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The Hunt

a story set in the universe of Champions Online

"Three minutes to airtime!" announced a man wearing a headset.

Minute Mouse glanced anxiously around the studio, with all its bright lights, cameras, and people. Coming as he did from an environment where being conscious of every sound and movement around you was the key to staying alive, he found the frenetic activity of the production crew of Herotalk—Millennium City's daily superhero TV talk show—taxing to his nerves, which were already high-strung simply due to his being a mouse. He tried to focus his awareness elsewhere by taking stock of his appearance, which was about to be broadcast to millions of people.

His agouti-furred body was seated in a soft, orange chair whose color clashed with his yellow shirt and green cape. It had been designed for a fully grown human, which meant that his legs stuck out only a few inches past the front edge of the seat. He was also wearing white gloves, a black belt with a white enamel buckle, and dark gray trunks that left his legs and feet bare. Of course, going barefoot in the city wasn't typically a problem for one whose footpads had the toughness of cured leather thanks to a lifetime of running barefoot through the tropical jungles of Monster Island. A black leather holster holding a Colt M1911 .45 automatic hung from each hip, and there were pouches containing additional clips and ammunition along the front of his belt. He started briefly as he caught a flash of a white-furred face on the surface of the glass table before him, before realizing it was his own reflection. He sighed and shook his big-eared head, reminding himself that this was Millennium City, not Monster Island. Nothing here was going to try to kill him.

He turned his attention to the three other people seated on the Herotalk set. Directly to his left was a gray bat, leathery black wings folded behind his back, wearing a yellow skintight bodysuit with red gloves and boots and a red letter "B" on his chest. To the bat's left sat a brown cat wearing a blue suit and a black turtleneck. Seated facing the cat was an attractive human woman with blonde hair, wearing a purple suit jacket and matching skirt with a white blouse. She was reviewing the notes she'd made on some index cards.

Standing beside one of the three cameras, the man in the headset announced: "We're live in five, four, three . . ." He mouthed the last two numbers silently, and made a motion with his hand. The light atop the camera beside him went on, and the woman looked toward it and smiled.

"Hello," she said, in a deep, sultry voice that sounded like a phone sex operator, "and welcome to Herotalk. I'm Victoria Crownstone, and I'm calling this our 'manimal edition' show, since my guests today are all manimals, human/animal hybrids created on Monster Island in the South Pacific by the mad scientist Dr. Phillippe Moreau. Please welcome Dr. Joshua Felinus, Batfink, and Minute Mouse." She turned to face the cat. "Dr. Felinus, I understand you were created by Dr. Moreau to be his assistant and were personally trained by him in the science of genetics."

The cat nodded. "That's correct, Miss Crownstone," he replied, in a soft, silky voice. "I served him for a number of years."

"Victoria, please," said Crownstone, smiling. "What was he like?"

"He was a brilliant scientist, but a cruel, sadistic man. He never regarded us as anything more than a means of advancing his goal to rule the world. Our lives meant nothing to him. That's why he pitted us against each other in bloody mortal combat to cull the weak, something that Batfink and Minute Mouse here both experienced firsthand." He glanced at them, and they both nodded silently.

"And with Moreau dead, what are his creations doing now?"

"Some, like Batfink, Minute Mouse, myself, and a few others, are using our talents for the benefit of mankind. Others are trying to increase their own personal power or are simply out for themselves."

"How many of you are there?"

"I don't know the exact number offhand, but I'd estimate around seven or eight hundred, most of whom are confined to Monster Island."

Crownstone turned her attention to her other two guests. "You recently escaped from Monster Island. What are things like there now that Moreau is gone?"

"The island is presently being administered by UNTIL—the United Nations Tribunal on International Law," replied Batfink. "They're keeping order and providing food and medicine while Father Elk leads the government in the village of New Gornyj. However, even though the terrorist organization VIPER and the multinational corporation ARGENT have been evicted from Monster Island, there are still a lot of savage manimals living in the jungle, along with reptilian Lemurians, cloned dinosaurs created by the geneticist Teleios, and hostile aliens like the Qularr and the Elder Worms, so things are still kind of a mess."

"Is that why you and Minute Mouse left?" asked Crownstone.

Batfink smiled. "Actually, we left because we wanted to come to Millennium City and become heroes."

"Well, you seem to have succeeded, since you have hero names and costumes. I understand UNTIL has granted you both registered hero status."

Batfink nodded. "They approved our applications a couple of weeks ago."

"And what has the public's reaction been to that?"

"Positive, for the most part. The people of Millennium City have been very friendly toward us. Of course, we're not the first manimals to become registered heroes. Nightmunk has been operating here for several years now."

"That's right, you helped him apprehend a gang of kidnappers recently."

"Yes, he's been a big help to us."

"How do you feel about those like Marshal Endicott who say that manimals are abominations against God and should be sterilized?"

Batfink grimaced. "I don't pay any attention to people like that."

Felinus spoke up. "If I may interrupt for a moment, Victoria, I'd like to point out that that sort of mentality is nothing new. People will, of course, bring up Hitler, but you don't need to be that extreme or go that far afield. There was an active eugenics movement in America in the early 20th century. Many states had anti-miscegenation laws that made it illegal for people of different races to marry, and thousands of involuntary sterilizations were performed in an effort to prevent people whom society judged undesirable from having children, sometimes without the victim's knowledge."

"Not that I agree with Mr. Endicott in any way," said Crownstone, "but he and his followers argue that there is a difference between laws preventing humans from marrying other humans, and laws protecting the integrity of the human gene pool."

Felinus smirked. "Notice they say 'integrity' rather than 'purity,' because the phrase 'genetic purity' has a lot of ugly historical baggage of which we're all well aware. 'Integrity' sounds tamer and more defensible, even though it amounts to the same thing. But either way, the idea is absurd, because almost all the genes in human DNA exist in other species in identical or nearly identical forms. Viruses implant their genes in our DNA all the time; that's how they reproduce. In fact, nearly half of human DNA is old, dead viruses that infected our ancestors long ago and have been with us ever since. They don't do anything, but they're transmitted from parent to child along with the rest of our genes."

Crownstone looked surprised. "I didn't know that!"

"I'd also point out that while people often say we manimals are half human, that's not true. Chimpanzees share over 98 percent of their DNA with humans, and normal cats share 90 percent. Bananas share about 50 percent. I've analyzed my DNA, and the amount of feline DNA in it—that is, sequences found in cats but not in humans—is extremely small, less than 1 percent. So it would be more accurate to say that we're humans with a tiny amount of animal DNA thrown in."

"For flavor," said Batfink, smiling. Everyone chuckled.

"That's fascinating, Doctor," said Crownstone. "And yet, that tiny amount is what makes you to look the way you do."

"Well, you have to remember that only about 2 percent of human DNA codes for the proteins that make up our bodies. The rest is mostly nonfunctional—what is sometimes called 'junk DNA,' though there's a fair amount of controversy among geneticists regarding that term. It includes ancient genes that were switched off long ago and the dead viruses I mentioned before. There are also little bits of parasitic DNA called 'transposons' that do nothing but make copies of themselves without contributing anything to the organism. They make up about 17 percent of human DNA. Basically, the human genome is like an attic full of old clothes that nobody wears anymore. But it all gets copied every time our cells divide, because the copying mechanisms can't distinguish between functional DNA and nonfunctional."

"That sounds very inefficient," Crownstone commented.

Felinus shrugged and smiled. "And yet, here we are."

Crownstone peered over at Minute Mouse. "You've been very quiet, Minute. Do you have anything to add?"

Minute squirmed in his chair, feeling uncomfortable as he looked around the studio. He didn't know anything about science, and he was not as sociable as his winged companion. He didn't like being the center of attention. As he opened his mouth to speak, he noticed a glint of red light from an observation window above the control room. Then he gasped as he saw the barrel of a rifle beneath it, and who it was aiming at.

"Look out, Doctor!" he screamed, leaping out of his chair and drawing his guns.

Felinus reacted with lightning speed, diving out of his chair just as a gunshot resounded through the studio. The back of the chair exploded, spraying stuffing as the bullet blasted through it. Crownstone screamed, and Batfink jumped to his feet and extended a wing in front of her and Felinus. A second shot struck the wing and ricocheted into one of the cameras, creating a shower of sparks. Minute bolted toward the door to the stairway that led to the room the shot had come from. He yanked it open and sprinted up the stairs, stopping just beneath the level of the floor. There was a guardrail at the top to prevent anyone from falling into the stairwell, but it was just wood and plaster. A high-powered rifle bullet would blow through it like tissue paper.

The room was dark, the sole illumination coming from a small square window looking down on the studio, the one the would-be assassin had fired from. Minute pressed his back against the side of the stairwell, facing away from the room, pistols held ready, shifting his big mouse ears as he tried to catch any scrap of sound that might give away his opponent's location. It was no use. The commotion in the studio was drowning out everything. Cautiously, he crept forward, crouching low, and peered around the edge of the guardrail.

With a thunderous crack, the guardrail above Minute's head exploded, spraying white plaster dust into his eyes and nose. If his head had been a few inches higher, the bullet would have blown it apart. He whipped his right arm around the edge of the rail, fired blindly three times where he thought the shooter was, and then ducked back down, sheltering beneath the floor. One thing he was now sure of: His opponent could see in the dark. The stairway was completely immersed in shadow, yet the shooter had seen him stick his head around the edge of the guardrail. The rifle must have a night vision scope. Minute wiped the dust out of his eyes with his sleeve and waited, listening, unwilling to risk exposing himself to another shot.

The clank of a door opening told him that the shooter was leaving the room. Minute dove around the edge of the guardrail, rolling and coming up with both guns leveled in case it was a trick. He saw a door at the far end of the room closing, the vertical band of light from the hallway outside growing thinner by the second. He ran to it and pressed his body against it, pushing it back open. As he did, he felt something wet and sticky on the sole of his foot. He glanced down. There was a crimson puddle on the floor. One of those blind shots must have scored a lucky hit. That made him feel good.

Minute burst out into the hallway, pointing guns in both directions, and looked back and forth quickly. A trail of blood spots led down the hall to his left. He followed it until it ended before a door that read ROOF. He pushed it open and ran up another flight of stairs, pausing again at the top before the door that opened onto the roof. There was an excellent chance the shooter was lying in wait to ambush him the moment he came out the door. He regarded the door for a moment. It was a steel fire door with a horizontal push bar. Taking a deep breath, he jumped, kicking the bar and flinging the door open. As the daylight outside flooded the stairway, a shot rang out, and a bullet struck the door, punching a hole through it. Minute stuck his left arm around the edge and emptied a clip in the direction the shot had come from, and then drew his arm back, ejected the spent clip, and slapped in a fresh one.

