By Jeremy

February 3, 1998

Nathan looked at his friend Jeremy, who paced in front of him. Back and forth, back and forth, his face tense, his whole body as rigid as a bowstring ready to snap - or as a predator ready to lunge and take his prey. Not really the nicest thing he'd ever thought. In fact, it was damn chilling, but he found he couldn't help himself - the resemblances were too real. Problem was, he somewhat felt that HE, Nathan McIntyre, was that prey which was about to be torn apart.

He coughed to clear his throat. "If you could at least tell me the reason of your visit or, more to the point, the information you want, maybe I'll be able to help you instead of watching you use up the floor of my house."

The taller man stopped his pacing, gave a quick look and muttered something intelligible, as if uncertain he should speak. The crippled man checked his irritation with some difficulty - this may take a while.

"So, is he always like this?"

Nathan looked to his left where Area stood. It had been her first visit to his house, and he'd wanted it to be memorable. Well it WAS turning out to be memorable, even if it was in a way that did not relish any of the people in the McIntyre living room.

It had started twenty minutes ago. A rather imperious knock at the door, and Nate had been surprised and glad to discover it was his old friend Jer. The joy had faded to concern, however, as he had looked at the man's face and seen, not the warm, friendly expression he had expected, but rather a tired, shocked and angry mien. And this impression had been compounded by his friend's later actions. Whereas he normally would've been interested to meet Area at last - after all the rants Nathan had mailed him, who wouldn't? - but had been barely polite to her, short and stiff with him. It was abnormal, it was new and it was starting to get on his nerve in a very real way.

He shook his head, his eyes fixed on Jeremy. "No. He's usually polite and friendly. Something's bothering him and its time he told me what it was. Hey, Jer!" the man looked at him "Sit somewhere and talk to me, or else get out and take a walk, cuz I'm darn tired of this grumbling around. Spill the beans, man."

His taller, athletic friend looked at him for a moment, then sagged his shoulders. "Sorry. I'm just having problems dealing with this?"

"That we can see as clear as daylight." Nathan noted. "Now if you would be so kind as to enlighten us as to what the 'this' you have to deal with is, maybe we could come to understand the situation ourselves."

A sigh. The man leaned against the wall nearest the two and seemed to be considering his words. Nathan relaxed a little. Perhaps they were getting somewhere after all!

"Its about the fact that Thomas' escaped from the asylum." he stated, slowly.

The smaller man raised an eyebrow. "That's it?" he wondered "You pissed off because of this? Well...I don't mean to be insulting man, but...aren't you about four months late? He escaped quite a while ago!"

A stiffening. "So, you knew?"

"Of course I did. Like your Uncle, Aunt, Claudia and Alex, too. We learned of it about a week after the man scooted off." and a depressing week it had been. Nathan had been frightened the man would come to finish him off, and Alex had stuck to Claudia like glue, vowing to tear the crazed man limb from limb if he ever showed his nose near the blonde girl. But no, nothing had happened, and after a while they had all relaxed. Except Jer, apparently.

"Thomas..." mused Area "Isn't that the man who killed seven people in Greenway, years ago."

Nathan nodded, glad he could talk with someone who did look like she wanted to actually converse. "Yup. A real whacko. I can tell." he looked at his leg in bitterness, and touched his face. "He's the one who nearly killed me." Never would he forget that.

Area opened her eyes wide - it was the first he'd told her about it - and seemed on the verge of saying something, but Jeremy interrupted the scene.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

There was something in the voice - an edge, something - that hinted at an highly volatile, barely contained emotion. The cripple man was more than bright enough to see there was a very tangible form of danger there. Like a game in which you won a prize by choosing the right answer. However, in this case the prize, it seemed, would come if the answer was wrong. And it wouldn't be a pleasant prize.

He chose his words carefully, stating what he felt was the emerging truth. "You weren't told?"

"No, I wasn't!" the man retorted, his tone biting, anger boiling just beneath the surface. "Now tell me why didn't you tell me? Or Claudia, or Alex? I thought we four were friends, man. Why hide this from me?!?"

"Now, hold on..."

"Fuck hold on!" Jeremy exploded. "Tom's resurfaced in England, and I had to be told by a damn COP! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME!"

