“I don’t like it, Michael,” the older man, slightly overweight but dressed impeccably in a blue suit with a red and blue stripped tie said. “Those protestors out front could be a problem.” A few beads of sweat formed on the man’s balding brow, and he wiped it away with a handkerchief he pulled from his suit’s breast pocket. “Is that a van for one of the local news stations that I see just pulling up?”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Dickson,” the thinner man with slicked back black hair, dressed in a brown suit, next to the first replied. “I have the security detail keeping an extra eye on the doors, just in case. We won’t have any of those CASA radicals disturbing today’s opening of the exhibit.”

Jonathon Wilde frowned slightly and thought to himself. That must be the museum director that seems so worried. But I am not sure I agree with his assistant. The Citizens Against South Africa don’t appear to be a radical group, at least from what I’ve read about them.

He recalled passing through the crowd carrying large signs with slogans like “We want to part of apartheid!” and “Give Africa back to the native Africans!” only a few minutes earlier. Most of the protestors appeared to be well-educated, urban members of the Baltimore community. The crowd was mostly black in skin color with a few whites mixed in as well. The group currently gathered out front consisted of a higher percentage of females than males.

Still, if the new exhibit appears to be of some concern for the community, it might not be a bad idea to check it out just the same. Jonathon Wilde had dealt with his own fair share of oppression in his life, granted it was not something that most people could relate to even if they believed him.

Ten years prior, the writer was driving at night across the plains in the mid-west when he noticed something approaching fast and low in the sky. A few lights were the only indication of the thing's speed and size. His first thought was that it was perhaps a plane needing to make an emergency landing on the highway. But the lights were growing larger and approaching even faster. He swerved his car to avoid being hit, only to catch a tire on the low shoulder. His car went off the road, flipping numerous times. Amidst the broken glass and bent metal, he slipped into unconsciousness. He awoke some time later, in great pain, strapped to a medical table of some sort. The metal was cold against his bare skin. Through the bright lights, he could barely make out the outlines of his captors – but clearly they were not human.

The mere thought of those events gave Jonathon a chill which was enough to snap him back to the moment. It was then that he noticed a tour group was getting ready to depart, so he decided to blend into it while he evaluated the situation with the museum.

The guide, a young blonde woman with her hair tied back into a neat ponytail and dressed is a blue blazer and matching skirt, carefully walked backwards as she spoke to the group. “We have a number of interesting exhibits visiting our facility at this time,” she said. Her name tag identified her as ‘Melissa’, and from her age she appeared to be in her early twenties. She was most likely a student at one of the local colleges. “One of the exhibits comes to us all the way from Egypt. You may have heard of it – the renowned ‘Temple of Amatec’.” She made a gesture to a large archway on their left. “We’ll sweep back around later and look at that one in much further detail. But for now, I will tell you that Amatec was an Egyptian king who is rumored to be in a coma-like state in his jewel encrusted sarcophagus.”

This got some reaction from two young boys who were in the group with their mother. The boys began to whisper to one another with some excitement.

Melissa noticed their response and smiled. “Don’t worry, boys,” she said in a big-sisterly sort of manner, “I’m sure your Mommy won’t let some mummy get to you.”

A couple other people in the tour group chuckled at the comment.

Jonathon Wilde noticed more those who had not.

One was an Asian young man in his late twenties with straight black hair. He was dressed in very crisp and proper clothes, his pants neatly pressed. The young man would look up periodically from the museum pamphlet in his hands. Clearly he was someone interested in history and ancient artifacts.

Another was a man with wavy blonde hair who looked to be in his late twenties or so. He wore a hard expression on his face as if he’d been through a lot. Jonathon could certainly relate to that. This blonde man periodically rubbed his throat which was covered by a white turtle-neck sweater. Perhaps he wasn’t feeling too well.

The last was a brown haired man in his late thirties with a long angular face. The man seemed a bit disheveled, his shirt un-tucked in spots and his pants wrinkled as if he might have slept in them the night before. He seemed a bit distracted, muttering under his breath. Jonathon’s enhanced hearing picked up the muttered phrases of “I know these things…” and “this is not why I’m here…”

Concerned, Jonathon approached the man and went to put a gentle hand to his arm. “Sir, are you alright? Can I get you some help?”

The man snapped alert. “I need no help!” he said to Jonathon Wilde. “Unhand me and leave me be!” He pushed away, moved beyond the archway to the Egyptian exhibit and caught up to the tour group.

Jonathon eyed him curiously. Maybe he’s one of those CASA folks, he thought. I better keep an eye on him, just in case. He followed down the hall and caught up to the group as they were about to go into a large room. The man he was watching moved over to the left. Jonathon kept over to the right, pretending to have forgotten all about their encounter from moments before. Still, as he listened to the tour guide, he kept an eye on the man who was acting strange.

