MILLENNIUM MAN #13
"The House That Abdul Built"
By Jacob Milnestein

'Good evening ladies and gentlemen, my name's Virgil Rock and you're watching When Good Superheroes Go Bad.

'So before we begin, let's briefly turn our attention to a place so close that I'm sure many of you have visited and many perhaps have relatives living there. Let's talk about Harbour City and the shadow that hangs over it. Let's talk about the Spyder...'

The television screen shattered in a shower of broken glass and plastic, falling freely from its high wall mount and cracking wide open on the stained carpet beneath.

His dressing gown wide open and his mask covering his face, War Monger screamed in triumph. 16 months of suppressed anger, 16 months of carefully monitored medication, 16 months of Tage's insipidly boring voice were present in that scream; 16 months of frustration and apathy suddenly released in one single act of vandalism.

He turned, his eye wide with madness and found himself face to face with the long, horse like face of Eagle-Eye. Without thinking he thrust his head forwards, the metal of his mask slamming into the soft skin of the archer's face and causing it to explode in a similar fashion to the fallen television set.

War Monger howled again, his mask stained with blood as he watched his former inmate collapse before him.

Through the archway of the adjoining room he could see the partial shapes of Gigantor-Man and the Baron Black as they forced Cyclone Ranger face down into the pillow. He turned away without a second thought. Everyone was elebrating.and besides he had never liked Cyclone Ranger anyhow.

He looked down at his hands and the torn nails and clenched them slowly into fists.

For the first time in months he felt like himself again. He could feel the old familiar power running through his mutant veins. Swiftly he tore the dressing gown from his shoulders and stood naked aside from the mask that had been burnt into his face all those years ago. At last he was himself again, at last War Monger had returned!

Screams echoed down the hallway, the strip lights stuttered from darkness to radiance and fading once more. The doors were open and the rooms save for the discarded bodies of those who had been caught in the sudden surge of inmates.

Every single door on Alhazred Asylum's second floor was wide open and deserted...every single door but one. Huddled in the corner, William Taylor looked fearflly at his closed door. Perspiration ran down his forehead and prayers stained his dry lips. A long time ago he had been a superhero...then he had stopped. The last time he had worn his costume he had done so with the intention of being caught.

Taylor had arrived in Pacific City on the 18th October, 2001. It had taken him half an hour to locate a cheap hotel and change into his costume. An hour after that he had half-heartedly tried to rob the Second Pacific Bank and Trust in the hope that he would be apprehended. Within two minutes of declaring his intentions the new Millennium Man had arrived.

Thankfully, Fast-Forward had allowed himself to be beaten and carted off to Alhazred Asylum, smiling all the way. He had never told anyone the reason why. But now it was all over. The sanctuary he had so desperately craved had been rendered useless after all. After 16 months of hiding, the game was finally up.

Outside he heard the echo of footsteps. Sickness engulfed him and he began to shake his head from side to side, sobbing gently. The footsteps grew louder and then stopped abruptly outside his closed door. There was a long painful moment of silence and then the thin slat was drawn violently open and, for the first time in 59 years, William Taylor found himself confronted with those evil, almost human eyes.

Beneath the eyes an unseen smile curled at familiar lips.

"Hello, Billy." The voice purred. "Remember me?"

Taylor could feel his stomach churn as he shivered in the corner, clutching himself tighter. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to force the vision of the other from his mind yet even in the darkness he could feel its glare upon him.

"How could I ever forget you?" He sobbed, his voice rising and falling as tears streamed down his face. He sniffed and looked up, his own distraught eyes meeting those ancient, evil and familiar others.

"Have you come to kill me?"

The voice behind the door laughed softly.

"In time." It whispered. "But first I've got a little job for you, Billy boy." It paused, its eyebrows knitting in a serious frown. "I want you to find Millennium Man and bring him to me."

Trembling, Taylor shook his head.

"Please.please don't make me do that."

"Will-i-am." The voice sang. "You're not listening to me. I want you to find Millennium Man and bring him to me."

"Oh God, please don't make me go out there. I don't want to go out there!" Taylor whimpered.

The eyes lit up with a dangerous smile.

"Listen to me, William. If you don't come out here, I'm going to come in there and trust me, I will huff and I will puff and I will blow your house down."

Taylor screwed his eyes shut and tried to suppress a scream.

"Alright!" He wailed. "Alright, I'll find you Millennium Man."

"Good boy." The voice purred. "I'll be back for you later."

The slat slammed shut and the door opened.

Instinctively William Taylor pushed himself flat against the wall and waited for the suffering he was sure to come. The footsteps echoed down the hallway again.

"How did you know I was here?" Taylor suddenly cried out.

The footsteps paused a moment and in the distance came the other's soft reply:

"Idiot. I built Alhazred." It snarled.

A chill ran down Taylor's spine and the footsteps continued, fading into the distance. For a moment he sat there, staring at the open door and then painfully, the former superhero rose to his feet and crossed the threshold of his cell.

* * * *

Ten Days Earlier...

"10th of January, 2002, 9: 47 a.m." Tage announced and placed the tape recorder down on the desk between them. "Good morning, Michael. How are you feeling today?"

Michael Manly's eyes moved languidly from the point where the walls met the ceiling and rested lazily on the wrinkled face of Alhazred's most prominent psychiatrist.

"Good morning, doctor." He whispered slowly. "I'm feeling a lot better today."

Tage nodded.

"That's good to hear, Michael. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get to business right away."

Manly nodded slowly but said nothing.

"Tell me, what is it you miss most about being Millennium Man?" He asked, glancing at the tape recorder to check the tape was running.

Manly frowned for a moment as he muddled through the confused thoughts running through his brain.

"Flying, I think." He said after a time. "I miss the flying."

