Rob hunched forward in his chair to judge the actions of his pupils.

"Okay, Kirn. Just uninstall the program."

Kirn rubbed his thumb uncertainly across the mouse built into the keyboard of Rob’s laptop computer. The white arrow on the screen moved lazily among the icons.

"Still having trouble grasping this concept." He replied to Rob, still doing little more than fumbling with the controls on the system.

"Just take it easy, man." Rob said calmly. However, one could tell he was using his utmost control to keep from venting his annoyance. Teaching Kirn and Sera how to operate mundane programs like office applications was turning into a headache for the Shadowed One. Still, given the fact that Neddel’s inhabitants were still trying to map their world, asking two members of the populace to absorb twenty-first century Earth technology was a rather tall order to fill.

The one bright side to the situation was the fact that Kirn, and especially Sera, was showing a healthy interest in getting educated. As Kirn operated the computer with little success, Sera watched intently from the chair next to her brother’s.

Kirn clicked away on the mouse for another minute with no results before he pushed away from the table in frustration.

"Your turn to have a go at this, Sera." The wizard sighed to his sister.

Sera settled down in front of the computer. Her fingers came to rest upon the keyboard. Chewing on her full lower lip, she focused on the task at hand. Cautiously, Sera moved the cursor about the screen to the menu of commands lining the upper left-hand corner. She clicked on the mouse as if it were more a feat of will than intellect, pausing between each action to make sure she was doing everything correctly. Another click of the mouse resulted in a box appearing on the screen with the words, "FILES REMOVED FROM HARD-DRIVE" in bold black letters.

"Congrats." Rob smiled like any proud instructor. "You are now one step closer to being computer literate."

"Thanks, Rob." Sera said. "I knew we would start to pick up on this sooner or later."

"So when do we go back on-line?" Kirn asked eagerly the moment the thought struck him.

Sera groaned in disgust. She and Rob were already quite familiar with the source of Kirn’s desire to get on the information super-highway.

"We’ll have you downloading net porn again soon enough." Rob reassured the spell-caster. "But I think after we wrap this lesson up, we’ll snatch Dave out of his place and get some dinner. How’s that sound to you people?"

"I’m getting a little famished." Kirn said. "Sera, are you hungry?"

"Sounds good here. I’ll check with Dave when I see him." Answered Sera.

"Still shut up in his room, huh?" Rob ventured a guess.

"He’s been looking at Arkin’s spell book all evening." Returned Sera. "He hasn’t been speaking much since we spoke to the Society either."

"Dave’s just broodin’." Rob put in at seeing the worried look on Sera’s face. "He gets like that a lot when touchy stuff comes up."

"So you think he’s alright?"

"Just his mood is all. Kirn, you wanna’ give another go at this now that you’ve seen Sera pull it off?"

"I’m willing." Said Kirn confidently before again switching places with his sister.

Rob leaned over the sorcerer’s shoulder to watch the monitor. The lesson resumed, and across the hall outside of the apartment another was dealing with his own learning experience.

* * *

Years had gone by for Dave with hardly the slightest clue of what the arcane writing in the Spirit’s book had meant. Working with the alien text had often been the rough equivalent of trying to translate ancient Egyptian without a Rosetta stone. But now things had changed so much.

Enchantments now magnified Dave’s mental facilities. Symbols which barely held meaning to him before were suddenly clear as written English to him, thanks to the Spell of the Shadows.

The spells described in Arkin’s text were a far cry from what Dave had witnessed from Kirn or the Spirits. There were no incantations for magic to strike an opponent down with lightning or put a hex on somebody. Rather they were spells resulting in non-lethal effects like starting small fires, purifying water, and warding off wild animals.

As for the pages that acted as Arkin’s diary, Dave found himself leaping from entry to entry to better understand how the Spirits must have felt upon first encountering Earth. Dave felt himself transfixed with one entry in particular.

It read:

Dave read the entry over a second time as he reclined back on his living room couch. Everyone from government agencies to psychology professors would probably be willing to sell their souls to be reading just half of the material in the diary if they were able to translate the cryptic writings like Dave or Kirn could.

He was about to start reading another page from the diary when the phone rang. Dave reached behind him and picked up the receiver from the stand beside the sofa.

"Hello." He answered.

"I’ll tell you now that the line is secured, so we can speak freely." It was Dallentine’s thick voice that was heard.

Immediately, Dave sat up from his comfortable position. His attention was gone from the Arkin’s spell book and focused solely on the call he was taking.

"What’s up?" Dave asked.

"Turn on your TV. Flip over to channel eight." Dallentine instructed.

Dave took the remote from the coffee table and did as he was told. An evening newscast came on. The anchorman sat behind his desk with the semi-cheerful yet bland attitude that went with his job. In the corner of the screen was a picture of President Fredericks with the word "Anniversary" just underneath the image.

"What many people refer to as the world’s Fourth of July will be coming up tomorrow. The World Management Committee will be celebrating its second anniversary, commemorating two successful years of maintaining the peace, lowering crime, and boosting the economy. President Michael Fredericks is to take part in festivities being held in the East Village. Other celebrities appearing will include Mayor Molly Kole, Head Constable Joseph Burkar, Attorney General Rebecca Karlile among others. The night will end with a fireworks display and a brief concert done by none other than New York’s own pop culture icon Northernly."

"Can’t say seeing that makes me happy." Dave said over the phone.

