Transcription on.

>t jon
Please select one:


(1)>"Thanks for coming, Johnny."
(2)>"It doesn't get any easier, does it?"


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
2


He looks confused for a second by my non-sequitur. Then he kind of realizes what I'm talking about or at least pretends to. "No, man... no, it doesn't. I
can't believe she's gone."

I don't really have anything to say to that. I can't believe it either. Sometimes I have a sarcastic streak. But I do my best to not throw it towards
Hollywood.

"Honestly," I tell him, "I was prepared that maybe one day she'd be killed in a fight. I thought that some deranged, cape-and-goatee-laden freak would
be too savage for her, too creatively evil. She... she wasn't real good at predicting the sheer capacity these twisted scum have for evil. Something. But
I never expected her to be killed in the street by, apparently, some regular nutcramp with a gun. Take a look, Johnny. Even this cemetery is a mess.
Most of these markers have been tagged. Those that aren't are crumbling well before their time, being used for target practice. Hell, even that water
tower up there has graffiti all about it. Even when they kill each other they can't stop telling the corpses how they were 'owned' and that they should
'ph33r' them..."

Ameba comes up to me and offers his condolences. He migrates back away from the coffin.


>g
Please select one:


(1)>"Thanks for coming, Johnny."
(2)>"To be honest... I just want to get to work on solving this."
(3)>"Appreciated. But I just want to be alone."


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
2


"Look, I'm with you, man," says Johnny. "You know that bar we were talking about before? The one where the ravers and technogeeks hang out? I'm
up for it. Let's check it out. It's on the other side of the tunnel in Jersey, but I was there last night and a bunch of masks always go in there. I heard some
of them chuckling up their sleeves about Red Cloud and I think that some of 'em knew something. We should take a trip down there, I think you'd be
able to get some answers out of them."

The rain has started to come down a little harder.


>g
Please select one:


(1)>"I'm ready. Let's get the hell out of here."
(2)>"Thanks for coming, Johnny."


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
1


Johnny and I leave the Cemetery and get a cab to the Liquor Hole Blue Tavern.

I can't help fidgeting like a backseat driver along the way. We apparently found one of those guys who got a waiver from the mayor so that they don't
have to use their turn signals anymore. Actually, you see a lot more guys like that then you'd expect in New York. Either that or the guy was simply an
idiot semen-sipping jackhole who should be stripped of his license and have his '05 Camaro impounded. One or the other, anyway.


Outside The Liquor Hole Blue Tavern
The Liquor Hole Blue Tavern is one of a series of filthy, dim-lit nightclubs usually packed to the brim with goths, ravers, geeks and masked criminals.
A guy wearing a domino mask and cape tends to melt away nicely within the shadows when the collective teenage homeless is throttling about. The
bouncer sees us coming and gets himself interposed nicely in front of the door -- apparently he knows who we are.

Some kind of bouncer, mime or circus runner is here before me.

>t bouncer
Please select one:


(1)>"You remember that Bruce Willis vehicle 'Die Hard'?"
(2)>"One side, red."
(3)>"Murder investigation. Need to question your customers."


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
3


"No. Beat it," says the Bouncer.

I'm in absolutely no mood for this guy's crap. It dawns on me that he might know something, though.


>g
Please select one:


(1)>"You remember that Bruce Willis vehicle 'Die Hard'?"
(2)>"One side, red."
(3)>"What do you know about Red Cloud's death?"


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
3


The Bouncer holds out his hand. As if he's expecting me to pay him money or something for the privilege of talking to him.

I make a show of trying to find some money. Like I've got some squirreled away in my sash or something. I ask Johnny if he has any and he shakes his
head. I take out my pipe.

"Probably got some in here," I say, cheerily, to the Bouncer. I make a show of shaking it back and forth. "Hmm! Doesn't seem as if it's going to come
out." I then smash the pipe directly into his outstretched hand. He screams in agony, cradling his now useless right hand.

That certainly got a reaction out of him.


>fight bouncer
I give him a quick jab to the jaw, followed by a kick to his kneecap. He flails wildly and attempts to rip my head off with a single, poorly-placed
haymaker. He's slow to recover from his punch so I get in close and slam my hands across both of his ears. That's about all he can take before
crumpling to the ground.


>search bouncer
Searching the bouncer reveals a seventy-five dollar bill.


>get the bill
Taken.

>in

The Liquor Hole Blue Tavern
A neon, cyan light momentarily blinds me as I enter the Tavern. The entire inside of the bar is bathed in one of a dozen blue fluorescent bulbs. Usually
it's understood that heroes don't set foot in this bar -- if we came here often to bust down super-villains then the place wouldn't be able to turn a profit.
Tonight's obviously an exception. Pockets of ravers, technowads and super-villains look up towards us; some recognize us but most don't. I notice a
couple villains right away -- Snowman and the Green Knight, for instance. There are a few more skulking about in the shadows. Cigarette smoke has
turned the air into a foul amalgam of gas seemingly absent of any genuine oxygen. Some harsh, post-modern goth or angst music is being blasted
through the many speakers of the Tavern. Hollywood and I head toward the bar, looking over the patrons and deciding who to talk to first.

I can hear a faint buzzing of electricity if I concentrate beyond the club's music.


>save
Saved.

>pull plug
I give the Iron Lung's electric cord a sharp pull and it comes free from the wall. He gives a sharp scream, informing me that I am a complete and total
bastard prick before the shock of power loss renders him unconscious.

The other super-villians in the bar are pretty pissed at this act of aggression, and rise up from their booths in order to attack!

Johnny hits Green Knight!!

Snowman shoots a blast of cold at Johnny and misses him!

Pounder slams his fists into Johnny, but it doesn't make him even flinch.

"No rest for the wicked!" exclaims the Green Knight. He slashes at me with a deep cut that I feel through my armor.

I feel an arrow impact my thigh -- it stings for a second but I pull it out OK.


>fight snowman
I hit Snowman!!

Johnny attacks, but misses Green Knight!

Snowman fires a shot towards me but it only gets my armor.

Pounder punches Johnny, but it didn't seem as if he did any damage.

The Green Knight's blade hits Johnny, but does not cut him.

The AIDS Archer hits me with a fired shot!


>g
I hit Snowman!!

The DJ turns the music up a little louder.

Johnny hits Green Knight!!

Snowman fires his battlesuit at Johnny, but misses.

Pounder misses Johnny!

The Green Knight brings the flat of his sword upside my face. I would have been permanently scarred if he hit me with the edge!

The AIDS Archer notches an arrow, shoots it, and hits me!


>g
I hit Snowman!!


Snowman collapses and falls to the ground.

Johnny hits Green Knight!!

Pounder misses Johnny!

The AIDS Archer notches an arrow and shoots -- he hits nothing with it.


>g

Snowman is not conscious enough to put up a fight right now.


>fight aids
I hit AIDS Archer!!

Some kid just lost his last life on the arcade game. "Fucking Bentley!" he screams.

Johnny attacks, but misses Green Knight!

Pounder smashes his fist into my head. He laughs with mirth.

The Green Knight brings his sword down on Johnny, right across his neck. The sword can't break Johnny's skin and the reaction causes the Knight to
nearly drop his sword.

The AIDS Archer fires two shots at once towards Johnny and myself. He misses us both.


>g
I hit AIDS Archer!!

Johnny attacks, but misses Green Knight!

Pounder misses Johnny!

The Green Knight withdraws and checks out the damage on his armor.

The AIDS Archer pours some kind of liquid onto one of his arrows.


>g
I hit AIDS Archer!!


The AIDS Archer collapses and falls to the ground.

Johnny attacks, but misses Green Knight!

Pounder misses Johnny!

The Green Knight stabs Johnny, but can't break his skin.


>g

AIDS Archer is not conscious enough to put up a fight right now.


>fight green
I attack, but miss Green Knight!

Johnny hits Green Knight!!

Pounder crushes my head with his fists. I'm momentarily stunned...

Green Knight chops at Johnny but can't break his skin.


>g
I attack, but miss Green Knight!

Johnny attacks, but misses Green Knight!

I sense Pounder coming up on me and elbow him in the face before he can attack me.


>g
I attack, but miss Green Knight!

Johnny attacks, but misses Green Knight!

Pounder comes at my head. I duck out of the way and bring my fists down on his right patella. He howls in pain.

The Green Knight brings his sword down on Johnny, right across his neck. The sword can't break Johnny's skin and the reaction causes the Knight to
nearly drop his sword.


>g
I hit Green Knight!!


Green Knight collapses and falls to the ground.

Johnny hits Pounder!!

Pounder punches Johnny, but it didn't seem as if he did any damage.


>fight pounder
I hit Pounder!!

Johnny hits Pounder!!

