Episode Nine - 'In the Mouth of Madness'

"So, moving on now from Starlight, I'd like to discuss the final tier of meta humans, commonly referred to as 'Olympians'. These creatures represent the God like pinnacle of meta human evolution. Possessing abilities that seemingly rewrite the laws of physics on a daily basis, they pose the greatest threat to life as we know it. I'm going to use Magistra and Flechette as examples." Dominic turned to face the projection screen. "Next Film please. Thank you."

"These pictures were taken with the Pentax 9 orbital camera on board our Ariadne 12 spy satellite. Previous attempts to film Flechette using conventional cameras produced nothing more than a series of blurs. The pictures you are about to see were taken during a routine battle between Magistra and Flechette, and a villain called Landfill. We've slowed down the film using a digital process that is a little too complicated to go into right now. The battle took place in South America, and there's not much left of the town any more. Suffice to say that Flechette is moving at a relative speed of 650 miles per second, which is 3000 times the speed of sound. And in case that's a little hard to grasp, I should point out that our fastest unmanned vehicle, the Slingshot 900, could attain a maximum velocity of 27.4 miles per second. Needless to say, Flechette would leave it standing at the starting line."

"Next picture please. Thank you. What you're looking at now Gentlemen is Landfill. Seismic instruments registered an increase in his body mass to his optimum level of 600,000 tons. Notice however that he hasn't sunk any further than three inches into the ground. 600,000 tons, Gentlemen, is approximately 18 times the weight of the Floating Fortress, the U.N. ILLUSTRIOUS. As you can see... any second now... perhaps we should speed up the film... ah, wait, here we go... as you can now see, Magistra has flown straight into Landfill, with Flechette close behind. Magistra has maintained his velocity, which means Landfill is now travelling, backwards I might add, at 650 miles per second. And yes, it's a shame about the buildings in the way. Pan out with the camera please.... And.... yes.... We can see them again. Now comes the science. An object of that mass, travelling at that speed would absorb 14.3 quintillion joules of energy per second. In short, Landfill should burst into flames instantly, exposing Flechette and Magistra and creating a deafening sonic boom in their wake. Both men and the woman should be vaporised within 4.26 thousandths of a second."

"Now, as you can see, Magistra veers upwards, carrying Landfill up through the cumulus, stratus, stratocumulus... the camera was having problems tracking at this point so we lost them both until they penetrated the cirro-cumulus - at which point they were already 85 kilometres above the Earth's surface and rising; very quickly I might add... But let's track back to Flechette and we can see she comes to a sudden halt. Decelerating from 650 miles per second to a dead stop in 0.001 seconds should subject this woman to acceleration forces somewhere in the magnitude of 17,000 g's. She's a slim woman, so based on her apparent body mass she should be struck by 4,315,015 pounds of force - enough to reduce her to a small blob of pink goo. She remains however in excellent health. And what about those breasts, eh?"

"Lights. Thank you."

The lights click on in the darkened room. Mr Price shifts in his chair and regards Mr Winston, who sits next to him, with an air of curiosity.

"Very interesting, Dominic," says Mr Winston eventually.

"The point of all this of course is to highlight a simple fact, that after 60 odd years of meta human history, we still haven't the faintest idea what makes these Olympians tick. We have grown accustomed to such scenes to the point where we no longer question them. Gentlemen, it should be obvious to you, as it is to me, that we are all slaves. Human beings have been born into bondage since 1987. We owe our very existence to the benevolence of these creatures. We live only so long as we amuse them. In thirty years time I firmly believe humanity will have accepted their lot in life to the point where we may as well be cattle, herded and groomed by this new master race. We have only two choices; perpetual bondage, living in the shadows of our new Gods, or the alternative that I am proposing - the Arcadium. Any questions?"

