Edison Palmer navigated the stairs leading down, somewhat clumsily, holding onto the ancient hand rail as he went. The lighting was poor here and the steps were creaky with age, not at all in good repair like the upper two levels of the club. With each step down, he began sinking back into the vision, deeper and deeper, making the real world almost invisible. There was a new mood to this spectral reality, an unsettling sense that something was waiting below. He nervously tugged at the good luck charm under his shirt and found it cold to the touch.

Ardent and Stacey watched raptly as the patrons of the Succubus Club meandered between the dance floor and the bar area in front of them. The bar was hopping with a steady stream of people being juggled by two competent bar tenders. The dance floor was harder to see, the strobe lights flickered chaotically and slithered over the dancers. The women in aviator goggles and spiked boots continued to writhe seductively in their cages, and everything seemed exactly the same.

De’Roy Harris, D-Train as he was known on the street, was nearly out of breath when he tripped and fell on the roof. Still, he had been lucky to make it up the stairs with his pants half-on. The former All-City running back felt bits of gravel bite into his knee and the hand he caught himself with. He pushed himself off the ground, scared for his life. His heart beating so loud, his breath so ragged that he didn’t notice the crunch of asphalt and gravel crunch under booted foot.

Cough. One silenced round came spitting out of the end of the vigilante’s pistol.

Soldier Boy had no problems remaining unseen, even without his years of stealth operations, nothing could have torn the Nubian's eyes off of the ominous form of Shift. Raven remained front and center, but somehow she too was hidden in plain sight. Static electricity was simmering in the air above the rooftops, bolts and streams of light played in the sky, running horizontally above them, in a most unnatural display.

For Martin Carver, it was a day like any other. He woke at precisely five o'clock. He showered for exactly seven and a half minutes (lather, rinse, repeat). He dressed in a perfectly pressed, navy blue suit. Today he selected the red tie. It was a Wednesday.

Advisory. This piece contains nudity and graphic violence.

Fabian took great care as he strapped Celeste to the surgical table, his movements were steadied and unhurried. He strapped her lifeless arms and legs and double checked each of her bonds, even though there was little to no chance that she would ever feel the floor beneath her feet again. No one had ever survived his purification process, the savior could never wait for his gift, and sometimes took them before they were completely cleansed.

It was the longest walk of her life. And one she would not soon forget. As they moved north, away from the Numbers, and crossed over from Freetown into Riverside Hills, Ophilia felt a wave of relief. Not that she felt especially safe in Riverside, certainly not at this hour, but it was different here -- for some reason, she felt like the worst was behind her.

The woman he assumed was Shante lay cold and lifeless across a neatly made bed in the room down the hall. Untouched food and a glass of water were nearby. He stood over her for a moment before turning his attention to the room. He saw no visible signs of struggle and no evidence of drug use from the areas he could see of her exposed arms and legs. The only thing that might have fit the scenario was that maybe she had been overpowered and suffocated with a pillow.

Soldier Boy and Raven were Running the Numbers, that was the slang term that Freetowners used for those brave enough, strong enough or street smart enough to survive walking through that section of town. The Numbers was, arguably, the most dangerous part of Freetown, nearly two miles of housing projects, where the people in the lower levels were more likely to sleep on their floor at night than in their bed. Drive by shootings and gang wars was the life for those unfortunate enough to live there, terrified by the hold that the rivaling gangs held on their everyday life.

“Come on come on come on!” Nemesis leapt across another alley and skidded to a halt on the building, the gravel and roofing detritus almost taking his feet out from under him. He stopped to catch his breath a moment—running, jumping and vaulting sixteen blocks took a lot out of a man. He shook his head and pulled off his mask for a moment. Sweat plastered his hair around the temples and forehead. He wiped at his face and forced himself to take several long, slow, deep breaths. He checked his watch and shook his head.

Ardent could feel the pulse of the sidewalk under his feet as they approached the address of the Succubus Club. If it hadn't been for Stacey, he would have never suspected to find a college club in a building that looked this old and derelict. The entrance to the club was located in an alleyway and the signage on the door showed the visage of a large breasted demonic woman, drawn in blood red.

When he finally woke, he wasn’t sure just how long he’d been asleep. Three or four hours. Maybe longer. The infant, Magdalene, was stirring, rooting for another feeding. They lay under a footbridge somewhere on the edge of Hudson City Park, but it could have been an apocalyptic version of Eden. Dawn was still hours away.

9:00pm

South, Sebastian said, so south JACE went. But south where? He crossed over the Stewart, but felt like he was flying blind. The proverbial needle in the haystack and JACE was wasting his time.

JACE sighed. Although he enjoyed flying, he would much rather be in his lab, modifying the ebola virus to make it less infectious and more deadly. He was convinced it would make the perfect addition to his arsenal, if he could just get it to respond properly to gene re-sequencing.

Edison Palmer strode down North Jefferson towards the river, away from the leading edge of gentrification represented by the cluster of galleries around 26th Avenue. There were pay phones closer by - and by old habit, Edison knew them all - but the one he had in mind was more isolated.

Raven’s alabaster skin stood out in stark contrast to her surroundings as she paced down The Needle. The Needle was located in Lafayette between Parsons Avenue and Pander Street. If there was a worse place for a beautiful white woman to find herself in all of Hudson City, it would have been impossible to find. The street gangs there had no tolerance for any skin color other than black. Whites and Hispanics both respected that rule, and when they didn’t, there was a bullet ready to welcome them.