"Dead Reckoning"

The Ohyn fed like rabid, starving scavengers, for scavengers they were. They had come upon tonight's feast in a forsaken area north of the city that was less a neighborhood and more a shantytown with indoor plumbing. People who lived in the slum were unknown, and people who disappeared from the slum went unmissed.

The forceful double-cough of a throat being cleared should not have been audible over the noise of eight sets of teeth rending flesh and scraping bone, yet somehow it did cut through the sick, slavering clamor. Even in that rough, wordless sound, the dual qualities of the owner's voice were evident: simple biology, the breaking of phlegm and the soft hum of vocal cords, interwoven with unearthly torment unheard anywhere else on Earth. The request for attention which should have gone unnoticed instead brought all eight of the Ohyn to instant pause, looking up at the source of the noise, some with ribbons of muscle or strands of blood still dangling from lips and chins.

"Guillaume," one of the Ohyn acknowledged the man, who had appeared a few feet away from the feeding and cleared his throat. "Here to join us for a bite? Fatso here is more than enough for us to share."

"You know well I cannot eat," Guillaume answered. "Not even your sustenance is fit for me."

"Most human and least human of the Prelates of the Unperceived," another of the Ohyn quoted derisively, then returned to gnawing on one of the dead man's ribs. Most of his brethren had resumed eating, as well. Only one Ohyn was required to palaver with the Prelate.

"So why've you come, then?" the speaker for the Ohyn asked, slurping a tangle of blood vessels between its tiny lips.

Guillaume regarded the bloody scene before him. The dead man had been both tall and heavy-set, and his clothes appeared to have been dirty and frayed even before the Ohyn had shredded them to reach the soft flesh beneath. It looked now as if the man were pinned beneath some weird insect from Hell itself, five feet long with sixteen sinewy legs, as the small monsters had positioned themselves in two rows of four on either side of the man's body. "I come to ask a boon," Guillaume finally said.

"We don't do boons," the Ohyn answered, in a taunting singsong.

"It is a boon to yourselves, as well," Guillaume responded. "You cannot be forced to grant it, but to deny it would be disservice to your kind. To all our kind."

The Ohyn never took its large, ebon eyes off Guillaume, even as it tore a chunk from the dead man's shoulders with glistening crimson fangs. Chewing thoughtfully, the Ohyn speaker formed the words "Keep talking," around a mouthful of flesh.

Again, Guillaume considered the diminutive creatures neutrally as they continued to ravage the corpse. Occasionally the Ohyn would claw at each other viciously, each protecting its own section of the corpse. "Don't bogart the liver," one of the Ohyn whined, causing another to snap its teeth angrily in answer.

"There are agents of our opposite number in New Orleans," Guillaume explained patiently. "Left unchecked they may ultimately undo everything that makes the city … suitable as our home."

"And…?" the Ohyn pressed with uncanny awareness of that left unsaid.

"And they possess something which the Prelates desire. The Magna of Illusion. They do not grasp its power yet, and they must never be allowed to. They must be dispensed with as soon as possible."

"Or it'd mean the end of the Prelates. So sad," the Ohyn said indifferently, biting into the shoulder again.

"And the end of you, little ones. Quite sad," Guillaume countered, showing no love lost on either side.

The speaker for the Ohyn swallowed a hunk of muscle and growled, "Fine. We'll 'dispense' of your problem. Where do we find 'em?"

"In the swamp, in a seemingly abandoned riverboat," Guillaume supplied. He stepped closer to the corpse and the tiny monsters, and withdrew a cat's-eye stone on a leather thong from his pocket. "This will point you in the proper direction," he said as he held it out to the speaker for the Ohyn.

The Ohyn snarled and darted snakelike with its fangs aimed at Guillaume's hand. The sharp teeth gnashed together less than an inch from Guillaume's fingers, but he made no effort to pull back. The Ohyn giggled cruelly and took the cat's-eye with a miniature clawed hand. "You knew I wasn't really gonna bite you, right, Gilly? Guess that's why the Prelates sent you to talk to us."

Guillaume made no answer, simply disappearing into the darkness of the night.

"So how did you know it was the Atomic Skull?"

"Wasn't positive. It was one possibility."

"But you came prepared to take the Skull down. You brought the boron helmet …"

"And some other toys as well. Another possibility was a variant Amazo android, and I was packing computer-virus darts for that."

