Legends & Legacies

 Clutching at the elegantly designed platinum rose pendent that had once belonged to her mother, but now loosely dangled from a gold chain strung around her neck, Angelique LeBeau discernibly expressed her indignation for her father's most recent ideal. "After what he's done....what he DID!!!...How could you even fathom such an alliance?" she scorned. Yet the ever dispassionate Cajun showed no visible sign of emotion as he continued to face the master sized mirror while fastening his lavish cufflinks. With his back turned towards his lethal offspring he responded, "Desperate times call for...well, you know dee cliche chere." he smirked. "Dee World is falling apart. Civil War, France under dee rule of dat simpleton and his Tenebrasque In, Heroes overreacting in dee face of chaos and thus, abusing their roles as protectors. Dhere are opportunities here my girl, vast history changing opportunities and I will not miss dee chance to seize dhem. As we speak dee winged Death Dealer is setting events in motion dat will no doubt change dee game. An alliance of legends, an association of legacies, a contingent of unmitigated greatness. The foundation of this union will be stronger dhen any before it. We will be dee Pillars dat restore dee balance."

His feet touched down on top of a high building near the coast. The wind blew his hair slightly as he made his way across the roof top observation deck to a pool open to the high night sky. There he saw a man swimming laps at a relaxing pace. When the man got to the end of the pool he slowly waded out, flushing the water from his ear before being handed a towel by a dark haired beauty in a sleek one piece bathing suit and high heels. The man, obviously in top conditioning dried off as he made his way across the pool deck over to where Hawk stood.

His hand extended and a smile broke across his face when their eyes met, “Hawk so glad to see you. Welcome to my home.” Shaking his hand Hawk did not meet his smile. “It would seem that crime does pay after all Gambler.”

The men exchanged small talk while smoking cigars under the moonlight. The beauty that Gambler only referred to as Bella’, floated around quickly but without much notice bringing them drinks and predicting Gambler’s every need.

Finally the men got down to business moving into the interior of Gambler’s mansion. “There are several of what I’ll call “my kind” that are not paying their proper respects towards their elder statesmen. These men and women need to be dealt with. Of course, I being the leader of many, cannot simply rid myself of these men while I am seeking political power. As you can see for the time being, I am just a servant of the people.

“So that is where you would like me to come in….?” Hawk asked with an obvious sarcasm. A smile crossed Gambler’s face.

24 Hours Later

“I hear you are looking for me.”  His voice spoke out like leader giving a speech, every time Hawk heard it. “I have something for you.” Holding up a envelope Hawk handed it over toward Kurrent with just his two fingers. Snap! An electric charge jumped across the space between their hands shocking Hawk. “Every time! Damn it!”  Kurrent apologized though it was clear in his tone that he could have cared less. “What is this list? Names, locations…..where did you get this?” Kurrent studied the list thoroughly looking over and over the names. “I don’t understand what is going on Hawk….?”

“Someone has become annoyed with the attention these men and women have been getting; they need to be dealt with.”

 "So you are telling me that you, me and The Cajun are supposed to right all the wrongs to set things straight again" he said to Hawk. Before the Winged killer could answer Kurrent put his hand up stopping him from speaking...."Strangely this makes sense to me, I can see the logic in this. We police our own and if they get out of line we put them back in it, it is almost crazy enough to work but I gotta tell you...." Stopping him before the obvious remark Kurrent was going to make Hawk said..."we are all at an understanding, the benefits of us working together out weigh the differences that any of us may have, at least for now". 
 
The Electric Ace could feel his body temperature start to rise but something inside him said this was a good idea. Keeping your enemies close and saving the world from itself , morally this was a mess but tactically this was a checkmate. With his eyes glowing bright blue sparks could be seen, he gritted his teeth and spoke through them as if he couldn't believe himself for saying what he was about to say. He looked Hawk directly in the eyes and said  "Set up the meet then" 
 
Hours later the three men meet up in small field out in the mid west. No one was around except for the three of them. Hawk and Kurrent were both there and didn't say much except for a few simple pleasantries. The last to show was Gambler and Kurrent was doing his best to not attack. The three men stood in a circle facing each other. Each with the power to destroy the other but none dared make the first move, the idea of them working together, being Pillars of a new world order was too intriguing .  

BLAM… BLAM… BLAM…

Three lead bullets nailed the target. One in the head, another in the heart and the third one in the crotch. The echoes of the recently fired shots still reverberated in the massive dark shooting range while Risky took the protectors off. Like the cries of fallen soldiers the sounds became ever more silent before they disappeared off into infinity.

Six months since she had received her new… spare parts and still she had not gotten used to them. They worked excellently, as good as her original arm and eye, the scientists even said better, but still they were not… her. The Apocalypse-nanites in her bloodstream had been of almost no consequence, she did not feel them but those new cybernetic limbs…

It was not the constant data feed in her eye, she had already learned to use that to her advantage. It was not the enhanced strength of her right arm, she had already adjusted to that. No, it was the strange feeling in the morning when the metallic parts actually felt colder than the rest of her body. When they had not worked up and reached working temperature. When she noticed that they were metallic and artificial. Risky hated everything artificial and would not have spoiled her body with that willingly. She did not even wear ear rings.

How…

The voice of Hawk, her team mate, her companion on the battle field, her friend, ripped her out of her thoughts.

“How about a beer?”

Smiling he came out of the shadows of the doorframe in which he had stood for only god knew how long. In one of his big hands he carried a six pack while he turned a bit sideways for his grey angelic wings to fit through the door. Returning that smile Risky only nodded and tugged the gun away. Metal. Strange how good it feels in your hands and how weird it feels in your body…

With used motions she plugged the beer can Hawk threw at her out of air in a blurring motion and opened it before toasting towards him. For a few moments they stood their in company of each other in the darkness before Hawk spoke up.

“Tastes good, right?”

Risky only nodded and enjoyed the cool taste of the golden liquid in her mouth.

“Like in the good old times. You know how it was to sit on the veranda with your dad and to have a beer? When everything was still alright?”

“I did not use to have beers with my father, Hawk. He was too busy saving the US from people like me. Should have guessed you were not only here to bring me a beer. What do you have in mind, Winged Wonder?”

For a moment he remained silent. Took a deep breath and sighed deeply before continuing .

“Look at the world, Risky. It’s a goddamn mess… People don’t feel safe anymore because nobody knows his place anymore, neutrals run amok, heroes become bully-police and villains get more and more disgusting in their actions, they’re all forgetting about the codex that once used to keep this world running.”

“And what you gonna do about it? Slap them on the fingers and tell ‘em they’re bad boys and girls?”

“Exactly that.”

For a moment there was silence between them, Risky could read in the avian hero’s eyes that he was serious. There WAS something and he had high hopes for it. With a waving gesture of her hand she urged him to tell more.

“There is… a new organization. We call us The Pillars. So far there are three of us. The plan is to keep a balance. To keep all those people around in check. All of them. They break the rules and we break them. Exactly your kind of work.”

“Yeah, a sweet carrot but where's the stick?”

“The people we are working with. So far it is me, Kurrent and… Gambler.”

The shock hit her hard and let her gasp for air. It was as if the floor had been pulled from beneath her feet. How could he do something like that? From her first day in the strange community of superheroes Gambler had been her number one target. The man who had caused the Civil War, the Initiative, everything that went wrong. How could he even consider her to join a team with him? Before she could utter any complaints Hawkalready responded as if he had read her mind.

“I know your problems with him but think… We need him. His connections, his abilities, his way to deal with his own, his reputation, his money and a million other things. You don’t like him, fine! Then use him! Let him do your dirty work. At least as long as we need to set things right again. After that we can still see.”

Full of anger Risky lowered her head and concentrated on the floor. The rage burned hot and red within her but she could not deny the logic of Hawk’s arguments. DAMN! Why did he have to be right? There was really something going the wrong way in this country and that way she had a chance to deal with it. Deal with the devil? Maybe. At least she had Kurrent and Hawk at her side. To sooth herself she reached for the old shotgun of her father at her hip. The wooden hilt felt warm and comforting in her hand, helped her to reconcile herself with the idea. Still looking at the bottom, raven strands of her hair falling into her eyes and shadowing her face even more, she answered.