Melissa the tour guide, meanwhile, continued to speak to the group. “This exhibit is our newest one and comes to us from South Africa. May I direct your attention to the large jade statue on the center of the platform?” Everyone looked at the figure which was a carving of a large man with long features and arms stretched to the sky. “See the gemstone at the center of the figure’s forehead? This gemstone is known as ‘the Eye of Inja’. The statue is said to be of Inja, a tribal god from the skies that some of the local tribes worshipped. The story goes that the gemstone fell to Earth from the stars and fused with the jade. The tribe formed a statue from the jade and kept it in a place of honor for many centuries – until European explorers came and wiped out the tribe in the early part of the 1800’s.”

Melissa gestured to other items in display case about the perimeter of the room. “Along with this statue, many other tribal artifacts are on display. Please take a few minutes to look them over.” She smiled and stepped to the side, allowing the group to mill about while she stood by to answer any questions directed to her.

Jonathon Wilde watched the disheveled man carefully as he eyed the statue.

The man nodded to himself and muttered under his breath again. “Yes…this is why I am here…”

Jonathon decided it was time to act and pushed past the others to rush the man who was now climbing up on to the platform where the statue was displayed. “You! Stop!” he shouted.

The man turned to glare at him. His face was no longer unsure. It was focused and sharp, and his eyes blazed.

Suddenly the man was enveloped within a burst of light that emanated from his very being. The light surged about him and then receded.

Gone were the unkempt clothes. The man was now wearing a skin-tight black bodysuit with white boots and gloves. His head was completely covered by a black mask with a white face and black eye slits. On the man’s chest shined a gemstone slightly smaller than a brick, and beneath was a multi-colored row of stripes on the torso portion of the costume, ranging from red to violet.

Melissa let out a scream and began to faint.

The blonde haired man in the turtleneck caught her before she reached the floor and gently laid her down.

“Everyone, keep back! I’ll handle him!” Jonathon Wilde ordered as he leapt up onto the dais. As the costumed figure reached for the gemstone on the jade statue, Wilde grabbed his arm. “Are a little hard of hearing? I told you to stop, buddy!”

The villain spun about and pushed Wilde back with his free arm. “You dare touch the Sinister Spectrum?” he announced. “Leave me be! This is none of your concern!”

Wilde recovered his footing at the edge of the platform. “I just made it my concern!”

Spectrum paused for a brief moment as if something was attempting to tug at his brain. “You dare try to mess with my mind?” he asked. “I underestimated you, mortal!”

Jonathon Wilde was confused by his words but didn’t let that deter him. “I’m no mere mortal, mister!” He swung his right fist to punch the villain but was stopped short by an unseen force.

The Sinister Spectrum just laughed. “My gemstone protects me from all attacks – both mental and physical,” he said. “You’ve had your chances and failed. Now, let me show you what real power is, and we’ll see how much you can take!” He raised his gloved hands, and a multicolored blast shot forth from them.

The blast caught Wilde squarely in the chest and sent him flying across the room. His outer clothes were shredded, revealing gray body armor beneath them.

Spectrum didn’t notice the costume at first. Instead, he was too busy making an example of the man. “That is your second and final warning! Do not interfere with me again! That goes for all of you!” The villain turned again his attention to the jade statue and the gemstone imbedded within it.

Jonathon Wilde shook his head. This isn’t over yet, Spectrum, he thought. With his outer clothes ruined, he decided there was no point in hiding behind them any longer. He slipped a full face mask from his pocket and donned it. Then, tearing the rest of his clothes away, he revealed the costume of his other identity – Phaedrus the Wolf. Now I’m ready to… Phaedrus’ thought was cut short when he saw another costumed figure leaping over the dais. Who is that?

A masked man in what appeared to be a blue and gray camouflage bodysuit delivered a flying kick directly into the unsuspecting Spectrum’s head. The villain went tumbling off the far end of the platform.

Not bad, Phaedrus thought as he ran up to the newcomer. “Hey, I don’t know who you are, but thanks for the help.”

The newcomer just nodded silently.

Phaedrus noticed that the Spectrum was starting to rise to his feet. He spun about and kneed the villain in the groin, sending him back to the floor in pain again. It was a low blow, but he figured the villain deserved it for that last blast. “By the way,” the hero said to the newcomer, “I’m called Phaedrus.”

The newcomer nodded, paused and then began to sign with his gloved hands.

He can’t be deaf, but he could be mute. The blonde guy from before! Luckily for Phaedrus he had some experience with this forum of communication. After a few moments, he had it. “Got it. You’re the Silent Knight. Pleased to meet you.”

