“In local news, an unidentified meta-human wreaks havoc this evening on a small, local church. We have Donna Grey live on the scene. Donna?”

A young blonde with artful makeup and a maroon pant-suit materialized on screen. Behind her was chaos as news crews crowded around spectators who crowded around police barriers which encompassed the wreckage of a very old and once elegant-looking church. Now the building had a gaping hole in one wall, the size of a Volvo. Emergency lights sliced through the evening in alternating red and blue. She spoke loud over the noise around her.

“Thank you, Tom. At approximately five thirty this afternoon, witnesses reported seeing a large man throw a car through the window of the Saints Peter and Paul Lutheran Church in the three-hundred block of 23rd Avenue in Bankhurst. As you can see behind me, the car (a small, two-door coupe) completely destroyed the beautiful stain glass window and most of the North wall of this small church. The vehicle was unoccupied at the time, but seven victims inside the church at the time of the incident were taken by ambulance to the Hudson City Memorial Hospital: there is no word on their condition. Damage is estimated at almost a hundred thousand dollars.

“Police are on the hunt tonight for a white male, early thirties, over six foot tall, three hundred pounds, wearing a blue hooded sweatshirt...”

A rough black and white pencil sketch appeared next to Donna on screen.

“If you have any information regarding his identity or whereabouts, please call Hudson City Local 12 Crime Stoppers at the number at the bottom of your screen immediately.”

The screen split between Donna and Tom, back at the station.

“Donna, have they given any indication as to what provoked him?”

“No, Tom, they haven’t. Police are being unusually tight-lipped about this, but from what we can tell by talking to witnesses, he was just passing by when he inexplicably lifted... Oh, wait a second. It looks like they’re pulling the car out now.”

The camera panned expertly. Zommed. Refocused. A tow truck which had been backed up to the hole in the church began pulling slowly forward and, like extracting a bullet from a wound, the mangled remains of a blue car crept into view.

“Yes, Tom, we have a good view of it now. It appears to be... yes, Tom, it is a Kia!”

“So, Donna, he lifted it?”

“Yes, Tom, as I understand it, he actually hoisted the entire car above his head...”

There was a sudden commotion off camera. The image jolted, then panned quickly away from the car to where the crowd was converging nearby. Police struggled to maintain them.

Tom, back at the station, encouraged: “Donna...?”

“Um, just a moment, Tom. It looks like... Police are escorting three people towards the building now. Let’s see if we can get a comment.”

8:15pm, Bankhurst

They arrived almost at the same time, well after dark. Angelo called once more to tell them he’d phoned in a favor and the police on the scene were expecting them. More than likely, this meant he paid a healthy sum of money to someone of authority with questionable morale merit.

Ophilia had regained her composure by the time she arrived at the scene. She got out of her conservative Mercedes and ran a hand down her light cream business suit, smoothing any wrinkles out of her skirt before they had a chance to set. She could immediately sense Bastian's presence in the crowd and joined him.

"Hey. We're going to have to let JACE deal with the press. I had no idea it had blown up like this already." Bastian knew her well enough to know that despite her level tone she was irritated that the world wasn't falling into the specified plans that she had outlined in her head.

"As you wish" he said with a small smile and a nod, walking beside her through the crowd. Sebastián had made it to the scene before his sister, which was a bit surprising. She had been extremely anxious when they spoke earlier, he would have thought she'd have been practically flying to get here. Having some spare moments before she arrived, Sebastián roamed on the fringe of what could only be described as a circus, gauging the general feel of the people. He knew already that tonight wasn't going to be pleasant, he just wished his hunches weren't right most of the time.

The pretty brunette, smiled warmly at the police officer as he made his way over to them, and introduced herself. "I'm Ophilia DiSantiago, and this is Sebastian, we're here to help with our Company's community outreach program. If you could take JACE into the crime area, we'll be content to stay out here for now until things calm down."

The officer greeted them before the crowd realized what was going on, but his fortune was short lived and soon they were swarmed. He tried his best to escort them towards the church.

“Isn’t that JACE?”

“Who is that with him?”

“OMG! She is hawt!”

“Are they supers?”

Someone caught JACE by the crook of his arm and he turned. It was a young blonde reporter, vaguely familiar. She launched into action. “Mister JACE, any leads on the suspect? Do you know who did this?”

