MILLENNIUM MAN #9
"Born On The 11th Of September/Discussion IV"
(A Nation Of Immigrants Act III)
By Jacob Milnestein

"I don't see much future for the Americans. Everything about the behaviour of the American society reveals that it's half judaised, and the other half is negrified. How can one expect a state like that to hold together?"
- Adolf Hitler
 

<p>"Oh, Jesus Christ." She whispered, dropping her handbag to the cold ground and running towards the prone figure lying silent upon a table of aged wood. Jeremy stood uncomfortable in the doorway of the apartment, framed by the light of the hallway and shuffling from one foot to the other. She whimpered silently, warm tears running down her cheeks, falling uselessly upon the smooth, cold flesh of his chest.

She looked up, catching the sharp white eyes of the tall stranger towering over her fallen boyfriend's body, his ashen robes dancing slowly in the gentle winds.

"I-Is he.?" She whispered.

The other shook his head.

"He is not dead, Miss Darling nor will he die should I be allowed to continue my work." He announced solemnly.

"W-Who are you?" She stammered.

A brief smile played across his face.

"My name is Aristotle Licuan, I hope you will consider me a friend."

Regina glanced back at the awkward 16-year-old standing in the doorway who nodded his approval.

"He was there when the guy in the mask took Michael out. We came running down the street to get to him but this guy got there first. He seems okay, said he wanted to heal Michael...I figured that might be better than getting ambulances and hospitals involved."

Regina turned back to look at the other, dark bags visible beneath her eyes and a slight tremble in her voice.

"You promise me you can make him alright?" She asked. "You promise this isn't some mystical superhero nonsense that's going to force him to share bodies with some female scientist or make him turn into a big green monster every time he gets angry."

Aristotle nodded, his thick lips curling in a smile.

"I promise, Miss Regina."

She looked at him for a moment longer and then nodded her agreement. "Just make sure he's all right." She whispered.

The other bowed slightly.

"Buddha's name be praised. Now please, what is about to happen my unsettle you, if I could just ask you to wait outside."

She nodded and turning with a last glimpse back at Manly's mutilated body, she walked out towards the hallway and stood waiting, her eyes closed tightly in an attempt to hold back the tears.

* * *

Julia reached over for her cigarettes, brushing away the strands of out-of-place hair from her face. With a scowl she sat up and remove one of the thin white sticks from the crumpled and worn box, sparking her lighter and inhaling deeply. Streams of smoke rose through the darkened room, dancing fervently in the light left by her partner's inability to draw the curtains properly.

Trevor Mason grunted and coughed, looking up with bleary and stupid eyes and a stupid smile.

Julia inhaled deeply from her cigarette and looked down at him with contempt.

"What are you so happy about?" She snapped.

Trevor shrugged and continued to beam like an idiot.

"Oh nothing," He answered, trying his best to sound casual and relaxed. "I'm just feeling pretty smug right about now."

"Well don't." Julia snapped. "This is a business arrangement."

Trevor yawned and sprawled out, pushing irritatingly close against her in the cramped confines of the double bed she usually shared her with her boyfriend. She scowled with deep distaste and shook her head.

"One of these days someone's going to find out what you're really like, Trevor and they're going to make your life hell." She warned.

"Yeah, yeah." He murmured absently. "Who's that going to be then? You? Regina Darling? Denise Delgado? Don't make me laugh."

Julia smiled darkly to herself.

"Don't be so overconfident." She said, the pleasant image of the older man's humiliation and disgrace drifting into her mind. She smiled broadly and filed the image away for later reflection. "Did Darling or Delgado ever know what was happening with us?" She asked, trying to sound more curious than probing.

Trevor shook his head with confidence. "No chance. The only thing those two could ever think about co-ordinating is handbags and shoes." He laughed a short, hollow sounding kind of laugh and looked back at the younger woman, his expression suddenly fixed in all seriousness. "Do you know how gullible these people are? I've known these people all my life and they still haven't learnt a single thing. When I was 16 I took Victoria Burke to a school dance. It was a social kind of thing, it didn't really matter that she was 2 years younger than me, because the whole point of it was to make sure she was there, and that she was noticed.
"I got the dubious honour of taking her round all these people and showing her off as she was some porcelain doll, trying to install some sort of respect for this pale looking 14 year old kid. At the end of the night I even got to shake Henry Burke's hand.

"Anyway, about half way through the night things start to get really slow so I suggest we pop outside for a little while. Poor little Vicky just nods in mute agreement and doesn't say anything - in fact we hardly spoke at all during that whole night. Every conversation we had I had to initiate. I don't know whether it was arrogance or respect but touting that girl round all these people and trying to get them to like her was all but impossible when she wouldn't say a word.

"But I digress, so we're standing outside in an alleyway a short distance from the dancehall that this do is being held in and I spark up a joint, right. I offer some to little Vicky and at first she seems a bit shocked but eventually she gives in. After a while she starts getting all goofy and excitable, at starts telling me all this stupid stuff about her parents, stuff that I really don't care about so in order to shut her up I grab hold of her and kiss her. I'm pretty far-gone myself at this point and at first she's like all
'No, don't do this' but eventually she gets into the idea.

"So we're having sex like up against the wall in this alleyway and all of sudden she starts screaming out 'Daddy! Daddy!' and I thought she was calling for help and stuff so immediately I try and pull out but instead she grabs hold of me and holds me there, like urging me on and shit, all the while she's crying and shouting 'Daddy' at me.

"Once we finished we both pulled ourselves together and headed back into the hall and didn't say anything about it but as I stood there shaking hands with Henry Burke I realised one thing.

"I wasn't the first person to have been there."

Julia sat there staring at him.

"Jesus Christ, Trevor, you raped her." She whispered quietly.

He turned and looked genuinely hurt.

"No I didn't." He protested. "She stopped me from pulling out."

"She said no and you continued regardless. You sick bastard, Trevor."

Trevor Mason threw his hands up in the air.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let's not lose sight of the story here. She liked it and she stopped me from leaving. Doesn't matter whether she wasn't as into at first as I was, she wanted me to stay there...besides, like I said I wasn't the first person who'd been with her."

"Oh yeah, the 'Daddy' shit. You honestly expect me to believe Henry Burke might have screwed his own daughter? No chance, the guy was a superhero and stuff."

"I'm not saying that good old Hank did anything, all I'm saying is that she'd had sex before I got there and seemed to have an abnormal fixation with her father - I leave you to come to your own conclusions on the rest of the stuff."

Julia took a long drag on her cigarette before exhaling slowly and grinding the butt out in the stained ashtray on the bedside table. "You think there's any money in the story?" She asked carefully.