"This might not end well....his family is in there." He was nervous, he was never nervous. "I think luck is on our side tonight." She answered back trying to calm his nerves. He was a family man, So the act that they were about to preform made him physically ill to his stomach. Taking a couple deep breaths he pulled the black mask down over his face and spoke slowly. "Light'em up!" With that she pulled the tigger.  

The calm night errupted with the sounds of gunfire as she shot over and over through the windows of a little house. Glass and brick exploded under the weight of her gun. He could see a large man scrambling through his house franticly pulling a small woman through the hallway with him and into what could only be their small childs room. Bullets followed closely behind them as they ran quickly down the hall.  

He walked closer and closer towards the house bullets flying over and around his head with incredible accuracy. Making his way to the front door he turned the door knob only to find it locked. A single bullet exploded the lock while his hand was still on the knob, sometimes she was too good. Hawk quietly pushed the door open to see a large man huddled over his family, doing everything in his power to guard them with his own body. Hawk slowly rose his hand and the gunfire stopped.  

The explosions of bullets was replaced by the sound of a son screaming. The large man's head turned seeing a masked figure standing in his door way. It didn't take long for him to charge the masked figure. His hands were lit with a green flame and his eyes glowed with hate and revenge. A fist was thrown but the firey man was out matched and ended up on the ground bleeding. Hawk glanced over to his wife and child and had to shake his head to keep tears from forming in his eyes as he spoke.  

"How old is he?" Hawk asked the young mother hushing her child and rocking him back and forth. "10..10 months" she sobbed out. "What a precious age...enjoy it, cause it won't last." The mother pulled the young boy a little bit closer as she rocked him and Hawk made his way slowly to the boys father. Picking up the man by the scruf of the neck, he spoke to him clearly looking into his eyes.  

"You are not hero, You are not a cop, your only resposibility is to your wife and your son. If I so much as here you do anything outside protecting your family and your neighborhood, I'll tell her not to miss!" As he spoke Risky watched from nearly a mile away. Reading his lips she knew it was time to make her point clear and squeezed the tigger slowly one more time. The bullet traveled reaching the speed of sound, the wind pushing it this way and that, the moisture in the air, gravitational pull and the rotation of the Earth all figured into her calculations. Or did she just close her eyes, all the same two seconds later the bullet made it's impact leaving a hole in the family picture above the mantle.....right through the wife's head.  He left the family holding each other in tears. ".....and so it begins."

Paris, France - The Musee du Louvre

Paris, France - The Musee du Louvre

 There were not many things Michelle Marie DeLa St. Croix was afraid of. For example ever failing in her job. She had a deep, subconscious and totally irrational fear of bees. More abstract phobias like fear of the dark, of being alone, of enclosed spaces were not hers. She had been trained as an assassin all of her life and fear was not an assassin’s business.

Today she was scared to her death.

As she scurried through the almost destroyed ruins of her once beautiful villa that humming hunted her. Her fear carried her over the marble tiles in an unbelievable speed spurred on by the torturous sound that continued to beat her eardrums. Still she could not believe it.

Her bodyguards were dead. She disarmed. One of the best assassins in the world and that had happened to her. When those two maniacs had come over her home she had thought she could handle them. She could not have been farer from the truth. They were like a warped force of nature. The destruction they had caused was without equal.

While Michelle Marie DeLa St. Croix was definitely not happy Risky was in a good mood as she hummingly strode through the generous halls of the old St. Croix family estate and created a dry “clock” sound every time she knocked her sawed-off double-barrelled shotgun against every wooden doorframe on her way. The moonlight shone through the broken windows and holes in the walls and cast its silvery light onto the whole scenery making it some magic wonderland under the mist of gunpowder and the smell of cordite. Her impious little merc smile ™ showed on her face during her hunt. She loved it whenever a plan worked. And this one worked perfectly. First a lot of action and now the thrill of the hunt.

Michelle skittered around the next corner only to freeze in terror. Her fashionable shoes made squeeking sounds trying to change the direction, her perfectly trained butt nearly touched the ground, her grip around the corner tightened. When she had been a kid her grandmother had told her about man eating giants. She could still hear the heavily French-accent laiden voice of her grandmere how she described them. Big, hulking brutes with a wild mane of black hair and muscular arms strong enough to level mountains. To her shock one stood right before her now. His breath condensed as a steaming cloud in the cold air of the Provence and his front was not more than a black void. The only light on this figure stemmed from the six metal claws extending from his knuckles that reflected the lunar light. A little frightened scream was all that remained of her in this place as she ran the opposite direction. Away from the giant with the claws, away from the crazy woman with the guns, away from the sources of her terror.

Still smiling Risky tipped at her comm. “Little girl’s coming your way, birdman…”

Outside:

High above them, several dozen feet, he soared through the clouds and waited for his part to start. Flying was his thing, the one that mattered above all others. On ground he was Hawk but high in the air he was… a god. Once he let gravity behind him, once that he glided on the air streams nothing else really mattered anymore. Villains, trouble with his wife, the taxes, all that lost meaning once the cool air of the heights met his skin. Not for a single moment had he doubted that this was what he had been born for. Flying. And nothing else. His telescope like bird vision searched the ground and let him feel even more distant. As if just watching. As if…

Risky’s clear voice cut him off from his thoughts. Now it was time for his part. A small adjusting of his wings was enough to transform the peaceful soaring into a breathtaking nosedive. The soft cool wind that had caressed his skin only seconds turned into a storm that whipped it now, stung in his eyes and made his teeth clatter. His superb vision was fixed on one point below. It was wonderful. Faster and faster he became, falling through several layers of clouds in mere seconds, honing his nickname Death From Above. The pressure became greater and ever greater, his target came nearer and nearer till it was the only thing that filled his field of vision. It just needed one short grab and seconds later he was in the air again, holding the kicking and screaming young lady who had just run out of the house in his arms. Impotent she tried to strike him only to learn that it was of no use against his iron grip. Shouting so he would be understood above the thundering of the winds he spoke to her.

“Listen, Michelle. I know who you are. I know what you are capable of and if you think of trying one of your fancy assassin techniques on me you should be aware that we are flying… lets just say: very, very high. I also know what you are not. You are NOT Les Assassins Silencieux. I knew that organization and I am happy that they and their influence are long gone. You will not resurrect them, no matter your lineage and if you are a forgotten bastard daughter of the Cottilards. Today we showed you that there are forces bigger than you in this world, people even more capable, even more cunning. Don’t you ever forgot this.”

Almost hysterically crying Michelle screamed in his face. “I understand. I understand. Just tell me what you want me to do and I will do it.”

Hawk smiled. It was not a pretty smile. There was indeed a thing that he wanted her to do. He wanted her to make his point understood by the people who planned to resurrect LAS with her help, her legitimization.

The next day:

The corpse of the beautiful young socialite Michelle Marie DeLa St. Croix was found on the Champs DeLysse, her limbs smashed and broken, her whole pretty body almost smashed beyond recognition. Obviously her ghastly death was caused by a fall from great heights. The only thing that gave a hint to her cruel fate was a broken seal in her mouth. It was not known to most of the world but a few people and sparked a lot of conspiracy theory exchange all around the globe. But to all those who knew it, it made the point understood. The broken seal was that of Las Assassins Silencieux.

 Outside the distinguished Pere Lachaise Cemetery, a never ending parade of extravagantly expensive luxury cars sat in wait as a sea of black umbrellas flooded the final resting place of some of Frances most notorious and prominent figure heads. Accordingly the weather was overcast with sporadic drizzle adding another layer of depression to an already somber occasion. Michelle Marie DeLa St. Croix, heir to the Cotillard fortune and bastard sister of Esther Cotillard LeBeau, had been brutally murdered. Her ambitious goal for restoring the Cotillard name by fashioning a new, improved, version of the Les Assassins Silenciuex had been shattered, much in the same manner her fragile body had been shattered on the beautiful street of Champs-Elysees. Her entire entourage had been dismantled with no more effort then it took to destroy a kindergarten class full of disabled children. Tactical perfection had been utilized in her assassination which Gambler and his young daughter Angelique had instantly recognized upon their visit days earlier to the hollowed out remains of her Chateau.

