Damien was in his office at the new AIST headquarters, browsing through his various e-mail accounts trying to separate the gems that actually needed his attention from the dross that could be delegated, when an alert prompted him of a new e-mail in his Brainstorm account.

He pulled up that account on the Olympians server. He was confused because he'd already sorted through and handled that account hours ago. There shouldn't have been any activity this soon, especially since he'd updated the filters to re-route and dump anything that could be handled elsewhere.

 Damien had just settled into his office chair, and turned his attention to a series of proposals and bid sheets for city and state contracts when his assistant Bill opened the door. 

The man was white, and gulping furiously. "M ... M ... Mis .. Mister A.. Alexand ... der, Umm..."

"What is it, Milton? I'm busy." Damien asked. William was usually unflappable, though not nearly as composed as Patrice had been.

"It's William, sir." The assistant said absently. "There's a ... Umm.... There's a ..." William stuttered.

"Spit it out, man." 

"Mr. Alexander, there's a B ... Big ... " William stopped and took a deep breath. "Sirthere'saBigfootheretoseeyou." William looked close to passing out.

There was a light rain falling as Brainstorm concealed himself behind some undergrowth. He was early, the house still dark, and he didn't want to give away his presence. It was difficult enough to build cases against those he hunted without them seeing him ahead of time and this vision had been particularly brutal.

Damien looked at his watch. There was still 15 minutes or so before the events in his vision started. This particular vision had plagued him for nearly a week before he'd narrowed down the house. He was still shivering from the most recent replay, a scant 30 minutes ago. the vision had changed a couple of times, but it still ended the same way, bloody. The most current iteration involved garbage bags, a butcher knife and a circular saw.

Damien rubbed his temples trying to ease the tension the day's revelations had caused. He needed to deal with Veronna and Verech soon. But first he needed to make sure Patrice, and by extension himself and his legacy were safe. Then he needed to get through the next few days of media fallout from his press release tomorrow.

Unfortunately, protecting Patrice without going on the offensive just wasn't in his bag of tricks. He wasn't sure who could help. Gypsy could create a link, and maybe help that way, but that put Gypsy at additional risk, and Damien was damned if he'd give up Gypsy to save himself.

"Thanks, Donald. Please have the paperwork drawn up and couriered to my office as soon as possible. Let me know when they've left so I know when to expect them. I'll have them signed and returned ASAP. Remember, this is all confidential. I want no word of this to leave your office until I make it public." Damien smiled as he listened to the reply. "I knew I could count on you Donald. You haven't failed me yet, I don't expect it to happen any time soon. Take care my friend, I'll talk to you soon."

What if you woke up one day and learned that everything you knew, everything you loved, and everything you counted on was a lie?

Would you give up?

I almost did.

Almost.

However, when everything began to unravel, when nothing made sense; when up was down, right was wrong, in was out; that's when I found myself and discovered an inner peace and strength I'd never known before.

As usual, it all started with Adrian. Just like it ended. Who is Adrian? He's the one who seduced me, taught me, supported me, saved me, rejected me and, ultimately, redeemed me.

He's been in my life, thoughts, heart and prayers in some form or another since I was 16.

Silver Hawk/Ted Langham - Admelior
Brainstorm/Damien Alexander - Darren Woods
Dragoon/Percy Miller - Andy Mathews

Life couldn't have been better for Ted Langham, his Silver Hawk armor had performed better than he had expected in the field and after only a week he was responsible for stopping eight crimes on his own. None of them had been more than a simple mugging but it had felt good just the same. The only downside to the whole week was the armor had developed a glitch and he would have to spend at least part of the day tracking it down.

“I'm truly sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Laurent, but there's nothing more we can do,” said Dr. Fred Patterson, Chief of Medicine at Port City Memorial Hospital. He frowned as he stared down at the Laurent's son lying comatose among a nest of wires and tubes. “Nathan's injuries are too severe. We repaired what we could, but his lungs, heart and liver are failing. With total life support he'll probably last another two weeks, maybe three. Right now it's a question of when, not if.”

Evelyn Laurent choked back a sob as she turned her face into her husband Thomas' broad chest. She clenched his jacket in her fists.

“That's not acceptable,” Thomas Laurent shot back. His eyes shone with repressed tears. “If you can't save my son, I'll find someone who can.”