Trevor looked carefully over at her. "Not by itself." He said slowly. "First off we need to find out which superhero Henry Burke was and that's going to be easier said than done."

Julia smiled. "You're an idiot, Trevor."

He scowled at her. "What?"

"Finding out who Burke was is going to be easier than you think. I'm a nurse, remember?"

"And what good does that do us?" Mason protested.

She sighed and reached out for her purse, throwing it down hard against his stomach.

He grunted and slowly picked the purse up, flipping through her cards before finally coming to a small unassuming identity card containing a photograph, bar code and the following words:

Squire, J.

He scowled once more and then looked beneath the barcode and the words that read:

This card property of Alhazred Asylum.

With a smile he turned and looked at her.

"Julia Squire," He beamed. "I think I love you."

* * *

Nausea overwhelmed him.

There was a voice somewhere in the distance, somewhere far away.

He coughed and felt his stomach lurch, his chin damp with vomit.

He had dreamt he was somewhere else, standing alone upon the shores of an endless beach, black sand burning beneath his feet.

Slowly Michael Manly opened his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mister Manly." A voice purred from beyond his range of vision.

"W-who are you?" He whispered, wincing as he did. It felt like he'd swallowed razor blades, sharp metal cutting deep into his throat whenever he tried to speak. Slowly he looked about him, felt the cold air blowing in from behind and knew that he was in his own apartment, the shattered window and, presumably, his guest standing directly behind him. From the hallway he heard the murmur of voices and caught the glimpse of shadow and movement that indicated others waiting outside. He frowned, dread knotting in his stomach. There were two of them...one was a woman, the other a man...with a pained sigh he relaxed as he finally recognised the shape of the shadows. Even Regina being here was at least some kind of reassurance.

His eyes flicked away from the hallway and he resisted the urge to try turning in order to see his curious guest.

"You'll feel a little disorientated for the next few hours." The other continued, ignoring Manly's previous question.

And then, with sudden clarity the past leapt up to meet him.

His right foot twitched and then he could feel it no more as bullet number eight tore it from the ankle, making way for bullet nine as it hit in the back of his knee and blew the leg clean off.

Desperately he hauled himself up and stared down at his right foot. It was still there, still connected to his ankle and still very much a part of him.

"W-What.?" He murmured.

"Fortunately the image of yourself retained in your subconscious before you passed out was very much an image of yourself as a whole person rather than the dying man our friend Liebowitz left you as. Because of this it was relatively simple to bring your physical being into line with your subconscious self-image. Of course if you'd been more aware of the extent of your injuries then I would not have been able to heal you because that would have effected your self-perception."

Manly turned slowly to face the voice, his eyes falling upon a tall man with a shaved head, thin ashen  robes hanging loosely over the contours of his dark skin.

He smiled a brilliant and disarming smile of perfect white teeth. "Good evening, Mister Manly," He said and held out his hand. "I'm Aristotle Licuan. I've heard a lot about you."

* * *

Jian Li tightened the bandages around his fists, his eyes staring blankly out over a city he no longer felt he belonged to. He turned away, angry with himself more than anything and set his mind to getting dressed. The black gi was old but it still fit although perhaps not as comfortably as it had all those years ago. He didn't want to be seen tonight or, to be more precise, he didn't want the Silver Shadow to be seen. What Greene had said had irked him, even more so that he himself hadn't noticed.
Attracting this much attention was never part of the plan, especially not when innocent people, good people were suffering because of him.

He had asked too much of Ling, he knew that now. And how many others? How many others had come over from China or from Hong Kong to make sure that his identity was protected? Each one of them had a life, a past and a future and, unknowingly, Jian Li Fong had asked them to give all that up to live amongst a foreign people in a foreign city that they could never truly belong to just because he felt like playing the hero.

He tightened the bandages once more and cursed silently beneath his breath, feeling both angry and frustrated. Turning once more to the window, he lifted it high, allowing the night air to filter in. Downstairs he could hear the faint ringing of the telephone, its pitiful whispers attempting to summon him back from his final night in the city. He chose to ignore it, throwing himself fully out of the window and out into the night air. There were things more important than Pacific City now, things he could not afford to neglect.

* * *

Nervously Michael Manly placed his feet against the ground, his legs trembling as he stood up. Aristotle stood silently beside him, arms folded and eyes watching his every move.

"Why did you choose to help me?" Manly asked, hesitantly taking two steps towards the ruined window.

"Because you are a brave soul." The other answered simply. "It would have been an injustice for me to have stood by and done nothing."

"But all the same there are other heroes in Pacific City, why didn't you choose one of them?"

Aristotle's mouth opened in a wide grin revealing his perfect white teeth. "Because you were the first."

Manly glanced around with a wry smile. "Surely that was Champion?" He commented.

Aristotle shook his head. "Champion is history, Michael, and history is fallible." He smiled knowingly. "Every culture has three distinct ages; the halcyon days of foundation and construction, a renaissance and redefinition of those ideals and a time when all of this has become established and is part of the great order of things. After that the circle begins again."

Manly frowned and looked back out of the window, expecting for a brief moment to catch a glimpse of the Pacific City Tower but finding nothing but ghosts. "And what's all this got to do with me?" He asked.

"You are unique." The other shrugged. "In time you will become the last representative of the old order and the first of the new."

Manly whirled round, his teeth on edge. "Will you stop talking like that!" He snapped, his voice suddenly filled with the silent anger that had been brewing within him since Finnegan's death. "I'm not a representative of anything, I'm not a superhero and I'm definitely not Millennium Man." His voice trailed off and his eyes cast downwards. "I'm just plain old Michael Manly." He whispered.

Aristotle continued to smile. "I know." He whispered in response.

A light tap on the open door sounded loudly through the air. Manly looked up, his worried face suddenly smoothing into a smile.

"Regina." He began.

Regina Darling stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"Hi Michael." She waved. "Its good to see you're okay."

He started towards her.

"Regina, we need to talk, about what happened."

She shook her head slightly.

"Not now, Michael." She glanced back over her shoulder. "I think there's someone here who really needs to talk to you."

He stopped, a sudden cloud of fear settling over him. Regina Darling stepped back, revealing the battered figure of Charlie Winters, his clothes torn and congealed blood staining his chest and face. He stumbled into the room, his eyes swimming with tears and bloodshot from all the pain and sorrow he had endured. He looked up and Michael Manly felt his heart breaking.

"She's gone, Mikey." Winters whispered, his voice cracked and desolate. "Shirley's dead."

