“Keep your elbows up, Jeremy. You’re looking sloppy, there,” Ritchie Gilmore said playfully, raising his own arms as an example to his student. He had spent the weeks since his most recent trip to hell in his karate dojo for the most part, taking a more active hand in the teaching and day-to-day activities due to the sudden decrease in members of his team, the Slingers. He had put on his costume and gone on patrol as the Golden Marvel only once in the entire six-week span, and it had been a quiet one at that. One mugging, and one tourist couple that needed directions to Radio City Music Hall. He had told them to turn around, and there it was. Tourists.
“Class over, kids,” Ritchie called out to the room. The kids strolled to the edges of the room, picking up duffel bags, bottles of water, cell phones. Ritchie shook hands with some dads who wanted to know if their kids were doing okay, some bored moms with very Desperate Housewives looks in their eyes, and a few of the more eager kids. Finally, Tiffany, the class’ regular instructor, walked over to him.
“Have fun, boss?” she asked, “And can I say, I love being able to sit back and watch you do my job and then still sign my paycheck at the end of the week, but I have to ask – what’s with the being around all the time all of a sudden? Like a month ago we never saw you except payday, and now… geez. You’re practically teaching every class.”
“Well, I’ve had a lot more time, recently, because of some… changes in my life. I’m just trying to get through the bad times by doing something fun,” Ritchie responded, smiling, “And if it bothers you so much, your paycheck can be one class short this week…?”
“Hey! I didn’t say anything about that!” she laughed, “And hey – I’m really sorry about your grandmother. I know it must be hard.”
“Yeah…”
“Anyway, I’m starved. I need to grab some dinner and then head home and study. Big exams next week,” Tiffany said, shouldering a black duffel bag after tying her brown hair into a ponytail.
“I’m not much excited for the second part, but, uh, do you want some company for the first?” Ritchie said, turning his eyes quickly from her, to floor, then back again.
“You asking me or the mats?”
“I was asking you… but the mats don’t give me so much sass, so I need to think about it for a second.”
“And…?”
“Don’t hurry me. This is a big decision,” Ritchie said, placing an index finger on his chin and furrowing his brow as deeply as he was able. Tiffany laughed.
“We’ll be here all night,” she said, “So just come on. You can buy me a burger.”
************************
“Cass. Got a job for you, toots,” Mephisto called playfully, “I think you’re going to like this one. Real scumbag – sold his soul to have his best friend’s super-hot wife killed in a car accident because he was pissed that his friend thought he was better than him (which the guy actually didn’t, he was just a really nice guy, which was how he got the super-hot wife in the first place, but that’s neither here nor there). Your first job’s going to be getting this guy’s soul for me. Make it all scary and stuff, if you can, like, come up out of the shadows and say something all dramatic, like… like… aw, hell. I’ve been doing this crap for millennia, right? You’d think it would start coming naturally, after a while…”
Cassie rubbed her elbows – wondering slightly why she was so afraid of someone who could be such a moron (honestly, at this point, it was like being afraid of Johnny) – and she shifted her weight to one foot.
“Can you get to the point, please?” she interrupted. The big red guy frowned, and sighed.
“Good. All business. I like that, really, but if you ever interrupt me again, well…,” he smiled and stroked his chin, “I’ll make you remember exactly why you’re supposed to be more afraid of me than Johnny.”
Cassie started to attention, eyes wide.
“Oh, yeah, toots. I can read your mind. I’m in your head. And I can f*** with whatever I want in there. Anyway,” he started up, his face reverting to its previous, almost jovial expression, “Guy’s name is Murray. Lives in Jersey. Real A-hole, like I said. Get his soul (don’t worry, your suit will know what to do) and bring it here. Toodles.”
Mephisto disappeared in a plume of fire and smoke, a thunderous sound shaking the ground and walls. Cassie started at a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to see Mephisto with his hand on her shoulder.
“That’s what I meant when I said try something dramatic. You can’t do the whole smoke thing, but those suits make it look like the shadows have come alive and all that good stuff. But, hey, you’ve always been a little creepy, right? You should be fine. I’m seriously going this time. I’ve gotta put on my serious face and mess with Doc Strange. God, that guy’s so uptight. I’m telling you, heart attack by age 40 – I see it all the time.”
