever initiated.

Those fingers poking out of black leather were changing. More precisely, the skin on his fingers was moving.

Sera turned away from her work and gasped. A short piece of wire fell from her grasp and bounced on the pavement. Granite was backing away a step. His jaws moved up and down, unable to fully manage speech. Kirn appeared to be the only one able to maintain a degree of calm while Wings was shaking uncontrollably.

Skin shifted quickly over fingernails, concealing them from sight.

Then the truly startling thing happened.

Wings gave another shout. This one was of both pain and surprise. His fingertips grew pointed and then a metallic spike ripped through the skin of each from pinky to thumb on both hands. A sound like metal sliding against metal accompanied the gut-churning spectacle.

The moving epidermis continued to knit itself in unexplainable ways around the talons without a single drop of blood shed.

With horror, Wings turned his hands to get a better view of them. Each new spike must have measured three-quarters of an inch long. They shined in the dim light of the alley like stainless steel.

Slowly, he flexed his fingers. The talons slid back into his digits with a shinking sound. The very muscle fibers of the Shadowed One’s hands had to have been altered to allow the sheathing and unsheathing of these new claws.

Wings forced his next words out with a ragged breath.

"What has Turoth done to us?" It was little more than a whisper when the question cleared his lips.

"I sensed a surge of energy from you." Kirn explained. "All I could tell was that the spell on you was about to do something."

Just seconds away from a complete nervous breakdown, Wings began to see that Kirn was detailing what had just happened in order to keep the others from panicking as well as Wings.

It took Wings a moment and three deep breaths to regain himself. He stood upright and looked to the three watching him.

"We’ll worry ourselves about this later." He said with a renewed determination. "Sera, how’s the door coming."

"Are you sure you’re alright, Wings?" Granite asked. "I mean you don’t get a manicure like that and just shake it off."

"I’m fine. Sera, the door?"

The young woman’s mouth hung open under the ski-mask until Wings’ question brought her back around. She bent over to pick up the wire she had dropped and reinserted it into the keyhole.

"The locks you people have on this world are like nothing I’ve seen before. The tumblers are so small." Sera reached into her pouch with her free hand and brought out a thin brass shaft. The activity of lock picking seemed to help refocus her attention off of what she had just witnessed.

"Can you open it?" Wings asked. He tried to keep his mind off the new sensation in his fingers.

"This one’s difficult," Sera answered, then gave the wire a gentle twist. A light click confirmed her success. "But not impossible."

"Where’d you pick that up, girl?" Granite asked.

"Trick of the trade." Sera returned. "So where’s our man?"

"Follow me."

Granite and Sera were the first inside.

Kirn was about to enter, when he felt Wings’ transformed hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks for helping me keep my head back there." The Shadowed One said gratefully.

"My nerves were about to get the better of me as well." Kirn admitted. "I just thought it would be best if Sera and Granite didn’t see our leader lose control."

"Well, let’s get this thing over with. I’ve had my share of surprises for tonight."

As the two rejoined the others inside, Wings found himself looking long and hard at Kirn.

Did he just call me the leader? Wings wondered. The four of them had never formally addressed the subject of who followed whom. He just thought they were all people with a common goal. The last thing Wings was looking for was leadership. Yet he could not deny there had been occasions these past days when he, as Dave, had been pointing out what needed done and how.

"Looks like the landlord can only get to one door at a time." Granite interrupted Wings’ train of thought once the Hawks had cleared the stairs.

Indeed, the seedy tenement house still bore signs of disrepair from the last visit. The door to Phillips’s apartment still hung loosely on one hinge, but was leaned clumsily into the doorway.

"Let’s try not to wake him just yet if he’s sleeping." Instructed Wings. "I’m getting sick of him pulling knives, and I don’t want to risk any of us getting hurt."

Was that an order I just gave? Wings found himself asking. It just seemed to come out.

Granite eased the door open carefully and closed it when all had entered.

"Bedroom should be right through here." Wings pointed.

James Phillips was in pleasant spirits. His back stretched comfortably across the wide beach reaching around him. For some reason, the shore was made of green feathers instead of sand, but that was just dandy with young Phillips. Straddled across his hips was the angelic figure of Kristina-Three, the pop-singer who had been breaking sales records since her first single came out on disc.

"Why is that thing so damn bright?" Phillips asked the starlet who was now rubbing jelly on his chest. He had been making reference to the radiant brown eyeball hovering in space where the sun was supposed to be.

Kristina-Three ceased in her kinky massage and opened her mouth to speak. Whatever words the singer with the pink hair said came out as a long string of barks that sounded like the call of a German shepherd.

"Guess it would only make sense." Phillips agreed.

Just then, the surreal landscape fell into a thickening fog. And across the waves of the ocean, Phillips could hear a voice saying his name.

