Jim came to in the hospital, and Simon was right beside his bed. "Simon?" Jim said weakly.
    "Don't talk, Jim... You're beat up pretty bad, and the doctor said you're lucky to be alive. I swear, we'll find the guys that did this to you and throw 'em UNDER the jail."
    "No. Just ONE. HIM. Was at... Kelso's. Waiting. Simon... It's a... Sentinel. Like me... But more..."
    The news slapped Simon like a bucket of cold water. "What the fuck are you saying?" hissed Simon through clenched teeth. "That that monster has the same senses YOU have? It can do everything YOU can?"
    "MORE... Wait... Water..."
    "Hold on," said Simon as he hurriedly poured a glass and handed it to Jim, who gulped it greedily. "Slow DOWN, Jim, nobody's going to take it away from you!"
    "GAH!" gasped Jim. "Simon, I have to get out of here..." Jim whispered.
    "Are you CRAZY!? That thing beat the hell out of you! You're in no shape to do anything..."
    "Maybe, but it still has Blair, and I have to stop it... It's going to sound crazy if I try to explain..."
    "It ALREADY sounds crazy, Jim," sniffed Simon. "That thing went at you like a pack of wild dogs. It's amazing you're not dead, considering he guaranteed he'd send any cop he found coming after him back to the station in a box..."
    "Well, I'm vaguely aware of styofoam... Lots of it."
    "Yeah... Like Kelso said, it keeps its word. I figured he meant a coffin, but he meant a BOX... Come to think of it, he never said the cop would be dead..." Simon shuddered as he recalled the third guarantee. "Jim, this is far beyond what we can handle... I've got to call in the feds - hell, maybe even the National Guard."
    "No! Listen... That thing could have killed me, but it didn't. I'm figuring it didn't really consider me a threat. It beat me up, but it was holding back. I don't know how I know, but I do... Anything broken?"
    "No," admitted Simon. "The docs say you should be back in shape in less than a week."
    "It's got to be sooner."
    "Jim, I know you want to settle the score, but if that thing really WAS 'holding back' and did you like this, going after it - especially at less than a hundred percent is SUICIDE. I can't allow it."
    "I'm not ASKING, Simon...," said Jim levelly. "I'm the only one that can stop it, and we BOTH know it."
    "Then we're pretty much fucked, Jim, because you just didn't measure up - and that was just him saying 'Hello'..."
    Jim grimaced at the reminder. "Simon... Listen, the spirits talked to me while I was unconscious..."
    "The spirits, huh?" said Simon, incredulous. "I thought Blair handled the mojo..."
    "Blair's busy," replied Jim curtly. "Remember?"
    "Fine... I'll humor you. What did the spirits say?"
    "Several things... Seek out the knowledge, which could mean anything. Others hunt the enemy, and I have to get their help - before the enemy kills them, too..."
    "No idea WHAT others, I assume."
    "When you fight the devil, it's best to use other devils... I assume there's some spooks around, since the spirits said they were akin to the monster... Maybe at that Military Facility?"
    "We'll look into it... That it?"
    "No. The spirits warned that time was short, as an army of lost souls was gathering in the enemy's name to oppose us. I'm thinking that the survivors of the attacks so far have more than likely been spreading the word, and that means trouble..."
    "No shit," said Simon as the implications washed over him. "People that have been kicked around as much as the folks in the Badlands did could be VERY appreciative of the man that made their world a better place... Maybe David Koresh appreciative. DEFINITELY not cooperative of any effort to bring it down, and most of them are already armed! Cascade could burn over this..."
    "Then we've got to crush the head of the snake - FAST."
    "Easier said than done," sighed Simon. "We have no idea where it is... What it's up to... If only we had some clue..." Simon's cell phone rang, and he looked at Jim worriedly. Jim nodded, and Simon answered the call... "Banks here."
    "Hello, my intended..."