The Silent Knight nodded.

“No,” Spectrum groaned from the ground, “I will not be so easily deterred by the likes of you…” He raised his hand.

Phaedrus saw Silent Knight suddenly move, and he found himself pushed aside by his new ally; a beam or energy shot past them both. “Thanks,” Phaedrus started to say. Then he noticed where the beam struck – dead center to the Eye of Inja.

Silent Knight quickly moved again and attacked Spectrum, knocking him back into the dais side with a two-handed blow.

Phaedrus realized the villain’s blast did not destroy the statue or the gemstone. Instead, the Eye of Inja was beginning to pulse and glow brighter and brighter. “Knight, get down!” he warned.

The crowd in the room began to panic and rushed towards the nearest exits.

Silent Knight leapt down to the just reviving tour guide and helped her to her feet. He started to help Melissa out towards one of the exits.

Suddenly, another figure entered through one of the other exits. He wore dark body armor with light chainmail under-armor. A black cloak was clipped about his shoulders with an attached hood that covered his head. A white skeletal face mask completed the costume.

Phaedrus saw him arrive. Great, another one! Whose side is he on?

Phaedrus then felt a voice in his head as if his surface thoughts were being read.

I am Karishi the Hunter, the voice in his head said. I can protect our minds from any attack with a mental shield.

Great, Phaedrus thought, but what’ll protect our bodies if that gemstone explodes?

Explode? Karishi’s thoughts replied. I don’t think so – look!

Both heroes turned to the statue. The glowing gemstone that had been embedded into the jade suddenly detached itself, floating into the air as if under its own power.

The Sinister Spectrum was rising to his feet once more, pleased at the results. “Yes, yes,” he was saying.

The gemstone suddenly began to change shape, growing into something larger and more human-like. Appendages formed and curves became more pronounced.

After a few moments, it stopped glowing to reveal the form of a naked human woman whose well-toned, muscular body shimmered in the light as if it were made of crystal. Flowing blonde hair framed her attractive face. Her lips opened, and it appeared as if she was trying to form some kind of words.

Karishi concentrated, attempting to read her mind. He shook his head. “Her thoughts are unclear, confused,” he said in a slight Asian accent.

The woman turned to the costumed men as her mind finally adjusted. “Where…am I?” she asked.

“A museum,” Phaedrus replied. When she seemed perplexed by that, he added “in Baltimore…Maryland.” There was still no recognition. “In the United States.” Nothing. “Earth?”

“Let me try,” Karishi said. First he looked about and found a large tapestry hanging on the wall. He gave it a quick tug, pulling it free from its fasteners, and handing the material to the woman. “Here. Please cover yourself,” Karishi said. When she began to do so, he continued. “Now what is your name?”

“I am not…” the woman started to say as she wrapped the material about her like a long flowing shawl. Clearly she wasn’t ashamed of her body, but Asian hero seemed to at least want to offer a chance at some modesty..

“Crystaline,” the Spectrum said. “That is what you can call her.”

“Makes sense,” Phaedrus said. “Were you trapped in that gemstone – the Eye of Inja?”

The woman thought for a moment. “I know not this Eye of which you speak,” she replied.

“The gemstone was called the Eye of Inja,” Phaedrus said. “It was part of an exhibit here until you came forth from it.”

Crystaline shrugged. “I know nothing of that. I simply feel as if I have been awakened from a long sleep.”

“Enough!” the Spectrum shouted as he approached. “Crystaline, do not listen to them! They were the ones who were trying to stop me from awakening you. They are not of our kind.”

“Now hold on a minute,” Phaedrus said. “I’m just trying to understand what is going on here.”

“The only thing they understand is a display of power,” Spectrum said. “And you and I, Crystaline, derive our power from a similar source!” His gloved hands began to glow, and then he hurled a blast toward the heroes.

Both of them dodged out of the way, and the blast shattered a set of doors behind them.

Crystaline’s blue eyes grew wide. “Yes, I see,” she said. “I do believe your words. I feel your truth in my very core.”

Suddenly, Silent Knight leapt back into the room and prepared to strike the Spectrum once more.

“Leave him be!” Crystaline shouted.

The Silent Knight saw her grabbing for him. He spun around quickly, nailing her squarely in the chest with a martial kick.

Phaedrus charged forward, his Kara-Ton battle razors extending outward from the upper portion of his wrists. The alien metal glistened in the light. “Everyone, enough!” he shouted as he stepped between the villains and the other heroes. He turned specifically to Silent Knight. “Don’t do that again, Knight. We need to try to settle this without any further destruction. Okay?”

The Knight nodded and gave him an ‘okay’ sign.

