The eternal ocean breeze of the land called Haven rolled with a soothing embrace along a supple neck. Her hair pulled up in a haphazard bun of billowing auburn, Victoria Greystoke's face poured sweat. Timed grunts were bled dry by the muffling breeze, her hands clasped with a white-tightness around the pull-bar. Taught muscles of a graceful cut sparkled with perspiration, twinkling against the lazy rays of the endlessly setting sun. Damp splotches marked across the white, sleeveless 'wife-beater'-shirt, giving the world an almost transparent view of nipples made sharp from the cool breeze.
".....342...." she grunted through clenched teeth. "...343..."
Her ankles locked together, she continued her regiment of pull-ups on the thin, horizontal support column lining the thirty-story pavillion.
"...344..." she grunted again. "...345.......what do you want Graham?"
She cocked her eyes over to the open entrance where Graham Wells leaned, watching her in silence.
"Down-wind, am I?" he smiled.
She dropped from the bar, grabbing her towel.
"You've been standing there ogling me for the past five minutes--"
"Four minutes, sixteen seconds, twelve nano-seconds, thirty-seven pico-seconds, and nine trilo-seconds, to be exact..." he interrupted.
"--whatever." she said, rubbing her face dry. "You need something?"
Wells shrugged, his hands deep in his trouser pockets.
"I'm just here to complete the moment I see." he said.
It would have been a rather baffling remark to most. However, Graham had been an agent for The Order longer than anyone, save Artemis Cross. Those that had come and gone around him had come to understand the man's strange demeanor, and had learned to understand he was simply a tool of his nature.
Greystoke reached behind her head, grabbing the back of her skull. She twisted back and forth, stretching out her upper body. A smooth, taught washboard of a stomach flashed by Graham's eyes.
"...okay, so what's this moment entail?" she asked.
He stared at her briefly.
"It entails you laughing." he stated with an almost neutral tone.
She cocked an eyebrow.
"Why? Are you suddenly going to gain a sense of humor?"
He walked towards her.
"No..." he chuckled. "...I would never put anyone through that..."
He stopped in front of her, even as she was reaching for her tan, button-up hanging from one of the stone spires.
"Then, why am I laughing?" she asked.
He stared at her for another moment.
"Forget it." he shrugged. "The moment seems to have changed."
She sighed, unfurling her massive mane of hair.
"Bloody hell, you are a boring git, aren't you?" she said with a wry smile.
He returned the smile. Leaning against the stone bannister, he stared out over the pristine starfield that covered half the sky.
"Well....you know...." he began, his voice beginning to gain a strange, nervous titter. "...if you are really bored....I can....you know....think of something we can do...."
"Oh yeah? What's that?" she asked, pulling the shirt over her shoulders.
Wells took a deep breath.
"...wellll...." he began, turning towards her. "...I was going to maybe pop over to Italy......have a bite of dinner...."
He looked at her with an obvious fear in his eyes.
"...I thought...perhaps....you'd like to......umm.....accompany me....?"
She paused, staring at him.
"You mean......like a date?" she asked very carefully.
He stared back.
"Uhh...well...that is...not exactly like a date....maybe just a....a...meeting of some sort.....we could talk about improvements that could be made to the team...or....."
He stammered off, even as she just stared at him with a blank expression.
And, slowly, a smile began to crease her face.
"Ohhh! You tosser'!" she half-laughed, slapping him on the arm with a stand-offish demeanor. "And you say you don't have a sense of humor!"
She turned, walking towards the doorway...
"You really had me going there for a moment!" she remarked, breaking into a broad....perhaps nervous.....laughter.
Graham's smile was cemented on his face, as he watched her walk away.
"...and there it is..." he said, checking his pocketwatch.
Meanwhile, fifteen stories below...
The broad, open chamber stood with a fifty-story ceiling, the interior matching the rest of the temple in its identical granite decor. Massive thirty-foot statues lined the perimeter of the room, individually illuminated by eternally-burning torches of white flame.
The Chamber of the Fallen.
Warriors...agents....of The Order that were now gone. Those that had fallen in battle throughout Haven's history.
"Z has returned....they are heading for the lab..." Turkish said, turning from the mirror lining the far wall.
