Issue # 11

"Snake Pit"
By Dale Glaser

"The next bill for the House’s consideration," the Speaker’s drawl echoed through the marble chamber, "is S-30774, Amendment to the Unemployment Compensation provision of..."

The Speaker of the House was interrupted by an explosion ripping through the ceiling of the House chamber. Small chunks of pulverized marble rained down hard on the legislators in the room, and a chaotic cry of alarmed voices filled the room. The visitors in the gallery began rushing for the doors immediately, but the legislators’ instincts for self-preservation outweighed those for escape; the lawmakers fell to the floor or scrambled under their desk-shaped voting stations, hands clasped behind their necks like children during an air raid drill. Before the blast had finished echoing or the dust had completely settled, two dozen men in green hooded jumpsuits with yellow trim began rappelling down from the hole in the ceiling. Each man of the invading force carried two stylized assault rifles, shoulder straps crisscrossing their chests. The green-and-yellow-clad terrorists descended to the floor of the House chamber and began to move outward from the center, climbing the stairs to the seats of the legislators.

Two police officers ran into the now evacuated upper-level gallery, service revolvers drawn. Bursts of automatic rifle fire greeted them from multiple sides, riddling the police officers with hot lead. The officer entering the area first was carried forward by his own momentum, until he collided with the wooden railing that ran at waist level along the edge of the gallery. He lay draped over the dark, polished rail as his deep red lifeblood drained forth from multiple bullet wounds. His partner was dropped in mid-step, and convulsed in shock and pain in a crimson pool on the gallery floor for a few moments before growing still.

Mike Levant was one of the youngest members of the Louisiana House of Representatives. Most of his fellow legislators were silver-haired, pot-bellied good old boys, who served their constituents as well as an average person given a taste of power could be expected to. Levant was still something of an idealist, trying to make the world a better place for as many people as possible, not just himself. His ash-blond hair was beginning to darken with sweat as he watched the terrorists assume their positions around the room after callously murdering the two police officers. He thought about his wife Daisie and his young children Ty and Caitlin, and how badly he did not want this morning to have been the last time he would ever see them. And Mike Levant forced himself to believe that it didn’t have to be.

Levant crawled out from under his desk and slowly stood up, hands held high in the air. He could hear whispers around his ankles of "crazy" and "what are you doing" and "get us all killed", but he ignored them. He cleared his throat, and one of the men in green jumpsuits whirled on him, assault rifles aimed at Levant’s chest. Levant gritted his teeth and said a prayer, but the terrorist did not shoot. He simply regarded Levant disinterestedly, his eyes hidden behind wide yellow lenses in his hood. Levant, his mind inexplicably fixating on random details such as the padding on the front of the terrorist's uniform which so resembled a snake's belly, found he needed to clear his throat again, and once he did he said, "Whatever it is that y’all want, I’m sure no one else needs to die f’you to get it. Y’all’ve proven what you’re capable of. Please, just tell us what it is you come here for."

The terrorist facing Levant did not relax his grip on his weapon in the slightest. When he finally spoke, it was without emotion. "What we want, will come to us. Your lives guarantee that. Once we have what we want, your lives no longer matter."

Levant decided he did not like the sound of that philosophy one bit. Mustering all his courage, he pressed on, "Who ... are you?"

"We await the Kali Yuga," the terrorist replied in the same flat voice. "We are the Cult of Cobra."

"What’s goin’ down, More?" Ember asked as he leaned against the communications console of the Riverboat.

"Not a lot," More replied. He was seated before the array of screens and controls, intently focused on the computer monitor.

"You keeping the world safe?" Ember continued inquisitively.

"World seems pretty safe as is, at the moment," More answered. With a slight smile, he continued, "Actually right now I’m just reading an e-mail from Chandi."

"Who?"

"You know, Chandi Gupta. That girl, Maya, with EuroGuard," More explained patiently.

"Oh, yeah, right," Ember acknowledged, stiffening slightly. "She’s a ... a little young for you, isn’t she, More?"