"Not now!" He moaned to the unseen voice. "I’ve got business here."

The voice was louder this time. As the volume grew, James Phillips’ subconscious surroundings faded into obscurity.

"Wakey, wakey, Jimbo." There was something familiar about the voice the street tough was hearing, something unpleasant he could not quite identify.

Phillips opened his eyes and found himself staring at a masked face leaning over him.

"Holy--!" It was the only explicative he could manage before a huge hand caught him by the neck.

The first thought to cross the ganger’s mind was that the cops had been given the green light to finally arrest him. The second gave Phillips the knowledge that he was being raided by someone worse than the police.

"What the hell is this?" Phillips wheezed through his constricted trachea.

"A social call." Came the answer. The lamp in the corner of the bedroom flicked on. In the light, there was the man in black wearing the sword. "Granite, it should be safe to let him up."

"Same guys who broke in here last time." Phillips realized as the largest member of the four released the chokehold on him.

"Good to see your memory’s still holdin’ up." Granite said.

"Don’t bother going for your switchblade." The other man in black ordered at the sight of Phillips sliding a hand beneath the pillow under his head. "Sera found it before we decided to wake you up."

"I use the same practice when I travel." The woman standing at corner of the dirty mattress held up the knife in question.

"Four of you this time. What are you, the fuckin’ Gestapo?"

"You’ve got us confused with the Enforcers." Wings said. "We’re just people looking for answers."

"Look!" Phillips was quick to say. "I never told anyone about you guys?"

"Well, we can’t be all too sure about that." Argued Granite. "Ya’ see. A piece of Bronx real-estate was blown to bits not long ago. We turn on the TV the next day and the news says it was the work of some costumed terrorists. Now tryin’ to blow us up is one thing. But spreadin’ lies about us just pisses me off. Do you see where I’m comin’ from on this, Jimmy."

"You’re not gonna kill me?" Phillips shot up into a sitting position on the bed.

"That’s hard to say." Wings pointed out. "The four of us have been under some considerable stress lately. Take Kirn over there. He has ways to vent his aggressions that are often messy."

On cue, the mage stepped forward. His hands were together, almost as if in prayer. Softly, he whispered a few arcane words and separated his hands. Twins flames of orange ignited in his palms. The flames gave off no odor and did not burn the wizard.

"Oh shit!" Phillips exclaimed. "A Spirit."

"The Spirits were pacifists." Corrected Kirn. "I’m not."

"I’m personally not a violent man, myself." Wings brought himself closer to the bed. Like Kirn, he brought his hands up for display. "But like I said, the daily grind’s getting to us."

Right there, ten metal claws snapped out like the switchblade in Sera’s hands.

"Oh god. Oh man. Oh god." Phillips went on like this for a few seconds before Granite reasserted his grip on the youth’s throat.

"Now pay attention." Granite instructed. His voice was kept at a slow pace so the words could hit home. "We want answers. What activities does the Committee have planned that you know about."

Phillips did not answer. He was too busy staring at Kirn’s flaming palms and Wings’ spiked fingers. Seeing the problem, Kirn extinguished his spell and the Shadowed One sheathed his claws.

"Jimmy," Granite resumed his interrogation. "What do you know about what the Committee’s doin’ right now."

"Nothin’." Phillips spoke with a renewed tremor to his voice. "There’s just a truck pullin’ through."

"What is this about a truck?" Wings questioned.

"The suit at the last meet. He said they had a movin’ truck scheduled to roll through the Bronx in the next few days. They didn’t want anyone messing with it, so they told the gangs and the cops to leave it alone."

"You weren’t told what made the truck so special?"

"All the suit told us was that if anyone tried to hijack it, the Enforcers drivin’ would hit them with guns blazin’."

"Did the man you met with say when the truck would be moving?" Wings pressed.

"I don’t know, I think sometime late tonight."

"You’d better know the route that truck’s takin’." Threatened Granite.

And that was when the night just started to get interesting.

A transformation and train ride later, the four moved at a hurried pace.

"You two sure you know where you’re going?" Sera inquired. "I thought you said you’ve only been in this city for a few weeks."

"We’ve looked over maps of the whole city." Dave said.

"Just a quick glance," Rob tapped his head while jogging. "And the whole town is right up here. Gotta say this enchantment thing has its advantages."

"I’m just glad I got my old hands back." Commented Dave, clenching and unclenching his restored fingers.

"The claws will probably return with your shadowed form." Kirn told Dave.

"I can live with that."

"Something’s wrong here." Sera gestured to the sparse number of pedestrians. "After seeing so many people in this city. Doesn’t this street seem kind of under-populated?"