I see Pounder coming from my peripheral vision but can't move fast enough -- he drives his fist into my kidneys.


>g
I hit Pounder!!


Pounder collapses and falls to the ground.

Johnny wipes the sweat away from his brow after the last guy falls. "Whew. Hey, we should probably think about getting out of here in a couple
minutes. No doubt the cops are going to be looking for an excuse to pull some of us into jail."

"You bet," I say. I nod over towards the bartender. "Call us a cab, man?" The bartender nods in agreement and picks up the telephone.


>search snowman
Searching the Snowman reveals a stub.


>get the stub
Done.


>out
We leave the bar a complete mess. Johnny chucks a small wad of cash to the bartender. "Gracias, jefe," he says.


Outside The Liquor Hole Blue Tavern
I'm outside the Liquor Hole Blue Tavern. The Tavern is one of a franchise frequented by heavily eyeshadowed goths, skinny ravers, technically-gifted
geeks and masked criminals.

There is a small yellow taxi here, waiting for a fare.


>get in cab
"Hey, Venger," says Johnny. "I've got some things to take care of in Real Life. You gonna be okay for a bit? Go a while without beating the mierda out
of anyone for a while?"

"Yeah. You bet."

"All right. I'll give you a call tomorrow, we'll get going on this again." He shakes my hand and takes off down the street. I get into the cab and greet my
boy and usual cabbie Raghib.


>t cabbie
Please select one:


(1)>"I need to go to the Central Comics Corp store."
(2)>"I need to go home."


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
1


The cabbie drives me to the City Comic Corp shop.


Outside the City Comic Corp
I'm just outside the largest comic book and hobby shop in Manhattan. From the outside, it looks as if much cooler things go on within. Plenty of posters
advertising various vampire and lycanthrope mags line the windows. There is very little super-hero content these days, aside from the mainstays and
the traditional staples. Comic books have made the transition to a deeper form of story and art, and it shows in shops like this. An alleyway lies to the
south, but really beyond that there are no active businesses at this hour.

Apparently some trading cards were being released exactly at midnight tonight, thus the store's unusually late hours.


>in

City Comic Corp
The comic shop is a poorly-lit haven for the anti-social. The comics are displayed on the racks and there are a few shelves with models and
miniatures. The trading cards are behind the counter in a locked shelf. The owner looks up from his porn when I come in and rolls his eyes. He puts his
slice of pizza down in order to formulate some sarcastically clever response. 

"Sorry, Mack, the costume store is uptown an' closed."

Who is this jerk? "Yeah. Thanks." I point to his magazine. "Nice set up you have there, Tommy Boy. Two great tastes that go great together. 'You got
your come in my pizza! You got your pizza in my come!' Somewhere Jimmy Reeses is spinning in his fricking grave."

Some kid wearing a backpack is muttering back and forth to himself.

A teenage girl eyes the backpacked kid suspiciously and then deftly slips by me, leaving the store.


>look at owner
He's kind of a big-boned sort in his early thirties. He's got at least three day's blue, stubbly growth of his beard and could do with a fierce shampooing.

The kid gets a little louder. "Icefrost expansion.... yeah... where -- where is the Icefrost expansion packs?"


>t owner
Please select one:


(1)>"What do you know of Red Cloud's death?"
(2)>"How often does the Rad HaX0r come in here?"
(3)>"I need to buy a pack of Icefrost Expansions."
(4)>"I need to buy all your Icefrost Expansions.  "


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
4


"Certainly, sir." I make a fundamental error. I pull out my bill before he rings up my order. What can I say -- it's late, my girlfriend was just killed, I just put
up with some super-powered slime that would just as soon kill me as look at me. And so forth. "Seventy-five dollars, sir." I kind of lose it.

"You're surely stoned. A frigging gipper for a bunch of freaking cards?" The backpack-wearing kid takes note and starts smiling smugly, thinking he's
going to get some cards after all. Not a chance.

"Fine, fine," I say. I get the box of cards. Easy come, easy go. I abhor living in this city -- Buffalo was certainly no prize, but at least chudly, burpy slugs
like this guy didn't rip me off.


>t kid
Please select one:


(1)>"You want these cards?"
(2)>"You know the Rad HaX0r?"


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
2


"Who?"

"The Rad HaX0r. The Rad Hacker. Wears a costume. Goes to raves. Drops way too much E."

The backpacked kid eyes the cards warily. "Yeah. Maybe."



>g
Please select one:


(1)>"You want these cards?"


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
1


"Yes! You have no idea! I have to have them! It is very important!"

The backpack-toting kid cries for some Icefrost expansion cards!


>g
Please select one:


(1)>"Yeah, well, that's too bad."
(2)>"Tell me everything you know about Rad HaX0r."


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
2


"He's this really cool guy. Great hacker! He's a real whiz. Do you know all those DOS attacks?"

"The denial of service attacks?"

"Is that what that stands for?"

"The hell did you think it stood for?"

"Disk Operating System."

Jesus. Kids today. "What the hell does that mean? A DOS attack? Did you think the guy went berzerk and started remotely installing EDLIN on remote
machines?"

He changes the subject. "He can get into anyone's computer anywhere at anytime. He's written a lot of networking software on contract. Then he
backdoors his way in. Plus, he's just plain talented. He's pretty good at the MMORPGs as well. He's elite!"

"What does that stand for?"

"Massively-multiplayer on-line role-playing games. You know. Neuromancer On-Line, Tolkien World, Shades, Faith III, so forth. Hee hee!"

There's something about one of those games that rings a bell.

"Can I have the cards?" he asks.

"Not yet. I have some more questions for you."


>h
I can't use the word "h".

>g
Please select one:


(1)>"Start singing about the HaX0r and you'll get the cards."


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
1


"He wanted me to grab these cards for him. He couldn't make it out tonight."

"Whoa. Back up. Why these cards?"

The backpack crusader laughs at this. An annoying, smug, titter of a laugh. "Don't you know? Hee, hee! These are only the most desirable expansion
pack to come down the pipe in the last twenty-five years! Ewww! Heh! Everyone knows they can't start selling them until midnight and The Hacker
knew no-one else in their right mind would come to this part of the city to get them at this hour!"


>g
Please select one:


(1)>"So why did he send you?"
(2)>"You supposed to meet someone here?"


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
2


"How did you know that?"

"Do you have any idea who I am?"  Nothing. "Rad HaX0r never mentioned me?" He shakes his head. "Who the hell did the HaX0r tell you you were
going to meet?"

"Some skinny blonde guy," says the kid. It then dawns on him. "Are you the guy?" You betcha, kid.

"Yeah you right," I say.

"Oh. Sorry. He told me to tell you two things. That 'your payment is at the box at the spot' and 'don't come around for two weeks.'"

"The hell does that mean?" The kid just shrugs.

A wave of horror creeps over me. This payment was obviously intended for Snowman -- he's the only super-villain I know of who even remotely looks
like me. What has he been up to recently that hasn't made the news? Is the Rad HaX0r actually involved in Red Cloud's death? Is Snowman, after all?


>g
Please select one:


(1)>"So why did he send you?"
(2)>"Where's he living these days?"


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
1


"He said he couldn't go out and be seen in public. He would also buy me a box. Why?"

"I'm asking the questions here." I tap my pipe against the box. "Unless you want to see these cards pummeled. Badly." The kid looks aghast in horror.
Even the shopkeeper gives a mutter of disdain. What's with these freaking geeks?


>g
Please select one:


(1)>"Where's he living these days?"


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
1


"By the Port. The bus terminal."

"I mean, specifically."

"He's near 9th and 34th. In a complete hellhole actually. But! He does have a porch! Hee hee!"

"Can I have the cards now?"


>g
Please select one:


(1)>"No. Beat it."
(2)>"Yeah, sure."


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
2


"Thanks!" He grabs the box and runs out of the store.


>out

Outside the City Comic Corp
I'm just outside the largest comic book and hobby shop in Manhattan. From the outside, it looks as if much cooler things go on within. Plenty of posters
advertising various vampire and lycanthrope mags line the windows. There is very little super-hero content these days, aside from the mainstays and
the traditional staples. Comic books have made the transition to a deeper form of story and art, and it shows in shops like this. An alleyway lies to the
south, but really beyond that there are no active businesses at this hour.

Apparently some trading cards were being released exactly at midnight tonight, thus the store's unusually late hours.


>s

Lit Alley
This is an alley off of the City Comics Corp building. It is quite narrow -- slightly more than a couple shoulder's length across.

Klan Man is here, setting up one of his fiery crosses. He just gets it to light as I enter the alley.

"You!" he exclaims in his thick New England accent. "Back away, Holy Avenger! I have no quarrel with you tonight and this will go down tonight with or
without your interference! Tonight we are on the same side of the law!"

