Attack on Sherman Square

---

Ebony sky compressed the things below it to silhouettes in Pantheon’s sight. The firmament decor exchanged consistent black for the reds and oranges of explosions, debris found brief illumination in tune with flame. Overhead, thrashing rain settled the steam rising off him; a soothing cool helped him reign his bloodlust. The boy loved rain and any trinket of joy made it easier for him to slip through, to pull against Pantheon’s push.

Eyes closed, he let himself feel the calm. They felt it as one, if only for a brief moment. It was snapped with a beckon. Visage opened to more dancing booms and fire raiding the heavens, a boredom swept and stayed. Love for battle that he had, the collective might of the heroes was greater and more effective even than what he could do on his own. Nothing here was enough of a challenge for him. Focus enclosed around a familiar face and voice, the Alchemyst; she came with another, the witch who--unbeknownst to Pantheon--was the origin of this ethereal storm.

Alchemyst brung him a weapon, a bat forged from her talent. It rolled near his feet and he picked it up to examine it. Spikes were a nice addition though unnecessary for his purposes. As he opened his mouth to greet his nearest acquaintance and introduce himself to her companion, the fume and light of a flare smoked at his feet. Attention drawn toward it and then its general direction, Pantheon turned. An army of Hounds, nothing new; so mundane, in fact, Pantheon initially hadn’t even made a move to confront them. Brazen though he was, the boy wasn’t going to leave Alchemyst nor her friend unguarded, he knew Alchemyst’s powers took time and were of no defense against a hail of bullets.

Lady Hex had mentioned requiring cover; unfortunately, a thick fog would not be enough to deter the marching squadron of terrorists, or so he was inclined to believe. It was not until Pantheon saw the effects of the red smog that he lifted an eyebrow, interest piqued. He would not be getting on her bad side any time soon. She had dismantled many of the Hounds mechanisms including their guns in one fell swoop. It didn’t prevent a few of the silver bullets fired (while the ritual was occuring) to crush against Pantheon’s body and for him to stumble back, woozed by the disrupting enchantments of the projectiles.

By the time he gained his wit, Hex’s ritual had completed and its effects apparent. In those moments following his disorientation, Pantheon took himself and his handy new weapon toward the crowd of Hounds. Spikes dug into flesh and ripped skin from faces; metal banged against bone and one could hear the grinding of snapping ligaments. Loud pops from broken kneecaps and torn ACL’s. He made quick and light work of the platoon of men.

Lying before him were broken, useless, sprawled Hound bodies. A swathe of armored trucks rolled up, replacing the group of Hounds’ depleted numbers fast as he could whittle them down. Pantheon’s eyes dropped to the bat, then raised to the truck. The violence had become comical; he could not help but laugh at the absurdity of his own actions. These were peons. They did not deserve his energy; he was only here because of Charlie and the agreement he had struck with her to begin with. He tossed Charlie’s gift of destruction aside. Standing in front of the group of armored trucks, he sighed and then spoke,

”I let one of you live before because the boy is courteous, ”Pantheon remarked as though the group of Hounds knew who he was referring to, ”but even he grows tired of this. Bore me further and I will assure none of you get a chance to suffer, I will kill you.”

They had forfeited their right to live long ago far as Pantheon was concerned. A dissenting voice cut across his warning from behind, she called herself Blacklight. Pantheon turned to face her, behind him the armored Hound trucks climbed out, weapons pointed. She floated slightly above him, the cold of her wings chilled him briefly before becoming a heat; he admired the strange beauty of the scattered light.

”Blacklight,” he looked her up and down, palleted iris’ chaining finally to her face, ”I am Pantheon.” always respectful of some mortal customs, introduction was merely coded, polite showmanship and the antithesis of humility, as was Pantheon.

”And this is not a courtroom, your charge is foolish. We have done far more here today than is within the right of any of your mortal laws. Do not lecture me, child.”

”Instead, be useful. Let us remove these fools from our presence.”

---

The sweltering heat of the summer sun coupled with miles of open, arid land began to take its toll on Marie. Delicate drops of perspiration pooled on her brow, falling occasionally into her eyes before being swiftly wiped away to alleviate the sting. Wearing black in the desert, it turned out, was a poor decision, but Marie hadn’t planned this flight. Despite her discomfort, she was determined to arrive at her destination at a reasonable hour, giving herself enough time to regroup and make a dent in her next stop.

Holt remained largely silent during their journey, allowing Marie to adjust to her latest impulsivity. He couldn’t possibly understand the depth of her emotions, it wasn’t his way. The anger she felt at herself for dragging Benjamin and his friends into her problems, the fear she held for their lives and wellbeing, the guilt she felt in leaving them behind. All Holt truly knew, what he could feel most palpably, was Marie’s ambition. The spark that once drove Joseph was present in Marie, different to the cunning-flame, but fueled by something equally as primal. Given their bond, Holt couldn’t help but feel energized by this passion. Whether or not he agreed with her methods - though in this case, he was entirely in agreement - the power Marie wielded, granted by her desires, was apparent, and he stood to gain just as much as she.

The peaks of the Franklin Mountains slowly grew as their flight brought them ever closer to their goal. In a low valley, just off the beaten path, there lay a collection of old homes and buildings dotted neatly behind the mountains, the rest of El Paso several miles south. They were more akin to stone huts than full houses, though some bore signs of modern architecture. All were muted tones of brown and beige, a few of the more eclectic looking homes sporting splashes of white and birch wood to keep the interior cool. A general store, aptly named “Franklin General Store,” sat near to the largest home in the collection.

This looks about right, Marie thought, matching the coordinates from the small journal given to her by Genevieve with those on her phone. Holt could easily have helped navigate, but Marie liked the novelty of flying with only a set of numbers.

Do you know anything about the witches of this area?

Genevieve’s notes regarding each of the covens Marie needed to visit contained little to no actual information. All she was given were coordinates and little tidbits of knowledge about people of interest. Marie silently wondered why this regent for the Five Families had ties to these specific covens. There were certainly more in the entire state of Texas than two. Perhaps through familial or initiatory ties?

I know only that witches in this corner of the world take influence from both the Old World and their neighbors to the South. They are quite skilled at transforming themselves into animals, so I hear. Owls, foxes, hares, and horses are their favored forms. Holt’s response was prompt, maybe even a little inquisitive. His knowledge of the craft, though quite deep, was still limited to older traditions, those stemming from Europe and the British Isles.

Genevieve's notes say that the two covens of El Paso are rivals, only about eight to ten strong. Says here that they’re lead by two sisters, Caroline and Josephine Ramirez. Wonder why they split up . . .

I suspect we’ll soon find out. Look there. Holt, in the guise of great raven, pointed with his head at two foxes tumbling and jumping over one another, kicking up loose dirt in the shade of the mountains. As Marie and Holt approached, invisible as they were to the naked eye, the pair of foxes froze, looking up at their descent.

Must be the welcoming committee, Marie thought cautiously as she and Holt touched down, taking a moment to enjoy the shade, even if it only brought a moment’s reprieve from the heat. Meanwhile, the foxes made a strange whining noise before one rushed off and the other stepped forward. It growled at Marie as it drew closer.

Marie took a single step back, setting down her bags and placing a free hand in front of her as a friendly gesture. She couldn’t blame this witch for being suspicious, especially if he or she was locked in a feud with another coven in the same town.

”We’re not here to cause trouble,” Marie spoke calmly and slowly, ”Genevieve Lachance sent us on behalf of your Regent.”

Immediately, the fox stood quietly, its ears perking up attentively. It stood there for several moments before turning its back and walking toward the collection of buildings up ahead, stopping once and turning back, as if bidding them follow.

Holt and Marie knew they were expected, at least, someone bearing protective tokens was expected, so they were far more trusting than they might have been otherwise. They followed the fox to the smallest home in the lineup, a simple wooden house with a brick foundation and light brown roof in desperate need of shingling. The fox pawed at the back door before scurrying off toward the mountains. Moments later, an older woman, somewhere in her mid to late sixties, opened the door. She wore a smudged apron over a simple green blouse, long khakis, and flat house shoes. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, silvery grey with hints of brown here and there. She held a pan in one hand and a ragged washcloth in the other, cleaning in circular motions in between suspicious glances.

“Whatchu need, girl?” the woman’s voice was low and sharp, bearing a distinct Texan twang with hints of something else.

Marie removed the pouch given to her by Genevieve from her smallest bag. She held it up like a badge of office, hoping this woman would understand by the sign stitched into the front.

“Hmph,” the woman grunted, “Lydia’s sending me younguns now?”

Marie couldn’t tell if the old witch was irritated or curious. Her voice was dreadfully inexpressive, as was her face.

”I was sent on Genevieve Lachance’s behalf . . . well, on behalf of your Regent.” Marie maintained a pleasant disposition despite the lack of hospitality and how dreadfully humid it was.

”The witches of Vegas are putting on a ritual tonight. Genevieve asked me to hand these tokens - pieces of the blessed vessel - to the covens here, among others.”

“I see.” the old woman took a step back, opening the door fully. “Well don’t just stand there lookin’ lost, then. Come on in and close the door behind you. Don’t want the cold air gettin’ out.”

Marie nodded, stepping up a cinder block that acted as a makeshift stair up to the door. She left her broom and bags propped next to the door, following the stranger further into her home. For its small size, it was strangely spacious. There seemed only two or three other rooms, one of which Marie assumed was the bathroom. The kitchen, dining room, and living room were all connected, divided only by a change from carpet to tile. The décor was dated but in good shape. It all felt very “lived” in.

“Name’s Caroline Ramirez,” she yelled behind her, fumbling about in her tiny kitchen with a stack of clean pots and pans. There were plants and herbs hanging down from the ceiling on drying racks, some for cooking, others for magic.

”I’m Marie,” she answered, taking a seat in the dining area just next to the window AC unit.

“And your friend there?” Caroline called back, pointing to Holt who stood on the table, still as an ethereal raven.

”Uh . . . Holt, his name is Holt.” Marie was caught off guard, though she should have expected a witch of Caroline’s age and experience would see Holt no matter his corporality.

Caroline snickered as she sat opposite Marie, sliding over a glass of ice water that Marie happily drank almost instantly.

“So you from one of them Vegas lines too?”

Marie shook her head.

”No, not Vegas. I’m from Boston originally, though I don’t come from any specific witching tradition.”

Caroline nodded slowly, looking Marie over once or twice before speaking again.

“First of your line, then? Quite the feat. Helluva lot of responsibility, too. Genny tell you anything about us, then?”

”Not really, no. I know that you and your sister, Josephine, are the head of your respective traditions, but that’s about it.”

Caroline only nodded.

Marie wasn’t sure what she was hoping to accomplish here. In her mind, her only mission was to give the witches their tokens and leave. It was nice to take a moment to relax and she was thankful for Caroline’s hospitality, but was there really time to chat with the Hounds mobilizing, not to mention her own personal quest.

Wait, Marie thought to herself. She couldn’t rush things, especially when she had no idea where Gwyneth’s next item would appear. Perhaps she should be focusing on making the sort of allies she’d gained in Vegas, ones like Genevieve who could provide her with, if nothing else, a place to rest.

”So your sister,” Marie began, taking a quick sip of water between words, ”Why do the two of you work separately? Genevieve’s notes on El Paso say you two are rivals. What happened?”

Caroline turned her head, looking Marie over a few more times.

“What’s it to you? Don’t look like you intend to be here long,” she curtly responded. Marie could see it was a tender subject.

”I hadn’t planned on it, you’re right. But it’s the middle of the day and I don’t have anywhere else to go right now. Unless you want me to leave,” Marie stood up, hoping she could offend Caroline’s sensibilities just enough to get more information.

”If you could just tell me where Josephine is, I’ll give her one of these tokens and be on my w . . .”

“Sit down, girl.” Caroline cut her off. “I might be old but I’m not a fool, and you ought to be careful what you wish for. Josephine ain’t someone you wanna just stumble into.”

Marie did as asked, taking her seat with a subtle grin.

”So the two of you had a falling out, then? A difference of opinion, maybe?”

Caroline sighed, standing up slowly and walking to an antique cabinet that held, among other strange novelties Marie associated with witchcraft, a large saddle. Marie recognized it as a witches saddle, one that, according to legend, witches would mount sleeping persons with, transforming them into horses that would be ridden to the sabbath. She assumed they must exist but had never seen one herself, not even among Puck’s collection of artifacts.

“Me and my girls,” Caroline spoke loudly, perhaps forgetting herself, “we aren’t like Josephine. Not no more at least. I tend to the folks in town when they get desperate. When they need healin’ or the like, a blessin’ or gift for their newborns; things like that. It’s just me and my three daughters. Two of them’s got kids of their own, three more girls in total that we’ve been teachin’ the ways to. Then there’s a girl from in town, a little younger than you I imagine. We give the folks in the city what they want. They know there’s a price, but it ain’t much.”

”All women,” Marie remarked.

“We don’t discriminate or nothin’,” Caroline replied, “just the way it worked out. You want all kinds of diversity, though, you speak to Josephine. She ain’t got no kids of her own. Takes in a bunch of strays though, all wantin’ some kind of power from her. They're all real dramatic compared to us. When folks want a remedy they come to me and my girls. When they want anything else, they head to Josephine’s bunch.”

”But I’m guessing that wasn’t always the case,” Marie noted, pointing at the saddle on display. Hag riding, as it was known, wasn’t a benign affliction. Men and women who’d been ridden by witches were horribly shaken by their experiences, always fatigued and sore beyond comparison, and those were only the physical effects.

“Not like we don’t get up to mischief every now and then,” Caroline seemed to reminisce, taking her seat near Marie. “My girls and I aren’t quite so frivolous as Josephine, but you’re right, it wasn’t always that way. She’s five years my senior, the first of our line, taught by a devil from the desert. She and I got up to all kinds of trouble back when we were kids, but Josephine was always a little more . . . malicious than I was. She didn’t know when to stop. One day she poisoned a watering trough for a rancher not far from our little valley. He hadn’t done nothing to her that I could tell. I got fed up with her causing problems for everyone, so I stood up to her.”

Marie was thoroughly intrigued. She’d heard plenty of horror stories about wars waged between witches over the years. History and legend were littered with examples, and Puck had a few stories from his days in France and Spain, but Marie had never seen the aftermath of such a conflict.

“After that, Josephine challenged me to a test of skill. She said, ‘Caroline, how dare you speak to me that way, your own sister, the one who gave you everything. But I’ll tell you what. If you can raise a bigger storm than me, I’ll step down and do as you ask. If you can’t, then you leave me be’.”

Caroline shook her head, laughing to herself.

“It was foolish of me to think I could beat her, but I had to give it a shot. Naturally, I agreed. So I raised a fine storm, lots of rain and wind, thunder and lightning, dark clouds that would linger for days. But Josephine, she was as smart as she was wicked. She called down from the mountains and the valleys a dust storm to rival any there’s ever been. It blew through El Paso and covered it in sand, ruined people’s gardens and farms, killed livestock, dried up water wells, the works. And she was pleased with herself.

“So I did as I said, I let her be, but I also left her by herself. She and I had done everything together for years, but now she’d be alone while I raised a family in the valley and taught my girls what I wanted them to know. We hadn’t spoken to one another in almost twenty years until Miss Lydia Velis came to town a little while back.”

”Lydia Velis?” Marie questioned, ”You mentioned her name earlier.”

Caroline nodded.

“Mmhmm, she’s that ‘Regent’ you talked about, the one what made my sister and I see how childish we’d been. She invited us to a party in Nevada, her annual Walpurgis Night celebration. Me and Josephine hadn’t ever celebrated it before, but we went up, me with my girls, Josephine with whomever she’d managed to round up that year. After that, we’ve been going every April. I still don’t much care for that twisted bitch, but at least we’re talking again.”