Grimm stood a few feet away, hands clamped behind his back. He was staring silently up at the figure before him. The light flickered and danced shadows across the stone visage of a familiar face. One that he had known for only a brief time, and, yet, was as familiar as a childhood friend.
The previous avatar of death....Wun.
Turkish stepped up next to him, peering up as well.
"He never once uttered a single word to me...." Turkish began. "...thankfully, mind you. Yet, I found his presence comforting."
"You found death comforting?" Grimm asked, neither man taking their eyes off the statue before them.
"It was a reminder to me...." the Prophet explained. "....that all things end..."
Grimm sighed heavily, staring more off, now, than at the statue.
"The natural cycle of existence." Grimm nodded.
"Exactly..."
"But, this time.....this time...it doesn't feel right..." the Vanguardian leader tried to explain, more for his own sake than his companion's.
"You are speaking of Michael Harrison?" Turkish cocked an eyebrow, turning towards him.
"Mick...yeah...." Grimm nodded, never breaking his stare from the statue. "....Chance....Kristofer....I felt. I knew. His was.....right."
"And those that died today? Those that fell in Antarctica?" Turkish asked, studying his friend's reactions.
Grimm nodded again.
"Yes....that was as it had to be." the avatar of death replied. "That was just another roll in the cycle...."
"And, yet, Harrison is different? Why?"
"I don't know...." Grimm shook his head. "I don't know anything, anymore. Ever since that night...."
His words trailed off, thinking back to the fateful night his status in existence upgraded.
"...and then, ever since he left me the family business...." he continued, pointing towards Wun's statue. "...it's all...confusing. I feel the pull, now. I feel....no...I know the need of death. I understand my role. I understand my place in the universe. But, I still don't understand this nature that guides me."
Grimm finally sighed again, going silent.
Turkish stared at him for a moment.
"Perhaps...." the Prophet began. "...perhaps, the reason it feels different....or wrong...is because you miss him...."
Grimm finally turned from the statue, staring Turkish dead-on.
"...perhaps it isn't your avatarial nature that is making you feel something amiss...." Turkish explained with a comforting voice. "....but, that he was your friend...and you mourn his passing."
Grimm stared at Turkish for another moment. Then, turned silently back to the statue.
"You know..." Turkish began. "...yours is a presence I miss, as well."
Grimm turned back to him again.
"Meditation isn't quite the same for me either, these days...." Grimm began. "...no one's there to put all of my rocks back together for me..."
Turkish's face blossomed into a broad smile.
"Well, then...perhaps if you would concede to visit these hallowed halls more often, I can arrange for weekly visits to your favorite quarry..."
If Grimm could have smiled, he would have.
"Deal." he nodded.
Turkish turned, heading for the door.
"Come...let us go check up on the status of your friends..."
Grimm began following the man towards the door.
"So..." Grimm began. "...what's this I hear about you and the armor-chick? What's her name? Pendraga?"
"Pendragon." he replied. "And, I have no idea what you are talking about..."
"Oh bullshit!" Grimm remarked with a chuckle. "Come on, Turk....spill it!"
"Spill what?"
"You've got a thing for her, don't you?"
"Who told you that?"
"I think Z mentioned it once...."
"Z's an alcoholic."
"Ha! You are so bad at lying, you know...."
"Z's into heroin."
"Come on Turkish! You 'wuv' this Pendragon woman, don't you?"
"Z is mentally insane, as well as a habitual liar."
"I think I know who the habitual liar is here...."
"Did I tell you Z's really a man?"
"...Turkish..." Grimm sighed.
**************
"...'n over there's tha' original Hangin' Gardens..."
Z's voice trailed along the brisk evening breeze, sunlight splotched against the petal-covered cobblestone path. Her gum smacking, she strolled with a determined pace, introducing points of interest with the flair of a cynical tour guide. The pace of her companion, while not as determined, per se, was just as frantic.
"...wh-what...?" the woman stammered out, jerking her wide-eyed gaze to and fro with a permanent awe.
Her name was Jana Macedes. Born and raised in the Mandelovian nation, she was only one in the three-million metas that populated the country. Having recently survived the ravages of the Mandelovian war, she now found herself in a place beyond her wildest understanding.
