The bustling Friday night traffic in Hudson City did nothing to slow Nemesis and Soldier Boy as they raced towards Lafayette.  The updates were few and far between over the communicators, but it was clear that whatever was happening in Fayettenam, was more than Paladin, Avatar and Heatwave could handle on their own.  The hypercycles slid in and out of traffic, onto and off of the sidewalks and even skimmed over the Stewart River to land on the banks of Crown Point.

Danny raised his hand to knock on the door, then hesitated. She was his cousin. She liked him. They got along. But would she listen? His arguments were good ones, but he was up against a legend here. And despite having been on the team for nearly half a year, he was still considered to be the new kid.

Ah well, he thought, nothing for it.

He knocked once upon the oak-paneled office door, then opened it and stepped inside. He knew she was in there; he could smell her.  "Cheers," he said brightly as he stepped into Ophilia DiSantiago's office. "Do ya have a moment or two?" 

NOTE: This meeting takes place AFTER the events in the Chimera plotline

"You like these, don't you?"

Jag opened his eyes and gazed up at a sweet pair of breasts, cupped in the skilled and nimble fingers of a girl named Amber. Or maybe it was Anna? Alicia? Something like that anyway. She was riding him slowly, expertly: the way he liked it. The way his second wife had done so that time in an old adobe hotel in Rio, Carnival going on in the streets below their room, a cinnamon and honey scented breeze filling the air, mingling with the scent of their sex.

The Sphinx Club, an elite strip joint and discreet high-end brothel becomes the latest horror scene in Hudson City.  The owner, former porn star known as Cleopatra, was horrified and distraught over losing her girls and quite possibly her reputation.  The serial nature of the crime was a very clear and present danger to both her girls and her affluent clients. At her wits end and unable to trust the authorities, she called in the best of the best, Edison Palmer. 

Down in Fayettenam
Ya gotta have a bomb
Ya gotta have a gun
If you wanna see the sun
’Cause night comes down
Y’gonna hear th’ sound
Of bucks and nines
Guns and knives
Guns and knives
All’a the time
— from “Fuller,” by Dis Tense

The raven fluttered to a perch atop a rusted out Toyota Camry on blocks, a raucous *CAW* echoing out into the street. It kept one beady eye cocked to watch the sky while the other took in its surroundings.

Bleak. Very bleak.

Whatever they were looking for, it wasn't down here, that was for sure. Nothing here but fear and violence and hopelessness. You could almost smell it, if you knew what to look for.

Violet eyes set in a petite porcelain face glared down at two of her minions.  She'd allowed them to survive to answer her questions, the other three had been terminated with an instantaneous thought.  That was all it took.  One snarl of disdain from her perfect nose and the mental flip of a switch, and any one of her underlings would short circuit and fall dead at her feet.  Those were the lucky ones. 

The unlucky ones returned.  Scrambled remnants of a toy graveyard, life fluids fed to them through wires and tubes, sparked to life without mercy for Lady Cybra to control.  Only their brains were intact, feeding them memories of their past lives and allowing them some capacity to pray for death.

"How."  She commanded.  Her lips were pursed in a grimace of irritation, but the tone of her voice was as smooth as silk.  It emanated from within her and slid from her tongues, one in her mouth where it should have been, and the other tucked unseen behind her chin.  The quality of it resonated richly and was unreal, almost hypnotizing.

The sweat soaked and stressed trio that had disarmed the bomb at the Justice Building, were beyond grateful to see Chip Wolfe leaning up against the limo outside.  It was illegally parked, but security assumed that the right palms had been greased and that he was entitled to be there.  Hudson City justice was highly influenced by who paid who what, so often times if you looked like you belonged, not a brow would be raised.  Drop the right name and just about anything could be forgiven.

Before they turned the corner, Stone said, "Hey, doc, do you think--..."

Sebastián's mind was slightly pre-occupied, wondering what the staff of Toddberry would make of a Doctor riding up on a motorcycle, wearing a tuxedo. He was hoping they'd chalk it up to "DiSantiago Eccentricity" when Stone's voice brought him out of his mild reverie. Turning, he gave Stone his full attention.

His smoky lenses turned once more towards the scene unfolding along the side of the building. He stopped his bike and gestured for Sebastian to follow suit as he studied the situation.

"Unexpected transfer..." the biker thought out loud. There was a pause, and then he swung his leg to get off his bike.

Heavy metal music escaped out the doorway of Slammin' Jack Maxwell's top floor lair in the converted industrial complex that served as headquarters for the Forbidden. The two bikers in black jackets with their blood-covered shoulders dripping down the sleeves marking them as part of their clan held a forty-ish woman between them as they walked through it.

She was dressed in high-end blue jeans and a kelly green silk blouse. Her expensive heels stumbled trying to keep up with her forced escort. Her long, done-up, red hair was somewhat messed but her expensive makeup was still in place. She was short, maybe 5' 2", and curvy but fit.