Marie couldn’t help but laugh at that last comment. Caroline had so much character. She was very much a no nonsense type of woman, which Marie could appreciate.

Caroline also laughed, happy to have entertained her guest.

”I still need to find Josephine to give her one of these tokens. Do you know where I can find her? Does she live in the valley or in town?”

“No,” Caroline shook her head, “Josephine’s been up in the mountains for a while now. There’s some old caves out there used by the natives. Josephine witched some workers from the city several years back and had them clear out one of the caves, carve out more rock to make space for her to work. Don’t none of her folks live in the caves, nor does she. They come up from town on occasion when she needs ‘em for somethin’. She’s got a cabin out there that runs on a generator. No real address for me to give.”

A loud bang interrupted them.

“Caroline!” a man’s voice came from beyond her front door, followed by several loud knocks with his clenched fist. “You come out here right now, Caroline, I mean it!”

“What in the hell,” Caroline stood up, walking around the table to peek through the drawn blinds of an adjacent window. Outside was a tall, middle-aged man in tattered overalls, work boots, and a white, flat brimmed cap. He continued to bang on the door until Caroline finally answered.

“What?” Caroline yelled as she swung the door wide open. The man’s face was red, possibly from the sun, but more likely from his angry knocking.

“You wanna tell me why I found my son wandering around in them caves this morning?”

A thin boy with dark hair stood a few paces behind the older man, a blank stare etched on his face.

“I don’t know, Jeff, why don’t you ask him yourself instead of knocking down my door in the middle of the day?” Caroline raised her voice.

Jeff took a step forward, a dirty boot stomping on the living room carpet.

“Don’t play games with me you old witch, I know you’re up to something.”

“Don’t you forget who’s house you walked up to, Jeff Bayley.” Caroline threatened, placing her arm across the doorway to halt him from moving further.

Jeff huffed, taking a step back. He looked over to see Marie just barely visible from outside.

“That one of Josephine’s whores?”

Caroline took a free hand and struck Jeff with an open palm, the sound echoing through the quiet valley.

“You take your sorry ass home, Jeff, you and your boy. You’re lucky a smack in the face is all you get. Go on!”

Jeff stood back, mouth open in shock. From the look of him, Caroline had never been physical before. Maybe the two had a pleasant relationship before today, or at least an amicable one. He took his son’s arm and walked off, turning back once he’d put some distance between them.

“You know them Hounds of Humanity have the right of it! I hope they send you all to hell!”

Caroline slammed the door behind her, mumbling something to herself before sitting back down. Marie wasn’t sure what to think of that little transaction. Something strange had obviously transpired in Caroline’s sleepy little town outside of El Paso. Maybe it was best that she come here first.

”What was all that?”

“Johan…” The voice wavered, a raspy quality to it that was new to the elven regents cadence. “Why?” The Kings hand reached feebly up towards the ceiling, blood soaked his clothes as he slowly got up from his throne. Johans breath came in short gasps, the Gungalans clasped in his hands like a overboard sailor clinging to his lifeline at the side of a ship. His eyes wide, those blues filled with fear and sadness. His king moved like he finally realized what age was, his movements heavy with time and with wear.

“Why” The King fell forward, hand still outstretched as if beeching the gods. Then he crumpled at Johans feet. “You… Were my champion.. I gave you… everything.” His hands clasped at Johans pants as he pulled himself face to face.

“I am sorry” Johan thrust his sword forward, felt the flesh yield as the spear of odin pushed trough the elven regents chest. He felt the man he loved go limp, his arms falling the the sides. Grabbing the golden crown, he stared at it. “The next crown should be of iron” He hear himself saying, but not recognizing his own voice.

---

Johan woke up with scream of rage and terror in equal measure. He shot up from the bed and stumbled over the toilet. Heaving, he knelt before the porcelain seat. He could taste the chipotle as it came back up, his body heaving violently as felt violently ill. The room and everything around him smelled of old booze, a pile of vodka bottles in the corner of the room. He pushed himself back up. The spear lay in a corner opposite to his altar of alcoholism. It seemed to beckon him.

“The King Of Iron shall sit upon the Throne.” The words came from his lips unbidden. He stepped up to the spear picking it up. Rinsing his mouth with what was left in the vodka bottle by his bed, he spat into the sink and lit a cigarette.

“Alright then, then.” Moving over to the door, he stopped suddenly as he felt a prickle in the back of his head. The electric crackle of his wards being upset by uninvited visitors. His hand slid into the coat hanging, not having been worn in quite a while. He hesitated, then slung it on, the runes lightning up inside, all the seals and the protections drawing upon his overflowing arcane energy. One breath to steady himself, one more to feel the spear in his hand extend to its full shape. A third as he listens to footsteps outside his window.

“Humans.” He mutters. “We really are the dumbest race in all of the nine realms” He takes a fourth breath, then his foot kicks just the door and it flares up with wards, before exploding outwards. There is screams of confusion as three hounds are sent toppling out over the railing and falls down onto the yard below.

Stepping out, two more hounds level their guns at him. There is the sharp report of a gun going off, but the small arms bullets stopped mid air.

“Switch to anti-arcane rounds” The human supremacists began to quickly switch magazines only to fire again. This time, the bullets were in cold iron, carved with holy symbols. They smashed past the unseen the barrier with ease but their target has already began to move, Johan going low with surprising nimbleness.

“Vintri” Johan lazily waves his hand towards the shooter that yelled orders and froze him solid where he stood. “Fjäder” Hopping over the railing, he landed easily as the magic made him fall light as a feather. Two more hounds appeared, wielding the same kind of anti-magic weaponry as the others, but as soon as they took the corner they were blasted by a violently powerful wind. Johan simply jogged past them as vines tied them to the ground.

“I’ll let the boys in black suits deal with you crazies, I got a prophecy to avoid.” And with that, he slipped out into the night, leaving yet a hotel and a fake name, behind.

As she reached the streets below, Kayla thought back on the newly-arrived hero’s words. Try not to kill anyone… she thought, grabbing the arrows from the unconscious Hounds and placing them back into her quiver. While she thought back to those words, her sights always strayed to the location where the dead Hound was. She could see the orange-fletched arrow from where she was that remained in their skull. Even through all of the chaos that’s around her, the sight of the dead Hound was the only thing she could focus on. As the last of the arrows in her immediate area, she looked at the corpse one final time. For a while, she debated on going over there and collect the arrow, making sure that none of her arrows were left behind. As she thought that, the pit in her stomach swelled up at the images of the arrow hitting through the helmet came to the front of her mind. Fearing that she’d actually throw up when she got over there, she decided against collecting it. Besides, there’s still danger in the area. With that, she began leaving the area.

As Voyager and the lightning mete began to take on the mechs in the area, Fletch took the opportunity to strike down the Hounds that were in the immediate area of where they were fighting. At least with that, the focus from the ground troops wouldn’t be on the more powerful people that took on the more damaging weapons. Much like before, each arrow was precisely aimed and hit the non-vital areas, giving her enough time to punt them unconscious. As each Hound went down, the arrows shot were collected to be reused on their comrades. When the Hounds in the area were down, leaving just the mechs for Voyager and the meta to deal with, Kayla took the opportunity to move closer to the main bulk of the fight.

As the fight went on in the main square next to the Sherman Center, Kayla watched the aftermath of the mouthy kid finishing the destruction of one of the mechs and the two magic users finishing off their fight with the Hounds. It had just been a coincidence that Terra Firma, one of the metas she had fought with before arrived as well. It was as well as the Hounds started to focus on them and began their advance. The woman in red began casting an amber mist that covered the entire field. While the mist began its work on her bow, the metal components beginning to rust, the mechanism in order for her to draw the bow remained stable, unaffected. The stainless steel and anodized aluminium saw to that as she fired another arrow towards the advancing Hounds.

Despite the advantages the mist was having, it came to nought as a Hound in a similar suit to Iron Knight cast a counter mist to undo everything that was happening to their armour. She could only watch as Iron Knight was thrown down the street by his opponent. Thinking that this might cause an issue, Fletch reached down into her trouser pocket and pulled out two seeds. Quickly adding them to her next arrow, she took aim at the armoured enemy. ”Did S.T.R.I.K.E tell you about this, asshole?” she growled, releasing the arrow shortly before her words. If the arrow hits, much like before, an explosion with the same force as an RPG would have hit them square in the back. If not damaged, the force would have sent them flying to the ground.

Before she could marvel at the attack caused, she was instantly struck down to one knee. White-hot pain seared through her right leg as a Hound caught her by surprise with a bullet through it. Gritting her teeth, she turned to face the approaching group of Hounds. “You should have been paying attention, bitch!” one of them spat, her voice filled with venom. “Now you will suffer the same fate as our comrades in the chopper and the vans!”

Before the Hounds had the chance to fire off bullets at the downed archer, Fletch had the chance to nock another arrow onto her bow and fired at the group’s direction. The arrow missed all of the Hounds, causing them to jeer as they began to raise their rifles. By the time one of them realized that there was a cable in the flight path of the arrow, it was too late. The orange-clad archer lurched forward. The cable was attached to the windup mechanism on her arm. Kayla propped herself a little back as she skidded across the tarmac with her feet. Just before she was upon them, she jumped up. At the same time, she detached the cable from her arm. She arched her way through the air, launching her attack with her feet. The momentum of the kick sent the female Hound flying, unconscious by the force. As she landed on the ground, she began her assault.

Years of training in kickboxing has now become beneficial as she began to dance through the group, kicking and punching them with devastating grace. One by one, they fell with her ferocity. Some even got arrows stabbed into them, Kayla using them as knives in such close-quarters. Adrenaline was the only thing dulling the pain in her leg. It wasn’t long before the last of the group that one had guns pointed at her fell unconscious. Panting hard, the archer began focusing on the Hounds that the kid was fighting. She saw the spiked bat being dropped to the ground. The same woman that told her to try not kill anyone arrived as well. Whereas before had been a good time to scold the kid about actions taken, now wasn’t the best of times. Especially as the Hounds began their march towards the little group. As she hobbled forward towards them, she began her rain of arrows at the approaching Hounds, striking them down with lethal accuracy and non-lethal strikes.

As soon as she reached them, her eyes scowled at the pair of them. ”Whatever you two have to say about morality, save it for after the fight!” she bellowed, a tinge of fury behind them as she bore through the pain in her leg. ”In case you haven’t noticed, they’re still coming! As long as the threat is dealt with and no more civilians are hurt, then do with them as you’d like!” She drew up another arrow and fired at another Hound that was ready to strike at Pantheon. Shifting her weight slightly off her right leg, she drew another arrow and stood there, ready for the next Hound to come their way.

Eris stood by the doorway in a nicely pressed, muave dress with with a little shawl to match Their mother's. They're arms crossed, they impatiently tapped their foot, trying desperately not to lose their temper at the incessant circus that was their parents married life.

"All I'm saying, Richard, is that Mauve is not a red color. The event is strictly for red and black only, and that is not at all the proper color." Their mother said sharply, pointing to Eris by the door. She didn't seem to notice the slight scowl forming on their face. Their father sighed, and did that signature eye roll that he's known to give to only the worst in his life.

"It's just a damn dress. Besides, Eris is perfect the way she is-" he began.

"They." Eris said. Their father groaned louder this time.

"Whatever. They, them, it. You're in a damn dress, what difference does it make?" He exclaimed. He turned to his wife."No one is gonna notice our clothing, you're just paranoid."

Their mother threw her hands up in defeat. "There is no arguing with you over simple things. For once I'd like it if you took me seriously, just once. Is that so hard to ask?" She asked. Their father pushed past her, angrily. "Hey, where do you thank you're going?" She demanded.

"To the limo outside. It's been waiting for hours now because you've been bitching about shades of red." He said. He stormed out past Eris, and onto the front porch, all the way to the gate where the limo was parked and waiting. They had no chauffeur this time, so the Goodoires would have to make do. Eris' mother gave them a disgusted look.

"Lets go, he'll probably be waiting for us if we stay here longer. And next time, just keep quiet about the they/them thing. You know it upsets him when you do that." She said. She grabbed Eris' arm rather roughly, and pulled them out the door. Eris silently cursed her in their head, they could feel a bruise forming where their mother held their arm.
......

The Goodoires arrived at the Newberry, Georgia Social Gala at around 7:00 pm. It was held in a special ballroom, inside the Atlanta Newberry Opera house. It was getting rather dark when they had finished giving out introductions to the other wealthy families of Atlanta. The Newberry Social as they call it, was an event held by only the richest in Georgia. You had to have a special invitation from Aeris Righspool herself, and to get in you needed to pay a 1000 dollar fee, something that would supposedly cover future events thrown by Righspool herself.

Eris had never met Aeris Righspool before, and they would not meet her tonight. Tonight, they would meet their only friend in the world. Charlton Gaslowe was a Butler, but more importantly he was Eris' butler, and also the only person they trusted at all. Charlton stood by the punch and wine bowls, conspicuously put right next to each other, and when he saw Eris he greeted them accordingly.

"Master Goodoire, its good to see you back at the Opera house." He looked around. "How are your parents finding the accommodations tonight?" He asked. Eris shrugged.

"The bitch is drunk off her ass, and the old man keeps trying to grab Emily Gerards tits, so I guess you can say it's going well." They said. "I just wish they wouldn't waste so much time bickering."

Charlton sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Gooddoire. Hopefully they'll learn to better themselves." He said. Eris reached for the punch spoon, but Charlton made a noncommittal grunt. "I wouldn't touch any of the drinks tonight. I saw Henry Abernstein pour something in it a while ago." Eris smirked.

"He did it front of you?" They asked. "Thats ballsy."

"On the contrary, sir." Charlton patted his breast pocket. "I believe his friend Benjamin gave me quite the excuse for such behaviour tonight. I feel I have to take the man out for a drink or two after this event."

Eris laughed. "Well, now Charlton. I didn't take you for a drinker. You always seemed like a soda man to me." They said. "But aside from all that, anyone new here tonight? I'm tired of having to reintroduce myself to the same schmucks every year. And I heard there's a doctor, but there's always a doctor." Charlton nodded his head in the direction of the dance floor where group's of people milled about in a lazy fashion in beautifully tailored attire.

"Over there is Mindy Diasco. She's the doctor you've been hearing about." He said. Eris looked closer at the tight knit group, but they only saw one girl among the three men.

"All I see is a girl and three dudes. You're telling me one of those old guys is named Mindy?" They asked, chuckling. Charlton laughed along with them.

"Yes, Miss Diasco is not what you would expect a doctor to look like. Partly because she's only 16." He said. He smirked at the astounded look on Eris' face.

"Holy shit, its like Dougie Howser, but with a chick." They said. "She's even hot like Neil Patrick Harris was when he was a kid."

"You thought Neil Patrick Harris was hot when he was playing Dougie?" Asked Charlton confused. Eris ignored him.

"Ugh." They groaned. "She's surrounded by dudes. I stand no chance if she's straight."

"You stand no chance at all if you keep gawking at her like that, Miss." Charlton said. "Perhaps I could go up to her, and-" Eris put their hand on the wall, stopping Charlton in his tracks.

"Nope. stay right here. While you're right about the whole gawking at her thing, my chances will absolutely be shot to hell if I send my Grandpa to ask her out." They said. "I'll just go up and do it. Check for The Newlyweds while I'm gone, I don't want them embarrassing me."

Charlton nodded, then hesitated. "By Newlyweds, you mean your parents correct?" He asked. But Eris was already gone, halfway across the room to greet Mindy Diasco.
......

Final notes: when Charlton pats his breast pocket, he is not actually referring to a man named Benjamin, but rather the 100$ bill in America which showcases Benjamin Franklin on the front.