"How's it going?" came Dr. Felinus's voice from below.

Minute glanced down to see Felinus and Batfink coming up the stairs. "I winged him."

"Yeah, we saw," said Batfink.

"The bastard likes ambushes. He's tried to nail me twice that way."

Batfink chuckled. "Apparently, he doesn't know you used to ambush ARGENT poachers back on Monster Island."

"He's good," said Minute. "He's very good. And he can see in the dark."

"Fat lot of good that'll do him out here." The bat wrapped his wings around himself and stepped out onto the roof, Minute and Felinus sheltering behind him. There was the crack of a rifle shot, and a bullet struck Batfink's wing and bounced off, sending vibrations through it that made his teeth rattle as he winced with pain. "What the hell is he using, an elephant gun?"

"Can you see him?" asked Minute.

"Yeah, he's hunkered down behind that air conditioning unit at two o'clock, about a hundred feet away."

Minute leaned out from behind his friend, peering in that direction, and got his first look at their opponent. He was a big Black man, dressed like a big-game hunter, in a bush hat, safari jacket, jodhpurs, and shiny brown leather boots, a hunting knife hanging from his belt. Leather straps crisscrossed his chest, holding a pack on his back. His left eye glowed red, and his left ear was covered by a flattened metal dome. His handsome face was lined with deep scars that looked as if they might be tribal or ritualistic in nature. A red stain was spreading across his right shoulder, but it didn't seem to be impairing his ability to use his formidable-looking hunting rifle.

"Can you hit him with your screech?" Minute asked Batfink.

The bat shook his head. "He's too far away."

"I'll draw his fire," said Felinus, bounding out from behind the cover of Batfink's wings.

"Doc, wait!" Batfink shouted, but Felinus was already out in the open. The hunter fired, but the cat manimal's phenomenal agility spoiled his aim, and the bullets zinged past him. Minute jumped out from behind Batfink and charged toward the hunter, both guns blazing, blowing holes in the air conditioning unit. It whined and clattered as its spinning fans tore loose, and belched a cloud of cold white mist as the freon gas in its ruptured coils sprayed out. The hunter took advantage of the cloud to break cover and run to the edge of the roof, jumping off and landing on the roof a story below. Minute ran to the edge of the roof as well, stopped, and fired at the hunter, but his pistols' accuracy was poor at this range, and all he did was spray gravel. He jumped down after him, grinning, his buck teeth gleaming. The hunter was nearing the edge of the building. There was nowhere else he could go. He was as good as caught.

As the hunter reached the edge of the roof, two short metal wings sprouted from his backpack, sticking out to the sides, each one ending in a small jet turbine engine. He leaped into space, and the turbines kicked in, carrying him off into the sky. Minute stopped, staring up at him dumbfounded, guns lowered, as the hunter shrank into the distance.

"What the hell?" he cried.

Batfink landed behind him, followed by Felinus. "What the hell?" the bat echoed, staring after the disappearing hunter.

Minute turned and looked up at him. "Can you catch him?"

"Not on my best day."

Minute kicked at the roof. "Well, shit!"

Batfink looked at Felinus. "Any idea who that guy was, or why he'd want to kill you?"

Felinus shook his head. "I haven't got a clue."

Batfink scowled. "Terrific!"

The three manimals turned and headed back into the building.

Dr. Felinus, Batfink, and Minute Mouse sat in the office of Inspector John Cowens of the FBI, aka Kodiak, while the massively built human sat behind his small desk, awkwardly tapping the keys of his computer with his huge, hairy hands as he chewed on a pencil, his heavy brow furrowed in concentration. Kodiak was a mutant, born with the strength and agility of a great ape, as well as the physique of one, and worked with the MCPD on cases involving paranormals.

"Is this the guy?" Kodiak asked, turning his computer screen toward his guests.

All three nodded when they saw the image on the screen. "Who is he?" Felinus asked.

"His name is N'Kenzi 'Nick' Mobutu, aka Bwana."

Felinus blinked his green eyes. "Bwana? Seriously?"

Batfink and Minute Mouse looked blankly at him. "I don't get it," Batfink said.

"That's right," said Felinus, "you've only been in America a couple months, and they didn't have TV on Monster Island. 'Bwana' is a Swahili word meaning 'master,' 'sir,' or 'boss.' You hear it a lot in old movies when Africans are addressing a White man."

"But he's not White," said Minute.

"That's kind of the point," said Kodiak. "He's appropriated a term that used to be reserved for White men, presumably as a show of pride and contempt." He turned the screen back toward himself and read the biography written there. "Mobutu is a native of Zimbabwe and served in their army, where he earned the rank of captain and distinguished himself in combat, losing an eye and an ear in the process. After being involved in a failed coup attempt, he was dishonorably discharged and banished. Two years later, he showed up in Kenya, working as a safari guide. His reputation as a hunter and tracker is legendary. Supposedly, in the jungle, no one can touch him."

Minute nodded. "The man knows his stuff."

"And the city is just another kind of jungle," said Batfink.

"Somewhere along the way," Kodiak continued, "he picked up bionic replacements for his lost eye and ear, as well as, apparently, a jetpack. He has no civilian criminal record, though the Kenyan government suspects him of having been involved in a number of poaching and illegal hunting incidents, some of which have involved human prey. Immigration has no record of him entering the country, so he must be here illegally." He looked at Felinus. "And since you and he have no history together, it follows that someone must have hired him to kill you. The question is, who?"

Felinus shrugged. "I have no idea. I don't have any enemies."

Minute smirked. "You're a manimal. You have enemies."

"How about Marshal Endicott?" asked Batfink. "He hates manimals."

"Do you honestly see someone like him hiring a Black man?" asked Kodiak.

"Maybe," said Minute, "if he wanted the best."

"Guys like him are flaming hypocrites," said Felinus. "They have no problem sacrificing their principles if it gets them what they want. But why pick on me? There are lots of other manimals out there."

"How many of them are scheduled to be awarded the Nobel Prize for genetics?" asked Batfink.

"I hadn't thought of that," said Felinus. "He did protest my selection on his radio show."

Batfink nodded. "As I recall, he used some pretty threatening language, along the lines of 'something needs to be done about this.'"

"He might see you as a symbol that needs to be smashed," said Minute.

"Interesting theory," said Kodiak, "but it's pure supposition. We haven't got a shred of proof that Bwana is working for Endicott."

Batfink grinned. "Then let's find some."

"How?" asked Felinus.

"Capture Bwana and make him talk."

"The police already have an APB out on him," said Kodiak.

"Yeah," said Batfink, "I don't see the cops having much luck finding someone who specializes in being unseen. For that, you need another hunter." He smiled at Minute, who smiled back.

"I'm not sure I like where this is headed," said Kodiak.

"We're both registered heroes," said Batfink. "Fighting supervillains is our job."

"Assuming you can even find him, how do you intend to make him talk? The Zimbabweans couldn't force him to give up the names of his fellow coup conspirators, and I understand their methods were, shall we say, less than civilized."

Minute grinned, his buck teeth gleaming. "We'll ask him real politely."

Batfink nodded. "Maybe even invite him to dinner." He bared his fangs.

"Need I remind you," said Kodiak, "that as registered heroes, you're bound by the laws of this country, and those laws forbid torture and coerced confessions? This isn't Monster Island, it's Millennium City."

"Relax," said Batfink. "We'll be on our best behavior." He glanced at Felinus. "How about you, Doc? You want in on this?"

"I'm a scientist," Felinus replied. "I don't do violence."

"Well, violence is sure trying to do you," remarked Minute.

"Yeah," said Batfink, "if it hadn't been for Minute, Bwana would have splattered your brains all over that studio."

"All the more reason not to give him another shot at me," said Felinus. "Besides, I have a gel electrophoresis running that requires my personal attention."

"A what?" asked Minute.

"Science stuff," said Batfink. "In that case, Minute and I will hit the streets and see if we can sniff out where Bwana's holed up. A big Black guy with a scarred face wearing a bush hat and safari jacket shouldn't be that hard to find."

"Not to mention his bionic eye and ear," Minute added.

Kodiak sighed. "I can't stop you, but consider this: By wounding him, Minute has most likely painted a target on his own back. Bwana is a proud man. He's not going to let a slight like that go unavenged."

Minute grinned. "Good! I'm looking forward to a rematch!"

Batfink smiled at his partner. "Then let's nail the creep! See you later, Doc, Kodiak!" He and Minute rose from their chairs and left the office.

Kodiak shook his head. "They're going to get themselves killed."

"I think you may be underestimating them," said Felinus. "They survived on Monster Island, one of the most lethal places on Earth. Nobody who can do that dies easily."

Kodiak looked at him. "I doubt Bwana will want their deaths to be easy."

"So, where do we start looking?" Minute asked as he and Batfink emerged onto the street in front of police headquarters, getting more than a few startled looks from passersby.

"I was thinking maybe Chinatown," Batfink replied.

Minute raised an eyebrow. "Why Chinatown? A Black guy would stand out there like a sore thumb."

"It's also a maze of decaying old buildings. Lots of places to hide."

"Chinatown is Red Banner territory," said Minute. "They're not gonna take kindly to having a pair of manimals on their turf."

Batfink smiled. "Well, that's just too bad for them, isn't it?"

Minute grinned back, smacking his fist into his palm. "In that case, I wanna stop off back at our apartment and re-stock my ammunition."

The bat nodded, picked up his smaller companion, and with a flap of his black, leathery wings, carried him off into the sky, while people on the sidewalk stared up at them.

They flew across the run-down neighborhood of Westside and landed on the roof of their apartment building. "Thank you for flying Batfink Airways," said Batfink as he let the mouse down.

"Are you ever gonna stop saying that?" Minute asked in annoyance as he unlocked the rooftop door.

The bat grinned and shook his head. "No, never."

They descended the stairs to the fourteenth floor and emerged into the hallway that led to their apartment. They both froze when they saw someone sitting on the floor outside their door. It was an Asian girl of about eighteen, wearing an expensive sapphire blue designer jacket over a cheap black T-shirt, a maroon and amber plaid designer skirt, and shiny cream-colored designer boots. She smiled and stood up when she saw the two manimals.

"Mỹ Dạ!" cried Minute. He ran up to her, and they threw their arms around each other and kissed deeply.

"Bon jour, Kena," she said, using Minute's real name as she stroked the back of the mouse's head.

