Darkness....

    Many of the children being held hostage by the 'Defenders of Civil Liberty' cried softly as the teachers did what they could to comfort them. Mary Phillips did her best with her little entourage, hugging them close to her to shield them as well as she could. She'd started this gig straight out of college, and loved each of these children dearly. She whispered to them to help keep their spirits up, as well as her own.
    "Miss Mary, I'm scared," whimpered one of the little girls.
    "Shhh... It's alright, Connie," cooed Mary softly. "Just be brave. Help is on the way, I'm sure of it."
    "Do you think the Angel will come save us?" asked another of her charges.
    "I don't know, Sean," sighed Mary. "But we can hope, right?"
    "Right!"
    Mary smiled as she tousled Sean's hair. She'd long since stopped believing in things like angels, but if the kids needed something like that to focus on, she was willing to play along. 'God, if you're listening,' she prayed, 'please help me protect these children.' Hopefully, this nightmare would be over soon...

    Blair pranced around on pins and needles as his legs got used to having full circulation again. He grabbed the bedpost to steady himself and shook his legs awake. That done, he decided that while Bobo forbade him from leaving, he did not do so for exploring the lair itself... 'Maybe I can find out something Jim can use against him?' thought Blair with a sudden beam of hope. Steeling himself, Blair walked cautiously to the door of his room and through to the hall... It was even darker in the hallway than it was in his room, so Blair felt his way along the wall to the next door and opened it.
    "Gah!" he yelped as the fluorescent light in the stairway slammed into him like high tide. He shielded himself and grimaced as his eyes adjusted to the sudden return of light to his existance. When he could see again, he gasped. The stairwell was covered with a sequential mural, much like the caves of early man... "Holy COW!" Blair whistled, awestruck. "Mr. Fiendish has no end of hidden talents..." He noted a strange name painted on a rock: Susan Clifton. Bobo didn't seem the sort to use a female name, but he didn't seem the sort to be artistic, either.  The mural was rendered in what looked like spraypaint - possibly Bobo hooked up an airbrush? - and were startlingly realistic.
    That was what scared him.
    The stairwell was a stunning rendition of a jungle scene, and off to one side he saw a wolf and a panther standing side by side.  Further along he saw a giant lizard break through the underbrush and confront the first two animals - chillingly exact in its parallel to his dream so many days before. Further along there was a battle scene as the lizard fought the panther and the wolf. The last pictograph made Blair's knees buckle...
    It was the lizard standing, spattered with blood, on the carcass of the panther - with the carcass of the wolf seized in it's deadly jaws. Blair recoiled from it, and then forced himself to look again. He HAD to understand what it was he and Jim were up against. Then his eyes saw something on the lizard that immediately identified it... A dagger-like foreclaw on the feet, used for ripping prey, could only make it ONE thing...
    "A velociraptor...," breathed Blair fretfully. "Known to be the most ruthless, intelligent predator to walk the earth before man..." He recited the archaeological data - long thought forgotten - with alarming clarity. Blair's senses reeled. If such an animal existed today, there was _nothing_ out there in the jungles of this time period that could stop it... It's thick hide was armor-tough. A theoretical sustained pursuit gait over 50 miles an hour. Believed to be as intelligent as a porpoise, easily, and every thought was of PREY.
    Because to it, everything WAS.
    Blair anxiously considered the totem animals that he and Jim had... The wolf meant intelligence, purpose, and loyalty... The panther meant courage, diligence, and power... These were up against Bobo's totem, which was a VELOCIRAPTOR... What did a goddamn RAPTOR signify?
    DEATH. Naked, brutal DEATH.
    And Guile... Guile? What was guile, really? Not just intelligence, but a dark application of it. Not deceptiveness, per se, but making another think or believe things through sheer force of personality. It was obvious that Bobo had that in SPADES, and also that he knew more than he let on. He was just leading them around by the nose for GRINS!
    It was becoming more and more obvious that his Blessed Protector was WAY out of his depth... Maybe they BOTH were.