"We pieced that together when we downloaded some crime stats." Rob detailed. "We noticed it too. I broke into the NYPD’s report records for info on that. Turns out, over the past few months, there’s been less of a police presence. Whole place is a red-light district after dark. All the honest folks know better than to come out at night."

"I feel safer already." Kirn remarked.

"Thank the WMC for that." Said Dave. "I’ll bet the local police aren’t too happy about the heat they’ve been getting from the community, especially with the Committee telling them take it like men."

"Yeah," Rob laughed. "In the ass."

"Alright, Tremont’s the longest stretch of road on the truck’s route. So we’ve got the best chance of catching it here."

"Assuming we’re not too late." Kirn said.

"Let’s just hope not." Returned Dave.

Traffic on the street was non-existent. Yet there were still a few young ladies on the sidewalk, making a living as it as were.

"So what now?" Kirn asked.

"Guess we wait." Rob answered.

They did their best to look inconspicuous, standing about. Dave paced back and forth over a span of twenty-feet. Rob and the others stayed a bit more relaxed, leaning against the side of a closed newsstand.

A half hour went by with little activity. The group watched only four cars go by before anything of interest took place. Though it was far from what quartet had been anticipating.

"You look tense there." A coy voice drew the attention of the waiting group.

Two brunettes and a redhead who were twenty at most strutted up to the Stone Hawks. The skirts on the three young women were able to conceal very little. At least the winter coats they wore were better suited for the late autumn cold.

"Ladies like you are bound to catch something in this weather." Kirn took an appraising look at the trio. "You might want to get inside."

"Thanks for the advice." Smiled one of the brunette prostitutes. "Any of you looking for dates?"

"We’re just waitin’ for somebody." Rob said firmly.

"Hey, we’re party girls." Giggled the redhead.

"Be on your way." Sera instructed in a threatening matter.

"Look, why don’t you let the men speak for themselves here, bitch." It was the second brunette who was getting into the discussion now.

"They don’t need to talk with your kind." The young woman from Neddel looked ready to claw out the eyes of all three hookers.

"Sera!" Kirn hissed to his sister. "I’d think you could stay calm."

"Ya’ see." The redhead declared with pride. "I’d say you’re man there could use a change of pace. Maybe walk on the wild side for a few minutes."

"That’s my brother you ignorant wh--!"

The argument escalated no further. Tempers were put out in a flash of light that consumed Rob, leaving something even more intimidating in its wake.

"Sorry, girls." Granite growled as he drew the staff from its strap. "But we’re workin’ this corner."

Three screams were touched off by the transformation. Then, all three prostitutes bolted. Their spiked heels made a rapid flurry of clicks as they hit the pavement.

"There go our low profiles." Dave shook his head.

"Hey!" Granite said in his own defense. "Girlfriend here was about to go ape-shit. At least my method didn’t result in anyone gettin’ a bloody nose. Besides, we’ve now got this whole stretch of sidewalk to ourselves."

"Small miracles." Dave sighed and then he himself transformed into Wings.

"You didn’t need to get so upset." Kirn berated his sister. "They didn’t mean any harm."

"I’ve got to agree with your brother on that, Sera." Wings added. "We all need to keep level-headed if we want to stay alive."

"I just don’t care for those kind of women." Sera answered. "They don’t have respect for themselves or anyone else."

Kirn and Sera donned their own masks. And the four of them kept out of general sight the best they could in the shadows of the nearby newsstand.

"Was it wise to let them go like that?" Questioned Kirn. "One would think they’ll tell of what they just saw."

"This is New York, magic-man." Granite assured. "Freaky shit goes down here, but the Neddel hocus-pocus hasn’t been seen since the Spirits left. I doubt some beat cop’s likely to take testimony from hysterical hookers too seriously."

That seemed to put Kirn a bit more at ease. He then joined the others in hunkering down to wait.

"I’m tellin’ you!" The young redhead in the white fur coat shouted venomously. "There was this big damn flash that made everything dark!"

"You don’t say?" The police officer nodded. He was a local cop who commonly worked the north border of the Bronx. Occasionally on nights like this, the officer would venture in to do the "protect and serve" routine. The chief had given orders to the entire precinct to stay out of the area, but a quarter of the officers and at least a dozen detectives broke that rule. The Bronx was dangerous and there were still good people living there. People who didn’t deserve to have their lives put on the line for the sake of the Committee’s bull.

Right now, this lone officer was conferring with three young women of questionable morals, and possibly questionable sanity.

"We know you’re makin’ fun of us." The redhead acknowledged the officer’s visible lack of interest.

"Not at all, miss." The cop said over a yawn. "You say this real big guy lit up real bight and somehow it got dark."

