“I’m wastin’ my time here,” Johnny Laxton muttered aloud as he dropped his lit cigarette butt on the floor and ground it out with the heel of his Italian leather shoes. “He’s already ten minutes late!” The man turned about and slammed his powerful fist against one of the crates, sending an echoing sound throughout the building. “Damn! He ain’t gonna show.”

“Wrong, Laxton.” The deep baritone voice came from a man dressed entirely in black, a form fitting bodysuit that accentuated his well-formed physique. The man’s face too was covered by a black cowl, with openings for his eyes and mouth.   His orange gloved hands held firmly the legs to a body that he carried over his right shoulder. “I just wanted you to sweat it out for a bit.” He flipped the body off his shoulder and onto the hard, concrete floor.

“Assassin, are you crazy?” Laxton exclaimed. A pale look crossed the face of the blonde as he looked down at the dead man’s body. The two bullet holes in the back of the man’s head were likely the cause of death. “Why’d you bring the body here of all places?”

“Johnny, Johnny, Johnny,” the masked Assassin said. “I’ve done enough jobs for you these past few months for you to know the terms by now The second half of payment is always due upon delivery of the victim.” The killer reached out his gloved hand and waited.

“Yeah, yeah,” the mobster replied as he retrieved a briefcase from the floor, opened it and pulled out a huge stack of money. He handed the bills to the man. “I didn’t need the whole body for evidence though. A hand would’ve sufficed.”

“You paid for the kill, you get the trophy,” Assassin said as he glanced down briefly at the cash before closing his fingers tightly around it “I’ve got other clients to deal with tonight, so I won’t bother to count this.” He placed the money into an orange pouch at his hip. “Besides, I know you wouldn’t cheat me, right?”

Laxton half-smiled. “Yeah, right.”

Assassin turned for the door. “I’ll be seeing you then. If you have any other jobs to be done, you know how to get in touch with me.”

Laxton slowly drew a hand gun from the inside of his suit jacket. “Farewell, masked man,” he muttered. He squeezed the trigger twice, and the shots rang out.

But the Assassin had already leapt twenty feet into the air, grabbing onto a ceiling beam above. “Shame, shame, Laxton,” the Assassin taunted as he flipped himself up onto the catwalk above. “I thought we were associates, and this is how you repay me - by trying to shoot me in the back. What’s the matter? Haven’t I been keeping up my end of the bargains? You call for a hit, and I deliver the corpse. All very business like.”

Johnny Laxton took aimed and fired again. His target seemed to dance away from the shots effortlessly on the narrow crossbeam. “I don’t like the way you’ve been offing some of my clients!” Laxton exclaimed.

“What can I say?” the Assassin remarked. “I don’t work for you exclusively after all. The service goes to whoever can afford to pay the price.”

“Well, you’re gonna pay the price now!” Johnny took aim to fire again and blinked. His target seemed to have blended into the shadows. “Where’d you go?”

In the distance, police sirens could be heard slowly getting closer.

“Sorry, Johnny,” the deep voice called out from the darkness, “but I’ve gotta be going now. As I said, I’ve got other clients waiting.” There was a pause, and the voice changed positions as it was starting to fade out. “But don’t worry. I’ve arranged for you to have some company. Have fun explaining our dead friend there.” There was laughter that faded off.

As the police cars pulled up to the open door of the building, Johnny Laxton was reminded that two can play the game of double-cross.

About forty minutes later across town, the terrace doors of a plush high-rise penthouse opened; the Assassin stepped in through the pair of French doors and out of the night air. Waiting behind a desk was a brown haired man. “Sorry I’m late, Mr. Caravelli,” he said. “I had some loose ends to tie up.” He crossed the room in a confident stride.

“Then I’ll make this quick,” the finely dressed man replied. With his many ringed right hand, he slid a dossier folder across the desk.

