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Book ~8~ of the TWILIGHT OF THE GODS Series

Return of the Titans

---

-Prologue- Illusions of Grandeur

Thursday, July 27, 2049 - morning... Syracuse, New York ...

The Niagara Hudson Building, a gorgeous Art Deco tower over a century old, loomed over Erie Boulevard.

A black man, mid-thirties in appearance, gazed up at the façade.

A large winged sculpture graced the front of the building. It shined as if in triumph - it was once a symbol of optimism and technological progress in the face of the Great Depression. And now, one hundred seventeen years later, it was still beautiful.

Another man walked by, speaking a single word of acknowledgement. "Slim."

"What's good?" asked Slim. The two exchanged a half-hug, and went through the smooth pattern of a three-part handshake.

"Not much, brutha. My sister's zapped out over some baby-daddy shit. I'm headed there now. Ed's lookin' for you. I heard T-Bone is tryin' to get all up in that boy's shit over a female."

"A'ite, yeah, I heard something 'bout T-Bone. That ghetto bird is lookin' ta fly," Slim said. "Good luck with that sister drama."

"Yeah, good luck to the both of us. My sister can be embarrassing. The ex just wanna see his daughta'. It's my sister who bein' a triflin' bitch. I hate when she get zapped out over some dumb shit."

"Right, right." Slim never understood where some of the street lingo came from but was too laid back to question it. "If she's gonna get 'zapped out' over something dumb, tell her to stop playing that Laser Tag."

The second man laughed at Slim's pun.

"Go handle your shit, playa'. I'll catch up with you."

Slim's friend made an acknowledging hand gesture, and then headed down the street.

Slim gazed back up at the building, stared for a moment longer, turned away from it, and started walking again. Moments later, he paused in front of a pawnshop with televisions in the front window. Closed captioning displayed the words of a news anchor on the screen.

The captions read, "...Voting to commence on changing the name of Syracuse to its new name. The city council has narrowed the voting to such names as Neo York, New York II, New-New York, and Empire City. The new name will go in effect next year on the twenty-fifth anniversary of the original New York City, which was lost in the Great Quake of 2025. Mayor Tyrell Matthews has announced that the new Yankees stadium will be finished before the city's name change goes into effect, but will reflect the new name of the city. The current Syracuse baseball stadium, built in 1997, and renovated in 2026, holds less than forty thousand people. The new stadium is expected to hold a record-breaking one-hundred-and-ten-thousand baseball fans, proving a surprisingly renewed interest in the sport." The announcer continued talking but Slim wasn't interested enough to follow it.

Slim drew in a deep breath. The salty smell of the Atlantic Ocean had a different, far more humid scent than back home in California. He began walking along the sidewalk again. Slim stopped at an intersection, waiting by the crosswalk.

A rare sight caught his attention. A white couple sat in their sedan. They made brief eye contact then locked the doors. He could tell by the muffled clicking sound that came from the door panels. Slim wasn't sure if he was amused or insulted that they didn't feel safe.

Slim pondered it for a moment. That couple was the minority now. Whatever they called themselves, Caucasian, Anglo-Saxons, it didn't even matter anymore. The majority of the descendants of African slaves were white people, oddly enough. That little detail had been a well established but conveniently overlooked fact for fifty years, now. The irony.

The sad part was, in some cities, white folks acted the way black folks acted a hundred years ago - afraid of the other races. But now that white people were the minority in America, they were quick to point it out.

Every minority always seemed to feel entitled to wanting free handouts, and white folks were no different. It's as if they had been waiting for their status to be changed to 'minority,' just so they could demand scholarships and jobs.

With the east coast and a large chunk of southern states ripped away from America in 2025, a devastating amount of white people drowned. Slim pondered the outcome. The flood sure didn't help their numbers. Sure, it was tragic, and now white people had their own Flood Memorial holiday because of it. But there was something empowering about being the majority race in America.

Slim squinted his eyes at the white folks in the sedan. The couple appeared uncomfortable in the car. It pulled away in a hurry. A wry smile found his lips. It was nice to mess with people every now and then.

He crossed the street and continued up the block. A group of guys, not white of course, disbanded upon Slim's approach. Only one remained.

Edward, almost twenty, was a typical urban ghetto rat in public, but Slim knew the boy was a bit different behind closed doors. Ed turned around and offered a cigarette. "W'sup Slim?"

Slim offered a shrug and held his fist out. "Yo. What's better than good, Ed?" He brushed his knuckles against the young man's hand.

"I asked you first."

"Headed out, son. Flyin' out dis bitch t'night."

"Shit, for real? When you comin' back?"

"Nah," said Slim. "Might head to L.A. or some shit. Maybe San Fran, son."

"Get the fuck outta here, nigga; you f'real?"

Slim shrugged. Secretly, he hated that word. He hated the domestication of the word even more. "Yeah, son. Gonna get my shit straight. You should do the same, playa'."

"Nigga, I ain't even old enough to buy booze, smokes or weed. Da'fuck is out there? Fuck west coast. They're a bunch'a bitches."

"Yo," Slim said, "Your pops is from California. And we both know you don't care 'bout age laws. You smoke, you drink, you blaze. I'm just tryin' to get away from that bullshit."

"Man, what muthafuckin' world you from, Slim? And where your colors at?"

Slim smirked. "Fuck the Bloods, the Crips, MS-13; all them punks think they own us. You know, your pops did that shit. He got out. Got his life together."

Edward made a face. "Shit, colors and The Life is all I know; my pops showed me how to hold my first gun, nigga."

Slim frowned. "You need to get out of this shit."

"Nah. Life expectancy for a nigga on'na streets is nineteen. I'm turnin' twenty. I already beat that shit. Shit, I'm due any day now." He passed his cigarette over.

Slim turned down the cigarette and said, "Nah. I quit. That shit cost too much."

Ed smirked. "Shut the fuck up and take it, Slim. Enjoy a goddamn cigarette."

"That shit'll kill ya, son. Think about your future. I'm tryin' to save up some cash, Ed."

Edward took a puff and smirked. "This shit ain't what kills niggas. You need to worry 'bout today. We ain't got no futures. Who cares about savin' money when that shit goes to the government? Or to some bitch in a will...? Fuck all'a that. Smoke this shit, I say. Be happy while it lasts."

Slim shook his head. "Yo, yer pops acted the same way. 'Fast Eddie' they called'em. He lived fast, and was expected ta die just as fast. Guess what, you dummy - Fast Eddie died of a heart attack, not a bullet."

"Slim, you dunno what 'chu talkin' 'bout. My old man died when we was both in Pampers."

"I'm older than you, dumbass."