"The crime rate is still high and the economy’s been a lot better than what the media let’s on." Dallentine returned. "WVGC is a Committee affiliate, but that detail’s kept off the records."

"So I take it the Society wants us to be involved in the whole celebration."

"Marcus will be over to pick you up tomorrow afternoon at four-thirty. Be out front waiting for him. You’ll be briefed here."

"We’ll be ready."

"Until then." Dallentine said, then hung up on his end.

Dave began to get a sinking feeling in his stomach, as if there was a lead ball resting in his gullet. Whatever Dallentine had in mind, it was definitely more serious than anything the Stone Hawks had dealt with before. For all intents and purposes, it looked like they were about to face off with some of the most powerful individuals on Earth.

Arkin’s book was laid on the coffee table, and Dave headed for the door.

* * *

Kirn was finally starting to succeed as Sera just had when a knock came at the door and Dave entered.

"Word up, hermit." Rob greeted.

"I just got a call." Dave announced to the others. "It turns out we’ve all got some work ahead of us."

The three seated at the table were able to figure out Dave’s statement quick enough.

"When?" Kirn asked grimly.

"Tomorrow." Replied Dave. "And I don’t think it’s going to be too pretty."

Dave took a seat in the living. Rob, Kirn, and Sera gathered close to get filled in on the details. Anticipation and dread both haunted the four until the next day.

* * *

Marcus was right on time, that following afternoon. Again, he was behind the wheel of the same van that had been used to drop the four off after the last visit with the Society.

Sera sat on the cement stairs leading down from the apartment complex’s front door until the van came to a complete stop. She stood and got in with the others. Like last time, Rob rode shotgun beside Marcus.

"Afternoon folks." He said in a cheerless voice.

"So what does Dallentine have in mind?" Dave questioned.

"Honestly, I don’t have much of a clue." Answered Marcus. "Just has something to do with the President’s appearance. It’s not often he comes out of Manhattan."

"You don’t think he wants us to try and pop the big man, does he?" Asked Rob. The idea of assassinating Fredericks was a notion that clung in the minds of all four people, yet such a crime hung ill with each.

"Heh. If that were possible, we’d have done so years ago." Marcus said humorlessly. "At least, I would have. Besides, I don’t think Dallentine would be ready to throw you away so quickly."

Whatever mission the Society had in mind, at least one possibility had been put to rest.

Marcus drove back into the traffic that was starting to grow thicker with the coming rush hour.

At first, there was no talking amongst anyone in the car. But it did not take long for the silence to grow more than a little disturbing with the risky situation likely to be ahead.

"How did things go with the lessons today?" Dave asked.

"Things were goin’." Rob replied. "A few rough spots here and there."

"Well, Sera’s picking up some skills." Kirn said. "I’m still having a fair share of troubles."

"It just takes some time." Sera consoled the mage. "You need to keep at it is all."

"I just feel like I’m wasting Rob’s time."

"Hey, the only disappointment I’ve had this week is the fact I’m gonna miss the game on TV tonight." Said the burly man up front.

"I’ve got fifty bucks set against Pittsburgh." Stated Marcus.

"Better be ready to lose that to whoever you’re betting with." Returned Rob.

"I’ve seen their new tight end play. Can’t say I’m impressed."

"As if Malone can throw."

The debate went on between the two. The conversation between Rob and a man they knew so little about worried Dave a bit. Still, he had to admit there was something in the atmosphere around the mercenary that just made the level of stress drop a few degrees. It wasn’t as if any crucial information was being shared. Besides, the Society seemed well aware of the majority of the Stone Hawks’ secrets. Odds were they could have known what brand of toothpaste was in their bathrooms.

For the time being, Dave decided to sit back and let Rob and Marcus ramble on. Rob was more than sharp enough to know what information to give out, anyway.

And so they waited.

* * *

Marcus brought the four back into the conference room in the Society headquarters after the drive to Brooklyn. Dallentine sat in a swivel chair with a half-smile on his face. The Society leader motioned with a hand to the other chairs encircling the table. In response, the Stone Hawks and Marcus sat down.

"So what’s this test you have set out for us?" Rob asked.

"I think you might actually enjoy this little assignment. Low risk, high visibility, and an excellent chance to stand on your soapbox and pinch Fredericks’s nose."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Questioned Dave.

"All with the aid of the President’s world communications network." Returned Dallentine. "We had been setting up a small protest to coincide with the public appearance. Nothing major or violent. Just a little noise to hopefully make people start questioning the status quo."

"And how do we fit in?" Dave pressed.

"As I’ve told you, the Committee’s information on us is rather limited at this time. We’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible. If you were to happen to shake things up in the Society’s place, then we’d rattle the Committee’s cage and keep the heat off ourselves."

"You said low risk." Sera brought up a key point. "How so?"

"Enforcers are working all kinds of security around the President." Dallentine said. "But further away, in the crowds, it’s all NYPD, and we have some pull with the police here. You should be able to disrupt Fredericks’s speech and make an escape long before the Enforcers can mobilize on you."

"And this is all you want before we get put on Rebirth?" Rob ventured suspiciously.

"Trust me. I’m sure the real danger will start when you go poking around in the WMC’s pet project. This is just a warm-up and an opportunity to see how you might react in the field."

"So how is this mission supposed to fly over?" Rob turned slightly back and forth in his chair.