Batfink smiled as he walked over to them. Du'o'ng Mỹ Dạ had been one of the passengers on the La Dauphin, the yacht on which he and Minute had hitched a ride to escape from Monster Island. She was a French girl of Vietnamese descent, a model who had been a guest of the yacht's owner, a man named Duval. She and Minute had become quite close during the two-week journey back to Tahiti. "Bon jour, Mỹ Dạ," he said.

"Bon jour, Reeseg," she replied, breaking the kiss with Minute. "So, you are heroes now. I like your costumes! They are tres chic!"

"Thanks," said Batfink, "your outfit is nice, too! We certainly weren't expecting to find you here. Why didn't you call?"

"I thought I would surprise you. I have never been to America before. You are the only people I know here."

"It's so wonderful to see you again!" said Minute, gazing up at her adoringly.

"Unfortunately," said Batfink, "we're kind of in the middle of something."

Mỹ Dạ looked excited. "Ooh, is it superhero stuff?"

"Yeah, we were just on our way to Chinatown," said Minute.

"May I come with you?" she asked eagerly.

"I don't think that's a good idea," said Batfink. "It could be dangerous."

Minute nodded. "We're hunting for a killer."

"Do either of you speak Chinese?" she asked.

They both hesitated. "No," said Batfink.

Mỹ Dạ beamed, looking delighted. "I do!"

The two manimals looked at each other.

"Okay," said Minute, grinning. "You're in!"

Chinatown was a neighborhood in Millennium City's Westside district. It was much like the Chinatowns of other large American cities, an enclave of colorful, tourist-friendly Asian exoticism. Beneath that, however, lay a seamy underbelly of crime and corruption. This was the exclusive province of the Cult of the Red Banner, a gang that used martial arts and mysticism to terrorize civilians. The cult worshipped a creature called the Death Dragon, which a mad Chinese sorcerer named Hi Pan had once summoned and sent on a rampage before the city's heroes had driven it back to whatever shadowy realm it came from.

Batfink, Minute Mouse, and Mỹ Dạ made a rather conspicuous trio, standing out on a sidewalk beside one of the huge painted wooden gates with upward-turned ends that marked the official boundaries of Chinatown. The local residents gawked openly at the two costumed manimals and the Vietnamese girl in her expensive designer clothes. Two hours of showing Bwana's picture around had gotten them nowhere, and they were all tired and hungry. Fortunately, there was a Chinese restaurant right across the street. Taking a break from their search, they went inside.

"This is a huge waste of time," Minute grumped as he used chopsticks to fish some noodles out of the bowl in front of him and ferry them to his bucktoothed mouth. "He's not here."

"We can't be sure of that," said Batfink, picking up a dim sum with his chopsticks.

"Don't you think someone would have seen him? Like us, he tends to stand out!"

"The locals have no reason to tell us anything," Batfink countered. "They don't want the Red Banner to see them talking to us."

"Then what are we doing here?" Minute demanded.

"Trying to get his attention. Remember what Kodiak said. He's proud. He's gonna want payback for that wound you gave him."

"I think we have succeeded in getting someone's attention," said Mỹ Dạ, nodding toward the window. Out on the sidewalk, six Asian youths wearing scarlet tunics had gathered and were peering through the window at them. They looked decidedly unwelcoming.

Minute grinned. "Finally, some action!"

The youths entered the restaurant, sauntering with casual arrogance over to the table where the two manimals and their human companion were eating.

"Can we help you?" Batfink asked, smiling.

"Yeah, beat it!" one of them said, scowling.

"We don't like freaks in Chinatown," said another.

Batfink glanced around the restaurant. "I don't see any freaks." He looked at Minute. "Do you see any freaks?" Minute knocked back a gulp of Tsingtao beer and shook his head, big round ears waggling. Batfink grinned at the youths, showing needle-like teeth. "No freaks here!"

One of them sneered at Mỹ Dạ. "You prefer these animals over real men?"

She sneered back. "I do not see any real men here! Only overgrown boys!"

"Besides," said Batfink, "she's not your type."

Minute nodded. "She's not even Chinese."

"And she has standards," said Batfink.

One of the youths whipped out a butterfly knife, flipped it open, and rammed it point down into the table, causing Mỹ Dạ to squeak with alarm. "You don't talk like that to us, freaks! We're Red Banner! We own this town!"

Batfink and Minute both regarded the knife casually and then looked up at the youths. "Why don't you buzz off before you get hurt, junior?" Batfink said.

The youths yelled and lunged at them. Minute jumped to his feet, standing on his chair, and grabbed one by the shoulder, slamming his face down on the table, breaking his nose in the process, as Mỹ Dạ shrieked. The boy cried out in pain as blood sprayed across the table. Batfink emitted an ear-piercing sonic screech, dropping three of them. Of the remaining two, one pulled a gun and fired at Batfink, who blocked the shot with his wing, the bullet bouncing off and drilling a hole in the ceiling. The last one opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and breathed a jet of flame at Minute, who nimbly dodged it.

"Whoa!" said Minute, struggling to regain his balance atop his chair. "Wasn't expecting that!" He leaped at the fire-breather, knocking him down, and seized him in a choke hold, cutting off his air as the boy struggled and squirmed. Batfink blocked another shot from the boy with the gun and then seized his gun arm, forcing it upward. As the bat's claws sank into his wrist, drawing blood, the boy screamed and dropped his gun, which clattered on the floor at his feet.

"Where's Bwana?" the bat hissed in his ear. "Is he in Chinatown?"

"I don't know who you're talking about!" the boy cried.

"Like hell you don't. His picture is all over the news. You said the Red Banner owns this town. That means nothing happens here that you guys don't know about. Is. He. Here?" He tightened his grip, his claws sinking deeper as the boy screamed in agony.

"T-Tieling Building!"

"Where's that?"

"Market Street!"

Batfink threw the boy to the floor, where he lay whimpering and clutching his wounded wrist. "Better have that looked at. It could get infected."

Minute rose grinning from the fire-breathing youth, who was lying on the floor unconscious. "Squeeze a punk, out pops a clue." Then he yelped in surprise as Mỹ Dạ threw her arms around him.

"I was so afraid for you!" she said, clutching the mouse tightly.

Minute smiled, gently stroking her cheek. "Thirty-eight death matches in Moreau's fight pits and these losers are gonna punch my ticket? Not likely!" He pressed his bucktoothed mouth to her lips.

"Punch your ticket?" came a woman's voice from the front of the restaurant. "Since when do manimals talk like 1940s private eyes?"

They all turned to see a slim woman with short, blonde hair and blue, almond-shaped eyes. She was wearing a white, long-sleeved tunic with a purple-and-magenta flower design on the front, pants bearing the same design down each leg, and purple boots.

"We've been watching a lot of old detective movies," said Batfink.

Minute nodded, grinning. "Alan Ladd rocks!"

"Who are you?" asked Batfink.

"Janet Long, aka Lotus," the woman said, walking toward them. "And you are Batfink and Minute Mouse. I saw you on Herotalk."

"This is Du'o'ng Mỹ Dạ, from France," said Minute, gesturing to her.

"Bon jour," said Mỹ Dạ, nodding.

"Bon jour," Lotus replied. "This wouldn't have anything to do with that African big-game hunter the police are looking for, would it?"

"Yeah, we thought he might be hiding out in Chinatown," said Batfink. "Are you after him, too?"

"I wasn't, but Chinatown is kind of my beat. I heard two manimals were poking around here, so I decided to drop in and make sure you didn't get into any trouble."

Batfink looked down at the six Red Banners sprawled on the floor. "No, no trouble."

"We think we have a lead on where Bwana's holed up," said Minute eagerly.

Batfink nodded. "The Tieling Building on Market Street."

Lotus raised an eyebrow. "That rat-trap? He'll be lucky if it doesn't fall down around his ears!"

"We were just gonna head over there," said Minute. "Wanna team up?"

"Sounds like an idea," said Lotus. She glanced at Mỹ Dạ. "Is she a super?"

Minute grinned. "Only if looking gorgeous is a superpower." Mỹ Dạ blushed and squeezed the mouse.

"In that case, it would be better if she didn't come," said Lotus.

Batfink nodded. "I agree. Bwana is a killer."

"He's a big-game hunter," said Minute. "He's not gonna bother with a civilian."

"Minute has a point," said Mỹ Dạ. "Why would he kill me? What sport would there be in it?"

Lotus shrugged. "Fine, come if you want, then."

Batfink paid the bill, and the four of them left the restaurant.

The unusual quartet walked for five blocks along Ward Street, through the center of Chinatown, getting plenty of stares from the local inhabitants. Batfink glanced at Lotus, noting her blonde hair and blue, almond-shaped eyes. "Are you Chinese?" he asked.

"Half," she replied. "My father was Chinese, my mother was White."

The bat nodded. "What kind of things can you do?"

"Mostly martial arts, but I also have some mental powers. I can control people's minds and make them see things and feel pain."

"Can you read their thoughts?" asked Minute Mouse.

She shook her head. "I'm not a telepath. Someone once described my powers as 'hypnotism with teeth.'"

"Good!" said Minute. "I don't like people poking around in my head."

Batfink grinned at him. "Afraid they'll find out there's nothing there?"

Minute glared back.

They turned north onto Market Street and followed it for six more blocks until they saw the Teiling Building, a crumbling, fifteen-story brick office building that was a hundred years old if it was a day. It had long been abandoned, its windows gaping empty holes save for those on the bottom floor, which had been boarded up. The lot around it was overgrown with grass, shrubs, and small trees and surrounded by a wooden fence bearing signs warning that this was private property, and to keep out, and that the building was unsafe, along with illegible, multicolored scrawls of graffiti.

"Boy, you weren't kidding!" said Minute Mouse, looking up at the decaying structure. "What a dump!"

Lotus nodded. "I keep wondering when the city's going to tear it down. It's a real eyesore."

"You know," said Batfink, "if Bwana's up there, he could be aiming at us right now. That rifle of his probably has at least a five-hundred-yard range."

"How would he even know we were here?" asked Minute. "He can't see in every direction at once. Besides, he's gotta sleep sometime."

"Even so," said Lotus, "we should approach with caution."

Minute turned to Mỹ Dạ. "You should stay here. Even though Bwana has no reason to hurt you, I'd feel better if I knew you were safe."

Mỹ Dạ nodded and crouched down to hug the mouse. He returned the hug, and they kissed. Then she let go and stood up. "Be careful, mousie."

Minute grinned. "I'm always careful." He turned to Batfink and Lotus. "Okay, let's do this."

Batfink, Minute Mouse, and Lotus dashed across the street to the Teiling Building, Minute and Lotus easily leaping over the fence while Batfink spread his wings and flew over it. They ran across the overgrown lot and flattened themselves against the side of the building. So far, all was quiet. Minute and Lotus climbed up to a second floor window and entered, while Batfink flew up and did the same.