Ed laughed. "Fuck you, nigga! You ain't _that_much older than me. I can see that by lookin' at ya face."

"I look good for my age," said Slim with a grin. "Look, you need to get out of this bitch," Slim said, gesturing to the rest of the city. "I heard you pissed off T-Bone. You gotta keep yer dick outta drunk women."

Edward threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "Man fuck that nigga. T-Bone ain't gonna do shit. He's a punk. He's a triflin' punk."

"He killed that girl, Ed. You knocked her up. T-Bone's got it out for you. Why not come with me? Y'know, yer pops took a job out west 'n turned his life around. Left the gang shit, got a job at a club, and stopped that goddamn hustlin' shit."

"Man! What the fuck you know about my pops? That nigga been dead since I was a little..."

"Stop using that fuckin' word, Ed. Damn, son. You comin' or not?"

"Fuck T-Bone! I'll whoop his fuckin' ass, Slim. I ain't afraid of no shit he got."

Slim sighed. He shook his head and shrugged. "Offer's on the table. Come out west anytime. I got'chu while you get your shit straight - place to stay. You should get your bullshit together, get some money in the stock market, get a wife and get rid of all this drama you all wrapped up in."

"Man, what the fuck, Slim? You been cool for two months. Now all'a this parent shit? You ain't my pops, nigga. And T-Bone ain't gonna touch me. Yeah, I fucked his bitch. She was all up on my nuts."

"That was the alcohol, you dummy."

Ed took a puff on the cigarette. "So? I still rocked that ass."

Slim turned around. He closed his eyes so that Ed couldn't see his expression. "You ain't right. That chick died, Ed. She was carryin' yer kid. T-Bone killed yer kid. Don't that mean nuffin' to you?" Slim opened his eyes ... a Cadillac with tinted windows was at the intersection. The rear window went down. Slim's heart jumped into his throat. He saw the glint of a metallic weapon in the sunlight. "Fuck!"

Slim pivoted and dove towards Ed. Behind him, small weapon's fire filled the air. He threw his arms around the teenager, bowling Ed down.

The Cadillac peeled out, crossed the intersection and disappeared.

With a grunt, Slim rolled off of Ed and sat up. He looked around, seeing people walking along the street. Nobody took cover. Nobody called the police. A black woman with children ushered her kids off the street, into a boutique.

"Fuck," Ed moaned. "You jinxed me, nigga."

Slim sighed. "I told you that word is..." he turned back to face Ed and saw a pool of blood on the sidewalk. Slim thrust his hands over Edward's shoulder wound. "He was aimin' for your head. You lucky, boy. Now will you come west with me?"

"No, I don't run like no bitch." The nineteen-year-old winced then, in a softer tone, asked, "T-Bone really killed Octavia?"

"Yeah," Slim said, keeping pressure on Ed's shoulder. Slim couldn't help notice that Ed was taking the pain surprisingly well, and assumed the boy was in shock or high on adrenaline. "Shot her in the street last night, right in the gut. Left her to bleed out. She was gonna have your kid, you dumb fuck. You see what kind of trouble your dick gets you in?"

"Fuck you, nigga."

Slim reached up and slapped Ed in the face. "Focus. They'll come around the block and finish you off. C'mon. Get up, we gotta move." Slim guided Ed's free hand up to help add pressure to the shoulder wound, then Soim got the boy on his feet and wiped the blood on Ed's shirt. "I'll get you straight. But you come out west and find me after this shit blows over. I'll show you how to make real money. Fuck this east coast hustlin' shit. You ain't got nuthin' here. I know more about yer pops than you think. You wanna wind up like Octavia? Bleeding out in the street?"

"Nigga don't you bring up her up like that. I was just a dumb drunk nigga that night, and..."

Slim narrowed his gaze at Ed and cut off the boy, saying, "You know that word you like so much? It means ignorant. And that's you right now. Your old man liked that goddamn word, too. Stop that shit. Get your shit together, get out west with me, and get your life straight."

"Can't believe you raised ya' hand at me after I been shot." Ed grunted, trying to look unfazed by the slap. He favored his shoulder with a wince. "You think they'll come back and try again?"

"They could come around the block any second. Move, Ed. Move your ass, boy. And keep pressure on that shoulder. Looks like a twenty-two. You're lucky they didn't take your head off, boy."

X

X

Forty minutes later...

Slim sighed and rubbed his face. He made his way up to the top floor of a deserted building. He picked up a manila folder sitting on a generator and carried it over to a paper shredder then ran it through the top slat, destroying the folder.

He gathered several accouterments - a generic pre-paid cellphone, a set of keys, a small tablet and several other odds and ends. He put everything into a leather bag, walked into a bedroom, and opened a closet door.

Slim pulled off his street clothes and carried them to an adjoining bathroom. He put them in the tub, picked up a small bottle of lighter fluid, sprayed the clothes, struck a match, and dropped it into the tub. The clothes caught ablaze immediately.

Slim went back to the bedroom, wearing boxers, pulled a fancy suit off the closet hanger, and quickly dressed himself. He slid his feet into fancy dress shoes, headed back to the bathroom and laid his suit blazer over a hamper.

He turned on the water to the tub, causing a discolored liquid to come out. After a few moments, it cleared to normal tap water. The remains of the clothes went out. He turned on the shower-head, picked up a razor and foam from the sink, and leaned into the spray then shaved the cornrows from his head. Slim glanced in the bathroom mirror to make sure he didn't miss any spots, then he rinsed his head.

He shaved his face, fixed his tie, put cufflinks into his sleeves, and drew his blazer jacket on. Slim checked the mirror one more time then picked up the lighter fluid and the matches. He doused the apartment in various areas until the lighter fluid bottle was empty.

He struck a match and tossed it into the bedroom, struck another and threw it into the hall. A third went into the kitchenette, and one more match went to the living room. He shouldered his leather bag, glanced around the dwelling where he spent his time in Syracuse, then headed for the door.

By the entrance, he kicked a hole in the wall and withdrew a duffle back filled with money, passports, and various belongings.

Slim walked out of the apartment, made his way down the stairs to a trashy alley with grass and weeds growing up through the pavement. With a sigh, he approached a large boxy object covered with a tarp and trash on top.

Slim used his leather bag to brush the trash off the boxy object, then he pulled the tarp away to reveal a gorgeous pearl white Bentley. Slim opened the door, tossed his bag over to the passenger seat, and slid into the driver's side.

He started the car and drove out of the alley, headed for the airport.

X

X

Paris, France Four hours later...

Slim fidgeted with his watch and pushed an earpiece into his ear. The phone rang almost as soon as he had the earpiece in place. He stepped out of the rental car, closed the door, moved around to the front and then sat down on the hood.

