The back doors of Hangfire's black conversion van swung open; with the van lying on its side on St. Roch Avenue in New Orleans, one door clanged against the asphalt of the street while the other was held open by More. Sojourn clambered under her teammate's muscular arm and out of the van. More followed her, allowing the door to fall shut behind him.

Traffic had come to a halt around the scene of the accident, and Sojourn stood in the middle street. "Jesus, More, what's wrong with them?" she demanded, here eyes wide and unable to turn away from the overturned vehicle that contained the convulsing forms of the rest of Bad Blood.

"Don't know, darlin'," More answered.

"Well what do we do?"

More slowly shook his large, bald head. "Guess you and I aren't exactly the plan-makers on the team, huh? But we're all we've got. Uhhh … you go check on the folks in the SUV that rear-ended us. I'll … see if I can get the rest of the guys out of the van and call for help."

Sojourn nodded and moved toward the SUV, which appeared to have only minimal damage to its front fender. Before she could reach the vehicle, the driver's door opened and a petite, olive-skinned woman slid out from behind the recently-deployed airbag. "Are you hurt, ma'am?" Sojourn asked as she neared the driver.

"I was wearing my seatbelt," the woman answered prissily. "What about y'all, are y'all right? I'm sorry I hit you but your van swerved so suddenly *…" The woman trailed off as she glanced past Sojourn's shoulder, taking in the sight of a four hundred pound muscleman in a blue singlet carrying a man in red and white body armor to the curb.
(* last issue - DWG)

Before Sojourn could respond, a startled cry from More caused her to whirl around. Horrified, Sojourn watched as the tumor-like growth on Pierce's neck, which had swollen enough to tilt the Checkmate knight's helmet askew, began to increase its size at an exponential rate. In the seconds it took More to gently lower Pierce to the sidewalk, the mutating flesh expanded from the size of a football to an undulating glob nearly as big as Pierce himself. Pierce's body was wracked with violent spasms until, suddenly, the man-sized amoeboid detached itself from Pierce's neck and the hero's body went completely slack. As if the energy had been transferred to the shapeless mass of flesh beside him, the quivering sac of organic matter began to thrash on the sidewalk like an electrocuted worm.

"No, ma'am," Sojourn said softly, as Hangfire's van began to rock violently with (Sojourn could only assume) the barely contained tremors of four more six-foot long fleshy abominations, "I'd say most of us are not all right at all."

The side of the van facing skyward exploded in gouts of flames and sickly green energy. Sojourn grabbed the shoulders of the SUV driver and pulled her to the ground as shards of metal slashed through the air in all directions. With panicked screams of bystanders filling her ears, Sojourn began to hope that Ember and Valence had regained consciousness and were fighting against the grotesqueries in the van. She rolled off the petite woman and onto her back to look toward the van, only to see a pair of amoeboids emerging from the gutted vehicle's interior, one glowing red and licked with small flames, the other crackling with pale verdant electricity. Two more flesh-blobs joined the first two, crawling out of the wreckage, down the undercarriage and onto the street. All four reared up into quivering columns of organic mass, and began to take on more humanoid characteristics. Pale pseudopods solidified into arms and legs, and lumps atop the columns shaped themselves into heads.

A mechanized keening pierced the chaotic noises of the scene, and one of the electronic devices that had been retrieved from Titano's crate flew out of the wrecked van, apparently under its own power. The tumor-creatures grew to resemble human form more and more, the flesh almost seeming to calcify, going from pink to pale white as it acquired stable form. Then the hovering electronic drone began to fly in tight spirals around the body of the leftmost body standing beside the van, sweeping upward from the feet to the head faster than Sojourn's eyes could follow. When the drone moved on to the next body, the first creature had been clad in skintight gray, with dull purple, yellow and green tassles. The head now resembled a human skull, albeit with too many angular planes, and a jagged fissure running diagonally across the top.

"Oh this is wrong," Sojourn heard More growl nearby.

The drone moved on to the third creature, leaving the second body dressed in a deep gray and dark green bodysuit. The third creature was outfitted in muddy brown fatigues and black bandoliers; guns had appeared in its hands and a gray half mask was tied around its chalk-white head. The fourth creature soon emerged from the blurry cyclone of the drone's movement, dressed in dark orange. Finally the drone zipped toward the fully-formed body that had detached itself from Pierce's neck. After a high-speed series of sweeping orbits, the drone retreated, revealing the gray and maroon armor and helmet it had seemingly created from thin air.