************************
“Hey, Evans. Can we skip the workout today? My head hurts, and I didn’t get much sleep last night,” Kevin Singh asked, rubbing the back of his neck. His combat instructor, Evans, raised an eyebrow.
“Bad dreams?” Evans said, sitting on a bench along the wall of the gym.
“Yeah, I – well, damn, this is gonna sound stupid – my amulet talks to me. It tells me not to trust my rabbits,” Kevin said sheepishly. Evans raised an eyebrow.
“That’s good advice,” Evans said, “Those things attacked me a few nights ago.”
“Saywha?” Kevin asked, incredulous.
“Yeah. They transformed into giant were-rabbits and tried to beat me up. It, uh, was a little weird. They told me to leave you alone. I’m still not entirely sure it happened, to be honest, but if the crazy thing that happened to you has the same message as the crazy thing that happened to me, I’m thinking maybe we shouldn’t ignore the warning signs,” he said.
“No, that would be a bad thing to do. I – shut up, you – not you, Evans, my amulet. It’s saying ‘I told you so.’ I’ve found that it’s kind of a jackass, to be honest. Real pain,” Kevin complained, “You think maybe we should confront the rabbits about this?”
“Yeah, we should. Call a camera crew. The Bills would kill me if I let a scene like this slip through our fingers,” Evans said with a half-smile. Kevin nodded his head and walked to the intercom. Evans got up from his seat on the bench. He should probably change out of his work-out clothes, and into something a bit more combat-appropriate. He had some combat fatigues in his locker, in case he ever had to pull Kevin’s fat out of the fryer. Yeah, those would do. No body armor, but, hey. That cost extra. Kevin was returning from the intercom.
“I’ve got to get in uniform, Evans. We’re going to meet the camera crew in the foyer in fifteen minutes and then they’re going to follow us as we look for the rabbits. If you need a costume, or…”
“Hell, no. I’m not putting on one of those ugly-ass jumpsuits. I’ve got some urban camo stuff leftover from my military days in the locker. I’ll use that; look like less of a fairy,” Evans said with a smirk.
“Man, low blow. Uncool.”
************************
“I’m walkin’ on sunshiiiiine, whoa-oh-oh! I’m walkin’ on – OW! I’m walking on broken glass in a far-too-lightly padded superhero costume, is what I’m walking on,” Johnny Gallo muttered to himself, “How did broken glass get on top of a building in the middle of Brooklyn, anyway? And why am I talking out loud to myself? I must be going the crazy on myself.”
Johnny sat down and rubbed his feet, pulling little pieces of glass out of the soles of his costume. A trickle of blood ran down his foot, dripping to the rough stone of the roof. A few more drops fell before the bleeding stopped. Johnny stood up and walked to the edge of the building, leaning on the ledge and staring at the street below. Dozens of people walked by, unaware of the young mutant watching them stroll down the sidewalk. Johnny sighed.
“Almost time to meet Ritchie at the meeting place. Better get going,” he said to himself, “Be good to have a person to talk to that isn’t me for a little while. Yeah, that’d be good. Real good.”
Johnny pulled his mask out of his pocket and pulled it over his face. Stretching out his cut foot, Johnny leapt to the next building, and the next; making his way toward the Manhattan Bridge. Hopefully he could find a bus or a truck or something to jump on top of to get him all the way over. It would suck walking with that thing in his foot.
************************
Ritchie Gilmore stepped out of the shower, grabbing a blue towel from the rack and wrapping it around his waist. He grabbed the towel next to it and began drying himself off. After finishing with his hair, he looked at himself in the mirror. Stubble crept from his chin, around the corners of his jaw, and angled up toward his ears. Time to shave, he thought to himself, laying the towel around his shoulders. He grabbed the can of shaving cream from the counter and sprayed dab of the stuff into his left hand. With the right, he took small portions of the cream and rubbed it around his cheeks and under his chin.
“I look like Santa Claus,” he laughed aloud, “And I’m thinking like Johnny. Speaking of whom – I should hurry up. I’ve gotta meet the scamp in like half an hour.”
Ritchie grabbed his razor from the edge of the sink and eyed it for a second. Chicks still dug the whole “I’m-sort-of-unkempt-looking-but-I-really-spend-a-long-time-trying-to-look-that-way” look, right? Maybe keeping the five o’clock shadow for his date tonight with Tiffany wasn’t a bad idea. Yeah – casual-cool was the way to go. He turned on the faucet and wiped the shaving cream off his face and into the sink. He hurriedly found some clothes to pull on and headed off to the meeting place to find Johnny.