Tage nodded again and smiled wryly. "There's an old saying that says 'If God had meant us to fly he would have given us wings'. Have you heard that before, Michael?"

"I...I think so." Manly murmured.

"I think you have." Tage said, somewhat abruptly. "Why is it that you miss flying, Michael?"

The former superhero shrugged apathetically.

"I miss the freedom...the feeling of being able to escape the world around me." He started.

"But it's not healthy to run away from your problems, Michael. Surely you know that." Tage interjected.

Manly nodded.

"I do now."

"That's good. Admitting you have a problem is the first step towards dealing with it. But again, we've already discussed this in previous sessions and over the past few months you've already shown a commitment to dealing with your problems. I respect that, Michael. This is why I think we can move on from electro convulsive therapy and try something a little progressive."

Manly nodded dumbly.

"T-Thank you, doctor." He muttered, flinching at the sudden recollection of burning phosphoresce. "I didn't like the electricity."

Tage nodded solemnly.

"I know, Michael. But unfortunately it was necessary. If we'd allowed you to retain your powers then there's a strong chance you could have placed both yourself and your fellow patients in danger. By correcting the parts of your brain that your powers stemmed from we've taken the first step towards to making you fit to be a part of society again." He glanced down at his notes. "Now, let's talk about the death of your father again, shall we?"

Another frown crossed Manly's face.

"Liebowitz killed my dad." He whispered sadly. "And so I had to kill him to stop him from hurting other people."

"No Michael, Millennium Man killed Liebowitz. Its important that you don't think of yourself as Millennium Man anymore." He flicked through his notes again. "Joseph Liebowitz was very ill, I can vouch for that myself. A few years back, a colleague of mine in Harbour City referred Joseph to me and I tried to help him. At the time none of us knew he was Raven, something I regret to this day and ultimately, Joseph's mental illness had travelled past the point where I could help him outside of Alhazred.if only we'd known that he was a costumed hero then maybe we would have been able to have him interred here or in ECPO but unfortunately, Liebowitz will always be the one that got away.

"Still, despite his illness, he was not entirely beyond help. Even after his destruction of the Tower and the death of your father there was still a chance we could have helped him.if Millennium Man hadn't killed him." Tage looked seriously at his patient. "I'm presuming that Charles Winters was partly responsible for your decline in judgement. Something that is also regretful."

"I miss Charlie." Manly whispered softly.

"Don't." Tage answered abruptly. "He's better off in prison. Perhaps there they can help him as I am attempting to help you." He glanced again at his notes. "Now this Jian Li Fong, you say he is the Silver Shadow, yes?"

Michael nodded sadly.

"And, as we both know, Victoria Burke is Mysteria. Is there anyone else we don't know about?"

Manly's eyes travelled to the empty space between the wall and the ceiling again.

"Can I see Aristotle again?" He asked softly.

Tage sighed and removed his spectacles.

"I'm afraid not, Michael. I don't think Mister Licuan's company would help your situation and besides, due to his unique condition, Aristotle is now firmly occupied with assisting Mysteria, the Vapour and Venus Mantrap track down rogue super-beings in Pacific City's boundaries, with the assistance of the Siege Engine of course."

"Oh." Manly sighed awkwardly. "I miss Aristotle...and Charlie...and Shirley...and even Alfonse."

Tage raised an eyebrow.

"Alfonse? That would be Victoria Burke's butler, yes?"

Manly nodded but said nothing.

"Yes well, I'm afraid Mister Saint Libatique is unfortunately detained at present."

Manly's eyes lit up suddenly.

"He's here? In Alhazred?"

Tage smiled patiently.

"Not yet but he soon will be...maybe."

Another frown crossed Manly's face and he slipped into confusion again.

"Michael?" Tage sighed and clicked his fingers. "Michael? Can you hear me?"

In the distance Manly could swear he heard the crashing of waves against black shores and then, all to quickly the sound faded.

"I am Millennium Man." He announced suddenly. "I know I am."

Tage sighed with frustration and leant back in his chair.

"I'm sorry, Michael." He said sadly. "Perhaps I was too quick in my estimation of your progress."

* * * *

Chimera lit a cigarette with his chubby, purple fingers and stretched, readjusting his sitting position in the awkward chair.

High above, the television set continued to broadcast the news to them, the few, the privileged, the weak. Christmas and New Year had come again in a blaze of monotony. Nothing ever changed in Alhazred. From January to December to January again, the routine of the asylum was always the same. Breakfast, medication, dinner, medication, lounge privileges for the well behaved, medication, back to the cells for sleep.

He looked around him and the noise of the television filtered to the foreground.

'...and in a surprise move, successful publishing company Cook, Castonzo and Carrington announced their merger with industry giant the Cavazos Corporation. At a media conference earlier, a spokesperson for the Cavazos Corporation announced the details of the merger including their aim to rebrand their products under the title of Cook, Castonzo, Carrington and Cavazos. If all goes well we can expect the merger to be finalised by early 2003.'

Omega slept restlessly in a chair besides him whilst War Monger wondered the living room, picking up each individual newspaper, reading the out of date headline and dropping it back where he had found it. In the corner, Baron Black and Cyclone Ranger occupied the chessboard that usually played host to Chimera and Omega's little rivalries whilst Gigantor-Man sat reading a book by the observation window and Eagle-Eye watched intently as Fast-Forward rolled himself another cigarette.

The routine never changed.it couldn't for to do so would bring chaos and anarchy and above all, Alhazred prided itself on eradicating such negative states of mind.

The click of the doors announced the return of the eighth member of their little group. Chimera held a hand up in greeting and glanced at the door in time to see the orderlies escort Michael Manly inside. It was strange to think that the man responsible for putting five of them into Alhazred had been so readily accepted as a part of their group.

"Hi, Michael." Eagle-Eye said nervously, breaking away from his study of Fast-Forward's cigaretterolling for a moment.

