"His name's Murdoch Adams. They call him the Night Shocker. Or at least the reporters do." The hacker brought up several police files and online newspaper
articles on the same subject. The same unknown quantity that had eluded them.

"Corny name," the hacker's partner, a large African-American man, observed as he munched on a bag of Fritos.

"It isn't like we have room to talk," the hacker pointed out. "'Bouncer' and 'Mindworm' aren't exactly the epitome of hip."

Bouncer shrugged. "Well yeah, but we picked them out ourselves, and only 'cause Tyrannus wiped our real names from the system. We're just hit men that sound
like wannabe supervillains, now." He stared out the tinted windows of the plain white van they inhabited, watching the lights of the nighttime traffic pass them by. "And who says 'hip' anymore?"

"Our quarry is actually in the same boat we are," Mindworm replied, his eyes flitting from screen to screen with the practiced ease of a multitasker. He had a total of five state-of-the-art computers installed in the van on a wireless network, allowing him to perform several functions at once. Unlike Bouncer, who was just computer-savvy enough to play
Minesweeper, the wiry hacker embraced his geek nature; he'd even named his computers Wednesday, Pugsley, Gomez, Fester, and Morticia. "His name, face, and contact info are also mysteries to the world at large, due partly to our employers' manipulations. According to the files Tyrannus has provided, they had attempted to recruit him because of his unique gifts. But alas, he turned them down."

"What's this about a lass? That's like a girl, right?"

Mindworm uttered a sigh almost too massive for his thin frame to hold. "You're hopeless."

"Hey, I was gonna be somebody, y'know," Bouncer protested around a mouthful of corn chips. "You know what I wanted t'be before the Tyrannus people swooped in?"

The hacker rubbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "A male model."

"A male model, man! I got the looks and everything! Momma always said I was pretty enough t'be famous. She always called me Sugar Ray, 'cause she said I looked just like the boxer." Bouncer carried on, unaware that his partner was mouthing the words from memory even as Bouncer was speaking them. "Ended up gettin' a job at a club, y'know, so I could be around all those Hollywood players and get noticed. Was a bouncer for about a year 'fore I figured out if they wanted a model, they ain't gonna look at a bouncer. So I tried my luck at bartending"

"And to make a long story blessedly short," Mindworm interrupted, at his wits' end, "you were discovered and recruited by Tyrannus agents for reasons that had nothing to do with your Sugar Ray Leonard looks and everything to do with your body's innate ability to
assume the properties of rubber. I know. You tell me this every frelling night we go on a stakeout. Now will you shut up about it already?"

"Okay, okay, fine."

"And don't get crumbs everywhere, especially the equipment." Mindworm took a breath. "Where was I? Oh yes. Adams turned down Tyrannus' offer to become a hitman like us."

"He woulda been in the extrahuman division?"

"Correct. He possesses the ability to perceive electrostatic energy and channel it through his body." He tapped Pugsley's flat monitor screen with his finger, pointing at the words, 'The Night Shocker'. "Hence the nickname."

"Damn. Why'd he turn 'em down, though? Is he some kinda superhero or somethin'?"

Mindworm chuckled. "Not in the slightest. The term the reporters are using is, 'serial killer.'"

**********
Murdoch Adams was having a good day. He'd put in a productive day at work, sweeping and mopping the university hallways. He'd paid rent on time. And now he was walking a friend home after having dinner with her at a restaurant. Her name was Louise Snider, but
she went by 'Lou'. They worked in the same building for months. He'd offered; she'd accepted.

"That waiter was so condescending," she told him now, waving her arms around for emphasis as they walked side-by-side past various stores, restaurants, and bars. "I wanted to just pop him in--" A neon sign flickered in a nearby window, making a loud crackling
sound. "Did you see that?"

"See what?"

"That sign just sparked ... or flickered or something."

"Signs do that from time to time. The neon ones, anyway."

"I guess ... but the one behind us did the same thing when we passed by it. Weird, huh?"

Murdoch favored her with a soft smile. "Maybe it's your electrifying presence."

Lou blushed, then stopped by the front door of a modest apartment building. "Well, here we are. My place." She stuffed her hands in her pockets,
nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"So this is where we say good night, then."

"I really enjoyed tonight." She looked at him, working up the courage to ask, "would you ... want to come up?"

"You want me to...?"

She nodded, and then opened the door.


Lou really didn't get the chance to give him the nickel tour of her apartment. From the time they walked in the door and she locked it behind them, their lips met, and they found themselves off-balance and stumbling toward her couch.

Her back hit the soft cushions; his body descended on hers. They explored each other with roaming hands and hungry mouths, their body heat rising to a frenzied degree.

Then suddenly, the electricity between them became literal.

Hundreds of volts surged from Murdoch to Lou, causing her muscles to stiffen and  spasm. He rose off of her and stood up, using his voltage to hold her in place. The sight of her writhing uncontrollably gave him immense satisfaction. She was powerless, and he was the embodiment of power. It was that way with all of his victims, male or female. He was the kind of person who'd never grown out of a child's fascination with pulling legs off of insects or cooking them with a magnifying glass.

