Issue # 18

"Two Invitations - Part II"
By Dale Glaser

"Where is the Checkmate Knight?" Protocol bellowed in a rage that even his difficulty forming the foreign words could not diffuse.

"Great time for our fearless leader to be on a walkabout," Hangfire muttered darkly. "Think we have a shot in hell of asking this guy to maybe come back later once Pierce is finished brooding?"

"Not really, he's already tried to kill us and done God-knows-what to Valence," Ember replied. He flew up from the shattered street, toward the roof of the Old U.S. Mint where Protocol still stood like a particularly petulant child playing king-of-the-hill. Ember was no more than halfway to the armored Russian when a charge exploded from the underside of one of Protocol's gauntlets. A rapidly expanding bolo of metal cording flew toward Ember and wrapped itself around him, then began to glow and hum with a high voltage charge. Ember grunted in pain as he fell to the ground, rattled. The damage would have been worse, but Ember's intense sheath of heat was already melting the bolo cord and shorting out its power source. "See," Ember growled, "no talking to the man. Let's just beat his ass silly before he does it to us."

"Valence? Can you hear me?"

Valence tried to focus his vision, which was a swirling miasma of grays. He thought he could detect a distinct, darker shape to his right, but his efforts to turn his head in that direction met with no success. He could barely feel his limbs, and generating movement in them was utterly beyond him. He tried to make a sound, but even his voice was paralyzed.

"Don't try to talk," the voice urged. "Just think. I'll hear you."

"Who is that?" Valence formed the words in his mind. "I can't ... can't see you." He was still having difficulty, even holding a thought.

"It's me, Delaina," the answer came. The dark shaped moved from Valence's side to a position in front of him, but he still could not bring it into focus.

"What's going on? What ... happened to me?" Valence asked, mentally.

"Spirit magic," Delaina answered. "Your spirit's been frozen and your body's been turned to stone. But I'm with you, here in the spirit plane, and I'll do what I can to set you right."

"Magic ... is the Russian dude's armor ... enchanted?" Valence asked.

"No way," Delaina immediately dismissed the idea. "If it was, it'd be lots more visible here in the spirit plane, but I can barely see it. I see the Russian ... and I see some other spirit with him, piggy-backing on him. I'm pretty sure that's the one who zapped you. Now tell me if this makes you feel any better ..."

"No."

"I haven't started yet, actually."

"I mean, no, don't spend ... any more time on me," Valence thought insistently.

"What? Why not?" Delaina asked.

"Because the guys ... don't know what they're up against," he explained. "Even if they did ... they've got nothing to work with. You said ... you can affect things here. Stop the spirit magic ... and then come back for me."

"But ..." Delaina began to protest.

"That's the way ... we do things," Valence cut off her thought. "You wanna join us? Get used to it."

"We've got to use the numbers advantage," Hangfire insisted to his teammates through the sub-audible radio connection. "Get on this guy from multiple sides. More, take the right, I'll take the left. Ember, try looping around to behind him. Karnival, you up for a big head-on distraction?"

"I'll do more than distract him, I'll blow his brains out," Karnival hissed back. "Metaphorically speaking, of course."

The illusionist stepped to the edge of the crater Protocol's mini-missiles had blown in the sidewalk, and raised his hands in bony claws over his head. The flickering, spectral flames rising from the fissure down the middle of his skull grew taller, and his entire figure grew somehow more visible. His costume was still jet black, fringed with dark green, purple and yellow, yet Karnival was now the clearest, brightest thing on the darkened street.

From Karnival's pointed fingertips, two shapes emerged. Rushing toward Protocol on the Mint's roof, the shapes expanded and coalesced into a pair of dragons on the wing. On the left, a crimson beast with a long, almost serpentine body streaked upwards. Its head was slender, framed in a pair of golden ram's horns, and its snout opened wide to display an array of needle-like fangs. On its right, a deep blue monster, snub-nosed and thick-limbed, brandished fearsome talons at the ends of its powerful forearms. Both creatures wore expressions of obscene malice on their reptilian faces, their eyes bespeaking sadistic intent.