Michael waved absently, his slippers scuffing the linoleum before the carpet.

"Hey Edward." Manly murmured, shuffling past.

Eagle-Eye giggled nervously and then quickly returned to watching Fast-Forward.

Slowly Manly sat down on the sofa next to Chimera and stared up at the television, not saying anything.

"They still not taking you off ECT?" Chimera asked after a while, the cigarette burning between his fingers.

Michael shook his head sadly.

"Jesus." Chimera cursed. "What are they playing at? Even Eddy hasn't had the amount of sessions they're giving you and he held the record until you showed up."

Eagle-Eye giggled nervously from across the room.

"Doctor Tage wants me to say I'm not Millennium Man." Manly said sadly, turning his distant eyes towards Chimera's purple face. "But I can't because I am Millennium Man...Aristotle told me so."

Chimera snorted.

"Man, I don't know why you place so much faith in that Aristotle guy. He's working with the cops now. Mayor Jerrod must've neutered him and put him on a lead after they threw you in here. You gotta forget about those guys. If they were your friends then they'd have busted you out by now."

Chimera looked up and flinched away from the torment present in the other inmate's eyes.

"But he has to work with the mayor." Manly protested. "He's not allowed to be a supervillain, it'll kill him."

"Heh, me and him both." Chimera smirked. The joke fell on silent ears. "Anyhow, maybe you should consider telling Tage what he wants to hear. It'd at least get you off the hook as far as ECT goes."

Manly cast his eyes down towards his feet. "I can't." He whispered sadly. "I am Millennium Man."

Chimera took a long slow drag on his cigarette.

"Whatever, man. Its your funeral after all."

* * * *

Cliff Jerrod poured himself a drink and looked out over the silent city. It was silent, the howl of police sirens and the stench of burning ambulance tires on pavement no longer haunting it. For the first time since his election in 2000, the retired superhero felt he had finally made a difference to the city, finally made a change that would not only improve the quality of life for its citizens but also set an example for the entire world.

His message was loud and clear: people didn't have to live in fear of super-beings anymore; there was another way to live. With Mysteria, the Vapour and Venus Mantrap now registered with the police department and coming under the laws of the nation itself and with the awesome power of the Siege Engine, Jerrod had witnessed an absolutely decline of superhuman activity in the city.

Even the terrorist unit known as the Flock that had infiltrated the city in November had been dispatched with swiftly by Mysteria.although the fact that she never once referred to him for advice on the situation was a point of contention for Mayor Jerrod, as was the existence of proclaimed 'psychic detective' Jack Crowley.

They had brought Crowley in for questioning shortly after the New Year but, as the man didn't appear to possess superpowers nor could they find any evidence of vigilante activity, there was nothing they could hold him on. The same stood for Johann Weisz, another American and another back street magician.

Jerrod had known Weisz's father back in the old days and, if the behaviour of the younger Weisz was anything to go by, he found it more than a little maddening to realise that Albert Weisz wasn't as good a parent as he was a hero. The shadows lengthened, night was drawing in but, unlike a year ago, this night was a night that Pacific City did not fear, this was a night when good, honest people could sleep soundly in their beds knowing that nothing would harm them.

"You delude yourself." A voice at his shoulder announced softly.

Jerrod cursed, almost spilling his drink over his shirt and turned slowly to face Aristotle Licuan.

"Don't you ever knock?" Jerrod snapped testily.

"No." Aristotle answered blankly.

"What the hell do you want anyway?" The mayor sighed, still visibly annoyed at being caught off guard.

Aristotle watched him carefully.

"I want to leave." The Bodhisattva announced solemnly. "You can't." Jerrod said without a second thought. "You have a duty to Pacific City."

"Pacific City is not my home." Aristotle continued.

"Nor is it mine." Jerrod countered with a smile. "But we've both got ties here, haven't we? Especially you or do you expect me to believe it was pure coincidence that made Henry Burke move out here?"

Aristotle looked uncomfortable.

"You've been haunting Pacific City since before I was born, Licuan. Just what exactly is it that you're looking for?"

The Bodhisattva turned away.

"That is none of your concern." He informed the mayor.

"Sorry Licuan, but if its happening in Pacific City then it is my concern. What are you looking for?"

Aristotle walked slowly towards the door, his head bent low.

"I shall be attending to Venus Mantrap's...needs, should you require me."

"Goddamn it, don't you walk away from me." Jerrod shouted, quickly catching up and reaching out to seize Aristotle's arm.

Instinctively Aristotle moved and took hold of the mayor's wrist, lifting him up into the air and slamming him uncomfortably down on the carpet outside of the office.

"You forced me into this, Cliff Jerrod." Aristotle hissed, lips curling back and revealing his brilliant white teeth. "I'll do what you say because I'm bound by law to side with you but don't expect me to respect you."

Jerrod looked up at him from where he lay on the floor.

"You son of a bitch." He murmured.

Aristotle ignored him and walked past, heading towards the lift. Slowly, Jerrod got to his feet, watching the retreating Bodhisattva with more than a little contempt. He knew when he was being lied to and he knew when he wasn't being told the truth. He cursed silently beneath his breath. Something would have to be done, not only about Licuan but about Crowley and Weisz also. The lift doors closed softly and Aristotle descended quietly from view.

* * * *

Howard Lane spread over his chair like a dark cancer in a white lab coat. Tage closed the door quietly behind him and sighed inwardly.

"Good morning, Doctor Lane." He nodded, placing the papers and tape recorder down on the desk and looking at the man that occupied his chair. Lane stood up.

"Morning, Doctor Tage. I wanted to talk to you about the Carter kid."

Tage nodded and resisted the urge to rub the bridge of his nose with his fingers in anticipation of the oncoming headache.

