"FUCK!!"

Luke Merriweather stood high above the streets, looking out over the city from a high-rise apartment building. He paced irritably, his lips tight, his hands clenching and unclenching. He still wore his Nemesis uniform but, as before, he'd pulled back the mask to let the night air cool him down.

What the fuck was I thinking?, he kept asking himself. Over and over in his mind he replayed the idea of being on a team, of joining with like-minded individuals to help clean up the crime and corruption in this city. Constant doubts were swept aside with vague rationalizations and cursory admonishments. He abandoned all pretense of his usual methodology and instead dove headfirst into the deep end without a single care for whether or not there were sharks in the water.

Well, now he knew for sure.

"Fuck!"

Ophilia Di-fucking-Santiago. What a piece of work she was. Lured him in with sweet words and soft smiles, then casually revealed the knife at his back just before the dance. Even if he did believe her that she didn't want her cousin on the team she sure as fuck wasn't doing anything about it that he could see.

Who the fuck did they think they were? More importantly, who the fuck did they think he was? He wasn't some costume-for-hire that they could give orders to. Fuck no, he was Nemesis! He was the one who took down the Ambrosini family, for fuck's sake! Well, as good as. He had leads on a dozen more crime figures. He had put more bad guys away in six months of wearing a mask than he had in the last ten years of his career as a cop.

"Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!"

Raphael DiSantiago. Orion. A plant. A fucking enforcer placed to watch him and the others and make sure they didn't step on too many DiSantiago toes. Well, fuck him, too.

Yeah, fuck him, too.

Nemesis kicked at the gravel, then stood contemplating the night sky. After an indeterminate time he reached up and pulled his mask back on.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Fuck him, too." He leapt from the building.

* * * * *

Almost an hour later found the vigilante standing on the ledge of another brick tenement building. Below and just to the side heavy bass carried out into the night as the seen-and-be-seen crowd loitered, came and went from some uppity club that changed its name every six months. You had to be rich or pretty to be in a club like this, preferably both. The bouncers all wore ties and greeted everyone with a polite nod, sometimes with a name and a handshake (which most often was followed by the bouncer placing something in his pocket before allowing the guest inside). Cars came up, parked, and the people tossed their keys to the waiting valets while the wannabes lined up twenty feet from the door, stretching back half-a-block and acting as if it was only natural for them to be there awaiting their turn to brush up against pseudo-greatness.

It was, of course, a mainstay of Raphael DiSantiago's nightlife.

Inside the club the music pounded as bodies pressed into each other. Raphael DiSantiago's was in no mood to party; no mood to be alone. He was in a mood to fight; but there wouldn't be anyone to beat up for another couple of hours. He looked around this place; it stank of useless people and booze. He felt a woman's arm fall over his shoulder an turned into her; pulled her close, then pushing her away again to the beat of the music. She was attractive, but that was the bare minimum for this place. Her skin was silky and dark, and she wore a platinum wig. In her heels, she was nearly as tall as Raphael. He knew, or rather had known, her name. She whispered something in his ear that made him smile. But, that smile only served to remind him how angry he was; angry in a sea of sex.

Luke didn't check his watch; he didn't care what time it was. He would be here all night if he had to. His sources said Raphael was most likely to be here sooner or later and by God Nemesis was going to be here, too.

He knew little of the man, not having reached that far in his research. He had a picture, of course (much good it would do him forty feet up in the dark), but he also knew the man by the vaguest of reputations. He was, by all accounts, simply a mediator. Someone put in the middle to keep the dirt out from under Angelo DiSantiago's nails. But there was something about him, something that made problems go away quicker when he was involved. No evidence was ever tied to anyone or anything in which Raphael was involved in, but that just made him even more a person of interest.

Well, he was of interest now if only because he'd fucked with Nemesis. That bastard had the temerity to insinuate himself into what was truly a heroic ideal, to use his family ties to undermine Ophilia's chance to do something good and right-

Fuck! Nemesis bit his lip in frustration. He had to quit defending her! She knew what she was doing!

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. If nothing else Ophilia DiSantiago was good at getting inside a person's head.

Inside the club, Raphael checked his watch, if he took this girl home now; he could throw a fuck into her and still get out to beat someone down. He whispered something in her ear that made her pull him close and plant a kiss on him. He took her by the hand and they made their way to the exit.

As they pressed past the partiers coming in, Raphael saw his cousin Jennifer. She tried to ignore him; he tried to ignore her; but the hatred that ran between them was deep. Raphael remembered the damage she had caused; and the clean up he had been forced to do. Seeing Jennifer made him think of Ophilia; and that just made him remember his anger, again. He took a slug of whiskey to clear his thoughts before calling for the valet.