Protocol recoiled several steps, reflexively raising both arms to use his system's weaponry against the dragons, horror in his eyes. Then, in mid-retreat, the fear seemed to leave him all at once. Protocol stepped forward and trained both gauntlets on Karnival. Even as the red dragon snapped its jaws shut around the Russian's arm, and its dark blue counterpart slashed heavy claws through Protocol's midsection, both accompanied by visions of jets of blood, the armored man paid them no heed. Rapid-fire energy bursts began to strafe the ground along a trail leading to Karnival, while Protocol laughed wildly.

"Oh ... so ... wrong!" Karnival cried out, falling backwards and flattening his body into its two-dimensional form. His shadowy image slithered quickly along the ground and out of the line of fire, but not before being clipped on the leg by two energy bursts. The picture of his skeletal face on the concrete contorted into an exaggerated grimace of pain.

The few seconds of attack and counterattack between Karnival and Protocol had been time enough, however. Hangfire had scaled the Mint and moved into position slightly behind Protocol. He unholstered two guns loaded with rubber bullets and unloaded them into a bulging pack on the backside of the armor that he assumed to be a power cell. The casing cracked with the first few shots, but the basic integrity of the pack held, and Protocol spun around to face him after no more than half a dozen shots had been fired. Several bullets bounced harmlessly off the chestplate of the armor as Protocol began to advance on Hangfire.

Delaina watched as the twin spirit images of the Russian and his astral companion stalked Hangfire. The Russian raised his hand, but the real energy was coursing out of the entity that was hovering just behind him. Hangfire curled into a fetal position almost immediately, and his aura went an unhealthy shade of blackish-green. More spirit magic, and if Delaina knew it rightly Hangfire was feeling sicker than he ever had in his life, as if every illness he'd ever suffered had returned all at once with a vengeance. She knew she had to figure out something fast.

Before she could, however, More had closed the distance on the rooftop between himself and the bad guy. With a bone-jarring backhand, the team powerhouse sent the armored Russian flying across the roof. The spiritual assault on Hangfire ended.

The Russian skidded and rolled along the rough surface of the roof, coming up on his feet. No sooner had he done so than Ember tore through the night sky and tackled him. Delaina could not feel the orange blaze of Ember's surface heat, any more than she could see much more than an outline of the armor on the Russian or Hangfire's weapons or anything else without spiritual energies. If Ember's expression were any indication, though, she could tell he was throwing off an inferno of heat.

Ember carried his quarry off the roof, rammed the Russian's head into a lamppost across the street, and let him fall to the ground. It seemed Ember had wisely decided not to stay in contact with the Russian long enough for what happened to Valence to happen again. Even as More bounded off the roof and Hangfire crawled toward the edge after him, Delaina could see the tagalong spirit slowly swelling, gathering energy into itself for a renewed attack. Delaina stepped off the roof, moving through the air as if running down an invisible staircase, and headed for the opposite side of Esplanade Avenue.

Protocol lurched to his feet, palming blood out of his eye. Hitting the lamppost had opened a gash on his forehead, and the blood was flowing from it freely. Still, the voice within him lent him strength, without which he would have succumbed to the pain and lost consciousness. Instead he focused on the two allies of the Checkmate Knight, the giant and the burning man, coming toward him. They would pay dearly for hiding the object of his revenge.

The giant spoke to the burning man, and Protocol waited for the voice to translate. He wished to know what the dogs said before he dispatched with them and resumed the true hunt. But the voice demanded that he turn his attention elsewhere, to the air overhead. Protocol saw nothing there, but then a veil seemed to part in the night sky, and a figure was visible. Protocol raised his gauntlets and fired.

Delaina saw the spirit image of the Russian pointing both hands at her, and the dim impressions of projectiles hurtling toward and then through her own insubstantial form. "Oh no, not goin' out like that!" she half-yelled, half-thought at the spirit behind the Russian. She hoped she sounded less afraid than she felt.

The disembodied entity rose up and floated toward her. It was vaguely human, with sharp features that looked as if they had been chiseled away at over centuries. The bottom half of its torso tapered into a vaporous root tethered to the body of the Russian. "Foolish girl," it growled at her. "I felt your eyes upon me and assumed you would make my presence known to your companions. Now I can see you have not, and you shall never have the chance!" The phantasmal tendrils of its fingers splayed out at Delaina, and black fire erupted from them, engulfing her.