The interior was strewn with trash left by vagrants and other trespassers who had managed to get inside. There were more than a few empty liquor bottles and beer cans, among other refuse. Rats scampered here and there, and both Batfink and Minute could hear the ultrasonic squeaks of bats coming though holes in the ceiling. The three began searching for a way up.

"Here's the elevator," said Minute, beckoning to the others. They both came over and peered through the gaping open door into the shaft. A frayed steel cable ran between the blacknesses above and below.

"The car must be in the basement," Lotus commented.

"Makes sense," said Batfink. "They wouldn't want it falling down and maybe killing someone. There's not enough room in there for me to spread my wings. Think we can climb up the shaft?"

Minute Mouse shook his head. "If Bwana is up there, we'd be sitting ducks for him. Remember, he can see in the dark. Besides, look at that cable. Climbing it would be like climbing razor wire."

"Then let's take the stairs," said Lotus, gesturing to a door beside the elevator that said STAIRWAY. Minute took a glowstick from his belt and cracked it, producing a soft, eerie, green luminescence, and they proceeded up the stairs, Batfink taking the lead with one wing raised as a shield.

"How do we know he's not in the basement?" Lotus asked.

"He'd want the best vantage point he could get," said Minute. "Besides, would you want to be in the basement of this place?"

"Good point."

They ascended floor after floor, Batfink's and Minute's ears straining to catch any sound that might betray their quarry's location as they all tried to avoid alerting him to their presence by picking their way carefully around the garbage that had accumulated in the stairwell. As they reached the twelveth floor, Minute held up a gloved hand, and the other two froze.

"Something's moving around up there," Minute whispered.

"Are you sure it's not rats?" asked Lotus.

"No, it's something big."

"Be on your guard," said Batfink, as they continued upward.

At the top floor, the stairway ended at a landing before an open door. The room beyond was well lit by the open windows. From it came the sound of footsteps. They all peered around the edge of the doorway to see who it was.

It was not Bwana.

The man was Black, wearing only a pair of grass-covered shorts and a white mask with two projections pointing up and two more pointing down, his lower face uncovered. His dark brown body was painted with symbols and signs of various colors. Around his neck he wore a necklace with wooden images of several animals. A leather satchel was slung over one shoulder. He was crouching before a canvas cot with an aluminum frame, sniffing it. Beside the cot lay a kerosene stove and some empty food packages.

Minute drew his pistols and stepped out into the room. "Don't move!" he warned, pointing his guns at the man.

The man tensed for a moment. Then his head slowly turned toward the mouse, and his eyes narrowed behind his mask.

"Who are you?" asked Batfink, stepping out to stand beside his friend.

The man slowly rose to his feet, gazing at them, but said nothing.

"He looks African," Minute said. "Maybe he doesn't speak English."

Batfink glanced at Lotus, who was still in the stairwell. "You know this guy?"

She stepped out into the room. The man's eyes widened, and he said something in what sounded like an African language.

"What's he saying?" asked Minute.

"I don't know," replied Lotus. "I have no idea who he is or what language he's speaking."

"Think you can make him tell us?" Batfink asked.

"I can try. Of course, if he doesn't speak English, we're not going to understand him." She concentrated, trying to use her hypnotic powers on him.

The man grinned. "My will is stronger than yours, White girl."

"He does speak English!" said Minute.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Batfink demanded.

The man smirked. "I am Deathmask. That is all you need to know."

"Maybe he's working with Bwana," Lotus suggested.

"Oh, that's all we need!" said Minute. "Two African hunters running around the city!"

Deathmask snorted. "Bwana is a butcher! He does not respect the land!" Then he grinned. "Feel the curse of one who does!"

Batfink's ears pricked up. "Do you hear that?" he asked.

Minute and Lotus both listened. From seemingly all around them came rasping, scratching sounds. Then suddenly, rats came boiling up out of the stairwell and through the gaps in the floorboards and falling through the holes in the ceiling, spreading out across the floor like a gray carpet.

"Holy crap!" shouted Minute, looking around wildly.

Batfink screeched and a hundred or so rats flopped to the floor and lay still, but there were hundreds more where they came from. The three heroes began backing away from the stairwell as the rodent horde advanced.

"It's him! It's got to be!" growled Minute, leveling his pistols at Deathmask. "Call them off!"

Deathmask just laughed, arms folded across his chest as the tide of rats flowed around his feet toward them.

"Okay, you asked for it!" said Minute. He fired a shot. The bullet bounced harmlessly off Deathmask's bare chest. "Son of a bitch!"

The heroes retreated until their backs were against an exterior wall, Minute shooting uselessly at Deathmask while Batfink screeched repeatedly, dropping scores of rats each time. However, the strain on the bat's vocal cords was starting to show as his screeches grew weaker. Even so, he had succeeded in significantly reducing the rats' numbers. Deathmask snarled and ran toward him with incredible speed, his fist raised to strike. Lotus stepped in front of the bat and blocked the blow, then struck Deathmask's chin with her open palm. He grunted and threw a punch at her, which she nimbly dodged. His fist smashed through the brick wall behind her. He swung and missed again, punching another hole in the wall. Then Lotus delivered a tien-hsueh strike to a cluster of nerves on his right side. He cried out in pain and staggered back, eyes wide.

"Yeah, that got him!" shouted Minute, triumphantly. Lotus simply grinned at her foe.

Deathmask growled at Lotus, then turned and leaped out the window. The three heroes ran to it and looked down in time to see him land on his feet fifteen stories below, apparently unharmed.

"We can still catch him!" shouted Minute. "Get us down there, Bats!"

"Uh, guys?" said Batfink, pointing directly ahead of them. Lotus and Minute looked up and gasped. A huge dark cloud was approaching the building, and as it came closer, they could see what it was made of.

Roaches.

Batfink wrapped his wings around himself and his companions, enclosing them all in a leathery black shell. A moment later, they were engulfed by the swarm, and could hear thousands of roaches scrabbling all over the outside of their tiny sanctuary. They all winced at the disgusting, skin-crawling sound.

After what seemed like forever but was in fact only a few minutes, the sound died away. Batfink cautiously opened his wings a narrow crack. Nothing happened. He opened them a little wider. Still nothing. Slowly, he lowered his wings and they all looked around. It was quiet. The roaches were gone. There were still plenty of unconscious rats lying on the floor, but the roaches didn't appear to have harmed them. The three heroes looked at each other.

"What the hell just happened?" asked Minute Mouse.

Back at the Westside apartment of Batfink and Minute Mouse, the two manimals and Mỹ Dạ relaxed over beers while Lotus logged onto UNTIL's website using her cell phone. It was getting into the afternoon, and the shadows of the city were growing long outside.

"A little lower class than you're used to, huh?" asked Minute, smiling up at Mỹ Dạ as they sat together on the couch while Batfink sat in a chair nearby. "On the La Dauphin it was all champagne and caviar."

The French girl smiled back at him. "I do not mind, mousie. It is enough that I am here with you." She leaned down and kissed his cheek, and he grinned sheepishly.

"So, what does UNTIL have to say about Deathmask?" Batfink asked Lotus.

"His real name is Gumala Butano," Lotus replied, "and like Bwana, he's a Zimbabwean expatriate. He led a revolt against Zimbabwe's government and is responsible for the overthrows of two other African rulers. Uganda is offering a reward for his capture, which Bwana has tried and failed to collect."

"Well, that explains what he's doing here," said Minute.

Batfink nodded. "He called Bwana a butcher who doesn't respect the land."

"Yes," said Lotus, "Deathmask is apparently very protective of animals, so it makes sense that he'd hate someone who hunts them for a living."

"Well, anyone who loves animals can't be all bad," said Minute. He grinned up at Mỹ Dạ, who giggled.

Lotus glanced at him. "He's also a known cannibal."

Minute grimaced. "Forget what I just said."

"Great," muttered Batfink. "And I thought Bwana was bad!"

"This Deathmask sounds like a monster!" said Mỹ Dạ, shuddering.

Lotus nodded. "He is. A monster who hates White men. He's kidnapped and murdered dozens of them."

"And now he's here in Millennium City," said Batfink, "hunting the hunter, as it were."

"Maybe we should just let them kill each other," said Minute.

Batfink shook his head. "You know we can't do that." He looked at Lotus. "What does UNTIL know about his powers?"

"Not much. He's never been caught, and since he operates mainly in the jungles of central Africa, there haven't been many opportunities to study them. He can control animals, as we saw, and he's superhumanly strong and fast. He can also see in the dark and track his prey by scent."

"And shrug off .45 slugs like they were jelly beans," Minute added bitterly.

"My hypnotic powers didn't fare any better," Lotus reminded him.

"So, where does that leave us?" asked Minute.

"We still have no proof that Bwana is working for Endicott," said Batfink, "but since he didn't fulfill his contract, it's a safe bet he'll try again."

"So we stick close to Doc F. and wait for Bwana to take another shot at him?"

Batfink nodded. "And hopefully nail both Bwana and Deathmask, assuming he shows."

"We should probably ask Josh what he thinks about this," said Lotus.

"Josh?" asked Minute, raising an eyebrow.

"Dr. Felinus and I are friends. We worked together on a case involving stolen DNA samples last year."

"Were you planning on telling us this at some point?" asked Batfink, annoyed.

"I'm telling you now. Let me give him a call." She dialed his number on her cell phone and waited a moment. "He's not picking up."

"That could be bad," said Minute anxiously.

"Not necessarily. He may have set his phone to 'Do Not Disturb' because he's busy, or because he's sick of reporters bothering him after that assassination attempt."

"Then how do we contact him?" asked Batfink.

"He has his own laboratory in City Center. It's called Metagenetics. He's probably there now."

"Let's go see him, then."

Minute turned to Mỹ Dạ and opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him by pressing a finger to his nose. "It is okay, mousie," she said, smiling. "You go do what you must do. I will be fine on my own."

Minute smiled at her. "I promise I'll make it up to you. When this is over, we'll go out for a night on the town together."

She grinned. "And I hope a night in your bed as well." She kissed his snout, and he giggled.

"If you're both quite finished," said Batfink, "we have a job to do."

"Oh, don't be such a grind, Reeseg," Minute said, hopping off the couch. He grinned at Mỹ Dạ and bowed. "Au revoir, ma ch _é__ ri!_" She smiled and blew him a kiss.

"Come on, Romeo," Batfink sighed as he and Lotus headed for the door. Minute turned with a dramatic sweep of his cape and followed, feeling ten feet tall.