Her tragic death marked the end of a dynasty, leaving Angelique the sole remaining member of the Cotillard bloodline. Of course distant relatives all dressed and conducted themselves as if they had legitimate claim to the family legacy, but few recognized any other then Angelique as having authenticity. But none of that mattered as friends and family alike gathered together in the biggest funeral processions in French history. One by one the followed suit, saying a brief farewell before tossing a single crimson rose, the stable of the LaS, on top of her casket. Even Gambler's father, the original LeBeau Legacy, wheelchair, house nurse, portable oxygen tank, and bodyguards alike, made his way through the line to say, or mumble incoherently, goodbye.

With his aging father on one side and his distraught daughter on the other, Gambler sat stoically maintaining his composure. The priest's sermon never scratching the surface of his attention, not even for a moment. Instead the Aristocratic Assassin continued to eliminate the small list of possible suspects. Envisioning  the killer, or killers, and the calculated steps he himself would have taken in order to achieve his goal. Obsessively coming back to one major factor, the unforgiving viciousness of the act. The precision was one thing, but the unmistakable brutality of her body was another. It was a message. Not to Gambler, but to those looking to extend their greed and power. To any would be dictator, assassin, corrupt politician, or killer. This was the fate that awaited you.

As the funeral let out the Living Legend and his family immediately disappeared into the cover of their entourage before being led away to their vehicles. Instantly Angelique lashed out, "FATHER! YOU KNOW WHO DID DIS!" she hissed hysterically. Pulling back the collar of her shirt to reveal the scars of her near fatal encounter with Hunter and the Wolf Pack. "DIS IS WHAT DHEY DO! DHEY HUNT....US!!!!" But Gambler simply turned his head towards the window barely able to be bothered raising his finger to call for a moment of silence. Across the extended back seat between coughs and gasps for air, old man LeBeau motioned for his son's attention calling him close in order to impart his assessment of the situation. As Gambler leaned in his father suddenly and forcefully grabbed the back of his head to pull him even closer. His voice filled with hate and rasp, he choked out few words, "F....amily.. ..my.. .boy,... a m..a.....n's fam.....ily i....s more essentia...l..........to his survival dh..e..n his own b...lood."

Hours Later - North of Dallas Texas:

"Blue Team, all clear." relaid one of several armed guardsmen patrolling the grounds outside the house of Jr. Congressional woman Lady Mani. Wife of notorious mercenary and former Wolf Pack Delta Commander, Hawk. "Check" responded another while pressing two fingers along the barely visible ear piece stationed around his head. "Red Team...Red Team come in?" But there was no response, simply dead air and a quick whisk of wind as something stealthily moved on to its next target. Without warning the quite night irrupted into gunfire. Panic resonating throughout the heavily fortified mansion as the Black Clad Assassin known as Tormenta stylishly ran through the guards. His titanium knives flying from all directions with deadly accuracy and unparalleled proficiency. A gift from Gambler's father, Tormenta had served as the old man's personal assassin/protector. However the recent death of the Cotillard princess had demanded retribution and Jean Luc Sr wanted his son to have every available resource at his disposal. While the Black Mamba effectively dealt with the ladies protection, the King of Kings gracefully slipped inside, determined to leave a message of his own.

When out of nowhere he was surprised by the lady herself as she performed an amazingly acrobatic cartwheel kick. Catching the outside of his forearm as he barely raised it in defense. "Not bad chere, but let me show you my interpretation of dat move" he smirked.

One Hour Later:

"This is Amanda Huggankiss coming to you live outside the home of Congress woman Lady Mani. Where we are being told that at least 23 secret service men have lost their lives, and the Lady Mani, has sustained life threatening injuries. As you can see behind me, the home is in utter ruins. No word on the condition of the children other then they are alive in an undisclosed location. Wait, wait, I see the Chief of Police now. We're gonna try and get a couple words. CHIEF! CHIEF! What exactly happened here? Is the Congresswoman going to survive?" after a small pause, the visually shaken the chief of police began rubbing his forward subtly lifting his cap in the process. "In all my years on the force, I've never seen, hell, I've never even heard of something like this. That woman's back....her legs....I'm, I'm sorry, I cant comment."

Stunned, the seasoned reporter simply stared blankly into the camera before the station went off air. Meanwhile, halfway over the Atlantic Ocean, Gambler sat smugly next to Tormenta while sipping an aged glass of wine. "Sang dedans, de sang ami de lundi dehors" (blood in, blood out mon ami)

The alarm went off flashing lights through out the interior of her house. Immediately the children went to their hiding place, behind the walls in between their rooms. Locked in their hiding places they sobbed quietly in the dark.  

She stalked through her house, slipping off her high heels and pulling her hair slowly into a raven pony tail. With a hit of a few select buttons the lights of the house went out. She moved through the dark kitchen pulling a large butcher knife out of butcher block she turned it over in her hand preparing to strike whoever dared walked into her home.

She moved with cat like agility as she turned the corner coming through the dinning room. Outside she heard the quietness of silence where there should have been a mulitude of guards streaming in. Someone had moved on them quickly to take all of them before any could enter. A shadow draped over the floor coming towards her with a confident pace. With swiftness she leaped onto the dinner room table and spun kicking her foot toward her attacker.  

She landed with an unsatifying feeling. Looking up to face her opponent she saw the face of Legend. Oh how she wish Hawk was here. He spoke, but all she heard was the wind break as his foot crushed her face. Knees buckling she tried to fight back, a quick kick and a jab got her no where but bleeding up against the wall. She slashed with her knife only to have it kicked away and thrown against the wall across the room. She could barely stand as she stumbled her way into her bed room. He stalked her slowly whispering words of regret and misery of a lost loved one, and the disappointment of his father. In the bedroom she dragged herself to Hawk's side of the bed, there she grabbed and pulled at a handle that was hidden in the darkness. Without any strength she could not lift it and that's when his hand met hers. Lifting the handle slowing into the dim light that shined through the window shades he saw it. Hawk's ICE mace.  

When the police arrived they found her shaking on her bed. Vomit lay surrounding her head but she was neatly tucked into her bed sheets. The floral pattern sheets were now a soaked through, and laying next to her on Hawk's pillow was a single crismon rose.    

The news of two very high profile deaths spread very quickly amongst the media as well as the community of supers. Outside looking in they appeared as unfortunate events but given who they were and the people that they were related to it had retaliation written all over it.  It took The Electric Ace a while but he was able to put the pieces together and his hit list would have to take a backseat to what was the beginning of the end of the new found Pillars.  When getting in league with whom he was in this was to be expected. A hit on the heiress was never talked about with the group which raised an eyebrow. 
 
The more Kurrent pondered on it her death could benefit Gambler in many ways. The Collitard fortune is vast and the families reputation is still greatly admired by many. With time he could have molded his daughter the one who had Lebeau and Collitard blood into something even greater then himself and St Croix would have been removed from the equation anyway but on his terms. This was a slap in the face to Gambler and you don't slap Gambler in the face without breaking your hand in the process. 
 
Since Lady Mani was the victim Hawk had to have been the one to take out St Croix. After preforming his own investigation on her death Kurrent could see it was very well planned, he had help. Perhaps The Hunter or Risky, he could only hope that Gambler wasn't as thorough as he which would cause another family member to suffer a fate like Lady Mani's. If Hawk and whoever helped him did this they have to have a reason, maybe it was a bit of revenge from something in the past or maybe something else. Their were too many unanswered questions and Kurrent needed answers the olny thing that was clear was that this vicious circle had to be cut or blood would continue to spill. 
 