Lane moved around the desk and into the visitor's chair, allowing Tage to take his place as the main chair's rightful occupant.

"And what was it that you wished to discuss in regards to young Jeffrey?" Tage asked patiently.

Lane looked nervously around and then leant forwards, whispering conspiratorially: "Are you sure it's a good idea to treat him solely through medication and psychiatry? I mean, shouldn't we at least be considering ECT?"

Tage smiled weakly. "You know better than that, Doctor Lane. ECT can only be administered with the permission of the patient or a close relative. There has been one exception to this rule in the history of Alhazred and I don't think that anyone, however unethical it may have seemed at the time, would have argued the necessity of administering ECT on Michael Manly in order to prevent him from harming himself."

Lane shrugged. "I'm not fussed about the how and why of the situation, I'm simply concerned that Carter's exceptional gift is going to allow him to wake up one day and think himself immune to the narcotics." Lane said, finally getting to the root of the problem. "Now I've seen Michael Manly with my own eyes and I can't believe the change that's come over him. The guy wouldn't even hurt a fly now, let alone a person. Carter on the other hand is still as petulant and arrogant as the day he arrived." Lane leant back triumphantly. "And that's what I'm talking about. That kind of disrespect isn't healthy for the kid's rehabilitation."

"Few things present in Jeffery Carter's situation are helpful to his rehabilitation." Tage sighed. "I fear he's going to be with us a long time."

"Unless we use ECT." Lane reiterated.

"It's worth considering, I suppose." Tage sighed reluctantly.

"Let's wait till the end of the month and Mister Carter's evaluation and then, if the drugs haven't shown any positive results in terms of helping him deal without his powers then we'll consider a more aggressive form of therapy like ECT."

Howard Lane nodded with satisfaction and stood up.

"Thank you, Doctor Tage, that's all I ask for." He smiled and shook hands with his superior before quickly disappearing around the corner of the door and back towards his office.

"No, Howard, all you ask for is that people you consider beneath you suffer accordingly." Tage said sadly.

With a heavy heart he turned once more to his notes.

* * * *

Michael Manly watched the fast paced advert for the new McDonald's Happy Meal promotion with a feeling of slight sorrow. It seemed like years ago that he had stood behind that counter. The distance between the dark house in which he now lived and the golden arches felt like an eternity.

In some ways Tage was right, he did feel like his life had been divided into halves. Only it wasn't as simple as Tage liked to make out. There was no clear definition between Michael Manly and Millennium Man, there was however, a very distinctive shift in how he perceived the time before Alhazred and he perceived the time since his incarceration. The advert faded and was again replaced with Sailor Moon's smiling face.

Manly sighed and glanced around the room at his fellow 'patients'. Over the past hour it seemed that they had taken turns in alternating seats and cigarettes, as if somehow this would break up the monotony of the day. For the first time since school, Manly began to wish he smoked, if only because at least then he might have something to pass the time with.

The voice of Sailor Moon spoke from the television but he tried not to think about her. It was too painful remembering the old days, too painful remembering the look of near childlike glee that spread across Winters' face whenever she had appeared. Sadly he wondered what had happened to all of the people from his previous life.

It was Alhazred policy not to inform members of the public as to the identities of its patients in order to prevent a riot. This was a principle that worked very well if you were on the other side of the great stone walls that surrounded the building but if you were on the inside it simply meant that you weren't allowed any visitors. He missed all of them, especially Regina.it was that much more difficult keeping himself afloat without her.

Silently he looked around the room again, painfully aware of the injustice of the situation. It wasn't right. He had tried to be good, tried to follow the rules and still he had ended up in Alhazred. A wave of self-pitying anger rushed over him and he clenched his fists. The ghost fire remained silent, inaccessible and forever lost. He didn't have his powers anymore but he was still Millennium Man and that was something that could never change.

* * * *

Days passed and again he sat in the chair looking absently at the point between the walls and the ceiling. He hated how clouded his mind had become due to the effects of the ECT, hated how much it had changed him.

"Good morning, Michael." Tage said, just as he said at the beginning of every session. "How are you feeling today?"

"Good morning, doctor." Manly repeated, same as always. "I'm feeling a lot better today."

Tage looked up, a look of confusion on his face. "You definitely sound a lot better." He said hesitantly.

The rules of their game were very simple, the roles they played equally simple. It was unhealthy for the patient to assert his dominance over such proceedings yet the determination in Manly's tone seemed to hint towards the fact that somehow he had found a way to ward off the most damaging disorientation of the drugs and ECT - something that made Tage strangely uncomfortable, even though it was a positive sign of adjustment on Manly's part.

"So...are you ready to talk about Millennium Man?" Tage asked, floundering slightly in search of his questions.

Manly's head turned slowly towards Tage.

"I became Millennium Man in March, 2000 when I inherited the powers of Henry Burke III. I later found out from the Bowler that the powers were never meant for me but were actually intended for Bruce Todd. Despite this I have tried my utmost to fight injustice wherever I see it, to live up to my own ideals and the responsibility people have placed in me." He said, his face expressionless.

Tage nodded slowly.

"And, er, how do the deaths of three people figure into this, Michael?"

There was silence for a moment and then slowly, Michael Manly's eyes drifted back to the point between the ceiling and the walls.

"You can't save everyone." He whispered sadly.

Tage nodded slowly and glanced at his notes again.

"I'm sorry, Michael." He said as he pushed away his chair. "I'm afraid that given what you've just told me I can't see how I can stop the ECT. I really am sorry."

The elderly doctor nodded at the two guards standing either side of the door. Silently, Michael Manly felt another little piece of his self die.

* * * *

Now...

The interview room was dark, wide shadows across the desk where ten days previously Alhazred's head of staff had explained why the electro shock therapy would continue.

Michael Manly lay on his back in the corner of the room and looked up at the familiar join between the walls and the ceiling, listening to the howls and screams that threatened to consume the entire asylum.