"Exactly!" One of the two brunettes stepped forward. Her pink, rubber, thigh-high boots squeaked as she came forth. "Then the flash ended and this big bastard is all in black, wearin’ a ski-mask and pulls out this huge stick!"

"Light that makes it dark. Black clothes and a stick." Officer drew a small notepad with a stubby pencil placed snugly within the pad’s spiral binding from under his hat. His voice was filled with boredom as he jotted down the statements mockingly. "And you met these people on Tremont?"

"For the third damn time!" Brunette number two flashed the officer an aggravated glare at the policeman. "Yes, it was Tremont just off of Bathgate!"

"Just checking the details." The officer then covered his mouth as he coughed. But the movement was really intended to conceal a momentary smile. "You ladies haven’t been to any parties tonight? Maybe stopped at a bar?"

"Fuck this shit!" The redhead turned away in disgust. The two other women followed suit and began walking away.

"Please." The cop brought his hands together and begged melodramatically. "Your testimony can put away this man with his big stick."

"Suck it, pig." The one brunette with leather tassels hanging from her arms shot back without breaking stride.

The brunette in the rubber thigh-highs spun three hundred and sixty degrees, displaying her middle finger for the whole rotation.

"Get bent, toothdick." The girl with the red hair didn’t even bother to turn her head to utter the insult.

"God love the ladies of the night." The officer shook his head.

Once the three prostitutes were long gone, the policeman put the pad back under his hat. He rubbed at a red patch of acne on his left cheek that had been bothering him all week before unzipping his jacket. From the inner pocket he pulled a small cellular-phone and dialed up a number.

The officer heard three rings before his call was answered.

"Marcus." The voice on the other end said.

"Hey, bud. Good to hear you kept your mobile on this time."

"Mitch!" Marcus’s voice returned good-naturedly. "Haven’t seen you since Dallentine called that meeting Saturday. What’s up?"

"I think I found those kids you put on the milk carton." The cop informed.

"How and where?" The voice immediately went serious.

"Three hookers showed up real freaked. Thought they were tripping on angel dust or some shit when they described a big guy in black. I figure it might be one of your boys. Girls said they saw them around Tremont and Bathgate."

"I’m heading there now."

"You want me to hold them for you? The girls said there were four in the group."

"Four?" Marcus was audibly surprised. "Are you sure they didn’t say two?"

"Nope, four. Three guys and a woman."

"Damn, this complicates things if there are wet-works involved. No, I’ll handle this. I want to bring them in with as little of a ruckus as can be managed, and badges can’t be too visible if Enforcers are patrolling. Get a hold of Prinn or whoever else is running the office this shift. I want all agents there to be ready for visitors."

"Gotcha." Confirmed the cop. "Just be careful going in."

"Thanks. Bye."

The policeman pressed the disconnect button on his phone. Taking in a deep lung full of smog, he dialed a new number. Like the first one, this number was untraceable. As the line rang, the officer resumed making his rounds.

Granite brought his arms high over his head and stretched lazily for what seemed like the twentieth time.

"Any guesses on what the Committee’s shippin’?" He asked the others.

Wings put in his two cents first.

"Seeing as how the Enforcers are supposed to be driving the truck, they don’t want any outside companies to know what’s being hauled. And if the truck isn’t part of a convoy with some kind of security, I’d wager they don’t want this freight to be noticed."

"Yeah, but what do you think’s in the damn truck?" Granite rephrased his question.

"I’d put my money on those guns you warned us about." Sera said. "If they’re as dangerous as you say, they would be the last thing I’d want in the wrong hands."

"They’re already in the wrong hands to begin with." Granite inserted. "Enforcers and cops are the only people out here with firearms. Though maybe the WMC’d want to start armin’ the gangs."

"Give them guns and the gang kids would just let the power go to their heads." Wings disagreed. "Someone would start waving a forty-five around claiming a block as turf and the whole thing would go downhill from there. I don’t think the Enforcers could contain that kind of situation for long. Then the honest cops would start to wonder where the guns came from and eventually make the connection."

"You really got off on those Psyche credits you picked up." Granite said in a burlesque manner.

"You’d be surprised what you can learn when you minor in Criminal Justice."

"Hear that?" Granite cocked his head toward the long strip of blacktop.

"That thundering noise?" Kirn said curiously. "Is that it?"

"Sounds like our truck." Wings declared. "Let’s get into position for this, Kirn. Granite, Sera, be careful on this."

With that, Kirn and Wings started jogging up the sidewalk.

"Natch, man." Granite gave a quick thumbs-up before turning to Sera. Without a word, he reached out and picked up the treasure hunter in his arms as if Sera were a sack of feathers.

"Well this could be interesting." Her eyebrows raised slightly.

"Don’t take this the wrong way." The burly gentleman said. "Barbara would beat my ass if she caught me gettin’ it on with Wings’ roommate."