"We am back!" the Pierce doppelganger crowed.

The five imperfect duplicates of the members of Bad Blood looked around the street, their eyes bulging grotesquely from faces that seemed hewn from rough quartz, their heads turning in jerky movements. After the cracked voice of the clone of Pierce had finished ringing out, an eerie silence had fallen across the street, as the clones took in their surroundings, an occasional twitch causing one of them to make an involuntary fist or another to take a half-step forward. From her vantage point on the ground, Sojourn could see the newly-spawned creatures casting their unblinking gazes in all directions, as well as her teammate More, slowly backing away from the assembly of clones.

Sojourn realized she had been holding her breath, as the blast of a car horn startled the captive air from her lungs. The mechanical bleat came from some distance back on the road, too far away for the driver to see what had brought both directions of St. Roch to a standstill. Any drivers close to the scene were held in a frozen awe; some had stepped out of their cars, others remained behind the wheel, but none were moving or taking their eyes from the wrecked van and the monstrosities which had emerged from it. But farther away, where no cause of the traffic jam could be seen, patience wore thin. The first horn was soon joined by others, sharp staccato barks and long, plaintive bellows in a cacophonous chorus.

The clone wearing a darker version of Valence's costume was the first to react. "Too much traffic! Me clear the roads!" the Bizarro-Valence announced, rising off the ground in a wobbly arc. He pointed both hands at a nearby gray pickup truck. His pale white fingers splayed, and the truck flipped off the street, recoiling from a barrage of magnetic energy. The Bizarro-Valence turned in mid-air toward another car. Its occupants bolted from the front seats, screaming, just before their dark blue sedan flew gracelessly away from the street, crashing into a nearby building.

Now all of the Bad Blood clones seemed galvanized into action. "This town UGLY!" the Bizarro-Karnival sneered. "Me make it PRETTY!" The jagged-skulled creature staggered away from the crippled cargo van, swiping bony hands through the air. In an instant the streets appeared to run with yellow-green slime, while the sky darkened to a bruised purple color. All along the walls of the buildings lining the street, legions of giant deformed demons skittered like enraged insects.

More leapt to the sidewalk, wrapping his fingers around the streetlamp the van had careened into minutes ago. He hefted the black iron shaft overhead and threw it at the Bizarro-Valence. The streetlamp sliced through the air in a whirling blur, but bounced harmlessly off the sheath of electromagnetic energy encasing the oblivious clone.

Sojourn felt a dagger of ice slide through her spine as she shifted out of the physical realm and into the spirit world as fast as she could. Once she was completely immersed in that mystical plane, she screamed for help. She screamed to no one in particular; she screamed to the city, to the entire world. We need some back-up, I don't care who, Sojourn thought to herself. But somebody's gotta come help us deal with these freakazoids.

With the veils of the material world lifted from her eyes, Sojourn could see the spirits of the few drivers, passengers and passers-by who had not yet fled the scene. They pulsed and glowed with varying intensities of light in a spectrum of colors. She recognized More, his own anima a strident yellow-white. She spied Pierce on the sidewalk, and Karnival, Hangfire, Valence and Ember inside the van, all of them flickering feebly, weak but alive. And Sojourn was able to identify the clones of her teammates, as well, if only by the fact that she had never seen any spirits like theirs before. They were clearly unnatural, darkly iridescent voids in the gray mists of the spirit plane, swallowing light rather than giving it off. The clones possessed the energies of life, but no connection to life's deepest sources. Sojourn knew instinctively that she was utterly unprepared to deal with them.

More searched frantically for any blunt, heavy object not made of metal which he could lob at the Bizarro-Valence. Finally he shrugged and dug his fingers under the concrete of the sidewalk. He strained to tear the three-foot square from the ground.

As he worked the concrete square loose, another magnetic shove from the Bizarro-Valence sent a red convertible skidding across the intersection. The car, containing three college co-eds crying with hysterical fear, came to rest near the Bizarro-Ember. The clone turned its craggy countenance on the vehicle with bored interest which was quickly replaced with raw hostility. "GRRRRaagghh!!! Me hate women!!!" the Bizarro-Ember bellowed. The clone slammed its fiery fists into the hood of the car, and the red paint cracked and blistered to black as the clone's hands sank through melting metal. The heat spread quickly though the body of the convertible, and soon the upholstery began to smolder and smoke. Still, the three girls within the car were paralyzed with fear.