"Yes..." Mr Price stretches in his black leather chair and reaches for a Cuban cigar. He lights it quickly with a First World War cavalry lighter before continuing. "Slightly off topic, Dominic, but before we came in here tonight, Winston here mentioned that you used to be a super hero."

Dominic smiles, slightly embarrassed. "Well, yes, that's true enough."

"He says you were a member of that super team - the League of..."

"...English Gentlemen, yes - Drummond's idea as I recall. I was only a member briefly, for three weeks, right up to the end when it all went horribly wrong."

"Would I remember your name, Dominic? Were you famous?"

"Yes, in England at any rate. I went by the name of Mr Punch." Dominic smiles. "Mr Punch - 'The most dangerous man alive.' But that was four years ago." Silence. "Well, perhaps a short break then, and then we'll go downstairs to Zone 9. Gentlemen, tea and biscuits are being served in the other room..."

A Hotel In The Lake District

The cute field mouse landed feet first on the pine table and swished its tail. The mouse was tired now and its little heart was beating oh so fast, almost to bursting point. Once more, the mouse twitched its whiskers and looked out towards the open doorway that led to safety. It tensed its body and ran, but before its feet had barely cleared the surface of the table, a hand swooped down, grabbed the mouse firmly by the tail, and lifted it back into the air.

"Twenty six," said Professor Woland as he let the frightened mouse dangle from his hand. Woland sat at one of the tables in the bay window of the travel lodge restaurant where earlier that evening Bretnor, Gabriel and Argent had been enjoying their late evening meal. Around him sat the Brood, amusing themselves in trivial ways. In the far corner of the room the twins, Yin and Yang, were playing with a naked man. His hands and feet were bound with adhesive gaffa tape.

Maya walked across the room and regarded her lover, Woland. "It's gone midnight you know."

"Yes, something is very wrong." Woland released the mouse again. He watched it from the corner of his eye. As soon as the timid animal made to move he grabbed its tail again. "Twenty seven."

"The Duke should have been back by now," continued Maya.

"I know."

"He enjoys a good chase, but he's never taken this long before." "I... KNOW." Woland stood up and crushed the mouse in the palm of his hand. He threw the pulp against the wall and wiped his hands on his trousers.

"That superhero... the blonde woman... there's no way she could have beaten the Duke is there?"

"No." Woland stared out of the windows at the darkness and the trees. "I tested her - she isn't quick enough. The Duke can run rings around her."

"But something has happened?"

"Yes..." Woland considered the matter. "Something has happened."

The Forest

Elenor Haines could feel every molecule in the air as it brushed her skin. She could smell rich scents from the grass that she'd never been aware of before. The colours were bright, vivid, and everything seemed sharp, in focus, and crystal clear. Herne moved slowly to her left. She couldn't understand why he was moving so slowly - gradually lifting one foot and placing it before the other. Even now he was turning his head towards her in slow motion.

"How...." He began to say. Elenor waited impatiently, tapping her foot, grinding her teeth, fidgeting, for what he was trying to say. "...are..." Come on, she thought - what's wrong with you? "you.....................feeling..."

"Fineofcoursebutwhataboutyouareyoutryingtobeamimeorsomething?"

Elenor was suddenly aware that Herne was looking puzzled.

"Can...."

"...you..."

"speak........................slower......................please................"

Elenor Haines had taken 5 cc of the experimental Muscle 9 drug exactly twenty-three minutes and thirty seconds ago. And it felt great.

"This is..." Elenor was careful to slow her speech down, "just... fantastic... I feel so sharp, so... good! The air feels like warm water... I feel so... I can hear fish swimming in a river; I can feel ripples in the air as a leaf is falling from a tree; I can taste the dust in the air; I can..."

"Hey!" shouted Herne. "Stop it! You're spacing out on me."

Elenor laughed. She back flipped three times, spinning twice in mid air between each landing. "OH YES!" she screamed. "YES! YES! YES!"

"Are you sure you're OK?"