The former superhero staggered forwards and fell. With a swift movement Manly darted forwards and took hold of the older man, catching him before he hit the ground. Winters' chest heaved and broke into tears once more, resting in the other's arms.
Manly glanced uncomfortably at Regina who simply nodded and tried not to look at the crying man.

"Shhh." Manly whispered, awkwardly running a hand through the older man's dishevelled silver-white hair. "It's going to be all right."

Outside the first birds of dawn slowly began to sing.

* * *

He paused, arrogantly looking back at the city. It was a calm city and, if you discounted the significant damage inflicted by supervillains and their more fashionable counterparts then it could also be regarded as a peaceful city. It was strange how different a place looked once you took a step back and watched it from a distance. It didn't take much, just half an hour away from the cosmopolitan streets of the city and he could already see it with new eyes...and the territories that lay beyond and to
each side.

It felt odd being so close to Harbour City again. Not that there was any real love lost between himself and the city of his apprenticeship but there was a certain allure that couldn't be denied. Australia offered something very different to America, a
serenity that was almost tangible. Despite being a city founded on British roots and carved from American pop culture, both Harbour City and Pacific City were uniquely Australian. The flaking skin cracked beneath his mask.

It had all been such a long time ago now. They really had believed they could change the world. Sadly he lifted the death masque from his face and removed the balaclava revealing a face burnt and disfigured by pain. The skin upon his gaunt face was peeling, his complexion a dull grey colour and his appearance slightly surreal due to the disfiguration the fire had inflicted on him.

He closed his eyes allowing the early morning sunlight to brush away the tears from his cheeks. So long ago now. The ground yielded to her soft footfalls behind him but he choose not to turn toward her, carrying on the pretence that he didn't spend every waking moment of his life listening and watching her every movement for fear that she should ever be placed in danger. He smiled and she slipped her arms in beneath his trenchcoat and wrapped them tightly around his stomach.

"Hello, bub." She whispered softly in his ear, her voice more lucid than it had been for days.

"Prentice." He mouthed her name.

"I'm here." She whispered in response, tightening her arms.

Tears ran down his face.

She almost sounded so real; so normal again...anger and desperation welled inside of him, the need to retreat back into memory, to hide from the real world...to not have to be the strong one.

"Where are the stars, beloved?" She asked curiously.

The dream shattered and the woman he once loved died before him all over again.

"Behind the clouds, princess." He answered, his voice strained. "They're just hiding for now."

"Will they come back out?" She continued.

"Yes, princess." He whispered, pain racking his body as he fought back the urge to scream with anger and fall down on his knees sobbing like a child.

"Just for me?" Her voice whispered in his ear, singing the words with such soft tenderness that he began to hate her for reminding him so of what they once had.

"Yes, princess, the stars will come back out for you."

"And we'll dance, won't we, beloved?" She continued, letting go of him and spinning off in a brief impromptu dance. "We'll dance upon all their bones, we will. All the king's horsemen, all the king's men, all the heroes and all the villains. And I," She stopped and smiled dangerously. "I will be a goddess again."

* * *

Winters' hands shook as he lit another cigarette, a large mug of coffee cooling on the blood stained table before him. Standing before him Michael Manly and Regina Darling looked silently respectful, hands entwined, unconsciously seeking comfort from the other. Standing awkwardly in the door Jeremy remained half in and half out of the room, his mind racing and fear twisting in his stomach. The tall, smooth skinned shape of Aristotle Licuan remained silently facing the shattered window, hands clenched together behind his back.

The room remained silent aside from Winters' desperate attempts to hold his grief in check. Suddenly the entire dynamic of their lives had been changed. Without word or warning one of their own had turned against them. Sweat ran down Jeremy's brow as his discomfort increased. He felt lost, as if by some strange twist of fate he had suddenly found himself a silent watcher at a
council of giants. He was nobody, a 16-year-old kid who dropped out of school and still lived with his divorced mother in an insignificant little village just outside of the city. He was just an average, middle class kid with no future and no significant past. There was nothing special whatsoever about him and yet now, now he stood silent in a room with two fallen superheroes, a TV presenter and a crazy monk.

"Erm...I guess I should probably go now." He murmured.

Neither Winters nor the monk looked up.

Regina disengaged her hand from Manly's and came over, hugging him lightly. "Thanks, Jeremy." She whispered. "For everything."

He looked up and Manly nodded.

"I owe you one." The former hero replied. "You saved my life."

Jeremy shrugged.

"Its nothing." He murmured. "Just do what you've got to do and nail that freak in the mask." He smiled awkwardly and felt overwhelmingly stupid, instantly regretting how much of an idiot he sounded.

Manly nodded slowly once more. "I'll do my best."

Regina let go of him, pausing to kiss him lightly on the cheek. Instantly his entire face flushed red and he turned his eyes towards to his feet.

"Yeah...erm...well I better go. Don't be late tomorrow or I'll get it in the neck." He muttered and quickly scurried away down the hallway, feeling even more stupid.

Regina Darling smiled and softly closed the door and took a deep breath before turning to face Manly and exploded.

"You see why you need to wear a goddamn costume now?" She shouted. "That poor kid is why you need to be Millennium Man, the poor kid and all the others you work with. Every time you head out there to take out some psycho in a stupid mask and a raincoat it's those kids lives that you're putting in danger. How the hell could you be so stupid, Michael? I mean what where you thinking? It doesn't take much you know. Jesus, you have the same stance, the same voice, the same posture. It doesn't take a genius to work out who you are. Wear the goddamn costume or make sure someone else does because
everyday you don't you're putting people's lives in danger."

"She's right, you know, mate." Winters whispered suddenly, his voice raw and hurt.

Both Regina and Manly turned to look at him, surprised at his sudden announcement.

"Its stupid, isn't it? For ages we all thought that we could get away with just throwing anyone who got in our way in the deepest, darkest hole we could find but it doesn't work...they always come back. It's not about good or evil, it's not even about being in the right. It's about protecting the people you care about. And that's why you can't let them live. You have to kill them...because if you don't they're going to kill you. That's why you have to be Millennium Man...either that or like Regina says, pass the costume on."

A final blow shattered Finnegan's face.

"No." Manly snapped, his fists tightening. "No one else wears the costume. The Millennium Man legacy stops here."

Aristotle turned suddenly, his expression calm and patient. "Get dressed." He ordered Manly, glancing down at his torn and bloodstained clothing. "I want to show you something."

Manly turned first towards Regina then towards Charlie.

"Do what he says, Mikey." Winters whispered. "Next time you might not be so lucky."

Manly hesitated, glancing once more at Regina before finally bowing his head and walking away towards the bedroom. The silence emptied slowly back into the room and closed in about them.