Klan Man picks up the obviously beaten girl I saw earlier in the Comic Shop. Her eyes trail wildly about for a moment before focusing on me. And at
that moment I see her light up, slightly. I see some hope.

Klan Man is here, with a butcher's knife held close to the throat of an abused korean girl. He menacingly feigns cutting her throat in an attempt to get
me to back off.


>t klan man
Please select one:


(1)>"Let her go! Now!"
(2)>"Same side? The hell are you talking about?"
(3)>"Kill her and you die. If you ever again want to see a blue sky, let her go."


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
1


"Holy Avenger, this matter is not up for discussion! You have no idea what this little whore has been up to! Why don't you tell him, honey?" He shakes
her violently by the head for a moment. "She's been fucking every white boy in this city -- a different one every night -- for the past four months!" He
sees me about to respond to that and cuts me off. "This is Anthraxia -- I know you've heard about her! She has TIDS!"

TIDS is a mutation of the AIDS disease that was discovered in Africa six or seven years ago. The 't' stands for terminal, which is sort of a misnomer --
the disease selects certain "hosts" which can lead perfectly normal lives, seemingly healthy. However, those she passes the disease onto may find
themselves dead within two or three weeks if the virus does not deem them an effective "host".


>g
Please select one:


(1)>"Killing her solves nothing!"
(2)>"And stringing her up on that cross is the solution?"
(3)>"You will drop the knife now, or I will take you down!"


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
1


"Killing her solves everything! Who knows how many new hosts are out there, in my community? If this is perceived to be a white man's disease, do
you have any idea how we will be persecuted?"

"Jesus Christ, Klan Man! People like you are responsible for whatever stigma AIDS and TIDS have in the first place!"

"Avenger, I am a race warrior. As I suspect someday, when your eyes open, you will be too. If this girl does not go up on this cross -- making her a
martyr for my cause -- then so be it. But she will die. And you will not save her!

With that, Klan Man attempts to cut her throat, but she wriggles about and squirms. He gets an incredibly deep and long slice through her left arm and
she drops to the ground. I run over towards them, desperate to stop him from killing her. The girl is bleeding everywhere. He gives her a boot to her
face and runs north.


>tie sash to arm
I tie my sash around her arm in a tight knot. Her blood dampens the sash, but it seems to act enough like a tournaquet to stop her from dying due to
the blood loss and trauma.

Evidently somebody from the comic store saw the scene, as an ambulance arrives a couple minutes later. The medics bandage her up and roughly
throw her into the wagon. I note my disapproval with her being tossed around like cattle.

"Sorry, Mr. Holy Avenger. You'll understand if some of us aren't costumed freaks who don't get sick," the orderly says. "This evil fucking slut has been
someone the cops have been trying to bust for weeks now."

"It's this new thing," I tell him. "Due process. Innocent until proven guilty." I hate to use a cliche like that, but I'm absolutely exhausted and the guy kind
of has a point. I guess.

"Yeah. Sure," he says. He holds out my sash. "You want this back?"

"I don't want the cops to have it, if that's what you mean." The orderly hands it back to me and leaves without another word.


>n

Outside the City Comic Corp
I'm just outside the largest comic book and hobby shop in Manhattan. From the outside, it looks as if much cooler things go on within. Plenty of posters
advertising various vampire and lycanthrope mags line the windows. There is very little super-hero content these days, aside from the mainstays and
the traditional staples. Comic books have made the transition to a deeper form of story and art, and it shows in shops like this. An alleyway lies to the
south, but really beyond that there are no active businesses at this hour.

Apparently some trading cards were being released exactly at midnight tonight, thus the store's unusually late hours.

There is a small yellow taxi here, waiting for a fare.


>get in cab
I get into the cab. "'Sup, Raghib?"

"Well, if it isn't the Holy Fucking Avenger," he says. "Mister Big Shot. Where to?"


>t cabbie
Please select one:


(1)>"I need to go home."


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
1


The cabbie drives me a few blocks from my apartment complex -- to a nearby crack house that I can reasonably be presumed to be busting. Actually,
it's not even big enough to be a crack house. It's more like a crack studio. I go toward the back of it and pick up a trenchcoat I stash there. I take off my
mask and proceed home. The whole of my dual identity is based upon the fact that in real life, per se, I'm pretty much a nobody.


My Living Room
Home isn't much to speak about. It's free from roaches and beetles and video cameras and I guess that's what's really important. But the walls are all
crumbly, the floor is paper thin and rain always leaks from the skylight. There are four rooms in it -- mine, Red Cloud's, the living room and the kitchen.
It's mostly painted in a sort of grayish-aqua hue, I guess. (It wasn't my choice.) Coming back here... I guess I've been putting it off. This is the first time
since I learned of Red Cloud's death that I have been back home.

The normal stuff is here -- couch, television, etc. To the east is my bedroom, to the west hers. The kitchen is north.


>z
Time passes...

>z
Time passes...
The phone is ringing.

The phone is ringing.

The phone is ringing.


>answer phone
It's the Succubus on the other end of the line.

"Marc," she says.

"Jenn," I reply. "What's going on?"

"Look... I think it may be good for you if I come over tonight."

"I don't know if that's such a solid  idea. I kind of got in a fight tonight. I feel awful."

"I heard. It was on the news. You took out everybody at that bar."

"Johnny did most of the work. I just kind of hung back and stared intently at my possessions."

"What?"

"I don't know."

"I'll be right over. And for the love of God, don't kill yourself!"

"I'm not -- " Jenn hangs up and the line goes dead. I spend the next sixty seconds briefly wondering why my team-mate thinks I have been overcome
with a suicide pose when I hear a definite scraping noise come from Red Cloud's bedroom.


>hang up phone
Done.

>w

Red Cloud's Bedroom
It still smells like her.

It still feels like her. It feels like she's here. It's just the way she left it. Maybe it hadn't hit me. It should have, when I identified her at the morgue and
vomited. But now... now it's really... 


>look

Red Cloud's Bedroom
She had a much more interesting room than mine. More alive. When she first moved in she wasn't going to bring much more than her clothes, makeup
and computer and then I made some crack about being a "Polyester Bride" and she took offense. So she went crazy. Her bed is an overblown
canopy-topped wonder that dominates most of the room. Just to the right of it is her dresser, mirror and closet. Her computer and desk is over to the
other side of her bed. To the east is the living room.


>search room
I try to discern the origin of that scraping noise... nothing seems to be under her bed or anything. I then move the curtains apart... and standing behind
them is the Red Wraith.

Hello, Marcus...


>look at wraith
The Red Wraith is a hideously disfigured creature of post-modern horror. His skin is a crimson and pink amalgam that hangs loosely in some places,
cable-tight in others. His left forearm juts away from its shoulder, exposing the raw bone. He speaks with a smug, high rasp through sharp, jutting
teeth. His most striking feature, however, is the vein-engorged, singular eye that drowns his sick face. With no lid to blink it haughtily stares upon the
world, scheming, judging, full of spongey hate. He is maliciously evil and my nemesis.

Oh, Marc... will I always be the object of your disaffected stare? We so share a bond, you and I... In times of great personal tragedy, have I not
always been there for you? Am I not the one?

Do you remember the first time we met?

The Red Wraith quickly snatches my arm with his. A grin slowly creases his faux jaw. The transformation is instantaneous. As if I had been here all
along.

I was eight years old and at a ratty, filthy circus in a suburb an hour or so east of home. The locale reeked of barely-cooked, almost raw hamburger
meat and spilled beer. The tents were set up over an earthy, water-starved mix of dead grass and dirt. My friend Joe and I had snuck onto a bus
earlier that morning in order to attend, gleefully excited over the realization of our plan that would out-smart our parents. We rode the roller-coaster
three or four times before Joe started to vomit. I patted him on the back and scurried up the line in order to ride it once more.

I was seated next to a rail-thin bit of trash, that sneeringly waved back his mullet as the ride began. He smelled like old menthol cigarettes tinged with
sweat. He stared at me with hate.

He sneezed. We were locked into our seats. The girl ensured that the safety restraints were secure. The ride began.

As we crawled up the incline I saw him squirm. I thought nothing of it. We reached the apex and began our quick descent. 

It was at that point that he stabbed me in the chest with a rusted knife. He then rammed it into my stomach. My thigh. My cries of pain were lost in the
adrenaline rush. My windbreaker kept my blood from splattering. He laughed. He threw his arms up when we entered the tunnel and screamed. This
was the greatest thing he had ever done. This was what he fantasized about when sleep crept upon his body. I can never forget the mix of ever-shifting
gravity and orientation coupled with piercing pain and shock.