"The Hanging Gardens of Babylon." Z enunciated as clearly as possible. "Thot's the original, watch your step...."
Z had reached for the woman's arm, even before she tripped against the first step of the long 'rope bridge'.
"Issz' cool..." Nida remarked. "...I used to hit thot' step all th'bloody time..."
"...this....bridge..." Jana spoke, her rough accent clipping the end of every vowel. "...itis......smog...?"
"Smoke..." Z corrected, as the two crossed the wide ravine. "Iss' some sorta' natural phenomenon, or so um' told, rite'. Been like this forever, if ya' believe in that sorta bollocks. Freaked me silly at first. Jus' don' look down, eh?"
Jana immediately looked down, even as they neared the end.
"Oh!" she yelped, the sight of flowing magma miles below startling her.
Z held her by the elbow, guiding her off the bride.
"Iss' okay, really....nothin's gonna hurt you here, swear..."
And, even though Jana's eyes seemed to doubt the intended comfort of the words, she nodded, the two pressing on.
"So..." the Mandelovian began. "...you need me...help you?"
"That's roite'..." Z nodded. "....we got ou'selves a deadringer of a problem, ya' see...."
They passed a waterfall that sparkled different shades of blue. Glowing spheres of sentient protoplasm floated near the churning surface, feeding off the ambient light with a faint chiming melody.
"No un' can seem to find a way to help those two Vanguard-gits'." the avatar of space continued. "So, Alice dida' search through Real-Time...."
They turned a corner along the path, the immense shadow of the epic Temple dropping over their forms with a cooling embrace.
"...and, whot' do ya' know? She found you."
Jana gasped, Z turning to follow her gaze to their far left.
There, in a wide, sunny field, Artemis Cross sat crosslegged reading a book. It wasn't this that she gasped at, of course, but, what he leaned against. Behind him, a gigantic two-headed dragon lay sprawled lazily along the sun-drenched field of green.
"...and, then, the little pig replied 'Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin'..." Cross continued, reciting the children's book to his droopy-eyed companions.
The enormous red-scaled creature, drizzling smoke from each set of nostrils, was the size of a four-story office building; Artemis dwarfed by a single fang.
"Oh...thas' jus' Statler and Waldorf, our resident ambassador from the Draconian Empire..." Z explained. "...the silly little sod in front is their pet, Artemis Cross..."
The two women continued on, the group in the field oblivious to their passing.
"....'and they lived happily ever after, the end'..." Arthur said, closing the book. He turned with a wide grin at the two sleepy faces staring down at him.
"Wasn't that great?" he asked, a child-like glee glued to every inflection. "And, the moral of the story is: Capitalism run amuck causes real estate prices to soar, and brings down the value of middle-class urban sectors."
The only reply was a gusting nostril-sigh from one of the heads. Cross reached up, hugging one of the body-sized, red scales lining the chins of each head.
"Okay, guys...I've got to go.....duty calls..." he said, immediately grabbing his own crotch. "...or, rather, nature..."
He began heading towards the path.
"I'll see you later..." he said over his shoulder.
Cross wasn't even out of sight, when one of the heads turned to the other one...
"You think one day we should tell him that we can talk?" Waldorf asked in a clear, English dialect.
"Oh, heavens no!" Statler replied. "I rather enjoy all the stories."
"Yes, there's nothing like a good story..." Waldorf nodded.
"...and that was nothing like a good story..." Statler replied.
Both heads chuckled, smoke billowing with the guttural sound.
"Those pigs were obviously racist..."
"I know!" Statler nodded. "If I were that lupine, I would have filed a class-action discrimination suit."
"Or at least alerted the NAACP..."
"True. But, I like how meatbag spiced the tale up with the interlude at the strip club."
"Who knew female swine could bend that way?"
"Yes...that was creative....and the part when the aliens invaded, and the President of the United States has to kill them all with....with....what was it called?"
"A 'Kung-Fu Action Grip', I believe. Nasty sounding weapon."
"How can one human grip that tightly? It's unnatural."
"So is the fact that meatbag's parents concieved him."
Both heads chuckled again.
*******************
In the tech-lab of the temple, Rowena stood calmly, staring at the two humanoid statues before her.
"....there..." the voice of Doctor Moreau stated, standing up from his bent position. "...that should do it..."