* * *

Jeremy sighed deeply and turned the keys in his front door. It was a half hour train journey from Pacific City to Cottered, a comfortable enough distance if you could drive but an entire world away if you couldn't.

Jeremy had been born in St. Jude's Hospital in 1985 and they moved from Pacific City seven months after he was born. Ten years later his parents had got divorced, his father moving to Lorrington and eventually remarrying and emigrating to Singapore whilst he remained with his mother in the small and relative quiet of suburbia.

With as little noise as possible he closed the front door and flicked the light switch on, kicking off his shoes just shy of his mother's neatly arranged shoe-rack. The windows in the nearby kitchen still remained open a crack and a small army of insects had already noticed the sudden flash of light and were attempting to fly up and under the slightly open window and towards the burning radiance of the bulb. He ignored them; moving at his own pace into the kitchen and softly closing the windows, making no apology to the insects still left outside nor considering how effectively he had divided them into two camps.

His shoulders ached, senses dulled by the hardships of the working day. A small smile crossed his lips as he opened the fridge and poured himself a glass of milk. Despite Manly's unauthorised absence (which he had been forced to create an explanation for in his report) the day had gone smoothly. He was pleased with the way they were all pulling together. Despite the revelation of Manly's true identity and despite the death of a trainee on their shift they had all pulled together amazingly well. This wasn't like any other McDonald's; this was a McDonald's in the heart of a city populated by superheroes and supervillains. It took a special kind of person to serve up fast food in their kind of city and they were doing the best that could ever be expected of them and more. He was proud of his team and proud of his shift, and God knew there wasn't much else in his life to be proud of.

A brief light caught his eye and he looked up. Sitting at the end of the road outside Mister and Mrs. Baugh's house was a quiet police car, its sirens dead but still shimmering as headlights passed over it. He frowned and wondered why he hadn't noticed it when he turned into the street. With a mental shrug he dismissed it. It wasn't that important, the Baugh's eldest kid, Aaron was
always in some sort of trouble so it wasn't really too much of a surprise. He finished drinking and returned the carton to the fridge, carefully wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The soft sound of the television emanated from down the halfway. He sighed wearily. His mother had got into a routine of falling asleep on the sofa, waiting for him to come home from work. It was a pattern he disliked but continued to play along with, if only for his mother's sake and her slightly over-strung nerves.

He headed down the hallway, travelling past the small dining room that had along since taken up a new meaning as a sanctuary and refuge for all the pieces of junk and discarded hobbies that had punctuated his childhood. The grating of American accents called out to him from the television and, as he stopped in the doorway he saw an old episode of Gilligan's Island playing out in garish colours upon the small, Japanese made box.

"Hey." He called out.

There was no answer.

He could see his mother's legs dangling over the end of the sofa.

"Mother." He called out, in a bored voice, stepping slowly closer to the sofa. The hair on the back of his neck stood suddenly on end and a trembling overcame him.

Something was wrong.

With trepidation Jeremy Carpenter took a final step forwards, peering over the sofa. His mother stared fish-eyed back at him, her throat sliced open and blood covering her neck and the new white blouse she had brought only two Saturdays ago.

"OH, JESUS!" Jeremy shrieked, falling backwards as the blood rushed to his head. "OH JESUS CHRIST, NO!"

As he fell he suddenly realised someone was standing behind him. The world became unreal, his senses out of tune with one another as he hit the ground and rolled, looking up at the unexpected visitor. The tall man in the horror show white mask smiled down on him.

"Hello, Jeremy." He purred, his eyes glancing again at the nametag on Jeremy's shirt. "I hope you don't mind its just that before she answered the door your mother was complaining about being woke up and we just wanted to make sure she got a good night's sleep."

"You...You killed her! You bastard, you killed her." Jeremy whispered.

The other shrugged. "That's one way of looking at it." He said absently. "I like to think of it as offering her eternal rest." He paused and laughed mirthlessly. "Why, I almost sound like a Catholic. Who would have thought it, hey? Good old Jacob Liebowitz's kid sounding like a common or garden roman." He bent down, knees cracking as he did until his ghost like mask was face to face with Jeremy. "I'm sorry about all this. Its nothing personal really, it's just my beloved and I are very keen that your friend Mister Man understands exactly whom he's dealing with."

Jeremy opened his mouth to speak, his eyes glancing down at a cold spark of light in the other's hand. A moment later and his head exploded, shattering like over ripe fruit and falling languidly down over the back of the sofa and his mother's sullen corpse like the petals of cherry blossoms.

Demerite rose up and holstered the smoking gun.

"Are we done yet?" Called a voice from the hallway.

The man in the death masque smiled as he looked down at the Madonna and child, both painted in bloodstains upon the floor of their home.

"Yes, love." He smiled. "I think that should do the trick."

Without another word he turned and walked away, his boots pushing down on the soft, bloodstained carpet and leaving no sound at all.

* * *

"I was wondering when one of you would turn up." He announced, his face wrinkling in distaste. "And as for you, Charles, I'm surprised you're still alive."

"Enough." Aristotle announced, his voice deep and commanding.

Alfonse stood alone in the doorway of the Burke mansion, looking over the three faces before him, from the calm, understated confidence of Aristotle Licuan to the dejected defeatism of Michael Manly and the wounded, lost expression of Charlie Winters.

"You know who we are, Alfonse, and you must know by now why we're here." Aristotle whispered, his voice dark and threatening.

The butler's lips curled in distaste. He had encountered both Winters and Licuan before. Winters he had known simply because the man had once been one of the most significant superheroes in England. When the man was appearing on the front page of The Sun every other day with a big smirk and a knowing glint in his eye it was hard not to know who he was. They had later met through Winters' friendship with Henry Burke III. Aristotle however hinted at a slightly more complicated history.

They had first met in 1969 when, convinced that Burke was Millennium Man, the Vapour had kidnapped him from the bedside of his young daughter and spirited away to his lair. In order to protect his friend and master, and to make sure his secret identity remained secret, Alfonse had donned the Millennium Man costume and defeated the Vapour single-handedly.

The Vapour, of course, managed to escape despite the severe beating he received and upon thawing Burke from his ice trap, the former supervillain discovered him to be on the verge of death. It was then that the mysterious figure of Aristotle Licuan had first appeared. Offering no explanation as to his identity or any justification as to why he should be interested in Burke, the monk healed him of his fatal wounds and disappeared without a word. Since then, Aristotle had been sighted several times, watching over the former Millennium Man like some dark eyed guardian angel. A brief frown crossed the butler's face. In fact the only time Aristotle had been absent was during the Faustian Four's attack upon Pacific City in 1999.

