Darkness shrugged off the EMTs and shouldered through the scrum of fussing personnel who, he noted ruefully, had not seemed nearly so concerned with his well-being when Bam had actually attacked him.

"I'm fine," he insisted, "how long have I been unconscious?"

"About twenty minutes," someone said helpfully.

"Right. Where's Freya?"

"With Baxter," another voice answered.

Darkness got to his feet and the doctors, ring agents and other assorted hangers-on parted before him. "And Bam?"

No answer was forthcoming from the crowd this time, so Darkness snorted and walked through the gap they'd left, heading for the doctor's office. When he reached the small room, he found Freya sitting on a bench, being attended to by Thomas Baxter. The man was trying to apply stitches, but Freya continually batted him away.

"I told you, it doesn't need stitching up."

"Now come on, you've had a nasty scrape, young lady..."

Freya replied with a low growl that entirely bypassed the rational, intelligent part of Thomas Baxter and drilled right into his monkey hindbrain, reminding him that it had been but the blink of an eye (geologically speaking) since all that lay between him and messy death in the night was ten feet of bark and sap. The doctor's nicotine-stained fingers were snatched back to his chest and he backed off a few steps.

"Better." Freya turned to Darkness and smiled brightly. "So how are you?"

"I've been better."

"Did you walk into a bar too?"

"Something like that."

Darkness dabbed at a spot of blood that was forming on his forehead and Baxter seemed to recover himself somewhat. "Do you want me to look at that for you?"

"I've never availed myself of your dubious services before, doctor," Darkness replied, "and I don't intend to start doing so now."

"Right..."

"I believe we have a match," Darkness said, turning back to Freya.

"Me and you?"

"Yes. And Bam."

"That's very foolish of him. He of all people should know our track record."

Darkness shrugged. "Well indeed, but things are more complex than that, I think."

"How so?"

"It's triple-threat, for the World Titles. As far as I can make out from the rumours and hearsay that were flying around on my way here anyway."

Freya frowned. "So it's the three of us in a match for your belts? Every being for themselves?"

"Quite."

She grinned. "I guess I'm finally getting the recognition I deserve."

Darkness humoured her for a second before holding up a hand. "Need I remind you that your own belt is potentially on the line too?"

"Pfft...so what? It's always ‘potentially on the line'." Her fingers waggled in the air as she slid off the bench.

"There is an added issue..."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Women's intuition?"

Freya stuck out her tongue and leant against the bench she'd just hopped off, waiting for Darkness to continue. The World Champion glanced sidelong at Baxter, but the doctor showed no signs of taking the hint, so he forged on anyway. "Naturally, Bam could walk out with all the belts if he were to, say, pin you when you were bleeding"

"Not bloody likely..."

"Right. But he could also pin you without making you bleed and win my belts."

"Also not blo..."

"Please let me finish." Darkness took a breath, "The point I plan to eventually reach is that, if either of us is pinned, one or both of us will lose our belts."

"Yes, that's how these things usually work," Freya said, rolling her eyes extravagantly.

"And do you recall what Stern will do if that happens?"

Freya blinked. "Huh?"

"As soon as one of us loses our titles, the unfortunate former Champion will be, as they don't say in this part of the world, out on their ear."

She nodded. "Yeah, I'd forgotten that."

"I thought you probably had."

"Well," she went on, for once ignoring his barbed comment, "I guess we'll have to make sure Bam doesn't pin either one of us. If we take him out of action, then we can..."

"No, Freya," Darkness interrupted again, "because if I pin you while you're bleeding I win your belt - and you get fired - and if you pin me, you'll be the World Champion. And I'll get fired."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"So you're saying that I can't win this match?"

"Not unless you want to see me kicked out of TCW, no."

Freya pursed her lips as she folded her arms across her breasts. "This is...quite a conundrum..."

"Not really. The status quo is preferable to either of us being forced out of the promotion. As long as I pin Bam, there's no problem."

"True..."

"Is there any reason you can think of that one of us losing our jobs would be a better solution?" Darkness asked, his tone growing slightly darker. He knew she could smell his emotions, so felt no need to give Baxter any more fuel for the rumours he was doubtless already formulating.

"Of course not. You'll just have to make sure I'm in a good mood with you when we step into the ring, won't you?"

Freya straightened and walked past Baxter, who tried one more desperate lunge with his needle, only for Freya to neatly sidestep him. She tapped a finger against her head wound, which was now suspiciously dry. "See? All better now."

Baxter frowned at the healed wound, but Freya was out of the door before he could reach any conclusions. Darkness watched her leave and crossed his arms carefully as he leant back against a desk. "I'll have to put my trust in her..." he said to himself.

"Right, ‘cause otherwise you'll lose your job," Baxter said.

"Yes," Darkness replied, nodding absently as he stood up and headed for the door, "that too."

* * *

"I'm not a big fan of unprovoked attacks, Bam..."

"Unprovoked?" Bam turned on the Commissioner and slapped his hands against her desk. "I think I have a very good reason for attacking Freya like I did."

Stern looked at his wide hands, splayed on her desk. Bam was still in his ring-attire, and his crimson gloves were a stark contrast to the dark surface of her modern desk. Stern didn't believe in empty show - not if what you were showing didn't hide a nugget of truth anyway - and she hadn't hesitated to dispose of the mahogany desk favoured by her predecessor. It had been covered in crayon etchings anyway.

The silence stretched, and Bam finally took his hands off the desk, at which point Stern started speaking again. "I may have misunderstood, Bam, but I was under the impression that you were one of these strange old-fashioned men who thought that women were to be protected. All the better to oppress them, after all."

"Are you saying you're surprised I hit a girl?"

"Should I bring Adam in to translate for me, or is this repetition and questioning of everything I say motivated by something other than incomprehension?"

Bam growled under his breath, but Stern seemed unmoved. "You can drop the intellectual act, Valerie, I may look slow, but I'm not an idiot."

"You could have fooled me."

"I don't have to stand here and take this..."

"No you don't. You know where the door is - you came through it just a few minutes ago. Or perhaps," she said, fixing him with an icy gaze, "you'd like to set about me with a steel pipe too? You wouldn't be the first."

"Will you set David Hardy on me too?" Bam smirked.

"Not at all. I'm still convinced Drako might actually be useful to me in some capacity. I wouldn't hesitate to eject you from this arena and this promotion if you were to repeat his actions, however. You'd never work in this town again, Bam, and my ‘town' is very big indeed..."

"Get to the point, Valerie," Bam grunted, "I don't have all day to stand around exchanging pleasantries with you."

"Of course not. You have women to beat. Bam - why did you attack my two biggest stars on live television?"

"That's how things work around here, Val," Bam said with a smile that split his face in two, "I thought you'd have figured that out by now."

"No, that's how things used to work around here. Idiotic actions like laying out main eventers with steel pipes are exactly what I'm trying to breed out of TCW. It's exactly the sort of silly business - silly precisely because it's not how any sane person actually does business - that I brought you in to stop from the likes of Darkness and Freya."

"And yet David Hardy has carte blanche to lay into people with a chair, so long as it's someone you don't like?"

"That's neither here nor there," Stern replied without missing a beat, "the Drako situation is different, as I've explained."