Area seemed to slightly cringe in front of this mounting anger, but only slightly. She was a Street Fighter, after all, she'd seen worse situations. But Nate was stunned, and afraid. Stunned by the news that Tom was back in action, afraid of his friend, whom he'd seen this angry only once, over three years ago. He had to tell the truth. The only one he knew.

"We would've told you, Jer." he said hurriedly, "Claudia was all for it, as was Alex and as I was. However..." he stopped, not really wishing to continue. As he had spoken, things had become very clear, and he could have eaten his tongue for it. Better to have the guy angry at him. He would lose Jeremy's friendship, but not be hurt - the pain wouldn't be vivid enough, and Jeremy didn't hit people weaker than he. But now...

"What? However what??" Jeremy pressed, his eyes grey knives, his fists clenched, his hold poise antagonistic.

"However...your uncle and your aunt told us not to." he finished, damning himself for it all.

Jeremy banged back against the wall, his eyes wide. His expression had gone so disbelieving, so struck-down, that Area seemed to make a move towards him, perhaps a friendly gesture. Nathan stopped her. Now was not the time. Not when he was like this. Comfort would do more harm than good, he knew.

"They did this...they asked you not to..." the grey-eyed man whispered.

Nathan nodded, miserable now, knowing he was destroying something precious and hating himself for it. "Yeah, they did. Surprised us quite a bit when they did that, too. But we trusted them to tell you. How could we not? Claudia and I've known them since we were little kids!" he stopped, coughed.

Jeremy looked devastated. Nathan understood why. "They didn't tell you..." he sighed.

The other man leaned against the wall, his eyes wide, staring. Something was breaking up inside of him - Nathan could almost hear the tearing sound, could see it clearly, it was so palpable. Then it happened. Little by little, the eyes started to flash, the expression to darken. Wrath was taking the place of the void that the tear was leaving. Nathan had predicted this would happen, but was still distraught to see himself proven right - he would have prefered anything but.

"No, my friend." said Jeremy, voice tight "They didn't tell me. Thank you for being honest. I'll see you around." With that he left the living room, as quick as lightning. Appalled, knowing what was about to happen, Nathan leaped to his feet, ignoring the pain.

"Jer! Don't do anything you'll regret!!!" he shouted, but the only answer he had was the slamming of the door. "Blast it. Phone, phone!" he hobbled quickly to the nearest phone, fumbling with the receiver.

Area looked dazed about the whole exchange - he didn't blame her, he felt dazed himself. Except that he knew the situation enough to be too worried to feel the daze.

"Who are you calling?" Area asked, shaking her head.

"Claudia." he explained urgently "I'm gonna tell her to follow Jeremy up to old Mattew's house. Too bad Alex's not there, we'd need him."

Now Area was nearly as worried as he. "What's going to happen?" she asked.

He was dialing quickly, the number coming in from memory. What's going to happen? Something that should never happen. I just hope our fears don't come through." and then his face went lax and sad.

"But I know that look on Jer's face. I know what he's thinking. And, my love, I must tell you, I've got little hope this won't end the way I fear it will.

* * * * * * * * * *

Around the same time...

Being involved in a personal crusade was the most important thing in his life, but years of confinement in an asylum amongst crazy but sometimes very intuitive people had convinced the man that the principles of life meant nothing without some kind of way to get the kick out some of his stress. That was something both the doctors and the inmates roughly agreed with. So Thomas decided to take a job that fitted both his mood and purpose. It had taken him a while, but he had found his calling.

He had learned and installed a secret little site on the net, and from there took the complaints of people with problems, people who had been betrayed by either a friend, a lover, a wife, anything - and removed the problem entirely from their lives. His fees were very high, because of the problems this or that might entail, but he had always found people who wished the problem gone enough to pay. And since the people he killed had betrayed, he didn't really mind the killings.

He was doing some push-ups as the familiar beep of an online communication alerted him. Through his internment and even more so since his escape, he had given himself a strict physical regimen of exercises and practice, in the hopes of honing his skills. Squats, sit-ups, flexing sessions, and then tech practice, boxing sessions and the practice of specially designed katas - these had all served to augment his skills and strength to a whole new level. He had done it in the hopes of killing his - cousin, right? - when they met again, but he'd seen the man the last time around. As high as Thomas had climbed, Jeremy had climbed much higher, much faster. Thomas felt himself fast reaching the peak of his possibilities, he had felt the other man was nowhere near his limits. A confrontation would end in disaster fort if it was a purely hand-to- hand fight. However, there were ways of getting things done without fists flying.