Roughly two hours had elapsed since Alhazred had descended into chaos and still there had been neither sirens nor even the faintest glimpse of the powerful Siege Engine machine. They were alone in the shadows just outside of Pacific City, abandoned by the populace at large and left to maim and murder each other until there was no one left.

On his lonely walk to the interview room Michael had seen the bodies, guards and inmates alike, both defiled and empty. Some had been hung; others had been beaten to death whilst others were half-eaten. He chose to ignore them.

"You can't save everyone." He murmured softly under his breath.

Perhaps Tage was right. It wasn't as if he had any powers anymore and surely, without his powers, he couldn't be Millennium Man. He frowned and tried to focus on his thoughts. Concentration had become so difficult ever since.

Hurried footfalls echoed on the stone floor of the hallway, coming ever closer to the dark sanctuary in which the former Millennium Man had chosen to conceal himself.

A strange fear welled up within his stomach. Aside from the staff, everyone else had powers; no matter how subdued they were by drugs and electricity. If any of the patients were to discover him then he wouldn't stand a chance. Before he could pull himself from the ground the intruder had made their way inside, slamming the door shut behind them and sinking to the floor. Languidly, Michael Manly got to his feet.

"W-Who's there?" The voice cried out suddenly.

It was a woman's voice.

Slowly, Manly stepped into the pale light of the setting sun, visible through the bars of the window.

Crouched fearfully by the door was Julia Squire, her hair in disarray and her uniform torn. A thin cut ran down one cheek and her eyes were wide and full of terror.

"Julia?" He asked softly.

Understanding suddenly flashed across her face and in a moment she had leapt from her feet and thrown herself into his arms, sobbing heavily into his chest. Manly nearly fell backwards with the force of her movement but, to his credit managed to remain standing.

He had never seen her like this before. When in the company of Jon she had always been so calm, so in control.now she almost seemed like a little girl, lost and innocent. Awkwardly he ran his hand through her dark hair.

"Oh God, Michael, you don't know how thankful I am to see you." She looked up, her heavy make up smudged in lines down her face. "They killed Jon." She whispered.

The cold fear stung like ice in his stomach.

"Jon...?"

She nodded slowly. "He died...t-they were looking for you...you're Millennium Man, aren't you?"

Fear, anguish and hatred rushed over him.

"Jon's dead?" He whispered.

He staggered, lost balance and together they both fell in an awkward sitting position on the floor. Fire burnt in his mind, anger building bridges through the fog that enveloped his mind, hate repairing what electricity had damaged.

"Bastards." He said softly, tears forming in his eyes. "Bastards killed my dad...and now they've killed my brother."

He was powerless, deprived of the awesome strength bestowed upon by Victoria's father, but even so he promised himself that somehow he would find those bastards and kill them all.

"W-Who killed him, Julia?" He asked, looking down at her soft, shaken features.

"I think it was the one called the Vapour...the steam and ice one, not the flower woman." She replied, her voice shaking. "Jon's mother...your mother was at the funeral, Michael...I don't think she's very well."

"Bastards." Michael repeated, shaking his head slowly.

"M-Michael?" Julia asked, a note of panic creeping into her voice. "We're going to get out of this, aren't we?"

He looked down at her and, despite his tears, he smiled. She smiled nervously back and it was only then that he realised just how truly beautiful she really was.

A moment passed and then slowly she closed her eyes and reached up to him. Their lips met and it felt like the first real human contact he had in years. They kissed and when she finally pulled back neither of them said nothing. They were alone together in the darkest house on Earth with only the souls of the damned to pass judgement upon them. Silently Julia Squire moved forwards and touched his lips again before they both leant slowly backwards and lay down upon the cold floor together.

With shaking fingers and chipped nail polish, she slowly undid his pyjama top and moved herself into a position on top of him, pulling away from his lips for only the briefest of moments before returning once more and kissing him with ever increasing passion.

The screams of a mad world echoed about them but from the moment they first touched neither Julia Squire nor Michael Manly could hear or feel anything but each other.

The sun outside slowly turned a darker shade of red.

* * * *

Alfonse stood calmly on the gravel driveway that led towards Burke Mansion, his arms folded across his chest and a smirk scrawled across his face. An hour and a half ago he had stood within the darkened corridors of Alhazred Asylum as they had erupted into violence, watching as every inmate on the second floor had been granted freedom and an equal footing from which to retaliate against their captives.

He smiled at the thought; there was something poetic about allowing the prisoners to deal out a final and brutal justice to their watchmen. Yet despite his amusement, the smile was short lived.

Before him, the mist twisted and turned a corner, travelling slowly but purposefully forwards. He yawned and stretched his arms towards the sky.

"Do get a move on, Heinrich. You don't have to try and impress me, I've already seen your parlour tricks the last time I kicked your arse."

Begrudgingly the mist solidified into the form of Heinrich Goethe, his face twisted in an expression of contempt.

"So, we meet again, Herr Saint Libatique." The Vapour spat. "I am thinking you think this is very funny, don't you? Well, rest assured, I shall be having the last laugh yet."

Alfonse looked at him incredulously.

"I can't believe it took you thirty odd years to work out that Henry Burke really was Millennium Man."

The villain's twisted into an expression of discomfort and embarrassment. "It was hard to think clearly in Alhazred. The medication they force on you is uncomfortable, to say the least. At times I wasn't even sure if I knew who I was, let alone who Millennium Man was." His eyes moved slowly over his surroundings, finally settling upon Alfonse once more. "But I never forgot you, butler. I never forgot how you humiliated me. You made me looklike a fool in front of the entire supervillain community! When I was in Alhazred even the lesser villains, the idiots like Chimera and Lord Omega laughed at me! They were disrespectful and ignorant, all because of you."