"No!" Sojourn cried, materializing just behind the Bizarro-Ember. She carried a heavy gray blanket, retrieved from the back of Hangfire's van, and used the thick cloth as a shield between herself and clone's superheated body in order to tackle him. The young heroine and the imperfect duplicate fell to the ground together in a clumsy heap, but Sojourn was able to remain atop the clone while keeping its pale, searing flesh under the gray blanket. Through handfuls of rough material, Sojourn grabbed the Bizarro-Ember's head and slammed it repeatedly into the asphalt, until the clone lay still.

Suddenly, in near-perfect unison, the Bizarros snapped to attention as if a switch in their heads had been thrown. A moment earlier the clone of Valence had been content to float lazily above the street, while Karnival's doppelganger idly painted insane illusions across the horizon and the skewed copies of Hangfire and Pierce staggered about aimlessly. Now, all four of the remaining clones were focused intently on Sojourn. The Bizarro-Karnival, Bizarro-Hangfire and Bizarro-Pierce began to advance slowly and methodically on Sojourn. Crackling with energy, the Bizarro-Valence re-oriented himself in mid-air to divebomb Sojourn.

Sojourn raised her arms as if to shield herself from the rapidly approaching clone, knowing it was a futile gesture, as a flying slab of concrete smashed into the Bizarro-Valence's side, knocking the clone off course and unconscious. More crossed the street in a powerful bound and placed himself between Sojourn and the three other clones.

"Thanks for the save," Sojourn shuddered.

"Any time," More nodded. "Any suggestions for my next move?"

"Are you kidding?" Sojourn asked. "Take out the Karnival wannabe before he turns your brain inside out."

"Yeah, good call." More lunged forward and grabbed the Bizarro-Karnival by the front of its bodysuit. More lifted the clone off the ground with one hand, drew back his other fist and then hammered his knuckles into the clone's asymmetrical jaw. Bone chips flew in a spray through the air as the Bizarro-Karnival went limp, and the chaotic illusions cast over St. Roch street began to fade away.

By then the Bizarro-Hangfire and Bizarro-Pierce were nearly on top of More. The clones attacked with deft coordination, as the Bizarro-Hangfire rushed More from the left, while the Bizarro-Pierce feinted to the same side before spinning toward the right. Caught off balance, More found himself pinned between the two clones, each one grappling for leverage against their much larger opponent's upper body. The duplicate Pierce quickly twisted More's right arm behind his back. The clone of Hangfire hooked More's left wrist under one arm and leveled a gun at More's head.

Sojourn clawed at the Bizarro-Hangfire's gun hand, and received the crack of a pistol-butt against her temple, sending her reeling. The clone then trained the weapon on More's brow once again, and fired. More twisted his head and the bullet grazed the side of his skull. As blood began to course down the side of his face, More flexed his right arm, swinging it around to bring the Bizarro-Pierce crashing into the Bizarro-Hangfire.

The Bizarro-Hangfire lost its gun, but neither clone lost its grip on More's limbs. The clones shifted their respective holds, the Hangfire doppelganger focusing on the fingers of More's left hand while the artificial Pierce zeroed in on More's right elbow. More sank to his knees while fighting back the urge to howl in pain as agony suffused his upper body. The clones relentlessly worked the pressure points in More's arms, twisting joints until it seemed the strongman's notoriously resilient bones would shatter.

Two sharp cracks split the air, as the upper half of each clone's head exploded outward in showers of calcified confetti. The Bizarro-Hangfire and Bizarro-Pierce fell to the ground lifelessly, and More found himself face to face with Hangfire, breathing raggedly and barely able to hold himself upright, a smoking gun in each hand.

"Think I bagged my limit," Hangfire exhaled heavily. "Let's get the hell outta here."

"All right, let's go over what we know so far," Karnival began.

Bad Blood stood around a small lounge in the AXIOMech Laboratories building, joined by Dr. Samuel Hartley. Four hours earlier the team had arrived and located the office of Hangfire's old army buddy, and set him to the task of analyzing the devices retrieved from Titano's crate. Now that Dr. Hartley had shared his findings with them, Bad Blood was trying to make sense of the information.