He didn't pump enough electricity into her to kill her, though if he wanted to, he could give her a heart attack, jumpstart her heart, kill her again, and soon. He could also slowly drain every last watt of energy from her nervous system, leaving her a lifeless husk. But he'd done that and countless variations thereof with his previous victims -- he wanted to try something different this time. Perhaps he should set the fire ablaze; the fire could be blamed on electrical problems, which wasn't far from the truth.

Lou's hazel eyes tried to focus on him, conveying confusion, pain, and betrayal. Beautiful.

A loud pounding noise on the front door interrupted his musings. Murdoch glanced to the door just as it was launched off its hinges and locks by a thick combat boot attached to a very large, irate black man in designer clothes. And sunglasses. The sunglasses were a nice touch, Murdoch thought; the stranger adjusted them on the bridge of his nose, then cracked his knuckles. "Step away from the lady, man. You got Tyrannus on your ass, now."

Murdoch glanced at Lou, then at the stranger, and sighed. "You're with Tyrannus? Can't you people take 'no' for an answer?" He unleashed a hot stream of electricity at the intruder, who didn't seem fazed.

"Name's Bouncer," the large man announced, rushing at Murdoch and knocking him off his feet with a strong right hook. "I'm made of rubber, so you can't do jack to me."

Murdoch slammed against a wall and leaned against it to regain his balance. "Are you serious?" Bouncer unleashed a flurry of punches that staggered him. Amid the blows, he realized that even rubber fists hurt if enough weight was put behind them.

The Bouncer gathered Murdoch into a headlock, preparing to break his neck. Realizing he was at a disadvantage against this guy, Murdoch decided to try something else. He released another surge of electricity, at Lou, who was still recovering on the couch. This time he made it hurt.

Lou's scream of pain before her heart stopped was a thing of beauty, and as expected, Bouncer's grip on Murdoch loosened in surprise. Taking advantage of the distraction, Murdoch slipped out of Bouncer's hold, sprinting out of the apartment as fast as his long
legs could carry him.

Bouncer was on his heels within moments as they raced through the hallway. Murdoch ran toward an old tenant unlocking the door to his apartment. Grabbing him by his shoulder, Murdoch positioned the old man between Bouncer and himself, stopping the geriatric heart with an electrical surge. He took off running as the old man fell into Bouncer's arms.

Murdoch was able to make it downstairs to the lobby without further incident, but Bouncer caught up with him once he reached the front door. The large man grabbed his jacket, and Murdoch shrugged out of it and kept running. A subway entrance was less than a block away, so he made a beeline for it, weaving in and out of nighttime pedestrians.

He felt himself becoming winded. He wasn't used to this level of physical activity; his job as a janitor required more patience than endurance. His lungs felt as heavy as the Bouncer's punches; there was no doubt in his mind that his pursuer was in better shape.

Luckily, he always felt stronger around electricity, and the subway station was positively humming with it, from the fluorescent lights and vending machines to the bystanders' nervous systems and the train tracks' third rail.

Especially the third rail.

He jumped turnstiles and dodged security guards on his way to the tracks. He leaped off the platform, knowing Bouncer was in hot pursuit. At this point, he welcomed
the chase.

Racing along the tracks into the tunnel, he could feel the massive amounts of ambient electricity emanating from the rail, energizing him. The fatigue and wear of the chase was forgotten. He stopped running, turned, and waited for Bouncer to approach.

The large man grabbed Murdoch's shirt collar and doubled him over with a punch to the gut, then rocked him back with a follow-up to the face. Murdoch didn't feel it; his body was too preoccupied with the rush of energy absorption.

He rolled away from Bouncer, tearing his shirt in the process. The larger man followed him, kicking him hard in the ribs with his combat boots. Finally, the smaller man unleashed a lion's share of the electrical energy, pumping Bouncer with countless volts. The tunnel lit up like a star, the flickering voltage casting chaotic shadows in sharp contrast.

Then, when it was done....

"Is that all you got?" Bouncer demanded, his clothes in smoldering tatters and his rubbery body molten-hot.


"Not all of it," Adams replied as he jumped off the tracks. The tunnel roared to life, filling with thundering sound and halogen light. "Most of it had to go back into the rail. The train's gotta run somehow."

Bouncer turned around, much too slowly. "Ah, sh--"

Murdoch watched as a subway train plowed into the Bouncer, unable to slow down in time. He preferred taking people out with massive doses of electricity, but he had to admit there was something to be said for this comical approach. It was like watching an old Saturday morning cartoon.

The train passed by, carrying Bouncer with it, and the only souvenir that remained to mark the hitman's passing was his shoe, flung off the man's foot upon
impact. Murdoch picked it up and admired it.

~Yes, that's part of your  modus operandi, isn't it?~ a voice inquired, and Murdoch quickly glanced around, readying voltage for this new intruder.