"I..." She stared at him, "have never..." Elenor grinned, "Felt better!"

And then it happened for the first time, but certainly not the last. One moment Elenor was looking at the dreadlocked bowman and then....

One

... It's quite late at night, you've decided to forego the pleasures of the pub this cold evening, so instead you find yourself sitting quietly by the television, watching Ally McBeal, when you hear a distant knock on your front door. Not really expecting anyone at this late hour, you nevertheless rise from your armchair, putting aside the glass of chilled Chardonnay that is your dinner tonight.

Whoever it is knocks again in the time it takes for you to reach the door. Never mind, you undo the latch, turn the handle, and then for a brief moment you hesitate, seeing a vision of a long dusty road, a highway leading to a crossroads with a sign pointing out towards the horizon. You don't know what the sign says, but for some reason you know you've been there, or will be there sometime soon.

But it's only a daydream so you open the door. A chill October wind (and October is the tenth month, not the eighth) raises the hairs on the back of your neck as you look out onto the landing of Victory Mansions, past the potted plants that were already there when you moved in.

"Hello..." The voice is strong and confident. It's your husband of course, how stupid of you to forget. You hold out your hand and just then you freeze. The moment hangs still in the air, borne upwards on the breeze towards that dusty crossroads with the solitary sign standing in the middle of nowhere - that hidden place where all roads in your life will eventually meet. Because this is not right. Your name is Elenor Haines. You don't have a husband. You never married.

"Well?" He smiles as he shifts a travel bag onto the floor. "Can I come in?"

The Forest

"You're not listening to me are you?" asked Herne.

"Huh?" Elenor stared at him, confused. "I..."

"You just went all 'pretty vacant' on me again. I don't think you should have taken that drug..."

"I..." Elenor reached her hand out and touched the air. It all seemed real enough now, but just then...

"Hello? Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me? Argent?"

"I think... something is..." And then it hit her again.

Two

"You'd better come in then," says your husband as he holds the door open for you. "You must be cold." You smile, brushing the pine needles off your coat as you step inside the apartment where the warmth of the air restores life to your frozen hands.

"Was the train late?" he asks. You nod, about to reply that the lines are always bad on Sundays; they have been for years; but the words stick in your throat. Perhaps it's because of the blood on your hands - red - encrusted beneath your fingernails.

"Oh now look, you've cut yourself." He takes your hand, rubs it, kisses it and then slowly, carefully, licks the blood away with the tip of his tongue. "You really should take more care you know." Something in the tone of his voice suggests a warning. Again you remember the crossroads, but now you see a figure approaching from over the horizon. Grim, determined, he walks with the steady pace of death. You know this man and secretly fear him.

"What day is it?" you suddenly ask, not sure why you're here. Shouldn't you be at home watching Ally McBeal?

"Silly, it's not a day, it's the Kali Yuga, don't you remember?" His eyes sparkle like fireflies, reflecting the light as it drips from your ceiling onto the soft-carpeted floor.

"Of course," you reply as you take his snakeskin hand. He leads you down the corridor, past the spare bedroom, past the bathroom, past the cupboard and into the living room.

"Surprise!" yells everyone simultaneously. They're all here: Alyson, Bloodhawk, Bretnor & Gabriel, Harry Stone, Atom Man, Professor Woland, your mum and dad, your sister and brother, the people you know at work, the children who used to tease you at school, your teachers, the postmen who delivered your letters, all the shopkeepers who ever served you, the men who saw you for a moment, perhaps on a train, and wished secretly that they could love you, the women who have always been secretly jealous of you, the men who would have killed you had they known you; everyone is here tonight for the party. You notice that one chair stands empty in the corner of the room. It is decorated with chicken feathers. For some reason you avoid it.

"I didn't know..." The words come with difficulty. Your husband presses close to you, close enough for you to feel the cotton of his shirt against the back of your hand.