A man called out to one of the valet's who promptly ran off into the night. Nemesis straightened slightly, squinting. It could be-no, it was too hard to make out if it was him or not. The mass of platinum blond hair attached to a waif-thin model-wannabe helped hide his face.

A low throaty growl started from the next block where Nemesis knew the valet parking lot was. After only a moment a silver car slid up to the curb.

Show time.

* * * * *

With a gymnast's grace the vigilante dropped and swung from ledge to rail to ledge until he was almost directly over the club. He paused for a breath then launched himself into the air, performing a reverse gainer.

With a resounding crash the vigilante landed on the roof of Raphael DiSantiago's Aston Martin DBS. The roof caved in dramatically, shattering the side windows and spraying glass several feet away. There was a collective scream from the crowd as Nemesis slowly stood from his crouch. He twirled his staff once and leveled it at Raphael.

"We need to talk."

The pop of the window breaking sounded like a gunshot. Raphael took cover, pushing the woman he was with to the ground (but in front of him). After a moment of hesitation, he pulled himself back up and looked at the vigilante who had just ruined his car. He opened his mouth to speak, but – at first – nothing came out.

"OK. You need to get the fuck off my car." He said with as much moxy as he could muster.

He pulled himself together fully before he spoke again. "The roof of HarpCorp Tower B in 15 minutes?"

Nemesis nodded once, reached to his thigh and brought up what could only be described as a mutant crossbow. There was a soft pop immediately followed by a hiss, and suddenly Nemesis was flying back up the way he came. In moments he’d disappeared into the darkness above.

* * * * *

HarpCorp Towers stood high over downtown Hudson City. Raphael, or rather, Orion waited patiently for Nemesis to arrive. He watched the spinning top of Tower A with its glitzy "Top of the World" Club in the distance. He had studied so much tape on Nemesis that he had ruled out three avenues of approach and knew that he would come from either the south or he was right now standing behind the giant spot lights that were atop of Tower A. In fact, he was certain that the vigilante was over there right now. Watching to see if this was a trap or not.

Orion made no move to give anything away. If Nemesis was really interested in talking to him, he would have to make the move. A gentle buzzing against Orion's left arm let him know that the 15 minutes was up.

As if on cue he heard Nemesis speaking. When the voice came, it was from the corner of the building. Just behind and to his left.

“Are you really such a self-serving bastard that you’d sell out one member of your family for another,” Nemesis asked, leaning against the cement buttress, “Or is Ophilia deluded enough to think she can do something good with scum like you in her family?”

You were wrong about him. Orion thought, You need to rethink everything you know. Orion recovered from being snuck up on. “You ruined my car to ask if I was a self-serving bastard and if Ophilia is deluded?” Raphael replied. “I was really kinda hoping for more.”

It felt a lot more like Ophilia had sold him out for her own self-interest. So much for not undermining him, or telling the rest the team she didn’t trust him. He wondered if Ophilia had really wanted to go to war with him; or if she was just making foolish mistakes. Everything rested in the balance of Nemesis’ action.

“We’re all self-serving bastards, and all at least somewhat deluded.” Raphael said, his stance more fight-ready than it had been moments ago; but he made no threatening move, “Is that all, or did you want to know something else?”

“Just one thing,” Nemesis retorted. He made note of Raphael’s change in appearance – he now wore some semblance of a costume, all blue and black and suitably intimidating. Nemesis ignored it. “Any reason I shouldn’t start dismantling your family right now, beginning with you? I think you’ve used Hudson City as your personal playground long enough, don’t you?”

So, War. Orion thought with a frown. “If that’s how you think you can do the most good, you are welcome to try. I suppose that taking me down would solve Ophilia’s problem very neatly.” The DiSantiago turned and walked, seemingly dropping his guard.

“I suppose that you gave the best reason of all: had that been your objective, you would have done so at the club; or from surprise, but you did not want to.” Orion stopped walking and turned again to face Nemesis. “So, what’s your real question? Am I someone’s spy? Is my job to report on and keep strings attached to Ophilia and the team? Whose man am I?”

“Yeah” Nemesis replied, pushing off from the ledge. He cradled his staff in one arm and gestured for Orion to continue. “Let’s start with that.”

“I am not a spy.” Orion said, knowing that no one would ever believe his answers. “My job is not to report on anyone or try and control Ophilia. Lastly, I am my own man.” He tilted his head slightly to the left with a questioning look on his face. “I’m not sure what she told you, what she knows of my past is sketchy at best. But, if she told you that I was little more than a thug and a fixer for rest of my family, then she told you the truth. But, that is in the past.