************************
“Frickin’ remote’s broke,” Murray Gravelli grumbled, scratching his exposed stomach. He hawked a wad of phlegm into the back of his throat and spit it into the empty coffee mug on the table next to his recliner. Still scratching his stomach, he put the footrest down and struggled to his feet. Adjusting the spot where his boxers were riding up on him, Murray slowly trudged towards the kitchen.
“Maarion? Marion!” he screamed as he passed the stairs, “Remote’s broke. We need more batteries. Marion? You hear me? MARION!”
“She’s asleep, Murray,” a soft, female voice echoed throughout the house, “She can’t hear you.”
“Huh? Who izzat?” Murray said, whipping his head to his left, then right, “Who’s in my house?”
“Oh, I think maybe you know, Murray. Your own guilty conscience has probably already figured it out,” the voice said, “Or maybe there is no guilty conscience – which is part of what brought it to this in the first place.”
Murray took a few steps backward, head still darting side to side. He strained his eyes against the darkness, trying in vain to spot any movement. He could see nothing in the darkened areas of the house – the only light came from the one lamp he had on in the living room, and perhaps a dim glow from the TV he hadn’t been able to turn off – broken remotes will do that to a man, you see.
“Who – what is this about? I dunno what you’re talkin’ about, lady – look, you get out, hear? Get out, cuz- cuz I’m calling the cops! They’ll be here in a minute, literally. My friend Joe is-”
“Lonely? I would imagine he is, since the death of lovely wife, anyway. She was beautiful, wasn’t she, Murray? Too beautiful for a schmuck like Joe, with his big, stupid smile and relentlessly upbeat attitude. And that’s where my boss came in,” the voice explained, getting louder now. Murray felt a bead of sweat form on his temple, and his eyes widened as the room grew darker. The shadows around him spread across the floor; liquid black cascading up the walls and over the ceiling. A scream gathered in his throat, but didn’t make it out. A pale, pretty face slowly grew out of the solid black, eyes glowing a beautiful crimson.
“You – you’re from-” Murray started, but an ebony hand reached out and put a finger to his lips. The face winked, as the hand across his mouth dissolved into a gel-like substance, rushing over and then through his teeth, over his tongue and down the back of his throat. Grabbing his scream on the way down, Murray could feel the substance invading every part of his body; his stomach, lungs, heart – he could feel it running through his very veins. He rolled his eyes back into his head before they closed themselves. He knew they’d never open again.
************************
“I saw that thing with Murray, Cass – grade A stuff, for a first-timer. First-timers always like to talk it up, the first couple times. Go with the ‘I am your damnation made manifest’ angle. Don’t get me wrong, it’s pretty scary for the guy losing the soul and everything, but I guess I was expecting more from you, Cassie. I thought maybe you had a bit more of the ol’ razzle-dazzle in you – but don’t worry. Once you meet some of your colleagues, they’ll give you some pointers. Myself, for schmoes like Murray, I prefer to do the ol’ silent shtick. Even though they sold their souls to me, they always like to pretend like they don’t know what’s going on. Like they don’t know what kinda deal they made – don’t know that what’s coming for them is no more or less than what they deserve,” Mephisto droned on exultantly, “But you still did pretty good for your first time, kid. Pretty good.”
The demon king held a luminescent blue cloud between his thumb and forefinger. He appeared as a giant, reclining in throne of brimstone and lava. Cassie stood before him, head bowed dejectedly. She felt weak.
“You look hungry, kid,” Mephisto said, a look of feigned concern tugging down the corners of his mouth, “Here, have a snack.”
He thrust the glowing soul toward Cassie, who shot him a puzzled look.
“You’re dead now, kiddo. Your soul loses strength each time you use your powers; no more so than when you take another being’s soul from its physical form. That takes a lot of effort on the Darksuit’s part. So, to keep you guys in working order, I give you one out of every couple souls you capture for me. Recharge the batteries, and all that. You had a little less power than my usual recruits because of how long you ran around before coming back to me,” Mephisto explained, “But eating that should make you feel good as new.”
“Eating… this?” Cassie said cautiously, taking the cloud in her arms.