"We wanted to surprise you. It's always better that way." He dons an ornate mask in the shape of your face. "Tonight I want you to call me Elenor." Everyone in the room kisses you and tells you how much they love you and how much they hate you. You're embarrassed but flattered that they could all make it at such short notice. You offer them some chardonnay from the bottle in your left hand.

So, you follow your husband into the kitchen where you find the priest who baptised you, fucking your primary school teacher on top of the sink. He wears a bull mask. She wears a cat mask. You nod politely, hoping you haven't put them off their stroke. Outside, the moon has melted silver across the road. Your husband whispers softly into your ear. "The Kali Yuga is coming. Soon. Very soon."

The Forest

Elenor stumbled backwards. The air felt soft around her, like honey. "Oh God... I don't think I should have taken..."

Elenor dropped to her knees, feeling suddenly very sick. The grass felt like silk. It washed around her bare legs, sucking her into its deep folds.

"We've got to get you to a hospital..." Herne kneeled down beside her, looking worried. He took hold of her shoulders and shook her. "Don't close your eyes."

"I can't..."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I can't close my eyes... I still see things... I can't close my eyes..."

The Travel Lodge

"I want to go with you," said Maya as Woland put his jacket on.

"Well you can't."

"Why not?" She paced around the empty room. The others were outside now, hot wiring cars, ready to pull out.

"Because I said so. Because I'm the pack leader. Rule one - everything I say is true. Rule two - never leave a member of the pack behind. Rule three - keep moving."

"I know all that."

"Then practice it. Something has gone wrong. Rule two - I'm going to find the Duke and bring him back. Rule three - the pack gets moving." Woland sniffed the air. It wouldn't be difficult to follow the girl's scent. He felt sure the Duke would have gone after her first.

"If something has happened to the Duke, I want to be with you."

"You can't. Rule one - everything I say is true." Woland turned to kiss Maya. They clung to each other, Maya licking Woland's face like an animal. "Go North," whispered Woland. "Scotland perhaps. I'll find you. Keep the pack safe until then."

"No," said Maya. She scratched his cheek until it bled. Woland looked at her darkly.

"You want to fight me? You want to fight me for leadership?"

"No."

"Then nothing has changed. You'll take everyone north and I'll find you. Believe me, I'll find you."

Woland turned away and walked towards the forest. He glanced at the watches strung out on his arm. They all read 2.14 am.

The Forest

Herne was out of breath. He'd been running flat out ever since Argent had got up and left. At the speed she was running he knew he couldn't possibly keep up, but maybe he might be able to find her before she did anything stupid.

"I'm going to end this," she'd said.

"You're going to a hospital," he'd said.

And then she laughed and left.

Herne was out of breath. He was running flat out, wondering why he even cared.

The Body

Woland pulled the arrow from the Duke's head. He span it around his fingers and then snapped it in half. He sniffed the air again. A new scent - a male, possibly in his late twenties. An unknown factor. Woland knelt down and folded the Duke's hands over his chest. He straightened the legs of the corpse, and turned its head so that it was looking upwards to the sky.

"We will remember you," he said to no one in particular. "You were of our flesh, our blood, a fierce hunter, and a man I was proud to call my brother. You saved Maya's life in Bristol, and I told you I would never forget that. The world is now a safer place for your passing. We shall miss you." Woland stood up, picked up a can of petrol and doused the body with it. "To all things an end, my friend." He lit a match and threw it down. There was a loud whoosh as the body ignited. Woland watched it burn for a few minutes before he turned and walked away.

Elenor

Elenor's mind was clear now as she ran in and around the trees. Quicker, faster, better, more than human. Muscle 9 drummed in her veins as she ran. Muscle 9 whispered to her 'No one can stop you - you are Wonder Woman, you are Flechette, you are Supergirl; you are a juggernaut. No one can stop you now.'