The ride came to a close with a sudden jolt. I blacked out somewhere. My coaster partner patted me on the head, tousling my hair with his oil-
blackened nails. He removed the safety bar and slowly trotted away with an arrogant gait -- one hand cupping his groin, the other giving high-fives all
around. 

The girl in charge of the ride came to me after everyone else had exited the coaster. She turned my slumped head towards her and gave me her best
grin. The grin worked its way up her face. Her eyes merged into a single, bloodshot ball. Her hair became wildly strewn about her skull. It was a show
for my eyes only.

Oh, no. It won't end like this, Marcus. Not like this. The wager I have in place demands you at least reach adulthood. Someday, ever so far away,
you will repay this. You will...

I would find out later that the Red Wraith healed my wounds and scars that day. I did not see him again until years later when I donned this costume
and mask. He is convinced that he will possess me. He has made that somewhat clear.

I awake to find the Succubus shaking the devil right out of me. I am curled up on the floor of Red Cloud's bedroom.

"Marc? Marc! What happened? Are you okay?"


>t succubus
Please select one:


(1)>"It was the Wraith..."
(2)>"I just collapsed. I'm OK."
(3)>"I'm really tired. I think I'm going to sleep. Good night, Jenn."


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
3


Jenn gives me a quick peck on the cheek and a sympathetic smile. "You take care, OK?"

The Succubus hovers up to the skylight, opens it and flies away.


>sleep
I fall to sleep, completely exhausted from the last few days. Sleeping now should give me the jump on the Rad HaX0r tomorrow -- everything I've ever
heard about the guy and his sleeping habits indicate that they party all night and go to sleep at dawn. I make a note to get up around six or seven in
the morning tomorrow and fall asleep...

Time passes...

Around six-thirty I wake up and get myself ready to go to work. The HaX0r is off 34th Street and it's time I paid him a visit to see if he feels up to
singing like a canary.


>out

My Living Room
Home isn't much to speak about. It's free from roaches and beetles and video cameras and I guess that's what's really important. But the walls are all
crumbly, the floor is paper thin and rain always leaks from the skylight. There are four rooms in it -- mine, Red Cloud's, the living room and the kitchen.
It's mostly painted in a sort of grayish-aqua hue, I guess. (It wasn't my choice.) Coming back here... I guess I've been putting it off. This is the first time
since I learned of Red Cloud's death that I have been back home.

The normal stuff is here -- couch, television, etc. To the east is my bedroom, to the west hers. The kitchen is north.


>out
I leave my apartment and go a few blocks towards the Dumpster where I stash my street clothes. I normally don't do this in broad daylight, but it's early
enough and deserted enough so that nobody is out keeping tabs on me. I hail a cab -- my buddy Raghib is nowhere to be found -- and head off
towards 9th and 34th in order to catch up with the Rad HaX0r.


Outside The Rad Hax0r's Apartment
This kid lives in a complete dump. Houses are packed together like caged hens. Oh -- he's got a front stoop, though. So he'll no doubt be able to
scream incoherencies at passer-bys if he somehow makes it past the beating I'm about to give him. The place is a desolate graying color with paint
ripping off the walls. A grimy set of steps leads up to some sort of poorly designed airlock before I can actually enter his house. It doesn't look as if
there is any sort of lock. There's a few feet worth of back-alley on the right side of his house which leads only God-knows-where. 


>n

Alley
This alley is a foul urban corridor incredibly thick with stank. The air is moist and heavy and filled with the sounds of a couple of teenagers, undead
banshees or cats having sex next door. I'm not really sure which it is. The alley continues north for a few more feet behind the Rad HaX0r's house. 


>s

Outside The Rad Hax0r's Apartment
The Rad Hax0r's house is small, decaying and ripping with stank. It's not so much a crack house as it is a crack studio. A grimy set of stairs leads up
and I can go north into a back-alley.


>up

On the Stairs
His stairs are pretty much covered in gunk and rotting paint. The door to his house is here before me. Otherwise, I can go back down.


>n

Chamber
I hear a teenager speaking through a hidden speaker.

"Sorry, 'Venger. We figured you were coming." That has to be the Rad HaX0r.

"My webcams had you pegged the moment you got off that cab. You're not dealing with the Spanish Fly or the Texacutioner, asshole. I'm the Rad
Fucking HaXX000OOorr!"

Some kind of gas fills the chamber. I try to make a run for the door but just can't get around in time. I bang my head against the floor as the gas knocks
me unconscious...


Rad HaX0r's Living Room
The HaX0r's house is a complete mess. There is garbage, outdated computer equipment, newspapers and tobacco spitters tossed randomly about
his living room. The kid and his associates are obviously consummate slobs.

I start regaining consciousness... I can hear some of their conversation.

"...I think, yeah. We should kill him."

"Are you fucking high, Tubblo? Sparky's still not back yet from that last job, and you want us to get in this shit even further? You're not thinking." The
HaX0r sneezes. "Christ, Tubblo. I can't remember the last time my head throbbed like this..."

It appears as if the Rad HaX0r is pulling for my life, where his friend -- apparently named 'Tubblo' -- wants me killed.

"We've got the gun. So let's just use it! Shoot this asshole once and we dump his body. There's probably a ransom out on him from Mucous or
somebody anyway."

"Well... OK, maybe you're right. We would get pr0pX0rs for killing him."

"Sure we would. How much do you think we'd get? Enough to make up for Snowman's cut?"

"I have no idea. Take the glock," says the HaX0r, "Do it. I don't want my hands dirty."

The chubby little cocknobber glares at me. I look up at him. He draws his right hand back and punches me in the jaw.

"Heh. We couldn't get your mask off, Venger. Otherwise have no doubt, your face would be plastered all over the internet. Like a pic of one of my one-
night-stands. You know what I'm gonna do with the money I get? I'm gonna buy some real games. You know there's a bounty on you, right? Yeh. So I'm
gonna get games. Boxed ones, complete with sleeves and instructions. I will finally be able to 'read the fuckin' manual.'"

He loads a bullet into the chamber of the glock.

The window shatters.

My team-mate, Zeke Pabski -- the Wereboar -- crashes through the window and in a singular motion too quick for me to completely follow, and rips
the gun away from the kid with one of his fingers still in it.

"That smarted, didn't it Smilin' Jack?" Pabski calmly walks over to the bleeding fat kid and drapes his trench coat over his head. He then puts him into
a headlock and slams him down on the ground. I hear bones splinter and crack.

Pabski looks over in my direction. "Don't wet yourself, man. I'll just be a second." The Rad HaX0r runs from the kitchen to the front door. "Oh, forget
about it..." Pabski is off like a shot and roughly knocks the HaX0r's head into the door before he can escape. "The front fuckin' door? D'you have any
idea who the fuck I am?"

"I'll tell you anything! Just don't hit me again! I am elite!"

"We want some real fuckin' answers, kid!" He looks over to me. "The fuck's this squid gonna tell us, anyway, Venger? Contra cheat codes?" He then
takes the HaX0r's head and bangs it between the door frame. "Left, left, right, right, up, down, up down..."

After entertaining himself with the HaX0r's broken face, Pabski comes over to me. He puts his ass right in my face and lets go with a terrible fart. He
turns around and gets right in my grill. This is like the greatest thing he thinks he's ever done. "What did that smell like? Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!"

I shrug my shoulders and simply tell him, "Vaseline." The HaX0r starts chirping with laughter at that, so Pabski walks over and slugs him again. He
sheepishly rips the towel off my eyes and slashes through the bonds. "Shit, man. Don't give me that look. I could hear their heartbeats from down
there. It's like  you blasting Superdrag to my superior hearing." He gestures over to the other kid, who was knocked unconscious. "This rancid pussy
didn't even have the guts to pull the trigger. I thought the little motherfucker was going to have a fuckin' heart attack just playin' around. Shit. Anyway, I'm
sure he'll be conscious in time to start chuckin' droids back into the Sarlaac Pit soon enough." Pabski feints towards the HaX0r and ends up scaring
the living hell out of him. "Flinch!" exclaims Pabski, as he swiftly crosses the room and punches him in the gut.

I get up and call a cab -- if Snowman is really involved like Tubblo said, I'm going to have to find him and see if he can successfully lie under extreme
pressure to me twice. This time, I'll use a bit more force.


>x pabski
Zeke Pabski, the Wereboar, is the living embodiment of every negative stereotype I have ever heard associated with New York City natives. He is
apparently from the Bronx and about 5'8", 180 lbs. He is able to transform himself, at will, from a total souse into a type of furry lycanthrope while
retaining his incredibly grating personality. He is unreliable, undependable, abrasive and completely without class or tact. He usually cavorts about in
a black trenchcoat and smokes Camel unfiltered. He is about 23 or 24 years old.

Pabski goes over to the HaX0r's disc collection and smashes one onto the ground.