Delaina hid her head behind her arms, knowing that the gesture meant nothing. Her hope lay in the magic defenses she had been practicing since she had first discovered the dark dangers of the spirit plane. Still alive a few seconds later, she knew the wards were working, so far.

The entity's face was already twisted in a permanent scowl, but Delaina perceived it growing angrier yet. "So you are not without your own talents," it sneered. "But they can be no match for the skills of Neroxis!"

"No doubt," Delaina murmured. "But that probably doesn't matter." She dove for the root of Neroxis's spirit form, wrapping her hands around it tightly. At the same time, she began to chant the rites of a voodoo exorcism. Neroxis howled, and she could feel the buffeting force of more spirit magics raining down on her. Her wards would not be able to hold up under the strain much longer, she knew, but she had nearly completed the rites. A spiritual sensation, akin to her heart hammering hard enough to burst, filled her soul and made her vision swim. She could still feel the trailing end of Neroxis in her hands, though, and she could feel it weakening. She chanted the final words, and felt the spirit's root snap.

In a long-dead tongue, Neroxis cursed furiously. Delaina could feel the redoubled efforts of his magics trying to worm through her wards and tear her apart. Still holding the tail of the disembodied entity, she willed herself into the physical world.

Protocol's back arched violently, his mouth agape in shock. More and Ember looked at each other questioningly, then saw Delaina drop from the air eight feet off the ground. A trail of smoke appeared to be billowing from her hands, and as Delaina hit the street she snapped it forward against the pavement. The cloudy shape burst apart in what appeared to be a cloud of white, fiery moths, which soon faded to nothingness.

"Hey, kid, you all right?" More asked.

"NYET!!!" Protocol bellowed, no longer frozen by his earlier paroxysm. He brought his gauntlets to bear on Delaina. More lunged to the side to place himself between Delaina and Protocol, while Ember instinctively shot up and backwards to give himself room for a diving charge.

From the brick wall behind Protocol, Karnival's two-dimensional form emerged, gaining solid depth a moment later. Karnival threw his arms around Protocol's, pinning the Russian's armored limbs to his sides. A volley of ammunition ripped into the concrete underfoot, and a second later Ember brought both superheated fists into Protocol's jaw in a double uppercut. Ember looped up into the night sky as Karnival allowed Protocol to crumple to the sidewalk.

"Delaina, are you all right?" Karnival asked.

"Uh-huh," she answered, still catching her breath as she recovered from the desperation onslaught of Neroxis's magics. "But we gotta get Valence ..."

"Nah, I'm fine," Valence interrupted her. He floated down from overhead, one arm around Hangfire's waist, who in turn had one arm around Valence's shoulders. "Told you to take care of business first, and see? Everything else works itself out."

"You told her to take care of what now?" Ember asked provocatively.

"Why don't we let her explain it back at the Riverboat," Valence suggested. "I'd say she's earned at least that much trust."

"At least," Karnival agreed. "If not more."

"Are you saying you want a re-vote?" More asked.

"Under the circumstances, it seems appropriate," Karnival nodded. "Especially since, for all we know, we might have an open spot on the roster."

"Now that you mention it," Ember said, "where do you suppose Pierce is?"

"Yeah, I really would have thought he'd show up by now," More agreed, serious concern clouding his face. "We signaled him before we left the Riverboat. I kept expecting him to swoop in any second."

"Honestly, so did I," Karnival acknowledged. "But he didn't. Couldn't come back, wouldn't come back ... either way we're short handed."

"Unless Miss Teague forgives us for getting off on the wrong foot with her," Valence added.

"I think that goes both ways, Valence," Hangfire pointed out.

"Does that mean it's unanimous?" Karnival asked.

"I don't know, I still have serious reservations," Hangfire shook his head, then looked around at his teammates, finally settling his gaze on Delaina. "And even if I go along, I doubt this is the end of the matter, since there'll be a lot to figure out as we go along."

"One day at a time, then," Delaina agreed. "And I am sorry about the way it all went down, sneaking up on you all like that. I didn't know what else to do."

"Ember?" Karnival asked. "You all right with this?"