Elenor ran. The trees whipped past her. She covered miles in minutes. Woland was right. She wanted to hurt him - she wanted to feel the crunch of her fist in his face - she wanted to feel his bones break - to see snot and blood squirt from his nose. She wanted to smash the teeth from his mouth. The Muscle 9 pounded in the temples of her head. Elenor tasted copper in her mouth. Her fingers twitched as she pumped her arms, running faster and faster, feeling the adrenaline rush through her body.

And then she stopped. She tensed, smelling a new scent in the air. The forest was deathly quiet - not an animal stirred for miles. Elenor turned to her right and watched as Professor Woland emerged into the sunken glade. He looked at Elenor and smiled.

Professor Woland shrugged off his torn jacket, neatly folded it over his arm and hung it from a tree branch. He sniffed. "You've taken Muscle 7 haven't you?"

Elenor ground her teeth and flexed the fingers of both hands. She shuffled her feet, gouging a hole in the earth deep enough to bury a dog. "Nope. Muscle 9. You've just been out evolved, you bastard."

Woland removed all four of his watches and placed them carefully beside the tree. "And you think that makes you my equal? Hmm?" He looked up, seeing the first rays of the sun beginning to rise above the tree line. "You think it's that easy don't you - simply match me drug for drug."

Elenor walked slowly towards the Russian, measuring his movements, preparing herself for battle. She gathered her hair back in both hands and tied it in a ponytail.

"Before I ever took Muscle 7; before I became what I am now, I was a member of a UN special forces unit. I knew how to kill quickly and efficiently. I was the best they had. Muscle 7 gives you strength, stamina, speed and endurance, but it doesn't teach you to kill." Woland smiled, and his smile was like that of a fox eating shit through a wire brush. "I know how to kill. The question is, do you?"

"Try me." Elenor spat on the ground. "You bastard."

"Then we begin. And this time it's for real." Woland circled the girl, with the left side of his body turned towards her. He suddenly feinted, ducked low, kicked out Elenor's legs from under her, span round on his heel, kicked up at her face as she began to fall, and missed as she flipped backwards.

"Good." Woland backed away, just in time as Elenor regained her feet. They were now thirteen feet apart. He ran at her, punched with his left, saw it blocked, evaded her follow up blow, span round, kicked the inside of her right knee with the heel of his foot and smacked her in the back of the neck with the palm of his right hand. Elenor had thrown herself forward and saved herself from a broken neck. As she fell forward, she landed hands first and kicked backwards. Woland seized her left ankle, span her suddenly round in the air and kicked her spine as she fell down.

Elenor knew she should be in agony from that blow. From the floor, she locked her ankles around Woland's feet and pulled him down. Woland rolled upon contact with the ground and sprang immediately back up in time to see Elenor swinging a series of snap punches his way. They blocked, locked arms, sprang apart, circled each other, engaged, kicked, punched, and divided again.

"Not so easy now, is it?" hissed Elenor. She heard the lisp in her voice and placed her hand to her mouth, unsure why. A loose tooth came free in her hand. She looked at it bewildered, and felt another that was broken in half.

Woland laughed. "You didn't even see me hit you. You certainly didn't feel it. The side of your face would be black in the morning when the Muscle 9 wore off, except for the fact that you'll be dead by then. Dead and feeding the worms."

Elenor wiped the blood from her mouth and held out her clenched left fist for Woland to see.

"What?" Woland crouched ready to spring.

Elenor opened her hand slowly. Inside she held a piece of someone's ear, bloodied and fresh. Woland placed his hand to the side of his face and felt something missing. His eyes grew as black as Hell.

"Like I said... not so easy is it? You bastard..."