"Marcus will be on sight as team leader." Answered Dallentine.

"Good of you to wait till now to consult me on this." Commented Marcus coldly.

"Things have been happening quickly." Dallentine stated challengingly. "We’ve all had to work details out on the fly lately. I would have thought you’d be capable of that."

Marcus’s face turned red. He looked ready to cut loose on his employer, yet held back. It was neither the appropriate time nor place for an argument to begin. Seeing a need to defuse a volatile situation, Kirn stepped in.

"How do you propose we ‘disrupt Frederick’s speech’, as you say?" He asked, changing the subject effectively.

"I think that will be the part you’ll enjoy most." Was Dallentine’s reply.

* * *

"Them be some big damn speakers." Granite remarked for the tenth time. "Kinda’ reminds me of the ones Man-O-War used to practice on."

He sat, like Wings, in his shadowed form. Kirn and Sera also had their masks on. This time, Kirn had his robes on and staff handy after a brief stop by their apartment building. All four of them were in the back of the very same truck in which the Stone Hawks had discovered enough C4 to level five blocks of New York real estate. The Society had taken the time to change the truck’s plates, give it a new paint job along with some quick repairs to the front, and voila, the moving van was practically untraceable to the Committee.

The crates of explosives were gone, however. In their place was a massive loudspeaker system, which Dallentine claimed could produce up to ninety decibels of attention-drawing sound. Four round subwoofers, each measuring a yard in diameter, were mounted into the speakers, assuring that Dallentine was not just bragging. The setup already had scuffmarks on top from scraping the upper section of the truck’s cargo entrance. A narrow strip of empty space across the side of the cargo area was the only room in which the four could wait out the ride to the East Village.

"The Society’s certainly putting some impressive funding behind this little test." Sera said after Granite’s remark. Her voice raised slightly to be heard over the rumble of the diesel engine.

"Right now, it’s just painting a bigger bulls-eye on us." Said Wings. His voice told that the high profile mission was making him noticeably edgy. "The more resources it looks like we have the bigger the threat the Committee will see us as."

"I wonder how long it will take them to find the connection between us and the Society." Questioned Kirn.

"Dallentine probably has his people feedin’ all the right misinformation to all the right people." Granite uncrossed his legs to get better circulation. "Sure doubt the Society would send us out and not take care to cover their own tracks."

Everyone seated felt their momentum shift as the truck turned at a corner.

"So who should do the talking here?" Questioned Kirn.

"I think it should be you, Wings." Sera suggested.

"Don’t give me the mike." Said Wings. "I’m horrible in front of crowds."

"He still gets flashbacks from that time his mom made him sing in that talent-show." Commented Granite.

"Fine, Bobby. I nominate you to lead this protest."

"Me?! You think I--?"

Granite’s argument was brought to a halt by three sharp knocks from the cab. It was Marcus’s signal that they were coming up on their destination.

"Looks like the curtain’s going up here." Wings stated.

Kirn and Sera took their cue and pulled on their own masks. Then all four of them stood carefully as they felt the truck slow to a halt.

The cab door up front slammed shut dully. A moment later, the door of the back compartment slid open. Despite that the sun had gone down long ago, the team members found themselves temporarily blinded until their eyes adjusted to the illuminated conditions outside.

"I’m gonna need a minute to get the system up and running." Marcus announced before climbing up into the hold.

Once their vision came back into focus, the Stone Hawks all took in the location with awe. While parked along the side of a street, the truck was at the edge of an immense crowd that stretched down to the intersection two blocks away where the night’s main attraction was scheduled to start. At the crossroads in the distance, a wide stage had been erected with lights and audio systems set up. A forty-foot screen stood over the platform, showing an enlarged image of the set below for the masses standing at a distance. Near the stage was a smattering of vans belonging to the local media. Holding the reporters at bay were Enforcers working crowd control. More of the government’s personal security force were sure to be hidden somewhere nearby working surveillance, perhaps even walking amongst the waiting citizens with their eyes open for potential assassins.

"Damn." Was the first word uttered by Granite upon scanning the area.

A few people within the crowd were starting to take notice of the truck with the masked figures standing inside.

"What’re these guys? Some kinda’ groupies?" Came a hollered comment from one of the more vocal spectators from somewhere in the mass.

"One hell of a debut we’re making here." Said Kirn, straightening his mask with one hand.

"This is so effed-up." Granite stated. "Tell me we’re not about to do this thing."

A squeal of feedback cut in. However the shrill noise did not come from speakers loaded in the truck, rather from the stage where the night’s major event was just beginning.

The noise from the crowd toned down somewhat. A spotlight came to life, beaming down upon the podium at the center of the stage.

From behind the navy-blue curtains hanging at the stage’s darkened back stepped a middle-aged woman in an exquisite gray business dress. It was one of the President’s many press secretaries whose entire careers revolved around moments like this. Her brown hair was pulled back so tightly, one was left to wonder whether the style caused her some kind of physical discomfort. A bland smile was pasted on her aging face as she took her place behind the podium.

"Ladies and gentlemen." She bent forward slightly to speak into the microphone rigged to the stand. "Four years ago, America demanded a change. The world demanded a change."

The declaration brought a mixed response from the masses. While for the most part, cheers resounded amongst the standing citizens, there were still sizable patches of people who stood silently brooding as they listened to the press secretary go on.