"Are you sure it isn't the David Hardy situation that's different?" Bam asked with a smirk.

"Are you trying to imply something, Bam? Because I'm not a fan of implications. You say what you mean or you get out of my office."

"Do we have anything more to talk about? Are you going to give me the match I want?"

"You know I am. I was about to walk out and announce it before you barged in with your steel pipe."

"I saved you the trip then."

"Quite. Good luck in your match, Bam - and try not to make yourself more trouble than you're worth to me. You don't have a belt to protect you like your opponents."

Bam was about to bite off another reply, but Stern had already returned to the papers on her desk and it seemed to take her no effort at all to ignore the three-hundred-pound man in front of her. With a low grunt, he turned on his heel and left the skybox.

* * *

Darkness was halfway to the arena's entrance when a vibration in his pocket caught his attention. Shifting his belts higher onto his shoulders, he pulled out the cell phone and flicked it open. "Green button..." he whispered to himself unconsciously as he answered the call and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is that Mr....uh...Darkness?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"My name's Detective Ken Richmond. I work for the LAPD."

"What can I help you with, Detective Richmond?"

"Um...I have with me an...associate...of yours..."

Darkness frowned. "Associate?"

"He claims to be, yes. His name is..." There was a long pause, and Darkness heard a faint second voice on the other end of the line. It sounded familiar. "Like the knight? Right. Yeah...his name is Gawain."

"I know him, yes," Darkness said slowly, "why is he in Los Angeles? Or are you on holiday, Detective?"

"No, I'm in LA. And so is he. Uh...Mr. Gawain is in possession of a credit card in your name which he was found wrestling from the hands of a ten-year-old boy."

"Right. It seems like there's some sort of ridiculous piece of the puzzle I'm missing. Is he in any trouble?"

"Well, the child's family haven't filed any charges yet - apparently they seem to think this episode might scare him into good behaviour. As long as you can corroborate his identity, there'll be no problems."

"Well, I'll corroborate it then. He's Gawain."

"No...I mean, you have to come here and corroborate it. As soon as you arrive and confirm your own identity and attest the card wasn't stolen, we'll release him."

"I'm currently in Venezuela, Detective."

"Oh..."

"But never mind. I'll be there as soon as I can. I'm sure you have room in your cells for my...associate...yes?"

"Oh don't worry about that, sir."

Darkness sighed and snapped the phone shut. Shaking his head, he resumed course for the arena exit and mentally planned how soon he could get to an airport and book a flight to LA.

Darkness rummaged through the drawers of the bureau in his hotel room. Finally, he pulled out a small maroon passport.

"Going somewhere?"

The voice came from the shadows, and the only discernable feature of the shape in the gloom was a pair of gleaming eyes.

"I have to go to Los Angeles to get Gawain." Darkness seemed unsurprised by the appearance of the figure in his room, and continued to ready himself by pulling on his jacket.

"I told you before that these werewolves are trouble."

"And I told you that they're important. This is just a minor incident. Something to do with a credit card."

"A credit card? What does the Antichrist need with a credit card?" The shadow's voice had begun to rise. "You shouldn't be dealing with matters like this. You should be out there," a movement by the shade could have been a waved arm, "with the rest of your Order, fighting this war."

"This is where I'm fighting this war." Darkness stepped towards the door but the shadow moved to intercept him. "I don't have time for this," he said in a low voice.

The shade retreated and Darkness left the room. The gleaming eyes watched the door close before lids covered them and the suite was left empty.

**

"When you're ready, Lleny."

Freya stood in the middle of the practice room - formerly a dining room in the extensive suite Darkness had hired, now with all the furniture pushed to one side and mats spread across the floor - her long-bladed knives drawn, eyes closed.

"Don't call me that," Llenlleawg growled, circling her, his spear-stave in hand.

"Don't talk, Lleny, you're meant to be attacking me by surprise, remember?" She waited, cocked her head to one side and smiled. The room had been used by The Children continuously for weeks now, and Llenlleawg's circular motions left her unable to focus on his location immediately. She was forced to concentrate hard to anticipate the direction from which he would strike. She straightened up, spun around and raised her weapons.

There was a clash as spear met knives. Freya opened her eyes and looked down at the spear head that was inches away from her exposed midriff. "You're getting closer," she said, smiling at the young werewolf, "if you hadn't dragged your heel, you would have had me."

Llenlleawg pushed on his spear-stave and forced Freya backwards. "I'm not done yet." He pushed Freya further back with a series of jabs and prods.

Freya frowned slightly at the onslaught. She increased the speed of her parries and managed to halt his advance. "Is this all you've got, Lleny?"

The young man grunted and swung the shaft at Freya knees. "I told you not to call me that!"

Freya jumped back before lunging one of her knives forward. It's tip touched his chest.

"You left yourself open there." Freya went to take Llenlleawg's spear to demonstrate how he could have defended himself, but he jerked it away. She gave him a small smile and looked around for something else to use. A blunt practice stave leant against the wall, and she walked over to get it.

"You need to do it a bit more like this..." Freya spun the pole before her as Llenlleawg had done, but twirled it so that the haft followed the motion of the blade and ended up crossing her chest to intercept an invisible counter-attack.

Llenlleawg tried it a few times. "Thanks. That's more than Darkness would have done."

"What would Darkness have done?" Freya asked, putting the practice stave back.

"Told me I wasn't training hard enough."

"Aren't you?"

"I'm here training now..."

"What about Rev?" Freya could smell the mixed emotions the dhampyr's name evoked.

"She does as she pleases."

"And what does Darkness say?" Freya picked up her knives and the two started circling again.

"Nothing." He jabbed with his spear-stave, but Freya deftly knocked it aside. "It's not like he has a lot of time for us. I train, and she keeps to herself until he asks for her."

"Really?" Freya dropped her blades slightly. "Is that how these things usually work?"

Llenlleawg shrugged. "How should I know? We don't exactly have a lot to do with the rest of the Order do we?"

"That's true I suppose," Freya agreed, "I think a Slayer usually only trains one Neophyte at a time though. And I don't think the First has much to do with any of that stuff."

"Needs must, I guess. Desperate times and all that."

Freya frowned. "I suppose..."

**

"Darkness!"

Darkness looked around and saw Gwen striding across the waiting area. He smiled slightly and pushed a strand of dark hair away from his face. The other occupants of the room gave the tall, white-haired woman in the strange clothes cursory looks.

"Where's Gawain?" he asked.

"I don't know. They wouldn't let me see him." Gwen looked worried. "You are going to make them let him out, aren't you?"

"I didn't come all this way to leave him here." Darkness left Gwen and walked over to the bored looking cop behind the desk. "I've come to pick someone up."

"Name?" the officer asked, not looking up from his paperwork.

"Darkness."

"We don't have anyone here called that..." The officer finally looked up. "Hey...aren't you...?"

"Yes. I've come to..."

"Can you sign something for my kid? He's a big fan."

"Fine." Darkness took the paper and pen that was offered. "What's his name?"

"Alex." The cop peered forward as Darkness did his thing.

"I was contacted to come and..." Darkness tried again.

"I saw that match of yours the other night. That guy really did a number on you and that firecracker of yours."

"Firecracker?" Darkness asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah. The brunette." He wrinkled his brow. "She's got a weird name..."

