By Jeremy

April 29, 1998

The Blackburn Household lived in the Northeastern suburbs of London, in a house that, while not exactly rich or formidable-looking, did denote a measure of higher-than-average living. University teachers were well-paid people, and both the Blackburn parents were of that exact profession. Joan Claudius looked at the house, then at the young man standing next to her, looking at it with far more trepidation.

"We really don't have to do this, you know." she said to him. "If you don't feel up to it yet, I'm sure that we could..."

"Whether I'm up to it or not, I've got to speak to her, have her tell me her story. I wasn't there the first time around and you know the end result."

Joan shook her head. It was typical of Jeremy to put more self-blame then was necessary, and he had been worse than usual ever since his cousin had appeared. He had been trying to help authorities find him, but had also been caught up in SCD work and, thus, hadn't been there when Laureen Blackburn had told Henry Morton where to possibly find Thomas and had unwittingly sent the inspector and his partner into a death trap that the psychopath had prepared for them. Jeremy had been angry both at the policemen for their negligence, at Thomas for his increasingly murderous schemes, and mostly at himself for not having put more attention to it all.

But even with all he said, he knew it wasn't his fault. SCD had started to increase its rate of operations again, completely recovered from the Circle attack, and all teams had received more frequent assignments. Jeremy had been away in Toronto, Canada, when the two policemen had died in the explosion. He and Cammy had been successful, as always, but the elated feelings had not lasted long.

They walked up the alley, and Joan rang the door. "Perhaps you should have brought Cammy instead of me, Jer."

A slight shake. "No. You're much better at this than she, than any of us." a pause,then a slight smile "Besides, I want someone who will listen to her and understand her, not someone who'll worry over me."

True. In the last few months, the relationship between the two professional SCD had blossomed into a full-blown romance that had finally involved a sexual relationship as well. It had been a relief for them to see these two do what they'd been wanting to for a while then, and she had been the first to admit it had done them both some good. They had been living in the same apartment for three weeks now, and they still drifted closer. No wonder he didn't want her along - this probably would jar the good feelings he'd had of his relationship if she came along.

The door opened, and a burly, grey-haired man stood there looking at them with a very wary and saddened expression on his face. Robert Blackburn may not have been a prisoner to a psycho, but he and his wife had known that their daughter was, and had been through Hell and back because of it. It showed in the gaunt appearance on his face, but also in the stiffness of his voice as he talked.

"She's in the living room, waiting for you." he said without preamble. "We were against it but she insisted, so we'll let you be for a while." his voice became fierce and protective, the voice of a father who'd just found his child back and wasn't going to let anyone hurt her again. "But if you go too far, I'll tell I'll boot the both of you out of this house without any hesitation." The man wasn't built very much, was rather wimpy-looking next to Jeremy's athletic body, but his eyes convinced Joan that he would find a way to do what he had said.

"We understand, sir." said Jeremy respectfully, "Could we go now?"

The man nodded, and led them to the living room, poking his head inside and speaking with the person inside in low, gentle tones. There was a soft answer on the other side, and the older man gestured that they could go in. They did so at once. They entered a nicely-furnished living room, with black sofas, paneled walls, television, a fireplace, and a large table upon which there was beautiful pot holding some artificial lilies. Paintings hung on the walls. A very quaint place indeed. On one of the sofas, a young woman with long brown hair was waiting for them with an expectant expression. Joan entered with a gentle smile, followed by Jeremy immediately after.

The girl's eyes widened a bit as she saw him, a flash of fear contracting her features. It was there only a moment, but it was long enough for the both of them to see it. Rather uncomfortable, the young man gave an hesitant smile.

"Hello." said Joan. "I'm Joan Claudius and this is..."

"...Jeremy Storm." finished Laureen in a strong voice. "Yes, I can see that. I can see some resemblances, but also the differences. Besides, Tom told me - no, ranted - of him so often I already had a clear picture of him. Its nice to finally meet you."

Jeremy nodded. "A pleasure as well." and then they sat. Joan entered into the heart of the matter directly.

"Laureen, we're here to see if you could tell us what Thomas could do now, where he could go, the types of crimes he could commit."