Ember shrugged. "Why do I remember it being so much harder for me to get the invite? But sure, what the hell."

"Glad you're not bitter," Valence observed.

"Then I guess all we need to do is call the cops to come pick up ..." Karnival trailed off, as a pale white nimbus of light surrounded Protocol. A split-second later, he was gone.

"Son of a ..." More muttered.

"Leftover spirit magic?" Valence asked Delaina.

"I ... really, I don't know," she admitted.

"Just another mysterious, unexplained event," Karnival commented dryly. "Welcome to the life of Bad Blood, Delaina."

Protocol blinked uncertainly against the harsh light, as his eyes slowly opened. At first he was only aware of the way the bright glare increased the throbbing pain in his head, but after a few seconds he could sense several other people in the room with him, hidden in the shadows. He could sense several other people in the room with him, but they were hidden in shadows. With growing dread, he realized that the inner voice was definitely no longer with him. He was thankful that most of his armor systems still appeared to be functional, but was unsure how long that would be the case if he were forced to fight again immediately.

"We pulled your tail out of the fire back there," a man said from the surrounding darkness, behind the light aimed at Protocol's face.

"Ya ne panimayu." Protocol made the only response he could, recognizing English but unable to understand the words.

In near-perfect Russian, the same man replied, "I said, we delivered you from a dangerous situation there. Agreed?"

Protocol said nothing, wondering who was addressing him, wondering how many others backed the speaker up.

"We watched you at work, and we were impressed with what we saw," the man continued undeterred. "We have common enemies, and while it was gratifying in itself to deny them a complete victory over you, we believe it would be even more gratifying to offer you a position with us. Together we can defeat Bad Blood, which has become the reason for being of everyone in this room, apparently including yourself. Will you accept the offer?"

"Who are you?" Protocol demanded.

Hoisted on a chain, the light rose to the ceiling, revealing the occupants of the room. A hugely muscular man, a figure in unearthly silver armor holding a scarlet rifle, an unshaven, shirtless man in blue jeans and boots, a lithe figure in purple with an elongated, misshapen skull head, a man in green with a fleur-de-lys on his chest and metallic wristbands, and a man in a navy blue and white bodysuit standing closest to Protocol. "Your new best friends," the man in blue and white, who had been speaking all along, answered.

Protocol remained silent, but his eyes took in the men before him with a growing acceptance. Ultimately he gave a crisp nod to the man speaking to him.

"You call yourself Protocol, is that right?" the man asked.

"Da."

"And your real name is?"

Protocol considered the request for information a moment, and realized he had nothing to lose. "Gregor Vostok."

"Well then, Mr. Vostok," Headhunter said, extending a hand to his newest recruit, "welcome to LocoForce!"

MESSAGES WRITTEN IN BLOOD ...

Send e-mail correspondence to badblood51@hotmail.com

Longtime fan and correspondent Chris Herr sent me a letter quite some time ago ... sometime between issues 16 and 17 being posted. I didn't have time to include it last issue, so here it is now. Take it away, Chris ...

Dear MESSAGES WRITTEN IN BLOOD,

I really enjoy the continued team development, as each character seems to get their time in the 'light' to grow.

Barter's handling of the group in Issue 16 was very skillfully written; Barter was edging them on even though he had already gotten what he needed from the deal. He really seemed like a master manipulator in that sense, and it was well conveyed. The situation also showed BB's unity together, rallying to back Pierce on his decision to make Barter drop the debt owed him by Valence, whether they agreed with Pierce or not.

I was curious if we would get to see more of More's background or his relations in future stories. Speaking of relations, I heard rumor that Pierce and               have an encounter in            , and possibly even                 ! Would Piece ever let such things          him? I guess we might have to wait and see-

Make mine FauxDC!

Chris Herr
Washington DC

As you can see, parts of Chris's letter needed to be censored, as he was getting a little too close to the truth about Pierce ... the truth which no one is supposed to know! How does he do it? Perhaps he's peered into the future and already seen ...

NEXT ISSUE: Just when the Crescent City was getting used to its metahuman defenders, a wave of sightings sweep the delta, in which eyewitnesses identify members of Bad Blood committing crimes! Have the heroes finally gone too far? You'll have to come back here to find out!