France

Lady Mani's Residence

The Flight

Champions City (Five Hours Ago)

Undisclosed Location in France

The scene was a mess when he arrived, there were still ambulances and police officals roaming about. Very few reporters were brave enough to face him as walked towards his front door. The red stain of blood was covering his patio and his door had been kicked in. "Sir are you sure you want to go in there." A young officer tried to stop him at the door. He didn't even hesitate to enter and began to study the area. He didn't get two steps into the house before his daughter came running towards him. Her teddy bear in hand Hawk picked her up noticing blood splatter on her Tinkerbell night dress. His son came running from the chief of polices side and grabbed his leg burying his head into him. Both of them cried loudly as Hawk tried to hush them. Nathan Hawk's son took off at a sprint towards the master bedroom. The chief tried to stop him but was just too slow.  

The blood puddled on the ground and all over the bed. Her body had been moved but it was clear where she lay. Nathan eyes, that usually had a flickering flame in the them, were wildly flaming over. His body began to hover in mid air as his emotions ran out of control. Hawk standing only 5 feet away could feel the heat coming off his body. He had never manifested his mutant abilities before today, he was too young he would not have control.

Around the globe, they heard him call out. His pain and sorrow was felt by every telepath in existance. It was a cry of pain of an Omega Level mutant being born. Back in Texas Hawk stood holding his daughter in the bedroom of his home. He watched his son who upon seeing his mothers blood poured out came into his powers, and what powers he had. The house exploded around them leaving only those in the bedroom standing. A wave of energy blasted out from Nathan and soon rippled through the neighborhood then the city. Everything and everyone in a 15 square mile radius was destroyed except Hawk and his daughter Olivia. Hugging her bear close not even her pony tail moved as thousands lost their lives by her brother's hand. Hawk could see the struggle on his 5 year old son's face as the power surged and over took his body. It was Nathan's scream that got Olivia's attention. Her light blue eyes, that were identical to Mani's, turned toward Nathan and as a tear rolled down her red cheek she held her hand out and spoke in a whisper. "No..."

It was the simpliest of commands, but the 3 year old said it with the command of a god. Nathan body slowly lowered to the ground and his eyes returned to normal. Where they once stood on a barrain cement slab that once was Hawk's bed room, Hawk began to see the piece rise once again. Everything moved slowly until a flash and everything was back to the way it was. Even the single rose on his pillow returned. Olivia swarmed out of Hawk's arms and dashed over to her brother, whos feet now were firmly on the ground. Taking his hand Olivia spoke firmly to her older brother. "Don't scare me Nathan!" In a matter of minutes the two youngest Omega mutants who ever existed were born.

"Capt. Anderson!" His voice instantly sparked a nerve with Hawk. The one who raised him, trained him, the one who made him Weapon X. His timing was more than perfect as usual, he was familar with powerful mutants of all ages. Leaving the children with Major Bell and their nanny Lucy, Hawk left one final instruction. "Make sure Olivia with with Nathan at all times. Everyone's life could depend on it.

He took to the air with brilliant blast. The air exploded around him as he made his way headed East it would take him a little over an hour to make the trip form Texas to France at this speed. His skin peeled away and regrew at an incredible rate and his eyes glowed white as he tucked his wings in tight to his body flying like a falcon on a dive.

He entered the country faster than they could scramble their jets. Flying across the French country side of rolling hills and green meadows Hawk blew past every exterior security like it wasn't even there. The manison came into view, the white columns and prestine look of the house were about to be soiled. Hawk pulled out his mace which still bore the bloody handprint of his wife on the handle and blast through the door like a wrecking ball. Lifting up the stairs Hawk landed on the second story banister and then made his way towards the master bedroom.

Two large men stood in black suits in front of the large double doors that led Hawk towards his goal. The glowing eyes and the large mace of Hawk made the guards shink back away from the doors slowly. Pushing open the double doors Hawk found him sitting in his chair reading a book. "Bonjour, mon ami. Êtes-vous ici pour me tuer?" The old man looked up over his reading glasses before adjusting his blanket. "Votre fils a essayé de tuer ma femme." Hawk spoke as he made his way closer to the old man. "Ah je vois! Eh bien, laissez-nous passer à autre chose."

Hawk stood behind the old man and rolled him out onto his blacony. Hawk spoke quietly in the old man's ear, placing an ancient looking pistol on his lap, before stepping off the second story balcony. "Je sais que vous êtes un homme qui ne manque pas de courage. Je vais donc vous donner une option. Vous pouvez mettre fin à votre propre vie ou les oiseaux faut-il pour vous. Quoi qu'il en soit, vous avez dix minutes. Bonne journée, Monsieur LeBeau."

The balcony started to fill up with black ravens.    

 With hate filled eyes the elderly LeBeau stared at the archaic firearm now resting loosely in his arthritic plagued hands while natures flying rats began to grow impatient. Their numbers continually growing as they swept through the once illustrious Chateau like a biblical plaque of locusts, devouring any, and everything in its path except for the Jean Luc. Instead the mockingly bounced around in anticipation cawing while frantically titling their heads from side to side sizing up the meal to come.

The assassins airway began to seize up as he desperately tried to slow his heart rate. But instead of refreshing gasps of air the panicked geriatric simply inhaled clumps of phlegm causing him to cough spasticlly. Finally catching a moment of clarity, Jean Luc LeBeau Sr gathered what dignity he had left, remembering that his conduct in his final hours would be talked about for years. Swiftly he twirled the antique pistol on his finger while raising it to his temple, the Ravens pausing in silence as Jean Luc made his decision.

Without warning the old man ripped off his oxygen mask before mustering enough strength to unleash a telekinetic wave that vaulted his O2 tank forward while simultaneously firing his single shot with expert marksmanship. As the explosion ripped through the upper levels of the mansion the original Lebeau's charred body was briefly hurled backwards before being totally enveloped in flames. The rest of the Chateu soon crumbled under the weight of its weakened foundation sending a mushroom sized cloud floating upwards into the French skyline. Once again Hawk had one upped the King of Kings. But in their newly developed game of chess, who would have the final play...

The privately owned jet that had flown Tormenta and Gambler over the Atlantic Ocean landed on an airstrip quite near the Chambre De L, the LeBeau's place of residence. It took a few minutes for a staircase to be rolled over to the airplane's only entrance. With the door open, the two well-renown assassins descended onto solid ground. The Black-Clad Assassin observed, through his dark sunglasses, four Venin Rose waiting for their leader and himself. With Gambler's personal bag in his left hand and his own held tightly in his right, the Black Mamba followed the illustrious Living Legend towards the limousine behind the Rose. One of the men politely opened the door to the limousine for Gambler. The Cajun entered quaintly, not in a hurry. As Tormenta passed the Venin Rose, he handed the bags over, "Put these in the trunk, por favor." Then Tormenta filed into the limousine.  

The door closed quickly thereafter.  

The driver, another specialized Venin Rose, looked through the rear-view mirror and spoke. "Mr. LeBeau, there has been a disturbance at the Chateau. We were just notified a few moments ago. Oh, and a man named Kurrent arrived a while ago before this." The Disciple of Deception looked over to the illustrious French mogul with a look of surprise and was met with a solid stare. "Take us dhere immediately," Gambler's calm and collected voice ordered. "Dhis should have been addressed de moment we arrived." 

The driver pressed his foot on the gas and the limousine quickly accelerated towards the Chateau. 

 The Chateau 

Tormenta could see a severe difference in the Chateau from his previous visit. It was much different, halfway decimated. The upper levels of the mansion were gone and for a moment the Black-Clad Assassin felt his gut tighten. Jean Luc LeBeau Sr. frequented and stayed on the upper levels and, with them decimated, the Disciple of Deception could think only one thing. His employer was deceased. He kept his tongue to himself as the limousine entered the grounds of the Chateau and stopped on the rounded driveway. Tormenta opened the door to the limousine before the driver could open his own and the Black Mamba pounced out of the vehicle. He waited a moment for Gambler to exit and then slammed the limousine's door shut.  

"Where shall we go?, " Tormenta inquired approximately forty yards from the Chateau front gate. 