The beeping was growing bothersome. Grunting, he stood up and walked to his computer console.

"Okay, okay." he grumbled "I'll take your problem out soon enough. Just let me look at that, would ya?" talking to himself so openly had always seemed like a problem to him. Although many people muttered when alone, he was one to have one side conversations without one little bit of problem with it. Not that it mattered. There was no one here who would care.

He sat down and skimmed through the hesitant introduction, saw the strange phrasing and quickly understood that this was a woman trying to sound like a man to further hide her tracks. He couldn't help but snort in contempt: if one wanted someone dead enough to go through the trouble of finding his site, why wouldn't that someone just show the feelings a little more clearly? Contemptible, weak people who didn't have stomach, of course, always seemed to wish to hide their feelings.

The woman was irked with her husband, who had, it seemed, cheated on her repeatedly with another woman, a younger, stupid dolt. It was an old story. He'd already had three such cases, all near London. Humanity was such a spiteful race. She wished to have him 'removed' so that she could get on with her life. He smirked. He could place the type now. A spoiled, rich girl had married an even richer boy who happened to be a womanizer. She had known quite well that he was cheating her, probably within the first year of their marriage. But she'd waited, so that she could have a large part of his heritage to herself. Yes, yes, it was certainly something like that. Maybe not exactly like this, but very similar.

Still, it was HE who had been weak, HE who had betrayed. And she could meet his prices. The rest mattered little. He answered that he accepted, and shut his computer for this time. He felt refreshed at this - everytime he had the goal to eliminate a Betrayer, he felt better. It covered his unrest, an unrest that had been growing, past even his cold rage.

The lines of the Pure and the Betrayers were starting to blur. It seemed that in anyone he researched, there was a taint in the spirit, in the action. He was worried about the implications of this. He wished not to kill everyone, not unless there was a solution to this problem. The world needed good humans around. However, it was hard, seeing who he could consider good and who evil. Like Jeremy, years back. He had thought him Pure, while instead he was the worst of Betrayers, attacking family simply because he had dispensed some justice.

Still, even if he did not know how to draw the lines between the two, wasn't sure anymore, it didn't mean someone else couldn't. Guided by that thought, he stood up and walked trough his basement apartment, headed to a room that was closed, the door locked. He fished a key in his pocket and unlocked it, entering with a gentle gait.

The room was nicely furnished, with a nice, large bed, a comfy couch, a television, elegant furniture, a radio and a small library. Many things to pass the time. And sitting on the bed, pressed against the far wall, was a woman, brown hair swept back, her eyes looking at him with fear and hatred.

"Hello, dear." he said pleasantly "How are you doing today? Fine, I hope."

No answer, just the tense silence, the fixed stare. He walked over and sat at the foot of the bed. She huddled farther from him, leaning against the wall. He sighed. Couldn't she see he was just trying to be nice? What was her problem? She'd been like this, this mixture of despair and defiance, ever since her first day here. Nothing he said, no gift he tried to give her, changed anything about it. And as the days wore on, he was slowly losing the interest in seeing her like this. Today was the worst. He was in a good mood and she was ruining it, how dare she... alright, he had to calm down. Try to be civil. After all, this girl serves a purpose.

"I've gotten a job today, so I'll be leaving you a few hours." he said "It wouldn't take long, just a small thing and I'll be back."

No answer. He tried some more.

"I'll make you something special tonight. Would you like that?" he asked, forcing an affable smile."

Still no answer. And he was started to get thoroughly annoyed with all of this silent treatment. He'd treated her well, had no intention of hurting her, so what was the darn DEAL?!? He tried to calm himself, but the calm didn't come like it always used to. He found himself unnerved, on edge, and wanting nothing more than to break something up. Still he didn't give in, still he tried to be patient.

"Don't you have anything to say?!?" he asked, the edge piercing in his voice. She continued to look at him her eyes now a bit glazed, uncaring. And that was IT. He leaned, grabbed a fistful of hair, and jerked her face towards him. She cried out once, then no more. "Answer me! Talk!"