"At this point? If he lost it as much as I thought he would, then he could do anything to anyone." she paused, biting her lips "When he first...abducted me...he still had SOME grasp on reality, but that eroded quickly. It showed in the way he talked, in the way he moved. But mostly, it showed in the way he...I..." she stopped. Neither asked for more detail, they'd already read the files. Joan put a friendly hand on her shoulder.

"Don't be ashamed of it. It wasn't your fault. No one will ever blame you for what happened. It wasn't your choice or your decision. I know, believe, how you feel?"

"Do you?" the younger woman shot back fiercely "Have you ever been raped by a bloody monster?"

Joan kept her face and voice gentle, steady. "Yes, Laureen. I was." she said softly, ignoring the startled look Jeremy gave her. "And I can promise you, the pain will fade over time. Just let things work as they will."

Laureen bowed her head, and for long moment was silent. She was still more fragile than she let on, but was fighting to keep her control. This was a strong young lady. Joan was certain she would be back on her feet quickly enough. Oh, some things would always remain with her, but for the most part she would be her old self again.

At last the girl spoke again. "Its going to be harder to forget, for me." she said cryptically. Both were confused, looking at each other and blinking. But then finally Jeremy got a worried, frantic look on his face, and moved a bit closer to the young woman.

"Laureen, did he make you pregnant? Do you carry his child?" no answer "Please tell me, do you?"

Laureen bowed her head again, not in shame this time, but seemingly in reflection, as if deciding what she should be saying. Finally she nodded. Joan bit her lips. Withchild, because of a rape. What could be worse? It was that more then anything else that made her understand Jeremy's deep hatred for his cousin. The man frowned, muttered dark things to himself, and then looked back at the woman.

"What will you do with the babe?"

Laureen raised her head, looked at him straight in the eye. "I'm going to keep him and raise him." she said. Jeremy frowned again, and she put her hands on her stomach as if to ward off any objections "Its not the baby's fault if his father did this to me. He'll have a good, sane life with me. And I'll love him, because it will be my child, not his!"

Jeremy looked at her hard for long moments, then relaxed with a warm smile. He reached out and gave her a gentle, encouraging pat. "You've just gone very high indeed in my respect, miss." he said, friendly "You are right in your arguments, but it takes a strong person to stand by them." then he became more serious "But aside from that, do you have any clue on what my...DEAR...cousin could do? Anything you could remember would be helpful."

She shook her head, gave a shuddering sigh. "He told me so many things. I'm sorry, but I really did my best not to hear them, lest I went insane myself. He hurt so many people. I-I just can't remember..."

Joan decided it was time to book it. "That's all right. We're really sorry that we had to be a bother to you today, and we..."

"However, there is something he told me so many times that I couldn't help but remember. A sentence."

Jeremy leaned forward. "What was it? What did he say?"

"He said...he said...I will save the Pure from betrayals and so my dear cousin will see the Truth revealed to him."

* * * * * * * * * *

Three days later...

There were few instances in Dhalsim's life when he'd been confused about something. Even in his youth, it had been a rare thing. Now that he was older, master of the advanced powers that his extensive Yoga training had unlocked within him, he had had himself thought him well-nigh impossible a feat. What arrogance he had had. All it took to prove his foolishness was child, a young man of not even twenty winters.

The young man had come upon him, tired, lost and desperate for help. It had seemed that he was friend of Area, a young woman who showed great spirit, despite the fact she used revolutionary technologies to bring herself at the level of World Warriors. He had liked the young girl, and if only because of that, he had been willing to hear the boy out. But now, he wasn't sure about this Nathan McIntyre.

He was an enigma to be sure. There was bitterness in his soul, and much anger. But there was also kindness, a desire to help. Fire and water. Love and hatred. An amalgam of feelings that contradicted each other. Dhalsim also felt a will that was incredibly strong, an unbreakable pillar that had supported this man through his ordeals. His will was probably what kept the man sane with all these inner conflicts. Still, as he listened to the young man's story, to his denial of being such an angry man, he found that there may be an explanation to his problem. He did feel the mind of a psychic here, but he had yet to define whom. It was something he had felt before, but where and from whom?