Alfonse barely managed to suppress a yawn.

"If you've quite finished berating yourself perhaps you wouldn't mind it if we got on with things?" Alfonse asked, his tone reflecting his disinterest in the Vapour's topic of conversation.

The villain spat on the ground, his eyes burning with sheer hatred.

"You English disgust me." He sneered. "You think yourself so superior with your petty little stereotypes and you're unwillingness to deal with the end of your empire. Look at yourself, your prime minister is pioneering aggressive military action towards other nations simply because George W. Bush told him so. For all of your boasting, all of your pathetic jibes about World War II, you're little more than a nation of spineless parasites on the belly of America."

The butler moved his head slowly, a slow smile forming on his lips.

"You're right, you know." He said softly. "Military action against Afghanistan and Iraq is wrong. If any other nation in the world had tried it the UN would have tried to prevent such actions but, due to the fact that America is currently acting like a threatened animal in a corner, people are backing away. We're guilty, all of us, of allowing ourselves to be led by people who aren't worthy of our respect just as we're guilty of not making enough effort to help those around us.

"All of us, in one way or another have made the wrong decisions. The lives of nations and the people who populate them aren't that different. But there's one thing you can't take away. Despite how much you degrade another, despite how much you bomb their land, you can never destroy the fact that they are just as much a part of that place as any kind of significant geography." He smiled and dropped into a fighting stance. "Call it pride, call it nationalism, call it whatever you want. You can take the boy out of England but you can't take England out of the boy. Now if you've quite finished yapping, I'm about to hand your arse back to you on a silver platter."

The Vapour stood silently for a moment, uncertain of whatever to say, desperately searching for some kind of response.

Alfonse sighed and clenched his fists, out of the corner of his eye; he caught sight of Aristotle Licuan standing solemnly at the end of the drive, his face contorted in pain and worry.

"If you're not going to finish this then I will." He hissed through his teeth.

The Vapour looked at him and finally opened his mouth to respond. A second later his head swayed on his shoulders, recoiling and slumping forwards, his nose shattered and leaking blood down his face. His eyes span and tried to focus upon the movements of the former English supervillain but found that neither his eyes nor his powers were willing to follow his commands.

Another blow connected with his gut and he doubled over only to focus his eyes just in time to see Alfonse raise his knee.

The Vapour collapsed backwards, blood streaming from his swiftly bruising face and hands clutching at his gut.

"H-Herr Licuan!" The villain called. "Herr Licuan, it...it is your responsibility to heal me."

Alfonse stepped menacingly forwards.

"Take your time, Aristotle. I know for a fact that the walk from the top of the drive to down here can be quite exhausting."

He glanced up to see Aristotle slowly moving towards them. He looked unwell, his back arched and both his hands remained clutching his staff.

"If you heal him, I'm going to have to hurt you as well." Alfonse snapped, never once taking his eyes off the Vapour.

"Y-You must heal me, Herr Licuan, I'm a hero, yes." The other stammered.

Aristotle stopped a short distance from them.

"I'm afraid Mister Saint Libatique isn't listed as a supervillain therefore he is not an enemy of the city and I am not obliged to help you." Aristotle announced, a small hint of triumph creeping into his voice.

Alfonse smiled and cracked his knuckles.

The Vapour turned and looked desperately from the Bodhisattva to the butler, his eyes wide with fear and terror.

"Please gentlemen, please, there has been some misunderstanding, I'm sure. I-I am not the Vapour, no, not at all.I'm, ah, I'm Professor Chilly from Iceland...that's it. Please don't do anything rash; I'm here to help you. I hate the Vapour just as much as the next fellow. It was just a joke. I really respect Millennium Man, honest, I love everything he's done for this city.I have all his books, really."

Alfonse seized him by the shoulders and pulled him up into the air.

"This is for Jonathan Manly." Alfonse whispered coldly.

The Vapour opened his mouth to plead again and failed as his right temple crumpled beneath the force of Alfonse's blow. He stuttered, eyes rolling back as the brain was subject to massive trauma and then his body collapsed to the ground. Alfonse stood triumphantly over the body, watching, waiting for it to draw its last breath.

Slowly Aristotle turned and started to walk up the gravel path once more.

"Aristotle," The butler called out. "Don't be on the wrong side when we meet again."

The Bodhisattva said nothing, he simply kept on walking.

After a minute or two, Alfonse turned and went inside again, leaving the body of the Vapour where it had fallen.

There was movement from upstairs, the sound of feet upon the landing.

"Was that someone at the door?" Victoria Burke called from over the banister, her hair falling slightly over her face.

Alfonse smiled dangerously and looked up at her.

"Not anymore." He responded.

* * * *

The locked office door cracked open, spraying fragments of glass and wood over the carefully carpeted floor. William Tage turned, his face pale and beads of prominent sweat staining his brow. For a moment he glanced back at the corner of the office and seemed surprised to find it suddenly empty.

War Monger stood in the hallway; naked aside from the mask he wore over his face and the dried blood that stained his flesh.

"V-Viktor." Tage began, swallowing hard and trying to disguise the fear he felt.

The former prince said nothing, his eyes enlarged and bloodshot behind the metal as slowly he staggered forwards. Tage glanced at the corner of the room again and then nervously stepped back.

"Viktor, please think about what you're doing." Tage pleaded.

War Monger moved further into the office.

"For over a year you have kept me locked away here." The tyrant prince whispered venomously, his voice low and guttural. "You have separated me from my people and from my family. Now, Doctor Tage, I plan to return the favour by separating your head from your body."

Tage back further away.

"Please, Viktor, you've made so much progress, don't throw it all away." Tage implored him.

"War Monger cares not for progress, War Monger wishes to see justice served." The prince snarled, stepping closer towards the elderly chief of staff. "You have held me here against my will and subjected me to the most barbaric of 'therapies'. For this I shall end your pitiful excuse of a life."