~Don't bother looking,~ the voice informed him. ~I'm in your mind. Still, if you want to stare at your own frontal lobe in order to look at me....~

"Get. Out. Of my head," Murdoch, warned through gritted teeth, electricity arcing angrily around his body. He spoke to the entity out loud because he wasn't really sure how mind-talking was supposed to work.

~Oh, but your mindscape is such a fascinating place! Such an unbalanced psyche ... so many interesting memories.~

This worried Murdoch immensely, so he decided to distract this line of inquiry. "That bouncer guy ... the one that just caught the train ... he with you?"

~Reluctantly. I tolerated him at best; he was nothing more than a pawn to me. The brawn to my brains. But that's past tense and uninteresting ... let's talk about  you.~

"You don't know anything about me."

~On the contrary. I'm the Mindworm -- I'm learning more and more about you with each passing moment, Murdoch. Mind if I call you 'Murdoch'?~

He started walking down the tunnel toward an exit. "Keep talking, asshole. You're just another light to me ... waiting to be turned off."

~Like Mommy and Daddy?~

Murdoch stopped walking.

~Of course I know about them. I know what happened. It's becoming ever so clear to me now ... how you became the piece of work we all know and love. ~

Murdoch resumed walking, his strides more rapid, his footsteps more angry.

~I've seen all the websites; I've read all the articles. You've become an urban legend, my friend. Nobody thinks you're real, but everybody wants you to be. You make for excellent stories to tell around the campfire ... at Halloween. Parents are going to tuck
their kids in at night and invoke your name, scare them into being good. You're the new bogeyman. When it storms and they hear thunder, and see the lightning, they wonder if it's you. You're larger than life.~

Murdoch exited the subway, walking onto the street in no particular direction, as if he could follow the sound of the disembodied voice to its source. "Want an autograph?"

~Cute. But my point, and I have one, is that your enigmatic nature has caused people to fill in the gaps of what they know about you by making up stories. For
instance, some claim you're a living embodiment of lightning; come to punish humanity for something or other. Others claim you were a criminal sentenced to the electric chair and endowed with supernatural powers -- though they might have swiped that from some
awful movie. Still others imagine you to actually be Electro, that voltage-powered superhero who abruptly disappeared years ago.~

Murdoch found a nondescript van parked in an alley. He sensed an intense amount of electrical equipment being used inside, along with a human signature that seemed to be putting out more brain activity than any human he'd ever seen.

~That last one is closest to the truth, by the way.~

Concentrating, Murdoch attempted to absorb the electricity from the van and the equipment inside. It turned out to be harder than he expected.

~What, you didn't think I'd be prepared for that? I have the best surge protectors money can buy. I'm not a n00b, you know.~

Murdoch decided not to wonder what a 'n00b' was. "Guess this means I have the right address." He watched as the van's rear doors opened by themselves.

~Step into my parlor.~

"No thanks." He saw a lanky, unshaven nerd sitting in the van, surrounded by a bank of computer screens. Each of the monitors was labeled with the name of a different member of the Addams Family, and each displayed different information. Weirdly, the so-called Mindworm was hard at work at the computer labeled 'Fester', playing some kind of online
roleplaying game.

~I like to multitask. I'm currently trying to get my cleric up to level 40, but I can still hold a conversation with you.~

"Screw the conversation," Murdoch answered, and raised a hand to point it at the so-called Mindworm. The idea was to unleash enough volts to maybe melt the geek's
glasses to his face.

But nothing happened.

~You have to trigger your power mentally, my friend, like a light switch. Again, step into my parlor. I insist.~

Murdoch felt his legs move, his body stepping into the van of its own will ... or rather, of Mindworm's. "What are you doing to me?"

~I'm exercising my extrahuman power on another living being for no better reason than it amuses me to do so. I'm sure you can relate. This could even be considered poetic justice if I actually gave a rip about the characters you've killed.~

"So you just want me dead."

~Bingo. But I like to play with my food first, so to speak. You and I are alike in that way.~

Murdoch tried just reaching out and strangling the son of a bitch, but his arms wouldn't move.

~Now where was I? Oh yes: Electro. One of the greatest superheroes of all time. Noble, self-sacrificing, wears his underwear outside his tights ... he's an inspiration to millions. ~But he had a normal life. He had a job, a wife, and eventually a son. A healthy, active baby boy. But his biggest fear -- one that eventually came true -- was
that his son would inherit his father's ability to control electricity.~

Murdoch struggled to ball his hands into fists.

~One day when the boy was six, he gave his parents a really big hug ... and he absorbed Electro's energy like a sponge, taking his life in the process. His mother was incinerated by the exchange. He spent the rest of his childhood as a ward of the state--~

"Yeah, yeah, the kid was me. Big frickin' surprise. Now can we get on with this?" Murdoch thought the geek talked too much, even without moving his mouth.

~Are you really in such a hurry to die?~

"Like you can really kill me."

~You'd be surprised.~

Murdoch stiffened, then dropped to the floor, devoid of all brain activity.