"...and that is why I have come, sir Dhalsim." finished the young man in a tight voice. "If I cannot rid myself of my anger, Area leaves me. And if she leaves me, I die."

"How strange your speech is, youth." Dhalsim told him calmly, sitting cross-legged in front him "You manage to both sound bold and cowardly, selfish and noble. You are a true enigma to me."

"I suppose that I've always been strange, and that I'll always be that a bit. But there are a few things I am now certain about: that this anger is by no means a part of me, it just can't be, and that I love Area."

A silence ensued. It lengthened until the American boy was squirming from the lace he was sitting. Youth. So impatient, so eager to get on with things when they are those who have the most time left to live in this world. He looked down at his necklace and touched the small skulls of the very young children who had once depended on him, children he had been unable to save. He was wrong again. Even children sometimes have little time in their lives, which probably made their energetic antics so endearing to older, wiser people.

"I believe you. I believe you tell what you think is the truth, and even that it is mostly the truth." he paused "However, it is not completely the truth as you see it.

Some people passed their way, making respectful bows to the Yoga Master and looking upon the white-skinned stranger with surprise and suspicion. They seemed to wonder why the great Dhalsim would lose his time with any non-Indians. As if races meant anything. Dhalsim had long found out that each race of Man was a part of a whole that birthed the same way, lived and loved the same way and died the same way. Skin color, facial features and cultures were just coverings hiding should that were brothers by and of themselves.

The young man seemed puzzled. "Nothing, I think, can be an absolute truth, sir. But how am I wrong in this?"

The late middle age Indian pondered this and his own word carefully - it would not do to rush things. "You are right to the fact that this LEVEL of anger is not yours. It is artificially created, and should be gone soon enough now that you no longer wish it to control you." the young man looked relived at these news, but stiffened again when Dhalsim added, in warning tone "But the base of it is truly yours, and that part will perhaps always be a part of you."

The young man frowned, then nodded. "But you, the Yoga Master so renowned for his calm and wisdom, could you not help me find a way to...control it?"

Dhalsim did not smile, but inwardly he felt pleased - anyone wishing to control their anger were stepping in the right direction. This boy might actually have a chance of mending his broken, sullen personality. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"In each man there is a center, where calm and wisdom issue forth. The key to this center is through something that each man has good feelings about. I have my reasons, others have theirs and, so you certainly have yours. You simply ask yourself: what quells my anger, what brings me calm, and concentrate on it each time your feel the uncomfortable heat of anger inside of you. In time, you will learn to control it enough that your anger will be nothing to you, easily controllable."

He could feel the younger man struggle to understand the principles behind the reasoning. Although very highly intelligent, this young man had focused his life on the rational, not the spiritual. But he was trying to understand, and that was very important. And he WANTED to do so, and that was crucial. He could see why Area had sent him - he was a lost soul, but not by any means one tainted by darkness. At length he opened his eyes to look at the boy, who was looking right back at him, his expression both sad and determined.

"I...I'm not sure I COMPLETELY understand all this spiritual talk, sir. "he whispered "However, I will try my best to follow the advice you have given me, if only for Area's sake."

"And yours, young one." he reminded. The boy nodded.

"Certainly. But hers first. I never want to hurt her like I did ever again." the young man shot quick, embarrassed looks, seemingly wanting to ask him something, but somehow unable to. Dhalsim wondered if Nathan would ever speak, but he finally did, reluctantly. "Sir, I...I have favor to ask."

Dhalsim frowned slightly. "And that is?"

"Could you tell me....who is the psychic who did this to me?"

Dhalsim sighed. He knew that this would come at some point, and had never wanted to have a talk about it. However, it seemed like he had no choice - a Yoga Master did not believe in veiled truths or lies. But he had to understand something about the boy before he answered. He did think he knew who had done such a thing - the more he felt the presence, the clearer its owner.

"Why do you wish to know this? It will not help you calm this very anger you wish gone."