"He is repaired?" Rowe asked.
Moreau stared at the pertified LLance.
"Yes, well, according to my calculations, both torsoes should line up exactly..." the good Doctor continued. "...however, the transmutation of their molecular structure will have to be left up to this specialist that Z is bringing in....where the devil is that girl, anyway?!"
the avatar of space
just entered the temple
Alice's cool voice seemd to fill the room exponentially.
Tayden stood off to the side, watching intently. And, even though he had journeyed to Haven with Grimm in hopes of helping Velo and LLance, he found himself mildly curious about the man next to him. He had fought against, and then, with, this man before. And, yet, he had never taken the time to truly look at him.
As he was doing now.
Intently.
"...what?" Tallmoore asked, looking at Tayden. "Do I have a booger hanging out of my nose, or something?"
Tayden shifted his eyes to the man's nose, and then back again.
"No, I see no boogers." he replied earnestly.
"Well, why do you keep staring at me like that?"
Tayden paused, as if considering the question.
"You are....familiar...to me..." the ex-seraphim explained. "...I am not quite sure why, though..."
Friday frowned, taking another drag.
"Well, goddamn man....we just fought together a few months back..." Tallmoore shrugged. "Think maybe that has anything to do with it?"
Tayden shook his head.
"No...no...not you..."
He leaned in closer, staring directly into Tallmoore's pupils...
"...you seem familiar....not you.....you...." he half-whispered, peering very closely into the man's eyes.
Eyes that seemed to shake....to tremble at the piercing might of his stare....
"...they say, Mr. Tallmoore...." Tayden began, peering ever closer. "...that the eyes are the 'windows to the soul'..."
...'windows' that instantly rolled and flickered ominously with the epic-black shadows of the abyss...
"...I see you too..." a sadistic voice whispered from Tallmoore's clenched teeth.
Tayden jerked back with a start, feeling an eternal cold brush against his ever-resilient soul.
And, by the time he blinked once, a blue-eyed Friday was standing there staring at him with a baffled expression.
"What's wrong with you, man?" Friday asked, perplexed.
Tayden just stared at him briefly with a wide-eyed expression of half-intrigue, half-fear.
"....nothing....it's nothing...." Tayden said, retreating to another part of the lab, even as Z and her Mandelovian companion entered the expansive chamber.
"About time, young Zbinden!" Moreau began, walking over to greet the visitor.
"Oh, sod off, mary..." Z rolled her eyes.
"Are these...?" Jana asked, pointing towards the two statues.
"Yes, yes my dear..." the doctor nodded. "...it seems to be some form of transmutatable status, where the electrons have gained three new positron-cyphers, breaking down their orbital cohesion...."
Jana ran her hands across Velo's smooth face.
"...stone...?" she asked.
"She catches on quick..." Grimm said, he and Turkish entering the lab.
Jana's wide-eyed shock at the sight of Grimm's skulled-visage was short-lived, as she reasserted her personal bravery, attempting to digest her surroundings.
"Can you do it, Ms. Macedes?" Turkish asked, his towering frame standing before her.
She paused, looking at the two statues. Then, without a word, placed a hand to each stone face. There was a momentary lapse of sound, as if everyone and everything within the room held its breath.
In reality, it was the nature of Jana's metahuman abilities. Her transmutable gifts were remarkable, to say the least. However, in order to shift the molecular structure of matter, a balance had to be maintained by the natural elemental laws of the universe.
In this case, Jana devoured the energy of the sound waves, bouncing within the chamber, to fuel this exertion of elemental power.
There was no flare of light, or visual expression of energy in any form. One moment, Velo and LLance are solid stone...
Jana removed her hands, stepping back with a satisfied smile.
"....to get out of here--"
Larry stopped, looking around in confusion, even as Velo, who had been in mid-leap when frozen, toppled to the floor.
"...what...?" Velo said, jerking up, staring all around him.
"Thot's it?" Z asked, looking at Jana. "No 'intense concentration', or, 'build up of energy', or any of that?"
Jana just shrugged, smiling.
"She's good..." Turkish nodded behind the woman, placing a hand on Jana's shoulder.
Grimm calmed LLance, even as Tayden helped Velo to his feet...