And she did. In a calm, dead voice that held more loathing than fear, she spoke to him. Only three words, clearly spaced, ringing in the room.

"I hate you."

Thomas roared in anger, and pushed her back toward the far end of the bed. The desire to hit her was suddenly so strong, so overpowering, that it took all of his will not to. She hadn't betrayed. She was Pure, he was sure of that. He knew HE wasn't, knew that when his Crusade was over, it would be the day he'd have taken his own life, and so he admired her for it, for keeping herself Pure. and hitting her might mar that purity. Thus he stood up, in a foul mood. Fuck the bitch! Damn her way she had, like she was looking down at him. She was but a weakling to him - if he'd wanted to take her, like he wanted to do sometimes, she would be unable to resist. But no, since she was Pure, he wanted her wholehearted agreement. An impossible task, his mind told him, but he would not relent.

He made for the door, flinging it open with a angry jerk, then shot the sitting, immobile woman a look of exasperation.

"You are stupid. Accept Fate as it is, and things will undoubtedly turn for the best. You WILL end up believing in me, and want me." he said as he closed the door behind him.

But before the door was completely close, she spoke another word, one she hadn't pronounced yet. Still in the same dead tone, but clearer, to make sure he heard.

"Never."

He closed the door with a bang, locking it furiously, taking his coat and making plans. Soon he'd need to vent the frustration.

It was a good thing that he had someone to kill today.

* * * * * * * * * *

Thirty minutes later...

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"What do you think? You scared the hell out of Nate a few minutes ago and he called me. And I got to admit, you're starting to scare me too!"

There was no other answer than a glare, which Claudia returned as best she could. It wasn't easy: she just didn't have the anger that her friend possessed right now, but she had a lot of pride. He broke the contest with an irritated jerk and continued to press on, through Hillchest Avenue, going up to Bowstring Street, where Mattew's house was located. He wasn't so much walking as half-stalking and half-running, and each moment he seemed more determined, more angry. She knew that Nathan had called her because she understood how to calm Jeremy's fury better, but she doubted that she could this time. There was too much in there, too much fire.

There was couple ahead, leisurely walking. Young, they looked at each other in a way that showed they were very much in love. Claudia almost smiled as she saw them. However, to Jeremy the only thing he saw was two people in his way, two people going much too slowly for his taste. A rational Jeremy would simply had sped around the couple, not wishing to intrude. However, Claudia knew people worked up to this kind of anger weren't really rational. He shouldered past them, breaking them up, ignoring their startled yelps and the insults shot in his direction. She hurried behind, more worried than ever. For Jeremy hated bullies and for him to act like one, it meant he was beyond simply angry.

They came to the house quickly at that pace, and Claudia, who was hoping seeing the old house where he'd grown up and known so much love would mellow the man out, saw these hopes die as the man's eyes narrowed into slits. This was the look of a hunter finder a very distasteful, elusive prey. She felt goosebumps and not because of the cold of February.

They found Mary-Ann making a snowman side the alleyway, while a man was up further, near the door, looking at the house while holding a shovel. It was definitely Mattew. Jeremy zeroed in on him and quickened his pace. However, the little girl saw him pass and recognized him.

"Big brother!" she cried out joy fully, running to him to give him a hug. Knowing she would probably receive nothing but a cold brush-off, Claudia caught her and held her, back, talking to her pleasantly. Jeremy never seemed to even notice even though she knew that, with his sharps senses, he certainly had.

Mattew had heard the voice and turned around. His face registered gladness when he recognized his nephew coming towards him. He let go of his shovel and came forward, his hand outstretched, his face pleasantly relaxed, barely showing hints of redness even in the cold.

"Jeremy!" he said jovially "Well, you're a sight for sore eyes, boy! How are you? Is that Cammy girl with you or are you just..."

He didn't finish his sentence, for at that moment the younger Storm brought his gloved hand around, tightened it into a fist, and swung with both speed and ferocity. The blow was well-aimed and powerful, and Mattew had certainly not anticipated an attack. It impacted on his face, brought him toppling backward into the snow. In Claudia's arms, little Mary-Ann screamed in fright, and she tightened her hold on her. The blonde shook her head. 'The child shouldn't have had to see that, Jer.' she thought angrily.