The Assassin approached the desk, picked up the folder and glanced at the name on the tab. Beneath his mask his eyebrow raised in curiosity.   Glancing inside the folder, the glossy photograph of a dark haired woman in a white costume confirmed his suspicions. “Ah, I see,” he said. “So, you have a very special target in mind. It’s gonna cost you extra, of course.”

“I figured it would be a difficult assignment,” Caravelli replied as he reached for a briefcase. Placing it on the desk, he popped the snaps and presented it to the killer. “Will a half a million suffice?”

Assassin eyed the neatly wrapped bills and quickly did a calculation in his head. That certainly looked like half the amount stated. “I certainly would enjoy the challenge,” he said with a smile. “You know my terms.”

“Second half upon completion of the assignment,” Caravelli said.

“Good,” Assassin said.

“Not that I don’t trust you, but I will need some proof that she’s dead.”

“Of course,” Assassin said.

“She was last seen in New York City,” Caravelli offered. “Not that I mind she’s there. In fact, I’ve enjoyed her absence. But after having that thorn my side for so long, I want to make sure there isn’t a chance I’ll get stuck again.”

“Understood,” Assassin said. He grabbed the briefcase, closed it and walked towards the terrace doors. “I’ll be in touch.”

Five minutes later, as a black Trans Am hit the highway the Assassin tossed his face mask onto the briefcase in the passenger seat. “Late March in New York,” he said to himself. “Guess I’ll have to pack accordingly.”

Suddenly, the phone mounted to the side of his dashboard lit up with an incoming call. The rugged looking black haired man snagged it on the second ring. “Hello?” he said simply.

“Is this the Assassin?” a male voice on the other end of the line asked.

“No, it’s the Landscaper,” the driver said dryly. He paused for a second and then snapped, “Of course, it’s the Assassin! Don’t you know who you dialed? Who the hell are you anyway?”

“My name is Jake Dunbar. I’m also known in some circles as ‘the Steel Claw’. I’m calling from Manhattan.”

The Assassin pursed his lips. “How’d you get my number?”

“I was referred to you,” Dunbar said, “by a mutual friend – Big Lou Drummore.”

The killer nodded. Big Lou was a retired mob boss on the East Coast for whom he’d worked for a number of times. He could be trusted enough to act as a referral and asked for little in return. They didn’t make criminals like that any more. “What can I do for you, Mr. Dunbar?”

“I run some…uh…business operations here in New York, and I am having some pest problems.”

Assassin knew that if this Dunbar knew Big Lou that those ‘operations’ likely involved drugs, gambling, extortion or a combination of all three. “Call an exterminator.”

“That’s why I called you. These pests are the two legged kind, the masked kind.”

“I don’t know,” Assassin hesitated. “My schedule is starting to fill up.”

“Listen, I’m at the end of my rope here! I was told you’re the best and that’s what I need!”

“I am the best,” the killer said with a smile, his ego having been stroked. He liked that. He could also sense the desperation in this Dunbar’s voice. He liked that even more. “So, these masks -they got names? Anyone I’d have heard of?”

“The User,” Dunbar said. “Oh, and he has a steady partner now too – a woman by the name of Night Owl.”

Night Owl – the second time in one evening that name crossed his awareness! Assassin smiled as he got an idea. “Tell you, Mr. Dunbar. I need to head to your neck of the woods in a few days anyway. What say we meet and talk? I think I can move some things around on my schedule to fit you in.”

“Thank you! You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“I hope it is worth quite a bit,” Assassin said. “Special assignments like this usually call for my top fees.”

“It’s worth it if you can solve my problem!”

“I’ll be in touch when I arrive.” Assassin hung up the phone and pumped his fist in the air once. “Yeah, baby! A two-fer and top dollars to boot!” He started to laugh as his car drove off into the night.

***

Spring was just around the corner in New York City as the buds were appearing on the trees that dotted parts of the sprawling metropolis. One particular brown haired teenager didn’t have time for noting the changes in season. As his blue and red garbed form raced through the streets of Greenwich Village only one thing cross his mind: I can’t believe I’m running late!