"For both of us, Romeo," More agreed, looking pointedly at Ember for a few seconds. Then the large, muscular man laughed, and continued, "Down, boy, it’s not what you think. It’s just e-mail, not cybersex. She’s a good kid. We’re friends."

"Right," Ember nodded. Hastily changing the subject, he ran his hand up and down the side of the commcon and said, "You know, we really oughtta think about upgrading this system."

"I think Pierce did a pretty good job with it," More shrugged.

"Oh, there’s nothing wrong with it," Ember conceded. "For a first-generation system, it works. But it could be better. We can’t always have someone here manning it. Thing oughtta run itself."

"You mean, like, artificial intelligence?" More asked doubtfully. "I hear that’s pretty expensive."

"Yeah, but now you guys have got me around," Ember grinned, clapping a hand on More’s bulging shoulder. "Now you’ve got me."

"We sure do," More shook his head, amused. Then his demeanor became serious as a flashing light on the console caught his attention. The beacon indicated increased activity on one of the law enforcement radio channels; in this case, the State Police scanner. More turned up the volume on the band.

" ... believe some casualties inside, numbers unknown. No sounds of gunfire since. Repeat, unidentified individuals have taken members of state legislature hostage in State House, request all units to converge at once ..."

More and Ember looked at each other. "Time to fire up the Blood Signal," Ember suggested.

A shimmering red disc appeared just above the asphalt at the intersection of Spanish Town Road and Fifth Street in Baton Rouge. The seven members of Bad Blood stepped out of Enigma’s warp portal, and the red disc spiraled shut behind them.

"Tell me again why we didn’t teleport right into the State House," Valence demanded.

"Because so long as we operate under the assumption that Kobra is gunning for us, we also have to assume that this attack is a deliberate attempt to draw us out," Pierce stated authoritatively. "They’re expecting us to warp right into their midst. I don’t even want to think about what they’ve got waiting to deal with us at that point, but no question it’s something we don’t want to get suckered into. But if they’re all focused on the inside, a direct attack from outside might be our best chance to catch them off guard and end this thing quick."

Valence crossed his arms over the circular emerald emblem on his chest, but appeared satisfied. No one else offered any argument. Pierce continued, "So Enigma, Hangfire, Ember, Karnival, you’re going to warp over to the top of the Arsenal Museum, stay out of sight, and wait for my signal. Valence, More, come with me." Pierce set off at a run in the direction of the Pentagon Barracks, on the opposite side of the state capitol building from the Arsenal Museum. More loped after him and Valence glided along in the rear.

Enigma opened another warp portal and gestured Hangfire, Ember and Karnival through.

"Can you put us behind something?" Hangfire asked before entering.

"There’s not much on the roof," Enigma explained apologetically.

"Everybody stay low, then," Hangfire ordered, and moved into the warp, followed by his teammates.

On the roof of the Arsenal Museum, overlooking Capitol Lake, the four heroes gathered in low crouches. As Enigma had said, the roof was almost perfectly flat, except for one small standpipe that vented the building’s heating system.

"All right, a little more cover, coming up," Karnival assured his companions. An illusory weather-beaten metal box appeared before them, generic camouflage large enough for all four to hide behind. "Let’s just hope any bad guys who glance out the window didn’t memorize the skyline before."

"So now we just wait for Pierce’s word," Ember sighed impatiently. Enigma nodded, drawing his deep red cloak around his body.

Hangfire checked his guns one at a time, and returned each to its holster after examination. He glanced over at Karnival, whose demon-skull visage was as impassive as stone. "You sure this mission isn’t too political for you, Karnival?" Hangfire asked.

Karnival let out a small laugh. "This isn’t about doing favors for manipulative shadow branches of the government, this is about making sure innocent people don’t get hurt by fanatical cultists. Not quite so much moral wrangling necessary."

"Just checking," Hangfire accepted the answer with a smile.

Across the way, Pierce, Valence and More reached the Pentagon Barracks. More began climbing up a utility ladder bolted to the brick wall of the building. Despite his size, his strength made it a quick task.