Thailand, Bangkok.

The rain fell heavily onto the roof. Kaya sat quietly at the back of the gathering, her mind clouded with sorrow. The priest spoke about cherishing life, all she could think back to was the people she lost. The people that was no longer cherishing life. She looked out the window, catching a flash of metal and saw two guys shove a smaller person down to the ground. It wasn’t her fight anymore, she didn’t have the fire. She dragged hoodie up over her head and excused herself to the toilet.

There was a the crack of a gun. She kept walking towards the toilet. She just needed to compose herself. A angry voice, small fights smashing at the door in panic. She could hear the murmurs of the congregation, scared and confused. She stopped, taking a deep breath. Stepping up to the door, she opened it quick and all but tossed the young woman inside. Taking a quick look over her shoulder before closing the door. Five thugs, none of them looked affiliated. One of them with a gun, some sort of cheap 9 millimeter.

“Are you hur-” The lady shot towards her as kaya turned to address her, a glint of metal flashed in the dim light of the room. She felt the bite of metal against skin. It had been a faint, the thug should have shot her dead in the street, not let her escape in here. Kaya admonished herself for growing sloppy. Taking a step back, she shook some feeling into her left hand, IT wasn’t a bad cut.

“This is a place of contemplation. I suggest you contemplate how bad your about to get your ass beat lady.” She spoke, not letting the lady get any glimpse of her intentions. A feint to the right with a hook, her opponent went for the exposed left side, only for a kick to land solidly onto her own left. She weezed as her ribs snapped. Kaya moved in on her stunned quarry, a right to the ladies jaw all but spun her around. She could hear that murmur had stopped. She rolled her hips. “Tie her up. I am going out to deal with the rest.” These were hired thugs, a lot of criminal elements moved about here, and she heard this temple was right on some lucrative land.

Kaya didn’t wait for a response, she was out the door. The water splash under her combat boots. One of the thugs, the one with a gun let out a sight. “I guess Layla is inside.” He said “I told her she wasn’t gonna be enough to take out the Halfie T̀āngd̂āw” He raised his gun, only to find himself face to face with Kaya. A white glow around her fist and feet.

“Neither are you.” Her word was a angry bark, then her fist connected to his sternum with such force that his feet left the ground. A second goon came swinging pipe at her hand, rolling underneath it, she swept his leg with a push kick, send him like clumsy missile into another charging goon. Meeting the fourth mid run, she lept placed a knee to his face that rearranged his nose, before landing a roll. But when she got up, a baseball bat smacked straight across her face. She saw stars, blinking the pain away as the fifth goon came in for another swing, angry now, she smashed the baseball bat with a punch, the punched him again, and again, and again. “I told you” Punch. “To leave me.” Punch, his face was more purple than skin tone at this point, one eye swollen shut. She halted her punch in a state of horror. She's lost control. She never lost control. She let the beaten thug go and looked around her, the others had scattered, taken the chance to get away from this mad meta. She bit her lower lip, and turned to walk to her cab. She needed to think. To refocus and find a purpose again.

She was going home to Lost Haven.

The Hounds of Humanity Headquarters, Outside of Lost Haven

From the command center of the Hounds of Humanity’s secret bunker in the outskirts of Lost Haven, Travis Murdock watched as everything that he had built—everything that he had worked for…crumbled. Though he had expected resistance from the heroes, he hadn’t expected them to fight as hard as they had, and he certainly didn’t see the futility of his own force’s attack.

He watched as his forces were routed by the heroes in Sherman Square, and as he did his mind began to drift. He was no longer paying attention to the ongoing battle in the middle of his adopted city. Instead he was again in another place and time altogether. He once again found himself on a street lined with Christmas trees. The bitter cold stung his face as he ran toward the billowing smoke that rose from the area that his wife and daughter had been standing just moments before. It was a memory that had haunted him every moment of every day for over a year.

However, there was something different this time.

It was as if time was frozen. Snowflakes and ash hung in the air frozen in place, as were the people on the street. Civilians and first responders alike stood still like statues, each one a monument to the fear and panic of the moment. Pained expressions and determination remained etched on their faces as they reacted to the explosion before time itself had stopped.

Only Murdock himself seemed capable of movement. Determined, he rushed toward the destruction. He did not know what he hoped to find, as he had replayed this moment in his mind over and over. He knew what would await him: the mangled bodies of his wife and daughter, and a dozen others.

Yet somehow, this was different.

He approached the site of the explosion, and as he did he noticed a burnt child’s shoe laying on the sidewalk. It was pink and white and on the side it was adorned with the image of a cartoon pony, the smiling face smeared with blood. He recognized the shoe, as he had bought that very pair for his daughter just a few weeks before.

“Judith.” He said to himself in a barely audible whisper.

Upon reaching the burnt out building and debris that had been strewn across the sidewalk and into the street from the explosion, his worst nightmare had again been realized. Though he hoped that this time would be different, he found countless bodies, including the mangled remains of Lilly and Judith among the devastation.

“Daddy?” Murdock heard the impossible. He heard the voice that he would have happily given anything to hear once again. He heard the voice of his daughter. Murdock turned toward the sound of the voice, and was overcome with joy when he saw Judith standing before him, just as he had remembered her. Alive and healthy, and unharmed by the explosion.

“Judith?!” He exclaimed, his voice a mixture of that joy he felt at seeing his daughter again, and the grief that came with knowing that this joyous moment could not possibly be real.

“You promised me that you’d make them pay for what they did. You swore that you’d make sure that they never did that to anyone else, ever again.” She told him, her voice was cold and distant.

“I know baby. I know.” Murdock said. “I’ve been working to make that happen.” He told her.

“You’ve failed, Daddy. You weren’t good enough. Your army wasn’t good enough. The freaks are going to win, and you’re going to go to jail, if you’re lucky. You let Mommy down. You let me down.” She scolded him, each word angrier than the next. “We’re very disappointed in you Daddy, we thought you loved us.” As she finished speaking, her fine, porcelain like skin began to crack and blister, revealing a twisted, mangled corpselike wraith.

As she began to disappear before him, as Judith left him, she offered her departing words.
“Avenge us Daddy, kill them all.”

Murdock suddenly snapped out of his daze, and found himself back in the command center surrounded by his people, all of whom were looking at him with concerned expressions, some which appeared to be silently questioning his fitness to lead.

“Sir, is everything alright?” Clancy spoke up.

“Huh?” Murdock asked before pulling himself together. “Yes, everything’s fine.” Murdock said more for his own sake than that of his men.

“How do you want to respond?” Clancy asked as he motioned to the images of the Hounds’ routed forces.

“We’re leaving.” Murdock said simply.

“We’re leaving? The whole base?” Clancy asked.

“No. Just us.” Murdock told him. “Activate the satellite and target Lost Haven. Actually, never mind. I'll do it myself.”

“Travis?” Clancy said, concerned. “What about our men?”

“My men.” Murdock corrected him. “They failed them…they failed us. Let them burn with the freaks. Unless you want to join them, I suggest that you hurry.” Murdock said as he approached the control console for the Finger of God, and activated it and set the targeting system for Lost Haven.

Then a countdown appeared on the screen, indicating exactly how long it would take for the satellite to charge before it can deliver the killing blow to a city that had failed so spectacularly to protect its citizens.

5:00

4:59

4:58

“I suggest we get out of here…now.” Murdock said as he led the way to the underground hangar and the Blackhawk Helicopters that would carry he and the rest of the Hounds of Humanity hierarchy to safety.

The Judicator had hurled Chris across the street. However, the propulsion systems in Chris’ armor instantly activated. Instead of crashing into the pavement, Chris was able to land in a position somewhere between a crouch and a kneel. After Chris had recovered from being tossed by the armored Hound, he heard the Judicator taunt the heroes about the technological advanced that the Hounds had stolen from S.T.R.I.K.E. Then, a second voice spoke in response to the Judicator.

”Did S.T.R.I.K.E tell you about this, asshole?”

An arrow then soared directly at the Judicator. A spectacular display of explosions followed once the arrow seemed to have made impact with the armored villain. This momentary distraction gave Chris an opportunity to get back on his feet and assess the situation.

“How’s the satellite connection coming alone?” Chris radioed Maya through his suit’s communication system.

“I believe I’ve made contact. What do I do next?”

“I can take it from here,” Chris replied. Through a single command imputed by his power-armor, Chris initiated the deactivation code for the satellite’s cloaking technology. Although the satellite would not be visible immediately, it would be soon enough for someone like Icon to go after the Hound’s secret weapon and put it out of commission.

Once Chris had set in motion the second part of the heroes’ plan to take out the satellite, Chris glanced back at the Judicator. After the smoke from Fletch’s explosive arrow had dispersed, Chris found the Judicator still standing there. Right before the arrow had made contact with the villain’s suit, the Judicator had activated his energy shield, protecting the man from the explosion.

“It’ll take more than little explosive toothpicks to take me out,” the Judicator announced.

“Maybe you just need a more worthy challenger.”

“You?” the Judicator scoffed, “I’ve already crushed you under my boot. What makes you think anything would change?”

The Judicator then launched three wrist-mounted missiles at Chris, who in turn activated his energy shield to block the projectiles. The missiles shattered against the energy shield, leaving behind an explosion, a puff of smoke, and the scrap metal of the remains of the missiles.

“Activate code Ariadne,” Chris announced after he deactivated his energy shield. Once he had uttered those words, the Judicator’s armor began to lock-up. “Took me long enough to breach your firewall.”

“What did you do?” the Judicator demanded, although he was no longer in any position to make any threats.

“I’ve seen enough movies to know that this is not the time to ramble about the intricacies of my master plan. Let’s just say you Hounds stole technology from S.T.R.I.K.E. that I developed. What do you think would happen?”

“Finish it, then,” the Judicator harshly barked at Chris. “Show the world that you and your mutated allies are just as much monsters as we are.”

“I’m not letting you off that easy,” Chris said, “You will pay for your crimes according to the laws of the United States.”

"Well, at least we uncovered the dark side of some of you heroes," the Judicator mentioned in defeat. Across Sherman Square were the corpses of many dead Hounds soldiers, murdered by the so-called "heroes."

"I'll deal with that issue later."

Chris then shot a cable meant for heavy loads around the Judicator and took to the sky. The Lost Haven Police Department was only a few blocks away from Sherman Square. It would only take him a few seconds to drop the Judicator off on their front porch. Since Chris had deactivated all of the armor villain’s weapon systems, he figured that the LHPD could handle this bad guy. Chris would rather leave this villain with the police instead of leaving him alone and somehow giving him an opportunity to escape.

Chris took to the skies, dragging the Judicator behind him through the air. Once he had made it to the headquarters of the LHPD, Chris released the cable and allowed the Judicator crash down right in front of the police station. He had startled a few police officers who was rushing out of the station to help hold down the fort until the National Guard could arrive.

“You might want to pry this guy out of that tin can,” Chris suggested to the police officers before turning back and returning to to the battle raging in Sherman Square. During his return flight, his helmet’s display interface alerted Chris that the Archangel armor had breached the satellite’s systems and deactivated the cloaking device. It also alerted him that the satellite was receiving another signal from a remote location. It did not take a genius, like Chris, to figure out what command the Hounds were sending to the satellite. Although Chris was not able to jam that signal so that the satellite would not continue with the Hound’s orders, he was able to initiate some code that would allow him to track the location of the signal’s origin, probably the Hound’s main base.

“Whoever of us can reach and survive in space better get up there and take out that satellite,” Chris announced to his allies. “The Hounds are communicating with the satellite and I doubt they’re going to be sending us kisses and hugs.”

---

”And this is not a courtroom, your charge is foolish. We have done far more here today than is within the right of any of your mortal laws. Do not lecture me, child.”

”Instead, be useful. Let us remove these fools from our presence.”
The words the man had used had an odd sound quality through the howling storm. She could almost hear two voices, but there was clearly only the man in front of her. The meaning behind them, of course, was clear.

”While I can't charge you with any thing now,” she said with a scowl, ”Know that I will be keeping an eye on you, Pantheon. You will be held accountable for any actions beyond the defense of this city and the people in it.” He eyes shifted from him to the scene behind him, and behind her domino mask they narrowed.

As the enemy drew beads on them both, her hands swept out, palms forward, and she fired beams on either side of his head, just past his ears, not close enough to do any damage. They were, however, full powered. Both hit armoured trucks, and the armour proved insufficient to stop her attack. The vehicles exploded into shrapnelling debris, blasting back down the street a block and a half before disintegrating. The direction of the hits meant even men standing directly to either side of the vehicles were spared everything but scratches as they dived for cover. Having divided them into three groups, she quickly generated four walls, en feet high, then brought them together until the enemy combatants had been forced into a single group. She bent all four walls in to form another dome, then glared at the man in front of her.

”So, if you have the wherewithal to actually control yourself instead of acting like a spoiled child, you might try non-lethal methods and containment, instead of wanton murder sprees.”

”Whatever you two have to say about morality, save it for after the fight!” Leanna turned her head to look at the archer from earlier. ”In case you haven’t noticed, they’re still coming! As long as the threat is dealt with and no more civilians are hurt, then do with them as you’d like!”

Glancing up the two streets she had a view of, she saw the woman was correct. Somehow they were facing what seemed to be an army she had known villain groups with far fewer number than were currently being thrown at them, and had been used far more effectively, to boot. She roared out as loud as she could, "Does anyone know where these idiots are coming from? This needs to end ASAP!”

One wall of energy to block up each road, and each pushed forward until it met the nose of vehicles, where it curled up and over them, sealing them against the outer walls of the buildings. They might get out that way, but with the size of the constructs she was making, she was beginning to feel some strain. She hadn't done this much work in years, and could feel sweat beginning to bead on her forehead. Much more and she'd have to start combining them somehow, or risk them falling apart. To save some energy, she landed, seemingly ignoring Pantheon for now, other than to acknowledge him as an ally by putting her back to him in the middle of a fight. The wings disappeared, and she fired another beam at low power, knocking one man further out of the square into his comrades and bowling the lot of them over.

She smiled, despite the stress of the situation. A big battle, with two companions- or at least as close as can be found right now, she thought sarcastically -at her back, she was beginning to feel a sense of prupose she hadn't felt in a while. Perhaps retirement wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Of course, her shoulders were already aching, her hip was complaining about her landing slightly too hard, and her breath felt a little short, but it also felt good to be back in action.

She hazarded a glance back, and saw the archer was hurt, a shot to the leg. ”We're not in any danger here, miss. I suggest you try finding some cover, or perhaps head for the Center itself. There might be good vantage points, and standing next to us might be worse than by yourself.”

Location: Around Peachtree st.Atlanta, GA.

Time of day: During the day.

Scene: Car chase, crime scene unfolding.

The now around 15ft slightly giant-size blond haired lady moved out of the alleyway and scurried towards the end of the intersection. Now panic had broken out as people were moving out of her way as she stampeded like an elephant towards the traffic intersection. No longer was her leg span able to keep her just on the sidewalk as well. Now she was moving through traffic and literally jumping over and even slightly crushing cars that got in her way as pedestrians tried to swerve to avoid her and the stationary cars she would jump over like a game of leap frog or would be crushed under her now bigger sandle's landings.

Eventually however, Lulissa got to the intersection and moved in between the street lights as not to hit her head, when she got in the middle she turned and got a clear vantage point of the crime scene that was already unfolding. The car trying to evade the pursuit of the officers had spun out of control and hit a fire hydrant ruining one of the tires. However, the criminals had vacated the car and took hostages as they point their weapons at the police who made a barricade around them. The situation was frantic, but as Lulissa saw this she realized if she didn't do anything, those hostages could easily be shot.