"No, but it will allow me to focus the anger on the person who did this to me. Only on him, so that my dear Area, my parents and my friends will no have to endure it while I'm still in its thralls." he coughed "Its crude, but I think its better him then them."

The aging man considered this and couldn't help but to recognized a certain amount of truth and wisdom in this, even though that would mean the anger would stay longer, since the young man will have a use for it. However, the reason was sufficient for him to tell the boy what he needed to know.

"The man who did this to you," he said slowly "Is, I'm practically certain, the Circle man known as Kale. He is a very powerful psychic, chaotic, whimsical and with a strange, unnerving, vengeful personality."

Nathan's expression was blank as he said this. "Kale...Circle. Heard those names before, but where? That was a while back, when..." understanding flooded through his face. "Yes, I remember the name! That's the name of a guy whom I helped stop once. That...bastard. Psychic, he? Well, he'll soon learn that technology is very powerful these days, and that there are few around better than me at it." he growled softly. "He'll get his own."

Already the focus had shifted. The anger was redirected. This was a man with a goal, someone that he could hate without fear of being wrong. The man soon paid his respects to Dhalsim soon, and departed, his head already making plans to get even with a man who had wronged him. The old Yoga Master looked at the departing youth in both fear and relief. What an enigma. Such strong feelings. But such good intentions behind these feelings. A very strong man, despite his crippled appearance.

A man who had every intention of using his will against the Circle, it seemed.

Kale had unwittingly gained another enemy this day. And a very serious one at that. Such was the way it always was when one stroke at people in spite. They often reap vengeance and disaster.

And this harvest was very ripe indeed.

* * * * * * * * * *

Two days later...

Rose was walking back the distance between her house and the market where she'd done a little shopping, humming a tune that she had heard previously and seemed stuck into her mind. It was a lifting tune, a romantic tune, and she had liked the sympathetic undertone. What was more, it was the best kind of personal companion when walking back to one's home. She was in a good mood today. She'd visited the local orphanage and had told the smallest children there a story, silently rejoicing to be able to put some joy on these normally quiet faces. And then there'd been an encounter with another psychic she knew and got along well, and they'd had a nice chat that had lasted many hours. And then she'd found every thing she needed at the market.

Yes, it was a nice day for her.

She made her way to her house, absent-mindedly admiring the trees and the burgeoning leaves. Life was taking hold again, firmly,and the land around her was becoming green and beautiful again. It was at these time that she truly felt alive, not some lonely psychic that always had to help out others.

"Hello, miss Rose!" squeaked a little voice beside her. Rose looked down and spotted little Emilio, the five year old boy of her neighbor. Chubby and cheerful, he was grinning at her with abandon. She couldn't help but return it.

"Why hello, Emilio." she said lightly, continuing up the rod to her own mansion. The little boy followed, as she knew he would. "What have you done today?"

"Daddy and I went biking today!" the child chirped happily.

"Is that so? That's very nice!"

"Yeah! Dad said he had work, but he found the time to go out and play!" he seemed to think that that was something, and truly it was. During the weeks, few fathers took much time with their children because of work. She thought about the little children Emilio's age, back at the orphanage. They would never really have someone who looked after them in a way that showed they were more important than anything, no one to scold them, to teach them, to take care of them. Emilio was lucky, but might never realize it.

It was in that frame of mind that her power encountered another. She felt it curiously, and recognized it easily enough. She stopped in front of the slender gates that closed the wall around her residence. She forced back some cheer and looked back at the child.

"Well, I have to go now. I'll come visit tomorrow, all right?" The child might not have accepted so easily, but she used a small bit of her powers to convince his mind. She hated it, but it was for the best for him.

"Okay! Bye!" said the child, who happily skipped away. She watched him got with a bitter sweet smile, then entered her home gates, her face turning deadly serious, even sour. She walked a few steps inside, then put her market bag down. She then raised herself calmly, but dangerously.

"Show yourself, Shadow-Walker." she stated coldly "I feel your presence here and it highly displeases me. You have five breaths to show yourself or I will rip you out of your hiding place with no effort."