The costumed youth named Ricochet cut around one of the corners, leaving a breeze in his wake. He spied his destination up the road and was already ascending the front steps to the brownstone a second later. I promised I would be there by eight and it’s nearly that now, he thought as he opened the front door. As he stepped inside and shut the door behind him, his brown eyes grew wide at the sight before them. “What the…?”

The large front foyer of the Haygner Manor which had been recently renovated after a battle between the Protectors and the Evil Elite looked like the site of another conflict. There were scorch marks on the walls, furniture knocked over and a plant vase shattered. In the middle of the room, floating in a rippling translucent green field of energy was a blonde haired woman dressed in red and orange armor. On the floor below the captive was a long metal battle staff.

Standing to one side, leaning against one of the walls to catch her breath, was an elderly woman with crimson hair laced with streaks of gray. Her long, tapered fingers with skin so slight that the outlines of her bones were clearly visible crackled with similar green energy. The woman in her seventies, dressed in a simple brown dress with a knit tan shawl over her shoulders, was clearly the winning combatant in the altercation.

“Ms. Leigh!” Ricochet exclaimed as he rushed to her side. “What is going on here?”

The old woman eyed the new arrival and recognized him instantly. She had been introduced to the lad shortly after she came to the manor many months ago and found him to be rather likeable although a bit too impulsive in nature. “Ah, Ricochet,” she said in a voice deep and worn with age. She made sure to call him by his costumed identity. “I could have used your help minutes ago.”

“What happened?” the youth asked.

“I found this woman skulking around the mansion,” the elderly woman replied as she continued to focus on the spell that held the blonde like a fly in amber. “We had a heated exchange. That staff of hers fires quite the blast. Still, I managed to catch her off-guard and capture her with one of my containment spells.”

Ricochet turned back to the woman and eyed her again. The armor was not known to him, but the masked face was very familiar. Now that he concentrated and could see through the shimmering energy, he realized who this was. “Amazon!” he exclaimed.

“Who?” Sybil Leigh asked.

“Amazon,” Ricochet repeated as he pointed to the captive woman. “That’s Amazon in there. She’s one of our team. Let her out.”

The elderly woman eyed the youth. “You sure, boy?”

“Sure I’m sure!” the speedster said. “Release her, please.”

Sybil Leigh flicked her wrist and the energy about the blonde woman began to dissipate, which caused the later to fall to the floor hard.

Ricochet was over to her instantly, helping her to sit up. “Diana,” he said. “Are you okay?”

Amazon blinked for a second, trying to see through the slight twinge of pain she felt. “Tommy?” she asked groggily. “Is that you?”

Ricochet smiled. “Who else? What are you doing here?”

Amazon sat up and wiped away the remaining particles of green goop from her armor. “I was looking for you guys. I figured coming to Mystifier was a good start since he was the reason we all got together in the first place. When I got here, I called around for him. And then I got attacked.” She turned and realized the two weren’t alone in the room. “You!” she exclaimed upon seeing Sybil Leigh. “She’s the one that attacked me!”

“You seemed like a trespasser to me,” the old woman said coolly as she righted one of the foyer chairs and sat down in it to rest. “In times like these, it is always better to be safe than sorry – especially when you’re my age.”

“Those blasts hurt!” Amazon said as Ricochet helped her to her feet. “Who is she, anyway?”

“Amazon, this is Sybil Leigh,” Ricochet made the introductions. “She is an old friend of Mystifier’s family. She arrived here around Christmas to help Al with Matt. Ms. Leigh, this is Amazon. She’s a member of our Protectors team who has been away from us for awhile.”

“Mystifier and I go back before that too,” Amazon added.

Sybil Leigh nodded. “A pleasure to meet you, my dear,” she said. “Sorry if I was rough on you before.”