As if sensing the question rising in the other's mind, Aristotle smiled enigmatically.

"Not now." He whispered, his voice dry and yet full of authority.

Again Alfonse looked at the three of them; two former superheroes and a monk. He smirked.

"You best come in then." He said finally with resignation. "I hope you're not looking for the lady of the house. She hasn't been home since, oh, last night when she killed your wife, Winters." A cruel smile crossed his face.

Winters' eyes flashed with sudden pain and hatred.

"We're not looking for Victoria." He whispered. "Its only the dead we're interested in."

Alfonse's smile faded and he watched as the three of them filed inside, Manly remaining strangely silent.

"You can't go down there." He exclaimed, suddenly realising exactly why the three of them had come calling.

Winters turned and smiled viciously.

"Too late, old son. We're already here."

Alfonse lunged forwards, his fists clenched. In an instant Winters was behind him and his head was bouncing off the freshly polished floor where Eric had met his end only a scarce few hours previously. "Don't you fucking test me, pal, because I am just itching to kick the shit out of someone right now." Winters snarled, his voice distorted with rage as he hauled Alfonse's bloodied face up from the floor. "I don't care about what pretence you have about looking after Burke's daughter, it doesn't mean shit to me and if you push me I will bloody snap you like a twig, you got that?"

Alfonse murmured something unintelligible and Winters slammed his face down hard into the floor once more. With a look of hateful glee he stood up once more and turned to face Aristotle and Manly once more. "I think he's finally coming round to our way of thinking." The former superhero smiled dangerously.

Aristotle nodded but said nothing and together the three of them headed down into the lower levels of Burke mansion...and towards the shrine of the original Millennium Man.

* * *

Jonathan Manly stared blankly at the pale face of the woman he professed to love. "You want me to, uh, what?" He asked, not quite registering what his better half was telling him. Julia sighed and placed her hands firmly on her hips.

"I want you to go round to your brother's place and ap-ol-ogise." She repeated, making sure she pronounced the last word very loudly and very clearly.

Jonathan scratched his head and frowned. "But you hate Mikey."

Sighing once more, Julia Squire did her best to hold back a strangled cry of frustration and anger. "Haven't you been listening to anything I've been saying for the last half hour? For God's sake, Jonathan, it doesn't take that much, all you have to do is try listening once in a while." She sighed again, this more for show than anything. "All I'm asking is that you go to your brother's house and apologise - for both of us."

The frown on Jonathan's face deepened.

"But why?"

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, let's go back through this once more, shall we? Millennium Man is obviously someone who
lives in Pacific City, you with me so far, Jonathan?" She smiled sarcastically. "Your brother is apparently 'friends' with Millennium Man, at least that's what was inferred by KGPC whilst they were hyping The Manly Side therefore your brother might know something about who Millennium Man is. Now, all you have to do, Jonathan, is go round there, apologise and be friends again so we can find this out."

"But why would we want to know who Millennium Man is, Jules?" Jonathan murmured, not entirely convinced by his girlfriend's plan.

"Idiot!" She snapped. "So we can make money! There's a fortune in the offing just waiting for someone to come along and claim it especially since Finnegan died. Do you know the mayor's already talking about making superheroes illegal in Pacific City? No, of course you don't, because you're an idiot, Jonathan. You have no understanding of what that could mean to the city, of what it could mean to Australia as a whole and you have no understanding of how rich the people who reveal Millennium Man's true identity are going to be, do you?"

Jonathan shifted his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, looking very much like a small, defenceless child.

"Listen, you simpleton," Julia snarled. "All that's required of you is that you visit your brother. Do you think you can do that maybe sometime this week perhaps whilst I'm out working to pay the rent on this shithole of a place."

Jonathan nodded numbly. "I-I guess so." He whispered.

"Good." Julia exclaimed, letting out a sigh of relief. "Finally we're getting somewhere. Now listen,  I've got to go out for a little while but you take care of yourself until I get back, okay?"

Jonathan continued to nod slowly, his bottom lip sticking out in an exaggerated expression of his discontent.

"Think about what I said, Jonathan." She said softly. "We could both be rich, you know." Swiftly she reached forwards, pecked him on the cheek and then quickly took hold of her handbag and left.

* * *

The costume remained behind glass, draped loosely over a featureless mannequin. It was different to the costume Manly had been wearing although there was a definite similarity in its design. Looking up in awe, he wondered how much Henry Burke had passed onto him when he had received his powers. Surely the similarities in design couldn't be coincidence. The costume was primarily composed of black and white, the section that was red on Manly's old costume (beginning with the mask of the original costume he had worn and stretching from his shoulders to the groin) was black and rather than sporting a somewhat garish orange circle in the middle, Burke's old costume contained a simple white circle. The mask that had been a fixture of his original costume was replaced here by a simple cowl that would allow the lower part of his face to be seen although the most interesting addition was that rather than a cape or cloak, Burke had opted for an old and battered leather jacket. As the mannequin rotated on its stand, Manly noted that the jacket also sported the simple white sun symbol upon its back. He smiled and looked over at Winters.

"Well, what do you expect?" The other exclaimed, momentarily free of his grief. "It was the 80s, everyone was trying to fit in with youth culture, even twats like Henry Burke and myself."

Manly laughed softly. "Its certainly different." He murmured.

"Its better." Muttered a voice from behind.

They turned to see Alfonse walking slowly across the floor, dabbing his nose with a bloodied handkerchief.

"The costume was designed to be more resilient to fire and harmful toxins. We even made sure it was bullet proof...not that Henry really needed to be worried about bullets, however for you, Mister Manly this might be quite an advantage." He smiled darkly.

"Have you come here to taunt us or to help, Alfonse?" Aristotle asked softly.

The butler stood in the doorway for a moment, his large hands thrust deep within the pockets of his pinstripe trousers. "Help, actually." He announced, his face spreading in a broad smile. "Despite what you may think of me the idea of someone out there actively following in Henry's footsteps pleases me." He took broad steps towards them. "Please don't get me wrong, I don't approve at all of the way in which you've showed up here nor do I particularly care for the company you keep, Mister Manly," He shot a look at Winters. "But the truth of the matter is that we need a Millennium Man, or in my opinion at least."

Manly looked about, watching the three of them and their unflinching expressions. "B-But I killed a man." He protested.

Alfonse smiled darkly. "And you'll kill a lot more." He promised. "Do you think Henry Burke was so pure that every villain
he apprehended ended up in Alhazred? Why do you think we never hear about Fireczar anymore?"

Michael turned away. "I don't think I can do it. I don't think I can bring myself to kill again."

"Then you're weak." A voice spat with cold determination.