JACE automatically smiled pleasantly at the reporter and faced the camera. He deliberately ignored the Mister slight, blaming it on the reporter's obvious stupidity. With plenty of practice, he treated her like she was the most important thing in the world to him, rather than an annoying nobody interfering with his work. "I can't really comment on anything right now. I've just arrived to start my investigation. As always, I'll be happy to let you know what I've discovered, so long as it doesn't interfere with stopping the mad man who did this." His gaze and gesture encompassed the crowd. "We all have to focus on what is most important right now. Making sure the injured get help, and making sure no more innocent people get injured."

Gently disengaging her arm, with a personal polite smile, JACE waved at the crowd, then turned back to the crime scene. It was time to go to work and find out who or what this Apostate was.

JACE was escorted roughly through the crowd, dodging curious onlookers and eager reporters until he crossed through the yellow tape. There he met with the city's finest, in the form of Detective Michaels with the HCPD, Special Crimes division. Michaels (presumably Angelo's contact) was short, round, unshaven, and especially grumpy, even for a jaded veteran, but gave up everything the police had at that point. Which wasn't much. JACE was unimpressed, as he'd expected, to hear a report with as much detail as the eleven o'clock news.

A large male with enhanced strength, at the very least, inexplicably launched a small car through a church wall. Witnesses describe him as tall and broad, but slouched as if encumbered, wearing a blue sweatshirt with a hood. He made a hasty exit after the incident, and was last seen headed south-west.

"It was a goddam Kia," said Michaels, sideways, chewing on an unlit cigarette. "My wife's got one of them. Piece of Korean shit if you ask me."

He turned to JACE. Whether he was simply unimpressed by supers, or offended at having to share the case in general, his mood was the same. "We're pulling the prints off the car, but we don't have much more than that." He grunted. "Got big goddamn feet, if that helps. Fuckin' twelve and a half's, man. That's a big guy."

JACE nodded vaguely at the Detective as he scanned the scene. Inane chatter was not what he was looking for. To be honest, he wasn't sure what he was looking for. He was a scientist, not a detective. Certainly there were others whose time was much less valuable. One of them should be here while JACE was working on important projects in the lab. Still, it was quite possible, even probable, that he was the only intelligent person on the team. He would do his best, which was very good indeed. He smiled at the detective, while his eyes roamed the scene.

"Yes, Detective, that is a rather large shoe size, although not useful for a definitive analysis, it might help find him. To business, then. I would like to have a look at the car as well as where he was standing when he threw it." Moving carefully, to avoid stepping on any clues, JACE headed towards the car.

What remained of the subcompact car was little more compact and a lot less car. The front and back ends had crumpled beyond recognition. Both doors were gone. Windows as well. And three out of four wheels. One axle poked out at a funny angle like a fractured bone. At this point, it likely weighed less than half of its original mass. Two massive handprints had permanently crushed the frame and undercarriage.

"It was parked over here," the detective said from behind him, indicating the curb. JACE didn't even have to turn. His HUD had already calculated the probable trajectory of the vehicle, based on its weight and the damage to the building. Whoever this guy was, he had hoisted the car and launched it almost fifty feet through the air without taking so much as a step.

But he did turn, and eventually made his way back to the curb. A single boot print was embedded in the thin grass median between the cracked sidewalk and the street. It was a running shoe, common make, the swoosh emblem in the print. Nothing fancy except the size.

"Choir practice," said the detective simply. "Goddamn sicko."

JACE looked at the car, or what was left of it. He then considered the footprint carefully, especially the distance thrown. He estimated the man was more than 100 times as strong as JACE's armor on full strength enhancement. Other than that, there were few clues to find.

"Indeed, officer, obviously a violently disturbed individual. Whether he is delusional or destructive for the joy of it, he needs to be stopped. You've been very helpful." At least as helpful as a hangnail, JACE added silently, if this is an example of the police in this city, it's no surprise they have a crime problem. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, we need to find him," the armored hero added out loud.

Stepping away from the detective, he activated his comm unit. "JACE to Ms. DiSantiago. I've gathered what information is available here. If you are done smiling for the cameras, I believe it is time to go in pursuit."

As JACE took center stage, Ophilia took the opportunity to wind her way out of the crowd, confident that Bastian would join her when he could.

The siblings met up a few moments later, exchanged brief greetings, and surveyed the scene. It was chaotic, but the police were keeping the crowd at a reasonable distance and the press mostly at bay. The church looked awful in the dark, like a corpse. The only lights were the industrial spot-lights that forensics used while they combed and cleaned up. They spotted their armored counterpart amongst the blue and white uniforms up front, talking to a stout man in a trench coat.

Their anonymity was short lived. The blond reporter who had found JACE was making her way over to them. Even if they could avoid her, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the press identified them.