The caller asked, 'Where have you been, Trajen? You were off the grid for quite some time.'

"My third-great grandson was targeted for a gang related execution. I kept him alive. He unfortunately didn't walk away unscathed, but he'll live. I'll be headed back to San Francisco shortly."

'What about the information you gave me? Is it one of your cheap tricks? I want something real, not some illusion.'

"I told you my information is always accurate. Always. I sell reality."

'Fine. Now what?'

"I will be leaving Paris shortly. I have a quick errand to run first. Watch your western skyline. Sixty seconds. Then you'll see my information is always legitimate, and you'll see the price you paid was worth it. Farewell." Trajen ended the call and folded his arms, watching a fairly large house up on the hill.

Seconds later an enormous bolt of lightning reached from the sky and linked up to a large metal spire atop the roof. The bolt held its shape and stayed in place for seven seconds - an eternity for lightning.

Slim glanced at his wristwatch again then smiled. In a soft whisper, he said, "Welcome back to the world of the living, Mr. Nevada. Let's hope you fair better in it than my ilk." He eased back into his rental car, put it into gear, and drove back towards the airport.

He pulled off the road into a residential community - all apartments and condos, just like most everything else in Europe. Trajen parked the car in front of an alley between two buildings, which were fairly close together. He got out of the car and stepped into the alleyway, arms folded across his chest.

A moment later, a girl ran up the alley with a horrified look on her face. She blazed by Trajen.

A man, running after the girl, hurried up the alley then abruptly stopped as though he'd hit an invisible brick wall. He dropped to the ground with a bit of blood on his bottom lip.

The man got to his feet and looked around then shouted, "Where the fuck did this fucking cement wall come from?" in an American west coast dialect. He pivoted on his heel and ran back the way he came and disappeared around the corner.

The girl, who made it as far as Trajen's car, turned around and stopped. Having heard her attacker shout and run back the other way, she approached Trajen while peering down the alley. "Quoi?" she said in astonishment.

Trajen offered a relaxed smile. "The man seems to be confused. And yes, I know you speak English. Your father was an American presidential cabinet member who was killed in Washington DC when you were still in diapers. No use lying, I already know the truth."

She turned to run but stopped, eyes wide, looking up at what appeared to be a large wall. She put her hands out, pressing her palms into the surface. It was cool to the touch.

"I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to help you."

"My mother was just shot dead," said the girl. "I just watched her die!"

"I'm terribly sorry, young lady. I wish I'd arrived sooner but all I can do for you is take you to California. That's where I am supposed to take you. My name is Trajen, and I was sent by someone who knew your father." Slim opened the passenger door for her and gestured for her to get into the car. "I suggest we hurry, though. The man that just killed your mother _will_come around the building. We need to be anywhere but here."

She pursed her lips together, deliberating briefly in silence. She sighed through clenched teeth, slid into the car and pulled the door shut.

Trajen nodded. "Excellent choice." He came around to the driver side, eased into the car and put it into reverse then backed up. He cut the wheel, turned the rental car the other way, put it into gear and pulled out of the lot. "I have an airline ticket for you. We have to lay low in San Francisco for a bit, then I can take you to Chicago."

She looked around, peering back through the rearview window. "I thought I saw a wall back there, but I don't see it now," she said.

"Young lady, I assure you that you're mistaken. So, what should I call you? Christina? Chris?"

"Christine. What did you say your name was again?"

"Trajen. This is all very complicated, so let me simplify things for you and tell you how this is going to work. I'm going to stop the car at the edge of the parking lot. I'm going to get out, and I'm going to stop that man from pursuing us. Then I'm going to take you to the airport. Our flight leaves in three hours. Our layover is in Knoxville, Tennessee. We'll be there for forty minutes, then we will continue to San Francisco. You'll stay in a studio apartment and maintain a low online presence for a while. No Social Media, or anything of that nature, please."

"I ... okay. Thank you for stopping that man. I..." she swallowed then pinched her lips together and closed her eyes. "My mother didn't deserve that."

"I agree. I apologize. The police will be notified as soon as I put this man down." Trajen stopped the car at the edge of the parking lot. "Excuse me, please." He stepped out of the car, walked around behind it and took off his sport blazer. He laid it across the trunk then removed his cufflinks and pocketed them. With meticulous care, he rolled up his sleeves, matching on each side, and folded his arms in wait.

A man sprinted across the parking lot. He approached Trajen and exclaimed, "There was a girl, which way did she go?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't lie!" The man walked to the passenger side of the car and peered in, but all he saw was an empty seat where the girl was sitting. He walked back to Trajen and said, "I know you have her, or you saw her. Open the trunk."

Trajen opened the trunk and showed him that it was empty, save for an ice scraper with the rental car brand name on the handle. "See?"

"Where the fuck did she go?!" the man exclaimed.

"You appear to have a bit of blood right here." Trajen reached his hand forward and touched the man's lower left torso. "It looks quite serious."

The man looked down and saw a knife blade in Trajen's hand. He saw blood spreading in his shirt, saturating it. Excruciating pain took hold and the man sank to his knees in the lot. "You ... you stabbed ... me? Who are you?" He dropped to the ground with shallow breathing.

"Did I? And you can call me Slim." Trajen walked around to the driver's side, slid into the car and pulled off the lot.

Christine, wide-eyed, swallowed and said, "He looked right at me and then walked away. How the hell did he not see me?"

Trajen handed her an iPod full of music, Bluetooth tethered to the car radio. "Must have been the angle where he was standing. I guess he saw a glare in the window. And before you ask, no I didn't kill him or injure him. I struck him in a pressure point and down he went, breathless. He even thought I stabbed him but I carry no weapons, young lady."

"Thank you for helping me. I'm not really in the mood for music. Will the cops find him?"

Seconds later, police cars raced by the rental and turned into the parking lot from which they'd come.

Trajen offered a wan smile. "Does that answer your question?"

"I ... that was..."

"Close. It was a close call. Well, young lady, they will find the murder weapon on him, and link it to the body of your mother. Again, you have my deepest sympathies. We can call the police when we arrive at our layover in Tennessee. Tell them you're safe and you fled, and that you'll stop at the embassy in California to give a statement if necessary. Tell them you fled for your life. That sort of thing."

"I ... okay."

"Very good." Trajen drove back to the main road and headed for the airport with a smile. "You're doing great. I know you're still in shock, but you're doing really good. I promise nothing will happen to you, Christine."

"Merci beaucoup." She looked down, adding, "Thank you, Mr. Trajen."

"You're very welcome, Ms. Christine. Now, relax for a bit. You've just undergone a great deal of emotional duress. The fact that you're holding it together this well is extremely impressive. Not many people have this level of emotional fortitude."