"Think of the consequences, Viktor!" Tage cried in desperation. "I'm your doctor, you don't want to kill me."

War Monger laughed darkly.

"Oh, trust me doctor, I do." He whispered.

As the prince moved ever further, Tage let out a high-pitched, churlish scream. The scream echoed for what seemed like forever down the corridors of Alhazred Asylum followed shortly after by the sickening yet satisfying sound of bones crunching.

* * * *

Regina Darling pushed angrily against the tide of the crowd, her cameraman lost somewhere in the mass of journalists and onlookers that gathered outside of city hall.

Sickness rose within her, the bags under her eyes still present despite how much the make up artists had tried to disguise them. Since Michael's incarceration in Alhazred, she had become lost. Her diet had deteriorated and her sleeping pattern had gone out the window.

It was hard to keep the tears back.

Her tragedy was all over the papers. So far the mayor's office had courteous enough not to reveal Michael's secret but as the months went on she knew it was only a matter of time. She was alone, with no one to turn to, no one to help her, even Winters and Jian were absent.

She fought back the tears, struggling to push her way further to the front of the crowd.

The battered young man in the torn suit and mask turned and looked at her. For a moment their eyes met and then quickly he winked and looked away. She smiled weakly back and prayed that somehow, someway the arrogant young man would find a way to defeat Jerrod and everything he stood for.

The boy looked up and the Siege Engine descended.

* * * *

They lay together for what felt like hours, wrapped in each other's arms as the sun set through the barred windows. He drifted silently in and out of sleep, listening to the soft, peaceful sound of Julia as she slept, her head resting on his chest. It all felt like a strange dream, a distant memory from a buried past. He wasn't sure why it had happened but for now it simply felt right.

He closed his eyes again, no distant moons to burn into his head. When he opened them his breath froze. Staring down at him was the fearful metallic mask of War Monger.

"Hello Michael." The villain hissed, his face so close that Manly could smell his breath.

Julia's eyes snapped open and she screamed in terror. With a single strike from the back of his hand, War Monger knocked her flying across the room, laughing hideously as he reached down and wrapped his hands around Manly's throat.

Manly struggled, trying to push back against the weight of the villain's body but it was useless. He knew War Monger had undergone surgery to increase his powers and he knew the man's penchant for bloody hand to hand combat.

He coughed, his changing colour as he tried to hold onto the last of his breath. And then suddenly the pressure was gone. He blinked up and saw a pair of mutilated purple hands take hold of the tyrant prince and drive his mask covered face into the ground besides Manly.

Manly blinked, desperately trying to gather the energy to move.

"Hello, Mike." Chimera smiled, his blister covered face cracking in a wide grin. "We're here to rescue you."

Manly nodded slowly but unsurely and then turned to see both Fast-Forward and Lord Omega standing awkwardly in the doorway side by side.

There was a sudden roar and War Monger rose once more reached back with his hands and taking hold of Chimera's head. For a moment the smile remained upon Manly's deformed saviour and then his head caved inwards. War Monger dragged himself to his feet, the tattered remains of Chimera falling discarded behind him.

"Bastards." He whispered in his thick accent. "Treacherous bastards."

In an instant, Fast-Forward was behind him, holding his arms in a lock as he roared with fury. Omega smiled as he watched the struggles of his fellow inmate and then his frail body ignited with ghost flame.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do this." He whispered.

A moment later of light burst from his eyes, travelling in a straight path and burning through War Monger's mask and into the very fabric of his brain. The tyrant prince went limp and Fast-Forward allowed him to drop uselessly to the ground. Turning, concern etched firmly on his face, he looked quickly at both Manly and Julia.

"Quickly, there isn't much time left." He whispered in fear.

Manly looked sadly down at the corpses of Chimera and War Monger, both of them fellow prisoners, both never destined to leave the dark house on the hill that overlooked Pacific City. Sadly he rose to his feet and, helping Julia up from where she had landed and joined Fast-Forward and Lord Omega.

* * * *

The Engine held up the limp body of the wounded hero for all the crowd to see before finally slamming it face down against the ground. The boy's breathing was erratic and Regina prayed to God that he had lost consciousness long before he hit the pavement. The crowd remained silent, completely stunned by the display of the Siege Engine's brutality.

Suddenly shattering the silence, Cliff Jerrod stepped forwards, clapping loudly. Venus Mantrap followed after him, looking decidedly human since her rebirth from Manly's own flesh yet none the less arrogant.

"Do you see what happens?" Jerrod shouted to his audience, a broad smile upon his face. He kicked the fallen boy in his side, his face twisting in utter disgust. "This is what happens when you let these things get out of control. This is what happens when you give away the laws that protect you to a race of people who think they're better than you." He looked up at his audience once more... "And they do think they're better than you, trust me. Every single one of those bastards, from Champion to this little punk here are convinced that they have to look after, that you're too fragile to take care of yourself. Well NO MORE! Today is a victory not just for us in Pacific City but also for the whole world! Today we have taken the first step towards reclaiming our world from the supermen!"

A sudden resounding crack of thunder echoed through the sky. Jerrod's head twisted round but saw nothing but terrified journalists and the uncomfortable look of surprise on Venus Mantrap's face. The sky darkened, the fading sun vanishing abruptly as dark clouds fell over the city. Lightening flashed suddenly over them and the thunder roared once more. Car alarms exploded into life, windows shattered and electricity died.

The Siege Engine staggered backwards as if suddenly wounded. In the sky above them Jerrod suddenly noticed a faint point of light moving towards them. At first he thought it was a star but then he noticed the speed it was travelling down towards the surface.