Lotus parked her car in the lot beside a gray, single-story brick building in City Center with a sign identifying it as Metagenetics, and she, Batfink, and Minute Mouse got out and walked toward it. Two UNTIL agents stood guard at the front door, wearing blue-gray jumpsuits, black combat boots, and black berets, each armed with an UNTIL blaster rifle. The trio presented their hero IDs, and the agents let them pass.

"Why is UNTIL here?" Batfink asked Lotus.

"They fund Dr. Felinus's research," Lotus replied. "Also, Bwana is wanted by UNTIL."

They found the cat manimal in his laboratory, wearing a lab coat and talking to an attractive, lab-coated woman whose long auburn hair was tied back in a ponytail. Both turned as the trio entered.

"Hello, Janet!" said Felinus, smiling, his green eyes lighting up. "Nice to see you again! Hello, Batfink, Minute Mouse. Allow me to introduce my assistant, Dr. Veronica Blessing."

"Pleased to meet you," said Blessing, smiling at the trio and shaking hands with all three.

"So, how's the investigation going?" Felinus asked.

"There's been a new wrinkle," Batfink replied. "Turns out someone's after Bwana, another African villain named Deathmask."

Minute nodded. "And he makes Bwana look like a pussycat!" Then he caught himself as he remembered who he was talking to. "No offense, Doc."

Felinus chuckled. "Have you found out who hired Bwana to kill me?"

Batfink shook his head. "We tracked him to his hideout in Chinatown, but he wasn't there. Instead, we found Deathmask. We fought him, but he got away."

"Batfink and Minute Mouse think our best chance of catching Bwana is to wait for him to make another attempt on your life," said Lotus.

Felinus nodded. "Makes sense."

Blessing looked alarmed. "Do you really think that's a good idea, Doctor?"

Felinus shrugged. "What choice is there? Bwana's a hired killer. He's not going to stop. If they can catch him, maybe they can find out who hired him."

Minute grinned. "Oh, we'll get it out of him, don't worry about that!"

Lotus glanced at the mouse. "I can get it out of him."

"And once Bwana is in custody," said Batfink, "Deathmask will have no reason to stay."

"So, looks like you're stuck with us for a while, Doc," said Minute.

Dr. Felinus smiled at him. "You sound pleased by that."

Minute nodded. "I want another shot at that creep!"

"I suspect the feeling's mutual," said Batfink dryly.

"Good! Let him come!"

"There's a lounge just down the hall where I relax between experiments," said Felinus. "It's not much, but it's reasonably comfortable."

"Great!" said Minute. "I'll order a pizza!"

Once the three heroes had left the laboratory, Blessing put her arms around Felinus and pressed her face against his shoulder. "I'm so scared, Josh!"

Felinus held her and stroked her hair. "It'll be all right, Veronica. They'll get him." He pressed his muzzle to her lips as his tail swished.

The Pacific Ocean is unbelievably big, bigger than all the other oceans of the world combined. It is what remains of Panthalassa, the superocean that existed before the supercontinent Pangea broke apart 175 million years ago. It is so insanely huge that you could drop all the Earth's continents into it and still not fill it up. Looking straight down from six thousand miles above the island of Tahiti, it is almost all you can see, the continents of North America, Asia, and Australia just barely peeking around the world's edges. In the middle of this immense watery expanse, the motor yacht La Dauphin puttered along like an ant crawling across a parking lot, an infinitesimal flyspeck in that mind-numbing vastness.

It was just before dawn, and Kena and Mỹ Dạ sat together on the yacht's foredeck, reclined against a bulkhead. The mouse wore only a pair of blue nylon swim trunks he'd borrowed from Duval, having taken the earliest opportunity to dispose of the dirty, ragged loincloth he'd been wearing when he'd arrived, while the Vietnamese girl wore a tangerine bikini she'd bought in a very expensive fashion boutique in Paris. They were pleasantly high, as they'd been drinking champagne all night and had also each done a line of cocaine.

They had both gotten very high the night before last. Weaving away from the yacht's official party room to find a cabin to sleep it off in, they had fallen into a berth together, and nature had taken its course. The next morning, when they'd awakened in each other's arms, there had been surprise and embarrassment, then shy apologies while avoiding eye contact, then giggling, and finally, uncontrolled laughter as they remembered how much fun it had been and realized there was nothing to be ashamed of. Then they'd made love again, and what had started as an accidental one-night stand had become something more. Now, they sat watching the sky brighten in the east, holding hands. As the first molten glimmer of sunlight dribbled over the horizon, spreading a line of fiery sparkles across the calm surface of the water, they gazed into each other's eyes, embraced, and kissed. It was a perfect moment.

"Earth to Minute. Are you there?"

Minute Mouse shook himself out of his reverie, his big ears waggling, and looked up at Lotus, who was standing over him with her arms folded, lips pressed together. "Did you say something?"

"Patrol time," she replied.

"Sorry," said Minute, yawning and stretching, then sliding down off the couch in the lounge. "I must have zoned out." He checked the clock on the wall. It was 2 AM. Blessing was asleep on a cot by the wall, as she and Felinus were taking turns standing watch over an experiment which apparently required constant supervision. For a moment, the mouse felt a pang of regret, thinking about Mỹ Dạ back in his and Batfink's apartment, sleeping alone. It must be scary for her, being by herself in a strange country. He hoped this business would wrap up soon. They had so much catching up to do since they'd parted ways in Tahiti. He walked over to Batfink and Lotus, who were standing beside the door, and the trio left the lounge to begin their hourly patrol of the building.

In an alley across the street from Metagenetics, Bwana waited, still as a stone, pressed against a brick wall as though he were part of it. He had dispensed with his hunter outfit, rifle, and jetpack, and now wore only a black leotard bottom, a belt, and a pair of black soft-soled boots, his broad chest—scarred from many battles—left exposed. His sole weapon was a hunting knife strapped to his thigh. His dark face split in a grin. This was hunting at its purest—sinew against sinew, mind against mind. He had stalked lions and leopards this way. All had fallen before him. This cat would fare no better.

He surveyed the front of the building, his bionic eye able to see quite clearly in the dark. There were two UNTIL agents stationed before the front door, each armed with a blaster rifle. They would pose no problem. As he watched, one turned and went to the door, intending to unlock it so he could go inside to relieve himself. Silent as a shadow, Bwana bolted across the street, staying between the lights, and flattened himself against the front of the building adjacent to Metagenetics. The UNTIL agents remained unaware of his presence. He could have easily killed both of them, but he had no intention of doing so. He bore these men no malice. As the key clicked in the lock, Bwana took a small canister from his belt and tossed it so that it landed between the two agents, releasing a cloud of knockout gas. One breath was all it took to incapacitate most men. They fell to the ground, and Bwana ran to the door, pulled it open, and went inside, locking it behind him.

Bwana padded down the brightly lit hall like a jungle cat, pausing when he came to a door marked LOUNGE. There was no light coming through the crack at the bottom. He tried the knob, turned it, and eased the door open slowly. His nostrils caught the scent of pizza and coffee. He noticed someone sleeping on a cot beside the wall. He slipped inside, closed the door quietly behind him, and moved across the room to the sleeping figure. Seeing that it was a woman, he frowned. Women were always trouble. Still, she might be useful to him. He clamped a hand over her mouth. She made a muffled noise of alarm and looked up at him, eyes wide, like a frightened doe.

"I have no wish to hurt you," Bwana said, in a deep, low voice, "but if you scream, I will. I assure you, it is not a problem for me. Where is Felinus?" He lifted his palm from her mouth.

"He . . . he's not here!" she replied. "He left town after you tried to kill him!"

"You are lying," said Bwana calmly. "I know he is here. Lie to me again, and I will cut your face." He drew his knife and held it over her. She was attractive, and attractive women were most terrified by threats to their beauty. "Where is he?"

Blessing whimpered, trembling as she looked up at that cruel steel blade hovering above her cheek. "He's in the chemistry lab!"

"Where is that?"

"Second door on the right!"

"Is anyone with him?"

"No! The others are patrolling the building!"

"The mouse and the bat?"

"Yes!"

"I see. Thank you." He sheathed his knife and removed another gas canister from his belt. Taking a deep breath and holding it, he cracked it open. Blessing fell unconscious at once. Bwana stepped back from the cot and exhaled once he was outside the cloud of gas. Then he turned and left the room.

In the alley where Bwana had been hiding, Deathmask crouched and sniffed the asphalt. He smiled as he caught the hunter's scent, and straightened. As he was about to head across the street, a blue pickup with rusty red paint patches pulled up in front of Metagenetics, and five youths got out. They all had shaven heads and were wearing leather vests, jeans, workboots, and white T-shirts. Deathmask scowled when he saw a sticker on the truck's rear bumper that read "Born White." There was another sticker for something called the American People's Party, another of the Confederate flag, and still another showing a black silhouette of Africa surrounded by a red circle with a diagonal line through it.

The five skinheads stopped before the front door of Metagenetics, looking down at the two unconscious UNTIL agents in puzzlement.

"What the hell happened here?" one asked.

"I dunno, Jayce," said another. "Looks like someone took 'em out!"

"They're not dead, Luke," said a third, pointing. "See, they're still breathing!"

"I don't like this!" said a fourth, looking around nervously. "Something's wrong!"

"Yeah, we should clear out!" said the fifth.

Jayce turned to him and smirked. "Oh yeah, the marshal will just love that, Bo!"

"Screw him!" Bo shot back. "What if someone blames us for this? Those are UNTIL agents! They'll land their black helicopters in the middle of the Compound and massacre everyone!"

"Don't be stupid!" Jayce scoffed. "UNTIL hasn't got the balls to do that. They're a bunch of peace-loving hippies! Besides, you're with me!" He picked up the agents' blaster rifles and held them out to Luke and the third youth. "Here, take these."

Luke accepted the weapon and looked it up and down, grinning like an ape. "Nice!"

The third youth turned his over in his hands, gazing at it dubiously. "Looks like something out of Star Wars! How does it even work?"

As the pair tried to figure out their new weapons, Jayce tugged on the door and found it locked. Frowning, he pointed at it, and electricity arced between his finger and the lock, which quickly melted, liquid metal running down the frame to form a silver puddle on the ground. Jayce grinned at the others as he pulled the door open. "White Lightning to the rescue!"

"That is so cool!" said Luke. "I wish I had superpowers!"

White Lightning shrugged. "Maybe we'll find something in this freak's lab that'll give you some."

Luke shook his head. "Forget it, man! I don't wanna turn into no stinkin' manimal!" He held up his blaster rifle and grinned. "I'll keep this, though!"

The third youth nodded, chuckling. "Ancient weapons and hokey religion are no substitute for a good blaster at your side!"