"Of course not." Sera winked and Granite could see her face move under the mask in what must have been a smile. "Otherwise I’d have to stop playing with Wings."

"Heh. Okay, I see headlights. Here we go."

The twin low beams projected down Bathgate Avenue, signaling the approach of a vehicle. Turning onto Tremont, was a plain white, moving van. There were no business markings on the truck to suggest a particular company. Not even dirt clung to the sides of it, making the transport look just too clean to be on the seedy streets of the Bronx.

Granite, with Sera in his bulging arms, pulled back into the shadows of the newsstand. The truck did not slow as it went past the two, which was a good sign. They looked into the cab of the vehicle and saw the unmistakable helmets and visors of the Enforcers.

"Do they ever take that Stormtrooper get-up off?" Granite wondered aloud.

"Now?" Sera asked.

"Yeah." Said Granite. He ran out from behind the newsstand and into the road behind the truck. Granite felt Sera’s arms tense around his neck. The Shadowed One could not blame her. She, or anyone else for that matter, had never been carried by someone running at close to forty-miles an hour. The truck was now half a block ahead of them, and Granite was managing to close the distance.

A tap on the shoulder from Wings was the signal for the wizard to move. Kirn still felt constricted charging forward in his denim pants and would have preferred the familiar flow of his purple and blue robes.

Wings was moving alongside Kirn, drawing his sword from the sheath as if it were second nature for him. The headlights reflected off of cold steel and everything kicked into high gear.

Kirn went down to his hands and knees on the street, and Wings took a wide stance.

The approaching truck slowed to a halt before the two men standing in its way.

The Enforcer behind the wheel made no visible motion, save for downshifting. Or maybe he was reaching for his sidearm. The fed on the passenger side wound down his window and stuck his head out.

"You are blocking the passage of a World Management Committee vehicle." The Enforcer’s voice was controlled, even while yelling out from the window. There was no real aggression to his tone, yet it still remained commanding none the less. "Furthermore, two men fitting the description of one of you is wanted for acts of terrorism against the world government. You have been committing federal violations, and we have the authority to use lethal force as we see fit."

"I’m one of the guys you Enforcers are looking for." Wings stood rigid as he delivered his reply.

"And who is that with you?" The voice behind the visor demanded.

Kirn still crouched over the pavement. He was rocking forward and back in rhythm with a repetitive chant.

"Wouldn’t you like to know." As an afterthought, Wings began wishing that Granite would hurry the hell up.

The red brake lights let Granite know the moving van had reached Kirn and Wings.

Now came the time to test the theory as to just how powerful the Spell of the Shadows had made a person thus far.

"Hold on tight." He said to his burden.

Granite made a quick hop off one foot and then pushed off with both feet the instant gravity brought him back to earth. Granite felt one of the biggest rushes of his life as he was propelled high into the air, clearing the height of the truck in front of him and Sera. His jump arced down briefly with his feet impacting the shiny white roof of the truck’s cargo compartment.

He quickly put Sera down and reminded himself this was all planned out. On the street below were Kirn and Wings at the ready.

Upon seeing Granite and Sera landing on top of the moving van, Wings gave out a shout.

"Kirn, go!"

The mage let loose with his magic, and chunks of pavement tore free from the street and impacted against the truck’s grill and windshield. Hearing grinding rock hit against the steel and shatterproof glass was earsplitting. The barrage quickly damaged the headlights, and the street returned to its original darkness.

Between the wizard’s magical attack in front and two people landing on the truck’s roof above, the Enforcers were caught off guard. Both of them went for their weapons in preparation to open fire.

Too bad for the Enforcers that Granite and Sera made good use of Kirn’s distraction. Granite lowered himself down on the driver’s side and Sera swung to the passenger’s. Granite put everything he had into his left arm and punched. His fist broke the side window and shattered the driver’s tinted visor. The Enforcer’s head recoiled just as Granite felt the crunch that was a busted nose.

On the other side of the truck, Sera had her dagger drawn from the inside of her windbreaker. She managed to get a few quick stabs to the chest through the open window, but those left no wounds. Granite and Wings had neglected to tell her about the durability of kevlar.

The Enforcer reacted, grasping at her arm to wrench the knife away. That was when Sera knew she was in trouble. Franticly, she pulled at the man’s helmet in hopes of diverting his attention so she could strike an effective blow.

The helmet, tinted faceplate and all, came off, giving Sera the opening she needed. Her blade sank into the man’s throat and blood poured out. Sera caught sight of the face of the man just as the life drained from the body. Light brown hair shaved down to nearly the point of baldness and a harsh face with a hooked nose were concealed beneath the visor and headgear. He was human like her. Yet there was something unnatural about him. His expression was no contortion of pain or fear at the fact that he was quickly dying. It was as if the spark of life had never existed behind the pair of hollow brown eyes.