"Four years ago, we were given the start of that change with a new President of the United States. And today, four years later, we are continuing to change, to refine our way of life as human beings. We all know where that change came from.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give our commander-in-chief, head of the World Management Committee, President Michael Fredericks!"

The secretary had done her job well in working up the crowd. The masses whose numbers swelled in the thousands threw up their hands, voices united in uproar and hands applauded in a cacophony of admiration.

A second spotlight came on, throwing a circle of illumination to the curtained area from which the press secretary had emerged. Right on cue, President Fredericks stepped out. Constable Burkar was following close behind the President, walking tall and confident. The press secretary, who was now clapping along with the crowd, came away from the podium and relinquished control of center stage to the President. She took her place just behind the world’s leader, next to Burkar who had his own publicity face painted on.

"I’d love to see this pack’s reaction if they knew they were praising one of their own murderers." Sera chimed in grimly.

"Tell me about it." Said Granite.

The applause died down, all the while, the giant monitor above the stage projected Fredericks’ smiling face as he took in the people’s adoration. It was then that the President took the opportunity to address the citizens.

"My friends, we are at a new threshold for the human race." Fredericks’ spoke crisply into the microphone, his voice rolled out firm and backed with confidence. "Two years ago saw the formation of one world united for the good of humanity."

"Marcus, how’s things going back there?" Wings asked over his shoulder.

"We’ll be online in just a few seconds." Answered Marcus.

"Time to make some noise." Granite announced.

Marcus came out from truck’s interior and stood with the others at the cargo door. His hand raised, holding a microphone with a wire running from it to the sound system in the truck.

"Good to go." The mercenary said. "Just flip the switch and start talking."

"I got this covered." Declared Granite. "Hope this makes you happy, Wings."

Two blocks down the street, President Fredericks continued with his own speech.

"Fellow citizens," Fredericks said. "The World Management Committee is here to lead us all to the next phase. And while many philosophers may argue that a Utopia is impossible to achieve, we are still going to do our damnedest to prove them wrong!"

"What a load of bull!" A new voice bellowed to the crowd now. However, Granite’s came out with a notable bit of static and the feedback following his outburst was none too pleasant. Everyone within a twenty-yard radius brought their hands to their ears and groaned at the ninety-decibel squeal.

The world just seemed to hold its breath at that moment. Thousands of heads turned away from the stage in the intersection and to the moving van parked a quarter-mile away. The four standing in the truck were held in place by the impact of having the full attention of what had to be at least twenty thousand people.

Marcus, who had been standing in the background at the time, came forward and nudged Granite in the ribs.

"Go on!" He muttered low enough to avoid the pick-up of the microphone. "This is what Dallentine sent us all out here for."

After getting shaken back to reality, Granite nervously spoke again into the mike.

"The Prez is lyin’ to us all." He told the listening throngs. His voice remained considerably lower now to avoid a repeat screeching from the speaker system. "I know that doesn’t sound surprisin’ to you folks. After all… he’s a politician."

Granite and the others looked back to the stage where Fredericks was watching. The screen up above no longer displayed the face of the President. Instead, it showed a distance shot of the truck in which four masked individuals stood in protest.

"Now we’re here to give you the shreds of the truth the President, his cabinet, and the whole friggin’ government doesn’t want you to hear. And the people who uncovered the truth weren’t even from this world. You probably all remember the Spirits. Buncha’ guys and girls who showed up in robes, lifted a car in between the soap re-runs, and made half the religious community collectively shit itself."

The crowd listened more attentively with the reference made to the Spirits. There were still those among the crowd who wrote off the alien wizards as nothing more than charlatans, but the consensus of attention was still given to Granite and the others on their perch.

"How am I doin’?" Granite asked over his shoulder.

"Sounding good so far." Sera complimented.

Wings gave his partner a thumbs-up, further boosting the entire group’s confidence.

"Just wrap this thing up quick." Ordered Marcus. "Security’s going to be on our ass in a few minutes."

"What?!" Wings exclaimed, while Kirn and Sera looked about hurriedly.

"Check your two, right around that bank."

They all looked to where Marcus had indicated. Sure enough, over a dozen Enforcers were pushing their way through the thinner parts of the crowd, moving towards the truck.

"Okay, then." Said Wings. "Let’s cut this short. The second Marcus shuts down the system, we’re out of here."

Marcus took one more cautious look at the crowd before ducking back behind the speakers to begin closing shop.

Granite brought the microphone up to his mouth again to speak. All the while, the Enforcers were pushing on through the citizens.

* * *

President Fredericks seethed at the distant truck that now served as the center ring for an idiot in black with a mouth to speak.

"Why haven’t the police moved in on them?" He gritted out bitterly.

"They say they have their hands full with the people as it is." Burkar answered with an equal degree of anger.

"Useless pieces of refuse. What about the Enforcers?"

"They’re making their way as we speak."

"They won’t get to the Shadowed Ones in time." Scowled Fredericks. "Order them to open fire the instant they’re in range of a good shot."

"Excuse me?" Burkar sputtered.

"This whole escapade has been planned out, maybe by the Spirits."

"I thought the Spirits were no longer of consequence."

"They’re not supposed to be." Reasoned Fredericks. "Give the order, I want nothing left to chance here."

"And the people gathered out there?" Asked Burkar. "I can’t guarantee there won’t be casualties."

"All those sheep are dead. The reality of it just hasn’t caught up with them yet."