Phaedrus turned to Crystaline. “I do realize that you were only trying to protect him,” he said, indicating the Spectrum. “But, there are a lot of things you don’t know about. And I cannot allow either of you to leave here until the authorities arrive. There are questions that need answering and damage needs that to be paid for.”

“I have done nothing wrong but free someone who was imprisoned,” Spectrum stated. “I have committed no crime.”

“You attacked us,” Karishi stated.

“Self defense,” the Spectrum countered. “As for the damage, that resulted only when I was forced to defend myself from your attacks. You three are equally as liable, if not more so.”

“You are a known criminal,” Phaedrus added. He turned to the Knight who nodded in confirmation.

“One who is currently exonerated of all past charges,” Spectrum corrected him. “I am currently a free man, not wanted at all by the police.” He leaned closer to Phaedrus and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Besides, I have seen your face without the mask. If you felt inclined to press any assault charges against me, I doubt your secret would remain so for very long.”

The hero retracted the battle razors back into his body. “I’m a fair man,” Phaedrus considered, “one who believes in truth and justice. Still, don’t push me too far, Spectrum. You won’t like it if you do.”

“Is that a threat?” the villain asked.

“It’s a promise!”

Suddenly, the museum curator and his assistant appeared at the doorway. “Is everything all right here?” Mr. Dickson asked nervously.

“We’ve agreed that fighting is in no one’s best interest,” Phaedrus announced. “But as to the question if everything is all right, well that really depends on you, sir.”

“We’ll be taking our leave,” Spectrum said as he took Crystaline by the hand. She seemed to snap back into the moment and started to follow him.

“Sir, do you wish to press charges against them?” Phaedrus asked.

The curator’s assistant started to speak, but Mr. Dickson waved him off. “No,” he said. “With the entire media circus out front and the publicity from that, I think we’ve had more than enough problems.”

“The tapestry,” Phaedrus pointed out. “She can’t leave with that. It would be theft. You wouldn’t want to commit a crime now, would you, Spectrum?”

The Sinister Spectrum turned and glared at the hero from beneath his mask. He then turned to the woman and nodded. She dropped the fabric to the floor.

The assistant’s eyes grew quite large at the sight of the completely naked and very fit woman.

Flustered a bit, Mr. Dickson said, “you can’t stroll out the front door with her like that. The press reaction will be insane.”

“Indeed,” Karishi added.

“Michael, run to my office and grab my raincoat,” Dickson said.

“Sir?”

“Just do it.” The curator turned to the Spectrum. “It’ll just be a moment and then you can leave, sir.”

“Fine,” the Spectrum nodded. “You are certainly a practical man and not someone prone to jumping to conclusions unlike…” he glanced over his shoulder “…some less sophisticated people.”

Karishi approached Phaedrus and Silent Knight, both of whom showed the frustration of these turn of events in their body language. “We three should go as well,” he said, “and find some place to talk.”

“Sure,” Phaedrus said. “We’re done here, I guess.” They proceeded to depart the museum at one of the back entrances that led to a wooded parking lot.

“While you were talking with Spectrum, I was reading the woman’s mind,” Karishi began to explain.

“I’m sure that trick comes in handy,” Phaedrus said.

“Indeed. While I did not have enough time to delve deep into her thoughts, I was able to derive a few things. It appears that she was transformed into the gemstone many centuries ago along with others.”

“That explains her confusion about locations and such,” Phaedrus said.

“So there appears to be some kind of connection between the gemstone she was imprisoned in and the gemstone the Spectrum uses to derive his powers,” Karishi suggested. “The question then is: are there others around who were imprisoned like she was and, if so, will Spectrum seek them out as well?”

The Silent Knight made some gestures with his hands. Phaedrus interpreted. “The Knight here says he’s willing to bet money on it. I think so too.”

“As do I,” Karishi agreed. “I suggest we each do some investigating on our own and then reunite again in a week’s time to compare notes.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Phaedrus said. “Do you all know the factory under renovation on Hillsdale Road? Let’s rendezvous there in a week’s time.”

“Midnight,” Karishi suggested. “I feel we each would be more comfortable in the shadows of the night.” The other two nodded. “I will see you then.” And, with that, Karishi stepped into the woods and vanished.

Phaedrus turned to the Silent Knight. “What do you think? Should we go to the police and see what help the authorities can be?”

The Knight gave a negative nod.

“Yeah, I had a feeling you’d say that,” Phaedrus said. “I prefer to work out things on my own as well. Tell you what. Let’s you and I meet together again on Monday night at 9:30pm at St. Christopher’s Church. We can see what we’ve each found out by then – perhaps maybe have some lead we can work out before we get back with Karishi at the end of the week.”

The Knight gave an approving nod.