"Freya," Darkness replied flatly, "and she's not my anything. I came here to get Gawain. I've flown from Venezuela because you needed to see me." He dug out his passport and slapped it on the desk. "You've seen me. Here's my ID. Can I have my friend back please?"

"Sure, sure." The cop rummaged about in his desk for the paperwork, "just stick your John Hancock down here." He pointed with a stubby finger. While Darkness read the form, the officer pressed a button on the intercom next to him. "Hey, Louie, can you bring the guy in cell four down?"

Darkness handed back the form and the officer checked it over. "You're all ready to go," he said finally, "you can collect the kid from near where you came in."

"Thank you," Darkness replied, turning sharply on his heel.

"And thanks for this." The cop held up the autograph. "You're going to make his year."

"I wouldn't speak too soon," Darkness told him, but didn't wait for a response to his cryptic remark. He nodded to Gwen and headed for the exit. When they got to the collection point, they found Gawain being given back his possessions.

"One MP3 player..." the guard said, checking it off the list, "One Gameboy..."

"Hey, that's a PSP," Gawain replied indignantly.

The cop looked over his glasses at Gawain. "One credit card..." he continued, unfazed.

"I believe that's mine," Darknes said, stepping forward.

"Heeey!" Gawain slapped Darkness on the shoulder, "You won't believe how silly this all got!"

Darkness looked at the guard behind the glass. "Is he all done?"

The man nodded, and Darkness led them out of the police station.

"Where are we going?" Gawain asked as they walked down the street.

"What were you doing here?" Darkness said by way of reply, stopping and turning to face the twins.

"Oh, man, I'm so glad you asked." Gawain pulled his magazine from the pocket of his leather jacket. "I had this great idea. I was going to get some of these for you; get them all kitted out." He held open the magazine at the relevant page, showing him the fleet of hummers.

"You were going to order me cars? With my own money? Without even asking me?"

"Well...I thought you'd like it. We can't go everywhere on your bike. I was going to make them all black - really cool - and I thought of putting..."

"I don't care what you thought." Darkness squared up to Gawain. "You were going to spend my money on this..." he hit the magazine out of his bodyguard's hand, "...trash?!"

"But it's cool! I thought it was all about the image!"

"Why would you think that?"

"Because...because of the pyros...and the music...and the fans..."

"That's not why I do this. I don't care what people think of me!"

Gwen leant in. "You did sign an autograph for that cop in there..."

Darkness glanced at her. "Do you have something to say?"

"I think you're being a bit hard on Gawain," she said, raising her chin defiantly.

"I don't think I've been hard enough." Darkness rounded on her. "How did you come to be here?"

"Well...I thought we were just going for a walk..."

"And going into the airport didn't make you suspicious?" he snapped. "You didn't notice getting on a plane?"

"Well, by then I just thought..."

"You didn't think though. You lot never do."

"What do you mean by ‘you lot'?" Gawain growled.

"Everyone. You all act like this is some kind of game; as if I'm doing this for my own satisfaction."

"Well why are you doing this?" Gwen asked.

"I don't exactly have a lot of choice! Either I do it or the world is going to be destroyed!"

"No," she shook her head, "I mean the wrestling thing. Why do you do that if it's not about your image and what people think of you?"

Darkness met her golden eyes for a moment before shaking his head. "I'm not interested in this argument," he growled. He turned his back on the werewolves and walked down the street. After a few seconds, they followed him silently.

**

Bam looked around his hotel room. He'd just rematerialised, but knew it wouldn't be long before Diego's goons found his room. He pulled the box with the Crimsyn Suit out from under the bed. He placed his hand on the scanner, and after its usual wirring and clicking the clasps opened.

He lifted the suit out of its case. There was only one way out of this situation now. And perhaps after that, the same solution would solve his other two problems...

The door slammed open under the impact of a stylish wingtip and the henchman stepped into the darkened room, gun drawn. He turned this way and that, encompassing every corner of the suite in the weapon's lethal gaze. He was young, his sun-darkened skin covered in a sheen of nervous sweat. Diego didn't ask for volunteers to go on point at times like this - usually his wrath outweighed whatever risk was on the other side of the door, but this time the soldier had his doubts. Where had Bam disappeared to when he took the boss down that corridor anyway?

The other gangsters stepped in after the young man, all levelling their own pistols so that every square foot of the room could potentially be bathed in hot lead.

"He's not in here," one of the men growled.

Diego entered. His gun was drawn too, but it was held low at his side. It would be a dire situation indeed if he ever had need to use the weapon in anger.

"Where else would he go?" Diego spat.

"How...how did he get away, boss?" It was the kid on point that spoke this time.

"He just ran away," Diego said, slightly too quickly, "and our men are guarding the exits. He hasn't left the hotel."

"Well he's not here." One of the goons lifted his gun and, suddenly, a dark shape descended from its perch above their heads. He was disarmed before he could call out and an elbow slammed into the side of his head. A second later, his arm was twisted out of its socket and he fell to the floor screaming.

The rest of the gangsters opened fire immediately, but in the darkness they couldn't seem to hit their assailant. Two gleaming blades were suddenly unsheathed and another henchman fell to the floor with a high-pitched yell, but this time it wasn't a broken arm that was his concern, but a bloody stump where his arm used to be.

The blades spun like a monstrous propeller, scything through the gangsters like wheat and sending them to the carpet in pools of blood and dismembered body parts. Shots continued to ring out, but any that came near the terrifying shadow glanced off the whirling swords. Only Diego held his fire, stepping back into the doorway and lifting his pistol slightly.

It was the young point-man who was the last one left standing. He stared at the massive shadow, seeing his own trembling face reflected in the baleful red eyes of the otherwise featureless mask. Time slowed down to the consistency of glue as he tried to lift his pistol.

Another man might have spared the novice - perhaps just a street punk who had fallen in with a bad crowd - then, but there was no mercy behind that mask. Justice was all he could see through the red lenses, and justice is swift...and brutal...

With a single sweep, the man was decapitated, his head sent spinning across the room to land by Diego's foot, its expression of terror etched on its unblemished, youthful features for the rest of time.

The mob boss didn't even blink as he placed a foot on the forehead of his former henchman and levelled his gun.

"Always so showy, Bam," he smirked, "you know you leave yourself open when you do that..."

Bam's masked face jerked up. He had been lost in the moment, and that was all the opening Diego needed. He pulled the trigger, and the glue thickened even more.

There was a ring of metal glancing off metal as the bullet slammed into the Crimsyn Suit's mask and bounced off harmlessly. Diego couldn't see the smile, but he didn't really have to.

* * *

Freya rubbed her face as she sat down on her bed. Her own hotel room was not on the same floor as the enormous suite occupied by Darkness and The Children, since she had enough trouble distancing herself from the mess that was that dysfunctional family right now - and a couple of them really were her family, which only made things more annoying.

She was in an odd place. Since she'd arrived in the fed, she'd been out to prove herself; she could admit that she might have tried a little hard sometimes, setting up strawmen chauvinists to stand in for the prejudice she didn't really encounter. Still, it had gotten her what she wanted - which was really just respect and her own life to lead.