"Oh crap, I got ta do something!" She said in her now unsuppressed Dixie accent as the now giantess sized lady charged over towards the standoff in progress.

The cops had their guns pointed at the criminals as the criminals had pistols pointed to the heads of several hostages they had captivated just as they got out of their vehicle. The criminals were using whoever they could find as body shields so that they could move inside the nearby office building to set up a holdout from the police. However everyone around them soon heard the loud flopping of Lulissa's giant sandals as the criminals looked up to see what they couldn't believe, a 15ft tall and just as proportionately wider and larger woman stomp right up behind the police.

"Alright, now all ya'll cool it and don't do anything stupid!" The giant lady said out as she stepped right up behind the police and looked down while placing her hands on her hips.

Unfortunately for her, the situation went from bad to worse. Now the criminals began to point their weapons at her and some officers aimed up their pistols at her as well. She had hoped to get to the bottom of the issue and to get everyone to calm down, and quite possibly apologize for trying to run her over. Sadly however, everyone around her came into a panic. Civilian, policeman, and criminal all alike.

"Freeze! Um...miss?" One of the officers, a Caucasian man with ginger red hair said as he pointed a gun right at her chest.

"D-don't move you oversized bimbo! I'll put this faggot into the grave if you do!" One of the criminals said as he motioned his pistol to try warn to her that if she moved closer the hostage would be shot.

Lullisa's mind was filled with anxiety and confusion. On one hand she didn't want anyone to be shot today, on the otherhand now both the police and the criminals saw her as a greater threat. If she shrunk down she would perhaps be shot by the criminals or they would potentially see this as a movement and shoot the hostages regardless. Yet if she moved or became bigger she would have the same results more likely. This also wasn't her field of expertise, she was a former cheerleader for crying out loud, not a hostage negotiator!

" Everyone stop! Let's just all calm down and-"

Suddenly she would be met with gunfire from a more trigger happy criminal among the three who had taken hostages. The sound of the gunshot entered her ears and almost immediately she began to enlarge as she herself grew tense and angered. She couldn't help it, once her natural adrenaline kicked in her powers happened and she grew slowly. This caused others to panic and the police began to fire upon her while the two other criminals took the time to drag their hostages inside while firing pot-shots at her. Fortunately for her however, as she grew the bullets would bounce off her giant and enlarging body until she was around 30ft and now just as bigger and wider. However, this meant the situation had gone from bad to worse as now to everyone around her she was the threat and not the criminals.

"Just my luck...." She now let out in a louder and almost booming voice as she soon deduced that the situation had escalated and now everyone was seeing her as part of this whole fiasco.

Stray bullets began to bounce off her massive body, shell after shell being fired from the former lawmen she was actually trying to help out. While most of them hit only to sting and not cause any real damage, they still were quite a nuisance and soon the officers would be trying to aim for her head. All she could really do is move her now larger arm to shield her eyes as the bullets would impact her arm instead.

"Hey now, can't we just talk about this?!?" She said as she began to get more and more agitated with each passing second, sadly however the gunfire would block out her call for rationality to the officers who kept on firing.

"I guess not, huh." She muttered to herself as now the 30ft giantess had decided to take matters into her own hands.

Lulissa had finally had it. Her nerves could only take so much before she became pissed and the monster that was dormant within her would finally be unleashed. While under fire she leaned down and reached down for an officer. He was in the middle of reloading his gun while suddenly her massive hand reached down and grabbed him around his waist before he could flee. He let out a frightened yelp as he suddenly was lifted up from the ground by her massive and yet soft hand. As he struggled and panic she would position herself back up and bring him up to her face until he was face to gigantic face with her.

"I tried to help you out and ya'll just had to go and shoot at me!" She exclaimed to the man in her hand.

The tiny crowd surrounding Mindy Diasco was full of doctors and professionals, something that deeply intimidated Eris. Mindy wore a nice, cream dress with a floral skirt, and a tiny lotus pendant around her neck. She dressed very simple and professional, while Eris contemplated how gaudy they must look in comparison. When Eris joined them, they were talking about technical doctor things that they didn't really understand.

For a while, they just stood their a little ways behind the crowd listening in. They looked back to where Charlton was standing, and the butler gave them an encouraging thumbs up, plus an O.K sign.

Eris sighed, just get on with it you spineless coward. "So, how are you all liking the Social?" They asked. One of the men, a Dr.Berry Dougherty, turned to greet them.

"Oh, Miss Goodoire, its good to see you tonight. How are the folks at home?" He asked. Eris smiled, and lied..

"They're doing fine, Mr. Dougherty. Who's this new comer?" Eris stuck their hand out to greet Mindy. Mindy took their hand and shook it.

"I'm Mindy Diasco, Mr. Dougherty here convinced the Lady Upstairs to let me come tonight." She said, a tiny bit nervous. "It's a very nice turnout, tonight. So many brilliant doctors." She said. Another man spoke up, this one being Ron Hughes, a licensed chiropractor.

"We were just discussing doctoral colleges, weren't we Miss Diasco?" He asked. Mindy looked caught off guard, she seemed to have been more preoccupied with speaking to Eris than carrying on the previous conversation.

"Yes!" She said, rather enthusiastically. "There are a lot of good schools this season. You're Eris Goodoire, right? I'd heard you wanted to become a doctor someday." Eris shook their head.

"Well, I guess, but I'm not entirely sure if I'll be any good at it." Eris laughed. "I don't think I could get as good as you are." Mindy smiled, and waved her arm dismissively.

"Oh stop it. Everyone's been lauding me as some kind of a Goddess in the doctor world lately. I'm not all that amazing at my job, now." She said.

"Don't sell yourself short, Miss Diasco." Eris said. "I'm sure you're as amazing as everyone's been saying."

Dr.Dougherty looked down at his watch, and gasped.

"Oh no, Miss Diasco I'm afraid I and the rest of my colleagues have got to be going." He said. "Its almost time for the special Centennial Presentation at Yale. I can't be in two places at once, it seems."

"Oh, it's fine. Please, enjoy yourself. And thanks for the invite." She said. Dr.Dougherty shook her hand one last time, and he and his friends left the Social. Eris gulped, now suddenly aware of how awkward standing there must seem.

"Uh...hey!" Eris blurted. "Have you been outside yet?" They pointed to the balcony upstairs. The moon was fully out now. "It's a great view." They promised.

Mindy shook her head. "No, I haven't been outside yet. Heck, I've never even been to Georgia before today!" She said. Eris laughed.

"Today must've been quite the adventure for you, huh?" They asked, amused. "You can tell me all about it on the balcony."
........

The Opera house the Social was being held in was over 100 years old. Eris knew this because their mother wouldn't shut up about the history behind the ancient building for months before they got their first invitation from Righspool. Mindy Diasco had never been to this Opera house before, and Eris didn't think telling her lame history facts about it would be cool. Just ask her about her time here. Mindy leaned on the old, rusted railing and looked down at the rolling hills, and the sprawling forest below.

"So, do you like Georgia?" Eris asked. "I heard we're the friendliest state out of all fifty." Mindy laughed.

"Well the people here are very nice. Dr.Dougherty, Miss Righspool, you." She cupped her hands around her mouth. "I feel right at home!" She yelled. Her voice echoed throughout the forest.

Eris smiled. "Well, I'm glad you're liking it here. And you're not too bad, either. Way better than the other stuffy, rich kids who attend every year." They laughed. "At least you didn't show up with a golden poodle."

"I saw that statue! It belongs to Cassidy Righberry, right?" Mindy tried to hide her grin behind her hand. "When I first walked in, she talked to me for hours about it." Mindy puffed up her chest, and petted the air as if holding a cat. "'You can look, but don't touch my precious Snuffles.'" She said in a fake, snooty southern accent. "'Isnt he gorgeous Miss Disco?'"

Eris laughed loudly. "She calls you 'Miss Disco'?" They asked. "For me it's always 'How are you Madame Good Wire?' I've known her for five years, and at this point I'm too afraid to correct her." Mindy shook her head, giggling.

"Five years, huh? You'd think someone in this big fancy Opera house would've told her by now." She wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.
They talked for a good long while about school, and their studies, but one thing Mindy seemed to be very passionate about was her newest invention.

"I've been working on a new drug called Soundria. It's supposed to be a therapy drug, but the kicker is this:" she paused dramatically. "You use sound to activate it. Once it kicks in, you'll be calm and relaxed like never before." She said. Eris nodded dreamily.

"Sounds like the future to me." They said. "But who's gonna take this new drug, Dr.Diasco?" They smirked at her.

"People with broken hearts, and depression. Maybe even schizophrenics! It's still in the works though, and..." she trailed off. "I'm technically not supposed to be working on it." Eris perked up. "I've signed a contract with my school, and they told me no outside experiments without their advisory." She said.

"Oh. But the drug doesn't sound that dangerous, I mean the worst it could do is give someone a headache." They chuckled. "Right?"

Mindy shook her head. "If it gets in the wrong hands before I can test it, it may lead to some very dire side effects. Messing with drugs in early development is never a good thing." She said. "And because I'm not supposed to be working on it, I could get kicked out of school." She held up her pinky. "Lets keep this between you and me. Okay?" She looked at Eris with pleading eyes.

Eris hesitated for a moment, too busy staring at Mindy's serious expression to actually do the pinky swear. Oh my god, she's so pretty. "Eris?" Mindy asked, which shook them from their daze.

"Uh, right. It's a secret." They said, before quickly locking their finger around Mindy's.

Eris never told anyone about Mindy's pills.
........
Final notes: When Mindy says the "Lady Upstairs" she is referring to Aeris Righspool.

---

“Damn crazy locals,” Caroline cursed as she struggled to get comfortable again, fanning herself with her apron after momentary exposure to the heat.

“They like to throw their weight around once in awhile, but they’re mostly harmless.”

”He knew what you were?” Marie asked with no shortage of concern.

Caroline nodded.

“Most of the older folks around here do. Everyone up here in the valley knows, so does anyone in El Paso that’s lived here more than twenty years. They been dealing with me and my sister for a while. Especially hard to escape their notice with Josephine being the way she is.”

A common sight for witches of a certain age, especially in Europe where the cunning folk were more common. Whenever a community grows around a legend or something mysterious, it becomes so ingrained in their culture that, even if they know they shouldn’t stare at or touch it, they can’t help but keep it alive. Such was the way with Caroline and her sister, Marie assumed. After so many years of living and working with the residents of El Paso, they had become a staple of the city, whether anyone else knew it or not.

”What about the Hounds? Are you not worried they might turn up? I haven’t seen or heard much about Hound attacks in Texas.”

“There have been a few, to be sure. Ain’t much though, a couple of dead civilians here and there, a few dead witches in Austin last week but nothing that’ll make the news. Plus, with that token you’ve got there, shouldn’t be a problem for much longer.”

Marie nodded, moving the pouch from her lap to the table. She pulled the drawstring the reveal a plethora of small, metal disks engraved with the same symbol she’d seen before. On the other side was another symbol, rather a string of them, woven together to form something slightly geometric and entirely incomprehensible.

Voces Magicae, Holt thought to Marie, catching a glimpse of the tokens from his side of the table. Names of daemons, spirits, the mighty dead, and other words thought to invoke great power. I can make out only two names in the formula: Herodias and Soteria.

Marie took one out and examined it closer, unable to translate the inscriptions on the back. Caroline looked up, obviously taken with the talisman’s craftsmanship. She reached over the table with an open palm, bidding Marie release the token now rather than later. Marie did just that, placing it gently in Caroline’s shriveled hand, minding the potentially sharp edges.

”Genevieve didn’t provide any instructions for it. She only said it was part of the vessel she and the other Families were blessing sometime this evening. I assumed it would just siphon power from their ritual.”

“You drive a nail through it.” Caroline responded confidently, turning the disk over in her hands a few times before pocketing it in her apron. “Not the first time I’ve worked magic with Lydia, she likes the charms from the old world, ancient stuff and the like. You drive a nail through it to bind the magic. I’ll call the girls together at midnight. You ought to get one of them to Josephine soon.”

”Speaking of,” Marie repositioned herself, shifting the conversation back onto Josephine and hoping that this time she wouldn’t be met with resistance. ”Why did that man think I worked with Josephine?”

Caroline chuckled.

“No offense, girlie, but you look her type. She’s more, uh . . . I guess what you’d call ‘eclectic’. She and hers run around dressed like that all the time, draped in black and gold and silver, more skin than cloth. Not what you might expect from a seventy-two year old witch, but she don’t exactly look it.”

Marie raised an eyebrow.

”How do you mean?” she leaned closer as she asked.

“Well, whereas I take money and the odd favor from folks that come to see me, Josephine takes years, especially from the younger ones. A trick she picked up from a conjure man years ago. Anyone that comes into her caves and asks for her help has to give up years for it. They get older, she gets younger. She’s probably collected enough years to live for another hundred years or so, if not more. Probably why that boy looked so lost. He went pokin’ his nose where it didn’t belong and lost a few years for it. Told you she was wicked.”

”Powerful magic, that.” Holt said aloud. ”We will have to proceed with caution to avoid a similar fate. Such magic usually requires a contract of sorts, but I doubt a witch of Josephine’s caliber will be forthcoming.”

“He’s a smart one,” Caroline nodded, agreeing with Holt’s sentiment. “Although, girl like you, she might let you in, especially since you have something she needs. Hell, might even get a favor out of her for it. Speakin’ of . . .”

Caroline stood up, walking over to the same cabinet as before. She pulled down the witches saddle with more ease than Marie thought her capable. It was deceptively light. Walking around the table, she presented Marie with the saddle, a finely crafted tool made of black leather, or what Marie assumed was leather, with faint inscriptions along the bottom.

“There’s somethin’ about you, Marie. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I sense a fire in there, something old. I can tell that you’ve got ambition. My girls and I have no more need of this, but you might. It’ll change a familiar just as it can change a man, but I’m guessing a spirit can handle the transformation much better.”

Marie’s eyes lit up. Holt’s many forms were gifts from the witches he’d served over the years. A cat, a dog, a goat, a hare, a raven, and now a horse. Not only would she be supplying Holt with another form, but she would be in position of a piece of magical history, a relic very few witches, or any magicians for that matter, could lay claim to. Marie graciously accepted the gift, lifting it above her head and marveling at how little it weighed.

”I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Caroline.”

“Bah,” Caroline replied, waving a hand. “I don’t give it to you just out of the kindness of my heart. I got ulterior motives like any other self respecting witch. When you head up to Josephine’s, and you will be using this saddle to get there, I want you to tell her about Jeff Bayley and his boy. She can handle herself, but if he does intend to round some folks up and head out there, I want her to be prepared. Me and my girls will lay low until tonight. You do all that, you’ll leave here with my blessing.”

”It would be my pleasure.” Marie smiled, holding the saddle at her side and reaching out to shake Caroline’s hand. To Marie’s surprise, Caroline pulled her in for a hug instead. She hadn’t thought of her as an affectionate woman, but the gesture was well received.

“Head up to the cave systems and wander around a bit, should be able to find them on just about any map. When you start hearing rattlesnakes, you’ll know Josephine’s place is close.”

Marie nodded, following Caroline out the back door. The sun had shifted quite a bit during their visit, a light breeze kicking up dust over the valley. Holt reverted to his true form, the strange spectral sight it was. He took the saddle from Marie’s hands, his dark claws fusing with the leather, as if possessing it. Shadows pooled out from beneath the saddle, melding and spinning to form the vague outline of a four-legged creature. Holt’s features shifted slowly until finally, he stood as a proud and noble beast, a great black horse with dark eyes, mane and tail like midnight tendrils, hints of his ethereal nature swirling around him now and again.