The corners of the constable’s mouth turned up just slightly.

"Done." He said in a soft tone and then walked off the stage.

* * *

Wings’ dark eyes continued to keep track of the Enforcers’ approach. The group had now broken into two separate squads, more than likely in hopes of assaulting the truck in a pincer-like formation. With any luck, Marcus would have the engine started and the truck moving before the five of them wound up arrested.

Granite had resumed his speech to the audience. And while the spectators did not appear to be taking what Granite said all too seriously, they were still giving him their attention.

"Now do we expect anyone here to believe that the government is marchin’ us all off a cliff and intends to cash in on the corpses? Hell no. Should we think that you are all gonna believe that the same forces the Spirits used are bein’ set up for a purpose so whacked out, I can’t even begin to explain? Course not. But it’s why we crashed this party tonight."

"What do you think is going on with them?" Kirn nodded in the direction of the Enforcers.

Wings looked closely at the federal agents in their riot gear. They had stopped all of a sudden. A few brought a hand up to their helmets; radio systems had been built in the headgear apparently.

"Let’s hope their not calling for roadblocks." Said Wings. "In any case, we might have complications."

The Enforcers took a few more steps forward, and then, almost in sync with each other, they reached down to the sides of their belts. Several panicked screams burst out among the citizens nearest to the Enforcers as their weapons were drawn and aim was taken on the van.

"Everyone down!" Yelled Wings.

He dove forward and caught Granite around the waist. The two men tumbled to the floor of the cargo area just as fully automatic gunshots erupted from the street. Sparks flew from the ricochets striking off the steel frame of the door.

All around, panic broke out among the teaming bystanders. Some of them went to the ground, hoping to avoid the fire, but those were the first to be trampled as the majority suddenly struggled to get away from the unexplainable violence.

"God damn!" Hollered Granite, dropping the microphone to his side. "What the hell do they think they’re doing?!"

"I think that would be rather obvious!" Answered Kirn over the wails of hysteria.

"But all these people jammed together." Wings said uncertainly. He ducked his head as more gunfire beat against the truck.

"Are in danger." Said Marcus. "I really don’t think we have time to talk this out."

"Then let’s haul!" Insisted Granite.

A clearing was starting to form as the crowd hurriedly escaped the pandemonium. Several bodies, either crushed in the horrible press for escape or inadvertently shot were left sprawled out in the widening strip between the Enforcers and the truck.

"I’ll get to the cab," Marcus told the others from his laying position. "You just try to buy us some time."

With that, Marcus reached into his jacket and drew his pistol. Coming to his feet, he let off three shots at the Enforcers. One helmeted man took the bullets square in the chest and collapsed to the street as the rounds impacted against his body armor. The other federal officers tactically scattered to take better positions.

Taking advantage of his attack’s effect, Marcus jumped down from the back of the truck and made his way around to the cab. All around him, citizens were still running off in terror, congesting the street alongside the truck.

With Marcus gone from the immediate action, the others took what cover they could within the small compartment. Kirn ducked off behind one of the speakers. Granite and Wings took what little cover they could find on opposing sides behind the doorframe. Sera took refuge closer to the front of the truck, where she stood at the wall separating the rear area from the cab.

"Not good." Wings understated. "Kirn, we could use some firepower up here!"

The mage poked his head out from behind the massive speaker array. Immediately, more shots were fired from the Enforcers. Bullets punched maliciously into the audio system, forcing Kirn to pull back.

"Hold them off!" Yelled Kirn after a moment.

"With what?!" Exclaimed Granite. "We didn’t exactly come packin’ heat!"

"You’re the ones with the enchanted weapons!"

Wings turned from the charging Enforcers and the surrounding crowds to look at Granite.

"You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me." Granite said, discounting the idea.

Wings’ only response was his hand reaching back to draw his sword.

Towards the front, Sera banged incessantly on the wall separating the cargo area from the cab.

"We’d really like to be moving, Marcus!" She yelled harshly over the sounds of chaos.

A slit opened up where Sera could see the back of the mercenary’s head.

"We’re parked in the middle of a Who concert!" Responded Marcus, his voice significantly muffled from the driver’s seat. "People are packed in tight here! Won’t get more than ten feet and a pile of pedestrians here."

At the back of the moving van, Granite was pulling the wooden staff from over his shoulder.

"Kirn!" He called as another succession of bullets sparked off the doorframe. "How do we work these things?"

"Hell if I know!" Was the wizard’s answer.

"Fuck!" Cursed Granite who then turned to Wings. "You know, the word ‘insane’ comes to mind here."

"So does ‘desperate’." Retorted Wings before jumping out from behind the frame, his sword held in a defensive stance.

The Enforcers took aim at the newly presented target. Before the triggers were pulled, Wings immediately darted back to cover. High-caliber slugs again pinged loudly against steel.

"Bushido masters never taught you to dodge and deflect bullets, I take it?" Granite remarked, hoping the dry humor would keep him sane just a little longer.

"Shut up, Granite!" Returned Wings. "A crash course in magic would really help right now, Kirn!"

"Come on!" Granite yelled at the inanimate length of wood in his hands. "Do something!" Not surprisingly, the weapon failed to respond.

The large man stepped out from his cover as Wings had just before and pointed his staff at the Enforcers. The federal agents had ceased firing for a moment. Some took the time to reload while others saw little of a threat from the man holding nothing more than a stick.