She'd never looked to be World Champion. Did she look like Rachel Hunter or that ginger girl in FWRFed? No, she was content to make her own way in the world without resorting to theft or mugging people.

But now things were different...it wasn't in her nature to back down from a fight, even if it did mean bad things for her friends if she didn't. Could she really bring herself to hold back for Darkness's sake? She knew she could beat him; she'd done it before.

And after all, maybe it would be better for him if...

"Freya."

She was on her feet faster than thought, spinning around so quickly that she might have flown. Her knives weren't to hand, so she just raised her fists and bared her teeth. Every instinct in her body was telling her to change shape, but she had no idea who it was in her room, and she couldn't afford to reveal her nature to just anybody.

There was a dark shape in the shadows and, to her horror, she could smell nothing.

"Show yourself!" she shouted, trying to sound commanding. How would Darkness have said that?

"I think not." It was a man's voice.

"If you don't...you'll be in trouble..."

The shadow did the worst thing it could possibly have done in Freya's opinion: it chuckled. With a low, animal growl, Freya dived across the room, clearing the bed in a single bound. She drove a knee into whoever it was, feeling solid muscle beneath her, which she found oddly reassuring for some reason. She flailed at the stranger with unscientific, frenzied blows. Robbed of her most powerful sense, she couldn't bring any of her training and experience to bear. Was this how Darkness had felt that time Drakus put him in a coma?

She didn't have time to think anything else, as muscular arms encircled her and hurled her to the bed. She bounced right back up to her feet and threw a kick, but a walnut-brown hand grabbed her foot and unbalanced her, sending her tumbling to the floor.

"I don't want to fight you..."

A strange wave of reassurance seemed to wash over her and, for a second, her vision seemed to be clouded by an immense swirling star field.

"Then why are you attacking me?!" she yelled, shaking her head to recover herself.

"I'm not. You're attacking me."

"You sneaked up on me in my room!"

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did!"

"I..."

Freya didn't let him get any further, instead she lashed out with one trainer, kicking him right where it looked like his groin might be. It was a direct it, but there was no crumpling; no sign that the attack had even been felt.

"Oh come on! This is hardly fair!" she wailed.

"Fair?" The voice seemed to change, gaining a thunderous power as the shape drew itself up. "Do you think life is fair? Do you think, when the Abyss comes, they will give you the opportunity to defend yourself? Do you think they will show such convenient weaknesses?"

"Darkness?!"

The shape stepped out of the shadows into the dim moonlight that sneaked in around the curtains. His eyes gleamed like stars and shining black hair hung down across his brown shoulders. He extended a strong, smooth hand to her.

"Jael..." Freya allowed herself to be helped up. "I thought you'd..."

"Gone?"

His face was as beautiful as she remembered from what she had briefly seen of him on the mesa, and bore the same traces of some bone-deep sorrow. She nodded dumbly at him.

"I've been...around..." he said.

"Why are you here?"

"I ask myself that every day."

"No, I mean...why are you here. In my room. Right now."

"I know what you meant." He smiled, and Freya's heart skipped a beat.

"You didn't answer me."

Jael let go of her hand, and she realised that he'd been holding it for the last minute. He walked past her and pushed aside the curtains so that his bare torso was bathed in the crisp light of the full moon. Freya kept in the shadows, suddenly embarrassed about potentially changing form in front of this creature. She was glad she'd been smart enough not to transform earlier.

The angel had no wings, but she didn't know if that was just the way things worked, or if they were hidden somehow. He rested his head against the French window, and she couldn't help noticing that no breath misted on the glass in front of him.

"I need help," he said softly.

"You do?"

"Yes. With Darkness."

"Well don't we all?"

The muscles in his eyes indicated that he glanced at her, but he had no pupils, only a whirlpool of stars in each dark orb, so she couldn't be sure he was really looking in her direction.

"This is different."

"Yeah?"

"He's in trouble."

"How?"

"There is a war..."

"So he keeps telling me."

"It's good that he knows it too. I wondered if I was getting through to him at all."

Freya's eyes narrowed slightly. "Getting through to him? Have you and he been talking?"

Jael didn't answer her question. "The war has begun," he continued instead, "and still he wastes his time fighting for the mob."

"I...I think he has his reasons..." Freya replied, not at all sure that he really did.

"So he says, and yet he is never helpful enough to elaborate. He knows what's at stake - he knows what happened on the Bridge of Phlegyas."

Freya nodded. She had been with Darkness when he found the remnants of the Host of Heaven on the bridge in Hell.

"I didn't come here to watch him win golden belts and fight strangers with whom he has no quarrel. He should be with his Order, winning this war. What is achieved by him risking defeat and humiliation every night in a wrestling ring? What do our enemies think of him, falling victim to blundering attacks by fools with steel pipes?"

"I...I think it's complicated...something about being the Antichrist..."

Jael turned to her and she had to take a stumbling step back as her soul was bathed in the light of galaxies. "He wastes his time. He wastes my time. While he lay unconscious a night ago, what was to stop a vampire killing him? Or an ordinary man sworn to the Void? How can he justify such foolishness?"

"I...don't know..."

"You have to help me, Freya," Jael said, "you have to make him see the danger he puts himself...and the whole world...in..."

He was holding her hand again, and she couldn't do anything but nod.

Darkness opened the door to the room used by The Children and let the two large white wolves enter before him. There were about ten other wolves in the room, and one or two got up to greet their returning brethren. He glanced around. The room was dark except for the light of the full moon that filtered through the windows, so several pairs of glowing eyes stared back at him.

Llenlleawg sat in one corner, conspicuous in humanoid form. The young werewolf ignored Darkness, instead engrossed in a computer game that he supposed had been borrowed from Gawain.

"Where's Revenant?" Darkness asked him as he dropped the bundle that contained Gwen and Gawain's clothes and possessions.

"Dunno," Llenlleawg replied, shrugging.

"Don't you think you should be training?" Darkness flicked the switch on the wall next to him, and the room was suddenly bathed in light.

"No."

"No?"

"No. I trained with Freya earlier."

"Well maybe I want to train with you now." He stepped forward. A low growl sounded to one side, but Darkness couldn't tell which of the wolves had made it.

"Why don't you go find Rev. She's more nocturnal; she might enjoy training at this time of night."

"I make it my business to give the orders, Neophyte, not take them."

There was another low growl, but this time the werewolf made its presence known by rising up onto its haunches, teeth bared. Darkness turned and looked at it. In lupine form, the werewolves were difficult to tell apart - except for the two pairs of siblings, Gwen and Gawain and Hruod and Huon - they were all varying shades of neutral brown or grey. This one say slightly apart from the others, its piercing green eyes burning into him.

"This is none of your business, Freya," Darkness snapped.

He tried not to show his surprise as the werewolf stepped into the shadows out of the glare of moonlight and then rose up into humanoid form with a sickening crunching sound. As a biped, he was demonstrably male, and Darkness realised he had actually been addressing Lir. The werewolf growled again.

"Fine," he growled back, "I will see you tomorrow though." He turned on his heel, the bottom of his coat fanning out before slamming the door behind him.