"Valence, in the interest of time, could you give me a lift?" Pierce asked.

"Huh? Oh, sure," Valence acquiesced, placing his hands under Pierce’s arms and rising off the ground. As they ascended through the air to the roof, Valence tentatively asked, "Pierce ... how much do you trust your buddy Wagner?"

"Why, you want to add Vic to the Kobra Conspiracy file?" Pierce retorted.

"Nah, it’s just ... I don’t know, have you noticed the way Ed gets around the Magna of Illusion? Wagner said he put some kind of mystic lock on it, but it’s still got some kind of effect on Ed."

"I’m reasonably sure Vic wouldn’t have claimed to render the Magna harmless if he didn’t believe he had done just that," Pierce answered. "Perhaps Karnival’s powers just give him a certain affinity for it. Are you concerned enough to suggest we do something about it?"

Valence considered for a moment, as he set Pierce down on the roof of the barracks, then replied, "I just don’t want anything bad to happen to my friend."

"What’s gonna happen?" More asked.

"We’ll address it later," Pierce asserted curtly. Tapping his helmet, he activated the surveillance technologies embedded in the visor, and stared at the capitol building. The structure before him was replaced with a ghostly green image against a black background, populated by brighter green figures, some in motion, others relatively still.

"All right," Pierce began, speaking into the subaudible transceiver which connected the team by radio, "from what I can see the Cobra cultists are pretty much concentrated in the main assembly room. There’s a pair of them at the front doors of the building, just to dissuade the cops, I’d wager. The legislators are still in the main chamber as well. We’re going to have to split their forces and move as fast as possible. Here’s the plan. They aren’t guarding the hole they blew in the roof to get themselves in, so Enigma, you warp your group to the top of the capitol building. We’ll take the guards at the front door, and split up to enter the main chamber at different points. Ember, you’ll fly in from the ceiling when we make our entrances, and the rest of you come in after that. Everybody clear?"

Various affirmations resounded across the subaudible connection. "It almost sounds too easy," Enigma commented.

"We’ll see. Let’s go," Pierce ordered. Two red flashes of light atop the Arsenal Museum and the Capitol Building signaled Enigma moving half of the team. Pierce moved to the edge of the roof and said, "Valence, take the guards’ guns out of the equation, and I’ll handle the guards themselves. More, back me up." He fell into a swan dive off the roof, landing gracefully on Third Street. As More jumped off and Valence followed airborne, Pierce approached the throng of state police cruisers and television vans assembled in front of the building. The police, reporters and cameramen made way for the armored ex-Knight, then made even more room for More’s bulk as he came behind. Pierce stopped near a police cruiser, gave a quick look over his shoulder to nod at Valence and More, and leapt into action.

Pierce vaulted over the roof of the car and sprinted up the steps. The guards inside the glass front doors brought their guns to bear, but Valence rose aloft from the crowd and magnetically jammed the triggers, rendering the weapons useless. Pierce reached the doors and swung one open, grabbed its edge to brace himself and threw both his feet into the face of the closer Cobra cultist. With a loud crack of armor against jawbone, the cultist fell to the floor. Pierce landed on his feet and crouched under the swinging fist of the second guard, then threw his elbow hard into the guard’s midsection. The cultist staggered into the glass door, which disappeared from behind him as More arrived and threw it open, then brought his free fist down on top of the cultist’s head, swiftly knocking him out. Valence flew up the steps and entered the building with More.

Pierce continued without hesitation. "More, down that hallway to the side entrance to the assembly chamber. I’ll take the other side. Valence, you get upstairs and enter through the gallery."

Before complying, Valence said, "Pierce, these uniforms ... these guys really did come from Kobra, didn’t they?"

"Yes," Pierce agreed. In that single word were more emotions than any of the members of Bad Blood had heard in Pierce’s voice before: rage and regret and the need for redemption. Without speaking further, the three split up.