”A fine form,” Holt commented, rearing up on his back legs and letting out a guttural whinny that left Marie in both awe and terror. She fastened her bags to the sides of the saddle and managed to strap her broom horizontally across the back before hopping on. Her experience with horses was limited, but Marie imagined that riding a spiritual familiar in the form of a horse was a much different experience to the real thing.

Holt inched forward, starting at a slow trot before galloping away from the small town at full speed with Marie sitting comfortably on his back. She turned to wave at Caroline as the two raced off into the mountains with supernatural speed and efficiency.

---

---

Josephine’s cabin in the desert was proving more difficult to locate than Marie had originally believed. Caroline’s instructions were vague, but by this point, Marie and Holt had passed the caves three different times and had still not seen nor heard sign of Josephine’s house, nor had they seen any witches in animal guise as before. It was a wonder that the locals found their way out here. Then again, this was probably by design.

Fortunately, the sun, though not fully set, had lowered enough for the mountains to become much cooler than upon Marie’s first arrival. Now, cool winds blew through winding slopes and whispering caves, making the whole experience far more scenic and relaxing. Even though she was technically on a mission, well, three different missions, Marie felt that this was one of the few times she’d actually been able to enjoy herself in the past month. Riding with the witch saddle was like nothing Marie had ever experienced. Flight was of course a novelty that she would never fully give up, but the speed at which she and Holt could move was astonishing.

It was then Marie hatched an idea. Hag riding wasn’t restricted to travel by land. Stories of the witches saddle told of its ability to not only transform unfortunate victims into horses, but to give them supernatural flight as well as speed. She had been so caught up in the joy of riding in the mountains that Marie hadn’t considered the possibility of flight.

Holt . . . Marie hatched the thought, but just as she did, the pair were lifted off the ground, ascending to a distance high enough to see over the smaller hills.

I was beginning to wonder when you would figure it out. Holt replied with as much sass as his voice was capable, moving onward toward a light in the distance that had been obscured by the mountains. Sure enough, a tall, electrical light stood near a modest cottage among the hills, positioned in perhaps the only level patch of land for miles.

    As they drew nearer, moving closer to the ground but never fully touching down, Marie could hear the subtle song of rattlesnakes, surrounding her on all sides. When she looked down, however, she saw no sign of the scaly fiends. Instead, she noticed small stalks or posts of wood fitted with a snake’s rattle at the top, several rattles in fact. They shook violently as she and Holt moved close, either warning the trespassers to turn back, or alerting someone of their presence.

    Holt landed on a stray patch of greenery just outside the lonely house, whose windows were fully illuminated but blinds drawn, except for the occasional slit or opening that spoke to their age and level of use. The hum of a large generator behind the house, as well as a standing AC unit, drowned out the fading rattle of Josephine’s wards.

Before Marie had a chance to dismount, the door opened. Out stepped a slender woman dressed similarly to Marie, in a flowy, low cut, black dress, with silver trinkets hanging from neck and wrist and long, crimson curls tied neatly atop her head. Her skin was beyond perfect, from what Marie could tell, and her eyes were striking, even at a distance, like yellowish amber beacons. She sauntered over, waving enthusiastically.

“Well now,” she spoke in a similar accent to Caroline, though her voice was much lighter, almost sing-songy or whimsical. “What have we got here? Who is this beauty you’ve ridden up to my humble abode, certainly not one of the townsfolk?”

”Josephine?” Marie questioned as she stepped down, almost tripping due to the height of Holt’s back.

“The very same,” she replied, taking Marie into an awkward, domineering hug and kissing the air on either side of her cheeks. “But I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a disadvantage darlin’, I haven’t the slightest idea who you are.”

”Marie,” she answered while removing herself from Josephine’s embrace, awkwardly stumbling backward and bumping into one of her bags. ”I came on Lydia Velis’s behalf, and on your sister’s.”

“Well I can see that you’ve met Caroline,” Josephine said as she walked around Holt, motioning to the saddle on his back. “Never thought she’d part with it, must’ve seen something special about you. But comin’ here for Lydia, I guess that qualifies. Go on then, what’s the news?”

Josephine was interesting to say the least. As Caroline had said, she looked just as young as Marie despite being over seventy. Her mannerisms were what Marie might have expected of a witch taken with grandeur and mischief, she was much like Puck in how she presented herself and how she spoke. And just like Puck, there was something sinister about her, even if it wasn’t immediately apparent.

”The witches of Nevada are putting on a ritual after the recent tragedy there; one of the Families was destroyed by the Hounds. I was asked to give out these tokens,” Marie turned and removed the pouch from one of her bags, taking out one of the tokens and presenting it to Josephine, ”to each of the covens recognized by your regent. Caroline also wanted me to warn you about someone named Jeff Bayley. Apparently his son was in the caves near here earlier today. Jeff thinks you and your sister are planning something.”

“Well you’re thorough, aren’t you?” Josephine took the token and turned it over in her hand a few times before turning back to Marie. “Yes, Jeff’s youngest, Adam, came wandering through the hills about 5 a.m. lookin’ for me. Sweet boy, definitely doesn’t take after his daddy. Wanted somethin’ to get the attention of a certain someone he’s sweet on, a boy in his school. Didn’t want Jeff finding out about it, he’s one of them real ‘traditional’ types, you know the ones I mean.”

Marie was familiar with the average American conservative. Fortunately, she grew up in New England with fairly modern parents who taught her to be open to others, but she’d heard plenty of horror stories about kids, even adults, from the south who hadn’t been so lucky. When you live in a small town outside a major city in a red state, of course you’re more likely to go to a witch for help than look at home.

”But if he wanted a love spell, why did he look so lost? It’s like he didn’t know where or who he was.”

“That’s because I took his memory of it ever happening. Better for his daddy to think I witched him than to find out the truth. Though I’m guessing Jeff threw a fit in town?”

Marie nodded.

    ”He barged in while your sister and I were talking threatening her with the Hounds. She didn’t seem worried, but she wanted me to warn you regardless.”

    Josephine smiled, taking Marie’s hands in hers.

    “Well then, you’ve done us all a service. Jeff likes to blow steam, but he isn’t man enough to act on anything. Hell, even if he does round up the cavalry, I can hide this place from anyone I don’t want findin’ it.”

    ”Glad I could help,” Marie turned as if to leave, readying to mount Holt’s saddle when, as if on cue.

    “Wait,” Josephine placed a hand gently on Marie’s shouldering, turning her around, much to Marie’s amusement. “Y’know, maybe I ought to incentivize the Bayley’s to keep their distance. If you’d be so kind as to stay a little while longer, I’m sure I could make it worth your time.”

    Marie smiled, following Josephine to the porch of her house, which held a small, standing swing and a couple wooden chairs. The two sat beside one another on the swing while Holt trotted over, maintaining his form as a horse if only for the novelty of it.

    ”What did you have in mind?”

    “Jeff Bayley’s one of them oil field workers, well, he’s in the oil field cuz they put a drill on his land. He hasn’t done a day of work in his life. Inherited money from his granddad when he was little, bought the general store up in the valley a few years ago, and struck oil close to the caves in the mountains. More money than God and just as obnoxious. Where they put up the rig is where me and mine used to dance on the full moons, our stomping ground. Used to be a spring out there that they filled in to make room for the well.”

    As they spoke, three cars pulled up to the house along a dirt road Marie had either missed upon arrival, or was simply unable to perceive. Men and women began pouring from the vehicles, nine in total, scantily clad in dark colors. They all looked around the same age, perhaps because of Josephine’s magic?

    “Ah, here comes my cavalry.”

    Josephine stood up to greet them, going around one by one and kissing them on the cheek.

    “My loves,” she spoke up, standing on the steps of her porch like it were a stage, “this here is Marie. She comes bearing gifts. Marie has also agreed to join us tonight in our dance!”

    The witches cheered, walking up to Marie and hugging her, kissing her, welcoming her in their night of revelry. It was a strange sensation, one Marie hadn’t felt in over a year. Her last Sabbath flight was with Joseph. Since then, she’d either been consumed by work for Puck, or consumed by her own ambitions. This was a welcome change, but she still didn’t know the part she was to play.

    ”What exactly were you planning?” Marie tried to maintain an air of caution per Holt’s instruction.

    “My dear,” Josephine responded, taking Marie’s hands in hers, “we’re gonna bring my spring back. All that oil they’ve dug up, all the land they’ve taken from me, we’re takin’ it back. If Jeff thinks he can threaten me and my sister, he needs to realize that I’m prepared to take everything of his, startin’ with the pretty chunk of change he’s drawing from MY land. The best way to get to a man like him is through his pockets. We’re gonna make him beg for a deal. What do you say?”

---

---

    Up, up, the black steed climbed, atop his back a creature fierce. High above the mountains she wielded the flame, a beacon of hope for Night to follow, a disparaging sight to those in her wake. Shrouded in shadow, veiled and unseen, a midnight power summoned its minions. Beasts liken to men in size and splendor, but altogether more fearsome, rode upon a cursed wind. ‘Twas their time and hour, so spoke the Moon as she waned, to banish their enemies, crushed beneath hoof, and claw, and wing, and flame.

    Witch! cried the maggots that crawled below, writhing in filth, death, and woe. What a mess they made of the Earth’s rich skin, clawing at a carcass, rotting her from the inside out. What wonders, they thought, might we construct to bleed her dry and fill our bellies with gold.

Atop their tower, that loathsome spire, vile in its intent and misguided in its aim, a fire burned as if enraged, a smoldering, whirling blaze of hot ash. This was the sign, the herald that foretold a wicked fate. A cursed man could see from afar what his hubris had wrought, woken in the night by cries of pain, a dream, a gift, a vision. Another near smiled ear to ear, the wild fox and her daughters who danced with delight.

The herald loomed ever closer, her fiery cloak cascading sparks onto the insect’s machinations. With torch in hand, she smote the fetid contraption, bending its beams until it leaked black bile. A serpent rose from beneath the sand, hissing as the acrid stench touched her tongue, and the first drop of crude retribution stained her land. Blood from the land, which sustains mortal whelps, turned to the blood of life, which sustains all; water.

With her venom, the strength of her malice, power and wealth were undone. The metal man fell, releasing not blood, but water and steam, sinking into ground, rotting to rust, turning to dust. A spring grew in its place, with crystalline mirror into the starry sky. Around it they flew, and galloped, and slithered, night’s black agents, as man’s corruption withered. From afar he watched their dance, entranced, bewitched, enraged yet defeated. His threat, his ire, all fell in mourning as the beasts roared, howled, and shrieked, and the horseback maiden laughed.

Witch! the beasts cried as they leapt, and danced, and sung, and made merry while the serpent swam in her spring of renewal. No man dared to draw near again. When the sun broke over the mountains they fled, away to the waking world once more. But something old awoke in the morning, a force unknown called by a voice always heard.

---

---

    Marie changed quickly, her mind still racing from the previous night’s procession. Such power they wielded, she and Josephine’s coven, such fun. Even Holt seemed to glow the next day, clearly having been deprived of the primal ecstasy that came from the witches dance. It was pure freedom.

    News of their dance travelled quickly into town, the younger residents and travelers believing whatever fantasy reports had been written about an explosion caused by an electrical storm, but the older ones knew. They were fearful and distant, but they understood. Jeff Bayley overstepped, forgot his place, and was punished. Marie caught a glimpse of him as she rode past the valley, dejected and defeated. She thought that maybe, given the recent attacks launched by the Hounds, he might look a little more smug, but she and Josephine had done more than enough to crush his spirit.

    Holt and Marie were weary as they made their ascent, fearing that the Hound attack might have put a wrench in their plans. Fortunately, none of the cities Genevieve mentioned were hit, no one Marie knew were in the affected areas, now craters, and her general apathy for the people there seem to win out. She was concerned, yes, but she was now more determined to complete Genevieve’s mission and continue the search for Gwyneth’s lost possessions.

    Marie removed the cell given to her by the Ambassador, the little charm on the back dangling and glistening as she and Holt continued their climb.

    Is now the time? Holt thought to Marie, galloping away from El Paso in no particular direction.

    The Hounds have shown their hand. It was only a matter of time until we enlisted her help again. Now more than ever, we need the Ambassador.

    Marie dialed the only number on the phone, waiting to hear the line pick up. Once it did, she spoke first.

    ”Some things have changed. I’ve left my group in Las Vegas and I’m sure you’ve seen the news about the Hounds. Where can we meet?”

Icon rocketed skyward in the direction of the multiple black choppers that had descended on the area above Sherman Square when something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. It was another of the mechanized suits, but this one was different from the others. The matte black mech was larger than the others, and unlike the others was more of a giant suit than a walking tank. From above, Icon watched as the mech moved unnoticed toward Sherman Square and leveled its left arm at the heroes there, and gasped as what looked to be the muzzle of a mini gun emerged from the mech’s fist.

“No.” Icon said as he banked hard back around, putting himself between the mech and those in the Square just as it opened fire.

Dozens of rounds rained down on Icon. Had he been a normal man, he would have been torn to shreds in an instant. However, the bullets bounced harmlessly from his chest, neck, abdomen, and face. As the mech unloaded its mini gun at him, Icon stepped unfazed toward the mountainous machine and reached out to the outstretched mini gun and grabbed it, yanking it from the mech’s arm in an explosion of sparks and smoke.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Icon asked just before the mech’s other arm grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air, and aided by the hydraulics in the suit’s arm, slammed him hard into the pavement, cracking beneath him. Icon struggled against the machine’s vice-like grip, however, the powerful mech had all the leverage, and was able to maintain its hold on the hero.

Icon reached up and took a hold on the mech’s “hand” which was placed firmly around his neck. He pulled and pried at the mech’s fingers until finally, they began to open. Once Icon had loosened the machine’s grip, he was able to free himself. With the mech’s arm in his grasp, Icon fought to get back to his feet, first rolling over and then getting up on one knee, until he was able to stand. Once he was on his feet he looked up to where the mech’s face ought to be and smiled as he rapped the arm from its socket. Then, he tore into the mech, punching holes in the body of the towering suit, ripping and pulling it apart until he had pulled the pilot from inside of the suit—and then binding the Hound’s hands and feet with cables that he had pulled from the wreckage, securing him to a nearby bicycle rack where he will easily be picked up by the authorities later.

No sooner had he rejoined Alexa and Flux in the center of the Square when he heard the amplified voice of Iron Knight announcing that they had somehow traced an energy signal from somewhere in the city that appeared to be going into space. The conclusion that Arthur had reached was that the Hounds were activating the satellite, and there was little doubt that Lost Haven was the target.

“Icon, can you take that thing out?” Iron Knight asked as he approached Icon and the others.

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried going into space.” Icon admitted. “But I guess there’s only one way to find out. Are you sure we’ve got the location of this thing” He continued as his eyes darted around the scene of the battle. Finally, he found what he was looking for, the large mech that had been fighting along side the heroes.

“As sure as we can be. According to this readout, it should be right…about…there.” Iron Knight said pointing to and area I the sky just south of Lost Haven. Icon nodded, then looked back over to the massive mech which had just retracted what looked like a massive chainsaw blade.

“Hey, you have a targeting system in that thing, right?” Icon asked. Upon getting an answer in the affirmative, he grabbed the large machine and began to lift off, but stopped, hovering several feet in the air.

“Just in case." Icon said to Iron Knight who just looked at the hero incredulously, and then shot skyward toward the location of the recently discovered satellite.

"Please, I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I just got scared!" The now comparably tiny officer said in her gigantic hand as he stared into her as he rose up to eye level.