    Jim struggled to his feet a third time, focusing on the sights and sounds to the point of pain... He heard steps outside, approaching... Lightly. Obviously someone was coming that wasn't supposed to be there. Jim's hackles rose and he instinctively grabbed the first thing he could use for a weapon to protect himself.
    A bedpan.
    The door to his room opened slowly, as if whomever it was was wary of the possible threat. Jim gripped the bedpan and held his breath, waiting for a clear shot at the intruder. A young woman stepped in that Jim immediately recognized. "YOU!" he blurted.
    It was the woman that Bobo first saved from those four guys that wanted to rape her. She looked at Jim blankly and then stated in the same shellshocked monotone she had when they spoke with her before, "The Angel requires the presence of the Shaman." She looked around the room, as if expecting someone else to be there. "Is the Shaman here?" she asked.
    "I... I guess that's me," said Jim, poleaxed. "What does he want?"
    "The Shaman."
    "What for?"
    "The Angel did not say. Only that I was to find the Shaman in this room and bring him hither to him."
    "Where is that?"
    "Where the children play until they learn to hate."
    "You're gonna have to be more specific..."
    "I cannot."
    "Try."
    "No."
    "Why? Why can't you tell me where?"
    "There is no need."
    "What makes you say that?"
    "Because you already KNOW where."
    Jim stopped in his tracks as realization struck like a thunderbolt. "King Daycare!" he exclaimed. "It's on the border of the Badlands, and children from the families of all of the gangs are there! How does he know what's going on there? How does he know that I'm here? How does he know that I'd recognize you?"
    "He is an Angel," shrugged the woman as she dropped a plastic shopping bag at Jim's feet. Jim recoiled, instinctively raising the bedpan to shield himself in case the bag contained a bomb. Jim looked down at the bag, now spilled and open...
    "These are... These are my clothes... From my HOUSE," Jim accused.
    The girl nodded. "These are more suitable for an audience with the Angel than your current garb, yes?"
    Jim suddenly realized he was standing in front of a woman wearing a hospital gown, and he covered up out of reflexive modesty. "Yes," he admitted. The girl sat down on the bed and motioned to the clothes.
    "Then get dressed," she said.

    Simon Banks was standing behind Taggart, who was fretfully sweating as he went over the 'surprise' Bobo left in the Internal Affairs Office inside the shell of a copy machine. Taggart stepped away, and turned to Simon, "It's a masterpiece," he said.
    "What do you mean?" demanded Simon. "Can't you disarm it?"
    "I suppose so," sighed Taggart as he pointed to a box on the device. "But that's the problem... That is a beacon. It's sending a constant signal to God-knows where, and I have a panel there with five lights on it... Add in more collapsing circuits and false leads and failsafes than in a Mad Bomber's wildest wet dream, and we have an ENORMOUS problem. The bombs are all tied in to each other, like a circuit... This radio beacon is tied to the timer."
    "Are you saying that if the bomb is disarmed, it will STILL blow?"
    "Nope. If -ANY- of the bombs are disarmed, then as close as I can tell... They'll ALL blow. This is incredible stuff, Simon... WAY beyond your average psychotic terrorist stuff. Hell, it's a struggle for me to see how it's set up - and I've been in the Bomb Unit for 20 years! Whatever this guy is, having him on the OTHER side is a definite handicap."
    "So, what can we do?"
    "Pray," Taggart sighed. "As far as I can make out... These bombs are set up to where they HAVE to ALL be disarmed at the SAME time... No small feat in itself, but when you add in that they're scattered all over the city... There's no way we can do it. We don't have the manpower."
    "Taggart, I think that was the idea... We're sunk..."
    "Unless..."
    "Unless? Unless what?"
    "Well... IF these bombs are all made the same way - which is a big 'IF' I know - then I could talk everyone at each of the locations through the disarming over the radio. Theoretically..."
    "That would mean we'd have to have total radio silence on everyone besides the bomb units... Minimize distractions."
    "Right, so we'd have no way to respond - or even KNOW ABOUT - anything else that's going on in the city."
    "That rat-bastard son of a BITCH!" seethed Banks hotly. "He KNEW that when he set this up... This is just to keep us out of his way!"
    "Well, much as I hate to say so.. He did a hell of a good job of it."
Simon glared at Taggart and swallowed before he spoke into his radio, "Attention, all units. Attention. This is Captain Simon Banks. All police channels are hereby declared off-limits to every officer except the Bomb Disposal Unit. No, repeat, NO usage of your radios will be tolerated until the threat to the city is handled. If anyone breaks radio silence for ANY reason, I will have you fired, your pensions revoked, and you hung by the neck until DEAD. This is NOT a test. Until you receive a missive from ME, you are NOT to use your radios. That is all. Commence radio silence.... NOW." Simon set down his radio and sighed heavily. "Okay, Angel, you got us. You're on your own..."