"Tell me why," she said in a soft voice, fighting back tears.

Trajen switched lanes and relaxed his posture at the wheel. "Your father had a classified file about people of interest. He was killed because of this - not because he had the file but because he knew too much. That file fell into your hand on the twenty-fifty anniversary of his death. That got out. Today the operation went into effect to kill his family members and find the drive with that file. In a cliché twist, by chasing you down, it will create interest in what's on the drive. Am I right?"

She withdrew her wallet and thumbed out a USB drive in the flap behind her ID and credit cards. "It's encrypted. Nobody knows what's on it. It prompts you with this little box with something about "TrueCrypt" and it asks for a password."

Trajen shrugged. "Sounds familiar but I can't be sure if I've heard of that. I'll look up information on it when we get to the airport. Keep that drive on you."

"I won't lose it." Christine frowned and changed her tone in an abrupt manner. "So my mother was killed for what might be on this?"

"Whoever killed your mother may not care what's on the drive. They may wish only to destroy the drive to keep anyone else from accessing the files."

"What's the big deal about them? The files I mean."

Trajen maintained his relaxed disposition in the driver's seat. "Mm, your father thought he was working on an American Government sponsored program to give people special powers."

"What, like a comic book soldier?" She asked, brows arched in confusion.

"Possibly so. He downloaded files to a large capacity flash drive, and encrypted those files. Then he gave the drive to someone he trusts, with the explicit instructions to deliver them to his next of kin should he die. Which he did. The truth is, the files weren't about super soldiers or genetically created people with supernatural abilities. The files were in regards to people who already have abilities and are born that way and keep it a secret."

"What? You asshole, my mother was just killed. Don't come at me with stupid jokes about..."

Trajen lifted a hand from the wheel, gesturing her to silence. "It's not a joke." He brought his hand down, palm up, and said, "What if I told you I could create fire?"

A small ball of flame appeared above his palm. She could feel the heat from it. Her pupils constricted.

"That has to be some sort of..."

"Not convinced?" asked Trajen. "No worries. I can make it rain." And all at once rain began to fall from the sky. It muddled the view of the windshield. He turned on the wipers, which scraped across the windshield with a whiney screech of protest. "I can make it stop."

The rain stopped. Excess water streaked across the side windows. "Ms. Christine, I can make you bleed, and then I can heal you just as easily." He reached over and touched behind her fingers.

She hissed in pain and ground her teeth together. Blood beaded up on the top of her hand, behind her middle knuckle. "Mon Dieu!"

"You've been in France too long, young lady." Trajen brushed her second hand away and ran his fingertips across her injury. The blood disappeared, the wound was gone, and the pain ceased. "I can do anything. I am one of the people your father was trying to learn about."

"Why are you helping me and how do you do all that stuff?"

"I don't claim to understand the science behind my abilities. But I'm helping you because information is my passion. You have stolen files that were so well protected, even Edward Snowden never found them."

"Who?"

Trajen shook his head with a wan smile. "I see American History wasn't your strongest subject. No matter. Snowden happened about a decade before you were born. Anyhow, I came to help you to find out what's on that drive."

She fished it back out and threw it into a cup holder. "You can have it. I can't even do anything with that crap."

Trajen glanced down at the drive in the cup holder then looked back up at the road. "Do you know how hard it is to find a rental car company that still rents manual-drive cars?"

"Excuse me?"

"You see, Ms. Christine, I like doing things myself. I will find a way to decrypt it, by talking to someone who knows the difference between hash code and decryption algorithms. When I am finished copying the files, I will return the drive."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"I'm in the information business, young lady," Trajen explained with a confident smile. "The more I know about everything and anything, the more valuable I am. And not knowing what is on that drive was bothering my OCD, you see. Now I have it. I'm very happy."

"So, now what? You've got what you wanted - are you going to kill me?"

"If that was my goal, I'd have taken the drive without your knowledge and left you to the fate of those who attacked you and your mother today."

"It was you who made that wall back at the apartment," she deduced aloud. "You could have done some sort of projection..." She trailed off and their eyes met. "Which ... wouldn't explain the fire, the rain, or the pain in my hand a moment ago."

"Exactly," Trajen replied in a soft tone. "You're not the only reason I was in France. I consort with prophets and deities." He saw her expression and smirked in return. "No, I'm not joking. I don't joke, Ms. Christine. I sold information to a buyer who wanted to know if a divine power was going to create a lightning storm today. I came to see the show, call my buyer and confirm their satisfaction. Then I came to help you. The prophet told me where to be and when."

"This is too much. I just ... my mother just died."

He offered her a nod and a frown. "Yes, she did. My condolences. But now you know there is a meaning to what has happened to your family."

"So many others lose family and are left wondering why."

Trajen nodded. "True. But you get to have closure."

"Closure?" She exclaimed.

"Yes, young lady. You can find meaning in what happened and put rhyme to reason. Your father had friends in Government circles. I will find someone who will give you a place to belong in Chicago. In the mean time, we will stay in San Francisco until I look up information about the people your father knew."

She looked out the window, noticing all the rain spots had already disappeared from the glass. "Fine. Still, my father was murdered when I was a child, and I grew up without him. And now my mother is gone. This is not something that 'rhyme and reason' will help me overcome, okay? Jesus."

"Mm, my apologies. I didn't mean to make light of your loss. Please understand I meant no disrespect." Trajen retrieved the flash drive from the cup holder and put it into a pocket inside of his blazer.

"I can't travel. I don't have my passport. It's back in my apartment."

Trajen smiled, knowing enough about her that the passport wasn't going to be problematic. "Thankfully you have an Enhanced Driver's License with land, sea, and air status."

"Yeah..."

"May I see it?"

Christine sighed and fished out her driver's license. She passed it to him then looked back out the window.

Trajen opened the glove compartment and withdrew another one of the ice scrapers with the car rental agency brand name on the handle. He placed her license on the dashboard then used the handle of the ice scraper to smash her license.

She jumped, startled, and looked at him with confusion in her gaze. "What the hell was that about?"

"There is an RFID chip in passports and enhanced driver's licenses. I disabled it. It makes it difficult to track. Not impossible to track, mind you, but it makes things harder for anyone who might be flagging you. You know, years ago you couldn't use these to fly, but now you can. Lucky us."

"What if I'm asked why it doesn't work or whatever?"

Trajen handed the card back to her. "Whoops, it must have been broken in your purse somehow. Say you're sorry and move on. It slows the process but you can still travel." He put the ice scraper back into the glove compartment. "There's another one of these in the trunk. Not quite sure why I would need so many ice scrapers." He paused and looked her over. "Are you going to be okay?"