Pierce reached the side entrance to the large legislative chamber, and slowly eased the heavy wooden door open. As he had assumed, the nearest Cobra cultists were facing away from the doors, watching the middle of the room expectantly. Pierce raised one gauntlet through the opening between the door and the wall, and fired a piton into a column a short distance away. As the pointed end embedded into the marble, the electronics in the head of the piton began emitting a nearly deafening wail, filling the chamber with echoing noise. Pierce dove into the room.

The first minion of Kobra Pierce encountered was quickly dispatched with a quick series of blows. Pierce drove his knee into the base of the cultist’s spine while shooting an arm out over the cultist’s shoulder. The cultist arched involuntarily backwards from the pain exploding in his lower back, and Pierce brought his extended forearm down on the flailing man’s exposed neck, flipping him over his knee to the floor. With his free hand, Pierce fired a concentrated sonic blast from his gauntlet at another Cobra cultist, catching this one on the side and spinning him around as he fell backwards to the floor.

Pierce drew the attention of most of the minions of Kobra in the room, and the high-decibel noise from his electronic piton covered the entrances of More, Valence and Ember from different sides. As Pierce backflipped and somersaulted out of the path of incoming assault rifle fire, More entered from the opposite side, hoisted the nearest cultist up off his feet, and hurled him into another three Kobra followers. The force of the throw ensured that all four cultists flew some distance together after impact before finally skidding, dazed, onto the floor. Valence flew through the doors of the upper gallery, and found himself confronting two cultists bringing their rifles to bear on him. With a small flex of his magnetic control, Valence mangled the guns, wrapping the inert steel around the hands that held them. Another mental command, and both guards swung their metal-encased fists at one another’s head, knocking each other out. Ember soared into the room in a fiery spiral, gaining speed with every descending lap of the chamber, until at last he barreled headlong toward two guards, and sent a flaming fist crashing into each one’s face, dropping them instantly.

With nearly half of Kobra’s force removed from the fight, the remaining members of Bad Blood entered the fray. Enigma warped himself, Hangfire and Karnival to the middle of the chamber floor, then in a swirl of red immediately vanished through another portal depositing him in the midst of the cowering legislators. In short order he began to teleport them to safety. Hangfire took aim at one cultist after another, squeezing off precise shots and tagging his targets. His guns were loaded with rubber mercy bullets, to reduce the risk to the hostages should his aim err, but three cultists went down in as many seconds without a round of ammo wasted. Karnival stood slightly behind Hangfire, raising his skeletal hands and creating an illusory maelstrom between them that would soon tear through the ranks of the cultists.

At that moment, one of the better-trained terrorists evaded one of More’s bone-shattering punches, and quickly performed a textbook judo throw on the off-balance strongman. Now it was More’s turn to fly through the chamber, and he collided with Karnival, bringing both men down in a tangled heap. Kobra's minions were beginning to regroup after the surprise of the initial assault, and proved they were in fact prepared to deal with Bad Blood. A cultist, who had remained hidden in the pulpit-like structure from which the Speaker of the house presided over the chamber, emerged from behind the enclosure with a huge energy cannon held in both hands. An orange cape affixed to his shoulders by golden clasps marked him as one of the leaders of this force. He fired the weapon at Ember, knocking him out of the air above the tiers of desks. Another cultist grabbed Ember’s body as the flames gave way to the gray bodysuit underneath, and tossed him down to the main floor, where he landed with a thud.

Valence had been removing the fallen police officer from the gallery railing when the shot on Ember was fired. Quickly laying the officer in a more dignified repose on the floor, Valence jumped over the railing and flew at the caped cultist, reaching out magnetically to pull the energy cannon from his opponent’s grasp. Much to his surprise, he could find no metallic component of the weapon to take hold of, and Kobra's lieutenant fired again, dropping Valence as easily as he had felled Ember.

More and Karnival were beginning to regain their feet, but Ember and Valence appeared completely stunned. Enigma warped down to the main floor once again, in hopes of protecting his vulnerable teammates from further attack. Hangfire continued sniping at the remaining cultists, and deflecting incoming fire back at them with his forcefield.