Amazon nodded back. “It’s okay.” She figured it best to leave it at that. It was hard enough for her to accept that an elderly woman had gotten the drop on her, and so quickly bested her. Clearly there was much more to her than would appear just by looking at her. “I assume you’re a sorceress and do magic like Mystifier does.”

Sybil nodded. “I prefer the title of ‘witch’,” she said. “And, yes, Alan did learn quite a bit from me as did his father before him. And that is why too I am here – to help young Matthew better control and master his abilities. Metamorphosis can always be a tricky thing when one is not mature enough to handle it.”

“Speaking of the dragon boy,” Ricochet said, “where is Matt? He could have easily prevented all of this from getting out of hand. He and Diana met briefly once before.”

“Young Matthew completed his daily exercises and went on ahead to join the others,” Sybil said. “He seemed rather eager to be off.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Amazon said softly to herself as she was picking her fallen weapon.

“That sounds like the kid,” Ricochet said. “I guess we should be off to join the others.” He realized he was standing in the remains of a broken vase. “One second.” He raced off and was back a few seconds later with a broom and dustpan in hand. Quickly, he swept up the broken shards of the vase. “There, I hope that helps.”

Sybil nodded. “You are a sweet boy, Master Thomas.”

Ricochet blushed. The woman, despite all of her secretive ways and occasional piercing stares, in a lot of ways reminded him of his own departed grandmother. “If it’s all right with you, Ms. Leigh,” he said, “we’ll be off.”

Sybil waved him off. “Oh, by all means, go, child. I have some reading I wanted to get to this evening anyway. The quiet will be good. Just make sure to bring Matthew back at a decent hour.”

Ricochet nodded. “I will, ma’am. Come on, Di.” He took his friend by her gauntleted hand and led her to a room off of the foyer.

“Man,” Amazon said. “So I guess I know why Mystifier is so serious all the time if that was his teacher. I can’t wait to rib him about that.”

“You’ll have to,” the speedster replied. “Right after Ms. Leigh arrived to the house Al announced that he had a very important, very personal mission to attend to. He said he would be out of touch for an indefinite period of time. He put Matt in her care until he returned.”

“Wow,” the female warrior exclaimed. “I go away for a few months and things change drastically around here.”

“Hey,” Ricochet said. “You’ve changed a bit too. I barely recognized you in that new costume.” He tapped the armor lightly. “Where’d you get this stuff anyway?”

“It was a present from Space Lord and the Justice Gang,” she replied. “After returning Star Light’s gem to him, he wanted to do something for me in return. He and Robotman whipped up this new gear.”

“It looks cool,” the speedster said. He went to the far side of the room and opened up the wood doors to what appeared to be a large walk-in closet. “We kind of got something cool from them too.” He pulled the doors open to reveal a transparent tube with a control board adjacent to it.

Amazon recognized the device instantly. “That’s one of the Justice Gang’s transporter tubes.”

“Yup,” Ricochet replied as he keyed in a sequence on the control pad. “They provided us with a pair of these to help make transportation to a fro a bit easier. We even had them program the system so you can utilize it too. I had hoped you’d be back before too long.”

“To and fro where?”

The speedster helped her into the device. “Why, to our new team headquarters, of course.” And with that, the two dematerialized.

***

Beneath a small mountain range in upstate New York, Amazon let out a whistle that echoed about the metallic walls and the high ceilings of their destination. “This place is enormous!” she exclaimed.

Ricochet nodded. “It had to be. It was used to put together giant, robot vehicles before we shut down the operations. After the authorities picked it clean for every bit of evidence they needed, they agreed to let us utilize the facilities. After all, the men behind M.I.S.T. organization abandoned it when trailed their first robot back here.”

“I can see why the team would want to take it over,” she said as she eyed the various computer workstations at the far end of one room. “A place like this could really benefit us in the long run.”