They turned suddenly, watching as Mysteria pulled back her cloak, slowly stepping into existence from the thin swirl of emptiness about her. She smiled contemptuously. "What, you think I'd miss my father's murderer turning up at my house?" Her lips curled with cruelty.

"You bitch." Winters whispered, his hands tightening. "You bitch, you killed my wife."

Mysteria smiled and brushed her hair back from her shoulders.

"Yes, I did rather, didn't I?" She grinned. "And now I'm going to finish it."

"'Tori." Alfonse warned.

"This isn't the time, Alfonse!" She turned and screamed. "And you should have known better! Do you all think I'm that stupid? I can find you all wherever you are, I can be anywhere!" Without warning she leapt forwards, her hair falling flickering and threatening to turn blonde as pure power surged through her veins.

Winters gasped and staggered back...and watched as something knocked her clean across the room. It took a moment for his eyes to catch up with the moment and when he did he noticed Michael Manly standing between them.

"Don't push me, Manly!" She snarled, picking herself up. "I've already beaten you once!" The air flickered and suddenly he was behind her, his right elbow slamming between her shoulders. Her eyes widened in surprise as she fell forwards, her chin bouncing off the polished floor.

Manly straightened. "That's because last time you didn't fight Millennium Man."

She rolled and stood up, sneering with insolence.

"Some Millennium Man you are. You can't even put your costume on."

Manly smirked. "That's why I'm taking your dad's."

Victoria's eyes widened.

"Y-You can't! That's Daddy's! You can't take it!" Her eyes glanced at the butler. "Alfonse, tell him! Tell him he can't take Daddy's costume!"

Alfonse looked away. "Its for the best, 'Toria." He whispered.

Her breath became ragged, deep drags of air pulled in through her flared nostrils. "Its...not...fair." She whispered. "ITS NOT FAIR!"

She flew forwards once more. Silently Manly lifted his left leg up. She screamed, growing closer and closer, seconds stretching into hours.His foot connected with the left side of her head and slammed her sideways into the wall.

Moaning, Victoria Burke slid down the wall and lost consciousness.

Alfonse sighed.

"I wish you hadn't been so rough on her."

Winters watched her with murderous eyes. "Better than she deserved, the murdering cow." A storm of emotion broke within him, tears welling in his eyes and hate welling in his stomach. His shoulders sagged and he nearly fell to the floor. Suddenly all the fear and anger and emotion that had built up over the last few days seemed to erupt inside.

He fell and Aristotle took hold of him. "Be calm." He whispered. "Your time will come."

Michael Manly stepped forwards, looking at the glass cabinet. He fixed his gaze and the glass shattered, falling like snow to the floor about them. Saying nothing he stepped up and reached out.

* * *

The answerphone beeped and clicked once, an awkward silence following shortly afterwards. A quiet voice coughed politely yet nervously and then slowly, seemingly after having taken a deep breath, began to speak:

'Hello, Michael, this is your mother. I know it's late and your father thinks I shouldn't have called you but something dreadful has happened. That poor Carpenter boy, the one you work with now, well...he's dead, Michael.' She coughed nervously again. 'They say it was a burglar but apparently nothing was taken. T-The poor boy was shot in the face and his mother...she was dead before he came home from work.' Another pause, this one made even more awkward by the murmured complaints of Manly's father in the background. 'I, ah, I just thought you should know, dear P-Please take care of your brother for us.'

The phone beeped once more and the line went dead. Slowly, Rebecca Manly replaced the phone in its cradle and turned away, tears streaming down her face.

The man in the death mask smiled hideously behind his pale white visage.

* * *

He leapt the small divide between buildings, his feet landing firmly upon the rooftop opposite Manly's apartment building in time to see the front door of the apartment open and Manly, Winters and a third man who he remained unknown to him enter the room. Manly's face was hardened with determination and he was clothed within a variant of the old Millennium Man costume he had once worn.

A tight smile crossed Jian's face. Finally the man was beginning to see sense. From his vantage point he could just make out the slumbering form of Regina Darling, sprawled awkwardly upon the coach. She moved slowly, hesitantly even. The blinking light of the answerphone caught his eye although none of the room's four occupants had as yet noticed it. All of a sudden he was overcome by a strong feeling of loss and nostalgia.

Pacific City was changing about him. From the first appearance of Millennium Man in March, 2000, the city had been changing, edging closer and closer to a point from which it would never have been able to return. A month before that, Cliff Jerrod, the former superhero known as Olympus, was elected mayor of Pacific City.

Not since the first appearance of heroes during the '20s in America had so many superheroes been concentrated in one area.
From Victoria to Michael to that irritating child in the foolish mask, Pacific City was now as easily defined by the destruction of its property and sightings of alien craft over its spires as once it had been for its pleasant restaurants and nice hotels. The dynamic of the city changed and Jian was once more a foreigner upon its pale grey streets. Over the past twenty or thirty years there had been much complaint about the 'Asian Invasion' of Australia. Nice, middleclass white citizens fearing the sudden influx of students from Korea and China. As the frustration with the native Aborigines increased, so the country's Asian immigrants were frowned upon.

It had never been too much of a concern for Jian. Back in China, he had listened to Ling's endless speeches about the fundamental flaws of Western culture and its fascination with men and women in gaudy costumes posing for cameras. The two of them had spent a lot of time together as children, despite Ling being several years his senior, their paths eventually separating when Jian, eager to learn techniques not as widely available as they had at one time been, had joined the Triads.

He shook his head sadly. He had learnt the arts and where had it got him? A small sigh escaped his lips. Across the way, Manly finally paid attention, reaching closer and flicking the switch to play it back. Without waiting to see his reaction, Jian Li Fong headed for the stairs and made his way down the building.

* * *

"Have you ever heard of a band called the Vaselines?" Winters asked casually, handing Regina a cup of coffee.

She shook her head slowly.

"They were great, they were." He said sadly. "Me and Shirley saw them when they were on tour with Rancid Wan..."

'Hello, Michael, this is your mother.'

The words silenced everyone in the room, all eyes falling upon the tense figure of Michael Manly standing before the answerphone.

'I know it's late and your father thinks I shouldn't have called you but something dreadful has happened. That poor Carpenter boy, the one you work with now, well...he's dead, Michael.'

Darkness filled the corners of Manly's eyes, his fists clenching.

'They say it was a burglar but apparently nothing was taken. T-The poor boy was shot in the face and his mother...she was dead before he came home from work.'

The mug slipped from Regina's hands and shattered unnoticed on the floor beneath her.

'I, ah, I just thought you should know, dear P-Please take care of your brother for us.'

"He's there." Manly whispered coldly. "That faceless bastard is in my parent's house."