Two cultists approached Pierce, with their guns hanging against their hips. In the cultists’ hands were Eastern weapons of hand-to-hand combat, golden katars. One of the pair also wore a yellow neko-de, a spiked glove, on his opposite hand. As the cultists advanced on Pierce, he could see over their shoulders that the rest of Bad Blood had been gathered in the center of the room, despite their efforts to remain apart and split the Cobra forces. Now the entire team, except himself, was vulnerable to a single attack. He was unsure if the attack would be made against six out of seven, or if they would wait to maneuver him into the open, and he could forestall the fate awaiting the others. Pierce made his decision instantaneously, detaching his telescoping bo staff from his forearm and extending it to full length. He gripped it in the middle with both hands and thrust it at a slight angle between the two approaching cultists’ heads. Pierce then flipped through the air, adding a half-gainer that spun the bo staff. One end of the staff cracked against the back of a cultist’s head, and the other end smashed his counterpart’s nose. Pierce landed behind the staggering cultists and darted to the middle of the chamber floor.

"Enigma, get us all out of here. Not far, just out of range so we can come back in and this time not give them one big target!" Pierce yelled.

"What?" Enigma yelled back. The electronic piton was still emitting its voluminous sound screen, and making communication nearly impossible.

Before Pierce could attempt to make himself understood again, the cultist holding the energy cannon reached for the back of his belt and produced a small, silvery egg-shaped device. He lobbed it at the marble floor of the chamber, where it exploded, creating an eddy of white light across the surface of the floor that surrounded Bad Blood. The light vortex rushed about madly, with spiked waves cresting and falling along its surface, and then began to dwindle, as Bad Blood faded from sight. When the last of the white light was gone, so too were the heroes.

The first few legislators evacuated by Enigma had informed the police of Bad Blood’s arrival, and now the SWAT operatives made their way to the assembly chamber. Most of the Cobra cultists had been incapacitated by Bad Blood, and the few remaining fought the heavily armed police to evade capture or die trying. The cultists gladly gave their lives in service of their master, Lord Naga, the man they had christened as their avatar of Chaos. Soon the police had retaken control of the room, cuffing the unconscious terrorists and starting to collect the rest in body bags. Though badly shaken, the remaining members of the House still in the chamber were largely unharmed.

Yet Bad Blood was nowhere to be found.

After an immeasurable period of intense disorientation, the members of Bad Blood found themselves in a barren, open area. The hardpan stretching out to the horizon in all directions was dotted here and there with scrub grass, but otherwise featureless.

"Where are we?" Ember asked, shaking off the last of the effects of the energy cannon.

Pierce flipped open a small readout panel on one of his armor gauntlets. "No signal from GPS," he reported.

"Whatever they hit us with mess up your armor’s systems?" Hangfire suggested.

"Everything else is online," Pierce replied. He turned in a slow circle, sweeping the area with his helmet’s long-range scanners. "There’s a town in that direction," he indicated to the others. "We’ll head there and find out our location."

Together, the team started to walk in the direction Pierce had identified. After a few steps, however, Karnival fell to the ground. More dropped to one knee to help his teammate up, but before he could put a hand on him, Karnival’s body began to flatten against the dusty ground.

"What the hell?" More demanded, as Karnival appeared to physically disappear, leaving behind only an image on the surface of the earth. "What kind of power did they hit us with, one that zaps us away and then collapses our bodies?"

"That has only happened to one of us," Enigma pointed out.

"Karnival!" Valence said insistently, landing on the other side of the afterimage. "Ed!"

Slowly, the image of Karnival began to rise from the ground. The apparition was two-dimensional, but soon stood on its feet, looking at the other members of Bad Blood with a queasy uncertainty across its bony facial features. "This ... is pretty freaky," it said.

"Karnival?" Hangfire asked. He tried to touch the figure before him, but his hand passed through.

"It’s me," Karnival’s depthless self answered. "I don’t know how, but it is."

"Our illusionist seems to have become a walking image himself," Enigma observed wryly.