"You die," said Woland, very quietly, as he lowered his blood stained hand. "You die." He moved like lightning, punching Elenor in the stomach and face, beating her to the left and to the right. He felt his knuckles crunch into bone, felt matted hair and skin sticking to his fist as he pounded her head three times. Elenor fell back against a tree, blood and snot spraying from her nose. She was laughing and screaming as she punched him back. Woland's head snapped back with the force of her blow. He felt his swollen right eye close up as he delivered a series of snap punches to her kidneys. Internal bleeding would be taking place by now, regardless of Muscle 9. Woland punched her in the chest so hard that he felt one of his own knuckles dislocate against her rib cage. Elenor slashed with her right hand and pulled a strip of Woland's cheek away. She boxed his ears with the force of a thunderclap, dropping him to the floor for a few seconds, just long enough to drive her knee hard into his throat.

They staggered back, putting several metres between themselves for a moment. Elenor spat out the tip of Woland's nose from her mouth. Woland discarded a chunk of her long blonde hair, still attached to a small piece of her scalp. Elenor suddenly realised her breasts were exposed. The top half of her costume had been torn away and now hung in strips over her utility belt. She didn't give it a second thought as she limped towards Woland. Limped? She looked down at her disobedient foot - it was sticking out at an unnatural angle, though it didn't hurt at all.

"You should see yourself now," sneered Woland as he pressed his hand to his face to staunch the bleeding. "This is what fighting is really like. This is how I live."

Elenor took another step forward and then it happened again...

Three

So then, what can I do for you?

And of course you hesitate, because what you have to say is very personal and even though I'm your doctor... well, let's be frank, we hardly know each other do we? I mean we only ever see each other when you're ill. What kind of basis is that for the start of a proper meaningful relationship, Elenor?

I like your breasts by the way.

"I... I know this sounds very silly, doctor, but I've been suffering from a series of recurring nightmares."

Perfect. So trite, so clichéd; I couldn't have written it better myself. Such is the wonder of free will. But please, do go on.

Your hands rest in your lap, while your eyes gaze up at the ceiling as you recount your sorry tale of phantom visitors, dark figures, signposts, crossroads and the Kali Yuga. Ah yes, the Kali Yuga.

It's coming to an end very soon now.

"The strangest part is that I seem to have a husband in these dreams."

I see. I scribble a few notes in rough in the margin of my notebook. You try to see what I've written but my handwriting is virtually illegible. Just as well really as I'm writing your next line of dialogue.

"It's been five nights now and it's really beginning to worry me."

Why? I ask. I pause with my pencil hovering above my clean crisp slate. The question takes you aback - I'm sorry. With fluttering fingers I complete your next sentence.

"Well, it doesn't seem normal does it?"

I smile to reassure you because after all I am your doctor and you can trust me, can't you? Here. I give you a bottle of brightly coloured tablets. Take three every day before going to bed, then come and see me again next Thursday. I turn my attention back to my notes as all doctors do when they want their patients to say 'thank you' and leave the room. It's my way of saying "we're finished now. The Kali Yuga is coming to an end, so piss off." But no, you're still there.

"They look like Smarties," you say in your posh, English, off hand manner. Very astute. I knew you'd show promise from the very first day I brought you kicking and screaming into this world like a newborn baby. How small you were then. Small and frightened, but look at you now - haloed in white light - you're magnificent!

You'll even find the tablets taste like Smarties. We do try to make medicine as palatable as possible these days.

Goodbye.

Cheerio.

Nice legs.

Now then. I think it's time for you to wake up. Otherwise you're about to be killed.

I click my fingers.

The Duel

Woland took the opportunity to smack his fist into Elenor's face as she stood there gazing into space. Her head cracked back against the tree. He hit her a second time, spat into her face and chopped at her nose with the side of his hand. Elenor dropped to the floor.

The final stage of the fight was being observed from the other side of the glade. Herne was out of breath, having run flat out to catch up with Elenor. He watched as Woland lifted her limp body and threw her up into the air as high as he could. She cleared a good twenty-five feet before gravity took hold again. Woland seized her ankle as soon as she fell within reach, and span her body around into a tree, before letting her fall. Herne pulled an arrow from his quiver and notched it to his bow, judging the wind direction as he gauged the distance to Woland's head.