    "This pleases me," said Bobo as Haas fretted about his career. "As you see, folks, given a chance, EVERYONE can be reasoned with. Even such a contemptible creature as this 'newsman' and his ilk... That is part of the lesson. We have come to share with you the Message..."
    "What message?" said Haas. "All you've done is tear at the media..."
    "That is not so," replied Bobo. "We have only presented the face that such as yourself hide... If people are to accept what is presented, they must know their source..."
    "What about you? You have that mask on... What are YOUR illusions?"
    "For ourselves, the mask is more out of habit than necessity... Observe." Bobo slid off the half-muzzle, and showed a face that was splashed with scars - one of which ran the length of his face and over his right eye, which showed a milky white cornea. Haas recoiled reflexively, and Bobo smiled. "Though we feel that it is better for others to not see our countenance, as most are revulsed by it..."
    "JESUS!" gasped the three passengers, thunderstruck.
    "What... What happened to you?" whispered Haas.
    "We suppose we could run through the list of things, but such is a tedious recount of past injuries that have long since healed. Suffice to say that we've had some... difficulties in our time. The trick, of course, is not to let it beat oneself... We've all had our... difficulties, have we not? Some wear the scars outwardly, some inwardly, but all bear them... That is one of the Great Truths. Sadly, more and more people let their... difficulties defeat them. They refuse to accept the Great Truth, instead insisting that they are somehow OWED something for surviving hardships - even ones they bring upon themselves! That is not so, regardless of what Jerry Springer says... ALL are responsible for themselves and their actions. ALL. If you do well, you should be rewarded - but if you are not it is ill reason to do poorly next time. If you do evil, it should be punished - but if you are not it is ill reason to assume you can do so at your leisure. The absence of consequence in society has ruined it. Scientifically speaking, Newton's Law demands all actions have reactions... When they do not, the basic law of existence is nullified, and it's all downhill from there..."
    "What are you saying? That society is flawed?" asked Haas.
    "Do you READ the news, or just recite what is written on the teleprompter? Any FOOL knows society is flawed, Haas. The QUESTION is WHY?"
    "Alright... Then why?"
    "Because we LET IT. Everyone is so busy squawking about their 'rights' without a thought at all about their RESPONSIBILITY. Society, by DEFINITION, is a distribution of rights and responsibilities amongst its members. The vast majority are more concerned about the benefit to themselves, without a thought to what benefits they already HAVE. Look at how many people dodge things like JURY DUTY, TAXES, VOTING and similar as undue annoyances that are meant to infringe on their existence. Yet they are the LOUDEST protesters about the way things are... It is unreasonable to assume you should be paid wages without doing the WORK, yet so many do. The RIGHTS you have are your PAY for living up to your _responsibility_. If one will NOT do so, then they RENEGE on that basic contract. In effect, they are FREELOADERS. They shirk their responsibility, which leaves more work for those that do NOT. This builds resentment among those that do their share, which results in them eventually becoming freeloaders themselves - much the same as cancer spreads. Society is thus dying of cancer..."
    "Well, you realize that there's no cure for cancer," smirked Haas.
    "That is not so. Cancer, once identified, must be REMOVED. Removal constitutes CURE, as there are USUALLY no more cancer cells to infect the healthy cells... Then there's the OTHER cure..."
    "What's that?"
    "DEATH."