They entered the building, Bo reluctantly lagging behind the others. In the alley across the street, Deathmask grinned and began moving toward him, licking his lips.

In the chemistry lab, Dr. Felinus put down a beaker containing a gelatinous substance resembling egg white. He dipped in and then lifted up a glass stirring rod, gazing in wonder at the glistening strands that now hung from it. The strands were raw DNA, extracted from bacteria that carried certain genes he wished to study. After all these years, the sight of it still filled him with a sense of awe. This was the stuff of life itself, full of secrets waiting to be unlocked. It made his heart swell with pride to know he was one of those working to unlock them. His work concerning the effects of a recently discovered orchid extract on the genetics of tissue rejection had gained the recognition of the Nobel Foundation, which had chosen to award him their prize for research benefitting humanity. That was all well and good, but such accolades were trivial to him compared with the sheer joy of discovery, the excitement of wresting nature's secrets from her.

He transferred a sample from the beaker to his DNA analyzer, taking care not to get any on himself, as raw DNA is a carcinogen. As he injected the sample into the analyzer, his whiskers detected a vibration in the air caused by something moving behind him, and his pointed ears automatically swiveled toward it. That alerted the source of the vibration, who lunged at him. Felinus whirled aside with inhuman speed as something ripped through the fabric of his lab coat. Turning, he found himself gazing into the scarred face of Bwana, the red glow of the hunter's bionic left eye reflecting off the gleaming stainless steel blade of the knife in his right hand.

Felinus extended his claws and slashed at Bwana's sinewy right arm, cutting three crimson gashes into the man's dark skin. Ignoring the gashes, Bwana thrust with his knife, punching another hole in Felinus's lab coat and narrowly missing his torso. Felinus leaped, sailing over Bwana's head, and twisted his body in midair, landing on his feet on the black Formica countertop of the lab bench behind him.

"I'm impressed," Felinus said. "Not many can sneak up on me."

Bwana spun to face him, his knife's blade describing a lazy figure eight in the air. "You are not the first to fall before the world's mightiest hunter."

Felinus smirked. "Aren't you being a bit premature? You haven't killed me yet."

"I will. No prey eludes Bwana for long."

Felinus walked slowly backward along the countertop, keeping his eyes on the hunter. "Would it be asking too much for you to tell me who hired you?"

Bwana said nothing, just moved to keep pace with him, leaving a trail of blood from the gashes on his arm, knife weaving, eyes fixed on his quarry.

"Was it Endicott?" Felinus asked, glancing at the door to the hall. Bwana seized the split second the cat's attention was diverted, slicing at his legs with his knife. Felinus jumped, evading the cut, and somersaulted, landing on the floor on the other side of the bench. They both stood crouching and facing each other as each waited to see which way the other would move.

The door flew open, and both Felinus and Bwana turned their heads toward the noise. White Lightning entered the lab, grinning, the words "Born White" emblazoned across the front of his T-shirt. His grin quickly faded when he saw Bwana. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

"I was about to ask you the same question," said Felinus. "If you're here to kill me, you'll have to take a number."

"Oh, I'm here to kill you, freak!" snarled White Lightning. "And I'm not letting Sambo here beat me to it!" He raised his arm, and a bolt of electricity shot from his hand toward Felinus. The cat dodged it easily, and the bolt struck a cabinet full of chemicals, which exploded into flames. A moment later, the fire alarm went off, emitting a harsh, ear-splitting buzz.

"You idiot!" Felinus yelled. "You want to blow us all up?"

White Lightning blinked, apparently not having considered that a chemistry lab might contain flammable liquids. Then he yelped as Bwana charged and slashed across his chest with his knife. Staring down at the red line between "Born" and "White" in horror, White Lightning howled with rage, and electricity erupted from his body in every direction, disintegrating his clothes and arcing to Bwana, who collapsed to the floor, twitching spasmodically.

Lotus, Batfink, and Minute Mouse were just finishing their patrol when the fire alarm went off. They ran back toward the chemistry lab, rounding a corner to see three skinhead youths standing in the hall, two of them armed with UNTIL blaster rifles, the other with a .45 automatic. The three skinheads immediately started shooting, and Batfink raised his wings before himself and his companions, the bullets and plasma bolts bouncing off them. Minute drew his pistols, but Lotus pushed them down. "Let me handle this," she said.

Minute frowned, but said nothing.

Lotus concentrated on one of the blaster-armed youths. As she made him feel gut-wrenching pain, the boy cried out and fell to the floor. She did the same to the other one, and he fell as well. The third boy, realizing he was out of his league, turned and made for the front door. Lotus, Batfink, and Minute Mouse ran to the door of the chemistry lab and peered inside.

The sprinkler system had gone off, and the floor of the lab was covered in water, which was starting to spill out into the hall. The air reeked of ozone. Facing them was White Lightning, an electric aura crackling around his naked body. At his feet lay Bwana, either unconscious or dead. Felinus was standing behind a lab bench, getting soaked as water rained down from the sprinklers above.

"Look out, he's got electrical powers!" Felinus shouted over the deafening buzz of the fire alarm and the hiss of the sprinklers. "Your wings won't help!"

Batfink grinned. "You think so?" He raised his wings as White Lightning lifted his arms toward him and electricity arced between him and the bat. Nothing happened. Then Lotus concentrated, and White Lightning collapsed to the floor as his aura went out.

"You okay, Josh?" Lotus asked.

Felinus came out from behind the bench, looking bedraggled, his clothes drenched. "I'm fine, just a little damp." He looked at Batfink. "How did he not electrocute you?"

Batfink smiled, holding up one booted foot. "My boots have rubber soles. Electricity can't do a whole lot to you if you're not grounded."

"Well, that was clever of you!"

"Tell Nightmunk. It was his idea." Batfink looked down at Lotus, who was kneeling beside Bwana. "How is he?"

"Bad," she replied. "He's been seriously burned. Also, it looks like his bionic eye and ear have shorted out."

"The fire department and the paramedics will be here in a few minutes," said Felinus.

"One of them went out the front door!" said Minute Mouse. "Let's get him!" The mouse ran out of the lab, bare feet splashing in the water, and Batfink and Lotus ran after him.

Bo had been standing outside the front of the building, watching his companions through the glass door, when he felt a hand grab his shoulder. He started and spun around, gasping at the sight of a Black man in a pair of grass-covered shorts, his body covered with painted symbols, a white mask covering most of his face. He was grinning, showing rotten yellow teeth.

"Who . . . who are you?" Bo asked, trembling in fear.

"I am called Deathmask," the man said. "And I eat White boys like you." He smacked his lips.

Bo quaked. "Look, this wasn't my idea, okay? Marshal Endicott sent us!"

"Who is that?"

"He's the leader of the American People's Party!"

Deathmask remembered the bumper stickers on the pickup. "And he does not like Africans?"

Bo squirmed. "Not especially."

"Where is he?"

"In the Compound. It's a camp just outside town."

Deathmask smiled. "Take me there."

Bo swallowed. "If I do, promise you won't eat me?"

The smile widened. "I promise."

Shivering, Bo walked to the pickup, getting in the driver's side while Deathmask got in the passenger side. As he turned the ignition key, Enos burst out the front door of Metagenetics, holding his .45 and waving his arms as he ran toward the pickup.

"Bo, wait for me!" Enos cried.

Bo glanced at Deathmask.

"Go," Deathmask growled.

Bo didn't argue. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator, and the pickup's tires squealed as it leaped forward, tearing off down the street and leaving Enos behind. Enos stood staring blankly after the shrinking pickup. He could have sworn there had been a Black man in the cab beside Bo, but that didn't make any sense. Then he spun as Minute Mouse burst through the front door.

"Drop it!" Minute shouted, pistols leveled.

Enos dropped his gun and raised his hands.

"Who was that in the truck?" Minute demanded, as Lotus and Batfink emerged from the building behind him.

Enos sneered. "Screw you, Mickey!"

Minute looked up at Lotus. "If you would?"

Lotus concentrated on the skinhead for a moment. "Who was in the truck?"

Enos answered without hesitation. "Bo Waldron, and some Black guy."

Batfink raised an eyebrow. "A Black guy?"

Enos nodded. "I think he was wearing a white mask."

The three heroes all looked at each other.

"Where are they going?" Lotus asked Enos.

"Probably to the Compound."

"What compound?" asked Minute.

Lotus answered for Enos. "He's referring to the headquarters of the American People's Party, the White supremacist group led by Marshal Endicott. It's just outside town."

Batfink glared at Enos. "Did Endicott send you?"

Enos nodded. "Yeah, we were supposed to back up Jayce—I mean White Lightning. The marshal ordered him to kill Dr. Felinus."

"All right," said Lotus. "Go back inside the building and wait quietly for the police to arrive."

Enos nodded and walked obediently past them and into the building.

"So, what do you think?" Batfink asked Lotus.

"I think sometimes I hate being one of the good guys," said Lotus, scowling.

"You mean because you have to protect scumbags like Endicott?" asked Minute.

Lotus nodded and looked at the two manimals. "I won't blame you if you don't want to come."

Batfink sighed. "I'll come, but only because I have to."

"Same here," said Minute unhappily.

They all went to Lotus's car, got in, and drove off.

The streets of Millenium City were mostly deserted at this early hour, and Lotus drove like a maniac as she tried to catch up with the truck carrying Deathmask, her car's tires squealing each time she veered around a corner. Batfink and Minute Mouse gritted their teeth and held on tight. This was a new experience for them. Then she took the ramp onto Interstate 86, heading west out of the city, and the driving became smoother.

"I don't understand it," said Batfink, shaking his head.

"Understand what?" asked Lotus.

"This obsession with skin color. It seems so unimportant."

She shrugged. "To some people, it's very important."

"But why?"

"Because they have nothing going for them, and they desperately need someone to look down on so they can feel better about themselves."

"So it's all about ego?" Minute asked.

Lotus nodded. "That's all it was ever about. They have all kinds of rationalizations and justifications for it, but the simple truth is no one wants to be the bottom man on the totem pole."

The two manimals lapsed into silence as they sped along.

The Compound looked like a prison camp, because that was what it had once been, a camp for German, Italian, and Japanese POWs built during World War II. After the war it had been abandoned and had lain deserted and forgotten for decades, slowly crumbling into ruin. It had been far enough from the center of Detroit to escape the destruction of that city by Doctor Destroyer in 1992. Recently, it had been purchased by Marshal Endicott, with the help of some wealthy backers who shared his views, and converted into the headquarters of the National American People's Party, the White power organization he had founded. It was surrounded by a ten-foot chain link fence topped with razor wire. Guard towers with searchlights constantly scanned the surrounding area for undesirables. Inside, Endicott had stockpiled food and weapons in preparation for the race war he was certain was coming. He had wanted to plant mines around the Compound, but the state of Michigan had refused to let him. It had been the site of protests by various groups of concerned citizens over the years.