The quick-witted Gambler gave Tormenta an unexpected, fearful look and remarked. "To dhe upper levels of the mansion, of course."  The Living Legend took a step towards the building and then the rest of the Chateau collapsed before their eyes due to a weakened foundation. "Dis is not good," the Cajun muttered. The Black-Clad Assassin reeled in horror at the destruction of his new-found home. In just a few seconds it was deteriorated to dust. A multitude of black birds flocked overhead escaping the loud noises and crashes. In moments the dust had settled and the building's debris piled like a large pyramid. Tormenta walked towards the edge of the debris, the front gate now engulfed in it, and bent down. He sifted through it, trying to grasp the idea that Gambler's all-powerful Chambre De L had just been obliterated. He looked up at his new employer, "Do you think he is dead?" 

Gambler rubbed his chin and watched a small piece of rubble fall down the debris. "Dhere is no tellin', due to de evidence," Gambler pointed to the destroyed Chateau, "but I will assume my father is probably no longer wit us."  

Tormenta strayed his eyes from Gambler, a lone tear rolled down his face. He felt like an adopted son and Jean Luc LeBeau Sr. had become something of a father to him. The loss of the Senior LeBeau affected Tormenta greatly now. He had been working under him for months and felt robbed of a great opportunity to learn and gain immense knowledge from such an important mentor. Tormenta felt like someone scammed, so in the same split second, Tormenta simultaneously rose from the debris and looked at Gambler through his shades. "The person who did this will be, how do you say, exterminados- by my hand."   

The Black-Clad Assassin then took initiative, visibly enraged and with a new purpose. As Tormenta had been told, a man with a purpose will eventually accomplish his goal due to his unrivaled persistence. That simple trait made the Black-Clad Assassin so valuable to any whom were in his regards. "I'll retrieve the guest Kurrent for you sir, " he said."Take this walkie-talkie so we can stay in communication."    

Gambler took the walkie-talkie and waved his assassin away. The Disciple of Deception bowed and slipped away, traversing beside the debris into an alternative entrance for the dungeons below the Chateau. Hopefully it hadn't collapsed also, but Tormenta was already prepared for the worst. As he descended down into the depths of the dungeon, he found in the first cell a lone figure standing impatiently near the entrance. "Finally, I mean the roof is about to collapse and then everybody just leaves me down here."  Tormenta frowned at the bluntness of Kurrent but met the man with a somewhat grin- he still had the unexpected death of LeBeau Sr. on his mind. 

"I am sorry for this inconvenience, but Gambler and I were away on business."  The Disciple of Deception quickly jabbed the lock and it crippled before his expert blow. Then Tormenta opened the gate and allowed Kurrent out. "What about these?"  Kurrent asked impolitely, raising cuffs on his hands.   

"Oh, those,"  Tormenta said,"will have to stay on you until Gambler says to take them off or 'till after your guys' meeting."   

"Fine,"  Kurrent responded. "Fair enough."  The Black-Clad Assassin ushered Kurrent up the staircase and out of the dungeon. As the Disciple of Deception himself reached fresh air, he looked towards the trees. His eyes widened at the sight he beheld. A woman with reddish hair hovered on the outskirts of the property. She saw the glimpse that Tormenta gave her and disappeared into the trees."That mother-"  

"What did you say? " Kurrent asked.  

"Nothing,"  Tormenta shrugged. "Just saw something."  The Black-Clad Assassin hastened his steps to the front of the Chateau and found Gambler hovering around the front. Tormenta rushed to him and, before Kurrent could reach them, spoke. "I saw a red-haired woman on the outskirts of the Chateau. She was watch-"  But before Tormenta could continue Gambler nodded and gave him a gentle push aside. Then the Cajun put on a infamous grin and addressed Kurrent.

"Hello old friend, I'm sorry but dhese are not the best of times."   

Kurrent shook his head and frolicked his arms showing the chains. "Believe me, I know.

Versailles 

 Nonchalantly sweeping his foot back and forth Gambler sifted through the burned down remains of the once prominent Chateau as he walked alongside his oldest living enemy, the Electric Ace. Following closely behind Tormenta focused his attention elsewhere as he monitored their surroundings methodically tracking the slightest movement. Like Gambler, Tormenta had complete control over his emotions in the face of the recent devastation, despite having been in the service of the deceased legacy.

With a mxiture of animosity, hatred, and mutual respect, the tension in the air was culpable as the Living Legend and the Master of Electrocution attempted to defuse the current situation. "I know you to be an honorable man Kurrent. A man who believes strongly in his convictions, which is why I can say with a certain level of confidence dat you had nothing to do with dee recent events dat have seemingly befallen myself as well as my family. We all entered dis.....arrangement with eyes wide open. But it has become undeniably clear dat an underlying agenda has surfaced. Your visit hear was in no doubt going to be an attempt to salvage what little trust remained between dee Pillars, no?" the Cajun briefly pausing as he overturned a smoldering piece of debris to reveal the charred remains of a once illustrious self-portrait of his mother. "But as you can see, I think dat dream is no longer an obtainable feat."

Even Kurrent knew that to much had happened. Originally the idea of the solidifying a bond between some of the most notorious, all be it, hated enemies, seemed enticing. It was business. However to much blood had been spilled, lines had been crossed. To say it wasn't personal would be a lie. It was as personal as it could possible get. The sudden vibration of the Cajun's phone temporarily disrupted the pairs conversation. "Of course. I'll be there." lowering his head for a moment before giving a subtle hand gesture to Tormenta, who instantly knew what the King of Kings was requesting, he turned to face Kurrent. "I'm sorry, but I have another pressing matter I need to attend to. But please, feel free to tag along mon ami" he smirked as Tormenta, piloting an all black CIA model helicopter, landed several yards away in wait.

Later - Arras, France:
The trio cautiously entered the 16th century Gothic style town hall, Hotel-de Ville. Its Flemish molded architecture like no other in the region, its grandeur befitting the French stereotype of overindulgence. Instantly they were greeted at the oversized double oak front doors by armed guards. Dressed in crimson garb their rose imprinted bands with embroidered LaS symbols left little doubt as to their identity. Once inside the doors slammed close suddenly before the group was surrounded by overwhelming odds. Instinctively the martial arts masters effortlessly slid themselves back to back, should to shoulder. As they took up a defensive stance an illuminating overhead light descended upon them. From up in front of the hall in the cover of drakness a thunderous voice resonated forth. *Jean Luc LeBeau. You are hereby charged with being the worthless son of a deplorable cowardice traitor. For fathering an abomination that you dare position above the rightful heirs to the Cotillard dynasty. For being a arrogant obsessive who's actions have long since gone unpunished.*
{*translated from French}

Starting out with a slight head nod followed by a light chuckle, Gambler looked towards the sky while flashing his trademark Cheshire Cat grin before responding. "You Cotillards never did understand dee meaning of loyalty. My father was a hero! But dhen history is often written by those who have hanged patriots. I need no lecture from a distant relation so far removed from prominence their bloodline could sooner be traced to a family of goat herders dhen it could to dee Cotillards." the Cajun's remarks drawing out a small grin from Kurrent. * Your tongue is as sharp as any sword LeBeau, however today the Cotillards take back what was rightfully theirs. Kill them, kill them all.
{*translated}
 

A crosshair like the one Risky currently used on her favourite scope on top of her favourite sniper rifle made it even worse. Those were the moments when she felt as emotionless as her cybernetic finger that lay around the especially weighted carbon trigger. Humans were not even interesting objects to be watched anymore, they became something entirely different. There was a word for it, as cold, as smooth as the precise scope itself: Targets.

The target on her scope right now was a special man. Francòis Emile Cotillard, distant cousin to Esther Cotillard LeBeau and kind of prodigious child of his side line of the family. Even through the crosshair could see that he did not only possess the well known handsomeness of the Cotillards as well as their unique and excellent flair of style. Italian silk, leather   and cloth, Monaccese gold, Swiss silver combined with his well grown features to make him into a figure that turned heads wherever he walked but discouraged everyone seeking trouble with his aura of authority. He was not one to fight. Sure, he did have his training, was not even bad but by his family he had been groomed to be something else. He was their most trusted courier.

Able to take care of himself he nevertheless carried shadowy bodyguards like dogs carried flies. Head lifted in pure arrogance he walked through the shady back alleys of Paris to deliver messages that could not be easily told over the phone. In this special case he looked like a parrot striding through rat invested sewers. Certainly the papers in his fashionable Armani business suitcase were worth the lives of hundreds of people. Hundreds. Risky would not want to pay those costs.