**

Freya woke up in her room, the sun shining through the curtains she'd opened the night before. She glanced around to check Jael hadn't returned. He hadn't, or if he had then he was choosing to remain invisible. Freya couldn't remember much about the previous evening, only the stars, but she knew she had to go and see Darkness. She'd made up her mind now that the best thing that could happen was for him to rejoin the rest of the Shadow Slayers. As he was always so keen to point out, there was a war going on.

She pulled on the crumpled jeans beside her bed and the first t-shirt that came out of her bag. After briefly checking her appearance in the mirror and deciding it was good enough, she made her way to the floor above and wandered towards the practice room in hopes of finding Darkness. The room was deserted. She flicked on the lights, blinking in their fluorescent glare.

Stars.

She shut her eyes, and saw a swirling starscape where there was normally just black. A strange feeling ran through her - the same steel warmth she'd felt when Jael grabbed her hand last night - and almost thought he was standing behind her for a second. Watching her.

Freya looked around at the equipment in the room. A blue manikin stood in one corner. She walked over to it and flicked a switch on the back of its head. Red lights flashed over the body: head, shoulders, sternum, stomach. There wasn't much point chasing after Darkness, she decided; better to wait for him to come to her.

As the red lights continued to flash, Freya struck them lazily. The sequence of lights began to flash more rapidly, taking up her concentration so much so that, when the lights were suddenly turned off, she yelped in surprise.

She spun around, eyes quickly adjusting to the dark room. Someone, in their infinite wisdom, had made sure the blinds in here were permanently closed so as not to invite any awkward questions from people across the street who might look in. She stepped away from the still-flashing training dummy, not wanting to be silhouetted against the bright lights. She sniffed, trying to get any trace of the other person in the room.

No scent: the werewolf musk that had hidden Llenlleawg from her the day before was hiding whoever was in the room with her now. There were footsteps. Someone was coming closer and they weren't even trying to hide it.

"Darkness?" Her voice sounded small in the large room. "Jael?" she tried, hoping the angel was just making another suspicious entrance. The footsteps stopped but the stranger had still not identified themselves. "Hruod, Huon, stop messing about," she said, hoping it was just the brothers playing a practical joke.

"Would you like to try any more?" The voice sounded metallic and distorted. It reminded her of someone from long ago.

"Vindicator?"

A hand grabbed her around the throat and lifted her from the ground. "Guess again."

She could make out the shape of some kind of suit or armour. From beneath the unfamiliar silhouette, she found the scent she was looking for. "Pebbles..."

The arm swung and sent her flying into a set of practice staves that were leaning against a wall. Freya shook off the plaster dust and looked up from where she was entangled in the wooden sticks. The red lights on the manikin were still flashing, reflecting off metal panelling. Whatever he was wearing seemed to cover him from head to toe, with no obvious weak spots.

"I didn't think it was honourable to hit women?" she asked, struggling to get to her feet.

"There isn't. But you're no woman."

"What?! Trust me, Pebbles, I'm very definitely a girl. Didn't you do sex ed?"

"A female maybe, but of which species?"

Freya almost laughed. "Is that it? You've decided werewolves aren't people? Isn't that a little...speciesist?"

The hulking shape stalked towards her and hauled her to her feet by the hair. "Not at all. I didn't think you were worthy of that belt before you attacked my men."

"They attacked us, you mean."

"Your side struck first."

Freya thought back, but couldn't remember. "You just believed your goons then, did you?"

"You aren't the only one with powers..."

"Then I guess you aren't as human as you look."

Bam snarled. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"You're right, but I'm sure if I keep poking I'll get somewhere near the truth. Don't tell me...I bet Bleeder had something to do with it, didn't he?"

The only answer Freya got was being hurled into a wall. This time she did laugh. His flash of anger had been potent, and it had almost smelt like Hellfire.

"So is this honourable? Beating up opponents before a match to gain an advantage?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

"Ah..." Freya stood up. She could feel a trickle of warmth run down the side of her head, but she didn't want to give Bam the satisfaction of checking where it was coming from. She didn't know how well he could see behind that mask, but she doubted a suit that looked as flash as that would skimp on something simple like night vision.

She charged towards Bam, but was swatted away like an insect. She landed awkwardly on a box and thought she felt something crack. Breathing suddenly became painful.

Freya looked over at the man she couldn't beat like this, who she wasn't sure she could even fight her way past. Bam took a step towards her, but paused when the door of the room opened.

Jashith Kuar watched from his perch on the mountainside above a wide, desolate valley. The air was thin this high in the Taurus Mountains, but he showed little sign of it affecting him. His dark face was bisected by a ribbon of white scar tissue which traced a line from his forehead down between his eyes and alongside his nose before halting at his lip, which was twisted into a permanent snarl as a result.

"You see them?" His accent was British Received Pronunciation, crisp and cultured.

His companion, a heavy-set black man with close-cropped hair who answered to Abiola Sefu just shrugged as he looked down the scope of his sniper rifle. "I see someone. Not sure if it's who we're looking for."

"They're still too far then." Kuar lifted a pair of advanced-looking binoculars and adjusted them as he held them to his face. The image crystallised in the twin scopes, and he picked out the moving shapes. "How can they walk in daylight?" he murmured to himself.

"You know what the First told Hayes," Sefu grunted.

"I had to see it to believe it though. What can we do against vampires that walk beneath the sun?"

"Fight them. The same as always."

Kuar continued to watch the small group. They moved quickly, and it wasn't long before he could start to identify them. "That's Baltic," he said, "and I can see that creature he keeps with him."

"I can see him. Shall I take the shot?"

"Aim for the heart."

"Do I look like a Neophyte to you?"

Sefu pulled the trigger, and Kuar watched as, an instant later, the vampires scattered in confusion.

"Shit. I missed."

"How could you miss?"

"They move fast." Sefu began dismantling his rifle quickly, packing it away and slinging the case over his shoulder. "Plan B then?"

"Plan B," Kuar nodded. He raised a hand, and the fifty Shadow Slayers that had been waiting behind them rose to their feet. He drew his sword and signalled down the slope. The battalion fanned out, separating into small units and moving down the mountain. The vampires in the valley, though vastly outnumbered, were already separating and moving towards them with astonishing speed. Kuar raised his weapon and charged.

* * *

Bam turned sharply and frowned beneath his mask at the small shape standing in the doorway. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Revenant. Who the fuck are you?"

"How many girlfriends does Darkness have?" Bam asked, turning back to Freya.

"I don't know, but I bet it's more than you," she smirked, immediately wincing as she tried to laugh.

"Are we throwing each other into walls?"

Bam rounded on Revenant again. "Are you another werewolf?"

"No."

"Good."

"I'm much worse."

She extended her arms and the heavy bracelets on her wrists suddenly produced two crescent-shaped blades that enclosed her small fists.

"Cute."

"Not really."

Revenant leapt at him, propelling herself into the air far higher than her frame seemed to allow. Bam danced back, and Freya saw the jets in his boots activate, carrying him back lightly so he could intercept her aerial charge. Her blades glanced off his armour and he grabbed her around the throat as she attacked. He tossed Revenant to one side and then there was a gun in his hand, aimed at her head.

"Bam!"

"I've already killed today. One more makes no difference to me."

Freya gritted her teeth and pulled herself up. She winced at the pain in her chest and wondered if it would heal as quickly as normal. "You really want to kill one of Darkness's friends? Do you know what would happen to you?"