Now he was face to face with her completely. This was a truly frightening experience as the officer never had been held before in the hands of lady, much less a gigantic one with huge baby blue eyes starring right at him before. It felt like looking into the eyes of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, only she was human and if it weren't for the fact she was frightening her eyes would have otherwise been quite pretty. Still, she had him in hand and one wrong word or move and she would easily be able to drop him to his demise. This, combined with the fact her hand's strength was unbelievable made the officer quiver with fear.

"Please, I have kids to feed! I was just trying to help the hostages!" The man exclaimed in fear.

"Ill get them next, don't you worry none about that." She said as she now held him in one of her massive hand and then she turned around slowly the window of the building.

As she turned her gigantic sandal impacted the pavement and made a slight boom and left some cracks from her step. Then she leaned over and looked inside to see the criminals still with their hostages, but behind a table to make a slight defensive fortification. This concerned her little as Lulissa's gigantic face peeked inside and stared at them in anger.

"You try anything on those poor folks and I'll squeeze the life right outta ya!" She ordered towards the criminals hiding inside the building.

At this both of the suspects lost heart and decided it wasn't the best time to piss off a gigantic building sized woman. Even if they could bluff or threaten to shoot the hostages, they know this would only had made her more angry and they have foolishly left themselves barricaded and trapped inside the building to her. She also looked very mad and ready to demolish the entire structure should she be pressed any further at this point.

Fear took hold of both of them and they decided not to press their luck, they hastily shoved the hostages and told them to run down and out of the building. While this did take away their only advantage, the frightening revelation that they were dealing with a giant angry woman who could bring down the entire roof upon them or worse was far more of a concern than the police outside. The cravens shivered so much they even put down their guns and their hands in the air. Whatever made her giant obviously was nothing they were used to dealing with.

"Okay! We give up! Just please, don't tear this place down or nothin!" One of them shouted back at her as he dropped his gun.

"Yeah, I wanna live!" the other said as he two lost heart and followed soon after dropping his pistol as well.

"Good boys." She said rather sarcastically as she then lifted up her other hand and then thrusted it right through the wall and window of the apartment complex.

Both of them screamed out in terror as her massive hand entered the interior of the room and rapidly approached them. In little over a minute she had grabbed them and pilled them both out with one hand like dolls. They didn't even struggle once her massive and sturdy fingers wrapped around them as they became too chicken to resist or struggle. The notion of resistance would be futile regardless as she lifted them both in her hand and pulled them outside with little effort. Suddenly the giantess had a cop in one hand, and two little crooks in the other. She couldn't help but grin as the mere fact she had them held like dolls and scared like mice was quite amusing.

This moment of amusement was soon cut short as police sirens were heard and soon a dispatch of more police cars were seen coming towards her in the distance. All with sirens hounding lights glaring. At this point Lulissa figured that explaining this very awkward situation would be quite daunting, especially as more and more police cars were closing in on her to the other side of the street. She was wedged in between both formations and thus she decided it would be best to try to make a run for it with the tiny humans she had in her hand. Diplomacy seemed defiantly out of the question by this point.

"Crap! I better get outta here while I can!" She said to herself as the giant building sized lady began to stampede down the other street parallel to the one she came.

The titaness then found that she was also blocked that pathway as well and the cars were heading towards her. There was no way she would be able to evade them coming directly at her. She had to deal with them somehow. She then thought of something before she began to dash right at the cards coming towards her. They eventually saw the giantess heading straight for them and thus they decided to set up a perimeter to close off the street.

As she dashed towards them both the two criminals and the officer in both hands would all scream wildly in fear as they were all helpless but to hold on while being suspended and on the move with her. Meanwhile the ground would shake and loud booming thuds with each step would make the police cars shake as the giant lady in sandals became closer and closer. Officers got out and pointed guns at her, but when they saw she had not only the criminals in her hand,but one of their own officers they refused to fire. She got closer and closer until she literally leaped right over them and in a spectacular and unbelievable motion the giant lady was able to launch herself right over them!

"Wooo hoooo!" She let out as she got air and then landed several meters away from the cars and policemen.

When her massive sandals hit the ground the street began to shake and loud, ear hurting booms were heard as two gigantic padded feet plopped down on the cement. Everyone on the force was shaken as was trash cans toppled over and nearby car alarms set off. However, Lulissa didn't take the time to do a aerobatic pose, instead she kept going while she dashed and stomped away from the line of cars. At this point the police officers began to fire at her backside in frustration, only to have little effect as she appeared to be impervious to bullets. Soon she would gain distance and move further and further away from the firing officers until she was out of range of their pistols.

---

Time: Day after Satellite Attack - Morning
Location: Paris, France

The true results of the massive attack made by the Hounds of Humanity were currently unclear it was clear to all that they were on the decline. Residents of Lost Haven rose up against them. The action griped the hearts of many but Odette changed the channel. A organization of that size was not to be easily toppled in a singular night or through a single blow. She was far more interested in the reports she was sure to get from Forge as soon as she levelled some of the their silver bullet facilities. It was the first step to squeezing the life out of their resources, without their weapons the witch hunters would be without their power. They waged a war against creatures and beings that were in it for the long run. As Odette believed, creatures that were far smarter and prepared for their mischief.

In her Parisian home, the library surrounded Odette and Bach on four walls, a large table in the middle of the room stacked with various books for reference. Open grimoires with notes, in the center of the heavy, polished - oak table was a fully detailed map of North America. Her pink smartphone sat nearby, vibrating occasionally with notifications.

Odette wore whisper grey romantic strapless dress, over her shoulders a vintage dusty pink jacket with symmetrical swirls at the shoulders wrapping at her waist with long sashes, accessorized with a silver shooting star brooch connecting just above her collarbone.

In her hand she held a sharpie drumming it against the table in thought. Outside it showered and the odd clap of thunder rumbled over the city. Bach was across the table, writing a few names down. He spoke in French, “It feels good to begin our search for a new portal location in earnest. The werewolves den was a setback, scared away some prospective support. With it behind us, scouting prospective areas ourselves we cut out incompetence.”

“We should avoid witch heavy areas. I don’t want to wrestle for dominance or sway for the local fair folk. They need to see I am their only option. There is a strong intersection of Leylines near Boston, but we would have no hope wrestling anything from the covens rooted there.” She tapped the map, crossing it out. “Once I am able to liken the locals, establishing a safe pocket where we can peacefully build the portal the smoother the build will go. Since we will inevitably be spending time there, I want to like it.”

“No cities in the Americas can compare to Paris, My Lady.”

“True but there are plenty we can mold to our comfort and vision.” She remarked, a sly smile spreading over matte red lips. “We are using a fair few of the same portal builders from before, but I want to extend the invitation to reach the ears of Tuatha de Dannan.”

Bach considered that walking away to a bookshelf, searching the spines. “Ambitious, but I believe we are capable of establishing that connection.” He pulled a massive green golden trim tome, taking the weight in both of his arms. He carried it back to the table, Odette came round leaning in close resting her chin against his shoulder to read over. “Tir Na nOg, accessible by way of portal but not without invitation. My people millenia ago helped to carve Lugh’s Spear. I would have no sway but unfortunately the Duchess Gelsey of the Yew would not either. She was born after their arrival on Earth, firmly tied with the Autumn Court as we know quite well.” He flipped the page, beautifully illustrated was the weapon in question, Lugh’s Spear. “A good a place to start. We could make appeals to the Summer and Winter Courts for visitation to Tir Na nOg. Attempt to garner King Oberon’s favour as we know Queen Titania is no friend of ours.”

“Titania may try to worm her way into knowing more than she has any right to. The Duchess on the other hand is firmly under our control, but she has grown rather meek. Perhaps she will need some...” Odette began tracing a finger along the page reading the translation notes, glancing at Bach. “Inspiration?”

“A boost of confidence.” Bach replied with a wry smile and Odette hid a laugh behind her hand.

“I will need Esen to shift his focus and efforts to rumours of our late Queen Mab. She is somewhere, I want to be the first to discover her whereabouts. If I am to appeal to her we can bypass Titania.” She suggested.

Bach tapped at the book, “Would she be worth the risk? Titania is an enemy we know, Mab was… After the war she became incredibly volatile. An inversion of her former self.” Bach cautioned. “None know where she dwells.”

Odette nodded, dragging her finger across the surface of the table. “All the more reason to get to her first. I will present myself as her only ally in this new and strange world.” She paused, considering the warning. “We will cross that bridge when we do. Simply knowing her whereabouts can be used as leverage.”

Bach nodded, conceding. “True, I agree. Very well, My Lady. Captain Esen will hopefully uncover some clues.”

Her phone began to vibrate, the screen lit up with a cartoon witch hat icon. “I was beginning to wonder when we would hear from White Witch.” She answered the call and put her on speaker phone. Before she even said hello, the witch began to speak.

“Some things have changed. I’ve left my group in Las Vegas and I’m sure you’ve seen the news about the Hounds. Where can we meet?”

There was a momentary pause, the slyest of grins spread across both Bach and Odette’s faces. She had listened to her. That was a development she had not expected, not so soon. No longer surrounded by the bumbling forces of good will, White Witch had done as Odette had suggested.

She responded, not bothering to disguise her smug tone. “Oh? The group of useless baggage and weight has been shed? Mon dieu, a true relief. Of course I have seen the news, the Hounds are splintering. I’ve made my own moves against them to remove their resources.”

Bach snickered.

“Tell me where you are and I will meet you. Obviously somewhere discreet where my portal will not draw attention.” Odette replied, her eyes twinkled with delight and victory. Nothing quite compares to knowingly holding influence over someone. The Ambassador never tired of the strings she held.

Somewhere deep underground, New Mexico, Texas.

All around her, there was but stillness. Not a fly, not a bug. The white marble walls all hummed with the magic of a dozen days of painstakingly carefull rune carvings. Seals in every language from babylonian to non-euclid math had been etched the stone. All to keep her contained. But she was death, and death was patient, becouse in the end, all things came to know her embrace. And so she had waited for close to seven years, kept isolated from all things alive or dead.She breathed in and tested the chains that kept her suspended mid air in the middle of the offwhiter room that was her cell. solidly iron, nothing in this room was organic. Not even a sliver of leather, becouse leather deteriorate much to fast near a creature that represent the very concept of finality and entropy. She shrugged as they seemed as solid as ever. She wasn’t getting away anytime soon.

“Tedious creatures. So very careful. “ She mused only to feel a sudden surge of something she had been denied for nearly a decade. The necrotic energy of a soul being separated from its mortal vessel.Someone just died, and within range of her cell. It was only a little, but it was like drinking water after a year in the desert, living of cacti. Her eyes glowed as she took another test with the chain. She wasn’t strong enough to break it yet, but this was enough for her to extend her senses. She felt it vaguely, life and death. The runes interfered with her magic, but she could tell a group of people were making their way to her. With each death, the same rush hit her. It made her squirm and grin, it was a feeling better then any high or earthly pleasure.

“Mmm.. Caliente” She flexed again, the chains rattled and strained. Not yet breaking, but she was getting there. She began to swing in her chains, laughing to herself. She felt someone die again, this time so close that she could discern it was from a knife to the throat. There was a gurgling noise to confirm she was right, and then the door, the massive iron gate of door was blown of its hinges. A man dressed in black tactical gear moved inside. He addressed someone over his communicator.

“I got the VIP secured. Releasing her now” He shot the chains off her with admirable aim. “Miss Muerte. I am here to take you away from here.”

“What is your name?” She asked as she rose back to her feet from a graceful landing. “And do you have a spare gun?”

“I’m Allin” He said handing her his gun. “You can take mine. The mission was to get to you, your our entire extraction plan apparently”

“Incan name? We’ll I’ve decided. You will get to live” She said and gave him a soul chilling grin. “Do you like your squadmates?” She strode past him.

“Not exactly. We are just mercenary picked for this mission.”

“Good. Because I need a meal.” They came to the first checkpoint, where to men dressed like Allin was holding of a group of similarly dressed up soldiers. Without stopping to take in the situation she leveled her gun and tapped them once in the head each. “Stay behind me, Allin of Inca.” She said as the necrotic energy was sucked into her very being. The boost was more than enough, she became a blur, speeding across the distance between her and the soldier in the moment. Putting them down with cold, unnatural precision. Allin tried to keep pace, still a bit shook from seeing his allies being put down like dogs so this monster could get enough power to take on the guard detail. By now, the facility was on total lockdown but nobody seem to be able to do much against the avatar of death. She killed personnel, guards and even her would be liberator alike. It was like a horror movie, blood made the floor slick, Allin found to guards impaled on a rebar that been ripped from the wall. two scientists had been kicked down into a vat of mercury and held there until dead. He was a mercenary though,and he kept his face stoic and heart calm. He had seen worse in his life.That's when they came up to ground level.

Mictal was a monster, a force of nature. Everything around her was blood, fire and ashes. She moved from target to target, in a constantly boosted state as the death around them further empowered her. She lept on top of a Abraham tank as the crew desperately tried to close the hatch, but somehow she managed to slip inside. There was the sound of screams muffled by several tons of armor, and then the tanks gun turret turned and fired at one of the watchtower and blew it into pieces. Allin could not believe what he was seeing. How could one person wreck this much havoc and terror. As the avatar of death got back out, she motioned for him to follow. Without hesitation, he did, keeping close and trying his best to help keep her back clear. But by now there was only stragglers left. He signalled for their extraction to come them pick thme up. As the black chopper landed he heard her ask

“Can you fly it?” He answered yes, know full well what she was hinting at. And sure enough, the sound of a gun followed the corpse of the pilot being tossed out. “Get us out of here.” She said with a smile.

“As you wish, My Lady Death.”

Location change: Sherman Square, Lost Haven

The tires of a Hounds of Humanity van screeched loudly as they attempted to drive off, probably away from that weird mist making its way around, or maybe David just caught them at a bad time. He stood firm in the path of the vehicle, holding it by the sides, his hands dug into the metal as the back of the vehicle swerved to the sides slightly as the Hounds attempted to free themselves. He pushed his hands in a little further, put them over his head, quickly shifted his hands to grip the cabin, and tossed them into the air like a pizza, sending them into a quick spin before he caught them.

David set down the van upside down and ripped open the door. He learned a long time ago that as Terra Firma he definitely lifted above his normal weight class and took great pains to pull his punches, so it felt extremely liberating to finally flex his muscles slightly, what with all mecha and armored vans.

The men inside were dizzy, a couple were on the floor struggling to stand, those left standing attempted to draw their weapons on David, and whether or not those guns would hurt wasn’t important. David briskly stepped inside and gave them a firm slap, each and every one of them, and their bodies dropped down onto the ceiling.

As soon as he stepped out he took a moment to look around, he thought he saw that Fletch person, but she was gone as soon as he thought he spotted her, nevertheless he thought he saw a bow and he was pretty sure that couldn’t have been anybody else.

A bow in this day and age, is she serious? Well it seems like she’s doing well, and she was pretty strong the last time I saw her, so I guess it’s fine.

A few more glances around and he managed to spot Pantheon again, and this time he was carrying around a weapon.

Where the hell did he get the bat, and it has spikes?

A woman had come face to face with Pantheon, he couldn’t hear the details, but he could read the bodies, they were having some kind of disagreement, probably about Pantheon. He hoped they wouldn’t start fighting now of all times, but if it came down to it he would charge in there too. But he hoped they would both see there was a bigger problem than Pantheon’s disregard for life, and it looked like they did as they both went back into hitting the Hounds.

David had no doubt in his heart that Pantheon had ripped apart even more soldiers before he got here, and he would have liked to have given him a piece of his mind. But the last time he tried it didn’t exactly get through, words wouldn’t be enough, and starting a fight with him would be pointless, no matter who won that nobody would change their ideals. That kind of thing was for another day, and maybe even for someone else.