There was a moment of silence, and then a man appeared out of shadows, a few meter off to the her left. It was indeed Everick, dressed in his usual all-black attire, a very serious look on his face. He seemed not too happy to be there, and she could understand why - no one from the Circle was welcome anywhere near her. He was probably one of the few with enough courage to dare it, especially after the last time.

"You are as direct as ever, madam." the man said politely, with a slight bow "Always ready to make things clear for everyone."

"Obviously I have failed with the Elders," she said icily, "I thought I had made things clear: I do not want any of you near me - ever! Now why would you take such a chance, Everick?"

The man shrugged. "I do my duty. And it is this: Stay out of the MI6-Circle conflict, or face the Conclave."

Rose actually laughed aloud at that. "The Conclave!" she cried "The Conclave has no power over me, no power at all! They live because they were intelligent enough to let me find my sister's murderer before I hunted them. Why would I follow what the Conclave has to say?"

"Would the lives of those in the orphanage be enough?"

She stopped cold, looking at Everick with eyes that were becoming narrowed and dangerous. Her demeanor, however, was calm - the calm before the storm.

"What...did you...say?' she hissed. Everick seemed unfazed, but she could feel the underlying current of nervousness in him now.

He coughed. "You must stay out of the MI6-Circle matters, or the Circle will be forced to terminate the children living inside the orphanage." he paused "That would be an unfortunate developement, so I suggest..." he trailed off.

Rose's eyes were now furious, glowing with power. Her slender hands were clenched, and all around her the faint ozone odor and crackles of psychic powers were showing themselves. Her lips were tightly clamped together, and her face was taut with tension.

"You dare threaten innocents?" she growled, and then her voice became a shouting gale, a furious force by itself. "YOU DARE COME HERE TO THREATEN ME?!? YOU FOOLS!!!" And she lashed out with her powers, catching the younger man fully, pulling him of his feet and to the side. Quickly, very quickly, until he smashed into the side of the outer wall. He groaned as he did, but rolled back and up as soon as he hit the ground. He took a fighting stance.

"Be reasonable madam, the children..." And with that he was smashed against the wall, hard. Her power held him there. He struggled with his own powers, but they were puny compared to hers, and she easily shrugged them off.

"The children, "she hissed, "Are not to be touched. Not by you or by anyone! Anyone who hurts them will have to face me, and I can ASSURE you that NO ONE wants a confrontation with me!"

Everick managed to lift his arms, and instantly she was surrounded by dark shadows formed of negative energy. Although she at first groaned from the pain, her psychic defenses came on and deflected the worst of the desperate negative attack. She lifted her arm, concentrated her mind energies on it, and slashed through. The darkness immediately shattered like so much glass. She smiled dangerously at the trapped man.

"You forget your attacks do not work on people with my level of power, Everick. It seems that you need the reminder." She started to intensify the psychic weight on him. At that moment, she wasn't absolutely certain that she wasn't going to kill him, for daring to make such blatant threats, to use innocents again her to force into a position that was her own to take! If it had been Kale, there would have been no contest - he'd be dead right here and now. However, she knew Everick still possessed some shred of compassion and decency. Amongst those of the Circle, it had always been very rare indeed, she knew painfully well. Could she kill a man who could still be redeemed, no matter how slight the chance. She stood for a moment, undecided.

Then she sighed, and let go of the power that was holding the black-garbed man up. He crumbled to the ground, gasping, barely able to do more than sit up. She crouched next to him, her face still fierce, still furious.

"Take this message to your Conclave, Shadow-Walker: I do not bow down in front of threats. My fate and my decisions are SOLELY my own, and any blackmail like the one you tried will be met with deadly reprisal. You have all that?

"I...cough...I do, but the Conclave might not agree."

She snorted disdainfully. "Let the Elders think what they wish! They have never been my concern. Now remove yourself from my presence before I reconsider treating you as kindly as I have!"

He did not need to be told twice. Totally humiliated and humbled, Everick gathered his shadows and disappeared from sight. A few moments more, and his presence was gone as well. She took a deep breath then, and stood up. Quickly she retrieved her shopping bag and walked briskly back to her house. She needed to talk to some of the others.