Bo stopped his pickup on the dirt road that led to the Compound, a few hundred yards from the front gate. He turned to Deathmask. "This is as far as I go. I don't want anyone to see me with you."

Deathmask smiled that hideous smile. "It will not make any difference."

Bo felt a chill run down his spine. "You promised you wouldn't kill me!"

"I promised I would not eat you. I said nothing about killing."

Bo screamed and bolted from the truck, running for the nearby woods. Deathmask concentrated on the leopard totem on his necklace and bounded atop the roof of the pickup with the grace of that jungle cat. He crouched there, grinning as he watched the boy flee, the night like day to him. Killing this boy would take only a moment, and then he could attend to the task at hand. He jumped down off the roof, concentrated on another totem, and raced after Bo with the explosive speed of a cheetah, swiftly closing the gap between them.

As Deathmask reached for Bo, he became aware of the sound of an approaching car and turned his head to look at it. The car skidded to a stop behind the pickup, slinging dirt, and Minute Mouse jumped out, guns leveled.

"Freeze, sucker!" he shouted.

Deathmask frowned as he watched Lotus and Batfink exit the car as well. While he had no doubt he could defeat these three, the sound of the battle might alert Endicott, and he didn't want his prey to escape. What was more, the police might be following them, and they might have weapons that could actually hurt him. There was a limit to how much damage his magical body paints could resist. He turned and began running toward the Compound at fantastic speed.

"I've got him!" shouted Batfink, flapping his wings and flying after Deathmask. Unfortunately, the bat realized, the man could run faster than he could fly and was already out of range of his sonic screech. As Batfink watched in amazement, Deathmask leaped, effortlessly clearing the fence and landing inside the Compound. The guards in the towers realized something was wrong, and were shouting and turning the beams of their searchlights on the area behind the front gate. The bat continued flying toward the Compound.

"Let's go!" Lotus said as she got back into her car. Minute paused, looking at Bo, who was standing there staring dumbly at him.

"Go home," said Minute, then turned and ran to the car, jumping in the passenger side. Lotus threw the car in gear, and it sped off toward the Compound.

Bo silently watched the car drive off, hugging himself and trembling. Then he peeled off his leather vest with "Born White" written on the back and let it fall to the ground. He walked back to his pickup, got in, turned it around, and drove away.

Inside the Compound, Deathmask watched in amusement as a man in a tan paramilitary uniform with the insignia of the American People's Party on the shoulders strode toward him, holding an automatic.

"What are you supposed to be, Black boy?" the man sneered. "Some kind of witch doctor?"

"I am Deathmask," Deathmask replied.

"This's private property, boy. I'd be within my rights to shoot you where you stand!"

Deathmask shrugged. "Go ahead." He began walking toward him.

The man hesitated for a moment, not understanding why Deathmask wasn't afraid of being shot. Then he realized he could kill the Black man freely, something he'd always dreamed of doing. Nobody outside the Party would ever see or know what happened here. They could bury the body in the woods somewhere, or dump it in a lake. He pulled the trigger, and his gun spat.

The bullet struck Deathmask squarely in the middle of his chest and bounced off. Deathmask continued walking toward him.

"What?" the man asked, eyes wide. It was the last word he ever spoke, as a second later Deathmask rammed his fist through the man's chest. It erupted through the back of the man's tan tunic, glistening crimson. The man made a gurgling sound, blood welling up in his mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his body went limp, impaled on Deathmask's arm. Deathmask swung his arm and flung the body away.

The sound of the gunshot had attracted several more men in uniform, all of them pointing guns at him. Then they stopped and stared as a yellow-and-red, bat-winged figure swooped down out of the night sky and landed behind Deathmask. Batfink glanced at the body lying sprawled grotesquely on the ground a few feet away and snarled. "You're under arrest for murder, Deathmask!"

"Forget it, freak!" one of the men shouted. "We'll handle this trash!"

"Wait, you don't—" Batfink began, then raised his wings to shield himself as the men opened up on Deathmask and the air was filled with zinging lead. Several shots missed and struck Batfink's wings, though he was never able to find out whether the hits had been accidental or deliberate. In the end, it didn't matter, as none of the bullets had the slightest effect on either of them.

Deathmask looked around as the men who had been shooting paused, staring at him in disbelief. More men were coming, some of them carrying rifles, shotguns, or automatic weapons. He frowned. These idiots were starting to annoy him. He reached out with his mind. "Come, my black brothers," he thought. "Come and attack these White fools."

Hearing that the shooting had stopped, Batfink lowered his wings, then winced as his ears were assaulted by thousands of ultrasonic shrieks. He looked up and gasped as the air was filled with the buttery sound of thousands of flapping wings, and a cloud of black shapes descended on the Compound.

Bats.

The bats rained down upon the Compound, covering it in a blanket of black leathery wings. Uniformed men fired their weapons up at them, but it was an exercise in futility. Soon the men were all running and screaming, covered by sleek, downy, flapping bodies as dozens of tiny mouths lined with needle-like teeth gouged their flesh.

Batfink noticed with some surprise that the bats weren't attacking him. Perhaps they recognized him as one of their own, he thought. Unable to hear Deathmask's mental command, he had no way of knowing it was because he wasn't White. Animals have simple minds and interpret commands very literally. He opened his mouth and screeched at Deathmask, who stood laughing in the middle of the fluttering vortex, also immune to the bat plague. Deathmask winced, covered his ears, and glared back at him. Instantly, every bat in the Compound converged on the bat manimal, like iron filings being pulled by a magnet, and for the second time in as many days, Batfink wrapped his wings around himself, forming a protective shell as his feral cousins engulfed him.

Satisfied that there would be no further interruptions, Deathmask turned and began running toward the largest building.

Lotus drove her car straight toward the front gate, Minute Mouse sitting anxiously in the passenger seat, gripping the hand rests.

"Put your head down!" she shouted as the gate loomed before them, and she and Minute ducked their heads in case the windshield shattered. The car tore through the gate, scarcely slowing down, as it was only chain-link fencing and not much of an obstacle for a ton of steel hurtling at sixty miles an hour. Lotus slammed her foot on the brake, and the car skidded violently, its tires carving ruts in the earth as dirt sprayed from beneath them. Remembering her driver training, she wrested the steering wheel in the direction of the skid, and the car straightened out as she regained control. It ground to a halt in almost the exact center of the Compound.

Lotus and Minute got out, the mouse holding a gun in each hand. "Where's Batfink?" he asked, looking around.

"I don't know," said Lotus. Against the black backdrop of night, neither of them noticed the small dome covered with quivering black, furry bodies.

Minute saw a man in a tan uniform staggering across the compound, his face a mask of blood. The mouse ran up to him. "Where's Batfink?" he demanded.

The man stared at him, blinking the blood out of his eyes. "Who?"

"A bat manimal wearing a yellow-and-red costume!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Where's Endicott?" asked Lotus.

The man sneered. "Like I'd tell you!"

Minute snarled and aimed a pistol at him. "You have three seconds to answer before I blow your fucking head off! One! Two!"

"No need for that, Minute," said Lotus. She concentrated on the man for a moment. "Where is Endicott?"

The man pointed at a small building at the south end of the Compound. "Those're his private quarters."

"Thank you," Lotus said. "What happened to you?"

"Bats!" the man said, shuddering.

"Bats?" Lotus and Minute chorused.

He nodded. "They attacked the Compound, millions of them!"

Lotus glanced down at the ground and noticed a handful of dead bats lying there, the unlucky few who had been struck by the bullets fired by the camp's residents. She looked back up at the man with the bloody face. "You might want to see a doctor about those bites. Bats often carry rabies."

"Come on," said Minute impatiently, "let's go!"

They both began running toward the building.

Marshal Endicott was sitting on his hard, rough bed in his spartan quarters, a liquor bottle clutched in one hand. He was a medium-sized man, with a thick neck and a stocky, compact build. His weathered face was scarred with frustration and cruelty, his gray eyes glinting with madness. On each hip was a holster holding a Colt .45 automatic, the same gun Minute favored, only Endicott's were black, almost blue-black, with two ivory plates set in the grip, one on each side. At meetings and rallies, he wore a tan uniform with shoulder patches bearing the insignia of the American People's Party, along with a cloth face mask with eyeholes punched in it and a wide-brimmed hat reminiscent of a Marine drill sergeant. However, when he was alone at night, he donned an old Confederate uniform and sat around drinking and mumbling to himself. Facing him on the dresser were framed pictures of the two men he admired most: Robert E. Lee and Adolf Hitler.

The sound of gunfire from outside penetrated his alcoholic haze, and he dimly wondered if the treasonous federal government had finally come to destroy him. He had been expecting them to for some time. They couldn't afford to let him live. He was far too dangerous to their corrupt, debased society, where Blacks and Jews were permitted to hold high office. But that was fine. He was fully prepared to die for what he believed in, to become a martyr for the cause. He took solace in his certainty that his death would serve as a bugle call to awaken White Americans to the danger they faced.

The door burst open, and Endicott's head snapped around as his room was invaded by a blonde woman in a white, purple, and magenta outfit and a mouse manimal in a yellow shirt and green cape, holding a gun in each white-gloved hand. He blinked at the pair with bleary, unfocused eyes. "Who are you?" he slurred.

Minute stared at him. "This is Marshal Endicott?"

Lotus nodded. "Pathetic, isn't he?"

Endicott's booze-soaked brain struggled to connect his visual input with his conscious mind. "You're a mouse!" he said, looking at Minute.

"Very observant!" Minute said.

"Next he'll realize I'm a girl," said Lotus.

Endicott rose unsteadily to his feet. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "These are my private quarters! No one's allowed in here, least of all a woman and an abomination against God!"

"We're saving your life, you stupid drunk," snapped Minute.

"Though we'd really prefer not to," Lotus added.

Endicott glared at Minute. "You can't talk to me like that, you disgusting manimal!"

"Ah, blow it out your ass, loser!" Minute sneered.

Endicott went for his guns, but Lotus concentrated and he froze.

"Now sit down and don't open your mouth again," she ordered him.

Endicott sat back down on his bed, staring straight ahead in silence.

Minute shook his head. "If you could only make that permanent."

Lotus smirked. "I always find it amusing when people claim to know what God wants. Shockingly, it always turns out to be what they want."

Minute nodded. "Damnedest thing, huh?" Then he looked pensive. "I wish I knew where Batfink was."