Right now the enemies were the Hounds, so David went back at it. It seems that some of the others turned most of their attention to the mecha or the helicopters flying around, but the foot soldiers were still coming in great numbers, and they could easily catch the less bullet resistant heroes by surprise if they got lucky.

He felt a little apprehensive about using his other powers again, he felt a little winded last time, but David managed to push those feelings back as he drew into his earth powers again. Large hand like structures pushed out of the ground, cupping themselves over Hound vehicles along with a number of their soldiers, enclosing them in a stone prison.

“Whoever of us can reach and survive in space better get up there and take out that satellite,” Someone had shouted. “The Hounds are communicating with the satellite and I doubt they’re going to be sending us kisses and hugs.”

David turned his head to see who was talking, he couldn’t identify them but he could see that the man was making his way over to Icon, and it looked like they knew each other.

David wanted to join with them but space wasn’t like anywhere he’d fought, and he wasn’t whether or not he needed air as Terra Firma. Although, so far, it looked like he didn’t actually breathe. He had vague memories of fighting on the ocean floor, debris and smoke didn’t bother him, and his recent experience with landing a plane on the ocean seemed to reaffirmed all this.

Even if some problem arose he could probably fly back down to safety, and besides, fighting a giant space gun is exactly the kind of story he wanted to tell Madeline one day. So he quickly made his way to Icon, who was now holding some kind of mech, though it was different from the Hounds, bigger and a little more intimidating for one.

“You said we found the satellite right? I can go with you. I want to help take the fight to the Hounds and that damned satellite!”

---

“So, tell me where you are and I will be there.“ The Ambassador asked, but it could be easily interpreted as an order. There was precious little in this world she asked nicely for. There was no point in pleasantries  with the White Witch. They were only at the beginning of their quest for Gwyneth’s memories, plenty of work laid out the road ahead. While it was work, there would be opportunities for fun… Even if Odette was the only having fun at the expense of White Witch facing her trials.

She waited for her response, drumming manicured nails across the table. Blue hair bobby pinned into a small bun at the back of her head, icy blue eyes scanning the map of North America. Her full face of makeup, as usual done up with expert hands wearing a bold red matte lipstick, a change from her typical nude pink.

”I’m in the Franklin Mountains about eight miles north of El Paso, Texas. There’s a clearing behind one of the larger peaks close to a system of caves. I’ll be waiting in the shade.”  Marie hung up abruptly, perhaps in defiance of the Ambassador’s tone of voice.

She and Holt touched down near a small hill in the clearing that blocked most of the sun, remnants of the cool night still flowing through the valley as a gentle breeze that would soon give way to the scorching heat. This time, however, Marie dressed for the occasion. She dawned a navy romper with long, billowy sleeves that gave it some Victorian flair, the waist cinched in with a silver-buckled belt of a similar fabric. She was tempted to wear boots, but opted instead for some open toed sandals with a slight heel. The glamour charm normally worn about her neck, however, was instead packed away. The Ambassador already knew her by one name, might as well know both of them.

What will you tell The Ambassador upon her arrival? Holt mentally questioned Marie, still under the guise of a great, black horse. We have been given no further clues regarding the whereabouts of Gwyneth’s next possession.

Maybe not, Marie responded, combing through her dark hair briefly, untangling the knots gathered the previous night and letting them fall into thick waves, but her power to conjure portals is useful, and with the Hounds scattering after yesterday’s attack, we’ll need someone powerful on our side.

Odette pursed her lips at the deadline tone, tapping the phone to disconnect.  “Someone is feeling feisty today.”

She peered over the map tracing a line to El Paso. “Are you ready to leave Bach?”

“Always ready for you, My Lady.” He replied.

She nodded once breezing out the room, a distinct clack of heels Vienna was waiting with her purse. Together they faced the large floor to ceiling mirror, Odette raised her hands beginning to call upon the Arcane Stream, hands surrounding with blue misty light. Words of Power that felt as familiar as to speak the name of a lover. The burst of life and light grew from a crack in the empty space, the formation of a door from within the light came next with golden polished hinges and doorknob. The portal creation took only a few minutes.

She opened the door stepping through, heel finding grass. The dry air was hot, the sun bright. Odette reached into her purse, pulling free a pair of heart shaped sunglasses. Bach came shortly after, he thought twice of his invisibility - lifting the veil for convenience of joining any conversation. She peered around, closing the door after Bach crossed. The portal dissolved with blue light.

“Discreet. Good.”

Marie and Holt stood a few feet away from the Ambassador’s portal, Marie turning her head to avoid the violent flash of light as the mystical construct dissipated. Her head immediately turned to the Ambassador’s fey friend, having only sensed his presence in their previous encounters. He seemed mischievous, harboring around him a sinister air, but what else would she expect?

She hopped down from atop Holt’s back, swinging her leg over the saddle as if she were a gymnast, her dismount much more graceful than the first few attempts. There was a tension between them despite how hilariously civilian they both looked. This would be their first true meeting, well, not considering the supposed council held by Gwyneth and the Ambassador, which left Marie both giddy and weary.

”I doubt any townsfolk will be wandering into the mountains any time soon,” Marie replied with a wicked smile, mentally recounting her ride with Josephine.

”An oil derrick went down the other night. ‘Electrical storm’ so I’ve heard. No one will bother us.”

Marie closed some distance between she and the Ambassador, standing now a few paces apart, the shade now retreating as the sun peeked over the hills. Holt trotted along behind.

Odette’s eyes glanced to Holt’s form, as a bigger creature he casted a strange shadow over the witch. She couldn’t read anything from him. Next she ran a judgemental eye up and down the White Witch’s outfit, some scars around her ankles caught Odette’s attention. They looked relatively fresh akin to a burn. “How oddly specific. I safely assume you were involved in someway. I certainly hope that is not how you were injured, the little scars on your ankles are telling.

She gestured to Bach, “This is the first ‘official’ introduction of my partner, Bach. He has been by my side since day one, he was not present for my little trip into Gwyneth’s illusionary world where I met her. That was a special to do.”

Bach stepped forward, a pleasant smile and a sweeping bow he said, “A pleasure.”

“Firstly, what happened after we parted way in Las Vegas?”

Marie nodded to Bach, a little chuckle escaping her lips. She loved the formality of the fey. Holt bowed his head in unison, the gesture made more grandiose by his equine appearance.

Sighing, Marie turned back to the Ambassador, recalling the night’s events with no lack of spiteful fervor.

”After you left, I sent myself and the group to a stronghold beneath the city, the workplace of the Lachance coven, one of Five, well, Four old witching traditions in Vegas. Once their leader, Genevieve, healed me of my injuries and the silver poisoning, I took a walk outside to clear my mind.”

Marie looked down at her ankles, having forgotten about the ordeal until now.

”A few months ago, I aided S.T.R.I.K.E. in the capture of some maniac named Diplodoc. A woman under his control who calls herself the Silver Sorceress had a personal vendetta against me. She’d apparently escaped prison and come looking for me, among others. I was still weak from the fight with the Hounds, I couldn’t combat her illusions. She made me see . . . it doesn’t matter.” Marie quickly changed the subject, not wanting to linger on any sour memories.

”But it helped me see things differently, made me remember who I was, both figuratively and literally. I had a memory of myself as a little girl, no older than four or five, being shooed from a village next to a dense forest. Sound familiar?” Marie’s head perked up, hoping for a bit of confirmation from the Ambassador, who, ironically enough, was the most well versed in Gwyneth’s history between the two of them.
As The Ambassador listened, her eyes never left the witch. When the mention of illusion, Odette believed the Silver Sorceress preyed on her while White Witch was weak and went to a tried and true method of playing upon fears using shades of the past as her puppets. It unintentionally inspired White Witch, possibly lending to break from her little pack. The vision she had did sound familiar, when Gwyneth was a child she had lived in a remote village on the edge of a forest.

She scoffed, “This Silver Sorceress is under the thumb of another? A sorceress with no agency of her own is no true practitioner. Had I been there, Doctor Diplodoc would have been missing his puppet. Had you been at full strength she would have suffered a similar fate, no? Will we be expecting another attempt?”

Marie shook her head.

”No, she left a message for me before she left. Something along the lines of ‘you’d be dead if I wanted.’ I think seeing me in distress did enough to sate her desire for revenge.”

Odette nodded, “Good, we do not need the distractions. As for your vision… what you saw was a glimpse into Gwyneth’s childhood.” She began, walking over to the shade now. She lifted her sunglasses perching them on top of her head. “She showed me everything. A woman who’s life was defined by one betrayal to the next. The world she has crafted for her soul inside Sight, and seemingly across all pieces of her soul was a stroke of master craftsmanship. Do you realize just how powerful your prior self was?”

”Her soul?” Holt spoke aloud, turning to Marie who looked equally as perplexed.

”Gwyneth’s soul is split between her various possessions?”

This was a crucial piece of evidence that had formerly been missing from Holt and Marie’s understanding of Gwyneth. But now, it all made much more sense.

”That’s why I feel her power when I interact with the items. They aren’t just keys to my memory, they harbor seeds of power!” Marie was overjoyed. Though she was still unsure what happened to force Gwyneth to take such bold action, it provided some insight into her past.

”It is no simple task to rend one’s soul from their body in such a way, certainly not if they wish to maintain the level of autonomy of which you speak.” Puck’s warning rang even more true in Holt’s mind, now knowing what he did. If they continued to collect pieces of Gwyneth’s very soul, Marie would surely lose herself to their cause. But it wasn’t his place, nor his desire, to hinder Marie with this knowledge.

The Ambassador nodded in agreement, acknowledging the familiar.

”I’m guessing all that power had something to do with how she died. Why else would she split her soul into so many pieces? There must have been enough of her essence wandering around to be reborn, drawn back to this world by the other halves.”

Marie turned back to the Ambassador, eyes wide with anticipation. She’d managed to win this little bit of information, but would the Ambassador volunteer the rest of what she knew so easily? Marie decided she would need to take a different approach, arrive at the answers to her questions in due time.

”When you met with her, Gwyneth gifted you with her Sight, yes? Have you seen or felt any other items since we last spoke? That one memory is all I’ve been able to come up with since, I don’t know what triggers my visions.”

Odette’s eyes narrowed, their shared excitement confirmed Puck was staying firmly out of this particular affair. She hadn’t assumed he would have revealed anything, but he knew everything she did. He may have dropped his own clues to the witch. “She did and no, I have not. Truthfully I do not know what to expect or where to expect the next item to appear. I was brought to Las Vegas by other means.” She lied. She knew there was seven more items to collect, but she was sincere in not knowing how it felt to become aware of the next item. She had an idea.

“Have you attempted to use Sight? I was only able to access the trunk that held the coins. Using them is outside my expertise.” She admitted casting her gaze away, never fond to use or engage in divination tools. “Her items have a habit of blocking locator spells.”

Marie removed the small trunk from one of the bags strapped to Holt’s saddle, moving closer to the Ambassador in the quickly fading shade. Its contents were a strange assortment of wooden, copper, and bone pieces or coins, all etched with symbols Marie didn’t recognize. A few looked vaguely familiar, like individual characters from other magical scripts and alphabets she had seen in the past, but even if that were the case, they were likely used to represent an idea entirely separate to their original meaning.

”The thought had crossed my mind, but I can’t make sense of these markings. Gwyneth must have developed her own divinatory system. It has elements of classical geomancy mixed with hints of scapulimancy, though I don’t know from where the bones came, but other than that, I’m not sure.”

Marie closed her eyes, hands gripping the small box tightly, hoping that their meaning would become evident. It was a long shot, but perhaps her power to read them would return when put to the test. Rather unconfidently, she took a collection of coins into her hand and tossed them into the air. Much to her surprise, they never touched the ground.

Instead, the collection of coins scattered in the air just above the coarse dirt, twirling slowly in place at various distances from one another, revealing that most of the coins had markings on both sides, slight alterations of the opposite side. After a moment or two, the coins finally stopped, levitating immobally.

Stunned, Marie walked around the collection of coins, which, she soon noticed, formed an irregular pattern on its own. She scanned each face, hoping to make sense of their meaning. Unfortunately, most remained uncoded, but three of the coins stood out.

”Caledfwlch,” Marie read the first coin, ”That’s the Welsh name of Excalibur, though she likely didn’t mean for it to portray the actual sword of legend, but an item of power or import.”

The first divination showed promise. If Marie had been able to accurately read that coin, it must have been a clue for the location of Gwyneth’s next item. The following coin was decidedly more abstract, separated from Caledfwlch by a few other coins. Marie took longer to decipher its symbol, but eventually came to a solid conclusion.

”I think this one roughly translates to faerie or spirit? Maybe devil? But it isn’t literal, more of a metaphor for something a spirit does.”

The final coin was instantly recognizable to her. It was the alchemical symbol for air, only a coin between the first two.

”Air? Maybe the upper air . . . OH! Thought, intellect, the mind, which is the domain of air.”

Marie did a final pass of the coins, but those were the only decipherable three of the lot. Their closeness to one another surely meant something, though Marie was unsure what that could be.

”Does any of this sound familiar? Can you make sense of the last two halves?” Marie posed the question to the Ambassador, Bach, and Holt.

”Caledfwlch, Excalibur, is in reference to your next possession, that much is certain. Perhaps ‘air’ is the nature of this item.” Holt theorized, unable to decipher the rest, likely as a result of Marie’s own uncertainty.

“Clues by vague divination. Joy.” Odette replied dryly, looking over the symbols and considering them Bach did the same, his language skills being of use. “Air represents communication as well. Devil, spirit is traditionally that of radical change or…” She searched for the word. “Malléable, influence, I am not well versed in such things.”

“Bach, your take?”

He crossed his arms, studying the runic symbols their relation to each other. Scratching free a few leaves from his head. An impish smile broke across his face, “I am not well versed on ancient human languages but I am better equipped to make educated guesses. What could possibly be a vessel for knowledge? Your mind? Your thoughts?”

He pointed, holding the answer but reveling in the cryptic meanings. Taking the opportunity for a lesson. “Come now, My Lady. This is easy.”

“If it were easy, my dear we would not be puzzling over it.” Odette replied. “Be clear.”

Bach turned his attention to White Witch, giving her the opportunity. “Where would you keep your thoughts? Where was the best place to store your knowledge six-hundred years ago? Especially if one was literate.”

”A book,” Marie responded with less enthusiasm than she should, not because she wasn’t pleased to have arrived at the same answer, but because the answer still didn’t get them any closer to finding the item in question.

”The item is a book, but that’s not very specific. Maybe there’s something else here that details what the book is about or what it’s called. Witchcraft, obviously, but so far, each of Gwyneth’s items has had a name and some hint as to its location. There must be something we’re missing in the runes I can’t read.”

Bach grinned still, “There is something more, but while My Lady had a fair guess at the faerie/spirit rune think on what else faerie are famously associated with. That final rune my first guess is Hearth. It is a symbol similarly used across the Old World, a little different - naturally, but you see the way it is curved.”

“Bargaining, favours.” Odette supplied, she glanced to White Witch. “Gwyneth had ties with the Summer Court, even asked for news of King Oberon and Queen Mab upon my arrival. I believe she would make that association here within her divination tools.” Feeding tidbits as they came relevant should satisfy the Witch’s thirst to know more.

Marie went over the words in her mind. Book, Bargain, Spirit, Hearth. Book, Bargain, Spirit, Hearth. Knowledge, Book, Spirit, Hearth . . .

”Oh my god!” Marie exclaimed. ”I think I know what it is!”

Marie opened the small trunk filled with other coins, those she’d cast floating back to their proper place before she closed it and set it aside.