"Miss DiSantiago! Just a couple of questions!" the reporter called out as she neared. Expertly and without pause, she launched in before she could be shunned again. "Tell us, what is your family's interest here this evening?"

Ophilia braced herself and allowed her well practiced smile to illuminate her face. She knew when she was trapped and the quickest way out of this was to get it over and done with. "I'm here on behalf of our new community outreach program that has been instituted by the newest branch of DiSantiago Pharmaceuticals. A portion of our profits will be returned to the city and tonight we were very concerned about what happened to Saints Peter and Paul Lutheran Church. Many of our employees and their families have made this place their spiritual home. We are here to help in any way we can to rebuild both the Church and the trust that it represents to the families that choose to worship here."

"And your connection with the hero known as JACE...?"

"JACE and DiSantiago Pharmaceuticals have enjoyed a mutually beneficial relationship for some time. He is a brilliant scientist and has been one of their most valued employees. He is one of those rare individuals that puts the welfare of the people before himself and his private time. We knew that he would want to know about the situation and aid in finding the responsible party." Inwardly, Ophilia was feeling sick as she spewed lie after lie that bathed Jonathan in a positive light.

Swallowing past the bad taste in her mouth, she smiled at the cameras and tried to exit the spotlight. "If you'll please excuse me, I have to take this." She flipped open her cell phone.

"JACE to Ms. DiSantiago. I've gathered what information is available here. If you are done smiling for the cameras, I believe it is time to go in pursuit."

"Of course. Try to get out if you can, I'm sure Sebastian will have an idea soon of what happened."

JACE didn't bother to respond to her. Instead he smiled at the detective and people around. "I'll need some space. It's time for me to go catch this maniac before he can endanger anyone else." The power-suited hero moved to a relatively clear spot before activating his flight jets. With a muted roar, JACE took off and headed in the direction the officer had indicated this 'Apostate' had gone.

Epoch seized this moment to get a clear view of the carnage. Then, in reverse, from the vantage point of a passerby. The bricks lifted from the ground. Shards of brightly colored glass splintered together, fitting into the window. The car slipped out, uncrumpled, flew backwards through the air until it landed, perfectly, solidly, in the hands of someone familiar, even at this angle. He set the car down. Stood and began to walk backwards.

Sebastian watched as the Apostate retreated the way he had come. His face was twisted with warring emotion, but it was him.

Again, forward. The Apostate stared at the church for a long time. The hymn was familiar to him. Familiar, but offensive. He crouched, hoisted the car above his head, flexed as if a massive coiled spring, and launched it through the window: a stained glass replica of an angel. Then, head down, torn even now incomprehensible suffering, he jogged in giant leaps down the street.

Sebastián blinked his eyes a couple times, as his focus shifted into the present time. Ophilia was busy doing her PR thing, but he needed to tell her what he saw. Outwardly appearing to study the wreckage, he thought over to her.

{Phi, this is bad. He's got a serious mad going on. He came up, stared at the church for a while, listening to a hymn coming from inside. Something about the song he didn't like though. Not as in change the radio station didn't like, I'm talking rip the stereo out of the car didn't like. After that he decided to make a little renovation to this church, so he picked up the car, and tossed it through the stained glass angel. I know which direction he was headed, if you want me to head that way.}

{Let JACE know what direction he went. Wait for me though, we should take your car...I don't want to be walking through this neighborhood at night. This is so much worse than last time, we've got to get him before...} Her thought trailed off but he already knew what she was thinking.

{Ok, I'm not sure how you expect us to get out of this madhouse without someone stopping or following us, but I'm ready to go as soon as you are.}

"JACE to Sebastian. Do you have any clearer picture of his location or direction?"

Sebastián's cell phone chirped, and he walked off, abit away from the reporters to answer it. Hearing JACE's voice, and knowing full well how powerful some of the reporter's microphones were, Sebastián chose his words carefully.

"Dr. DiSantiago speaking. Hello Dr. Amada, yes I am familiar with the patient you are referring to. When last I saw him, he was in an extremely disturbed emotional state, I am told his last outburst had been brought on by a song he had over heard. Yes, I'm afraid you are right, his health is heading south, and swiftly to be sure. Yes, continue with that course of treatment, I'm just about finished up here and I'll be in to see you shortly. No problem, talk to you soon."

Sebastián closed his phone, hoping that he hadn't been to obvious to those listening in.

Once Ophilia found herself outside the media and the onlookers, she pulled out her phone and dialed Elijah's number. Unsure of whether or not he would pick up the phone, or if he even had it on him, but hopeful that she could somehow establish contact.