The first step of the mission was accomplished. No longer did the savage pelting of Kirn’s spell ring as Sera’s brother powered down. There was only the running engine to make its presence audible.

Wings stepped forward from beside Kirn who was coming back to his feet.

"Is everyone alright?" Wings called out. "Granite?"

"I’m good." Granite said, reaching through the window for the ignition. "Looks like the driver’s gonna be nappin’ for a while."

"Kirn?"

"Fine here. Just a little winded from casting."

"Sera?"

No answer came for the woman standing on the passenger side.

"Sera?!" Wings rushed over to her, hoping something hadn’t gone wrong with the raid.

Wings found her there, one hand holding onto the window frame for support, the other with a death-grip on her dagger.

"Sera. You’re okay, right?"

Sera still remained silent, her knuckles were white and there was slight tremor in her hand.

Wings was under the impression that this had been the first time Sera had taken another life. Lord knew the first time he had killed was a traumatizing experience.

He laid a hand on her arm, which extended to the still-warm corpse. That seemed to snap her out of the trance.

"What?!" She looked around quickly, as if suddenly being awoken by a slap in the face.

"Are you okay?" Again Wings voiced his question.

"I think so." Sera slid the bloody knife out from the body.

"I’m sorry." Wings let his hand go from Sera’s arm and closed the dead man’s eyes. "You never had to face this situation before."

"It’s not that." Sera pulled a patch of cloth from her jacket and wiped the blood from her dagger. "I’ve killed in battle before. It was just the way he looked at me. His face didn’t show anything. Even when I was struggling against him, it was like he was already dead."

"Psychologists call it distanced thinking." Wings told Sera. "They came up with the term to explain how Enforcers unquestioningly follow orders most people would turn away from. It’s supposed to have something to do with their training. You sure you’re fine?"

"Yeah. By the torch, it was just disturbing."

"We’ll talk about it more when we get home." Wings assured her. "Right now, let’s check out what we’ve got."

They both went around to the back of the truck where Kirn and Granite were in wait.

"Behind door number one…." Granite said dryly as he grasped the sliding door’s handle and pulled up.

The opening of the door triggered the cargo area’s internal lights to switch on. Illuminated, the hold was filled with stacks of wooden crates, all stacked neatly and spaced far enough apart to allow somebody to walk about inside.

Granite was the first one to climb onto the truck’s rear bumper and go in.

"Let’s do this quick." He told the others. "As soon as we know what the Committee’s shippin’, I want to get outta here before the locals get curious."

Yet unknown to any of the four, they were being watched. And the person watching did not hold residence in the Bronx.

It was times like these that Marcus actually treasured his connections with the Society. He had known about the WMC’s shipment going through the Bronx. The entire New York chapter of the Society was in know on that, and Marcus held just a passing interest for the unknown cargo that the Committee was bringing in. But the call he got earlier in the evening kept him from turning in for the night.

Marcus had been sure to park a reasonable distance from the streets of Tremont and Bathgate and walk the remaining distance.

He quickened his stride. If Thompson and Whitman were deciding to mix it up with some Enforcers, then things were likely to get ugly.

Then there was the noise.

Marcus could not identify exactly what kind of commotion was going on, yet he knew who must have been involved. The mercenary broke into a run and rushed forward. It took him only two minutes to reach what promised to be the sight where the action was taking place.

Sure enough, there was the truck parked along the side of the street. A giant pothole was torn open in the middle of the street and chunks of pavement were strewn everywhere. The whole front side of the truck looked like it had been through hell. The only explanation for the damage Marcus could give was some kind of explosive. However all the blacktop that was tossed about went from the modest crater directly to the truck.

The mercenary kept back from the scene. He wanted to further survey the area before he went out into the open to investigate. Avoiding the light of the street-lamps, he carefully circled the perimeter of the truck.

At its rear, were two figures Marcus found familiar plus two others in masks? It looked as though Dallentine was onto something when he suggested the boys in black were part of a larger group.

All four had climbed into the moving van’s cargo space. That was a plus for Marcus.

He hurried down out into the open, approaching the truck from the side to avoid being spotted by the four searching the back. The cab was his first destination. There, he found one Enforcer dead and the other unconscious.

Easing the driver’s door open, Marcus was able to get a better look at the fed. The downed Enforcer’s right arm was draped across one of his knees. Marcus bent down and found the man’s hand hanging just below a dark red button with a light of the same color flashing repeatedly.

The Committee always liked to keep scrutinizing eyes on their own operations.

"Shit," Marcus said under his breath.