Winters started forwards. "Hey, mate, hang on, you don't know that for sure."

"Yes, I do." Manly answered, his voice full of power and authority.

The door creaked slightly and Regina jumped, stifling a gasp, as Jian Li Fong appeared suddenly amongst them.

Manly turned to look at him. "Jian." He whispered, his voice softening.

Jian nodded, seemingly unfazed by the mention of his real name before the small assembled group. "Go." He said quietly. "Avenge your friends."

"Will you..?" Manly began.

Jian shook his head. "No. I'll be gone by the time you return, Michael. Remember what I've taught you."

Silence echoed through the room.

Aristotle Licuan watched the silent figure in the black gi with cold interest in his dark eyes. Manly turned and looked at Regina.

"I have to." He whispered.

She smiled weakly. "I know." She answered, her eyes welling with tears.

"Michael," Jian said suddenly, smiling for the first time in the short conversation. "Don't die." A corner of Manly's lips twisted in a smile as he realised how much his friend's statement reminded him of the absent Romanova.

"I won't." He answered, knowing it to be true.

His body tensed and an ethereal glow exploded about him. Without another word he lifted his body into the air and shot out through the shattered window frame.

* * *

Frank Manly's face turned hideously blue, his tongue fat in his mouth as his feet kicked desperately about for a floor that was no longer beneath him. As a young man he had been a soldier. As he grew older he had prided himself on the years spent
with the army and liked to think of himself as the protector of his family, the king of his castle.

As he hung from a rope from the ceiling fan of his front room, Frank Manly didn't feel much like the king of the castle anymore.
He struggled but couldn't already feel himself losing control, the warm damp spreading in his loins and head. He sputtered, tongue like a fish out of water, slapping uselessly against the harsh stubble of his chin. The man in the devil's mask looked emotionlessly up at him and a strange compulsion to salute  overwhelmed him.

A soldier always recognises another soldier.

As if sensing his unspoken thoughts, the devil removed his hat, revealing a head of thick greasy hair and saluted and whilst he could hear his wife screaming in the background, Frank Manly felt as if his last wish had been granted.

His head felt heavy, sleep whispering comforting thoughts at the back of his mind. The light in the room grew dim and his brother soldier faded from view. In his mind, Frank Manly saluted back and smiled and then fell into glorious sleep forever.

* * *

The light in his parents' house glimmered brightly ahead of him, the wind pushing against the tight skin of his face and his short hair. He stopped, hovering above the house, fists tightened and expression furious.

"COME OUT!" He shouted into the air. "COME OUT, YOU AMERICAN BASTARDS AND FACE ME!"

All about the cul-de-sac lights flickered, trails of illumination reflecting off the abandoned police cruiser that rested outside old man Baugh's house. Energy grew in balls of light about his fists. "COME OUT HERE, YOU BASTARDS!" He shouted once more.

The front door opened slowly revealing the dark, pale masked man that had come to close to ending his life only a number of hours previously. Bedraggled hair hung over the skull like expression of the mask, a look of surprise crossing the scarred flesh beneath.

"Well, you healed remarkably quickly." He said, his voice thick and droll. "I must confess you've caught us off guard, Mister Man, we weren't expecting you so early."

Manly lowered himself, hovering just above the ground. His heart pounded in his chest.

"You bastards." He whispered. "You said you weren't interested in who I was."

The other shrugged and pretended to yawn. "It wasn't particularly hard to work out, was it?" He commented in an off hand manner.

"You bastard, you killed all those people...you killed Nicki...Christ, you killed Jeremy." He shook his head in disbelief.

"Guess what?" Liebowitz smirked. "We killed your dad too."

The rage built inside of him, his fists rising, the light illuminating the cul-de-sac as brightly as if it had been mid-day.

"You bastards...you fucking bastards."

"Tut-tut." Liebowitz smirked, waving a finger. "Such language."

The Science Hero's body tensed, the pavement shattering about him as chunks of grass were torn from the ground and pulled up into the air.

"Remember your dear mother is inside, Mister Man. Are you sure you want to launch an attack of that scale? I mean, sure, you'll incinerate me but can you imagine your mother cowering at the feet of her dead husband, the flesh melting from her bones just because you lost your temper."

"I hate you." Manly whispered. "I hate you, I hate everything about you."

"That's good." Liebowitz hissed, placing the palm of his hand on a holstered gun. "I want you to hate, Mister Man. We're so alike, you and I, brothers in a way, one nation under God."

"I'm going to kill you." Manly promised.

"You didn't last time. In fact you almost lost your own life trying to. Your dad was a soldier, Manly, he understood that sometimes there are casualties in war and we are very much at war, you and I."

"Why are you doing this?"

Liebowitz laughed mirthlessly. "Why am I doing this, you ask? I'm doing this because its who I am, I'm doing this because I'm sick of idiots like yourself falling over themselves to crawl before false idols. I want you to see me as I really am, Manly, I want you to know what my face is like." With a slow movement, he reached up with his free hand and took the masque away, throwing it to the ground.

Revealed beneath was a face so disfigured by scars and deformities that it was almost impossible to recognise it. "Your mentors did this to me. When Dale Steffens turned chicken and ran with his tail between his legs into the arms of the authorities, I was forced from Harbour City. I escaped with my life to the edge of Pacific City where that bastard Henry Burke confronted me.

"He called me a murderer and promised that he was going to turn me into those bastards at Alhazred, one way or another. During the fight, your friend, good old Charlie Winters and his bastard relatives detonated the Ebola bomb that cost Burke his life. They managed to destroy half of Pacific City's harbour. As the firemen and ambulance men clawed their way through the flames to get to Burke, I was left to rot. I crawled, burning into the ocean and died.

"I woke up half a year later in Cuba with my beloved watching over me, her mind shattered by the effects of some bastard alien crystal that I thought she'd escaped from years earlier. She brought me back, Manly but she couldn't heal me. I was sentenced to live life once more a freak.

"We went back to America and tried to enlist the help of Cadduceus. Wherever he was hiding he didn't want to be found. We turned over every stone, every rock but wherever he was, he couldn't be found.

"They all turned their backs on me, Manly, every last one of them."

"And that gives you the right to kill innocent people, does it?" Manly answered.

Liebowitz's disfigured face creased in a smile. "No," He whispered. "Being a soldier does."

Without warning the gun was in the air, the bullet exploding from its muzzle and speeding towards him. With a single blast, Manly caught the bullet with his illuminated fists and destroyed it mid-air. "That trick's not going to work this time." He announced stepping slowly forwards.