“What is true today is that I am still a thug and a fixer of problems; but I now no longer serve in my old capacity.” Orion continued, “I am a Conquistador – or desire to be one. I realize that my place on the team was forced upon her; and so, forced upon you. She sees no way around that; but, her vision is limited. She knows less than she should and assumes too much. Despite her ... herself.”

“Why?” Nemesis asked the question bluntly and without rancor. Despite his aggressive manner before he seemed remarkably restrained, almost conversational. He hadn’t relaxed yet, though, and maintained a safe distance from Orion. “Why to your professed change of heart; why to me believing your story? Just…” he gestured again. “Why?”

Orion knew this was the biggest problem, why would anyone believe him? “I’m a masked man you don’t know, why would you believe me? I’m perfectly happy with Ophilia not trusting me; I’m apparently going to have to learn to live with the fact that you know who I am and that Ophilia was the one who sold me out.

“I think that starting answer is that you should not trust me. You should watch me, evaluate me; if you find me trustworthy, trust me. If not, you should be done with me.” Orion’s words were flat, but his eyes were bright.

“As a start, I have been watching you. Looking for a weakness, moral weakness. Looking for some handle that I could attach on you; some way to twist you – should I need to – to my purposes.” He expected that to not sit well with the vigilante.

“But, watching you, I learned something about you and me and you. I know that you’re a good man; a good and decent man. Not the kind of person I have ever really known.” Raphael said, thinking back to his own father. “I have hours of footage of you fighting, stopping criminals, making a difference. You’re above the man, and I like that about you.”

“Man to man, I’d like to earn your trust, Luke.”

Nemesis chuckled mirthlessly and looked skyward. He shook his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He moved, then, walking in a slow circle. “You two really are related, aren’t you.” It was a rhetorical question. “Everything you say makes me think someone’s trying to play me. The woman who defends her family’s questionable deeds and need for power while saying she wants to do good, the man who admits to being an enforcer but really wants to be a hero…” He shook his head again. It almost seemed like he was talking to himself and not Orion. “I’m not even going to answer the comment about watching me. Those conversations always end the same way.” He stopped pacing and stared out into the night. “Agreeing to be on this team was one of my dumbest ideas. I’m just happy I’m quit of it. The question now, I suppose, is what do I do with you two?”

“Quit?” Orion replied with surprise. “Really?” Could Ophilia really be this incompetent on purpose? For the first time, he began to wonder if she were really working for Angelo.

The vigilante turned to face Orion with a wry smile. “Yeah. Quit. I’m not going to be anyone’s play thing. Unlike you and Phi I am most definitely not okay with having my strings pulled. I’m trying to make a difference. If that sounds arrogant or conceited or naïve, so be it, but it’s what I want. I have no idea what you want.” The you was given slight emphasis, giving it a broader meaning. “You say you want to be a hero. Fine. Be one. You don’t need me or anyone else for that. You just have to want it. Phi wants to do some good with the team, help her family and the city at the same time. I think that’s a noble sentiment, but I don’t see it happening. You can’t have two masters and expect results. She needs to decide what she really wants. I’m not a DiSantiago, though. I don’t have that baggage. All I have is a desire—a need--to make a difference. To leave this city a little better than the way I found it. I can’t—I won’t--work for or with anyone who doesn’t feel the same way.”

Nemesis shrugged, and he seemed suddenly very tired. “I’m not going to fight you, Raph—Orion. Not now, at least. But I’m going to keep on doing what I do. I wish—“ he trailed off and smiled wistfully. “It was a nice idea, the team, but I guess even nice ideas get tainted in Hudson City.” He sighed. “It’s too bad, too. I think it might’ve worked.”

“Pathetic.” Orion said. “You have this great opportunity before you and all you can see are the dangers. Maybe it’s best that you quit. Ophilia was as wrong about you as she was about everything else she has done since taking over.

“I had thought that you didn’t have a moral weakness. Now, I know that you are just a coward: running away when it gets hard or dangerous. You can’t see the opportunity for the fear.” Raphael waved his hand dismissively. “I guess it’s good to know that now.”

“But let me tell you this.” Orion’s voice growing softer but more tense. “I have no idea what kind of empty suit Ophilia plans on being; but no one pulls my strings now. I’m going to do what I can to make this place better. I was put on this team because it was assumed that I would help steer it clear of problem areas. But I was told that I don’t take orders from them anymore.” He started to walk away, angry and disappointed with Nemesis. “At least one of us here will be fighting them, I just didn’t think that anyone thought it would be me and not you.”