"Hey!" screams the Rad HaX0r. "What the fuck are you doing? That's my Styx CD!"

"Yeah, well," says Pabski as he looks at the broken disc. "This one is now in pieces of eight."


>out

Chamber
The Rad HaX0r's porch, or chamber or whatever, is a humid and claustrophobic little room.


>out

On the Stairs
His stairs are pretty much covered in gunk and rotting paint. The door to his house is here before me. Otherwise, I can go back down.


>s

Outside The Rad Hax0r's Apartment
The Rad Hax0r's house is small, decaying and ripping with stank. It's not so much a crack house as it is a crack studio. A grimy set of stairs leads up
and I can go north into a back-alley.

There is a small yellow taxi here, waiting for a fare.


>d
I can't go that way.

>get in cab
I enter the cab and greet Raghib.

"Where are we off to, Holy Avenger?"


>t cabbie
Please select one:


(1)>"You know where Red Cloud was killed? I need to go there."


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
1


"Yeah, I know the area, Venger. What went on in there?" he says, referring to the HaX0r's house.

"Well, I found out that the Snowman had something to do with Red Cloud's death. Hey, look -- if you find out where he's holing up, can you get a hold
of me?"

"Yeah, sure, Venger. Here -- " Raghib peels off a disposable pager from a roll. "I think there's a couple rings left on this. I'll letcha know if I hear
anythin'."

"Thanks, man."

Raghib pulls up near the alley where Red Cloud was killed. "Look, I'll send somebody by in a bit or somethin'. I gotta pick up my kids from soccer
practice." Raghib rolls down his window and drives off.


Side Street
I am on a nameless Manhattan side street just south of the alley of where Red Cloud was slain. Ghetto apartments rise above me, four stories in
height, encompassing me in a depressing urban labyrinth. I can't imagine what would have brought her to this locale -- perhaps she had experienced
poverty of the type that would have forced her to live like this once, but if so, it was years before she met me. 


>look

Side Street
This is a side street with no sign just north of the alley where Red Cloud was slain. Ghetto apartments form this into a type of urban maze. I can hear
bits of the occasional loud argument and every so often a gun goes off in the distance.


>n

Blood-Soaked Alley
It was here where, days ago, all the light went out from my life.

This is a narrow alley flanked by crumbling, decadent squalor. The asphalt is broken in many places, the walls covered with layers of competing,
whispery graffiti from years long past. The traffic, the shouting and disheveled locals, the pent-up midnight gotham fury... it has melted away -- at least
for the moment -- as I walk about the locale that killed my love. The only sound is that of my imagined (I guess) grey fog... I feel the stench of what the
last few horrible moments of her life must have been against my skin and cannot make it go away.


>look

Blood-Soaked Alley
This is a narrow alley where, days ago, Red Cloud was killed. Everything here is horrible.

Snowman enters the alley. He's not wearing his helmet and looks shocked seeing me there.

"What the fuck are you doing here, jerk?"

>hit snowman
I hit Snowman!!

Snowman falls over and knocks his head roughly against the pavement. He is dazed for a moment before briefly coming back to consciousness. He
sees me look down at him, consumed by rage. He starts pleading for his life.

"Look, man, don't kill me... please..." He fades in and out of recognition. He's too weak to get up or really move about.


>n

Along the Street
This extension of the alley leads west to reasonable civilization. Cabs occasionally troll this area, but they are more easily found to the west.


>n
I can't go that way.

>w

Taxi Deck
Here, the alley opens into a more traditional street. The rest of Manhattan is beyond, beneath the waxing moon. To the north is a locked apartment
complex and to the east is a twisting back-alley. Taxis usually cruise this particular area looking for a fare.

The disposable pager that Raghib gave me goes off. I take a look at the message and read it. It's from the Ameba:

'RED WRAITH AT ST. COLUMBA MEMORIAL' 'HE'S RAISING CORPSES, FIGHTING US.' 'NEED YOU HERE NOW!' 'SENDING FOR YOUR
CAB!'

The Red Wraith will go on a rampage like this about once a year. He'll shore up in some cemetery and bring the dead back to life. I really don't need
his crap -- I want to find the kid gunman that Snowman talked about -- but I can't abandon my team-mates. While he's taken some perverse cat-and-
mouse interest in my life, Red Wraith has absolutely no qualms about killing my friends.


>z
Time passes...
The cab arrives and Raghib parks it alongside the street.

"Get in, Venger!" yells Raghib. "I'm getting a lot of money to take you to the Cemetery quickly! Get in, dammit!"


>get in cab
I enter the cab. It smells like a toilet. "The hell?" I ask Raghib.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he says. "Last fare no longer has poop in his butt. Where to?"


>t cabbie
Please select one:


(1)>"I need to go to the St. Columba Memorial."


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
1


"Yeah, you betcha Venger."

Raghib drives about as quickly as I've seen someone navigate the city and drops me off before the gate. I tell him I'll be by to settle up my bill as soon
as I get the reward for bringing in the Red Wraith. He gets himself out of the battle area.


Entrance to the St. Columba Memorial
I exit the cab and tell the cabbie to get the hell away from the graveyard -- I can hear the sounds of the battle before I'm even out of the taxi. Looking
upon the scene, well, it's worse than I expected.

The Red Wraith has raised dozens of corpses this eve. My team-mates -- Ameba, Johnny Hollywood, the Succubus and the Wereboar -- are doing
their best to fight them but they are not faring too well. Johnny's clothes have been ripped to shreds by the cadavers, the Succubus is doing everything
to simply avoid the rain of broken coffins thrown at her and so forth. 

To the north is the battlefield. A ways beyond that I can see a black mist trail up from a walk-in mini-Cathedral. 


>n

St. Columba Memorial Cemetery
I run through the gates to get into the Memorial and the fray surrounds me. 

I strike out randomly, attempting to only advance towards my friends before the Ameba suddenly appears before me.

"Venger! You've gotta get into that Cathedral! The Wraith is down there and none of us can pass through that fog!"


>n

Cathedral of Hate
Marcus, I'm so glad you were able to join us tonight! I had my doubts that you would come, you know...

I am inside a shifted Mausoleum. It appears as if the Red Wraith has transformed a walk-in structure for the entombment of the dead into his own
personal Cathedral of Hate. There are bodies, six to a side, pressed up against the Cathedral's eastern and western walls with cold glass. A set of
stairs covered in glowing moss leads downwards to where I feel the Wraith's aura and pull.


>d

Lair of the Red Wraith
I descend the staircase... it seemed to go on endlessly but I know that was just Red Wraith playing a trick with my mind. That's what I thought he would
do so he presented me with that image. I have to keep my wits. I have to be cleverer and smarter than he is.

I enter his Lair. And I see what I want to see. 

Red Cloud is misting up from her coffin. She beckons me to come toward her without a sound.

This is how you got her, wasn't it, Avenger? This is what you thought did it. A forever relaxed and fresh-faced man dressed to slay in deeply-
pocketed cargo pants. Don't you see? I even dip a little tobacco, just like you...

The Red Wraith pantomimes deep thought, furrowing his unibrow before letting loose a thick glob of spit directly upon my armor.

She's gorgeous, isn't she, Avenger? Isn't that how you truly feel? Haven't you survived three days with nary a passing thought of sleep, solely
driven because her beauty is gone from the world? No, you are not upset because your soul-mate's delicate faith and creativity is now gone from
the earth... No, Avenger, you are destined to walk an endless trail within a crimson spring because those eyes you stared so deeply into while
firmly gripped in fleeting passion is no longer...

He's wrong -- I have slept. I fell asleep after the Succubus left. He's not omnipotent or even truly telepathic and I grasp onto that scrap of reality as I
search my brain -- my brain -- for what to say to him. I have beat him before. He is not in control here.

The Red Wraith is here.

>t wraith
Please select one:


(1)>"What's this all about, Wraith?"
(2)>"What have you done to Red Cloud, you sick bitch?"
(3)>"Why did you put those bodies up top?"
(4)>"Why don't you get on the floor and start bleeding and save me the trouble?"


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
4


The image of Red Cloud lets go with a deep, familiar laugh. Red Wraith turns toward her with a sudden expression of shock. My girl cheering me on
gives me confidence to try something -- I change what I believe his costume should be. I see him wearing a pair of cotton diapers. Red Wraith finds
himself losing control and backs up.

"Nice threads, Wraith. Now I'm going to spank you like the Gerber Baby. It's all over except for the crying, Queefy." I walk over to him and lay him out
with a hard left. Two of his teeth fly out of his mouth and into the darkness. Sickly chunks of chartuse blood ooze out of his jaw. Red Cloud assumes a
fully gaseous form and flies into his mouth, expanding his lungs to a massive, unholy semblance of misplaced paunch.