Mattew stayed in the snow a second, dazed. Then old warrior's reflexes kicked in, and he rolled to his feet taking on a loose fighting stance. "Why did you do that?"

"You knew." said Jeremy coldly, with cold anger. "You knew Tom was out. You knew what he might do. And you didn't tell me. Zip. Nada! Not a thing!!" his anger exploded "YOU KEPT THE TRUTH FROM ME!!! WHY?!?"

Expressions passed through Mattew's face. Anger became confusion then realization then consternation to finally settle on guilt. Claudia gaped. They hadn't told him? They hadn't even warned him. She started to get a little pissed herself. After all the pain Tom had caused Jeremy, it was the least they could have done! Damn it! She had known something was fishy when they'd been told not to tell their friend, but she'd trusted them. It hurt, to see it betrayed like this. How much worse must it be for Jeremy, who saw them as the only parents he ever had?

Jeremy saw the guilt, grabbed his uncle by the front of his coat and hauled face-to-face with him. "Why, uncle? Why didn't you tell me?"

His face a little miserable, Mattew opened his mouth, but a woman's screech cut through the air.

"Let go of him! Let him go now!"

Claudia and Jeremy both looked at the door of the house, and saw an angry and terrified Samantha. her eyes glinted with anger, and her face was gaunt. She seemed older than a woman in her early forties.

"Why?" she screeched "I'll tell you why! Because the first thing you would have done is chase him down! Can't you just leave him alone!"

"Alone!!! Aunt, the guy is crazed! He'll hurt people!!! A lot of them! Of COURSE I'd hunt him down!" Jeremy bellowed.

"That's the point! Leave him to make is life again, it would be too hard for you, wouldn't it? Oh, no, you have to go out and meddle and hurt, just because he made mistakes in his youth!"

Claudia was disbelieving. MISTAKES? This wasn't like the guy had taken candy bars as a kid. People had DIED. Horrible deaths, deaths undeserved. Had these people gone over the edge to still believe someone like that could STILL have some tangible otherness than his madness.

Jeremy looked pale now. "Meddle? Me? He killed people...so many people. Even killed the one I loved. And you...YOU CALL THAT MEDDLING! You're blind, aunt! The man you knew as Thomas is dead, he died long ago! And now he's claimed another life, a life I MAY have saved, if I'd known about him four months ago."

"Get out of here! You're just like your damn mother, always putting selfishness above all else. I'm just glad your father's dead, that he doesn't have to see this!"

"SAM!!!" Mattew called, distraught. But it was too late. The javelin had been launched, the shot given. The results were devastating.

Jeremy's face lost all, color, and for a moment, he seemed to age so much that Claudia perceived what he might look like at forty. He let go of his uncle, his shoulders sagged a little. He gave the angry Samantha a look of such sadness, such pain, that Mattew reached out a comforting hand. Jeremy only batted it aside, and then let out a laugh. A long, loud, bitter laugh that edged upon hysteria. Mary-Ann huddled at the tone of the voice, putting her little gloved hands on her ears and sobbing. Claudia wanted to do the same, but felt too appalled to.

Finally the laugh ended in a choked sob that went through the area. "I loved you...I trusted you..." he whispered brokenly. His eyes then seem to focus for a moment, and he spoke to them through his tears. "But no more. From now on you people are related by name to me, no more than that. Only Grandpa and Mary-Ann will be welcomed where I stay. As for you, I never wish to see you again." a pause "And now I can assure you I will KILL Tom the next time I see him. Goodbye."

"I hope I never see you again!" said Samantha. Mattew only looked on, torn.

"Yes madam. That's my intent." And with that he walked away from them, only pausing briefly in front of the weeping Mary-Ann. He put an hand on her little head. "Don't become l-like them." he said, and turned away, nearly running off. Claudia let go of the child, who ran off to her father. She glared at the two they had all trusted since they were children.

"I hope you're feeling proud of yourselves." she snarled. Then she turned away.

And vowed never to set foot in that spiteful, bitter place again.

* * * * * * * * * *
Two hours later...