The Circle had ordered her sister killed. And that she had not forgotten, nor forgiven. But she had held from going against them directly yet.

But it seemed the Circle needed to be shown that she wasn't a threat to be dismissed so easily...

* * * * * * * * * *

Four days later...

The citizens of London were making their way across and on the street, whether by walking, bicycles or cars, going about their daily lives with rarely a greater care than whether they should eat out or at home tonight, or if the car's transistors and mufflers needed so fixing. Ordinary thoughts in organized, ordinary lives. These people were content with their lot and rarely looked for excitement or justice in their existence. They just were.

Thomas Storm despised them for it.

Ever since Laureen had chosen to flee from him, he had completely let go of his hopes for humanity. The race that had spawned him was blind to the harsh realities of life, couldn't see the Truth that the Pure were in danger, that they would be corrupted by betrayal, become Betrayers. Like all of those around him. All the adults. All of them.

It had come to him in a flash - only young children were Pure, untainted by hatred and by betrayal. He'd been wrong to think any adult or teenager was, for they all had some sin that they were guilty of. Including him. Oh yes, including him more than most. However, tonight he wasn't about to leave it at that. Tonight he would find a way to spare some lives of the darkness that this world gave upon mortals. It would be hard but, at the same time oh so delicious to do! And so very RIGHT!

He did not remember why he had once believe he could save people from it by his actions - he must have been crazy to think like this! He knew that he had deluded himself, or perhaps it was the world itself that had wanted to delude him. Well, it wasn't working anymore! He would see things through this time. And Jeremy would see his vision in all of its Glory...

Jeremy.

He wondered why the man had truly become his archnemesis. The man had tried to kill him for no good reason, that was true, the man had been one of the direct causes he had been caught and put inside an asylum, true. But why was it so important that Jeremy knew, that he suffered the consequences of Thomas's own actions. It had taken him days to think this through. And when he had, the answer that presented itself had been simple, simpler than he could have believed.

He had believed in him.

He had believed that his cousin knew the Truth, that he would stand beside him, and so he had given him the chance to do what was right, But he had been weak, attached to the foolish morals of this world, and had turned his back on him. He had then known that they were opposites, even if he had initially blamed the stupid girl Jer had been infatuated with. His cousin had willfully turned his back.

That was why he had to know what would happen today. Thomas knew there had to be a final reckoning between them. And that it had to be soon.

He would arrange it so.

He arrived at the place that was his ultimate destination, and read the sign. "Shelley's Kid Korner." A small kindergarten, with only two staff members and about a dozen of children. A small enterprise, full of love and sympathy. The perfect place for he to make his point to his foolish cousin. Without preamble, hefting the package he had prepared for the occasion, he knocked on the door and waited.

He did not have to wait long. Within a few moments, the door opened, and a tired-looking lady appeared, wearing a small smile. She looked easily over thirty, and probably felt older right then. Still, she struggled to give him a cheerful welcome, and he returned it jovially.

"What can I do for you, sir?" she asked.

He smiled. "Oh, not much in fact, madam." he said quietly. He showed the package to her. "I simply found this here and I wonder if this belongs to any of you?"

She looked at it, then shook her head. "I really don't think so. But let me look at it." She opened the door and looked at it. "I don't remember anything that was wrapped up like this. Angela certainly doesn't say about something like this. Sorry, but I think it's been left here by someone who didn't know what to do with something."

Thomas nodded his head. Then he sighed. "I suppose you're right. It was stupid to think any of you left that up front." he paused, his head bowed a little. "Madam, I have only one last thing to say about this, then..."

"And that is?" she asked curiously, pleasantly.

He raised his head, towered over her and gave a very friendly, very warm smile. "It was awfully nice knowing you." he said pleasantly, and flung the package up like a club. She was uncounscious even before she hit the floor, for the contents of the package in question were heavy. He entered and closed the door behind him. And then, without pause, brought his foot down on the woman's throat. There was a wet., crushing noise as he broke her neck, but he had no time to dwell on the thrill it gave him. He took the body under one arm, opened a side door, and flung it inside. He then went back to open the front door, then went to hide beside the body. He looked at her with a smirk.