"Darkness won't kill me. He and I have gone down that road before."

"Who said anything about what Darkness would do?"

Bam just snorted metallically through his mask. "I can't kill the wolf, little girl," he said, addressing Revenant, "but I can kill you."

"I have a better idea," Freya said suddenly.

Bam's hand wavered for a moment. "What?"

"I want to make a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"You put down the gun, and you leave."

"And what's in that for me?"

Freya nodded. "Good question. How about I help you take out Darkness."

Bam turned to her. In the blackness, she could see the eyes of his strange suit glowing a dull red. "‘Take out'? What do you mean by that?"

"Not what you think," she replied quickly, "I mean in the match."

"Why would you do that?"

"Yeah," Rev chimed in, "why would you do that?"

"He doesn't belong here. He's wasting his time, and he's endangering all our lives. If he loses his belts, he'll be fired and forced to go and find the other Slayers."

Bam lifted his gun. "I won't pretend to know what the hell you're talking about, but if we join forces and eliminate him..."

"Then you and I can settle this. You could walk out with the Bleeder Title and the World Titles."

"True..."

"Or I could."

Bam's head tilted. "Your offer is...interesting."

"Meet me tonight. I'll be..." she glanced at Rev, "...somewhere."

"I'll find you."

"I'm sure you will."

Bam slammed his pistol back into its holster and activated the jets on his boots. With a roar of acceleration, he shot across the room and crashed through one of the windows, letting light flood the training room.

Revenant shied away from it as Freya turned to her. "You know I'm right."

"What you said to Bam..."

"Which bit?"

"‘Or I could'..."

Freya shrugged. "That's all he understands. He wouldn't have listened if he didn't think there was something in it for me."

"It's true though," Rev said as she stood up, "this ‘deal' does give you an advantage."

"It gives all of us an advantage."

"Except Darkness..."

Freya gave her a hard look. "You know I'm right," she repeated, "you've seen how he is with Llenlleawg. With you."

"He says this is his battlefield."

"And what about Krissy?"

Revenant looked uncomfortable. "What about her?"

"A year ago, I watched Darkness break down when he realised that Titanium Insomniac had been right about him denying himself. I gave him an earful because I saw him pass up a chance to find his daughter. Things were supposed to change."

"I thought things had."

"So did I, but here we are. If it was your daughter, wouldn't you shake the foundations of the earth to try and find her?"

"I don't know."

"And neither does Darkness. That's the problem." Freya walked over to the smashed window. The ruined blinds hung limply around the frame. It was a bright day outside, and clear blue sky seemed to beckon invitingly to anyone who had the power to take to it. "He says he's the Antichrist. He talks a big talk about leading armies and fighting wars, but the only place I see him fighting is a wrestling ring."

"He's not going to be happy."

Freya turned back to Revenant, and her features were cast into shadow as she faced away from the sun. The light caught in her hair, still in disarray from the fight, for just a moment. "Is he going to find out?" she asked.

"Would it stop you conspiring with Bam if he did?"

"Probably not."

"Then I guess it's something I'll have to decide for myself."

* * *

It's too late. We're everywhere.

Darkness couldn't shake the phrase that seemed to reverberate in his mind like the tolling of bells. His dreams were as troubled as always, but now they always seemed to feature the same dark shape coming towards him. He recognised it, but he didn't know why it would be significant now.

He was standing alone on the hotel's roof. The sun was bright and the sky was clear. He had no trouble sensing the presence behind him.

"She's going to betray you."

"Is that so?"

"I heard it from her own mouth. She says its for your own good, and the fact that it increases her own chances at getting your belts it's just a...happy coincidence."

"I find it hard to believe that she'd do that to me."

"Why not? After everything you two have been through together - all the clashes, all the arguments - doesn't it make sense? She beat you before."

"That's not enough reason. Not for a woman like her."

"She said it was so you'd be fired. So you'd leave to join the other Slayers."

Darkness titled his head, but still didn't turn around. "That...makes more sense..."

"Just thought you'd like to know."

"Wait," Darkness said, holding up a hand, "why are you telling me this?"

Bam smiled beneath his mask. "You and I are men of honour. She's just a bitch. It makes no difference to me which of you I pin."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"You don't. But she'll be gunning for you either way."

"You could be just trying to turn us against each other..."

"Which wouldn't be much of a plan if she was still on your side, would it? So either I'm telling the truth, or I'm going to tell her something that will make her want to beat you that bad anyway. Either way, I'm your best option."

Darkness considered. "Thank you for this information."

"Use it wisely."

Revenant let herself into the large hotel room used by the werewolves as a gathering place. It was mostly empty. Cai, Peredur and Ogier were playing a card game around a table in one corner, while Gawain lounged over an armchair playing his PSP and Gwen curled up on a sofa with a book. Revenant paused in the doorway, still not sure what to do.

"What's the matter, Eardstapa?" Gwen had put her book on her lap and was looking intently at Rev. She glanced at the other occupants of the room who were now all looking over at her before hurrying over to Gwen's side and sitting down.

"Can I talk to you about something?" she whispered, "It's about Freya." She looked around again and saw the other werewolves had returned to their activities.

"Sure."

"And it's about Darkness."

Gwen's eyes flicked to her twin, checking he still had his back to them. "What's the matter?"

"I walked in on Bam and Freya earlier."

"Oh?" Gwen raised an eyebrow.

"I think they were fighting."

"Ah."

"But then she asked Bam to help her take out Darkness in the match."

"That's...odd..." Gwen's eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Why would she do that?"

"Because she wants his belts."

"Is that the reason she gave?"

"No. She thinks that him leaving TCW would be good for him. She thinks he should go off and fight with the other Slayers."

Gwen cocked her head to one side. "Well, she might have a point. He's supposed to be the First, and he can't do much leading from here."

"But shouldn't that be a decision he makes himself?" Revenant's pinprick pupils burned into Gwen as she spoke.

"Possibly. Maybe Freya thought it would be easier for him if he didn't have to make the decision."

"And she gets the belts in the deal..."

"Not necessarily; you're forgetting Bam."

"Pfft..." Revenant rolled her eyes.

"If you're worried about her motivations," Gwen suggested, "shouldn't you talk to her?"

"She clammed up after Bam left."

"I see."

"Do you think Darkness should know?"

Gwen glanced over at her brother again. "I...I don't know..."

Revenant looked uncomfortable.

"That's why you wanted to talk, isn't it?" Gwen shifted on the couch, "You think Freya might be right, so you don't know whether you should warn him or not."

Revenant nodded. "What would you do?"

Gwen paused. "I don't know. I can see where Freya is coming from. Not that I necessarily aggress with the way she's doing it," she added hastily, "but I can't see any real reason for Darkness to be here."

Gawain turned around his chair. "You can't?"

"You can?" she asked.

He shrugged noncommittally before turning back to his PSP. "Maybe."

Gwen placed a hand on Revenant's shoulder, trying to reassure the strange girl that she didn't really feel that close to. "It'll be okay...we'll figure out what to do tomorrow."

"Alright."

**

Freya sat on a bench in the deserted end of a public park, half-heartedly tapping her feet against the paving slabs beneath her. She hoped Bam would show up soon. She still wasn't quite sure how he was going to find her even. She shivered slightly and pulled her jacket closer around her as the sun disappeared behind the trees.