"We know that the technology in those devices is more advanced than anything created on Earth," Ember said. "So I think it's safe to assume that it wasn't created on Earth."

"Unfortunately that doesn't really narrow it down," Valence pointed out. "Galaxy's got more bad guys than good out there."

"But how many of them would target us specifically?" More asked.

"Are we even sure we were specifically targeted?" Pierce rejoined.

"I'd say yes," Karnival said. "The devices were delivered, along with Titano, practically to our doorstep. Not to mention the fact that the devices were ready to provide costumes and equipment for clones of us specifically."

"I still don't get why some of us were cloned and some weren't," Sojourn shook her head. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Think I might have that answer," Pierce stated. "Reviewed the data feed in my visor sensors. Only five of us were hit by the kryptonite radiation - you were intangible and More was picked up and tossed away by hand."

"Don't remind me," More said, gingerly touching his head. A gauze bandage had been applied to the side of his scalp where the Bizarro-Hangfire had grazed him with a bullet, an injury which had only added to the pain which the colossal primate had inflicted on his skull.

"But since when does kryptonite cause people to grow tumors … or clones … or clone-tumors?" Ember asked, his voice skeptical.

"It doesn't," Dr. Hartley interjected. "I had a colleague analyze the fragments of the artificial lifeforms you brought in. The genetic material had an activation code attuned to the properties of kryptonite radiation, in addition to somewhat flawed copies of your own DNA, as well as seed nucleotides which were found in trace amounts on the devices …"

"OK, now my head hurts," Valence sighed.

Dr. Hartley smiled. "From what you've told me, I'd say that you were all exposed to trace amounts of a self-replicating biological agent. Probably when you entered the crate that Titano arrived at the docks in. The agent bonded to those of you who had a kryptonite radiation signature, which started the growth process. The agent utilized your DNA as a blueprint, and the clones were the result."

"Fine," Hangfire nodded. "So there's an extraterrestrial intelligence gunning for us, for reasons unknown. And all we know about this alien is that it has enough technological resources to mess around with bio-weapons."

"Well, that, and the fact that whoever it is, they seem to have some kind of Superman fixation," Valence pointed out.

"Which is almost as weird as having a Green Lantern fixation," Ember scoffed.

"Get bent," Valence retorted. "But seriously, guys, isn't it a little bit weird? Of all the ways our mystery alien could have tricked us into getting close to the cloning agent and exposing us to kryptonite radiation, he boxed up Titano and shipped him to New Orleans? For that matter, of all the kinds of radiation that could have triggered the cloning, why kryptonite? And the clones basically ended up looking like Bizarro, the original Superman clone."

"Don't forget the Atomic Skull a couple months back**," Karnival added. "Showed up out of nowhere, specifically to draw us out, and he's fought Supes before and was last held at STAR Labs in Metropolis."
(** As seen here at FDC in Bad Blood #19 - DWG)

"So, what are we saying?" Sojourn asked. "One of Superman's alien enemies has decided to switch and become our enemy?"

"Doesn't quite sound right," Pierce acknowledged. "Still, the Superman connection is undeniable, and that gives us Metropolis as at least a starting point for investigation. Better see if Clotty can look into it."

Pierce left the room in order to contact the Cross-Linked Omnifunction Terabyte Interface, the artificial intelligence that ran Bad Blood's computer network at the Riverboat. The rest of the team tried to relax around the lounge. Sojourn and Ember sat on opposite ends of a small, pleather-covered couch. Hangfire leaned tiredly against the wall. "Can you tell me where I might find a vending machine around here, Doc?" More asked.

"Sure," Dr. Hartley answered, bemused. "Out this door, turn left, last door on the right is a stairwell and there's a vending machine inside that door on the landing." More grinned and left the lounge.

"Seriously, Sam," Hangfire said, "Thanks for all your help. It's been a weird day and …"

A red glow suddenly appeared in mid-air near the far corner of the lounge. The glow expanded to a flat disc, over six feet in diameter, and three figures emerged. The first was a man with longish sandy hair and a few days of stubble on his cheeks, wearing a leather bomber jacket over a t-shirt, blue jeans, and biker boots. The second was a slender blond woman in a midnight blue bodysuit crisscrossed by white holsters and bandoliers and topped by a padded white vest. The third was a man wearing a thin, silvery exoskeleton like a second skin, covered in a deep maroon hood and cloak. As the third figure emerged, the glowing red portal shrank behind him and disappeared.