"You are ordered to stand down." Called out one of the Enforcers in a firm voice. "Drop your weapons and come out with hands raised."

With those words, the Enforcers resumed their advance on the truck. The civilians had calmed down a bit, seeing that the one-sided gunfight was coming to an end.

"Turn ‘em into frogs!" Granite berated his staff, growing angrier with each passing second. "Change into an M-16! Hell, do anything!!"

The Shadowed One’s thick arms tensed as he gripped the wood. And that’s when he felt it. A tingling sensation that started at his shoulders and intensified as it made its way down to his hands. Suddenly, the staff Granite held came to life. White energy sparked and crackled off the magical wood. With a sizzling crash, a bolt of what looked to be lightning discharged from the end pointed at the Enforcers. The lance of raw power flew straight as an arrow where it collided with a federal agent in the chest. A blackened hole was ripped into the man’s upper torso that just began to smoke as he fell dead to the ground.

Everyone halted just then, stunned at the turn of events. The civilians pressed to the sidewalks let out more shrieks of terror. The Enforcers remained silent as they turned to their fallen peer. Kirn, Sera, and Wings just stared at Granite who was held transfixed at what he had just done. The Enforcers looked back up to the truck and raised their guns.

Granite caught the threat and immediately fell back before gunfire rained again at the truck.

"Please tell me you know how you did that." Wings said across the doorway to Granite.

The larger man took a moment to look at the staff before answering.

"I just focused everything I had on the stick. Then shit just came out of it."

Wings took a cautious peek out to the street. The Enforcers were making use of cover now, hiding behind lampposts and cars as they strafed from position to position.

"Nothing like spur of the moment field testing." Wings commented before pointing his sword with both hands to a pair of Enforcers standing a safe distance from the bystanders. His brow furrowed and fingers clenched. The blade then glowed orange. A ball of flame the size of a basketball took flight from the tip.

The agents saw the attack coming and immediately split up. The fireball splashed against the pavement, leaving a scattered field of flames on the blacktop.

"This can’t be happening." Wings said under his breath.

An arc of magical force then streaked out the door and knocked one fed clear off his feet, announcing that Kirn had managed to lend his own support.

Just when it was looking like the Stone Hawks would be able to hold their own in the firefight, reinforcements began to make their way on the scene in the form of additional federal squads pushing through the surrounding crowd. And the masses had thinned out considerably during the chaos, thus the hindrance to the Enforcers’ approach was minimal.

However, that proved to be the salvation for the men and woman holed-up in the moving van. The engine revved and the vehicle began to pull forward. As they rolled away, Granite cast a glance out to the scene they were leaving behind. He caught full sight of the aftermath of the battle waged in the middle of the street. Civilians hovered over pools of blood and the bodies of loved ones. What caught the young man’s eyes the most though, was the glimpse of an elderly man sprawled out on one sidewalk all by himself. There was no blood visible around the body. Perhaps he had been trampled by the others trying for a desperate escape. Or maybe his aging heart simply gave out in all the excitement. In any case, that image remained etched in his mind more than any of the other horrors incurred that evening.

Granite took his eyes off the killing zone as it fell into the distance and turned to Wings. The other man in black let out a deep breath and bowed his head.

"What the hell did we just bring here?" Granite asked his friend.

"We didn’t bring anything." Wings looked up to Granite. "The Enforcers just opened fire. God, all those people. None of us were looking for that."

"Do you think Marcus…?" Granite just let the question trail off.

"All I know is that he’s got some explaining to do." Said Wings who then made his way around the speaker system to the front.

"Anybody been hit?" Wings questioned as he came to Kirn and Sera.

"We faired a lot better than the Society’s noise boxes here." Sera said while pointing to the countless holes stitched into one speaker. "What about you two?"

"We’ll be just fine as soon as we get some answers."

Wings then banged on the wall between them and Marcus with the pommel of his sword.

"Pull over!" He demanded. "It’s time we had a little talk."

Marcus cocked his head slightly before speaking.

"Wait till we get some miles put between us and the charnel house the Enforcers just made."

"This can’t wait!" Wings argued.

"Maybe it needs to wait." Said Granite from the rear, sliding his staff in the strap across his back. "I mean I don’t know about the rest of you, but I could use some time to get my head together."

"I can’t say what we just been through has left me at ease either." Agreed Kirn.

"Point taken." Wings said.

Marcus brought the truck around another sharp turn. Everyone maintained their balance as a deep thump sounded.

"What was that?" Sera questioned.

"Almost sounded like Marcus ran down some poor schlub crossin’ the street." Stated Granite.

The four took a gander back out the door, hoping they had not left yet another body behind them. All their eyes met with were the common street and what little traffic was still on the road.

"What did we just hit?" Wings called through the slot to the cab.

"What do you mean ‘What did we just hit’?" Marcus responded.

"We just heard a bump back here." Said Wings as he sheathed his sword.

"Well, this whole truck’s been shot to hell, in case you haven’t noticed. I wouldn’t expect it to be running all that smoothly right now. Be grateful the gas tank wasn’t hit."

Granite shrugged his shoulders indifferently when Wings turned back to the others.

"I’m gonna close the door." The large fellow said before making his way back to the hold’s rear. "All this shit is just creepin’ me out."

"So much for the non-violent protest." Sera commented humorlessly.