"Can you reverse it, make yourself solid again?" Pierce inquired.

Karnival clenched his two-dimensional fists and gradually shifted back to a full, solid form. "Whew, that’s a relief," Karnival exhaled.

"So do we keep heading for the town, or do we try to figure out what just happened to K, there?" Ember asked.

"I think I’ve got the leading theory," Valence opined.

Pierce looked back and forth between Valence and Karnival, and finally said, "Exactly how much time have you been spending with the Magna of Illusion, Karnival?"

Karnival shrugged. "I don’t know. You really think it did this to me?"

"It’s often hard to make an airtight case for causality where mysticism is concerned," Enigma proffered. "However, the Magna may have exerted some influence on you, or your dimensionality at least, per its nature. Perhaps a sudden dimensional stress would trigger the response we’ve just witnessed."

"What exactly qualifies as a ‘dimensional stress’?" More asked.

Enigma spread his hands. "From what little has been documented about the Fifth Dimension, I would say any experience there would qualify. Perhaps even time travel, a reversal of normal orientation along the fourth dimension ..."

"Of course," Pierce seethed, "of course! Kobra wouldn’t simply teleport us away to a different location. He wants us removed from the game board as he moves things into the final phase, so he shunts us off through time. That’s why I can’t get a GPS fix on our location – whenever we are, there are no satellites."

"Kobra can do that?" Valence asked in disbelief. "Blow people through time?"

Pierce was no longer listening. He trained all of his sensors in the direction of the town he had indicated. After a few moments, he spoke. "As far as I can see through a zoom pick-up, I’d say we’re in mid-to-late 19^th century America. I still suggest we head for town, find out exactly where as well as when we are, then figure out our options for getting back to our own time. But we can’t walk in looking like this. Karnival, if you’re feeling up to it ...?"

"I’m fine," Karnival insisted, as illusory images settled over all of the members of Bad Blood. In moments their costumes were covered with chambray shirts and long dusters heavy with dirt from the trail, dungarees and boots, and Stetson hats. The outfits retained some of the characteristics of their costumes: Valence appeared to have a green bandana tied around his neck while Ember wore no jacket and his shirt appeared to be yellow silk ; Hangfire’s duster was black and Enigma’s was maroon; Pierce’s belt buckle was the shape of his horsehead insignia, and More’s jeans were held up by bright blue suspenders. For himself, Karnival had chosen a purple, yellow, green and black poncho, and a weather-beaten sombrero. "Now I’d say we’re ready to hit the town, amigos," Karnival declared, "an’ we don’ need no steenkin’ badges!"

Once again, Bad Blood set off toward the town in the distance on foot. No words were spoken at first, until Ember spoke, asking, "So, anyone here ever do any time travel before?"

"I don’t think so," Hangfire answered, and when no one contradicted him he continued, "but we probably should establish some ground rules, huh?"

"Such as what, don’t hit on your grandmother?" Valence scoffed. "Not a problem for me, believe me."

"I was thinking more along the lines of, don’t use your powers overtly, or at all if possible. Don’t set off chain reaction events we’ll have to clean up later ... and since we don’t know what might set them off, just keep a low profile," Hangfire explained.

"Until when?" More asked, not entirely sure how he would keep a low profile under any circumstances. "What exactly is the plan for getting back where we belong?"

"When we belong," Valence corrected.

"I’m not sure," Hangfire admitted. "Where we’re headed, we probably won’t find any help at all. But once we know where we are, we can move on from the one horse town to someplace we’re more likely to ... to ..." Hangfire looked to Enigma in supplication.

"In a worst case scenario," Enigma expounded, "we would simply have to make our way to the best facilities available in this time and research our own solution. But there is no telling how long that would actually take. En route to that fallback position, we will simply have to follow any lead we may find which points toward a pre-existing solution."

"Can’t we just send a letter Western Union to ourselves in the future and have them ... us ... send a time machine back for us?" More asked earnestly.