The exchange of More's simple questions and Pierce's terse answers was the only thing preventing the Riverboat's comm-con room from freezing over in uncomfortable silence. The previous day*, Valence had magnetically airlifted the entire team out of the downtown area. The threat of the Atomic Skull had been neutralized in no uncertain terms, and the police were on hand to see that Joe Martin was remanded to custody. Given the strained relations between the police and Bad Blood at the moment, discretion and a hasty departure seemed best.
(* In other words, after the events of last issue - DWG)

The heroes had been uneasily silent in their flight away from the city, and upon reaching the Riverboat had decided a day's rest was in order. They had agreed to reconvene in 24 hours.

Now the team gathered in their headquarters with a sense of expectation, but no one seemed to know where to begin. Six men who had faced down dangerous and deadly criminals and monsters dozens of times over, and the girl who had recently done the same at their side, shifted their weight uncomfortably on their feet and found it extremely difficult to look at one another. More had run out of questions and silence had locked the comm-con room down once again. Finally Pierce's voice cut through the palpable tension as he said, "I notice she's still here."

Pierce's comment was like a match thrown into a roomful of hydrogen, with immediate and explosive results. "All right, come off it!" Valence raged, insitinctively stepping toward Sojourn even as her eyes widened in disbelief. "You disappear for a month, you ignore our attempts to get in touch with you, when you finally do come back you have nothing to say unless you're answering one of More's softball questions, and now…! Now you have the gall to act all … affronted … because Sojourn's here? What's that about?" Valence's anger was genuine, but there was a hurt disappointment beneath the rancor, as well.

Pierce's helmet swiveled slightly on his shoulders, but his teammates recognized the practiced movement by which the former Checkmate Knight could take in an entire room at one glance. Valence had been the only one to give voice to his thoughts, but it was evident that the rest of Bad Blood felt similarly, as they glared at their long-absent member and awaited explanation.

Pierce said nothing for a long time, but finally relaxed his stance, so slightly that it was not seen by his teammates as much as felt, as the air in the Riverboat seemed less charged with potential violence. "There were … better ways for me to handle the situation," Pierce said simply. "But none I was capable of at the time. I only saw two options once we left Barter's Shop*. Stick around and tear this team apart, or take myself out of the picture. I did what I did for the good of the team. Would I have liked to be able to stay here and fix things rationally? Yes. Would that have actually happened if I had stayed? Doubtful. I bailed until I was ready to come back, and then I came back."

"But you're pissed that things changed while you were gone and couldn't control them," Ember suggested.

"Yes and no," Pierce answered.

"Look, Pierce," Sojourn said, stepping around Valence with a hand on his shoulder that was an expression of both gratitude and restraint, "You weren't here when I apologized to the rest of the guys. So let me say it to you. I'm sorry for the way I snuck up on you all. I didn't know how else to reach you. I didn't mean to push you over some edge. I swear."

"She's still here because she belongs here," Karnival added. "She's proven it, or started to, anyway, just like we all had to start somewhere with each other. And I'd like to think you're here because you belong here, too. But if you have a problem with Delaina, that's something that's gotta be dealt with …"

Pierce stopped Karnival with an upraised gauntlet. "If you say she's on the team, I'm not arguing that."

"And you, Pierce?" Hangfire asked. "You still on the team?"

"Yes," Pierce answered with absolute certainty. "Sojourn, apology accepted. Everyone else, I apologize for my behavior."

"Just … why, Pierce?" Valence asked. "Tell us what gave you the screaming meemies so we make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Chalk it up to a lifetime serving inside the intelligence community," Pierce answered gravely. "Too many secrets, too many double-crosses and hidden agendas. Major Force came gunning for us specifically and we don't know why. Valence is making deals behind our backs …"

"I came clean about the whole thing!" Valence protested.

"Eventually," Ember muttered.

"… and we still don't know exactly what kind of deal he made," Pierce continued, unfazed. "Even the set-up by the Atomic Skull doesn't make much sense looking at the big picture. Being followed unknown, being ambushed and framed … brings back a lot of ghosts. Thought I was rid of them. Apparently not."

"So what now?" More asked.

"Move on," Pierce answered. "To answer your question more completely, Ember, I'm not pissed that the team made decisions in my absence. The whole reason I left was so the team could continue to exist, including making decisions. If I had stayed, I would have slashed and burned through everything we've built looking for answers."

"Where did you go, anyway?" Karnival asked.

"Stayed with Enigma. He says hello. Where do you think I got the boron control helmet?"

"Shoulda known," Hangfire nodded.