No! I will have control!

The Wraith brings me close with his good arm and stares into my face. I look away but it doesn't matter. I cry out for Red Cloud, but everything goes
black...


Before Anthraxia
I suddenly find myself in a sparse living room. Somebody's house, apparently. I start to look the room over, seeing if I can find any obvious traps that
the Wraith has placed here for me.

A girl walks down from above someplace. She smiles at me. I recognize her -- it's Anthraxia, the girl the news has been worked up about for
spreading that immune-deficiency disease to as many white teens as she can find. This scene appears set a few years before the present.

"I'm so glad you came over, tonight! I just wanted to ask you... will you go roller-blading with me tonight? Maybe?" She looks at me, just brimming with
hope.


>t anthraxia
Please select one:


(1)>"Uh, sure. I'll go rollerblading with you."
(2)>"Does the phrase 'not a chance' mean anything to you?"


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
1


"Oh, good!" she yelps. "I didn't think you would, but that's so rad!"

I agree to go on a date with her. She says she'll pick me up around seven and that we can go roller blading. Sounds great, I guess.

The thing is, the Wraith makes me feel as if I had to actually wait until seven o'clock. I'm sure it's just all compressed or expanded time in my mind, but
sitting there for a few hours bored? He'll pay for that. Anthraxia picks me up in her Metro and we head down to the rink.

I finally start to understand the point of the whole thing. While blading, she gets away from me for a bit and starts lapping me in the circle. A pack of
boys -- three of the most exaggerated, lily-white boys I have ever seen in my life -- hold their arms out and clothesline her as she goes by. They
collectively snort with laughter. In this particular scene, it's as if they all do the exact same thing and only have a very limited type of individualism.

Anthraxia pipes back with some sharp retort and the boys pick up their abuse. They start pushing her around. What's going on is as transparent as
scotch tape. I don't feel like engaging the lads in conversation -- what am I going to learn from them, after all? -- so I ram their heads together into a
shared concussion of pain. They collapse face down on the rink.

She begins her life-affirming speech. If this is the kind of happy-crappy cliched garbage the Wraith can come up with, then I'm going to feel great
calling him out about it. I yell to him to knock it off and let me pass.

And with that, Anthraxia fades away and a passageway forms to the east.


>e

Before the Succubus
The Succubus sees me enter her room. She looks differently from how I've ever seen her before. Usually she is so incredibly possessive of her mix of
sympathy and confidence... but she isn't like that right now. The scene itself is one where I appear to be in her bedroom. When I look directly at her she
looks like the young, adult woman I've known for a few years now. But when looking at the room I am in, or her indirectly she appears to be much,
much younger. Nary a teenager, even.


>kiss succubus
I gently bring myself over to Jenn. It's as if she's seeing me for the first time.

"Yes, Jennifer, you're a little different. There's no denying that. But there is also no denying that in your mutation there is beauty. You will one day be
able to fly. To soar through cities and look upon them from the sky. You will grow up to be a moral, just, compassionate woman who I consider to be
one of my best friends. It won't be easy -- that much I am sure of. But your empathy and your caring for others is a gift. A very precious, very important
gift."

I kiss her. Once, on the lips. She opens her eyes first. I see her smiling at me. She begins to fade away... 

A passageway opens to the east.


>e

Before the AIDS Archer
I am obviously within a college dormitory room.

It appears as if the owner of the room is a physical education major or something. The room is split with a giant closet separating my half and my
room-mate's. I hear some shuffling on the other side and turn my head to that side to see who it is.

The AIDS Archer is wearing a broad-faced smile and looks up towards me. "Gonna pull tonight, meng. You know that sally I met at the Red House the
other night?" Without waiting for confirmation, he continues. "She's coming over here tonight. Literally, eh? Ha heh ha. Narmean? Meng?" I kind of
understand the guy, I guess -- meng, apparently means "man" or something. "Yeh," he says, "by the way, thanks for keeping your stuff out of my fridge.
I hadda fill mine up with a couple bottles of Blue Whale, so thanks for bein' cool about that, meng..."

> give pipe to aids
"Why don't you use this, instead?" I hand him the pipe. "You never know who your date might have been sleeping with. This way you can still have a
good time. Right?" He considers that for a moment.

"Yeeeeees..." He mulls it over. "I guess it's better to be safe than sorry. But is this thing clean?"

"You're worried about the cleanliness of a pipe but not your own unit? Dude, this girl made a gang-bang video! A whole series of them! Yes, credit to
you for not caring and not holding her past against her, but if you're going to be casual about the whole thing go all the way. Don't go half-and-half!
Jesus, Mary, Mother of God!"

"Okay! Okay, goddammit. I'm sure she'll give me head. We'll both be happy. Fine. Geez... meng..."

The AIDS Archer takes the pipe and exits through the haunting eastern passageway that just suddenly appeared.


>e

Before the Drifter
The Wraith has outdone himself this time. I am within a the same roller coaster ride I was stabbed in so many years ago. We are up on the deck,
around twenty or twenty-five feet in the air. I am before the same drifter who made me bleed. I haven't forgotten how close I came to dying that day.
And I've always wanted a chance to set this right.

The drifter waves for me to hit him. "Go ahead," he whispers, "Take the first shot."


>hit drifter
I will myself to act. Somehow, my pipe is at my side. I am in costume. I have my sweet, sweet mask. The look of shock on his face is priceless. If this is
the Wraith extrapolating this from my mind, then he did a wonderful job...

"Looks like I became more of a match for you," I tell him. Quietly. He gets the picture and begins to run.

I throw my pipe at him and trip him up. He falls to the ground. I calmly walk over to him and drag him by his neck. I hold him over the rail and let him get
a great look downwards.

Give me one good reason. One good reason to not throw you off.

"I'm sick!" he exclaims. "Sick in the head! I ain't right!"

"That's for sure." I let him drop. He shrieks. He twists his body about. And before he becomes a grease-laden spot on the carny ground I imagine a
million plush buffaloes before him. He strikes them, and bounces off. Nary more than a twisted ankle. "We're going to do this until you start to
understand the concept of sympathy. And you'd better be a fast learner, because I may forget to imagine those stuffed animals that break your fall if I
start laughing at your girlish mewling on the way down."

I don't remember exactly how many times I threw him off the rail. He wet himself a couple times, which is both doubly disgusting and doubly
impressive. I think, at the end, he started to understand.

A passageway forms to the east.


>e

Before the Father
I enter this room and find my father sitting at our kitchen table smoking a cigarette. For a while he was able to give them up, but eventually the stress of
his job, life and future caused him to start smoking them again. He looks up to me without real acknowledgement. By that I mean, he knows I'm here in
the room with him but has no idea I'm his son.

"Sit down," he says. Only there's no place to sit down. I saunter up towards him and look at him from across the table.

He stares at me intently. Seemingly completely able to read the expression of shock on my face. "I know you..." he waves his cigarette at me briefly.
"You're one of them 'super-heroes' from New York City." He grunts, scrunches his face up as if he was in intense physical pain and takes a drag on his
cigarette. "You saved a lot of people there. Yep..."


>remove mask
Done.

I take my mask off and kneel next to him. He looks at me as if seeing me for the first time ever.
"You... you're...?"

"Yeah," I said. I take a look towards the east -- it's getting lighter. I don't know how much time I have left. "Look... I wish I could make up for all the time
we had together that I wasted. I know you had no idea who I was when I was growing up or what was going through my mind but you affected me more
than any other person. You gave me the feeling that my freedom, my destiny was a right. It wasn't an intellectual belief or a philosophy, but a feeling I
have that I can not change."

"And you taught me to never let any person or power take our freedom away," I tell him. "You taught me never to gloss over the obvious, to look
carefully at absolutely everything about every situation... to matter. Really. I know I never had a chance to tell you this," I see the passageway to the
east get larger. I know that I have my father's full attention for the first time in my life. "but you made me the man I am today." He begins to fade. I finally
see him smile. He knows. Blessed Christ, he knows. I remember, right before he leaves to tell him one last thing... 

"They won! The Bills, they did! They beat..." I can't see him anymore. I think he heard me. I hope he did. He wanted to see that for himself so badly...

A passageway opens to the east.


>e
"It's over, Wraith!" I yell. "I got past your gauntlet completely! Get out here, now!"

There is one more...

"And I take it that this boy was the last body I saw upstairs. Who is he? Some kid who threw a dodge ball at me when I was seven? You're getting
pathetic, Wraith. Pathetic and desperate. You and I both know it. Why not bring by the first girl that dumped me? The first professor to fail me?" The
Wraith claps his hands in delight at that.