    The Dueces and 357's marched en masse from the playground, already some five hundred strong and picking up more numbers with each step they took. Gizmo and Damon were at point, with two Dueces named Antony and Kalil... Gizmo was looking ahead with a set of sports binoculars, and he gasped in surprise.
    "Whassup, Giz?" asked Damon. "Whatchu see?"
    "BAD shit, Damon... Real bad," muttered Gizmo.
    "Lemme see," said Kalil. Gizmo handed him the binoculars, and he looked forward... "Oh, shit," he said flatly. "Trouble."
    "What is it?" asked Damon and Antony.
    "Theres a mob and a half three blocks up and coming down... From THREE directions!"
    "WHAT!?" gasped Antony.
    "Dude, it's like that movie... Five armies marching to battle," fretted Gizmo. "What do we do?"
    "Easy, man," said Damon as he raised his pistol and fired three shots in the air.
    "What did you do that for?" demanded Kalil. "Now they know we're here!"
    "Exactly," smiled Damon. From three directions in turn, three shots rang out in acknowledgement. The group stared at Damon, and he shrugged, "I saw it in a movie once... They're here for the same reason WE'RE here... If you're gonna fight an army, the only way to do it is WITH an army... And we got FIVE on it."

    Blair staggered against a wall, still a little out of sorts from the pictographs. It was taking all the serenity exercises he knew to keep from hyperventilating himself into cardiac arrest. If Jim was going to lock horns with Bobo again - and if he was alive, he was definitely going to try - Bobo wouldn't just dole out a friendly, garden-variety beating like before. No, Bobo has already asserted that he was the alpha of the two, and if Jim refused to accept it - which he would, Jim was stubborn that way - then, much like the beasts in the jungle - their NEXT encounter would DEFINITELY be to the death... Blair dry-heaved from the thought... One of them was going to be killed, and odds were it _wasn't_ going to be Mr. Fiendish... He stopped suddenly, aware of a humming sound that was remarkably like a motor - maybe a generator? It was through a door to his left. Cautiously, he pushed the door - and found it unlocked. He stepped carefully into the room, and was grabbed by the collar and pulled roughly in and clamped in a bearhug. He was vaguely aware of a humming sound to his right.
    "FINALLY!" said a distinctly female, and distinctly HAPPY voice. "I was worried I'd have to come get you, but the Angel said to just wait here until you - and I quote - mustered the stones to come out of the box. I've been waiting a while, so I "
    "What? What the hell is going on? Who are you?" flustered Blair.
    "Well, in order," she replied as she released the hug. "I said, I was worried I'd have to come get you, but the Angel said to just wait until you mustered the stones to come out of the box. The Master Plan. Susan Clifton, third apostle of the Dark Angel and personification of the Second Guarantee. You're Little Brother, right? I mean, of course you are, you're the only one down here. Well, besides me, but that's obvious, right?" She turned away for a moment and bent down to turn off an air-compressor. "Whew, I'm sure you're glad that racket's over with, right?"
    "Um, what's that?" Blair asked numbly.
    "Air compressor," the girl smiled. "I airbrush. Maybe you noticed that animal thing in the other room?"
    "Oh, I... I actually thought..."
    The girl laughed musically. "Naw, hon. The Boss can't draw worth spit. You should see the map I've got to figure out later - and from a trained cartographer? Oh well, if he could do everything himself he wouldn't need Apostles, right? If you looked by the rock on the third panel you can see I signed it, but maybe you didn't..."
    "I... I'm sorry, this is a lot to take. Apostles?"
    "Yeah, there's three of us... I know, you'd think there's supposed to be twelve or something, but the Angel says he's not going to have people say that he's some sort of copycat. Besides, four's a crowd and not allowed... Isn't that COOL? He's so lyrical and cryptic it's mind-blowing! Even if he didn't save my life, I'd follow him right to the gates of Hell and bash the doors down. Which is sort of what we're doing now, but I digress..."
    "You... digress?"
    "Yeah... Sorry, it's just that he's so amazing you start to pick up the things he says..."
    "He? Bobo?"
    "Wow, you can call him by his NAME? You ARE the Little Brother! But I already knew that, right? It's just like being carded, sorta."
    "Uh.... Master Plan?"
    "Yeah. Nothing MAJOR, just the destruction of society as we know it... Care for some juice before we go?"