”You were close with the King and Queen of the Summer Court, which is amazing by the way, but what other powerful spirit-like being did she almost certainly interact with, someone she would have shown you in your meeting with her?” Marie questioned the Ambassador, eyes wide with glee awaiting a certain response.

“Oberon and Mab are a strange pair, even by Fey standards.” Odette replied, thinking back to her conversation and what other characters she learned about in Gwyneth’s story. Remembering the striking figure cut by the Witch-Father Bucca, she was far more interested in what she learned about Puck’s association to him but why is Bucca relevant now? The only figure closely related to traditional depictions of a Devil. She looked to the rune.

Pursing her lips, she shrugged, “Bucca, she showed me an image of the Witch-Father. Perhaps on the heels of mentioning that Hekate led me to Gwyneth’s Sight. How either of them are relevant, I am unsure.” She looked to Bach who was grinning anew.

“What is so amusing?”

Marie decided to pocket the mention of Hekate for the moment to focus on their current dilemma, but was no less shocked, honored, and wary of her involvement.

”When I was a little girl growing up in Boston, the Bucca came to me. Before I knew anything about Gwyneth, I always assumed that He’d given me my power, that I’d entered into a contract with him as a child. But that’s just how I rationalized it to myself growing up; I never signed a book like in the stories, he gave me a book. I can’t remember what it looks like or what was in it, but I think He might have ensured one of my items reached me, reawaken the witch-fire and jump start my memory, perhaps at Gwyneth’s request.”

The scale of involvement White Witch was connected to, what Gwyneth represented stunned The Ambassador. Her own involvement in this giant puzzle no less fantastic, mysterious in a way threads of fate connected. The significance of being burned by witch-fire months ago, briefly considering who could possibly guiding both of them. Was it Gwyneth, orchestrating it all?

A few moments passed in silence, she finally replied, eye fluttering from her thoughts. “With no contract, involvement with Bucca and eventually Puck. The coincidence is far too great. That book must be the next item. Hearth, home. It seems we are headed to Boston.”

”He opened my mind . . .” Marie whispered to herself, piecing together the string of coincidences that had led to this moment, just as the Ambassador. A word rung out over the mountains.

Mind.

The sky turned black, a vicious wind howling over the high hills, calling to them all. What came next was not a vision, but a manifestation. A light bloomed at their feet, growing until it enveloped them all, depicting an eerie landscape of gnarled trees aligned to form an arch, shading a dishevelled path to an unknown destination. A woman’s voice called to them.

”With Eyes to See, all is blind without a Mind to know.”

A strange sight floated down the path, a book, made of fine leather with silver vines and leaves decorating the border and spine, forming a latch over its pages. And just as quickly, everything returned to the way it was, the sun now firmly over the mountains, relentlessly beaming down on them.

Odette blinked, unmistakable was Gwyneth’s voice. The vision was fast, vivid and she felt she was back inside Sight, the brush of a soul as it were. Eyes wide she looked to the White Witch.

“Did you see that?”

”Did you see that?”

They spoke in unison. Confirming they did indeed experience that at the same time.

“That was her voice.” Odette said, breathless.

They had only collected two items, two portions of Gwyneth’s soul, and already her power began to manifest so heavily. Marie was shaking, overcome with joy, the fruits of her labor beginning to bloom. But then it dawned on her what going to Boston meant.

”The last place I saw that book was at my parent’s house. Don’t know how I’m going to explain this . . .”

Marie’s parents always believed her to be the most reclusive person they’d known. They were overjoyed when she finally moved into the city, hopeful that she would experience life in a new light. Perhaps they had gotten their wish, and the Ambassador’s presence would make for an excellent excuse to return to. Marie would introduce her parents to her best friend from Maine.

”Lady Ambassador of the Fair Folk,” Marie put on a mischievous grin to put Puck to shame, ”I hope my BFF of two years is ready to meet my parents.”

Location: Sherman Square
Time: During the Hound attack

---

“So… do you have any bright ideas over how to deal those?”

The virus’ voice rang in Racheli’s ear. His shape stood just in the corner of her vision, about a meter behind her. She wasn’t surprised if she was the only one that could see him. The bastard liked to fuck with her, making her come off to be crazy to others.

Before the woman, four large Mechs were menacing down on her. Their size rivaled two-story houses while the guns on their left arms raised upright and ready to fill her with bullets. Racheli could hear each tiny gear grind and squeak against each other the moment the gun was raised. Above, the rain and wind began to hammer downward. Each droplet tried to pierce into her coat. The water dripping along the creases before they rolled off onto the ground. Lightning streaked across the darkened skies as a loud crack followed in its wake. The flash illuminated her features in the darkness. Her mask obscured her sea-green irises flooded with the color of onyx.

The guns fired.

Metal bullets flew out of the muzzles, driven by the subtle flash of gunpowder and smoke. Racheli’s figure tried to move out of the way before the air around her warped. Abruptly the metal bullets slowed then stopped in place, held there by some invisible force. Rain and wind whipped about the still figures before the shells fell, useless, onto the ground. Their ringing drowned out by the storm.

Racheli’s eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t even raised her palm to stop them before realizing who had used her magnetic abilities, her head whipped to space just behind her. The Virus held a wicked, knowing smirk across his lips. His eyes fixed with hers to let her suspicions fester a moment more.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She snapped.

His smirk seemed to widen at being noticed then replied, “Keeping you alive. You’re lacking training and knowledge over how to fully use your abilities. Most of all, you are lacking what’s the word… Ah, tactical skills.”

He then pointed back at the threat looming over her, “Try to keep your focus in the fight, not on me. I’ve warned you once already…this time it’s not training.”

Racheli’s eyes widened in realization before a metallic fist rushed into her peripheral vision. It collided instantly just when she turned her head, the electrical energy erupting in her skull. She felt her feet leave the pavement as she was sent flying into the nearest building. Instinctively Rach’s arms wrapped about her head when she bashed into the wall. The concrete spiderwebbed from the impact point before she crumbled into the ground, cursing loudly. Weakly she pushed onto her hands and knees, trying to clear black blood from her vision. The mechs began to step forward with each rumbling step betraying their location.

Unfazed by Rach’s failure to defend herself, the Virus casually walked to her fallen form. His arms held at his back’s nook while he navigated the shortest route to her. When he finally reached her, his figure leaned over.

“Will you…please listen to reason? Let me in or we’ll both die,” He calmly requested, hoping a less forceful demand might yield better results.

“Fine,” Rach snapped, getting tired of being a punching bag for the walking tin can, “On one condition: No one is killed.”

He began to protest, “They are just hu-”

“Take it, or leave it!” Rach interrupted, finally wobbling to her feet.

The Virus sighed then nodded his understanding, “Very well. No one gets killed…”

He lifted his arm to press to Racheli’s shoulder then vanished from sight, a small voice whispering in her ear.

“Now… just relax while I feed that violent nature of yours.”

Then everything went dark.

The Virus flexed his newly gained control as his head leaned to one side, then flipped to the other. Both motions made an audible crack making him smile. Slowly his arm raised once more and extended outward toward the nearest Mecha. Again energy warped about Racheli’s shell causing the magnetic metals to shake then screech upon being bent away from him. The mecha, either ignoring or unaware of the danger, jerked its arm back for another punch. It let it fly directly at the ‘helpless’ woman.

The edge was met by an invisible wall as the Virus smirked, using Rach’s lips. His fingers then crushed into a fist, the palm still facing his target. Metal quickly crumbled inward like a tin can. The effect traveled from the knuckles to the forearm and up the bicep, making a path toward the cockpit.

His other hand raised a finger then wiggled it side to side, “Tsk, tsk. I shouldn’t expect humans to actually used the brain cells that evolution gave them. It’s expecting too much.”

As fluid leaked through the ruined arm, the Virus tugged his arm back behind him. On cue, the mecha’s own arm was ripped from its socket then tossed to the side. Metal across the woman’s neck melted into small trails, traveling down the arms and into the hands. Long, wicked claws formed rapidly. Subtly a single trail from each clawed ‘glove’ had slithered along the side of the body into the soles of the feet. The Virus intended to use these paths to navigate the electrical currents into the ground where they would be harmless to him. As long as he kept his feet on the ground that is.

Not wasting time, the Virus rushed forward. The right hand sliced into the mecha’s lower left leg as his magnetic field repulsed the limb into the one behind it. Electrical energy darted into the body only to be caught by the metal being used like a lightning rod. It scorned the leather enough to leave blackened lines across the sides where the path was located.

Unbothered by the shocking he had received, his sixth sense alerted him to a new round of bullets coming in. Eyes jerked to the mecha he had knocked down with the thrown leg and watched it angle its gun arm upward. He twisted out of the way just when the muzzle had flashed. Meanwhile, his earlier victim was struggling to remain upright while on one single leg. The weight shifted then tilted finally to the right causing it to come toppling down. The virus ducked behind mass for cover, the bullet shredding the back. When the

“That’s not playing fair at all,” he noted then pulled away from his makeshift cover.

The Virus twisted about to face his aggressors as his arms jerked upward, flipping the fallen mech into the air. It rotated in mid-air before it came crashing down on top of the remaining mechs. Feeling confident, he straightened his jacket collar then walked over to finish the job. A mistake because one of the machines managed to angle their gun from the tangled mess and opened fire.

When the bullets stopped... Racheli's body fell back onto the ground. Water slowly tainted by black coloring spreading from her torso.

McCoy's Saloon
Kansas City, Missouri
July 4, 1870

The hot, muggy air clung close to Jeremiah Crane as he leaned back in the wobbly wooden chair that sat around the card table. A thin layer of dust cloaked everything in the dimly lit saloon, but then again a thin layer of dust covered everything out west. He didn't miss the New England winters, but he sure as hell missed not choking down a tablespoon of dirt with every meal and every drink. How the people here didn't have severe intestinal problems was beyond him.

The bar was clearly, at one time, some sort of burlesque theater. There was a stage, which now featured far less subtlety. The whores of the establishment now displayed their...goods to entice the patrons, while a burly man in a porkpie hat played ragtime on a piano. Behind the bar, a portly, balding man who looked like he hadn't gotten sleep in years poured whiskey for his patrons. The madame of the brothel stood in the shadows above the stage, standing guard over the makeshift rooms where the men had their fun.

Outside, the revelers celebrating the country's birthday could be heard. The drunk yelling and celebration was more muted here than other places in the Union, no doubt. Kansas City passed between Union and Confederate control during the war, and there were still many that harbored ill will for the Union in its victory. Still, the party was going on as strong as it could in the face of that.

Inside the saloon, he looked at his cards again and smirked slightly. His hand sucked, of course. A two of diamonds and a ten of clubs was nothing to write home about. But the card game didn't matter. It was just something to pass the time before the real reason he came to this dive on the skirts of Kansas City went down. The other men around the table were about what you'd expect from frontier rabble. Dirty, dingy, and wiry, they looked like they all wanted to take a piece out of Jeremiah, which was probably the case.

One other man at the table he didn't have to worry about. The large, imposing black man with a stare of steel sitting across from him. Isaac Freeman wasn't one for the deception like Crane was. He rarely talked in situations like this, but was always two steps ahead of everyone else. Being an escaped, now freed thanks to Lincoln's declaration, slave probably had a lot to do with that. When you're on the run from figurative monsters who want to own you, you have to be smart. Isaac was as smart as a person could come.

"So, Yankee," one of the men hocked into a spittoon after saying the word, "what brings you to Kansas City?"

Jeremiah tipped back forward in his chair, and tipped his wide brimmed cowboy hat back so it was sitting on the back of his head. He put his cards down, and took a large sip of the half finished beer that sat in front of him. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his faded-blue Union duster. It had seen better days, but he was proud of his service in the name of freedom. America wasn't a perfect country, but he was doing what he could to make it better.

Kansas City was on the way to everywhere in the United States. Whether it was people from the east headed west, or vice versa, everyone traveled through Kansas City. Which is why Isaac and Jeremiah had come. They had heard tell of disappearances in the city. Most of the missing were drunks and vagrants, the kind of people who always go missing. But there were also talks of more respected members of the community missing. Young men visiting the brothels when on their way to homestead were allegedly not making it to their final destinations. The two things, to Freeman and Crane, meant the kind of prey they specialized in.

They had asked around the city, and found that McCoy's had a reputation. The most...talented girls could be found there, but also some of the most dangerous men you would ever meet. When they had entered the house of ill repute, Jeremiah noted that the women were incredibly beautiful. Many men had come through the doors since, and many had left looking happy.

The men running and guarding the place, however, didn't look all that tough. Led Crane to believe that they were indeed the people they were looking for.

"Well, gentlemen, my friend and I are looking for a pack of vampires, if I'm being completely honest with you," Jeremiah smiled at the rest seated at the table. "We believe they've been using this brothel as a feeding ground. It's a smart location for it. They're to be commended. But I can't allow decent homesteaders to become lunch when all they're looking for is a bit of fun."

As the Hunter spoke, the bar became dead quiet. He and Isaac were the only non-regulars in the facility, and Crane knew that. Whoever was in charge here had sensed something different about these visitors. The remaining people in the bar were either vampires or humans under their control.

"Seem to have touched a nerve there," Isaac grumbled as his muscles tensed.

Outside, fireworks began to explode, and flashes of light illuminated the dark interior of the saloon.

"We 'erd there was a hunter in town," one of the other men smiled, revealing his fangs as he did. "Didn't think he was stupid enough to come walkin in da front door though."

"Well, I was never the best student," Jeremiah smiled. Suddenly, he and Isaac flipped the table into the two men sitting to the left of Crane. They then sprang upon the two vampires to the right. As he sprung up out of his chair, Jeremiah slipped his flask from a pocket, and flicked the stopper open. He tossed it at his first target, splattering the vampire with holy water. The monster recoiled in pain, and got a stake to the heart in the process.

Isaac had also dispersed with his vampire, and just in time. The two of them turned and had to duck below the table, which the other two card-playing vampires had thrown at them. The opening gave the vampires the time they needed to get the jump on the two hunters.

Crane was pushed down by the superhuman strength of his attacker, but managed to smear his hand in the spilled holy water as he hit the floor. He swung his palm up and pressed it against the face of his attacker as the vampire came in for a bite. He flinched back, allowing Jeremiah to unholster one of his guns. He fired a round into the vampire's heart, who then exploded into dust.

"The wooden bullets actually work!" he laughed in celebration to his friend, who had just managed to stake his second vampire of the night.

"Great," Isaac responded, catching his breath. "Now let's see if they work at a longer range!"

Isaac motioned for Jeremiah to turn around. When he did, he saw the whores of McCoy's saloon bearing down on them. Jeremiah took a deep breath, and let go with his two revolvers. Each time the hammer struck, a firework exploded in the streets, accentuating the thunder of the Colt-made pistols. The flash of lights from the celebrations were like lightning, illuminating the deaths of the vampire temptresses.

Almost all his shots found their target, except for one. The final remaining vampire was steps away when a thrown stake found her heart, stopping her in her tracks and killing her.

"You missed one," Isaac picked the stake up and put it in his bad.

"Well, nobody's perfect," Jeremiah smirks at his fried while reloading his gun. While he does so, hear hears rustling near the door behind him. He turned and fired a warning shot, finding the portly barkeep attempting to escape. The man recoiled into the fetal position, and began to shake.

"P-p-please," he stammers at the two hunters. "Don't hurt me. I'm not one of them. T-t-they took my wife and daughter! Took over my bar! Made me work for them!"

"Then who was the boss?" Jeremiah looked at Isaac sideways.

"The Madame," both of them said simultaneously.

"Probably long gone by now," Crane shook his head.

"They have a ranch," the barkeep said, getting a hold of himself. "That's where they take the men. That's where they took my girls."

"Looks like we're making a house call," Isaac smiled at Crane.

A house call indeed.