"Hey, there, no sleeping on the job." he almost laughed at his own joke. Then he heard another voice, also female. Lighter, younger, probably that Angela this one had talked about.

"Shelley? Who was it. You better come up, the kids went you to play a game with them!" she hesitated as she heard no response. "Shelley?"

She then stopped. She must have spotted the open front door and was probably what the hell is Shelley doing outside and why hadn't she closed the door. He wondered if she would be careful or not, then heard her easy footsteps. Not careful. Perfect. He waited until the footsteps had passed the door, then opened it swiftly, coming up behind the woman.

She felt him at the last moment, and started to turn just as he gathered what chi he could. "Oh, Shelley, I thought that you'd..."

She didn't get anymore out, as his fist found her face, breaking her nose and her neck at the same time. She stayed upright for a moment, and then slumped down. He caught her and put her with the other body. He checked his watch. Mmm. Jeremy and that new girl of his should be coming back from work in about ten minutes. He found a phone on a table - obviously this was some kind of 'office' - and composed a number he had learned by heart. He waited until it rang for the fourth time, and the message was heard. It was a female voice.

"You've reached the residence of Cammy White and Jeremy Storm. We are not home right now, so please leave us a message or your phone number and we will call you as soon as we are able to. Thank you!" And then there was a beeping sound.

"Hello, Jer. Its Tom," he said airily. "You might want to come to Sheley's Kid Korner - you find the address soon enough. Just so you know, I'm going to kill everyone here. Remember what Laureen said. As for you, after this, I'll be waiting for you in five days, where it all began. Ciao!" he hung up satisfied. He then went to see the kids. When he appeared, with a wide smile, they wondered who he was and asked him.

"Me? Just Tom. I'm here to replace Angela and Shelley a few minutes." he leaned toward the kids. "Do you kids want a play a very noisy, exciting game?" he said conspirationally.

Cheers and nods. He nodded at them. It was time to do what he was here to do. They were innocents. They had to be protected from this world. He went to the office, undid the package. Inside it was a big, steel axe, perfect for woodcutting. He took it easily in one hand, then made his way back. Before he entered the playroom, he called again.

"All right, kids! We're about to begin! Are you ready?" he asked with a very friendly air.

"Yeah!" a young voice cried out. Others soon took up the cry. He smiled a sad smile. This was for the best. This was for them. He hefted his axe.

And entered the playroom.

* * * * * * * * * *

Forty-five minutes later...

Since the time Melissa had died four years ago, Jeremy had seen a lot of horrible things. Wounds, rapes, deaths. He'd managed to put all of those behind them, because either there was nothing he could have done, or because it had been part of the job - kill or be killed. There had been equal chances. He had been able to handle those sights, to put them far back in his head, so much that they no longer hurt, were simply unpleasant.

But for this, FOR THIS...

He looked around, at the policemen who were taking pictures, tagging items. Few of them didn't have a greenish, sick face. And those who did not still looked utterly disgusted, angry. The job they had to do today was probably the worst they had ever done, and many certainly hoped they would NEVER have to do such a business again as long as they lived.

Blood. There was blood everywhere. Blood that had poured out little bodies of children, staining the walls, pooling on the floor, amidst broken dolls that had been alive only moments before. The children had been found in different places, some in the same spot - probably the first ones - some near the windows, some near the doors. They must have tried to flee, only to find there was no escape. Not from him. He could hear their screams in his mind, their terror, their hopelessness, their pleading. Nothing of the sort had stopped the...the THING that had killed them.

God, they must have died so scared, so scared...

He looked as some policemen lifted on last white-covered bundle. He saw their grieving face, their helplessness, their hatred for whoever had done this. He knew who. Knew it well. Had GROWN UP with that monster, been blind as the boy beside him lost his mind little by little, nearly killing a friend, killing the girl he loved and so many others. And when he had had the opportunity to kill that bastard, he'd been stopped, but had also stopped himself, swayed by ethics and moral codes.