"Enigma!" Valence said happily, crossing the room to shake his former teammate's hand.

"Vic Wagner," Karnival said to the man in the leather jacket. "Been a while***."
(*** Bad Blood #4 - DWG)

"And you are ...?" Ember asked the blond woman, as he stood up from the couch and took her hand like a courtesan. Sojourn rolled her eyes.

"She's the Vigilante," Pierce announced as he re-entered the lounge.

"One of them, anyway," the woman smiled at Ember. "Pat Trayce."

"You seem to be taking this particular weirdness in stride," Dr. Hartley said to Hangfire in a low voice.

"What, old friends showing up out of nowhere?" Hangfire asked in response. "Yeah, we get that a lot."

"Why are you here?" Pierce asked.

"Not that we're not all happy to see you," Valence hastily added.

In answer, Vigilante strode across the room and put her arms around Pierce's waist in an overtly intimate embrace. "Come on, Titano and Bizarros all in the same day? Obviously we're here to help you … put this one to bed," she purred.

"OK, now that does not happen every day," Hangfire admitted.

More appeared in the doorway of the lounge with a bag of chocolate chip cookies that seemed ridiculously small as it dangled between his massive thumb and forefinger. "Hey, Enigma, what's up?" More asked happily. He held out the foil bag. "Cookie?"

Skimming above the rolling whitecaps traversing the surface of the Gulf of Mexico, the members of Bad Blood and their companions flew southward. Valence and Ember cut through the air under their own power. Between them ran an experimental watercraft on loan from AXIOMech Laboratories, whereKarnival, More, Hangfire, Sojourn, Pierce, Vigilante, Enigma and Vic Wagner stood near the bow. The vessel was a Coast Guard prototype intended for rescue missions conducted during the worst possible storms, but at the moment its sleek hull was propelled not by the four aft engines, but by Valence's magnetic control, which kept the boat steady and smooth in its progress a few feet above the surface of the water.

"It looks pretty clear out here, boss," More commented, surveying the empty blue-green expanse of the Gulf. They had left behind the coastal oil rigs and fishing boats some time before.

"Unsurprising," Enigma answered, without looking up from a handheld GPS device. "Clotty was able to detect several points of cyber-intrusion in Metropolis computer systems, including STAR Labs, the Daily Planet and LexCorp. Given the unearthly nature of the mastermind behind the attacks, and similarly alien characteristics of the computer invasions, it was easy to trace back to a point of origin. Specifically, an abandoned Kord Industries fiber optic data cable running close to the Sigsbee Deep. Assuming an interstellar aggressor of some kind, the responsible party is presumably operating in very close proximity to the hacked cable itself."

"You lost me there, buddy," Hangfire admitted.

"He means that the bad guy's spaceship is underwater," Pierce said. "Parked on top of a phone line."

"So how are we supposed to reach it?" Sojourn asked.

"In this boat," Wagner suggested. "With a couple of mystical enhancements."

Sojourn cocked a curious eyebrow, but said nothing.

Karnival sidled up to Pierce. "Hey," he began.

"Did you think that I didn't talk to anyone the whole month that I was away from New Orleans?" the erstwhile Checkmate knight asked brusquely.

"Huh? What, you mean ... you and Pat?" Karnival asked. "Please." He held a skeletal hand out to the side and an illusory window appeared in midair, complete with a windowshade that Karnival proceeded to pull down to the sill. "You two crazy kids can do whatever you like in your private lives. I wasn't going to bring it up at all."

"What, then?" Pierce asked.

"If Clotty was following the tracks of this alien all through these computer networks, does that mean that Clotty hacked into the same places?"

"Presumably," Pierce nodded his helmet.

"Including LexCorp?"

"Yes."

"Does that make you ... nervous?" Karnival asked, the spectral flames that emanated from the fissure in his demonic skull flaring.

Enigma waved to signal for Valence and Ember to stop, and the boat came to rest on the gently rolling surface of the Gulf. "No time to be nervous now," Pierce said.