"No. I just watched my mother die. Are you an idiot?"

"I've lost touch with my emotions to some degree. I've been around for a while."

"Well, learn how to empathize. I just saw my mother killed!"

Trajen frowned. "I mean no disrespect towards what you've experienced. But please, try and understand, I've watched my children grow old and die, their children, their children's children, and so forth. My third great grandson was shot just a bit ago. He's lucky to have survived. It happened right in front of me. None of my ilk was blessed with abilities. All of them age normally."

She held her hands up and looked back out the window. "I'm not in the right frame of mind to process any of what you're telling me. Do you understand that?"

"I do. I appreciate your bluntness. It helps."

"Yeah." She sighed and closed her eyes. Tears slipped down her face. "How about some silence for a while?"

"Very well," said Trajen. "We'll be to the airport shortly. Take all the time you require, young lady."

"Yeah."

Trajen couldn't help but wonder how Reno Nevada was doing, freshly awake after twenty-five years. He couldn't help but wonder if Nevada was going to need help to survive in the new world...

X

X

Chapter -1-

Awakening

Friday, July 28, 2049 - Morning Paris, France ...

Reno looked up from the mug of hot tea."Not bad. What kind is this?"

Karla Loupe shrugged. The green-eyed blond crossed her kitchen. She used one hand to reach up into a cupboard, and her other hand to hold the hem of her skirt down in the back. She looked like a teenaged girl but carried herself like a mother of two with an education.

Karla turned back towards Reno Nevada and glanced at the box. "Gourmet's best. In other words, it's the cheap stuff."

"Not bad for cheap stuff." It was Reno's first day awake in almost five months. And his first day seeing the future after twenty-five years of cryogenic stasis. And, so far, the future was a disappointment.

Karla was a succubus who domesticated herself for the sake of motherhood. And now she was a widow, with two missing children. Small talk was all she had to offer her friend. She offered a wan smile, glad for his company. "It has, uh," she trailed off, looking at the package, "Ganoderma extract."

"The hell is that?"

Karla shrugged again. "I think it's from wood mold or something, heh. Yummy."

"Uh, alright." Reno rubbed his sore shoulders. He couldn't even figure out the word she said, but the tea tasted pretty good. "So, is that stuff like Ginkgo or Ginseng or whatever?"

Again, the Karla rolled her shoulders up then afforded him a weak smile. "Yeah, I guess. This stuff started getting popular in the mid-2020s. Health nuts love it."

Reno folded his hands on the table. He'd been awake for a full day and was more upset about the fact _Juicy Fruit_wasn't available at the local market than he was about finding out flying cars weren't mainstream. Everything else that bothered him was pushed to the figurative back burner for the moment. "Can't help but notice there are no fat people anymore. That's a little weird. What kind of future are we living in, where you can't stuff your face on junk food?"

The succubus replied with raspberries, somewhat like a horse. "Once the food industry figured out how to market 'skinny' they put all this health stuff into everything." She sat the box of tea packets on the table.

"Why?" He picked up the box then added, "When the hell did the world switch from calories to 'KiloJoules?' Damn a lot changed." His eyes lifted back to Karla. "Sorry, what was I saying? Oh, right, so why is the food industry putting all that stuff into food now?"

Again, the succubus offered another shrug. "I guess they did it to make everyone skinny."

"That's different." Reno furrowed his brows. "You're telling me I'm in fashion right now?" Nevada looked down at his thin wrists. "How long was I asleep?"

"You've been comatose since the beginning of March."

"Christ, Karla, I'm a goddamn toothpick. I need some good ole fashion pastries and some steak."

"The world has changed, babe." Karla rummaged through the kitchen and pulled out a box of health-bars. "It's chewy like granola."

"Neat..."

She afforded him with a wan smile. "Yeah. It's become common knowledge you don't eat concentrated juice drinks, margarine, transfat foods, whole wheat bread, processed soy, genetically modified corn products, high fructose syrups of any kind - corn, wheat, or whatever else. No MSG. No artificial sweeteners. All that stuff is banned in a lot of countries, now." She handed the box to Reno. "This'll make you feel full."

"I don't want to feel full, I want to bulk up a little bit. I don't want to be a skinny dweeb like Vincent. How long was I in a coma? I'm, like, a buck-twenty-five now. I ache after walking around the house."

Karla sighed and dropped onto a chair across from him at the kitchen table. "This has to be difficult for you." She reached across the table and placed her hands upon his. "Vincent is older than you are, now. He has kids. One of those little brats was supposed to watch you, but he bailed. The little shit."

"This has to be hard for you, too. Thanks for taking care of me for all those months."

"You're not the first coma-boy I've helped to recover. And you're not the first diaper I've changed, Top Cop."

Reno cringed at the thought of wearing diapers and being changed. He changed the topic back to something safer - his little brother, Vincent. "Kids huh? With Topaz?"

"And Fox," said Karla. "They were in some sorta three-way marriage."

"Christ I ache."

Karla smirked. "You ache because we were using these little vibrating motor things to stimulate your muscles, Reno. Muscle atrophy is no joke. Truth is, you haven't used your body in any certain way for a while, so you're _going_to ache. Man up and work out. I have a gym here. Eric kept in shape. He didn't like being told he looked like a forty-year-old married to a fifteen-year-old."

"A gym, huh? How is the equipment?"

"It's all good stuff. I wanted Topaz's son to feel comfortable while staying here."

"What're the kids' names?" he asked, trying to absorb it all without thinking too much about the awkwardness.

"Carmen and Conner. They're good kids but they're both missing. Carmen might have been captured by Aris-freaking-Falcon. And Conner comes and goes as he pleases. Nobody can parent him. It's a mess. The kid lives to work out, practice his ability, and drink these disgusting mitochondrial protein uptake shakes. He says it makes him faster, smarter, helps for enhanced senses and response times, and nonsensical stuff."

"Weird. They sell all sorts of stuff at the store now, huh?"

The succubus rubbed her face then she gave a firm tug at the hem of her blouse to free it from wrinkles. "That stuff isn't something you can get at the store. It's stuff that comes from being the richest little boy in the world. And he is serious about being the best. He's putting stuff in his body that I've never heard of. It does all sorts of weird things ... 'neural regeneration', and whatever else. He believes it makes him the best. Maybe he has a big imagination. Then again, he takes the 'supernatural agility' thing to the next level. He's really impressive."

"How old is this kid?" asked Reno. He took her hands again and gave a firm squeeze.

"Fifteen. He's going through that _know-it-all_phase. It makes me want to slap him upside the head. However, we're going to need his help."