What a fool he had been. If he had known what would happen later on, he would have beaten the guy to death without so much as a care. Something on his conscience, but more people alive because his actions. But he had stopped. He had stopped. And nothing could erase the thought that, because he had let Tom live, he was at least partly responsible for all that had followed. He would live it down, he supposed, but only after a long while.

A strong, slender hand touched his arm, and he looked to see Cammy looking at the ghastly scenery with a pale, disbelieving face. They called the police as soon as they'd heard the message, and then had rushed to the place, only to find that they were much too late. Everyone was dead. The adults, neck broken, the children, in bloody pieces. And they'd both seen the message, written in blood, on one of the walls.

REMEMBER J

He would remember. How could he ever forget such a scene?

"I should have killed him, Cammy." he said "I should have killed him years ago. And then none of this would have happened.

She shook her head. "You couldn't have known, Jer. How could ANYONE have known? You did the right thing back then."

"I've got at least twenty bodies telling me otherwise, my love. Its a hard fact against me, don't you think so?"

The braided woman looked at him seriously for a moment, studying him. Their relationship had grown since that night in Venice. They now lived together as couples did, bickering, eating, joking around, making love. There were times he could easily tell what went through her mind and so could she, and it wasn't because of their strange, dormant psychic link. And right now she looked at him, and seemed to read right through him. At length she gave a long sigh, and touched his face lightly.

"My Jeremy." she said seriously yet fondly. "Always ready to take responsibility for another's act. How stupid you can be sometimes, but I guess its part of the reason I love you so much, this way you have of taking responsibility." She pulled him away, toward the front door. "Come on, we've seen more than enough of this."

He gave one last look around, then looked away. "Yes, I think we have." he whispered as he let himself be led away.

As they came out, they heard a howl. No, not a how, he realize. Multiple wails, sobs and cries. He looked around to see many couple clutching each other, their pain evident even in the distance. The parents, some looking barely older than he was. They had broken, haunted looks about them, and most of them were crying with abandon. Their little boy or girl, whom they had seen walk and talk and had meant so much to them, he or she had been killed. Who wouldn't feel maddened by grief, in this case?

He recalled what Laureen had said: "I will save the Pure from betrayals and so my dear cousin will see the Truth revealed to him." The truth. Oh, he saw the truth. He saw that his 'dear cousin' had just lost every bit of humanity inside of him. He understood that there was a monster in his place now, not a human. Someone who did something like this could never be a human. Never.

It was at this moment that he felt it. The anger. The anger that he had been trying so hard to control for the last four years. It was raging inside of him, raging like the time he'd seen Melissa's broken, bloody body. He had lost it then. He was losing it now. Still he maintained control. Still he held off. There was only one way to rid himself of this rage, he knew. It was a rough path, and one that led directly through Thomas Storm.

He turned to Cammy. "It seems I'm gonna make a another small trip back to my hometown, Cammy." he said "I know where 'it' all began. I'll go to that place and end it."

She nodded. "Vendetta then. Julia won't have the choice but to agree. I suppose we can get there by the time he wants us."

"ME. He wants ME, Cammy. Not you, not Nathan, not anyone else. If I'm going I'm going alone. I started this off alone and will finish this alone."

She looked surprised, than more than a little angry. "What are you talking about?!?" she growled "You think I'm gonna let you walk in and tangle with someone so monstrous without backup? You've got to be kidding me!"

"Its BECAUSE of this that I'm going alone!" he shot back fiercely "Its got to end, and if it ends badly for me, I don't want to drag anybody else along!"

Cammy's face went from red and angry to pale and hurt. She looked so stricken that he almost looked away. But he didn't she had to stay. She wasn't involved in this. She should stay where it was safe. It might have been selfish, but it was the way he saw it.

"You're asking me to let you go?" she asked "You can go to Hell if that's it, cuz you never let me go. I owe you and I intend to help!" she crossed her arms. Jeremy sighed. Then he looked around, at the weeping parents, at the sickened policemen, at the wate of young lives. He gritted his teeth.

"We'll meet soon enough, Tom." he hissed for himself. "You and I, we'll settle this. You have a fucking lot to answer for."

A deep breath.

"And you'll answer for it all. I swear it!"