Kale had rarely been inside the main Circle Lair, which was hidden away just north of Stockholme, and even when he had, it had never been to meet the entire Conclave of Elders. The old men - sorcerors and powerful psychics born in bygone eras - had never liked the each other much, had only agreed to create what was known as The First Circle out of greed and necessity, certainly not out of trust. And yet here they were, swaggering out of their dark corners and calling him to him with sternness. He really could laugh at such self-importance.

Oh, whatever. He would laugh at them no matter what.

He was hushed through corridors, following a Black Crystal - psychics trained from birth to protect and serve the Elders. Perfect killers, the lot of them. None were as powerful as he was, but he knew better than take on more than two or three.

They came to an intricately-carved door, that stood tall and majestic, proclaiming power and grandeur. Another show of pride and self-importance. He was fast getting used to those kinds of things in this place. Still, sometimes it still amazed him.

"Lord Kale of Limerick comes to seek audience with the Conclave!" proclaimed the Black Crystal man in a voice Kale found overly loud. There was a moment of silence following this, and finally the doors opened. The Black Crystal stepped aside with a bow. Smiling as always, this time arrogantly and disdainfully, he stepped through the threshold and into the room.

It seemed like a room without borders - only the door served to give any kind of understanding of the size and that only until it snapped shut with a dull thud. Then he was left in a room of near darkness.

Suddenly a beam of light illuminated a spot that centered at what could have been the center of the room. Smiling anew at the cliché, he stepped into it quickly. He knew why he was here, knew that these old men were angry and afraid of what he'd done, but didn't care a wit. Long gone was the time when the Elders impressed him in any way. Only three men impressed him still. One was his brother, the powerful Master of Shadowlaw. One was the only man he saw as something like a friend, Everick the Shadow Walker. And the third was an immensely powerful enigma who had come to order him around - and had succeeded. None of the Elders were anything compared to either of these men.

"Salutations, Lord Kale." came a disembodied voice that echoed through the cavern-like room. "I trust that you are well?"

"As well as may be, my Lords." he replied with casual cheer "Limerick goes well these days, and I have no complaint."

"Glad we are to learn this." snapped a second voice "However, it seems that Limerick has overstepped its bound a certain while back. I must tell you that there are many who were concerned over this."

Yes, you must all have been, he thought, smirking inwardly. Such fool, beating around the bush. He had never liked haziness. To be direct and to the point, that was the way he was and the way he liked things to be. However, if they absolutely needed to talk like they were ignorant of any important event, well fine by him. He could play at that with the best of them.

"I am not certain what you mean my Lords." he said, affecting a servile, affable pause. That made the Elders pause, it seem. He supposed few kept their composure in this situation. However, he had seen far worse, and this place, although undeniably impressive and well-built, had nothing to make him the least bit afraid.

"I think that you do, " purred a third voice, lighter, a woman's voice. "You concocted an attack against the Commonwealth by attacking one of its organizations."

"If you mean the SCD, then, I must say, my Lords, that the attack was warranted by the fact they they were interfering in Circle operations, and had caused the Limerick Lair and its environs much trouble."

Mutterings. They didn't like his answers. He couldn't care less. Still he maintained a respectful attitude, an affable position. Let these fools think what they wanted. Plan what they wanted. Other plans, which were already in works and beyond their control, were those that he had an interest in. As far as he was concern, it was he who was doing these old fools a favor by coming to this little interview, not the other way around.

The second voice came again. "You acted outside your jurisdiction, Lord Kale. That is plainly established. What say you to that?" There was an expectant silence.

However, for Kale the answer came by itself. "I acted within the jurisdiction of Lair Lords, who may, as you all know, take action in another's territory if dealing with matters that have to do with his own. I was perfectly within my bounds."

"You were completely outside of them!" exploded the first voice. "Your attack tipped MI6 as to our involvement, and underground aggressions have tripled in only three months. We are on the verge of a full-scale war, and you think you have not overstepped your bounds?!?"

"If the Conclave of Elders is afraid of MI6, then I apologize for my actions." he said, humbly, but not without a mocking edge to his voice.

The woman's voice returned. It did not purr this time. It was cold, almost brutal. "Do not show disrespect to the Conclave, young one. Your sweet tongue and your confidence does not make you like your brother Petrov, or 'Bison' as the renegade now calls himself. We will be watching you."