"Well, we can't afford to go looking for him right now," said Lotus, "not with Deathmask still out there."

"I know," said Minute. "I'm just worried about him."

In the main building, which housed the American People's Party's business offices, security office, file room, communications center, and combination mess hall and meeting hall, Deathmask's leering, white-masked visage hovered inches before the terrified face of a party member, his reeking breath making the man's stomach turn. "I will ask one more time," Deathmask growled. "Where is Marshal Endicott?"

The man squirmed as Deathmask held him by his throat, those dark brown hands like steel vises around his soft, pink neck. "Go to hell, ni—!"

Deathmask tightened his grip, cutting him off mid-word, and the man gave a strangled cry. "Tell me," he hissed, "or I will squeeze your neck until your eyes pop out!"

The man trembled as Deathmask's rheumy, bloodshot eyes bored into his. "He's in a small building on the south side of the Compound," he rasped. "His name is on the door."

Deathmask grinned, displaying rotten yellow teeth. "Thank you." He squeezed and was rewarded by the gratifying sound of vertebrae cracking. He let the man fall at his feet and watched with pleasure as he lay there, eyes bugged out, trachea crushed, his face turning blue as he gasped for air like a fish out of water. After a moment, the gasping ceased. Deathmask exited the building and headed south.

As Deathmask strode across the Compound toward Marshal Endicott's private quarters, several members of the American People's Party took potshots at him. He ignored them as their bullets bounced off. They were unimportant. He noticed Lotus's car sitting in the middle of the Compound, its tire tracks leading back to the ruptured front gate. So, that blonde woman and that gun-toting mouse manimal had decided to join the fun. Good, he thought, grinning. He looked forward to killing them both once he had done what he'd come here to do.

Deathmask arrived before a small building with a sign identifying it as Marshal Endicott's private quarters and warning everyone not to enter. He raised one bare foot and smashed the door in. Beyond was a simple, plain room, lit by a single bulb, with a man in a gray uniform sitting on a bed. The man did not react to the door's destruction. Being ignorant of American history, Deathmask did not recognize the man's uniform as that of a Confederate soldier, nor did he know what Endicott actually looked like, but it hardly mattered. This was a White man, and that was reason enough to kill him. He advanced into the room.

Lotus sprang from behind a dresser and launched a kick at Deathmask's chest, which struck, causing him to grunt with pain. At the same time, Minute Mouse popped up from behind the bed, both pistols leveled, and fired. Ignoring the bullets as they bounced off his body, Deathmask threw a punch at Lotus. She blocked it, then dropped and did a leg sweep, knocking his legs out from under him and landing him on his ass. Deathmask snarled with rage, jumping to his feet, and threw another punch. His fighting style was crude and untrained, Lotus observed, but he was incredibly strong and fast, much more so than herself. If even one of his punches landed, she was finished.

Minute agonized over what to do. His guns appeared to be useless. He glanced at the whiskey bottle Endicott had been drinking from, now sitting on a small table beside the bed along with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He seized the bottle and hurled it at Deathmask's naked back, where it shattered, dousing him with Kentucky bourbon. Then he snatched up the lighter. It bore an image of a white robed and hooded figure and the words "Loyal order, KKK." Minute had no idea what it meant, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that it made fire. He flicked the lighter, the flame sparked to life, and he bounded across the bed, touching it to Deathmask's back.

Instantly, Deathmask's body was wreathed in flame, and he howled in pain and terror. Though Minute had had no way of knowing this, Deathmask was mortally afraid of fire, having narrowly escaped being burned to death in a bushfire as a boy. His face still bore the scars of the burns he had suffered in that episode. He ran outside and dropped to the ground, whimpering and rolling as he tried to put out the flames.

Crouching in darkness in the protective dome formed by his wings, Batfink could hear nothing but the shrieking and scrabbling of bats as they struggled to find a way to reach him, their sounds wreaking havoc on his nerves. It seemed as though he had been like this for hours, and the air inside his shelter was getting stale. He wondered where Minute and Lotus were. Then he remembered he had a cell phone tucked in a pocket of his costume. He took it out and called Minute. The phone buzzed, then flashed a "Do Not Disturb" message. Batfink sighed.

Suddenly, the noise of the bats ceased, and he no longer felt their tiny teeth and claws on his wings. Cautiously, he opened them. The bats were gone, presumably having returned to their normal nocturnal pursuits. He didn't know why they'd left, but he was glad all the same. He noticed Lotus's car sitting in the middle of the Compound. Then he saw a burning man emerge from a small building to the south, throw himself to the ground, and roll around, trying to put out the fire. Batfink blinked as he realized it was Deathmask. He spread his wings and flew toward him.

Lotus and Minute Mouse followed Deathmask out of Endicott's quarters, Lotus trying to smother the flames on Deathmask's body with a blanket. They both looked up as Batfink flew in and landed beside them.

"Where the hell have you been?" asked Minute, annoyed.

"Hiding beneath my wings," Batfink replied. "Deathmask ordered a flock of bats to attack me."

"Cauldron," said Lotus, as she patted out the last of the flames.

"What?" asked Batfink.

"A group of bats is called a cauldron."

"Huh!" said Batfink. "I didn't know that!" He glanced down at Deathmask, who lay face down on the ground, unmoving. "He looks like he's out."

"Good!" said Minute. "Then I'll take this as a souvenir." He lifted Deathmask's totem necklace from around his neck. "It'll look great hanging in my window!"

Deathmask shrieked and reached for the necklace, his white mask half burned away. "No! You cannot have that! It is sacred!"

Minute jumped back out of reach, grinning. "Sacred, huh? Well, isn't that interesting? This wouldn't by any chance be the source of your powers, would it?"

Deathmask glared at the mouse hatefully. "Give it back!"

"Thought so," said Minute smugly. "I'll just keep this safe for you. Or rather, from you." He tucked the necklace into his belt.

Deathmask howled and hurled himself at the mouse, but Batfink screeched, staggering him, and Lotus knocked him out with a nerve strike.

"Well, that's the end of that," said Minute, brushing his gloved hands together.

"Look out!" shouted Batfink, jumping in front of Lotus and Minute and raising his wings. Gunshots rang out as bullets impacted his wings and bounced off. Marshal Endicott was standing in the doorway, firing his twin .45s.

"Mongrels!" he screamed. "Half-breeds! Freaks!"

"You think he means us?" Minute asked Batfink.

Batfink shrugged. "Could be."

"I've had quite enough of this," said Lotus, scowling. She concentrated on Endicott, and his guns fell at his feet. Minute zipped in and scooped them up.

"Nice guns!" he said, examining them.

"You monsters haven't won!" Endicott seethed.

"Actually, we have," said Batfink. "We came here to stop Deathmask from killing you, and we did. You're welcome."

"I'll have you lined up against a wall and shot," Endicott raged, "like all traitors!"

Lotus smirked. "That means a lot, coming from a guy with a picture of a traitor on his dresser."

Endicott glared at her. "General Lee was a patriot, fighting for his country!"

"He violated his Army oath to uphold and defend the Constitution. When an American soldier joins the army of a foreign power and fights against the U.S., that's called 'treason.' Lee was as much a traitor as Benedict Arnold."

Endicott screamed, lunging at her. She calmly sidestepped his clumsy attack, grabbed his arm, and twisted it behind his back. "Liar!" he shouted, spittle flicking from his lips as he struggled uselessly against her hold. "General Lee was a hero! I fought for him at Antietam and Gettysburg! I saw the atrocities committed by the Union, how they incited Blacks to rise up against their rightful masters, how they tried to crush our pride and spirit during the evil years of Reconstruction! It's my sacred task to right the wrongs committed during the War, and give this country back to true Americans!"

"What is he talking about?" asked Batfink, baffled.

"Oh my god," said Lotus, a look of dawning horror on her face. "He's insane! He's talking about things that happened over a century and a half ago as if he'd been there!"

"Never mind that," said Minute. "Make him admit he hired Bwana to kill Dr. Felinus."

Endicott gave a harsh laugh. "As if I'd ever trust an ignorant Black with anything important!"

"I'm inclined to believe you," said Lotus, "but just for the record, did you hire Bwana?"

"I did not," Endicott replied flatly.

Batfink and Minute Mouse stared at him, slack-jawed. "But if he didn't hire him," Batfink asked, "who did?"

"That's a good question," Lotus said. "Unfortunately, there's no shortage of people who hate manimals."

Minute folded his arms. "Well, at least we can prove he sent White Lightning to kill Dr. Felinus. That skinhead admitted it!"

Lotus shook her head. "That was a coerced statement. Inadmissible in court."

Batfink shrugged. "So, we don't tell them that."

Lotus gave the bat a stern look. "When you became registered heroes, you swore to uphold the law. That would not include lying to the police."

Batfink looked down, ashamed. "Sorry, I forgot."

"Anyway, there wouldn't be any point in lying, since my hypnotic compulsions don't last long. When the cops interrogate those skinheads, they'll just deny everything."

"But can't we get him for attempted murder?" asked Minute. "He shot at us!"

"We're trespassing on private property. He had every right to shoot at us."

"So what you're saying is, we've got nothing," said Batfink, dejectedly.

Lotus nodded. "That's what I'm saying."

Minute kicked at the ground. "Well, that sucks!"

Lotus released Endicott. "Help me get Deathmask to my car so we can take him to a hospital. Those burns look pretty bad."

As Lotus, Batfink, and Minute Mouse picked up Deathmask's unconscious body, Minute looked at Endicott and held up one of his black, ivory-handled .45s. "I'm keeping these!"

Endicott roared and lunged at the mouse, but Lotus concentrated and he froze.

They carried Deathmask back to Lotus's car and laid him in the back seat, Minute staying there with him while Batfink took the passenger seat. Lotus gunned the engine, and they drove out of the Compound through the broken gate.

Minute made a disgusted sound. "Why do you put up with people like Endicott?"

Lotus sighed. "He has the right to speak his mind."

"You know he wouldn't let anyone else do that if he was in charge!" Batfink said, accusingly.

"Of course he wouldn't. That's not the point. Someone much wiser than me once said, 'I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.' People like Endicott are the price we pay for free speech."

They drove through the night in silence.

The following day, the desk sergeant at MCPD headquarters, a heavy, middle-aged Black woman, glanced up as a young man with a blond, shaven head wearing a sleeveless T-shirt, blue jeans, and work boots came up to her. She noted the Confederate flag tattooed on his right arm. "Can I help you, sir?" she asked, eyes narrowed.

The man swallowed. "My name is Bo Waldron. I . . . I want to report an attempted murder."

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