All eyes fell upon as the burning light stopped above Alhazred Asylum, visible on its hill in the distance beyond the city. There was a painful moment in which nothing happened and then suddenly the entire asylum exploded, ancient stone and brick thrown into the emptiness beyond and the blast leaving nothing but a smoking crater in the ground and that painful, fear inducing light.

The light hung there for an entire minute and then started moving again, burning a trench in the ground and churning the concrete and pavement as it entered Pacific City.

The crowd screamed and stampeded but before they could escape it was upon them, dividing the group and tearing through the empty space they left behind.

Jerrod blinked and turned to look at the Siege Engine. There was nothing left of its chest area but steaming hole larger than a human head. In less than four seconds the light had hit the Engine and burnt right through it. The machine staggered and then fell to its knees, its ruined cloak blowing uselessly in the wind.

Jerrod could feel his heart in his throat as he turned and saw the light hovering silently behind them, its sheer radiance burning the ground beneath it. There was another crack of thunder and the light dulled, expanding and unravelling. It grew to the size of a small car and began to peel open, like the shell of an egg to revealed a vast pair of black feathered wings wrapped around a human form in a foetal position.

The wings unravelled and the being stretched, its feet reaching down and touching the ground with such slow and languid grace that the moment seemed to take forever.

Jerrod swallowed hard, staring at the sight of the thin, dark winged angel that stood with his back to them all. Heavy ex-military army boots covered the angel's feet and his trousers looked as if they might have belonged to the matching jacket of a pin stripe suit. The wings themselves extended from below his shoulders, protruding from two lengthy gashes in his long, dark coat. In his left hand he held a massive, ancient sword, its blade still stained by the blood of those it had killed.

"Hello, Cliff." He said, his voice soft and quiet.

Yet despite this everyone in the area heard him.

"W-Who are you?" Jerrod stammered.

He turned, smiling deviously as his sand coloured fringe fell before his overshadowed eyes.

"Erlend Romanov to some." He grinned. "Abdul Alhazred to others."

A frown crossed Jerrod's face.

"Romanov...Romanov..." He repeated the name, trying to work out its significance. Sudden understanding dawned and his went pale. "Oh my God, you're..."

Romanov smiled again and turned to face them all.

"The beast of Screwtape Downs." He nodded, stepping forwards, his heavy boots thudding on the shattered pavement. "The architect of Alhazred Asylum, the god to whom Elizabeth the First prayed to and, most importantly, the cause of your death and the new mayor of Pacific City."

Venus Mantrap stepped forwards, her face displaying no trace of fear whatsoever.

'You don't really want to do that now do you, handsome?' She purred in the empty, voiceless void. 'Come closer, let me help you...'

Still smiling, Romanov continued to walk forwards, stopping in front of her and glancing down at her breasts and erect nipples.

'I'm sure we can settle this without violence.' She murmured soothingly, reaching tentatively up and running her dainty hands through the mess of his hair. 'If we just get to know each other a little better then maybe you'll change your mind.'

She leant in close to him, the seed throbbing on the end of her tongue. Romanov opened his mouth to her and pulled her in close to him. There was silence as the two embraced in a passionate kiss and suddenly Venus began thrashing widely in his arms, blood welling up in her mouth. She pulled back and screamed, blood spewing forth from her mouth.

Romanov smiled and opened his mouth, revealing her torn tongue hanging uselessly between his open teeth. With a single movement he swallowed it whole and wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You stupid cow." He whispered. "Did you really think your useless little spores could infect a body already attuned to divine perfection?"

Venus staggered and then fell dead to the ground, her body decaying before the eyes of all present.

Jerrod looked fearfully down at the disintegrating corpse of his protector and then over at the crippled Siege Engine.

"Y-You can't do this." He began.

"I already have." Romanov grinned.

With a single sweep of the sword, he tore the machine in half and severed Jerrod's head from his shoulders.

The corpse collapsed along the decayed body of Venus and the Engine moved no more.

The crowd watched him in utter awe as he patiently sheathed the mighty sword at his side. No one even registered the battered car that had once been registered in William Tage's name as it rolled carefully to a halt at the edge of the crowd.

Michael Manly, still dressed in pyjamas and dressing gown, stepped out, followed shortly by Fast-Forward, Lord Omega and Julia Squire. He stared blankly at Romanov.

The man's face shifted, suddenly replaced by a woman with flowing dark hair and he gasped suddenly.

"Anna." He whispered.

"Hello, Michael." She smiled seductively.

Regina turned and suddenly burst in tears, running towards him and throwing her arms around him just as Julia had done only hours earlier.

"Oh, Michael." He sobbed. "Oh Jesus, thank God you're alright."

Manly reached up and tried to comfort her with his awkward, disobedient hands. All eyes remained on Romanova.

"Welcome home, hero." She smiled.

"I can't...I'm...I'm not...not anymore."

Romanova arched a feminine eyebrow.

"I think you'll find that you are." She whispered softly, her words failing to register with all those that surrounded them. "Consider it a gift from me."

He started shaking uncontrollably, unable to contain himself anymore.

"I think we should go inside." Romanova said seriously.

Manly nodded but said nothing.

"Oh, but before I do." She turned her cold eyes towards Fast-Forward. "This is for putting me in Screwtape. Goodbye, William."

A single tear ran down Fast-Forward's cheek and his head exploded.

No one noticed.

Without another word, Romanova turned towards city hall and began walking patiently up the stone steps. In silence Michael Manly, Lord Omega and Regina Darling followed after her.

Left standing outside Julia Squire wrapped her arms around herself and watched in numb amazement with the rest of the crowd. At her side lay Fast-Forward's ruined body but in her heart emotional poison had already began to form. The doors closed behind them but Julia Squire said nothing, she simply watched the first meaningful possibility of a relationship turn and exit from her life.

Inside the poison began to move that much swifter through her veins crying silently for revenge. Above the city, the clouds hung heavy that night.