Yes, like you said you'd watch Bison, Amelia, Rose and a few others. he thought Things and people are slipping trough your fingers, old fools. Have been for decades, and you can't admit it, probably can't even see it. He suddenly yearned for a nice, warm cup of wine back at Limerick. It was a much more pleasant position than standing in the middle of the light. Still, even though he wanted to leave, he did not want to do so without having the last word. So, assuming a respectful voice again, he spoke to the unseen Elders anew.

"Elders, I have something to report about an strange individual I have met."

He had their interest, he could feel it. "Speak and we will listen."

"As you wish, my Lords. Weeks ago I was confronted with a strange man who seemed to possessed great Outer Powers and significant Inner ones. He had white hair, an rather ageless, stony face, white and grey clothes and seemed to refer to something like the Fates. Who, my Lords, might that be?"

He was unprepared for what followed. Instead of the normal silence, he heard mutterings, loud comments and much consternation. The Elders logically seemed to know who the stranger was, and from the voices, it wasn't a man they liked. In fact, they seem rather to FEAR him. The Elders, who affected not to fear Bison himself, were afraid of this strange man. Intensely curious, Kale strained to hear the bits of conversation. He heard the word 'Ancient' 'Kel-Drashi' and 'Belsar', which seemed to be the stranger's name.

"Have you had many contacts with this stranger, Lord Kale?" a voice asked as the tumult abated.

"Once only, my Lords." he replied smoothly "At his instigation. And it was never repeated."

"Very good." the voice sounded relieved "Make certain never to deal with such an individual again, Lord Kale. And if you ever meet him, send word to us immediately!"

"As you command, Lords." he bowed.

And it was over. Just like that. The light went off, and the great doors opened again. Grinning from ear to ear, Kale steeped outside and followed the Black Crystal back to his vehicle. He felt satisfied. Even though the meeting had largely been a waste of time, he had learned some precious information about this mysterious figure. Belsar. An Ancient. Very interesting tidbits. He wondered what his brother knew of these.

He would be sure to tell him about it the next time they spoke.

* * * * * * * * * *
A few hours later...

He had been right. He had needed to kill someone. The days past had been so frustrating, and his anger so pent-up, that he had been desperate to vent it. The job had come at exactly the right time. Heh, he may even thank the woman somehow, now that the job was done. Anyway, he was in a very good mood, for instead of one kill, he had actually had two.

Finding the man had been easy. He always rented the same room, always with the same girl. He had learned that the girl always arrived first, so he had hidden himself inside the room, had waited patiently - well, mostly patiently - and had finally heard the woman - red-haired, young, cute little thing, enter the room. He had moved before she could even shriek, Breaking her neck in one fine twist. Ah, the sensation of power that this act always seemed to give him - few things could even compare. It had put him in a fine mood, and he had put the woman in the bed and waited some more, almost whistling to himself. They were Betrayers, after all. Killing Betrayers gave him pleasure, as it should to all people.

The man had struggled more, had tried to fight back. However, so that no one could see anything of his normal style in this latest kill, he had used a steel baseball bat. Although the man had fought, a few solid blows had taken him down, and he'd bashed on the head until it was nothing but a wet puddle on the floor. Then he had thrown the bat down, opened the door, checked for signs of life and voilà, he had been out of the motel and out of the neighborhood in not time. A good day.

He really needed more days like this. It would make things more livable for him.

Sigh. Now he was returning to his basement-apartment, located where nobody cared. Perhaps this time Laureen would talk to him. Perhaps she'd changed her mind about him. Very entertaining thought, that. However, he was wise enough to see that it was nearly impossible. She probably wouldn't see the Truth before quite a while yet. He had to be patient. It was quite alright with him - he had patience to spare for a while yet now!

It was when he opened the door to the apartment that this all changed for him. He heard a crash coming from inside, and lunged through the door, slamming it behind him and running through the place that was how he found the girl, Laureen, outside her room, face now fearful and desperate as she saw him standing there. He looked at her in disbelief, and then shot a look at the door itself.

It had been forced open by the inside. She had torn up a piece of wood from the couch and used it as a tool, battering the lock, until that part of the door fell apart. A lot of work, which must have taken a lot of time. If he'd returned only ten minutes later, she would have been long gone. And he'd probably have been in no end of trouble.