“It has plenty of space that can be used for work-outs and training,” the speedster explained as they walked. “There are locker rooms as well as personal quarters, a large kitchen area, and plenty of meeting rooms. And the place has its own generators and water supplies. Everything we could need. Now we only need Mystifier’s place as a pass-thru point to get out to here from the city.”

“Very nice,” she said.

Ricochet led her down the hallway. “We were going to have a little official ‘house warming’ party,” he said as he opened the door to one of the rooms. “But I guess we can also make it a ‘welcome home’ party. Hey, gang! Look who I found?”

As they stepped into the room, Amazon was greeted with loud cheers. Hanging out about a large conference table where pizza, beverages, chips and cake were spread were six of the other members of the group.

“Hey, lady!” Larynx called out as he was putting some music on the portable sound system he had located.

“Welcome back, Diana!” Rainbow cried as she rushed over to embrace her friend. “We missed you so. It’s great to have you back!”

“Great to be back, Amanda,” Amazon replied.

“Oh, I love the new outfit,” Hydro Girl remarked as she took in Amazon’s new look. “That whole warrior type look really works for you.”

“Yeah, Rita,” the blonde woman replied. “I thought so too.”

“Now we’ve got us a party!” User announced as he popped the top on a cold drink. “How’s about a toast to having the gang back together?”

Rainbow turned her head as a bit of sadness welled up. Not the whole gang.

“Can we eat now?” Matthew Bradley asked impatiently as he reached for the chips.

“Yes, I think we can,” Night Owl replied.

The ten year old brown haired boy eagerly gobbled a few handfuls of the salty snack before User slid the bowl away. “Hey, slow down there, Matt” the African-American male said. “You’ve got the biggest appetite in a kid I’ve ever seen.”

“Jerry, he’s a growing boy,” the raven haired woman in white replied.

“I know, Crystal,” User replied. He put his arm around Night Owl in a loving way. “I just hope we got enough food.”

“I’d be happy to go down to the kitchen area and get some more,” she offered.

“I think we’re good for now,” he said. “But when we do start runnin’ low, we both can make the food run.” User gave her a little squeeze.

Night Owl blushed a bit. “Why, Mr. Page?” she said softly in his ear. “I do believe you’re getting a little fresh. What will the others think?”

User smiled. “That I love you, baby.”

Night Owl smiled back. “I love you too.”

***

A few nights later, in the part of New York City known as “Hell’s Kitchen”, a stooped over figure in a large and dirty, brown overcoat stumbled into a darkened alleyway and fell to the ground. A number of shadows cast over the prone body that cowered at the pavement. “Please…” the voice said softly.

The shadows belonged to a trio of young man, two with dark skin and the other with a bit lighter complexion.

“Get up, old man, and we’ll knock you down again!” one of the black thugs shouted.

“You tell ‘em, Leroy!” the Hispanic youth said.

“Hurry it up!” the third said as he glanced around cautiously.

“You heard my crew!” Leroy said. “Now, hand over all you got, old man! Otherwise…” He pulled a metal pipe out of the inside of his pocket and swung it firmly into his open palm. The metal smacked against his calloused palms. “…we might just have to start getting’ really rough with you!” Leroy swung the pipe back and let it smash down on the pavement mere inches from the cowering man’s head.

The man flinched and recoiled tighter into a ball.

The three youths laughed at him.

“See, you don’t want that!” Leroy said as he pulled the pipe back into the air. “Or do you? Now, hand over your wallet!”

“That’s enough, punk!” a deep voice commanded from behind them.

The trio whirled around to see an African-American male dressed in a skin tight green bodysuit with a matching mask across his eyes. “User!” the Hispanic exclaimed.

“Run!” the other black youth said.

“No, get him!” Leroy commanded. He swung his pipe around and brought it down towards the hero.

User caught the swung cylinder in his right hand mid-air and smiled. “Thanks, punk! I can use that!”