Nemesis stood quietly through the tirade, and for several long moments following. Then he laughed, a trickling of mirth at first that quickly blossomed into a true expression of amusement, as if he’d just heard a very funny joke.

“You’re so full of shit you don’t even know it.” The vigilante chuckled and twirled his staff, an almost-unconscious gesture as he again tucked it in close. “You’re the smart one of the bunch, Raphael. You know it’s not cowardice to fight a battle on ground of your own choosing. You don’t swim with the sharks to catch a fish.” Nemesis gave a short shake of his head. “Jesus,” he muttered. “I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation.”

“Look,” he continued in a louder tone. “You wanted to know about me so you had me followed, videoed and God knows what else. I wanted to know about you and I came to you. You look for the weakness in others; I look for strength. You expect the worst from people while I hope for the best. Are you starting to understand? You can’t just change your clothes and expect us to believe the man inside isn’t the same as he was. I came for Raphael and found Orion on the rooftop. Is that supposed to mean something?” He held up a hand, starting to speak, then smiled and closed his mouth.

“Okay,” he said after a moment. “Let me put it this way. You told me not to trust you, then you berate me for taking your advice.” Nemesis smiled. “You see the irony there, right?” He twirled his staff again and this time leveled it at Orion. “So who are you…Raphael or Orion?”

“Sure, thanks for pointing out how full-of-shit I am.” Raphael answered. How much difference was there between Orion and Raphael? He wondered. Raphael was a thug; Orion was supposed to be a hero. Was a mask all it took to change from one to the other. Wasn’t that just what Ophilia had thrown in his face this morning?

“I am Orion.” He answered. “Or I am trying to be.”

“Hey, don’t get pissed at me because the leopard wants to change his spots.” Nemesis started to say more then stopped himself.

“Look,” he began again in a mollified tone. “If you want to be Orion then be Orion.” Nemesis took a step forward and spread his hands. “Be a hero if that’s what you want to be, but don’t put it on the rest of us to carry you. You don’t rise or fall because of what we do; you rise and fall because of what you do.” He paused, took another step forward. “I don’t know what you’ve done in the past. I’ve heard the stories and the rumors, of course, but only you know how bad it is. Was. Whatever.” He waved the distinction away. “Whichever it is, can you put it down and walk away? I’m not saying it won’t be difficult. You might even fail. But you have to really want this. You have to try. You have power; that’s not in question. But it’s not enough to simply have the power. You have to have the will to use that power in the right way.”

He paused again, considering his words. “You don’t save someone because of their net worth or what they can do for you; you save them because they need saving. So there’s your challenge. Be Orion. Not for you. Not for me. Not for Ophilia. Be Orion for them.” He swung an arm wide, encompassing the city with a single gesture. “Be Orion for all the people out there who you’ve ignored and used and stepped on and pushed out of the way, you and your family both. If you want to change, don’t prove it to me. Prove it to them. You have to try, and you have to do it not knowing the outcome. There’s no weighing of options, no considering the angles, no analyzing pros and cons, gains and losses. You just do it and hope for the best. If you weren’t good at whatever it is you did for the family then you wouldn’t be who you are. Now it’s time to flip that around and do something for everyone else but you.”

Nemesis stopped speaking and chuckled. “Jesus. I came here to…I don’t know. Kick your ass. Yell at you. Something. Here I am convincing you to be the hero.” He chuckled again and shook his head. “Talk about irony.”

Orion was silent considered what had been said: no angles, no playing both sides against the middle, no concern for blowback. No discretion? He was curious about that. He nodded, understanding mostly what Nemesis was telling him.

“Then, don’t quit. Stay. Lead. Wouldn’t that be your advice to yourself?

“No analyzing the pros or cons; or gains or losses. Only thinking of the greater good? The greater good can be done with an established base and a team of other people pulling toward the same goal.” Orion stopped, wasn’t that right. “Right?”

If it weren’t for the mask Orion could almost be assured that Nemesis’ eyebrows went up. “Not necessarily,” the vigilante said slowly. He turned his head to stare off into the night. “But I suppose to avoid being a hypocrite I need to do something.”

He dropped his hands to his sides, his staff almost forgotten as it swayed gently. “The DiSantiagos win again,” he said tiredly. “Guess I’ll go talk to your cousin.” He looked back at Orion. “We done here?”

“Be careful with her.” Raphael said, “She’s lost someone close to her and... well, I don’t think she’s over that yet.”

Nemesis nodded and moved to the edge of roof. He stopped and, without turning around, spoke again. “You know, you were right about the fear thing. I am afraid. I’m afraid this team is going to make me…well, more like you.” He shrugged, then hopped over the side.

* * * * *

This one's for Andy. ~dave