    "YOU! What the fuck are you calling me for?"
    "Fun, mostly. But we were a smidge curious regarding your Shaman... We assume you received him intact, yes?"
    'Shaman?' thought Simon, astounded. 'It thinks Jim is BLAIR? Then that means... Uh oh...' "Yes," he stated, playing along.
    "Good. We'll assume he was a rogue that wasn't up to speed regarding our bargain... Otherwise... Well, there IS that THIRD option - if you'd care to see whether we can make good on THAT as well?"
    Simon felt more frightened than he'd even been in his life. "N-no... No. That won't be necessary. What do you want?"
    "Ah, good. A reasonable man, after all. This pleases me. Have you a pen and paper, Captain?"
    Simon snatched a pad from Jim's nightstand. "Yes," he said.
    "Excellent. Now to business... It is two forty-five in the P.M., I have placed surprises timed for five in five places, as follows: Ranier University's Main Hall, basement; the Washington Federal building, basement; City Hall, basement; Cascade Special Crimes Unit, fourth floor; and Ms. Dawn Capp's office."
    "Wait a minute!" shouted Simon. "I thought you said no innocents!"
    "We did. But these are hardly 'innocents'... Ranier's Main Hall at four thirty will house an Amnesty International Rally co-sponsored by the ACLU - fetid intellectual popinjays that coddle evil in the name of elitism. The federal building and City Hall are filled with weakling judges, lawyers, and dime-store politicos. Your place just for kicks, mainly - but you'll note that the fourth floor handles Internal Affairs - which we find deliciously ironic. The attorney I assume you'll visit last. Heh."
    "Why are you doing this?"
    "Well, let's just say we don't want any interference while we're about our business, shall we?"
    "What business?"
    "OUR business, as we've said. You have enough to contend with... Especially once you realize that over seven hundred pounds of Semtex mysteriously vanished from your lockup while you and the others were opening your present this morning... Heh."
    Simon Banks fought VERY hard to keep from vomiting on Jim, who seemed to go ashen with shock himself... "That's horrible!"
    "Evil must be punished," explained the Angel. "We cannot sit idly by while such things exist."
    "Those people aren't evil," pleaded Simon.
    "Nonsense! Those who SERVE evil ARE evil, PERIOD. Whether for money, as lawyers do. For power, as politicians and such do. Or for the sheer self-aggrandizement granted to vociferous 'activists' as gather in Ranier. All seek to serve evil, though most have deluded themselves to think it for nobler reasons... Politicians foolishly believe that through their creation of laws, they serve all mankind and make the world a safer place. The lawyer foolishly believes he will prevent martial law by using technicalities and loopholes IN these laws to keep scum on the street. Those in IA foolishly believe that by forcing cops to rigidly adhere to behavioral standards that all but neuter them, they can avoid police that are more fearsome than the scum they were enlisted to combat. The liberal believes that those who prey on society are simply misunderstood victims of circumstance. It's all so much masturbatory bullshit we can hardly believe it! NONE of them accept the truth..."
    "What truth?"
    "Take your pick... If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the PROBLEM. The road to Hell is paved with Good Intentions. When you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas... The list goes on, but I digress... Suffice to say that the world will be no poorer for the loss of such as these... I PROMISE."
    "You're fuckin' crazy!"
    "Yes, we know. Heh. But we ALSO know we have enough concentrated plastique to blow up the world. There's enough for EVERYONE, and to SPARE. Nobody leaves empty-handed... EVERYBODY gets a prize... It falls upon YOU to decide what SORT. So let's leave it a surprise, shall we? No attempts for evacuation will be tolerated. Time's a wastin', Cap'n... Don't fuck up. Okay?"
    "Okay," said Simon numbly.
    "Fine. You're welcome... See you SOON..."