"I’m gonna let you think about that a while and figure it out for yourself," Ember said half-mockingly to his massive teammate. Turning to Karnival, Ember said, "What about you, K? Anything in your mental rolodex that applies here? Some Dr. Fate of the wild, wild west who could alakazam us back to the second we left?"

"Doesn’t ring a bell," Karnival confessed. "I’ll let you know if anything jumps out at me."

The possibilities and improbabilities were discussed further, until Bad Blood reached the outskirts of town. They passed between two indistinguishable one-story buildings built of rough lumber, and stopped just shy of stepping onto the main street of the small western town. A few passers-by spared looks in their direction, but quickly dismissed the strangers as ordinary, thanks greatly to More hunching over as far as he could.

"You’ve been awful quiet, Pierce," Hangfire observed in a low voice. "What’s up?"

"Just thinking," Pierce replied evenly. "Thinking that Kobra might not be satisfied with trying to strand us in the past. He might have taken additional measures to make sure that no matter how resourceful we might be, it’s a one-way trip."

"And zere you would be correct, mes amis," a sinister, reedy voice startled the team from behind. As they turned to look at the speaker, a shrill whistle, clearly signaling to others, pierced the air. Bad Blood faced a man sitting in a heavy saddle atop a dusky palomino, with several other men on horseback joining him from either side of the buildings the heroes stood between. The man who had addressed Bad Blood was dressed smartly in the more urbane fashions of the time period, including a dark coat and ruffled shirt. He leaned forward on his saddle horn with an air of superiority, as one of the other riders drew up next to him, this one cradling a shotgun across his lap and bearing a sheriff’s star on his faded duster.

"These the boys we’re lookin’ for?" the sheriff asked in a gravelly voice.

"Yes, ze ones I have been searching for, wanted criminals, every one," the man beside the sheriff confirmed with a lop-sided sneer.

"You strangers got anythin’ t’say for yourselves?" the sheriff demanded.

Pierce began to object, but was unable to hear his own voice. Slowly, as the others realized Pierce was saying nothing on their behalf, they protested as well, but all found themselves unable to make a sound. A wholly unnatural silence enveloped Bad Blood, and the identity of the man with the French accent came to them in a sudden realization: Silencer, the sound-nullifying assassin who, along with the rest of LocoForce, was in the employ of Kobra.

"Had your chance, then," the sheriff sighed, when it became apparent no answer was forthcoming from the seven strangers. "Suits me fine if you want t’come along quietlike."

More rose up to his full height, and several of the riders behind Silencer and the sheriff reacted fearfully. The sheriff brought up his shotgun one-handed and bellowed, "Christ, what the hell is that? Answer me, dammit!"

The sheriff’s words could not reach the ears of the members of Bad Blood, but his intent was clear enough. The heroes again struggled to communicate, waving their hands wildly, but without accompanying words their gesticulations only served to enrage the sheriff further. Silencer continued to leer malevolently down at Bad Blood, clearly enjoying their suffering.

"All right, boys, these sons a’bitches think they’re too good t’answer me," the sheriff called out to his surrounding posse. "Let’s teach’em some respect!" If not for the blanket of impenetrable silence cast over them by Silencer, Bad Blood would have heard the iron click of all the riders pulling back the hammers of their guns.

TO BE CONTINUED...!

MESSAGES WRITTEN IN BLOOD ...

Send e-mail correspondence to badblood51@hotmail.com

This month brings another missive from long-time BB-fan Andrew Lee. Take it away, Mr. Lee:

I really dug the way you tied stuff together in BB #10. Money like a playboy bunny.

Thank you, Andrew. As always, your eloquent brevity is inspiring.

If you'd like to voice your opinion, make suggestions, or rant and rave about how you can't believe we devote web space to this tripe, send an e-mail! Hurry, hurry, because soon enough FDC will be bringing you the ...

NEXT ISSUE: Bad Blood is stranded in the past, with no means of their own to return to the present in which Kobra is enacting his grandest scheme of chaos yet! When they find a being capable of helping them, will our heroes be able to pay the price required? Find out as we continue the breakneck race to our super-sized anniversary issue #13!