Oh, your rage, Avenger, your rage! You have been searching so hard for those responsible for the death of your betrothed. The boy before you is
the lad who squeezed off all those shots into your lover's body. He, along with the Rad Hacker and the Snowman were paid in gold by your dear
friend, Mister... Mucous. The Hacker, of course, discerned who she was through her computer, the Snowman froze her in place, the boy here shot
her... quite a feat by the illustrious Hacker, wouldn't you say?

"I guess. There's no informational privacy anymore. You and I both know that -- hell -- between you and me there are no secrets left. Those that can
make the bandwidth their personal bitch will have an advantage that only grows. Am I supposed to be impressed that the HaX0r figured out who she
was? Red Cloud was somebody in all facets of her life -- professionally, in her hobbies, everything. And this kid, like you, is nothing more than a
sucking leech, screeching out a miserable living on someone else's accomplishments."

What...?

"Oh do shut the Christ up. Do you think I hadn't figured it out yet? You're obsessed with me! Look at you! I wore an outfit like that, once, years ago to
ask Red Cloud out on a date. And you're here replicating it? You think you have the moral high ground while in cargo pants?"

The boy!

"Yeah. The boy."

He lives -- or dies -- by your word. Choose!


Lair of the Red Wraith
The Wraith's Lair has shifted slightly -- Red Cloud is no longer here. Instead, the Wraith is wearing a British lawyer's wig and full suit, while before a
badly-beaten boy that can't be any older than sixteen. It looks like he has a shell placed in order to stop me from giving him the beating he so
deserves.

The Red Wraith is here.

>t wraith
Please select one:


(1)>"Let him live. He's going on trial."
(2)>"Kill the motherfucker."


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
1


You're such a compassionate sort, aren't you, Avenger? I think you will not continue to be any longer after seeing this...

The Red Wraith leaps from behind his shell. He grabs my arm and stares into my face with his lone eyeball. His jaw goes slack as he transmits an
image into my mind...

Red Cloud walked towards the alley where she was supposed to meet the boy who had contacted her within the computer game Faith III where
they met. Somehow she had figured out her identity and she had to take care of this problem quickly, quietly, or anyone remotely clever would be
able to trace the fact that Marc was the Holy Avenger through her. The boy has mentioned that he was suicidal, that he couldn't continue to live
under his parents and their rules and their constant, random discipline.

She felt that she could awaken his faith. To introduce him to the miracle of Jesus Christ. So she entered the alley outside the housing complex
where the boy lived and saw him standing alone with the end of a shotgun in his mouth.

She pleaded with him to take the gun away. She hadn't expected to meet him like that, but everything he said was true. The boy shook his head in
the negative, effectively telling her that he wasn't going to remove the gun. She slowly walked to him. She passed a pile of cardboard boxes and
garbage. She began to turn herself into a crimson cloud in order to disable the gun from the inside. As soon as the boy saw the mist he briefly
removed the gun from his mouth. He shook it once, loaded two bullets into the chamber and said simply, "Stay whole."

Red Cloud nodded and stopped moving towards the boy. She became wholly human. Something broke apart in the garbage. She turned her
head, briefly, to the left and was struck by freezing blasts of liquid nitrogen and frost. It encompassed her head and she fell to the ground
disoriented. The boy laughed. He removed the weapon from his mouth and shot her in the waist. She didn't feel a thing. Her mind couldn't process
the information, swallowed up by the cold.

The boy went over to the white-armored man who froze her. She could still hear everything they said but it was as if she was within a forgotten cave.
The boy took out a digicam and began photographing her. She struggled to change form but her body wouldn't respond. He started taunting her,
asking her to pose herself, to pout her lips. He ripped off all her clothes and kept taking pictures. The other man blasted her in the head again and
she began to slowly suffocate; she never needed much air to breathe but was rapidly running out.. The boy raped her as she lay against the
chunked-up pavement, never breaking eye contact.

He called her a slut, a whore, a filthy, stupid Jesus-freak cunt who finally got what was coming to her. He finished himself inside her and fetched his
gun. Still, Red Cloud kept fighting, kept looking for a way out, kept trying to live off the breath she had. She finally felt a shock as the boy blew away
her left leg. He loaded the gun again. He shot her chest. Again. She saw bits of her right arm splatter against the frozen ball of ice her head was
entombed in. He brought the gun down towards her neck. He winked at her and pulled the trigger. 

Finally, everything for Red Cloud went black.

I wake up from the Wraith's vision on my knees, sobbing. The Ameba had broken through the ceiling of the Lair and waited for me to regain
consciousness. "Holy, are you okay? The corpses became inanimate a few minutes ago... I came down here looking for you. It's over. What did he do
to you?"

>up
The Ameba morphs his body into a slippy, amebic rope. I climb it and get out of the Lair.


St. Columba Memorial Cemetery
I am within a cemetery that has been turned into a battleground. Markers continues to line the scene to the east and west.


>z
Time passes...
Pabski sneezes.

"Bless you," says Jenn.

"The hell? I feel terrible all of a sudden... " Zeke looks up past my head. "Holy Living Fuck! Look out! It's fuckin' Mucous!" Zeke is cut off at that point --
he gets smashed by a giant fist of Mister Mucous. The rest of us scatter in an attempt to form an attack. Mister Mucous is incredibly difficult to
effectively fight -- he's brash, cruel, creative and a terribly aggressive and vicious enemy.

Unfortunately for him, though, so am I.

Mucous takes a wild backhand at the Succubus and hits her. She goes hurdling through the air for a couple hundred yards before suddenly falling to
the ground like a gassed fly. She lands somewhere past the Cemetery, near the entrance, and seemed to hit the ground with full-force.

"You sick fuck!" screams Pabski. "I'll fucking waste you, motherfucker!" Johnny and I try maneuvering around to different sides of him but I don't know
how we're going to attack him. When I've beat him before, Mucous was in an enclosed area and couldn't get up so high. Ameba changes to his
liquidish form in order to counter attack.


>look

St. Columba Memorial Cemetery
I am within a cemetery that has been turned into a battleground. Markers continues to line the scene to the east and west.

I can hear Mister Mucous laughing through his vocal transmitter. He fills Johnny's lungs with snot. Johnny starts hacking and coughing grotesquely in an
attempt to get it out of his system. Mucous covers the Ameba with what seems to be a ton of nasal fluid. I can't see Ameba here anymore. He picks up
Zeke and tosses him far from me -- he hits the Water Tower and drops down to the earth. He looks kind of stunned from here. Mucous pauses when
he sees I'm the only one left.

"No idea how much you know, Venger, but I'm sure the city's greatest 'detective' -- " He makes an exaggerated symbol of quotation marks with his
snot-riddled hands -- " has figured it out by now. I gave the order and reward to kill your bitch but you? You I'm going to do myself." Instantly a barred
prison of his making surrounds me. I try to break apart the bars but can't -- I don't know what they are made out of but I can't snap them. He then has a
yellowish goop trickle down from the top of his cell. He's going to suffocate or squash me alive!


St. Columba Memorial Cemetery, in the cage
I'm trapped in some kind of mucous cage. There seems to be two components of it -- vertical bars that form the prison's shell and some kind of oozing
goop Mucous is adding to block the flow of air.


>put pipe through cage
I stick the pipe through a couple of the bars. It gets through most of the way, but not completely. I still can't get any air out of it this way. It seems as if
there is a membrane of Mucous' goop that is covering the end of it.


>blow into pipe
I blow through the pipe in an attempt to get some air from outside. Nothing seems to happen for a little bit, but after giving it a full lungfull I hear a faint
"popping" sound -- the fact that what I just did was apparently blow the world's biggest snot bubble is, frankly, too disgusting for me to really ponder
right now. I take the deepest breath I can in order to hold out in case Mucous realizes that he's not suffocating me.


>save
Saved.

>g
Unable to save.

>blow into pipe
I get some more air through the pipe.


>g
I get some more air through the pipe.

I take another breath from the pipe. I'll be OK for a little bit.


>g
I get some more air through the pipe.

A blast of force knocks me against the cage. I look up to only see the whitish liquid dysentery that is the Ameba. He expands himself and blows away
the cage. In doing so he scatters himself into thousands of bits across the Cemetery. I know it'll take him a while before he can get himself back
together. For whatever reason Mister Mucous goes towards the Cemetery entrance.


St. Columba Memorial Cemetery
I am within a cemetery that has been turned into a battleground. Markers continues to line the scene to the east and west.


>w

West of the Graveyard
This is the western section of the graveyard. From here, I can see that a Water Tower, covered in graffiti, is to the northeast. There are a few
tombstones scattered about but really, nothing else of note.


>ne

Beneath the Water Tower
At this point, the graveyard fence breaks down and allows passage into a field. The field is dominated by a giant cyan water tower.