    We hang up the cellphone and put it back in our pocket. Good, now they'll be busy with our surprises, which means we can make our statement to the public uninterrupted... It was a lot of work setting all those surprises, but we're used to working hard for the cause... We just don't have a flag for it anymore. But THEY will... A WHITE one. Heh. We look over our shoulder, and see that the newsvan is a little early... Such enthusiasm!

    This pleases me.

    Lee Brackett eyed Yuri suspiciously, and the Russian met his gaze with equal distrust. The plan was simple enough... Capture someplace defensible and wait for the Dark Angel to show up, and one of them would be the bait for the other to get the shot - which would be decided by coin toss best-of-three just before they set the trap. Lots of hostages all but guaranteed his appearance, based on the accounts of the few crackheads they could bribe into talking about this Street Level Savior. They still had far too little info on this 'Dark Angel' for Brackett's taste, and with no drug dealers within a ten mile radius of this shitbox neighborhood, there weren't anymore crackheads to lean on...

    Brackett glanced at Yuri while he applied his camo-facepaint, and the Russian smiled conspiratorially. Brackett was as sure that Yuri'd shoot HIM while gunning the mark as he was sure he'd do the same... Why split money with an enemy when you didn't have to? Brackett smiled to himself as he considered the kevlar vest he always wore... He bet Yuri didn't know about that little ace, and he wasn't about to show his cards. That just left the toss to decide their fates. He considered the plan again...

    Pretending to be some bullshit revolutionaries that were pissed about the suspension of everyone's civil rights under the Angel's new order, they would capture a daycare and announce themselves to Cascade via Citizen's Band - all but guaranteeing the Angel would get wind of it and come running... Brackett grimaced, as using little kids for bait was stepping over one of the last lines between him and that bastard Yuri, but kids and the people responsible for their safety made the best hostages. Kids were easy to scare, and the teachers would do all they could to make sure nobody got hurt... All told, it was foolproof... Since Yuri's accent was barely contained, though, Brackett would have to be the 'spokesman' for the 'Defenders of Civil Liberty'. He could handle that, easy. They had even written up a nice little speech for the 'Defenders' to announce themselves. It was almost like being in a Hollywood production, but for much bigger stakes. He set the CB to channel nine for the broadcast, and chuckled a little. Whatever this Angel was, he had no idea what he was up against... That street-monster shit might scare the bully-boys and wanna-bes, but against pros?

    SOMEBODY was in for a rude shock.

    Alfred Smith went through the rest of the schoolday in a haze. He was to be part of the plan... The Angel wanted HIS help in his Good Work. All he had to do was stand where the newsvan could see him, and the Angel would handle the rest... Easy. The bell for the end of seventh period FINALLY rang, and Al all but FLEW to the meeting point...He stopped short, noticing that the newsvan was already there, and Don Haas himself was standing on the curb anxiously scanning the rest of the student body...

    Looking for HIM. Al felt ten feet tall. A famous dude like Don Haas was looking for HIM. He stopped short. No. Haas was looking for the Angel. HE was the setup. The distraction. The Angel warned him not to let things go to his head, because he had to think clearly to achieve his purpose... He shook off the earlier euphoria, and set himself to the task at hand.

    Time to go to work.

    Yuri and Brackett were all dolled up in their fatigues, and they double checked themselves. They had between them enough firepower to hold off a small army, and the transmitter for their 'message'. They had settled on the Martin Luther King Jr. HEADStart Center that was on the outside limit of the Badlands 'border'... Sixty kids, ten staffers, and no panel windows. Cinder block structure right on the corner, so they could see everything that came at them... It was perfect.

    They drove to the site in an unmarked van that Brackett had squirreled away for just such an emergency. They had it all worked out. Take the building, set up the radio, transmit the 'message', and then wait for the mark to make himself a target... He checked his watch. Two forty-five. They'd get there well before the end of the school day, and if this Dark Angel DID exist they could be out of there by four with his head on a pogo-stick.

    What could POSSIBLY go wrong?

    Jim stewed in his room after Simon left. He KNEW that time was running out to stop the Dark Angel, and he was stuck in that drafty gown with a guarded door. Damn! He looked at the clock on the wall, aware of every maddening tick and tock... He shakily got out of the bed and stretched. OUCH! Damn! Back spasm! Ellison went down to one knee under the sudden shock of it, breathing heavily through clenched teeth to focus past the pain. Whatever that thing was, it could soak up pain with hardly a blink, and he was certain that it was a matter of focusing his senses - much like he could focus out background noise to listen to something a block away.