A roaring noise that Freya had thought was distant traffic at first started to get louder. She looked upwards when she realised where it was actually coming from and watched as Bam descended from the sky through the canopy above her head, blue flames from his boots slowing his descent.

"I thought we'd be keeping a low profile," Freya said once Bam was standing on solid ground.

"Why? Worried you'll be found out?" Freya couldn't see his smirk behind his mask, but she could smell it.

Freya shrugged. "It would make life easier if no one found out."

"So. How did you want to deal with Darkness in the match?"

"I was going to leave that to you. You seem to think you're the expert, after all."

"You want me to do your dirty work?"

"I wouldn't have put it like that. It's not like you're not getting something out of this arrangement."

"Potentially getting something..." he said, probably less out of lack of confidence in his own abilities and more to remind her what shaky ground this alliance was built on.

"Potentially," she conceded.

"And you'll just stand there and watch?"

"As long as you don't go too far. There's no point him leaving if he can't fight."

The reflective visor turned to face Freya. "What is this all about anyway?"

"Ever heard of the Shadow Slayers?"

"No."

"Then you probably don't need to worry." She gave him a half-smile. "They keep people safe from the things that go bump in the night."

"Except you."

Freya narrowed her eyes at the implication. "I'm insignificant."

"And what about the other girl? The young one?"

"She's not so insignificant."

"Really?"

"It doesn't matter." Freya waved off his question and got up from the bench. She held a hand to her side, where the broken rib that still hadn't healed sent a lance of pain up her side. "If we're all done, I've got places I need to be." She nodded at Bam before walking away. After a few steps she turned back to Bam. "You're not going to tell Darkness are you?"

"No."

"I have your word?"

"You have my word that I'm not going to tell him about this."

Freya smiled before continuing on her way. Bam watched her leave, his smirk still hidden beneath his mask.

Darkness looked up with a frown at the door of his hotel room as a sharp rap sounded. He straightened and crossed the room before opening the door slightly so he could see who it was before letting them in. He didn't know if Freya would pay him a visit, but he was hoping the whole situation would be resolved before they stepped into the ring together.

"Darkness?"

Shocked, he threw the door open and gaped at the man standing before him. "John?"

John Doe gave Darkness his trademark lop-sided grin as he extended a hand. The two old friends clasped wrists and then Doe pulled Darkness into a rough embrace. "Hey - how's the hand?"

Darkness flexed his prosthetic, letting it whir mechanically for a moment. "Same as ever..."

"That bad?" Doe grinned.

"What are you doing here?" Darkness asked him as he stood out of the way and let his former tag partner enter the room.

"Thought it was high time I paid you a visit." Doe pulled out a seat and sat himself down, crossing his legs and planting his feet on the desk. As he crossed his arms, Darkness noted the new band on his Slayer tattoo, marking him out as Eight Circle.

"A promotion?"

"Yeah. Marta seemed to think it was the right thing to do. There's a lot of Neophytes that need leadership these days."

"Oh?"

Doe nodded. "More and more people are being touched by this war every month. They seek us out, even if they don't know what they're looking for."

"I had no idea," Darkness murmured.

"No, I didn't think you did," Doe replied, a hint of something dark in his voice, "but that's not why I'm here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of Polaroid photographs.

"What's this?" Darkness asked, taking them from Doe.

"Something we thought you should see."

Darkness looked at the images. They depicted a disturbing tableaux: a young man, stripped and mutilated, covered in dried blood.

"I recognise this man," he said.

"I thought you might. That's Julius Baron, Sixth Circle. Or it was, I should say..."

"What happened to him?"

"We don't know. He was part of a team assigned to eliminate a small vampire hive near Hermosillo, Mexico."

"I wasn't too far away from there myself recently," Darkness mused.

"I know. That's why we were hoping you might be able to help. Take a look at the fourth photo there."

Darkness sorted through the photos in his hand until he reached the one his fellow Slayer had indicated. It showed the unfortunate Baron's back this time, criss-crossed with deep gouges that spelled out two words.

"Lord Abortion..." Darkness read aloud.

"Mean anything to you?"

"No," he frowned, "should it?"

Doe rapped his fingers against the desk. "We did some research. Marta and Ben had to look pretty hard to find anything."

"And?"

"It's a title. Something to do with the chosen one of the Abyss."

"That sounds like Seth," Darkness said, handing the photos back to Doe.

"We thought so too."

"What happened to the rest of his team anyway?" Darkness asked.

"No idea. This happened a month or two back. We sent another team to follow up when we didn't hear back from them, and all they found was Julius's body."

"No remains of the vampires?"

"Nothing to indicate they were ever even there in the first place."

Darkness ran a hand across his beard. "Do you think this might indicate some new threat, or is it just a sign that the vampires are becoming more organised?"

Doe raised his eyebrows. "More organised? They're already organised - we're fighting on fronts across the planet. The Ordo Draco grows more numerous every day."

"Ordo Draco?"

Doe nodded. "That's what the armoured ones are called. As you can probably guess, Dragon is the one controlling them."

"I assumed as much. How many of them do you estimate there are?"

"Thousands..."

"Thousands?!"

"Or more. Maybe ten times that. Maybe a hundred times that. There's no way to know, but we've killed hundreds of hives and they still keep coming."

Darkness sat down on the bed. For a long moment he held his maimed limb in his good hand, looking down at the carpet. "Someone said something to me earlier today, John."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. It makes me think that it's not a coincidence."

"What's not a coincidence?"

"It might be time for me to leave TCW," he said, looking up at his friend.

"You're going to come and fight with us?"

"Maybe."

"I won't lie to you - we need all the help we can get. No one's so much as seen a Vindicator in years, and our contacts with the mundane authorities are increasingly disappearing or going silent. It was difficult even coming here to see you."

"Are we losing?"

"Depends on your definition. This isn't a conventional war - you know that - and the theatres of conflict are adjusting all the time. We have Slayers stationed on every continent except Antarctica, constantly moving to deal with new enemy incursions as our intelligence finds out about them. Our casualties are high but, as far as we know, we're killing more of them than they are of us."

"But they recruit faster."

"And they don't need to train."

Darkness nodded. "Any leads on Krissy?"

Doe shook his head sadly. "Nothing. It seems like that werewolf was right - Seth is the only one who knows anything."

"Seth... Lord Abortion..."

"You think if we find Lord Abortion, we'll find Seth?"

"I don't know. Why would he start going by this alias now? Why leave a clue like that where we'd find it?"

Doe shrugged as he stood up. "I don't know, man. There's something going on here that we're not seeing yet."

"Isn't there always," Darkness said with a tight smile as he stood up too, "I assume you can't stay long?"

"Sorry. I got my orders..."

"Right. You've given me a lot to think about, John."

"That's why I came."

Darkness knew the question that was hanging in the air between them. "I have a commitment at least until the next show, John," he explained, "but I'm going to think hard about my future after that."

"You do that."