Suddenly, his whole body changed consistency, taking on a metallic sheen to its appearance. Just by touching the steel pipe, the hero had absorbed its properties into his own body. Feeling that much strong, User wrenched the weapon away from Leroy’s firm grasp and flung it across the way. The metal pipe clipped one of the brick walls, knocking chips of masonry away, before it clattered to the ground.

The youth who had shouted ‘run’ before didn’t bother to point it out again. He pushed past his buddies, leapt over the old man and darted down the far end of the alleyway. But before he could get to freedom, a pair of white gloved hands grabbed him about the shoulders from above and hauled him backwards.

“Going somewhere?” the angelic looking Night Owl asked as she tossed him to the ground. She then landed gently nearby.

“I’m guessin’ these jokers don’t think it’s so funny when they’re on the receivin’ end of a beatin’,” User said as he slammed the two youths before him into one another. The two fell stunned to the ground. “See if their victim can use a hand, Owl.”

“Right,” the heroine said. She crossed the alleyway and approached the curled up figure in the brown coat. “Excuse me, sir.” She gently tapped him on the shoulder. “It’s okay now. These thieves won’t hurt you any more.”< She offered her hand to assist him in rising.

“Why thank you, my dear,” the man replied as he reached out his orange gloved hand.

The blind heroine did not realize anything was wrong until it was too late! A shocking surge of electricity coursed through her body the moment the man grasped her wrist tightly. “Aaaaaah!” Night Owl screamed out before collapsing backwards.

User spun around quickly at the sound of her cry. “Night Owl!” he exclaimed.

The old man was already to his feet, discarding quickly the brown over coat and hat that kept his identity hidden. “She can’t hear you,” a masked man dressed in black with orange boots and gloves replied.   “Given what I’ve learned about her, that charge should keep her unconscious for at least fifteen minutes – plenty of time for me to deal with the likes of you!”

User, still possessing the attributes he absorbed from the steel pipe, lunged forward confidently. “Whoever you are, you’ll pay for hurting her!”

The man in black effortlessly dodged the tackle attempt by the hero. “No, you’ve got it wrong,” the man said with a smile. He swept out his leg unexpectedly, hooking it between the hero’s feet; User fell forward. “I’m paid, rather handsomely I should add, to hurt her and you. That’s why I’m called the Assassin!”

Thrusting his arms out, the young man caught himself before his whole body slammed into the pavement. He turned his head as he rose back up, teeth clenched. “Paid? Someone paid you to attack us? Who?”

Assassin shook his head as he pulled something from his pouch. “Sorry, pal,” he said. “That’s client confidential.” He clicked a button on the narrow cylinder in his right hand; the metal shafts slid out from either end and locked into place. The man in black swung his four-foot long battle staff around and assumed a defensive position.

“It won’t matter,” User said as he glanced about quickly. He spied the piece of pipe that one of the punks had lost earlier and stepped on the end of it firmly with his foot. The metal flipped up in the air; he caught it in one hand. “You’re not finishing this – I am!” He flung the pipe towards the Assassin’s head.

The man expertly spun his battle staff around, catching the pipe as it approached. With a loud gong caused by the metal-on-metal collision, he flicked the projectile away as a horse would swat a fly. “Are you now?” Assassin asked in a taunting way. “I don’t think so. At most, you’re just going to prolong the inevitable.” He began to twirl the battle staff around in front of him in a rapid fashion. With each spin, the weapon moved faster and faster. “See, when I get paid to do a job I see it through to completion. That’s how I’ve built such a reputation in the underworld. When you hire the Assassin, you hire the best!” He lunged forward suddenly, spinning about the weapon to strike his opponent.

User dodged to the left and barely avoided being hit by the staff.

Assassin pressed forward, quickly swinging the weapon around and attempting to strike again. “Haaaaaa!”

User dodged once more but found he was being forced towards one of the building walls that lined the alleyway.

Assassin swung his weapon around for another blow and this time connected with a loud clang.