“That’s right. Down the hatch, and it should make you feel right as rain,” he smiled.
“I… I mean, this is a little weird,” she whispered, “Do I have to do it here? I don’t want to… well, just, do I have to do it when someone’s watching? This is still a man’s soul I’m devouring, here.”
“Gawd, you newbies are so predictable,” Mephisto groaned, “Most of you ‘port to some secluded place on the mortal plane and eat it alone. Usually while crying. You get used to it after a few, though. Ask anyone.”
Cassie nodded and turned away from her new master.
“I’m going-”
“Topside, yeah. I just said I know,” Mephisto croaked dismissively, “Have fun, and don’t take too long. You’re going to be a busy little bee, Cassandra.”
************************
“Hello? Rabbits? Jonothan, Martha? You guys in here?” Kevin called, poking his head into his bedroom door. He saw his unmade bed, a pile of unwashed clothes collected neatly in the corner, and his fifty-inch LCD HDTV hanging on the wall. It was still on – Animal Planet. He wondered if some of that stuff was like porn to animals, but then pushed it out of his mind. That was too gross to think about. He swung the door open, and motioned for the camera crew following him to come inside. They came as far as the doorway, but stopped short of actually going in. Evans pushed past them, combat fatigues hanging loosely, comfortably from his body. Kevin felt stupid, standing there in spandex, with his 7-Eleven shield strapped across his left wrist.
“The TV’s still on. I think they’re still in here, somewhere,” Kevin said to the camera as he pointed his thumb over his shoulder. He felt stupider than he has when he explained to the crew exactly what it was that they were going to be filming him doing that day. Most of them had chuckled quietly- not that he blamed for thinking this assignment was some kind of joke – heck, he still wasn’t sure it wasn’t. Maybe he was just completely, irrevocably insane.
“Not in the bathroom,” Evans grunted, standing in the door that lead to Kevin’s stately restroom facilities. He was glad the rabbits hadn’t chosen to hide there; he really liked the bath tub in there. It was big and relaxing and had these little jets that just worked wonders on one’s back – he’d hate to see that go.
“That means they’re here in the main bedroom somewhere,” Kevin spoke to the camera again, “But there aren’t a lot of places for them to hide in here. Just one really good place, anyway, and it happens to be the most obvious choice.”
Kevin faced his bed and took a step toward it. He approached it cautiously, lest Jonothan and Martha catch him unawares. Nothing could be more embarrassing than getting eviscerated by a pair of cuddly bunnies on national television. Except maybe if he was naked when it happened, which he wasn’t, but his costume was a close second. If the pay for this gig wasn’t so great…
Kevin sank to his hands and knees and crawled the rest of the way to the bed. Putting his head on the ground, he looked underneath the mattress.
“Hello?”
************************
“Johnny? You here?” Ritchie said, adjusting the backpack strap on his left shoulder. I should get a messenger bag, he thought to himself, way trendier. Probably pretty comfortable, too. Ritchie stepped into the waning sunlight of the Slingers former rooftop hideout. He didn’t like using the phrase former, but he had to face facts; there was no team anymore. Cassie was a slave of the devil, Eddie was in a coma, and Johnny was… insane, or something. Ritchie didn’t know for sure, but he sensed a definite withdrawal from reality in his friend.
Plus, I haven’t been in costume in a month, he thought to himself, I’m not sure why I even brought it with me. Habit, I guess.
“Hey, man,” Johnny said, emerging from the shadows under the billboard. Ritchie waved, and held up the bag in his right hand.
“For you,” Ritchie said, holding the bag out to Johnny.
“Subway. Awesome,” Johnny said, pulling down his mask to reveal a grinning face, “Haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
“When I brought you food yesterday afternoon?” Ritchie asked, shocked.
“Yes,” Johnny garbled out through the enormous bite of ham-and-Swiss-on-whole-wheat he had taken, “And?”
“That’s not good, man. I think… I think you should come back to my place tonight – just for tonight, if you want. Sleep in a real bed, clean up, and – is your foot bleeding?” Ritchie gasped.
“It was,” Johnny said casually, “I’m cool now. Hardly feel it anymore.”
“That could be infected! At least come over so I can dress that,” Ritchie pleaded. Johnny contorted his face in deep thought, taking another giant bite and chewing sloppily. He nodded his head slowly.