"So this is the place?" Vigilante asked.

"It should be," Enigma confirmed. "A few hundred meters straight down we'll discover the entry point into the data cable, and from there we should be able to ..."

Before Enigma could finish his thought, the placid waters around the small boat erupted. Four objects shot through the surface and into the air. Each one was a glassy globe filled with an undulating yellow-green light which took the form of cell-like structures constantly rolling around and shifting within. Four curving, metallic horns rose from the top of each of the flying spheres, and four serrated metallic pincers descended from the underside.

"I hate it when they're ready for us," Ember said, the flames wreathing his body accelerating in their race across his skin.

The flying globes attacked without warning and without hesitation. One shot at Valence and swiftly clamped its jagged robotic mandibles around him, pinning his arms to his side. Valence struggled, his green electromagnetic halo crackling madly around him, but his efforts had little effect.

The other three drones swooped over the prow of the small boat, targeting Pierce, Karnival and Hangfire. Hangfire unholstered two handguns and opened fire, only to see the bullets ricochet off the globes harmlessly. Pierce sent a volley of sonic energy from his gauntlets at his pursuer, again producing no visible results. Both men were soon held fast in the drones' pincers.

Karnival shifted into his two-dimensional form and slid across the deck, causing the drone to fly through the air where he had been a moment before. The automaton quickly corrected its course. A charge of energy built up between the tips of its four crowning horns and fired at Karnival's flattened image. The alien energies coruscated up and down the illusionist and caused him to involuntarily revert to solid form. The drone scooped up its quarry, and along with its three companions rocketed underwater.

"Where are they going?" Sojourn demanded.

"Back to the mothership," More guessed.

"Well, we gotta follow them!" Ember insisted, alighting on the deck of the boat and dousing his corona of flame. "Come on, magic man, make with the spell that'll let us dive in this thing."

"Right, right," Wagner agreed, taking a deep, steadying breath. He lowered himself to his knees and began to trace arcane symbols on the deck with his fingers.

"How long is this going to take?" Vigilante asked.

Once again the waves exploded as more drones came to the surface of the Gulf. A dozen quickly surrounded the boat, hovering in mid air, sharp and gleaming mandibles opening and closing hungrily. A dozen more followed, and another dozen, and another.

"Longer than we've got," Enigma observed.

TO BE CONTINUED...!!!

MESSAGES WRITTEN IN BLOOD ...

Send e-mail correspondence to badblood51@hotmail.com

It has been quite a while since I last posted an issue of Bad Blood. That is partly due to lots of other time commitments in my life taking me away from fanfic for a bit, but it's also because of something terrible that happened about a year and a half ago. I'm referring, of course, to Hurricane Katrina.

When the real life city of New Orleans was devastated by natural disaster, it seemed weird to me to keep on going with the adventures of Bad Blood, hailing as they do from the Big Easy. But ultimately, as New Orleans began to rebuild, I decided that abandoning Bad Blood was not what I wanted to do.

You won't see any references to Katrina or Rita in this storyline, or future ones. Comic books have the luxury of occupying their own reality, and I don't know how I could incorporate the tragedies of those hurricanes without cheapening them unforgivably.

What I can do, however, is remind you, my super-cool readers, that the people of New Orleans are still struggling and still need help. I'm not going to get all preachy on you, but if you would like to reach out, here's a handy link: MercyCorps. Thanks.

Moving on to the actual letters in this here letter column ... here's one from my good buddy BrenCrow:

I'm really quite glad I read a year's worth of Bad Blood now, rather than having to wait weeks or months in between issues. The story is constantly building atop of what's already there, and yet each individual issue is strong on its own. The prose alone has this classic eloquence with some nice modern crispness. The characters are a lot of fun, and incredibly distinct, especially for creator-owned characters. Pierce was starting to worry me at first with his ability to do almost anything, but his character is so compelling that I can't help but be fascinated.

Bren, if you're out there - get in touch with me! I know you wrote that letter over a year ago, and I've managed to lose track of you since. Heck, if anyone knows where BrenCrow is these days, let me know.

NEXT ISSUE: Finally … the milestone you've been waiting for … ISSUE #25!!!!! The mysterious villain revealed, the team and their allies in peril, and surprise guest stars! DO! NOT! MISS! IT!