The hero winced with slight pain; even with his form altered to metal he felt the blow. Enough running like a scared rabbit! he told himself. Time to turn this around some! As the killer swung the weapon around for another strike, User waited for it. At the last second, he threw his open hand up and grabbed the free end of the staff. “I ain’t your whippin’ post!” Applying his added strength, he attempted to pull the weapon free from his attacker’s grasp.

The Assassin frowned slightly as he felt the staff starting to pull him towards his target. “We’ll just see about that,” he said. He tugged harder, but the hero seemed to have the advantage. He felt himself jerked forward.

Removing his left hand from the weapon shaft, User grabbed for his opponent. “Come here!”

The Assassin tried to jerk back enough, but still the hero’s hand caught hold of his mask. “Let go!” This only made the User pull harder, and the cowl mask slipped off of the paid-killer’s face. Angered for being exposed, the Assassin depressed a second button on the weapon’s hilt.

From tiny holes in the end of the weapon User held quickly rose a thick cloud of smoke. The hero coughed as he soon found himself surrounded. Could be poison, he thought as he instinctively let go of the weapon with his other hand so he could cover his mouth. He backed away, trying to get to the edge of the haze. Once he was in clear air once more, he took a breath and realized what was still in his hand: his opponent’s face mask.

“You’ll pay for that!” an angry voice called from above.

User glanced up to see the black haired man scurrying quickly up the fire-escape. “You ain’t getting’ away that easy!” He did a quick step-run and then leapt into the air, grabbing onto the bottom rung of the extended ladder. He pulled himself up with ease and began to climb after his enemy. As he reached the third floor landing, he noticed Assassin looking down on him from a few stories above.

Their eyes met in a stare of determination.

Assassin smiled confidently. “And why would I want to get away?” He leapt off the roof of the building, performing a double-somersault. He landed solidly on his feet in the alleyway below. “After all, I can’t leave without my prize.” He started to step backwards down the alley to where the unconscious Night Owl lay.

“You wouldn’t!” User spat as he started to move around the platform to jump down himself.

“Oh, shut up!” Assassin barked as he clicked a small device in his right hand.

There was a series of explosions all around the User as the metal structure was violently jettisoned from its foundations in the brick walls! With nothing to suspend from, the entire fire-escape, along with the surprised hero, went loudly crashing down to the pavement below!

User fell onto pieces of metal, and then more metal and masonry piled down on top of him before he could get out of the way. He groaned softly, trying to move; the fall had knocked a lot out of him. As he slipped into an unconscious state, his cellular structure reverted back to that of a normal man.

Assassin watched with satisfaction. “See, User, it pays to plan ahead,” he said as he approached the rubble and carefully stepped around the edges of it. He then bent down and snatched his stolen mask from the hero’s hand that extended out from the mess. “Those punks and the faked mugging -all of it was a set-up just to get you two to show up in this alley.” He glanced around and realized the trio had awakened and slipped away during the struggle. “I set my traps ahead of time and just waited for you to spring them.” He slipped the mask over his head and once more felt secure.

“Now to take care of the lady,” Assassin said. He crossed the alleyway and picked up Night Owl’s still unconscious body. As he cradled her in his arms, he glanced at her face. “Well, my dear, it’s a shame to cut our first date so short. However, my clients ordered a rather violent and public execution for you, and I certainly can’t disappoint them.” And with that, the hired-killer laughed and disappeared into the night with his prize.

User eventually blinked his eyes open and groaned. It felt like the weight of the world had been dropped on his back, literally. He struggled to focus; it was difficult.

He heard a voice, an unfamiliar one, calling to him. “…are you alright? Hold on, man. Don’t move!...”

“…what?...” was all the hero could reply.

“An ambulance is on the way, man,” a black man, one of the nearby residents said. “I heard a lot of noise and came to check it out.” He now bent over to where the hero’s head was barely visible amidst the metal construct and recognized the masked figure. “I’ve seen you in the papers. Just hold on, User. Hold on.”

User groaned again before slipping into an unconscious state.

(to be continued)