"Tell me about it." Granite said from the door.

His hand reached up to pull down the door when a large dark shape enveloped his vision. Granite’s enhanced reflexes kicked in immediately. He caught sight of the high caliber sidearm and batted away his assailant’s aim before a shot could go off. But that did not stop Granite and his attacker from falling to the floor of the compartment.

It was an Enforcer who was wielding the weapon. His armor was ragged and his helmet horribly scuffed. He must have managed to the get a hold on the truck’s underside and had been dragged all this way from the rally. The agent could have very well gotten the jump on the entire team had it been Kirn or Sera there to close the door with their mundane reaction times.

"Get him off!" Granite yelled as he wrestled with the Enforcer, desperate to pull the gun away from his enemy’s grip.

Wings and Sera rushed over to help their comrade. The Enforcer saw their approach and unloaded his weapon. Bullets sprayed out, making the two hopped back defensively.

Granite saw Kirn coming, his staff in hand and his lips moving silently to prepare a spell.

"Kirn!" Granite screamed. "Blast this guy!"

"I need a clear shot!" The wizard said, pointing his staff at the rolling pair of bodies.

"What’s happening back there?!" Exclaimed Marcus from the cab.

"Hold on!" Wings hollered to Granite as he leapt on the Enforcer’s back. His claws protruded out as the martial artist dug them into the assailant’s shoulder. Wings pulled their foe off of Granite who was just managing to wrench the sub-machinegun out of the fed’s hand.

"Pull this damn thing over!" Sera ordered Marcus.

The Enforcer continued to struggle. His head shot back, the helmet banging sharply against Wings’ forehead. Wings loosened his grip as he recoiled from the blow. The Enforcer made a grab for his gun. The weapon tumbled clumsily between his hands and Granite’s before it went bouncing out the door and skittering down the street.

Granite came out with an uppercut into the agent’s gut, lifting the man up off his feet. Even though the Enforcer slumped forward, there was no groan or other verbal recognition of pain from him, and his abdomen muscles were tense as steel.

The truck made another turn, upsetting everyone’s balance.

Granite again took the initiative this time. He pushed hard against the Enforcer’s shoulders. The fed flew backwards and slammed into the compartment’s inner wall.

The mysterious attacker was never given the chance to regain his feet, as Kirn had already made use of the clear line of fire he had been so carefully waiting for. The raven atop the sorcerer’s staff lit the cargo area as it projected a stream of cascading power into the Enforcer. A sound like a deflating tire, only twenty times louder, was made by the spell as the attacker began convulsing. One last spasm of nervous energy came from the Enforcer before he fell dead to the floor.

"Thanks, man." Granite said to Kirn.

"Just glad to drop him before any of us really got hurt." Responded Kirn. "Wings, how are you doing?"

"Aspirin would be nice right about now." Said Wings, rubbing his forehead. "That guy sure had some moves."

Inertia shifted as the truck came to a halt and the engine was then shut down. The driver’s door was heard slamming shut followed by the hurried steps of Marcus.

"Fashionably late." Granite commented dryly upon seeing Marcus standing at truck’s rear with gun drawn. "No offense, pal, but we could have used you about half a minute ago."

"Yeah, well, this van’s got a good two hundred bullet holes in it." Returned the merc. "Not what I’d call inconspicuous. Especially considering the APB the Committee now has on it. Besides, looks like you guys have things taken care of here."

"And what about those Enforcers all going postal back there, huh?!" Demanded Granite. "Innocent people were mowed down."

Marcus looked behind him for a moment and shook his head, unable to come up with an immediate answer.

"I swear to all of you, that was not expected. The Enforcers would never open fire with bystanders around. The government doesn’t do that kind of business in plain sight."

"There are always exceptions to the rules." Sera told Marcus in a challenging tone while pulling off her mask.

She, Granite, and Wings made their way from the back compartment. Kirn, on the other hand took a moment to observe his handiwork on the Enforcer, making sure that the surprise assailant was in fact down for good.

Marcus stepped back allowing the three to hop down and get their bearings. The mercenary had sped the moving van to an unpopulated section of the warehouse district. The authorities would eventually come looking there, but for the moment, it gave everyone some time to catch their breaths.

"If Enforcers are supposed to play nice in front of the public, then what was that all about?" Asked Wings firmly. "You and Dallentine both said this was supposed to be a low risk assignment. Instead, it was like we were dropped in the middle of Nam."

"All I can tell is that just having you guys around must have the Committee scared shitless." Answered Marcus "If that is the case, we’re playing a whole new ballgame here. Hell, Dallentine might even be worried to work with you people now."

"So the Society drags us in kicking and screaming one minute then gives us a sound kick out the door." Remarked Granite ruefully.

"Hey, I’m just saying that’s a possibility." Said Marcus defensively. "At this point, there is very little we can be certain of."

"Does that include who is and isn’t already dead?" Broke in Kirn. The mask was off his face now. He stood at the door with his staff in one hand and the dead Enforcer’s helmet in the other.

"What are you talking about?" Asked Wings, taken aback by the odd question.

Kirn cast a look down at Marcus from his elevated perch.

"It would seem that the Society has been keeping us in the dark somewhat." Replied Kirn. "You might want to come check on our new friend in here."

"That guy’s still alive?" Granite said with astonishment.

"Just come look." Insisted Kirn.

Granite, Wings, and Sera reentered the truck. Marcus tailed the others at a distance nonchalantly.