"What?" Reno exclaimed. "Karla, we don't need some kid who wants to blaze his own trail." Nevada leaned back in his chair, drew his hands from hers, and folded his arms. "Listen, chicky-boo, if we're going to rescue everyone from that underwater city, we need to make our own kickass team. We don't need kids."

"His ego and his temper stem from his confidence. He's already broken Fox and Topaz' records in various Parker family trials. He's training James Parker, who is twenty-six. Let that settle in, Reno. He's a fifteen year old boy training a twenty-six year old man."

"Okay, wait, James is the son of Jon and Fara, right? So that makes him ... Nicky's nephew?" He looked down, mentioning his fiancée's name. "Nicky," he whispered under his breath.

"I guess." Karla shrugged with a weak smile. "I don't follow the Parker family tree, or their drama. At least not right now. I've got my own problems. I'm sorry about your fiancée, though."

Reno's expression turned sour. "God. Nicky Parker. I can't even ... let me change the subject away from that because my head is still swimming from ... Christ, anyway."

Karla frowned. "You mentioned something last night about how she was..."

"Karla, please, I can't. Not right now," he said with a frown. "So, you've not told me very much about what's going on. We don't have flying cars, but self-driving cars are apparently a lot better than they were twenty-five years ago. So what else did I sleep through? And, damn, I just realized I've been rude as hell."

"How so?"

"I haven't asked much about you. Last I saw you, you were pregnant. Right?"

Karla flinched and looked away. "You know what I loved about Eric Loupe? His hands. He had commercial advertising hands. He should've been a hand model or something."

"Karla, focus."

"I can't."

"Did something happen to Eric? I see pictures that kind of look like him around the house. And kids. A boy and a girl."

"Yeah," Karla sighed. "Elvena. My daughter went to America and did exactly what her father hated the most - she worked for the American Government. And my youngest..." Karla swallowed down a stew of emotion in her chest. "I'm told Donnie was abducted by Falcon. He's only six. He's my little boy. And that motherfucker has him. And Eric is dead. Falcon reactivated my husband's stupid goddamn mind-conditioning shit. That asshole, Falcon, told my husband to put a gun in his mouth ... to finish what he'd failed to do twenty-five years ago."

Reno swallowed. "Holy hell. Karla, I am so sorry. Just when I thought I had it bad with Nichole betraying me, you've completely lost everything you've spent the last twenty-five years building."

She didn't reply.

Reno gave her hands a squeeze again. "I am such a dick. I'm really sorry. We'll get through all of this together. We'll find Falcon, we'll get revenge and we will find your kids. I swear to God, Karla, we're getting your family back. I promise."

"I'm still numb. Elvena hated me and her father because she was normal. She felt that supernatural people are drama, which is true; we are."

"Karla, we'll find your son. We'll make sure your daughter is safe."

"But Eric is still dead, Reno. It hasn't all ... you know ... it hasn't really hit me yet. It's still settling in and I have a lot of time to think. I've become a victim of my own mind."

"I really am sorry. I promise, I'm here for you."

"Yeah," Karla murmured. "Our team is gone, Reno. What a shame we all became such fragile broken things."

This time Reno stayed quiet.

Karla gave his hands a squeeze. "Anyway, I'm glad you're awake, Top Cop, because having someone to talk to ... well, it's a good distraction."

"Karla, I promise we're going to get that son of a bitch. So is it just you and I? What happened to everyone else?"

"Reno, I'm trying to figure that out. Rufus Darken and Kalen Kincade are out there somewhere. Conner and James Parker are in the wind, 'training.' God knows, though. I heard something the other day and then nothing. For all I know, they were captured."

"What about Sinopa?"

Karla shrugged. "Sinopa is taking an emotional sabbatical. Her, uh, husband ... you remember Jules Guillot? He was shot dead. She saw his body minutes after he was executed, Reno. Sinopa has changed. It's had a very big impact on her. I rarely see her smile. Topaz and Fox Parker went to look for their daughter and disappeared. It's safe to assume Falcon captured them, too. Noby has heard from them since March."

"Christ."

"Yeah." She sighed. "Thank God you woke up. I was at my wits end with this damn loneliness."

Nevada fidgeted, trailing his thumb along her hand momentarily. "You think my coming back will be noticed?"

"I set up an alias for you. Lance Patterson helped. You remember him? The immortal mathematician?"

"Yeah. You used to call him 'Methos' or something, right?"

"Yes, hon. Exactly." Karla offered a weak smile. "I set up a fake history for you with his help. Legally, your name is Nathanial Carrington. I spelled it the way the old man spelled it. It's one hell of a name. Honor it ... you got me? You have his power, and you saw him at his death. You remember? Sausalito?"

"Right, right. I remember. I'll do my best to honor his memory, okay? I know the man was important to you."

"You have no idea. He saved me from myself, Reno."

"How so?"

Karla rubbed her face and reached for Reno's tea. She took a sip from it then put the mug back in front of him. "A few years ago, scientists mapped out everything that makes us who we are. They determined there is no 'gay gene.' Sourprise. It boils down to the fact that some people have a gender preference, some don't. There is no broken gene for that sort of thing. Those who have a preference either want women or men. Those who don't ... have no preference. Or maybe they prefer hearts over parts. Whichever."

"I don't follow, Karla. What are you going on about?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I realized I did all those bad things in my youth because I liked doing them, not because I was born that way."

"Some people are born gay."

"And some people are born straight. But there's no 'gay gene,' and there's no straight gene. You're just born with a preference, or you're bi, I suppose. And I wasn't born an evil demon."

Reno ran his hands up through his recently regrown hair, glad it was there again. "You want to explain that to me, sex demon?"

"That's just it," she said. "I had to square up with the fact that I'm not a demon. I was just a bitch who liked being evil. I did all those bad things, Reno, and it turns out I'm just demonic in nature; not an actual demon."

"So you're not a succubus?"

"No, babe. I am a succubus. But being a succubus just means I need sex to stay ageless. I have nothing to do with, say,Hell."

He placed his palms on the either side of the warm mug again. "So being a succubus doesn't have the same meaning society thought it meant back in the middle ages, huh?"

Karla replied with a half-hearted shrug. "I guess it bugs me that science can explain my existence. After a little over three hundred years of believing that I was a certain way by design, I spent a hundred and twenty years of believing that I overcame something bad to become something good. It made me feel special. Then I found out my life was a lie. And I struggled with that but I had Eric and my children to distract me for the past twenty-five years."

"Jesus, Karla. I was a cop until I was fired"

"It's not the same thing, Reno. I believed for centuries that I could explain my childish actions. I took comfort in that. Then I found out I'm not some mythological demon from hell. I'm just a bitch who didn't have any morals until Nathan Carrington found me in December of 1906. It took him a while, but he showed me that I could be more. He always believed I was capable of being more than a ... bitch. He showed me my potential. He helped me discover a repressed side of myself. He showed me I wasn't just some monster. I owed that man everything."