"What I am pissed about," Pierce went on, "is that we're no closer to knowing anything now than when I left. In fact there's even more questions. But all we can do is move on and start trying to put the pieces together. I don't like being in the dark or having my strings pulled. I don't intend to let things stay that way for long. We're going to get to the bottom of what the hell is going on."

A trilling vibration sounded from the communications console at that moment, and the main screen flashed to life. The CLOTI avatar appeared, its brow knitted and teeth clenched in a surly scowl. "Web phone, boss. You wanna take it?"

"Uh, sure, Clotty," Ember answered. The scarlet droplet minimized itself to a small icon in the corner of the screen, and the web phone program opened. The image of the caller on the other end was a face the members of Bad Blood had not seen in months. An older gentleman, with jet black hair slicked back against his skull, and a full black mustache that stretched across his upper lip and traced elegantly down the sides of his chin as well.

"Janissary?" Valence asked with surprise.

"Greetings, gentlemen," Janissary answered pleasantly. "And lady," he added, inclining his head toward Sojourn. "I thought you might appreciate some assistance in getting to the bottom of what the hell is going on."

"You all know this guy, huh?" Sojourn asked quietly.

"Long story," More confirmed.

"How exactly are you supposed to help us sort out the CF our lives have become?" Hangfire asked dubiously.

"Mr. Chancellor, as always, I am but your humble servant," Janissary replied with a smile. "Information is a commodity which I possess in abundance, and I would be remiss not to share it with you."

"Why now?" Pierce asked.

"Other matters have demanded my attention of late," Janissary explained, "and yet I realize I never properly thanked you for your efficacious handling of the Kobra matter. It is my hope to repay you now, as they say, better late than never."

"Well, we're listening," Karnival said, crossing his arms and drumming his finger bones against one of his biceps. A gray beard began to grow rapidly from his sharp jawbone, and soon covered the upper half of his torso. "And we're not getting any younger."

"Of course, Mr. Baird. Let us begin with the matter of Major Force," Janissary said, like a long-tenured college professor beginning a new term. "The former Sergeant Zmeck was dispatched as an operative of the Department of Extranormal Operations, his mission objective to draw you out in order that his superiors might gather first-hand intelligence about Bad Blood."

"And did they?" Ember inquired. "Do we need to have Clotty infect their mainframe with a viral bomb?"

"Hey, you want somebody infected, save it for your personal life, man," the artificial intelligence program responded belligerently.

"The DEO was successful in compiling an in-depth file," Janissary continued, "which is primarily of tactical value. In essence, it details what you can do and how you do it, no more. If I may, I would suggest that you leave the situation as it is. At the moment the DEO feels secure, having researched and quantified Bad Blood. Any disruption of that feeling of security would have severe repercussions."

"So we don't bother them, they don't bother us," More rephrased the assessment.

"Precisely," Janissary agreed. "The DEO simply abhors the unknown. Now that you have been catalogued, they need take no action against you. Zmeck may bear a grudge, but his legal status will be questionable for some time to come. Now, as to Mr. Fenris's dealings with the Barter creature …"

"What about it?" Valence demanded defensively.

"You should know that the situation has similarly run its course," Janissary finished mildly.

"No riddles, Janissary," Pierce barked. "Don't have the time or the patience right now."

"Of course," Janissary nodded deferentially. "Allow me to elaborate. Last year, when Mr. Fenris offered Barter a favor in exchange for the power battery, Barter accepted the favor immediately. Barter was, at the time, in possession of a centuries-old spirit, a sorcerer called Neroxis. Neroxis had amassed much arcane knowledge and necromantic power, yet in so doing weakened his own connection to the physical world. Neroxis became a disembodied mystical force, unable to inhabit or act upon the realm of the living until a willing host became available. Neroxis had offered Barter certain mystical compensation in exchange for such a host."

"So what does this fairy tale have to do with me?" Valence asked.

"Patience, Mr. Fenris," Janissary urged. "Barter knew you would never consent to be bonded with a malevolent spirit such as Neroxis. But Barter also knew a living being could act as a carrier for Neroxis without being bound. That was the favor Barter accepted from you, Mr. Fenris. You became a carrier for Neroxis's spirit. You carried the necromancer out of the pawn shop, and you carried him to Chechnya, where Neroxis recognized an opportunity to bond with the soldier known as Protocol."

"Protocol was dead when we left Groznyy," Pierce scoffed.

"Uh, yeah, Pierce, there's still a couple things we need to talk about that went down while you were gone," Ember put in.