But she was more than willing to pay with the lives of his bodyguards. For the last hour she had taken out one of his bodyguards after the other. Six body guards. Five bullets. Oh man, how much she loved her powers. Now that he was half on track to his destination she would strike. With a smile she pulled the trigger.

She knew all those little details. How the hammer hit the bullet, how the black powder ignited and caused a mini explosion that built up the pressure that was needed to expel the bullet from the barrel with several mach speed but those scientific facts could never describe how it felt to experience what it meant to shoot a .357 Magnum bullet from a military sniper rifle. The shock went through her arm and reverberated in her guts. A welcome, comfortable, almost arousing feeling when the vibrations wandered through her.

Francòis never knew what hit him.

Only seconds later Risky had already teleported next to him and had severed the hand to which the suitcase was connected over the way of shiny adamantium handcuffs. Blood spilled but before the first drop had hit the ground Risky was already at some other point, a mere ghost in the whole scene. All that she left behind were thirteen dead people.

Thirteen. Definitely not a lucky number.

A bit later:

It had not needed much to open the secured suitcase and evade the poisonous needles installed to further secure the important freight. Curious like a child on Christmas Eve she slowly opened the lit to see what present the Cotillards had made her. Evidence? An assassination contract maybe? Bank account data maybe? Whatever it was, if it was sensible enough to be given in the trusted hands of Francòis Emile Cotillard it was definitely useworthy.

“F…”

Her laughter echoed through the whole old secret Wolf Pack bunker. If anybody had been here with her he would have thought the female merc to be mad. Louder and louder her happy laughter grew till she had to hold her belly to ease the pain. More than she could have ever dreamed of. An assassination order. For Jean Luc LeBeau, the great Gambler himself. Not as the assassin but as the assassinated. Risky could not help. Irony was such a sweet thing. Looked as if the famous Cajun had finally met his deserved fate. She was almost sad she had killed Francòis and his cronies. Almost. But what was that at the bottom? A side note?

“The hero known as Kurrent, currently our prisoner, will be most likely found in company of that traitor and has to be deal with accordingly.”

Risky paled instantly. Bad, bad, baaad news. Hastily she informed Hawk over his pager and teleported to the location mentioned in the order. About half a mile away from the old estate in Arras. The party was already beginning. Savely lodged in a tree Risky fired her first shot only seconds after she had materialized. As much as she wanted to shoot at Gambler she had to suppress that urge at the moment. The Crafty Cajun stood back to back with the Most Electrifying Man. Temporarily they seemed to be allied. No time to think about that now. Focus. Hold breath. Aim. Shoot. Even before the first bullet had hit the first assassin the second was on its way already. She just hoped it would be enough…

The phone silently buzzed and the Living Legend motioned for Tormenta to move out. The Disciple of Deception immediately dissipated from the area, leaving the Electric Ace and Cajun to their own devices. With a few rapid, elegant strides Tormenta found himself in a hanger at the edge of the Chateau. It was a small helipad housed within an equivalent of a one story home. As he entered the hanger, he flipped a switch near the entrance and artificial lights along the walls immediately began glowing; the roof itself separated to reveal the sky. The fresh air extinguished the smell of oil and sweat that had gone into working on the CIA modeled helicopter- it was perfected to be an exact copy. 
 
The Black-Clad Assassin passed his outstretched hand over the slick black-painted exterior. It was a true beauty. Opening the pilot's door, he hoped inside and flipped a multitude of switches. It took only a few moments for the engines, primarily the rotors, to begin to warm up. That was when the Black-Clad Assassin became a savvy airman. He put on a helmet and headset instantly and then grabbed the cyclic. He pushed it upwards with little effort, but the effect was massive. The helicopter dipped forward and lifted from the helipad without error. As it hovered over the Chateau's helicopter building, Tormenta immediately shoved it forward. 
 
It glided through the air as the Black-Clad Assassin searched for a proper landing area. Coming across a small clearing, just ahead of Gambler and Kurrent, he immediately descended. By the time the two famous enemies turned business partners came to the small clearing in which he had landed, Tormenta was glaring at them through his dark shades observing their conversation. They both proceeded to the helicopter and entered. 
 
"The headsets help a whole lot," the Disciple of Deception remarked just as the sound of the helicopter began to raise. 
 

Arras, France

She stood next to her bike on the road looking into the shadows. There he stood hands behind his back leaning against a tall oak tree. Wearing just a light tshirt and jeans he had the appearance of a man in his early thirties with a shaved bald head, though inside he had seen all of the wars. It wouldn't be evident of his abilities until he stepped into the light. She talked to him with the filth that was English. He never bothered to learn the langage, but he knew her meaning. Yes he was going to kill her, no there was nothing she could do to stop it.  
 
He walked slowly towards her passing in and out of the light as he waked through the wood lined road. As he walked the light passed over his face, she must have known he was not just a trained assassin, green smoke trailed his eyes like they were on fire. In japan the sight of his eyes meant a certain death,  竜 の を見詰める "The Dragon's Stare" it had come to be known in the early 10th century, as is still mentioned in hushed tones today.  
 
As he walked towards her, he shed his tshirt revealing his heavily tattooed body and pulled a sword with a snake for a handle. The dragon's teeth were about to bite. She moved quickly first drawing her pistol. Round after round was fired at him, yet he only waved his hand slightly in front of his body. Without ever breaking stride he tossed aside the bullets he had caught in his hand. She put her guns away and turned to her blades, she was about to be taught by a more than a thousand year old master.

A new age was unfolding once again,and like a phoenix  it would rise from ashes of demise. Through the many power struggles this world was more fragile then a newborn baby,its vital life blood had been drained by all alliances  and sides. Clutch had weaved through the chaos masterfully as his father had always taught him too and played his cards in the games of kings well enough to become the sole dark horse savior of the collapsing system. Recently The Phantom was contacted by the last of his family,an assassin who held a good portion of the tattered  globe . A single word was embedded in a electronic  message that Clutch had received,its significance was evident as soon it was read and now Yamato would soon return to the fray as a chaos weaver and balance keeper .
 
Arras,France:
Hotel de-ville was an all too familiar venue for the Cyber Shinobi,and now his plans and allegiance had once again shifted for some idea of peace...peace that would never be obtained in this life. Clutch stood several feet above the surrounding buildings near the extravagant hotel already up to date on the current situation at hand,his palms clutched on the twin katanas crossed on his back. Already the battle of elite slayers had begun inside,his comrades and former rivals pressed on with ferocity of a swift disaster. Clutch would join in soon but for now he would only watch with vigilance and wait for fates to be decided,hoping to play the card only when needed. He contemplated silently as events unfolded...
 
The death toll continues  to rise as my uncle pursues his goal,and now he has enlisted the help of heroes. Though they knownothing if they think Jean has not already planned thier demise. Clutch smiled at that thought then quickly left his vantage point in a blur of white. His destination unknown.

 Two bullets were fired from a distance. The first hit an assassin dead on causing him to instantly hit the ground while the second which by it's trajectory looked like it was meant  for one of the Pillars was haulted by Kurrent's electrokenisis. It was difficult to stop the bullet moving so fast, he would not have be able to do that to the first but the second and a third if there was one would have been all his to control.  Taking in a deep breath he began to focus. Even the sound of the bullet that he stopped with his powers hitting the floor could not break his concentration. The people in the room trying to kill him, the appearance  of Hawk,  the smell of blood were all put on aside for a brief moment. In his mind he heard the sound of falling dominoes and another sound he could not quite put his finger on. At that time he came out of his trance knowing the electrical signature of the shooter, looking only at Gambler but saying it loud enough so that Hawk can hear he said...."Risky is near by"
 
It was hard to believe that Kurrent was in the situation he was in at that time. Not the part about being surrounded by assassins but the fact the he, Gambler and Tormenta were on the same side.  The Collitards in the room were not ones that he knew of. As far as he knew Risky and Hawk had killed the last. With the angry and dangerous Collitards surrounding them The Electric Ace quickly thought back to what Gambler had said that made him grin and the words he had chosen. 
 