Mister Mucous soars over to the eastern section of the grave, presumably looking for me. I'm the only member of the team still on his feet -- although
Pabski could be regaining consciousness near the Water Tower. It looks like Mucous is carrying some sort of iron cube... now that I look towards the
Cemetery entrance, it appears as if he ripped apart the gate!


>t zeke
Please select one:


(1)"Zeke, can you drop this Water Tower on Mister Mucous?"


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
1


"What?" says Pabski. He's still a little groggy from being tossed against it by Mucous.

"Listen to me, Zeke. The water in that tower can dissolve the amount of fluid he's putting out right now. We've got to do this just right, OK? I don't have
the strength to topple it, but you do. Can you do it?"

"Yea," says Pabski. "I can." He goes behind the Tower and starts ripping apart the support beams that are holding it in.

"I'll give you the word when he gets closer, Zeke. I think he's getting closer!"

Mister Mucous moves over to the Water Tower, still holding his makeshift 'cell.'


>g
Please select one:


(1)"Zeke, knock over the Water Tower! Now!"


Select a choice or 0 to keep quiet.>>
1


Pabski rips away the last chunk of metal and pushes the Water Tower before Mister Mucous. Mucous neatly dodges the giant reservoir itself by
backing himself up. The force of hitting the ground is enough to knock off the shell that holds the enormous amount of drinking water in the Tower. It
splashes out over the Cemetery, knocking down tombstones, drenching the open graves and washing away the tons of snot that Mister Mucous
created around himself. 


>look at mucous
Mister Mucous is completely covered in snot due to a malfunction of part of his regulatory system. The goo completely covers his body and he seems
to be able to generate hundreds of pounds of it at will -- theory is that he turns the water in the air into his slime. He breathes and speaks through a
type of helmet that apparently dissolves enough of the snot to be visible. He is always carrying several dozen instances of the common cold or flu and
generally infects anyone with those diseases by touching or striking them.

He is currently knocked unconscious.


Beneath the Water Tower
I am beneath a city water tower in a field north of the Cemetery.

Mister Mucous is here.

I walk over to where Johnny was beaten down. Snot seems to be running from every pore in his body. Though he's almost completely filled with it he
somehow had been getting just enough air to survive. I give him mouth-to-mouth and help get his lungs in almost completely functioning order. He
starts wheezing and coughing and begins blowing the crud out of his lungs on his own.

Zeke eventually finds Jenn. She was tossed past the Cemetery entrance and into the street. She was hit once by a car and that ended up tossing her
over to the curb. Her right wing is shredded -- she doesn't seem to be able to use it -- and she broke her left leg and wrecked both of her patellae. But
most importantly, she is alive. I don't know if she'll ever be the same, I don't know if she'll fly again but she's here. With us. With me.

By the time the four of us returned the Ameba had reformed himself. He looked like he lost a lot of weight... his body was just a ghost of what it was
before... but he wouldn't acknowledge it. He just didn't care and said it didn't matter.

We gather up Mister Mucous' body and take him down to the police station. They keep him knocked out on some kind of depressant so he can't
power up and attack again. The cops wanted us to all stick around, make statements, something, I don't really know. We left, though. If Red Cloud
wasn't worth or didn't deserve any justice -- if they truly felt that the fact that we all put on these masks and try to take down these incredibly dangerous
thugs that we've seen develop around us -- then I don't want any part of them.

The five of us go our separate ways. I take a couple weeks off before going back to work...

Three months later....

I wake up in my apartment to the sounds of a blattering rain hitting the skylight. I passed out on the kitchen floor again. I tried getting myself up from the
linoleum but my right hand wouldn't budge. As I scratched the sleepgoo out of my eyes with my free hand I saw that it was stuck to the floor in a puddle
of my own dried blood. A lot of mornings begin this way lately.

Getting it unstuck re-opens the wound, so I try to find some bandages. I hit the button on my answering machine. It was Jenn -- the five of us left in the
Scourge Squadron are apparently having a meeting and they want me to show up. It had been a while since the last time I checked in but they were
well aware of what I had been up to. I've been on kind of a spree.

I enter the desolate former warehouse we have taken up as a kind of office or headquarters at around two or three in the afternoon. Everyone else
was already there. Johnny comes up to me and asks if I'm okay. I just shrug. He tells me that the jury broke on the trials of Snowman, Sparky and
Mister Mucous. I knew that the jury had gone into deliberation but I was trying to keep myself unaware of the progress of the trial.

Because we wouldn't take off our masks and go under oath the prosecution had a very difficult time establishing a case. They ended up having to offer
Snowman a deal. They searched for the HaX0r -- all he was really, technically 'guilty' of was data manipulation, which was hardly a crime, but he had
completely erased any sort of determinable trace of his existence. Snowman sang like Freddie Mercury. He filled them in on every single detail that he
was personally aware of. He tried to paint himself as a victim, of course. That was to be expected. But he provided more than enough evidence to put
Sparky and Mucous away for a long time.

I just didn't know if the jury would see it that way.

Johnny tells me that I had some character witnesses. That backpack toting kid was apparently impressed with the fact that I gave him a box of those
silly cards. And Raghib, of course, went to bat for me. I guess it helped. He got the point across that it would have been ridiculously easy for me to kill
all three of them. I had cause, opportunity, everything. He knew that I believed in the sanctity of life no matter how much evidence presented itself to
sway me.

The five of us heard the verdict hunched around the small television set that we placed in the headquarters. Snowman received two years of
probation. I was expecting that, but it still made my blood boil. Jenn put her hand on mine. Mucous was sentenced to life without the possibility of
parole for ordering Red Cloud's execution. Sparky was sentenced to death for the torture, rape and murder of Red Cloud.

"Young Sparky will be able to meet Old Sparky," said Zeke. "It's a vicious family cycle."

Reaction amongst the team was mixed -- politically we all don't share the same views on capital punishment. But we did all agreed that something
had to be done to keep Mucous from busting out of whatever prison they put him in. I didn't know what to think concerning the kid. I could have had him
killed myself just by asking the Wraith to do it. I told my friends that I was going to need the night off and went home to catch up on some sleep.

When I awoke, Jenn was waiting by my bed.

"You've been going out alone lately," she said. I nodded. "You've been beating these psychotics down without a bit of compassion." Again, what she
said was true. "And yet, you did everything you could to protect Jelena from what happened to her." At that I shook my head, firmly in the negatory.

"It's true..," said Jenn. "Look, Marc, Red Cloud told me once that when two people are totally and completely in love there is no need to even say the
words stating that fact. Or to need to verbally express it. It should be understood. I didn't agree with that at the time. I think she realized that. She didn't
press the issue; it was just a belief of hers that she was content with. However, what you've been doing since she died seems to be completely
validating that belief." I cock my head to the side, questioning, not sure what she means.

"Your love for her does not get any greater when you 'break another crook's face.' And your love for her does not diminish if you go a night without
beating the bad guys senseless. Your love for her does not fade if you simply go a few moments without bringing up the pain of the past. She doesn't
need to be here on this planet to know that you still care, Marc. She doesn't need a trophy room full of scalps or for you to solve every crime committed
in this borough by hitting people with a lead pipe. It doesn't need to be stated like that, Marc. She knows. Wherever she is, she absolutely knows.

I nod and accept what Jenn has to say. She seems somewhat satisfied with that, for the moment. Baby steps, I guess. She tells me that she'll check
back in with me in a coupledays. I tell her that's a terrific idea.

I go back into Red Cloud's bedroom and kneel at her bed. I clasp my hands together and pray. Jelena, my love, I hope to God every day of my life that
somehow my prayers get to you. You should know that I will never forget you, never let you fade from my mind. But I also think you'd want me to begin
to smile again. And I think that I'm going to try.

I get up from her room. I get myself some pop and sit down at the couch. Someone's car alarm goes off outside my apartment. It's a whiny, mewling
screech that utterly fails to elicit a response of sympathy from me or my neighbors. This would be the fourth time in as many days it went off. I shake
my head in disbelief at this city and turn on the holo. I don't know if I can keep living here. In this constant urban decay.

The only thing worth watching is that old Gary Cooper movie, 'Pride of the Yankees.' Ah, yes. The New York Yankees. Is there any concept that more
fully symbolizes the City? I quietly smile to myself and shrug. Maybe things will be OK after all. I still have friends here, I still do something that matters
every single day even though my Jelena isn't here to share it with me. I guess, maybe, I begin to feel a little better. Maybe all it'll take is just a couple
hours to watch a movie with a happy ending.


*** END OF SESSION ***

You scored a total of 90 out of 100, giving you the rank of Gleek.

The game has ended.  Do you want to (R)ESTART, R(E)STORE a saved game, (U)NDO your last turn, or (Q)UIT? q