“I think that building’s about to blow up,” he said after a long silence.
“Huh? Which-”
He didn’t finish the thought. He heard the familiar sound of breaking glass groaning concrete explode behind him. Instinctively, he turned his head in the direction of the sound, dropping his backpack and kneeling in front of it. He opened the main compartment, revealing a familiar gold face.
“Rico, you ready for- Rico?”
Ritchie just barely caught sight of the silver figure dashing across the rooftop.
“Wait up! I’ll fly us over!” Ritchie called after him. Rico stopped dead in his tracks.
“Huh. How did I plan on getting over there?” Johnny muttered to himself, “And with my mask still off! What’s wrong with me?”
Ritchie wondered the same thing as he finished putting on his own costume. He fastened the cape to his shoulders and grabbed Rico by the shoulders.
“Let’s g-” Ritchie started to say, but a second noise from the same building caught their attention. A white-clad figure burst through another window; sailing through the air all the way across the street and through the Slingers’ billboard meeting place, hitting the roof hard and skidding all the way into the ledge.
“Ow-ee,” the garishly corporate decorated figure said, looking at Rico and the Golden Marvel.
“Hey – it’s that guy,” Rico said, amused, “Kevin Seven.”
“Eleven,” the newcomer mumbled.
“Whatever. What are you doing here?” Rico asked bluntly.
“Would you believe killer mutant rabbits sent after me by my family’s ancestral rivals?” Kevin said sheepishly.
“Actually, yeah,” Rico said, furrowing his brow, “Need any help?”
************************
“Eat bloody foot, mutant rabbit bastards!” Ricochet screamed as he launched himself off of the GM’s back, injured foot first. His foot connected with air.
“Hey. I thought you said there’d be monsters,” Rico said, turning to Kevin Eleven, who only shrugged his shoulders.
“They were here a minute ago,” Kevin said. The room was a war zone; the bed was cracked in half, his TV on the floor in pieces. Pleeeeease let the bathroom be okay, Kevin said to himself. He headed for the bathroom, and his heart broke in two. The tub. It was destroyed. He sank to his knees and almost cried.
“That looked like a nice tub,” Rico said, coming up from behind Kevin.
“The best,” the corporate superhero sighed, “The very best.”
“If we follow the trail of destruction, we should find the things we have to beat up,” Golden Marvel said coolly from the other room. Rico and Kevin nodded to each other and followed the red-caped crusader down the hall, following the path of collapsed walls and caved in floors, all the way to the broken and falling doors of the gymnasium. The sounds of battle thundered from inside, and the camera crew stood in the doorway, faithfully filming the whole ordeal.
“Don’t worry guys, I’m back, and I brought backup,” Kevin said, motioning to the Slingers. Rico nodded, and the Golden Marvel just pushed his way past the camera crew and into the gym. He flew at one of the beasts, catching it square in the jaw. It didn’t seem to notice.
“Is it bad form to use the same battle cry twice, even though the bad guys didn’t hear it the first time?” Rico asked. The camera crew and Kevin Eleven looked at each other, and then collectively shook their heads.
“Awesome,” Rico mused, pushing his way into the gym, “Eat bloody foot, mutant rabbit bastards!”
Ricochet launched himself, injured foot first, into the other mutant. He may as well have kicked a mountain, for all the good it did him. The beast didn’t seem to notice.
“He’s funny,” one of the cameramen said, “He’d make for a good recurring character.”
Kevin nodded slowly.
“I should get in on that action,” he said, looking at his fight being fought by three other men.
************************
“Hit them! Hit them really hard!” Evans screamed, straining against the bear hug one of the creatures had him in. Rico nodded.
“That doesn’t work for me,” he said, “What should I do?”
“Figure out which one’s the guy, then kick him in the jewels!” Evans screamed back. Rico nodded again, and placed his foot squarely in the crotch of one of the mutants – no reaction.
“Not this one,” he called out, just in time for Martha to turn around and growl at him, “Hey… your breath smells less like carrots and more like… death.”
The creature smiled at him with big sharp teeth, and bared its big sharp claws. Rico gulped.
“Hey, guy-man barking orders? I did that thing you said, but I think I only pissed it off,” Rico called, dodging out of the way as the monster lunged at him. Evans rolled his eyes and punched the monster restraining him, over and over, right in the face. This, too, apparently only served to piss the mutant off.