Although Kurrent found a strange humor when the odds were against him he knew he had to decipher what Gambler was saying...and fast. It had to have been a code that Gambler wanted Kurrent to crack. In his speech he used the words history,  hero and patriot a nod to Andferne perhaps. He also said goat herder which stood out to Kurrent as Gambler was too dignified to use a term so common.  Then tensions grew and it seemed that everyone was waiting for the next to make a move, Kurrent knew he had to act fast when it suddenly dawned on him. In the battle between Gambler and Andferne the north end of the Flamingo went down. He looked to his left to notice a flamingo was placed atop of a side table near him.  That did not coincide with the decor of the room but only one that was looking would notice. This place this room that Gambler had lead them into, The Cajun had to have been here before this must be a safe have for him and it would be ready for anything.
 
 In the back of his mind the word goat herder was plaguing him what did he mean  he thought....that's it he said in his head after a few seconds, Beowald  the blind goat herder from the story "The Secret of Killimooin" a book that Gamblers father used to read to him as a child.  In a moment of need Kurrent's obsession to know his enemy and not miss any detail would pay off. In his head he thought sorry Hawk.....and he quickly pulled out one of his guns shooting the flamingo off of the side table where it stood. Quickly shutting his eyes he assumed Gambler had done the same and yelled "TORMENTA EYES!!!!" Suddenly a large painfully blinding light engulfed the room. The sound of people and weapons hitting the ground alike were heard in succession and Kurrent reaching for Gambler grabbed his arm saying.."get us the hell out of here Cajun"

The flash was blinding and he stumbled back a couple of feet trying to regain his barings. His eyes were ringing and it was almost more than he could bare. He knew he was surrounded by assassins, but where did Gambler, Kurrent, and the other one go? It was an utter state of confusion. Trying to shake his head to clear out the spots, Hawk squeezed his eyes together trying to just see again. He knew it was a race, the first to open their eyes, lives.

Through the scope

The green glow of the room lit on fire with a blinding light. She could see Kurrent move with several other out of the room, Hawk was not with them. A table was knocked over in the other corner of the room and there he was stumbling around the room. Several of the other assassins were making it to their feet, Hawk would be slaughter in a matter of minutes. With a smile Risky fired her last shot. Jump She teleported into the room standing behind a stumbling assassin, with a kick to the knee Risky made him fall forward just in time for his head to be in the path of her last bullet. Blood painted the wall where she stood but she was gone. Jump She jumped from one to another the whole world moving like it was in a strobe light. Risky pulling her throwing knives out whipped them across the room one after another. Jump Grabbing an asian looking fellow from behind she Jump Placed him right in front of the first blade. His body didn’t even hit the floor before Jump she kicked the second on against the wall right behind where the asian fell. The second and third blades pieced his wrist crucifying him to the wall.

Jump Wrapping a piano wire around the neck of a redheaded female assassin, Risky lept out of the window taking the redhead with her, Jump. Risky was back in the room and landed on top of a looked to be a giant of a man. Sitting on his shoulders she wrapped her legs around this giant in an triangle and leaned back as hard as she could. The giant’s eyes began to bulge and face was turning a dark red before he fell over on top of Jump her. Leaning against the table where Hawk was still trying to gain his composure Risky spun her knife on her finger like a basketball. Hawk looked around the room as his eyes cleared up and back over to Risky. “Nice work.” He said pointing to the man hanging by her knives on the wall.

“I have some questions for you” Hawk spoke to the man on the wall. “I’ll never talk to you!” He spat back at Hawk and Risky. She wasted no time throwing her knife right at the man’s chest. He yelled as it came flying at him, Jump only to have her catch it inches away from his heart. “She won’t catch it everytime…..I think she just go lucky.” The man sung like a bird, telling about the family and what their next move would be. Risky threw her knife once again. Jump She missed. “Take me to the hospital, Risky” Jump

 By the time the distinctive whistle of the high caliber bullet could be processed by any within ear shot, two members of the Cotillard faction lay sprawled out along the imported Italian marble. Almost instantaneously yet another assassin hit the unforgiving floor as the winged archangel cut through him with surgical like precision before peering back over his shoulder, "We are not finished." His hate filled statement carrying across the hall to its intended target. During the chaotic confrontation no one had noticed that the Cajun had yet to take up arms against his would be assailants, instead, he was seemingly at ease with simply avoiding their attacks utilizing his superior ability and superhuman reflexes.

Meanwhile Tormenta displayed his artistry of combat as well as his martial arts aptitude as he squared off against some of the LaS' genetically altered executioners. Technique mixed with theatrical acrobatics made the Black Clad Assassin one of the most dynamic martial artists in the World. Equally as skilled, Kurrent had not only honed his hand to hand skills to the heights of evolution, but had sharpened his mind to be equally as formidable. Quickly breaking down the hidden symbolism within the Cajun's cryptic banter moments earlier. Like a modern day desperado the Electric Ace reached across his waist un-holstering his firearm, cocked it, and fired in one motion shattering the flamboyant statue on the far side of the room releasing a blinding light. Instantly disorienting the opposition.

"GET US THE HELL OUT OF HERE CAJUN!" roared the icon, forcefully grabbing the Aristocrat Assassin's arm. "Dis way." responded Gambler, tugging his arm away in disdain. Pushing bast the debris of weapons and confused bodies the trio ducked behind a secret passageway in the wall before descending downwards. "Follow dee stairs. Dhey will lead you back out to dee streets." smirked the Cajun as he stepped back closing the wall behind Kurrent and Tormenta. "CAJUN!!!" Kurrent began to yell as the wall was sealed shut. But it was to late, Gambler had disappeared back within the Hotel-de Ville. Aided by an oil soaked torch he made his way through several elegantly crafted catacombs before being greeted by a hooded stranger. "You have played your part masterfully." Gambler remarked. *Thank you Mr. LeBeau. But I must admit, I do not understand all the deception. If you wish the Cotillards dead why not simply kill them yourself?*
{*translated from French}

"Tis simple. Dhere irradiation must not be traced back to me if I am to sway dee Cotillard loyalists to my side once dis is over. It must appear as if I have done everything in my power to protect them. By orchestrating my own assassination I have all but assured dat dee Pillars will systematically erase dee Cotillards. And dhen, when dee time is right, I shall lay dee blame at their doorstep and use the public outcry to once again regain my position of dominance."

 The blade slit right through her arteria. At first she did not understand it, just felt something wet running down her throat. Reflexively she reached for it, felt the fluid soak her gloves and noticed the red on her hands. This was not the first time her hands were covered with blood. Nothing unusual. Man, women, children, all had shed their life fluid by her actions. She was already used to it, it felt almost unreal not to have her hands dipped in blood. Only this time it was hers as her already degenerating mind finally told her. Panickally her hands tried to hold back the crimson flood but to no avail. More and more of the precious liquid ran through her fingers and dripped to the ground. A thundering stream. And then it dawned to her: She would die.

She dropped dead to the branch she had been sitting on with her sniper rifle before she even had the chance to utter a few last famous words. A young, promising life already wasted with killing met the deserved fate. Who lives by the sword shall die by the sword. Her beautiful blue eyes   were fixed on a point somewhere in eternity.

After eliminating the last one of the assassins sent to set up the trap at Lady Mani’s hospital Risky cleaned her good old combat knife and sheathed it again. In one single moment the blade changed from wet red to clear silvery steel again, a metaphor of her own life. A constant change of normal civilian life and violent military bloodshed. Was that her fate? Would she ever have a family like Hawk in there? Would she even want to?

Being sure she had made short work of all those assassins she sat down beside her latest victim and took a cigarette out of her vest pocket.

“Hope you don’t mind, girl...”