"Nearly dead," Janissary corrected the Checkmate Knight. "Neroxis's magics saved Protocol's life, and made him more than willing to become a physical vessel for the sorcerer. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, granting each what they most desired: a second chance for revenge for Protocol, and a reconnection with the physical world for Neroxis. But as I said at the outset, the situation has run its course. Mr. Fenris paid his debt to Barter by transporting Neroxis to Protocol. Little did any of the players suspect that Miss Teague would make Neroxis's stay in our realm so brief."

"Hey, it was him or us," Sojourn shrugged as her teammates glanced back at her.

"Fine, a done deal, so what about the Atomic Skull?" Valence redirected the conversation.

"I am afraid I have yet to reach any definitive conclusions in that matter," Janissary admitted.

"Hold it," Pierce commanded. "Protocol is still alive? And the team had contact with him, is that what you're saying? Where is he now?"

"Well, that's hard to say …" More scratched his head.

"Not anymore," Janissary interjected. "You asked why I chose this moment to contact you with information. I will confess that, in part, it was because I hoped to set your minds more at ease, and help you to put the past behind you, before you face your next challenge."

"Which would be what?" Hangfire asked with chagrin.

"You would do well to turn on GNN," Janissary replied. "Good luck." With that, the streaming signal of Janissary's face vanished.

"All right, Clotty, bring up the news," Karnival said.

The main screen filled with an aerial shot of fire consuming two buildings, and the voiceover was saying "- pair of explosions which rocked the manufacturing district of Hub City minutes ago. It is believed unlikely that the explosions were accidental, due to both their magnitude and the close timing of the two separate blasts. Speculations have arisen that this may have been an attention getting device for the delivery of this message." Police helicopters crossed beneath the news chopper, and large spotlights shone on the asphalt of an empty lot between the two blazing structures. The GNN camera zoomed in. Painted in fluorescent green letters several yards high, the asphalt bore the words: BB - COME PARTY - LF

"Is this for real?" Valence wondered aloud. "Is LocoForce actually calling us out?"

"All the way out to Hub City, apparently," Ember confirmed.

"Which is too far for Valence's magnetic flight to get us there in time," Pierce concluded. "We do still have the aircraft Janissary provided us, right, Hangfire?"

"Check," Hangfire answered.

"Let's get it ready for takeoff then."

Twenty minutes later, the sleek, technologically advanced craft rose from the canopy of the Louisiana swamp and rocketed to high altitude to cross the miles to Hub City. The sun was setting over the Mississippi delta as the roar of the ship's engines faded into the dusk. And in the gathering gloom around the moss-draped Riverboat, tiny coal-black eyes glittered rapaciously, and small but sinister fangs gleamed in the dying light.

Hangfire landed the ship in an abandoned train yard near the manufacturing district of Hub City. Night had fallen, and the buildings flanking LocoForce's invitation still burned a garish orange against the blue-black sky. The members of Bad Blood exited their craft and proceeded on foot toward their destination.

The old factories had almost completely burned themselves out by the time Bad Blood approached the site. The buildings had not been used in decades, and were mostly empty inside. Now they were falling in on themselves as the floors and walls within were reduced to crumbling cinders. The danger from the fires was minimal, but the threat in the area was as palpable as the heat radiating from the factories' ashes.

"Yeah, so I know I'm new at this but … what, we just wait out here in the open for the bad guys?" Sojourn asked.

"Don't worry, we won't …" Pierce began, but was quickly cut off as a length of industrial chain wrapped itself around his neck. Pierce clenched both hands around the chain instinctively, as he was yanked forward by a sudden snap at the other end. Waiting there was Protocol, who drove a fist into the Pierce's faceplate with such force that the armored hero's helmet was the first thing to strike the asphalt.

"I think he was going to say, 'We won't have to wait long for them'," Karnival posited, as Bayonet flew into sight, firelight glinting off his metallic wings, and Silencer and Loki approached from the northeast and northwest corners of the vacant lot, and the behemoth forms of Minotaur and Genocide strode into view from opposite sides, and Headhunter appeared at the gate through which Bad Blood had entered the lot.

TO BE CONTINUED…!!!

MESSAGES WRITTEN IN BLOOD ...

Send e-mail correspondence to badblood51@hotmail.com

NEXT ISSUE: Finally! Bad Blood versus LocoForce, featuring the rematch of Protocol and Pierce! You do not want to miss this! In one short week you can pull a chair up to the computer, BUT YOU'LL ONLY NEED THE EDGE!