* * *

Bam alighted on the balcony of his own hotel room. The moon was nearly full in the sky and it was almost as bright as day as he removed his mask and blinked in the unfamiliar light. He ran a hand across his shaved scalp and then down across his face. His skin was damp where it had been covered by the Crimsyn Suit for over twenty-four hours and, now liberated from the armour's embrace, he suddenly felt human again. Hunger...thirst...exhaustion...a pressing desire to visit the lavatory... they all washed over him in one gut-churning instant.

Wearing the suit was addictive, he had begun to realise. Taking flight above the rooftops was a liberating experience, but there was something more to it. He felt empowered when the armour enclosed him, as if he alone had the strength of will to deliver justice to the world. It made him feel like a hero... like a God...

Without realising, he was already moving the mask back towards his face, but he stopped himself.

"No...need sleep...and food...and the bathroom..." he murmured.

Several minutes later he was kneeling in the suite, stripped to the waist and putting the Crimsyn Suit away in its container. His hands shook slightly, and he didn't know if it was the addiction or the exhaustion.

Finally he finished his task and slid the box beneath his bed. He stood up and, for the first time, looked around the suite. The last time he'd seen it, it was a charnel house, covered in the blood and viscera that had been the only remnants of the once influential Colombian gang that had been his rivals for so long. He had left orders with his own organisation to deal with the situation, and they'd done him proud. With a sigh, he hauled himself onto the bed and quickly dialled room service.

Half an hour later, after a large sandwich and a beer from the minibar, Bam was fast asleep, not even fully undressed and lying on top of the bedclothes.

JUSTICE.

The armoured warrior towered over him again, and the force of his voice drove Bam down to his knees. Thunder rumbled overhead as the giant spoke, and lightning forked from a storm-wracked sky.

JUSTICE. the samurai repeated with the voice of the storm.

Bam looked around, and saw that the place they were in was some kind of vast ruined city. He didn't recognise any of the features of the architecture, but the place seemed to have been abandoned for a long time.

"Where is this place?!" he bellowed, trying to make his voice heard above the thunder.

Bishamon didn't answer him.

"Where is this place?!" he shouted again.

"There is a storm coming," the giant said, and now he was Bam's size, talking to him in hushed tones even though nothing seemed to change.

"What storm?"

"The storm. Even now the lightning is visible on the horizon. The thunder sounds. It comes closer every moment."

"Can...can I stop the storm...?"

"You still have the chance to help prevent it. If you believe in justice."

"I do!"

"Then you must fight with honour."

Bam tried not to look affronted. "I always fight with honour!"

"The course you steer now is not honourable. If you finish this journey, the storm will break soon."

"And if I don't?"

"The storm may still break, but it also may not."

"Why do you always speak in riddles?!" Bam demanded, curling his lip.

"Because the lesson is worthless unless you learn it yourself."

"Then why help me at all?"

Bishamon lifted his jaw, and seemed about to speak, but all that came out of his faceplate was a strange, electronic beeping noise. Bam frowned as the sound became more and more insistent. The world seemed to lurch and then he was lying down as the beeping continued. A second later, his eyes were open, and the alarm clock's beep was drilling into his skull.

"Damnit."

* * *

Darkness was packing his meagre possessions into his bag when there was another knock at the door. This time his Slayer Sense narrowed down the possible visitors to no more than thirteen, but since one of those thirteen was someone he'd half-expected last time he was still cautious.

"Darkness?"

Not shocked, he opened the door and nodded slightly. "Gawain."

"Can I talk to you?" the werewolf asked.

"Yes, but," he looked around, "let's go somewhere else. I'm getting tired of hotel rooms."

Ten minutes later the two men were in a bar with two bottles of beer sitting between them. Gawain tapped one long finger against the neck of his and sighed heavily. "So...that's what she said..."

"You're the second person to tell me about this."

"I am?"

"Yes. I also heard it from Bam."

Gawain frowned. "Bam? But I thought that Freya and Bam made a deal..."

"They did. But Bam went back on it I suppose."

"Why would he do that?"

"If I had to guess," Darkness mused as he raised his beer to his lips, "it would be because he figures he has a better chance of beating me when it comes down to it than Freya."

"Ah, because she beat you twice."

"She beat me once. The other time she beat Bleeder."

"Yeah..."

Darkness narrowed his eyes over his beer. "Anyway," he continued as he put it back on the table, "thanks for telling me this."

"Actually, that wasn't what I wanted to talk about."

"It wasn't?"

"No," Gawain leaned forward, "it's about why Freya would turn against you like this."

"We both know the reason. And, recently, I've started to agree with her..."

"Why?!"

"What business do I have winning golden belts and fighting strangers with whom I have no quarrel? What do I achieve by risking defeat and humiliation every night in the ring? What must Dragon and Seth and Lucifer think of me, falling victim to attacks with steel pipes?"

"Who cares what they think?!"

"No, I mean..."

"Darkness," the werewolf interrupted, "everyone thinks I'm some sort of idiot - a bumpkin who's suddenly been thrust into a world of flashing lights and loud music. Like some kind of kid in a candy store."

"Well..."

"But all I'm doing is embracing the modern world. I'm fitting in. You wanted bodyguards, well what use is a bodyguard who doesn't know what he's up against? I can't protect you if I live in the twelfth century, can I?"

"What's your point, Gawain?"

"My point is that, out of all your companions, I'm the only one who seems to understand how this world works." He reached inside his leather jacket and threw his much-thumbed celebrity gossip magazine onto the table.

"What is this?"

"It's that magazine with the hummers in it, remember?"

"Right."

"You know why I wanted to buy them?"

"Because you thought they were cool?"

"Kind of. But I also realised how important your image is."

"My image?" Darkness looked confused.

"Think about it. What makes this society we live in different from the kind of society I came from, and the kind of society the Shadow Slayers create for themselves."

"Well..."

"Gods, Darkness! They don't have gods!"

Darkness blinked. "That's not true. There are churches everywhere. And mosques, synagogues..."

Gawain waved a hand. "Yeah, but that stuff isn't part of mainstream culture anymore, is it? The kids don't worship gods these days - they worship celebrities. Singers, musicians, actors. A hundred years ago it was generals and kings, five hundred years ago it was warlords and saints. Gods belong to ancient history."

"I still don't understand..."

"You want to be a hero, you want to be a leader, right? You're supposed to be the Antichrist: that's about more than being the First of the Shadow Slayers."

"Are you saying that being a wrestler has something to do with that?"

"Of course! I realised that the first time I read about pro. wrestling. It's good and evil; it's heroes and villains. This world doesn't have champions to fight with honour and forge tales of valour anymore - but this is about as close as it gets. There's nowhere else you could possibly be but in the ring, fighting your battles for the crowd, winning over fans. You know how many kids wear shirts with your name on it? You've heard them chant your name, man!"

"People are dying out there, Gawain..."

"You want to be one of them? One man - even if it's you - doesn't make a difference out there, but here you're the hero: the Champion. Are mankind going to be bystanders when the Wolftime comes, or are they going to be by your side, cheering for you again? You want to be the Antichrist, the chosen one, you'd better do it where people can see, or it's a waste of time."

"If they come for me when I'm unconscious..."

"In front of thirty thousand people? The vampires can do what they want! You'd only be a martyr! The best protection you have is being in the public eye, Darkness."

Darkness nodded as he sipped his drink. "You may have a point," he conceded.