Ritchie lunged at Martha from behind, taking her out at the knees. She toppled over, then rolled to her back in time to see a golden fist connect with her face, over and over again, smashing it further and further into the ground. After a while, the beast stopped struggling.
“Oh, God… I think I killed it,” Ritchie said, shocked at his own ferocity. Jonothan swung his head in Ritchie’s direction, outraged. He tossed Evans aside and dove straight at the golden hero. Kevin Eleven entered the fight, planting his super-strong foot in the base of Jonothan’s neck. The beast fell to the ground after a loud snap.
“Oh, God, I think I killed that-” Kevin started.
“Trust me, that doesn’t work,” Evans interrupted, as he dove down by the still-reeling Jonothan and attempted to recreate Ritchie’s process. Unfortunately, he lacked the raw power of the Golden Marvel’s costume, and the beast was back on its feet in no time, knocking Evans aside like a rag doll. He tackled Ritchie from behind, claws and teeth tearing at the golden hero from all angles. Ritchie, still dealing with accidentally going too far a few seconds ago, couldn’t react. Luckily, his suit took the full fury of the creature’s assault with impunity.
Kevin punched Jonothan as hard as he could, to no effect, shortly joined by a recovered Evans. Even together, the two powerhouses did nothing.
“This sucks,” Kevin said, laying off, “Look, Golden Marvel, snap out of it and beat the crap out of him.”
“Yeah,” Evans added, “My arm’s tired as hell, and my knuckles are starting to bleed. It’s been years since that happened.”
GM recovered, grabbing the monster by the neck and throwing it to the ground. He pulled his arm back to deliver a powerful blow, but stopped himself.
“Go on, do it!” Jonothan screamed, “I’ll kill you, murderous scum, and then you, Prabhakar! I will claim your skull for my master! To hell with his plans! I will- ghurk!”
A golden fist jammed in his jaw shut Jonothan up right quick, and forever. Ritchie stood up, slowly.
“Don’t worry big guy. No one cares if you kill crimes against God and nature,” Rico said cheerfully, “Matter of fact, people seem to like you all the more for it. Look at Buffy.”
************************
“Hey, Eddie. Long time no see, eh?” Cassie sighed wearily, slumping into the chair next to her friend’s hospital bed, “Boy have I got some stories to tell you. Well, only one, really, but it ends with a kick. See, I took this guy’s soul, right? But he was scum – sold his soul to screw over his best friend. But here’s the weird part – Mephisto let me keep the guy’s soul so I could eat it for the energy. Even weirder? This isn’t the guy’s whole soul, really – big guy keeps the part that still feels to torture for eternity. That’s his while deal, right? No, this thing I got here is just his life energy – the stuff that kept his soul bound to is body. See where I’m going with this?”
She smiled and looked at Eddie’s peaceful face. The blue glow cast on him by the soul energy’s dim light added an aura of calm to the whole room.
“This is what your suit stole from you – this is what you’re missing to come back out of that coma. And, as it happens, without it, my own soul will just extinguish, like it was never even there. I’m barely holding on as it is, and I think I’ve got just enough energy to force this stuff down your throat. So, normally, that would be a real problem, but I have some good news. I’d rather accept complete and total oblivion than spend the rest of eternity doing what I’m doing,” Cassie smiled, “But, before I do that, well… I just wanted to say thank you, again, for trying to stick up for me, despite, well, despite me being more interested in Johnny than you, even though he largely ignored me in favor of that redhead of his. Screw you for encouraging me to get myself killed in the first place, but thank you for everything else.”
Cassie leaned in and pressed her lips against Eddie’s forehead. She lingered there for a while before pulling away. Holding the glowing mass of energy over Eddie’s mouth, she let her suit force it down his throat, up his nose, in his ears, and ultimately into every pore of Eddie’s skin, bonding it to the lifeblood that flowed in his veins. She felt the strain first in her forehead, then in her heart, then all over, and then she ceased to feel anything at all. Her body slowly faded back into the shadow, sinking, melting away, until there was nothing to indicate she had ever existed.
Eddie stirred in his bed, once, twice – thrice, and his eyes slowly drew open.
“Cassie?” he whispered into the dark, “I’m so, so sorry.”
************************
NEXT ISSUE: The healing begins… but, let’s face it, what fun would it be if it didn’t all fall apart?