"Fine." Liebowitz snarled, tossing the gun to the ground. "Then I'll kill you with my bare hands!" He lunged forwards and swung his fist, punching Manly firmly in the jaw.

The superhero did not flinch.

Silently he grabbed hold of Liebowitz by the shoulders, burning into the flesh with his light filled hands, pulled back and slammed his head into the disfigured mass of the other's face. Liebowitz screamed as his face exploded in blood and puss, squirming in the other's hold. Manly pulled back and slammed his head once more into the other, shattering bone and spraying
blood up his own face.

Liebowitz shrieked in pain, white specs of light exploded before his eyes. Again, Manly slammed his head forwards.

There was a sickening shatter as Liebowitz's skull broke open. With a roar of anger, Manly tore the other's arms free of their sockets, tossing them backwards into the air behind them.

Taking hold of the former vigilante by the throat he lifted him into the air and delivered a blow to his wounded face.

A final blow shattered Finnegan's face...and he didn't give a shit.

Liebowitz's face fell to pieces before him and he ignored it. Pulling his powerful arm back, he pulled his fist and the burning ball of light that surrounded it and slammed into Liebowitz's stomach.

The light burnt his insides to cinders and when the fist exploded through the other side it was with such force that the vigilante's body was torn in two.

The legs fell spasming to the ground whilst the upper body twisted, fell and cracked open like rotten fruit upon the doorstep of his parents' house and at the feet of the woman in the stained wedding dress.

He looked up at her as he pulled her veil back, catching sight of his terrified mother cowering behind.

"YOU WANT SOME?" He shouted furiously at the solemn looking face of the woman before him.

She said nothing, stepping slowly over the defiled corpse of her lover, coming closer until she was facing him.

"Thank you." She whispered, her voice gentle and lilting.

Without another word, she took hold of his burning hands and placed them firmly upon her breasts.

The light tore at her clothing, burning it away and cracking the fair skin beneath.

"Thank you for saving us." She whispered as the light tore its way into her body. She coughed and blood erupted from her mouth, spattering his already stained face. A moment later and the light had burnt its way into her heart.

Her body fell lifelessly to the ground at his feet, the light around his hands dulled and fading. He said nothing, feeling surprised but remorseless. Sobbing softly in the doorway, his mother pulled her legs close up to her chest and wished the world
away. In his head he heard the words Winters had spoke to him only hours earlier.

"For ages we all thought that we could get away with just throwing anyone who got in our way in the deepest, darkest hole we could find but it doesn't work...they always come back. It's not about good or evil, it's not even about being in the right. It's about protecting the people you care about. And that's why you can't let them live. You have to kill them...because if you don't they're going to kill you."

Silently he began to walk past the dead bodies of Prentice and Demerite and towards his mother.

* * *

Several hours later...

Mayor Cliff Jerrod removed his spectacles and dropped them atop the pile of reports on his desk. "Have you seen this shit?" He demanded.

Commissioner Jordan nodded. "I have, sir."

Jerrod shook his head. "Jesus, what's the world coming to?" He looked up at the two other men standing patiently at the far
end of the room. "What do you make of this, Tage?"

William Tage stepped slowly forwards.

"I think that's obvious, sir. We've finally reached the point where it has become dangerous to allow superheroes to function within our fair city. Something needs to be done about it."

"Christ," Jerrod murmured. "Not in all my days did I ever think things would get this bad." He glanced at the final member of the group, a tall man in an immaculate pin stripe suit, a bowler hat resting atop of his head. "And you, Edwin, what do you think of all this?"

The man in the bowler hat smiled coldly. "The internal arrangements of your fair city is unfortunately not within my authority to comment on, Mister Jerrod. The rules of diplomatic conduct are quite clear on this matter." The smile spread across
his sharp, predatory face. "However, I think you can surmise what my opinion on such a matter is."

Jerrod forced a smile and lit a cigarette, crumpling the empty packet and tossing it into the wastepaper basket.

"You want the Winters, right? Consider them yours." He sighed. "I just want them out of my city and I'm damn sure the President's office will be keen to get shot of them as well."

Sir Edwin Calohan-Smythe bowed politely. "I thank you, Lord Mayor."

"Whatever." He murmured dismissively. "Jordan, get on the phone to Lansing's people. Looks like we're going to have to use that tin of bolts of theirs sooner than we thought."

"Sir, do you really think we stand a chance against Millennium Man?" Jordan asked hesitantly.

Jerrod looked up.

"Its not just Millennium Man, its every goddamn superhero in the city. I want them all apprehended and thrown into the deepest, darkest pits Alhazred has got. I'm sick of them, all of them. Christ, they're out there killing innocent people now. Its gone too far, not even the Grim Knight was as bad as this."

"The Engine won't be enough to take down Millennium Man." Tage announced.

"How'd you figure?" Jerrod snapped.

"I don't 'figure', I know." The doctor snapped. "You forget that I was present both times Burke was brought into Alhazred. I know Millennium Man's powers and this new one, whoever he is, has the potential to be infinitely more powerful than Burke ever was."

"So what do you suggest then, doctor?" Jerrod snarled, his patience wearing thin.

Tage smiled and placed his hands together,

"Allow me to release two of our patients and persuade them to bring him in."

"You're crazy." Jerrod said, his eyes widening with surprise.

"Sir, you can't allow this." Jordan interjected.

"If I may be allowed to continue." Tage said loudly. "The Engine, with or without Lansing as its pilot, is not a match for an individual on the scale of Millennium Man's powers. Do you know exactly how powerful he could be, Jerrod? We're dealing with a man that, if he thought about it enough, could explode the sun with his mind alone."

"Jesus." Jordan whispered.

With shaking hands, the police commissioner poured himself a glass of the mayor's brandy and gulped it down in one go.

"There's no way a machine can win against that sort of power. If you're going to fight fire, then you'll need to fight it with fire."
Silence crept into the room.

With a sigh, Jerrod collapsed back into his chair.

"Alright." He whispered quietly. "Alright, let two of your patients out.but for your sake, Tage they better be controllable."

"Oh, they will be, you have my word on it." He paused and coughed politely. "There will, of course, be casualties, you know."

Jerrod waved a hand. "I know, goddamn it, I know. Just do it and don't make any mistakes." He looked away and poured
himself a glass of drink. "Now get out my sight, the lot of you. I've got an appointment with this bottle."

Tage smiled. "Of course, sir. I'll speak to you in the morning."

Jordan nodded and, still shaking, made his way out of the office.

For a moment, Calohan-Smythe lingered in the doorway and then, with a slight chuckle turned around and left, Tage following after him.

Cliff Jerrod starred at the bottom of his glass and drank deep.</p>