He had trusted her to stay.

She had betrayed that.

The thought made him angry. Not only because it was true, but because it also meant that since she had betrayed, she could no longer be considered Pure. She was now nothing more than a Betrayer herself, and it hurt him. No, it did more than just hurt. It burned him. He had trusted her, had actually GIVEN her his trust! And she'd betrayed him.

He glared at her and her eyes widened, desperately she tried to scoot past him, but his arm lashed out, and he caught her quickly, trusting her back into her old room. He didn't use any of the gentleness now. He felt betrayed, he felt that his day was ruined, and he needed a new outlet. And since she wasn't Pure anymore, he didn't have to hold back because of her. Not anymore.

He thrust her head forward forced her face him. Her eyes weren't as calm as they were before. Now they were terrified and filled more with despair than loathing. He could appreciate why. And also tell himself that she was damn right to feel that way.

"You must be feeling pretty proud of yourself, heh?" he growled "Thought I was so nice, so easy to fool! And you were right, I walked right into your little thing, you little bitch! You had me going there, you had me actually trusting you!"

She didn't answer, her breath coming fast, her eyes wide. She was starting to tremble, but he was unmoved.

"Oh no. The silent treatment won't work anymore. You betrayed. Which means your one of them. A Betrayer. And I'll have you talk, I'll have you talk, I can assure you." and with that he grabbed her arm and started to twist it, relentlessly. "I'll stop when you ask me to release it."

She gasped at the pain, forced her lips to close tightly. Stubborn woman. Very prideful. Used to having what she wanted. He could admire her for it. But she wouldn't last forever. Few there were who could withstand such pain long, and she wasn't one of those people.

At length she couldn't help but whimper, pitiful things that might have moved another, but not he. He continued with the pressure. And finally she could resist it not more.

"Stop. Let me go!" she said in a smile voice. He smiled darkly.

"Say please."

She shot him a fearful, yet indignant look. "W-what?"

"YOU HEARD ME! PLEAD! BEG! ONLY THEN WILL I RELEASE YOU!" He bellowed, twisting even harder, right at the edge of breaking the bones. Her face worked and spasmed, and her pride started to crumble.

"Please..." she whispered.

"What?"

"I SAID PLEASE, PLEASE LET ME GO IT HURTS, OH LORD IT HURTS! PLEASE LET ME GO!"

He let go with a smile. She gasped again, clutching her left arm, her teeth chattering. HE didn't want her off the hook that easily. In fact, he didn't want her off the hook at all. He grinned, thinking of what he might do, and decided very quickly. He grabbed her chin, jerked her face towards her. Her eyes were now tearful from the pain, and only filled with terror now. Good. That's how he wanted things. He'd show her for betraying him and his dreams and his damn whole day, the bitch!

"This entire week, you treated me like a contemptible kidnapper." he said softly "I wanted to kill you for that, and for the silent treatment you gave me. Not a day passed that I didn't want to beat you so completely that you'd beg for death by the end. And that's what I want to do right now. You following me thus far, little British bitch?"

Her violent shakes answered for her. Caressing her tear-damp cheeks, he continued his little litany in earnest.

"But I won't you see. I can't. Even after all you've done to me, I won't. Do you want to know why?" he forced her to nod with his hand. "Why, its because I have a plan for you. A very personal plan. I wished for your agreement, but right now I don't care for it."

She looked at him in panic as he rose and walked to the broken door, closing it and pulling the couch firmly against it. But it seemed her mouth worked on its own, through her fear, for she voiced her thoughts loudly.

"W-w-what...p-p-plans?" she asked in a small voice.

He smiled. A very dark, nasty smile. "Don't worry yourself over it. You'll find out soon enough." And with that he came toward her.

The insonorisation kept the noise low, but some one standing near the door could have heard a woman's voice, screaming first in denial, then in fear and horror, and then in despair. That person would also have her the grunts of a man and the distinct sound of a hand slapping or hitting flesh. After a while, the noise abated, and only broken, humiliated sobs remained that could be heard for a long while. That was if someone who cared had heard it. But the only person who heard it was one who didn't care at all, wanted it this way in fact.

The sobs continued long. And then the noises would start again.

And Thomas Storm was happy that night.