"You’ve gotta be shittin’ me!" Granite burst out.

"Call it morbid curiosity," Kirn said in a controlled tone. "But I wanted to check the face of our daring highwayman. Pulled the helmet off this is who I found."

"Can’t be." Sera trailed off for a moment as realization settled in. "I was the one who…."

The face was easiest for her to recognize. The man had his hair in a tight crewcut, his head looking a little like a fuzzy peach. In the middle of a cold face a sizable, hooked nose and a rigid chin. All he was lacking was a bloody gash in his throat where a dagger had been plunged.

"Tell me we just didn’t see the same guy die twice." Wings said in disbelief.

"Dude, what the hell is this?" Granite shook his head, utterly baffled.

"That’s what we thought the first time we saw this phenomenon." Stated Marcus.

"You knew about this?!" Wings turned to Marcus.

"You can relax." The mercenary said reassuringly. "G.I. Joe there isn’t going to be up and about ever again."

"And when were you planning on sharing this with the rest of us?" Demanded Wings. "Or does the Society share information on a need to know basis?"

"Look, Dallentine just didn’t think it would have been safe to throw too much at you guys at once. Figured you’d find out the facts sooner or later, assuming you didn’t already know."

"Did that include what happened back at the Committee bash we just came from?" Questioned Granite, taking a menacing step towards Marcus.

"There are body-bags being filled tonight because we were there." Wings stated angrily. "Am I still right for thinking that the Society’s willing to sacrifice a few lives for some kind of revolution?"

The mercenary stood his ground in front of the four scowling faces.

"Like I told you before, it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Nobody was supposed to get hurt."

"So then what’s this guy’s story?" Granite pointed down at the body on the compartment floor. "How can someone get a torn larynx one day and be up on his feet the next?"

"Not the same guy." Answered Marcus flatly.

"Excuse me? You sayin’ they’re twins?"

"Do you remember how last century, people were doing things with sheep that didn’t require Velcro gloves?"

"You expect us to believe that Dolly went from the barnyard to the Enforcers?" Wings said skeptically.

"You expect me to believe a dragon is behind Armageddon?" Returned Marcus. "Just consider it. The Enforcers are the world’s largest law enforcement agency, yet nobody can say they known one personally. They follow whatever orders their superiors give them without question or fear. Only thing you need to remember is to keep Joe Schmoe from seeing too many faces and making the connection."

"So who started it?" Asked Wings. "One of the old governments had to have brought human cloning to the table."

"No way." Marcus replied. "The U.S. was watched over by all sorts of oversight committees. Japan was busy pulling its economy back together. China gave up on making people when overpopulation started to catch up with them. Every other country had its own problems that kept such a massive project from coming about. The Enforcers are all from the WMC’s cookbook."

"But how can that be? If the cloning started around the same time as the Committee was formed, then the Enforcers couldn’t be more than a few years old, and this one looks like he’s pushing thirty-five."

"Odds are they’re able to grow the Enforcers to specific levels of maturity. The Society still can’t figure out the exact procedure they use." Marcus said. "Hell, we can’t even find the facilities where it all takes place."

"I think you’re losing us here." Sera said as she pointed to Kirn and herself alternately. "Not to sound like off-world bumpkins or anything."

"We’ll fill you in later." Granite told the two.

"The lecture’s gone past the bell already." Stated Marcus. "I’m thinking now might be a good time to scatter. Driving the truck around is just making us more visible."

"Can’t say the masks are keeping a low profile either." Granite concurred before transforming. Wings soon did likewise.

"But you all proved yourselves out there." Marcus put in. "I’m sure the next assignment Dallentine sets up will be more your cup of tea."

"I’m not so sure if we want a next assignment considering how our last just went." Said Dave.

"Until then, you should all just lie low until you hear from us. We’ll be in touch soon enough."

Marcus then turned away from the four and ran down the street.

"Suppose we should be puttin’ some distance between us and here." Rob declared.

No further cue was given, and all four of them were on the move.

* * *

On a cold, unoccupied street corner, a wandering vagrant milled about with a bottle of whiskey in hand. The wind blew, nearly blowing the battered ball-cap from his head. With uncanny reflexes, he caught onto the hat before it went off in another coming gust.

"Let’s go." A voice from a side street called. "I really could use a drink."

At a hurried walk came three men and a woman. Nothing appeared too out of the ordinary about them. One of the men was wearing unusually colored robes and carrying a long stick with some kind of ornamentation at the end, but that was the only odd feature about them. The group had just turned right now, their backs to the fellow in the shabby coat and rumpled Jets cap.

The bum dug into the pocket of his coat and drew out a hand-held radio. He flipped the knob, and there was a soft pop of static. After a moment, the man spoke into the walkie-talkie with an unnatural monotone.

"Get me in touch with Burkar." He ordered.

"Stand by." A bland female voice said.

Mere seconds had gone by before the constable answered.

"Report." Said Burkar.

"I am approximately half a kilometer from the 236’s homing signal." Replied the clone. "Four people have just passed by coming from the direction of the beacon. One appeared to be carrying an instrument of some type of arcane design. Your orders?"

"Follow the four and report their whereabouts. A team will be assembled to further monitor them. Someone else will arrive at the transmitter’s location."

"Understood." The man acknowledged. He clicked off the radio and immediately followed the group as ordered.

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