"How'd that happen? I mean, Jesus, 1906? That's a long time ago."

Karla nodded in agreement. "Yeah. It happened because Nathan gave a damn. I mocked God and Heaven. I believed I was from Hell and that I was going to fuck or kill everything that got in my way."

"Go on."

"You know what Disney never told us about their evil queens and their pretty princesses? The 'evil queen' was actually the princesses that were never rescued. They made all the wrong choices. And that's what I did for three centuries, Reno. I made wrong choices. And now I wonder if Nathan rescued me a little too late. That ... that is what I find myself thinking about now that I have all this time to think."

"Oh." He took a sip from the mug of tea then offered it back to her.

She took a sip and pushed it back towards him.

Reno looked at the table for a moment then shrugged. "I've never seen you do anything 'evil'. I've seen you make bad choices but nothing inhuman. And certainly nothing demonic. You're not a monster; I respect you, Karla."

"Yeah..."

He frowned and folded his arms. "I _promise_we will get your kids back and we will get revenge on Falcon for what he did to Eric and Nichole and everyone else that son of a bitch ever hurt." He trailed off, paused, then said, "So how did Nathan help you get your head out of your ass?" Reno offered a wan smile.

"Nathan convinced me I was more than my rage and my sexuality. More than the sum of my body parts. He taught me how to connect with my humanity."

"How?"

She afforded him a wan smile of remembrance. "He gave me self respect."

Reno grew quiet and thought about her answer but had no reply to offer. Instead, he changed the subject. "How does science supposedly explain your existence?"

The succubus sighed and glared at the table between them. "When I met Falcon in 2024, that cocksucker told me I wasn't a demon - demon's aren't real. He told me my lineage found a way to stay alive for long periods of time by absorbing something found in bodily fluids."

"Not sure I follow, Karla. Why would you give a shit about what that man has to say?"

"Methos confirmed what I learned. "

"Methos," Reno said with a snort of amusement. "Who even has that as a name? Wasn't that the world's oldest immortal character in the Highlander series?"

"Yeah, Reno. Now you need to focus. So, basically, my ancestors were stripped of their immortality by a governing body of the First Age. It was meant to be some kind of punishment. So, my forefathers tried to get the genetic modification reversed, but it didn't work the way it was supposed to. Our bodies still lacked something to achieve full immortality."

"Okay, wait, so the first sex demons were people who had their immortality revoked by genetic engineering? As a punishment? And they tried having someone fix the modification but the patch, so to speak, wasn't perfect? Am I following this right?"

"Yes, exactly," she said, adding, "and the DNA couldn't be fully repaired because the technology was lost when The First Age society collapsed. So the first of my kind began to crave whatever it was that their bodies still lacked, which was found in sexual secretions."

"I see," Reno said with a firm nod. "So long as these people had sex in excess, the missing element helped to keep your kind ageless."

"Exactly, babe. We lived longer than normal humans, and we never aged, but ... we did still have an expiration date. All succubae and incubi eventually die. But they look young until they go. Some live longer than others."

"Damn."

"Vampires went through the same shit. The oldest of their kind were stripped of their immortality and cast out. They found a fix, but it wasn't perfect. They began to crave something in blood, which, surprise, actually keeps them alive forever. Lucky them. Vampires actually don't have an expiration date, but they're largely un-alive. That's way worse so far as I am concerned."

"This is hard to follow, Karla. So you learned all this stuff from Falcon?"

"Mm, yes. I was a bit shocked and, initially, I ignored what I was told. But Methos confirmed it. And this information ... it settled in and nested. I'm not an evil mythological creature from Hell. I'm a bitchy descendant from a penal colony."

"And now you have a lot of time to think about things, huh?"

She nodded in reply. "Exactly. It's pretty demoralizing."

"One thing I don't understand..."

"Yeah?"

"How come you are immortal? If your kind has an expiration date, why don't you?"

"My father is immortal, too. And I have so many damn questions for him. Apparently his mother or father was an immortal like Lance and Steven. Or, as I still like calling them, 'Methos and Isaac.' Anyway."

"So what's all that stuff mean, Karla?"

"Well, for starters, it means I've got a legitimate immortal bloodline in my immediate ancestry."

"Ah, I see. Sorry for all the questions. I was a detective, you know? Some habits are hard to break. I've always wanted to find out all the answers, so to speak. So. You're immortal. And you've got a grudge. If I were Falcon, I'd be worried."

"Yeah," she said with a sigh. "But I failed as a mother and as a wife. So here's my question: what do I amount to, Reno? I'm just a mean, horny bitch from a long line of people who had a genetic predisposition to being troublemakers and wound up punished from true immortality because we didn't deserve it."

"An immortal person believed in your immediate family line. You just said so."

Karla gave a weak smile.

Reno reached around his tea mug and took her hands into his own. "Falcon took your children, and murdered your husband. Are you angry? You should be angry about that."

"Of course I'm angry, but I'm also depressed!"

"You need to take that anger and use it, Karla. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, right? So get it together. You need to get with Sinopa. The two of you need to go after this guy. He's evil. Not you. He has Nichole and she's still alive."

"Sinopa needed some alone time, and she's getting our game plan together. But it's been emotionally difficult for both of us. We've spent the last few days taking a bit of a break."

"Did you hear me? I said Nichole is still alive. Your kids might be, too. We need to get down there before..."

"Reno, I heard you. They're frozen, though, like everyone else."

"No, Karla. Nichole was awake and helping Falcon. He did something to her head."

"Wait, wait what?" Karla narrowed her gaze a bit. "Is that why you acted weird when you mentioned her name a few minutes ago? Is that what you meant when you said she betrayed you?"

"Yeah." Reno's eyes dropped to the tea. "Yeah, that's the reason. And I don't know what he did to her. She used to fight junkies as a DEA agent. But now he's turned her into a junkie."

Karla's eyes widened.

Reno tightened his jaw for a moment and then continued. "She's obsessed with getting new powers. As many as possible. Nichole attacked me to try and get mine."

Reaching for an explanation, any explanation, Karla asked, "What if she's some sort of doppelgänger and..."

Nevada glared at the table in disgust. "She wasn't herself, but she taunted me with things only Nichole would know."

"Holy shit, Reno."

He sighed, still staring at the hot tea and table it sat on. "Nicky isn't the same girl I proposed to back in 2022. Falcon twisted her. He made her insane. Evil."

"Evil? Now you just sound cliché."