"Almost got it." Sera told the others. The padlock came undone with a satisfying click. She pulled the lock from the latched crate and flipped open the lid. Styrofoam peanuts scattered everywhere as she dug a hand into the packing material. Her hand emerged from the green Styrofoam with chunk of plastic explosive the size of a brick bundled in solid layer of shrink-wrap.

"What’s that?" Asked Kirn. "Some kind of clay?"

"Be careful with it." Wings advised. "That ‘clay’ nearly buried me and Granite."

Sera immediately dropped the block of explosive back into the crate.

"Damn!" She exclaimed. "This stuff’s that dangerous?"

"Relax." Granite said reassuringly. "It only goes bang when it’s setup just right."

"Looks like the gangs aren’t getting the job done." Wings deduced. "I’ll bet the Committee plans to lay these all over the Bronx for whatever reason and then blame it all on some kind of terrorists."

"Like us?" Granite suggested.

"News reports are pinning the warehouse incident on us. Our reps are already off to a bad start to begin with."

"So now we’re left with the question of what to do with all of this." Kirn pointed out. "I mean this doesn’t seem like the type of material you just want to leave in your Committee’s possession."

"There’s too much to carry." Wings tapped a disfigured finger on a stack of crates while he spoke. "It won’t be long before Enforcers and cops come looking for this truck when it doesn’t show up on schedule, so we can’t just drive it back to our place."

"We could set all this off." Sera proposed. "Destroy it before it’s used by the wrong people."

"You ever seen the craters this shit leaves, girl?" Granite returned. "And nobody here is Rambo enough to even know how to rig C4 without it going up in our faces."

Just then, a noise came from outside of the cargo compartment. It sounded like one of the cab’s front doors being shut.

"Hear that?" Wings asked the others.

"I hear it and I don’t like it." Granite was quick to concur.

The engine started up, and everyone in the truck’s rear knew what kind of trouble they were in.

"Everyone out!" Wings yelled.

The moving van lurched forward violently, throwing the four off their balance.

"Son of bi--!" Was as much as Granite was able to exclaim before he tumbled against a column of wooden boxes.

Sera nearly fell out the door. A quick grip onto the gate’s sliding track was all that kept her inside.

"Who’s driving?!" Kirn hollered while the truck accelerated.

The possibility of the driver being one of the Enforcers was negated with the sight of two sprawled bodies left in the road.

Wings kicked out at a heavy crate that fell across his leg. Wood splintered and the floor was showered in Styrofoam. The truck took a sharp turn, and he was thrown to the side, bumping his head against another box on the way.

Kirn was the only one who kept upright and that was only because he was holding himself against the wall opposite of Wings.

"Okay." Granite kept one hand tight to his ribs from where he had fallen onto the crates. "Time to get a little pissed."

"Let’s find out who’s behind the wheel." Wings suggested.

"You know of a way to get to the cab while this thing’s movin’?" Granite said almost challengingly.

"I just might." With the tensing of his fingers, Wings made his claws snap out.

"You’re kidding, right?"

Wings thrust his left hand into a metal wall. After pulling back, he and the others saw four tiny holes perforating the wall.

"They’re sharper than I thought."

"Sharper? Hell!" Granite sputtered. "You hardly even tested those things and now you want to be a human fly?!"

Another sharp turn came, but all four of them were braced for the shift in momentum. Neither Kirn nor Sera gave their input to the discussion. They apparently decided that Wings knew what he was doing or they could not come up with a better argument than the one Granite was making.

"What I want is to find out just who we’re dealing with before we get driven to Manhattan or maybe worse. I’m betting that by now there’s a price on both our heads."

That seemed to bring Granite around to see Wings’ side. With a groan, the massive gentleman slumped his wide shoulders and turned to Wings.

"Just be careful out there, man." He cautioned.

"Always am." Wings nodded as he went to the door.

Cautiously, he reached to the outside wall of the van with both arms. Again, the claws sunk into the wall with ease and the small squeak of metal sliding roughly on metal. Once Wings was certain of his grip, he pulled the rest of his body out. His new talons held up all of his one hundred and fifty pounds, yet the activity was putting a considerable strain on his fingers.

He had decided to approach the cab from the passenger’s side. Trying to fight for the wheel while hanging from the outside of the driver’s door did not suit his tastes. With some luck, he could get into the cab and take whoever was hijacking the truck by surprise.

The dark figure yanked his right set of claws from the side of the truck and drove them back in, doing the same with his left set. Even with his enhanced abilities, it was difficult to drag himself hand over hand with his feet dangling down to the black blur that was a street. Wind caused the Shadowed One’s loose clothing to whip violently and made him think that perhaps he could have thought this whole thing out a bit better.

The truck was leaving the Bronx and entering an area where there were considerably more people out and about. Pedestrians and drivers alike caught a sight worth telling friends and family members later.