Lighting the cigarette and making herself comfortably between the branches and roots like a squirrel her eyes automatically wandered to the window of the private hospital. There he stood, that giant of a man with the big feathery wings that made him look almost angelic. To many he was an angel, swooping down from heaven to save them from horrible danger and save the day. Risky knew another side of that “angel”. She had seen how he had cut terrorists and assassins during a bomb dive, how he had picked up murderers and had let them fall from several hundred meters after which they squished on the ground like tomatoes, how he had broken men’s necks with bare hands and far more sinister things that rather reminded her of an avenging angel instead of a guardian.

Today she got to know another side of the man she had ever respected as a fellow member of Wolf Pack and later on The Pillars. His whole posture as he stood before that bed his wife now lay in spoke of his insecurity, his strong hands hung loosely at his side and still they were steadily moving betraying his inner unrest.

Lady Mani on her part just lay there, so small and vulnerable in this bed, her usually clear and bright intelligent eyes clouded by pain, sorrow and the painkillers the doctors had given her. Risky could barely stand looking at her. She had met Mani several times during official galas and other events that had not really interested her but that were Mani’s natural preying ground. Never being one to cling frightfully to her husband’s side she had swarmed around and done Wolf Pack’s PR taking shit from no one while Risky, Hunter and Hawk had wasted themselves on the buffet. Where earlier the room had not looked big enough to contain her colourful personality she nearly disappeared in the white sheets sunken in to the point where she was hardly visible anymore.

As he stood with his back towards her, fully in trust that she had taken care of the assassins like they had agreed upon before this little trip, she could not see his mouth moving but his neck muscles moved clearly indicating that he was speaking. Doubtingly, shakingly he reached out his arm towards her unsure if he was allowed to approach her. It were only a few steps to her bed but it could be thousands of mile as well that separated them.

Lady Mani answered. And regretted it the same moment. Her lovely face contorted in pain and for Risky it was obvious that she sucked in the air sharply. Hawk made a few quick steps to be at her side but a moment before he could grasp her hand to accompany her in pain she lifted her hand and froze exactly where he stood. If this was the power that she controlled or just the sway that women hold over all men was not clear to Risky. But it sure as hell stopped him more effectively than a solid wall could ever have hoped to. There he stood, between heaven and hell, love and hate, live and death, in the eternal twilight and was not sure what to do. His whole body spoke of his conflict, the clenched fists, the tightened muscles on arms, legs, neck and back, the one foot behind the other ready to make the next step yet not able to.

Mani’s   face was a mask. Even for Risky it was not clear if it was a mask of hate, pain, hurting love or even indifference. It was something that just he as her husband could read.

Like Hawk’s way over to his wife Risky’s stolen cigarette was half finished.

He spoke again. Long and passionate. The interested viewer in the tree behind the window could only guess what he said. His gestures were few and spare conveying the gravity of his words to be too great to be spoiled by such theatrical minor details. He made several pauses to regain breath, to make sure he chose the right words for the woman he had once loved so much and maybe still did. A single tear rose to her eye when Risky remembered when she had last seen such a display of concern.

 Lady Mani’s reply shook her to the core. She did not even answer. Instead a single diamond clear tear ran down her pale face and she silently shook her head. It was a slow, painful motion. Painful for the performer. Painful for the onlooker. Painful for the one it was destined for. It was a motion in bullet time, slow, deliberate, full of physical and emotional pain. Lots of glowing ash from Risky’s cigarette fell down from the tree to die in the darkness below before Mani had finished this move.

To Hawk this was all the answer that was needed. Suddenly his shoulders hung, his feathers all pointed downwards. A decision was made and it frustrated Risky she did not know which one. With ever growing frustration she watched how Hawk powerlessly touched the cool hand of his wife once more before he exited through the door. Smiling a bitter smile Risky turned around towards the young woman she just had killed.

“Love is a bitch, isn’t it?”

Sometimes she wondered about her own morbidity. Maybe she had to see Dr. Steel once more. At least she had one thing to really smile about. Originally Hawk had been assumed by his enemies to blow up and take his wife with him the moment he entered through the door. A simple explosive charge should have taken care of that. Risky had foreseen that and disarmed it. She had even done more. She had made a short visit to France to place the same bomb under Gambler’s obscenely expensive car that stood before his house in France. She did not really hope to kill a professional like him with this but who knows, maybe she was lucky. Maybe it even got one of his servants like Tormenta. And if not the bomb was not traceable to her since it had a nice big Las symbol on it for they wanted everyone who killed Hawk. The message was clear: Do not kill our own lest we kill you.

Trying to gain strength from that simple practical prank she teleported next to Hawk who now stood melancholically infront of the hospital. For some reason it seemed not appropriate to address him by his super name so she just asked:

Paris, France

She lay in bed getting weaker and weaker as he sat in a chair in a dark corner of the room watching her die ever so slowly. Her children played quietly at the end of the hospital bed, trying to keep their spirits up. Doctors and nurse came in and out all during the day and night, stepping over the sleeping children who refused to leave their mother’s side. It began to wear on him, the concerned visitors, government agencies talking about the future of the children, and more and more she withered away. It seemed that he hadn’t moved in a month, though it had only been a couple of days. Time was all he had, but time was slowly killing his wife.

Beep ….. Beep ….. Beep….Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

The sound woke him out of a deep sleep and he jumped as the monitors in the room began to flash. His daughter who was sleeping in his lap started to cry when the doctors came rushing in. Quickly his son now awake rushed to his side tears running down his face as they shocked his mother’s heart over and over again. Hawk sat in awe as he felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest. They worked on her and work on her until the doctors dripped sweat and were exhausted. The doctor looking over at the children was almost overcome with sadness as he spoke. “Time of Death 03:27.” Hawk grabbed the children and walked slowly over to Mani’s lifeless body. He placed them gently on the bed as the doctors and nurse moved out of the way. Hawk gently brushed Mani’s hair out of her face and told his kids, “Kiss your mother goodnight.” Each of them lower themselves and gently placed their lips on hers. Hawk did the same and said his last goodbyes to his wife. He picked up his children off the bed and walked out of the room. Hawk could feel the heat coming off his son, the tears running more and more down his face Nathan got hotter and hotter. “Nathan…..Nathan!”

The explosion ripped through him like a tidal wave. The heat was so intense that the metal frame work of the hospital building melted down like a stick of butter. The explosion quickly traveled out towards Dallas and Oklahoma scorching everything in it’s way. Yet there he stood in the middle of an apocalypse holding his son and daughter in his arms. Buildings and people were gone as far as the eye could see. A nuclear explosion was set off by the tears of a boy. The power within Nathan Anderson was more than he could bare at times, and Dallas paid for it. Hawk looked over himself and his children, Nathan now passed out in his arms and Olivia was still shedding tears, not of fear but of loss for her mother. Both of them had their hands on his chest protecting Hawk from the explosion and somehow they had gave a little bit of their powers over to him. Little hand prints where burned into his chest the mark of protection. Hawk’s wings now were back in their natural nanobot form, crawling like ants across his body. With a thought they shot inside of his back, and with another they became wings again but this time Hawk could shape and move them anyway he wanted like a shield or a spear with just a half thought. Nathan’s and Olivia had shared their powers with their father and now he felt unstoppable. He walked into the night, not knowing where to go just finally knowing what to do.

France

He came out of the darkness like a thief in the night, he made his walked hand and hand with his children into L'Amphitryon the finest restaurant in the country. His red cape blew in the wind behind him as he walked. The children stayed close not getting outside of their father’s flowing cape. “ Monsieur vous avez une réservation ?  He pushed the host out of the way as he made his way making his way towards the center of the restaurant. Sitting comfortably with his legs crossed drinking a small glass of wine was the murder of his wife. Gambler laughed out loud until he saw him enter the room, Nathan and Olivia flanking his sides. "You come to give me da newz then Hawk?" Gambler spoke as he rose his glass towards him. Darkness gathered in his eyes and his children took hold of his hands. They would have their revenge on the world, the world who shunned them, who took their wife and mother, the world who would have them separated. The lights in the restaurant flickered as he spoke.  "You can call me Lord's Angel" 

 
When the dust finally settled on France there was no more Gambler, there was no more House of L. All that was left was Lord's Angel and his children. One family to rule them all.......one man the be Lord of All. 
 
 
.........To be continued in Vine 2031: Children of Destiny.