Two men emerged from the other side of the clearing. Bretnor and Gabriel were still very much alive and in possession of new firearms. Herne watched as they aimed their pistols at Woland.

"Leave her alone!" shouted Gabriel.

"Drop the girl or we'll fire!" added Bretnor.

Woland had scooped Elenor up and was now holding her by the throat. He quickly whipped her limp body in front of his own as a shield. He turned to face the two Orbital agents as they ran down the slope, away from the trees, their guns trained on him.

"Your last warning!" shouted Gabriel as he circled Woland.

"I don't think so." Woland took his first step backwards. "I'm going to remember you - both of you, and one night when you're coming back from a bar, I'll be waiting in the shadows for you." He grinned.

"Oh, fuck this!" Gabriel raised his gun and fired three shots. Herne watched as two of the bullets hit Argent, and the third hit a surprised Woland.

Gabriel carried on firing, but now the wounded Woland was moving. Another shot clipped his leg, tearing a chunk of meat from his thigh. Another bullet hit Elenor in her ass.

Herne aimed his bow and fired. The shaft flew through the chill spring air and hit Gabriel in the shoulder. He fell back, stunned. Bretnor span round and saw the archer emerging from the tree line. He fired two shots which both missed at long range. A second arrow hit Bretnor in the left leg. Bretnor fell with a loud yelp.

Now Herne turned his attention to the limping Woland who was almost within reach of the tree line himself. Herne aimed a third arrow very carefully and watched as it struck the Russian's wrist. Elenor's body feel to the floor. Woland wasted no time in leaping the final distance towards the trees. Before Herne could notch a fourth arrow to his bow, Woland was gone.

"Don't make me shoot you." Herne aimed his bow at Bretnor as he walked slowly down the slope into the glade. Bretnor was lying on the ground, an arrow in his leg, and his pistol aimed at the archer. "I can kill you at this distance. You may or may not be able to hit me first time with that pistol. It's your call." Herne watched the man's eyes.

"You are in deep shit," yelled Bretnor. "You've just shot two policemen!"

"And your partner just shot that girl. You would have killed her if I hadn't shot him."

"Fuck you!" Bretnor continued to aim his gun. "We're the fucking law around here!"

"No you're not." Herne moved towards Elenor, keeping his bow aimed all the time. He was confident Bretnor's first shot would miss. He knew his wouldn't. "You're in my country now - far away from the city. Your rules don't apply here. You don't get any SWAT team backup in a forest. It's just your gun against my bow, and my bow says you'd better drop that gun right about now."

"Like fuck I will" Blood was soaking through Bretnor's trouser leg. It was an awful lot of blood.

"I'll kill you if I have to," said Herne. "One shot, straight to the head. Put your gun down." He stood beside Elenor's broken body.

The two men stared at each other over a distance of thirty-five feet. Dawn was just beginning to peek over the horizon. The forest birds were beginning to sing their morning song.

"Your last chance," said Herne.

"Your last chance," snarled Bretnor. It really was an awful lot of blood. He could feel how warm it was.

Elenor raised her head from the floor and opened one bloodied eye. "Please, don't do this." It wasn't apparent whom she was addressing.

Bretnor stared at Herne. He squeezed his grip on the trigger.

Herne stared at Bretnor. He tensed his bowstring, ready to let go.

Argent stared at both men and made her decision. She opened her mouth and, in a broken voice, sang a single note. Bretnor went down as if he'd been smacked in the face with a shovel.

"I can't..." Elenor coughed up some blood and another tooth. "I can't feel my legs..."

Herne surveyed the scene. He scooped Elenor up into his arms and kissed her gently on her pulped lips. "Hush," he said.

"I'm... dying aren't I?" said Elenor softly.

"Hush."

"I... can't feel my legs..."

"Everything's going to be all right."