Wings could see the door drawing closer now. The ache in his fingers was more nerve-wracking than painful by this time.

Relief washed over him upon reaching the cab.

He pulled out the claws of his right hand one final time and sheathed them. Preparing his mind for what was sure to be a fight, Wings reached for the door’s handle.

"Buddy!" He yelled harshly as he swung the door open. "You’ve got some real explaining to do!"

At that point, Wings could have simply thrown himself at the driver. But he stopped short. He could have lunged forward and attempted to render this hijacker unconscious. But he stayed his hand. Having to stare down the barrel of high caliber firearm tends to do that to a person.

"Get in very slowly." The man holding the gun ordered.

Wings knew better than to argue. His enchantments made him more powerful than regular humans, but he was not willing to bet they could stop a slug from a semi-automatic.

The manner of the driver told that death was not a threat to Wings, it was a promise. The guy brought the pistol close to his hip and kept it aimed on the other man like a trained pro.

"Who are you?" Wings found himself asking.

The armed man shifted his eyes back to the road for the briefest moment then looked at Wings, as if sizing the masked man up.

"Relax, Whitman." He said. "If I wanted you dead, I would have shot you two blocks ago. Just get in."

That was when the real shock started to hit Wings. Without comment, he climbed into the seat and closed the door.

"What makes you think my name’s Whitman?" Wings questioned, hoping to get some information on how this man knew his real identity.

"Because I know your buddy Thompson is a hell of a lot bigger. And don’t start some kind of denial game with me. Been watching you for some time now. You and the others in the back have got an interesting style."

"Are you with the Committee?" That was greatest fear Wings found himself confronting.

"Just the opposite, pal. My name’s Adam Marcus."

"So what are you, then? A reporter who wants an interview with the warehouse bombers? Maybe a cop who wants a collar big enough to get him into the Enforcers?"

"I know you didn’t blow up that warehouse." Marcus said. "The WMC tried to take you out, but you and Thompson got away in time."

"We were lucky." Wings responded with an attitude of despair. So much for the masks and secret identities.

"Your cover hasn’t been completely blown. If the Committee knew who you were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. We only found out who you were when someone who met you before made the connection."

"So how much do you know about us?"

"Well, I was thinking we could drive somewhere that we could all compare notes." Marcus stated. "Though I’m curious on how you got up here. I saw you sticking to this truck like a spider."

Wings gave no verbal answer. He merely held up one hand. Five metallic spikes shot out in view.

"The fuck?!" Marcus exclaimed. In his surprise, he unintentionally lost his focus on driving, and the truck began to coast into oncoming traffic. A chorus of horns brought Marcus back to steering the vehicle. Tires screamed as the truck was brought back to right of center.

The claws slid into their fingers and Wings spoke.

"It looks like you don’t know everything about us." He said, regaining his confidence. "Let’s just save this little detail until we park. Now, I’m going to get something from my pocket."

With careful slowness, Wings brought out the mystical sphere Turoth had given him.

"Granite?" Wings said into the crystal ball.

There was a pause until the tiny orb was illuminated and a voice came from it.

"Wings." Granite’s voice answered. "What’s goin’ on up there?"

"We’re being taken somewhere for questioning. There is a man driving who knows about us. He says he’s not with the WMC, and I think I believe him."

There were no immediate words from the other end of the line. Wings could tell Granite was discussing the matter with Kirn and Sera.

"I say take him down." Granite finally came back.

"The gun in his hand is telling me otherwise."

"That clinches it! He’s a Committee boy after all."

"Either way, we’re going to have to wait until we get wherever it is he’s taking us." Wings said. "Just hang tight back there."

"I hear ya’ there. We’ll talk then."

Wings put the sphere back in his pocket and faced left to Marcus.

"Code-names." Marcus commented. "That’s cute."

"So where are we going?" Wings demanded. "And what’s with the wires?" They had just now caught his eye. The casing below the steering wheel looked as if it had been pried open with the said wires cut and hanging loosely.

"I did that." Marcus informed. "You should really check for alarms and transmitters when you pull this kind of stuff. As for our destination, it’s a little place in Brooklyn I know of. So until then, enjoy the ride."

The conversation just seemed to end there. Marcus did not seem willing to divulge any more information just yet. So Wings took what solace he could from the quiet time and gathered his thoughts.

I’m sitting in a truck with a gun aimed at my stomach. My fingers can now sprout claws. Three of my friends are waiting in the back with a full load of plastic explosives to keep them company. And Kirn thinks of me as the leader? He needs to pick a better candidate.

Tilting his head back, Wings felt the hilt of his sword brush against his neck. Then, he began staring out his window and merely let the miles go by.

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