Nevada frowned. "No, it's an accurate word, Karla. She's not the same girl. She attacked me and I refused to defend myself against her. That's the last memory I have before waking up here. It's still fresh. For me, that happened day before yesterday. He fucked up her head; she betrayed me."

"Oh my God, Reno, I had no idea."

"Yeah. He's gone too far, Karla. He's taken so much from all of us. We have to do something about this bullshit. Falcon thinks he's some misunderstood scientist trying to save the world. But the reality is, he's a manipulative piece of shit. He took all our friends and family from us. So let's get our asses together, figure out a game plan, then go down there and rip his balls off."

A tired smile formed at the corner of Karla's lips. "It's good to have you home, Top Cop."

"Home? I thought you said we're in France."

"We are," she said, adding, "Remember? Topaz bought me this house for Christmas in 2023, babe. I've raised my family here, Reno. This is home for me. And it's been home to you for a while now."

"Huh. Well then." He ran his fingers back through his short, dark bangs, pushing them back. "So let's get back to America. Let's assemble a team. Let's find my car. Watson said he put it into storage for me because I left it in Florida after helping to save that Middle School in Jacksonville."

"Florida," she whispered with a sigh. "Falcon attacked America, Reno. It's very different from how you remember it."

"Wait, what? He attacked America?"

"Florida is gone. Well, most of it. Some of it got pushed upwards - Daytona Beach is now called Saint Augustine Mountain. But ... a lot of the state is beneath the Atlantic Ocean."

"Holy Christ. Falcon attacked America? Why the hell didn't the Government find him and nuke the hell out of that stupid bastard and his stupid underwater city?"

Karla sneered. "That cunt somehow made it seem like a natural disaster." A pause, then, "Most of those in Falcon's circle don't blame him for it, but I'm absolutely sure he's the one to blame," she explained with a frown.

"So what the hell happened, exactly?"

The succubus rolled her shoulders upwards then slumped a bit. "There was an earthquake in 2025 ... It was bad, babe."

"Falcon caused a quake?"

Karla nodded with a sullen expression. "It was the quake felt 'round the world, babe. It was really strong, and it lasted and lasted and lasted. This quake killed tens of millions in the United States alone. It affected everyone. The whole world was thrown into chaos, Reno. Tsunamis leveled both sides of the Atlantic. The world economy was non-existent for two months. It took a year just for the world-wide shock to wear off."

"Bullshit," Reno muttered.

"It was tragic, babe. The east coast of America was shaken to its foundations. By the time the quake finally stopped, and after the tsunamis, and after the surge waters receded, the entire east coast of America had been literally ripped away from the country."

"What the hell happened to it?"

Karla frowned, picking at her blouse. "It was dragged out to sea. The separation happened along the foothills of the eastern borders of the Appalachian Mountain range."

Reno swallowed. The look on his face said it all - it was a lot to take in at once. "So that mountain range is the new coastline of the continental United States, then?"

Karla nodded, saddened by the sullen tone in his voice. The succubus rubbed her face briefly. "Yeah, hon. Maine ripped off while passing Greenland, and is now part of that area. Most of southern Greenland began to thaw and the climate as all messed up because the natural jet stream is different now that the ocean is different."

"Falcon fucked up the whole planet, and our lives. So that settles it. I'm going after him. Get your head together, I'm going to need your help. What's left of the old east coast? New York City? Washington DC?"

The succubus' soft green eyes dropped again. "Well, part of Vermont is connected to Iceland by a bridge, now. All the way down to Florida, the old east coast is now called Washington DC. Only, DC has a different meaning. It stands for 'District Coast.' And it's not pretty."

"I can't even imagine."

She nodded in agreement. "You wouldn't want to imagine, babe. Millions drowned, Reno. Nuclear power plants all up and down the coast suffered meltdowns."

"I can't believe I slept through this bullshit." Reno rubbed his face then pinched the bridge of his nose the way he'd seen so many of his friends do in the past. "How do we know Falcon managed to do all that stuff?"

"Your brother, babe. He's still our inside guy. He said Falcon found something beneath the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. Whatever it is that Dr. Asshole found, that's what caused a section of the American landmass to rip away from the continent. Apparently, what used to be Richmond, Virginia somehow lines up with this city buried in the Earth's crust, below the ocean. It's all messed up."

"That bastard still has Nichole. I have to believe I can somehow save her. Falcon took our families and caused millions to die. We have to try again, Karla. Before more people die."

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "All this happened because we screwed up last time. But I don't disagree with you. I mean ... to be clear, babe, I don't _care_if more people die. I did my best. I can't fix the whole world - I just want my kids back."

"Karla, do you hear yourself?" Reno said, hands returning to the warm tea mug. "We fucked up, girl. We didn't kill Falcon in 2024. If we had, your family would be fine. Nobody would have died. It's our fault. Let's kill that prick before more die."

She folded her arms beneath the swell of her bust. "Ever since my daughter disappeared I've been searching for a way to get back down there. But that underwater dome is somehow burrowed into the bedrock beneath the Atlantic Ocean. Only your brother knows where it is. I don't have a way to contact him. Besides, there aren't many of us left to fight that asshole."

Reno stared down at his tea for a moment, and then drank it. He put the empty mug on the table, frowned, and said, "Karla, we find more people. Like Evan says, we're superheroes. We gotta get our asses in gear, get our heads together, and stop Doctor Dickhead."

"Evan is gone, Reno! He believed in good triumphing over evil, and look where that mentality got him? We're not_superheroes, babe. It's _illegal to be supernatural. People who exhibit unnatural abilities are rounded up and put to death as 'esoteric terrorists.' Europe and America's dirty little secret - if you use your abilities in public, the national governments will come for you. If you don't age, you wind up investigated. Do you understand?"

Reno frowned. "Then we'll have to be discrete."

She sighed with a slow nod. "Yeah. No use rushing into things. Let's take our time and plan it out the right way."

Reno sighed. "God, why does it feel like we're so far from winning this thing?"

Karla threw her hands up in the air. "Reno! Are you serious? What is there to win? We already lost."

He ground his molars together in frustration. "Then what can we do? We need to get justice. God damn."

The succubus frowned thoughtfully and said, "All we can do now is get revenge. And that's the sort of thing that needs to be carefully planned."

"I'm not getting any younger. When do we start?"

Karla exhaled through her nose, amused by his tenacity. "Tomorrow."

"Why not now?"

She stood up, pushed her chair in, and frowned. "Because right now, I need a nap." She clenched her left fist and then vanished, teleporting up to her bedroom.

She looked at a photograph on her night stand of her adult daughter holding a toddler. Karla's two missing children.

Depression made it too easy to want to lie down and escape from the world for a little while. She dropped onto the mattress, closed her eyes and cried herself to sleep.

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