    He'd be damned if that thing was going to STAY more Sentinel than him!

    He concentrated, trying to mute the throbbing aches in his body with the same technique he used to listen at a distance. Peel it away, a layer at a time, and when you get what you want, hold on. He was becoming aware of things farther away... A nurse chatting with an intern about that stubborn cop that got hit by a car or something... A man angrily whispering threats at a candy machine that ate his dollar... Lee Brackett's voice on a radio... Some poor mother praying to God that her child would be alri- WHAT? Lee Brackett?! Jim backed up a smidge to hear what the FUCK Lee BRACKETT was up to...

    "We are The Defenders of Civil Liberty. We have taken the Martin Luther King Daycare in protest of the police department's invention of some 'Dark Angel' to allow them to do as they please. There is no Dark Angel, and there never was. It is a RUSE created by the BRUTAL, CORRUPT Police Department as a means of ETHNIC CLEANSING, and will no longer be tolerated. We are broadcasting on Channel Nine of the Citizen's Band as a way to make everyone aware of the EMERGENCY. If Cascade gets away with this kind of charade, then other police departments are certain to follow, and the next thing you know they've declared Martial Law across the entire country, backed up by the FEAR of this imaginary BOOGEYMAN.
    "It's not too late, yet... Take back the streets! Tell the police that you have RIGHTS, and that they can't do whatever they want with some hobgoblin to blame for their violent excesses! Take back the streets! Take back the streets!"

    Jim immediately remembered what Encacha told him... "Others hunt him, but they will fare far worse than you. Unless you help them, they cannot help you... Even now an army of lost souls gather in its name to oppose you... Time grows short. Before long there will be no stopping it." Could this be what he meant? Brackett was hardly someone concerned about preserving civil liberties, but he COULD be using it as an angle for something else... And if he DID manage to rally an army, then there was DEFINITELY trouble in River City - with a capital 'T' that rhymes with 'B' which stands for - STOP IT. Jim saw that his hands were shaking, and that last whirl past his brain told him that he was still pretty lumped up, but if Fiendish went after Brackett - which, based on what he knew, he WOULD - then there was going to be a LOT of good ol' fashioned DEATH.

    And he was helpless to STOP it!

    Don Haas was so amped up that he felt his heart would burst from excitement. The Dark Angel of Cascade was going to make himself known, and he chose HIM to go public with. Not Dan Rather. Not Ted Koppel. Not even Mike fuckin' WALLACE. He was going to use this piece to grab his DUE share of the bigtime. A share that he has been unjustly denied time and again... NOW he would make them BEG for scraps from HIS table. This Dark Angel was going to put him so far over that the network execs would build a SHRINE to Don Haas... Now if only this kid would show the fuck up... Six hundred kids in this school, and only ONE was the Herald. The flow from the doors ebbed, and then subsided - and still no Herald of the Dark Angel.

    "Son of a bitch... So this was a prank, after all," muttered Haas.
    "Nah," said a voice beside him. "It's for real."
    Haas spun at the familiar voice. "YOU!" he hissed angrily. "You said SHARP. I've been waiting eighteen minutes."
    Al held up his watch, which read three fifteen, "Then you came early. This is set by G.M.T., adjusted by timezone. The Angel said it was THE correct time, and I believe him."
    "You believe what this Angel tells you?" said Haas, slipping into reporter mode.
    "The Angel tells the truth," replied Al.
    "How do you know that?"
    "The Angel _IS_ the truth."
    "Hold on, lemme get the cameraguy out here for this... JEFF!"
    "Be right there, Mr. Haas... HEY! Whoulp!"
    "Jeff?"
    "Hello, my intended..."
    "Where's Jeff? Who the fuck are you?"
    "I-I'm here, Mr. Haas... This guy came out of nowhere and pulled me out the van..."
    "You can't run the camera AND drive, can you?" asked the Angel.
    "N-no..."
    "Fine. Then get in the van and start the camera." He turned to Smith and Haas as he opened the sliding door. "Gentlemen. Welcome to Bobo's Wild Ride... Heh."

On to the Next Chapter...