"If One is Good Then Two Must Be…"

(BtVS/Elements of The Flash 2014/Marvel Earth-10005/Marvel Earth-120703/Elements of Marvel Earth-616)

email: ryley[underscore]breen

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted material contained herein. They are each the rightful property of their respective creators and/or associated companies. I make no profit off of this whatsoever and I have no intent of changing this at any point in the future. I write stories like this because it's fun and because there are those who enjoy reading my work. Therefore I would greatly appreciate it if no lawsuits or other legal action were sent my way. I can promise you that whatever you get from me won't cover even a tenth of your legal fees.

Note: You can blame the DVD/Blu-Ray release of the infamous movie 'Deadpool' for this. I loved it when I watched it in the theaters and I loved it when I got it on DVD to watch. Couple that with the rapidly approaching Season 2 finale of 'The Flash(2014)' television series and my muse was interested enough to prompt me to start typing.

Note 2: This will essentially be a merger of the X-Men movie-verse and the Amazing Spider-man movie-verse with some elements of the mainstream comic book universe. The elements of the mainstream Marvel Earth-616 universe will be dimensional counterparts/analogs so don't expect them to be precisely like the ones in the canon comic book titles. The same for any elements I choose to incorporate from Arrow-verse where the television shows 'Arrow' and 'The Flash' take place. The former is intended to just be a base for characters, organizations and locations that were never shown on the big screen whether through cameo or text.

Note 3: If you want to make suggestions on which actors or actresses should play certain characters and have not done so already in existing movies then please sent them my way. It helps me write if I have a visual aid to work with.

If One is Good Then Two Must Be…

Nekhel Municipality, Sinai Peninsula, Egypt

M.F.O. Base close to The Fortress of an-Nekhel

Xander's POV

"OKAY, PEOPLE, LISTEN UP 'CAUSE I'M NOT GOING TO REPEAT MYSELF!" he yelled at the top of his lungs to cut through the idle chit-chat that had been filling the room.

Immediately everyone went quiet and looked at where he was standing beyond a podium with excellent levels of attention. Not surprising since he'd been a founding member of the New Council and one of its chief troubleshooters for the past fifteen years. That bit of information in your file made all kinds of people respect you, especially since he only had one eye and the life expectancy of most people in his line of work was five years at best. Sure, the pencil pushers and desk jockeys of the Council could easily look forward to becoming grandparents but for people who worked in the field, five was the most you could hope for. It was due to his seniority and the fact that the current problem was happening in his proverbial back yard that he'd been put in charge of the operation, with his trusty XO standing by his side.

"For the past six months there've been reports from branch offices around the world of major thefts of G-class artifacts from various temples, tombs and hideaways. For those of you not keeping up to date on your classification words, G-class artifacts are items with strong connections to various gods and goddesses in their region's pantheon," he said as he used a clicker to cycle through pictures of the items stolen on a flat screen TV to his right. "Some were even made by the attached deity personally and presented as a gift for their human worshippers. Without exception, all G-class artifacts are considered to be in the same weight class as conventional nuclear armaments."

"If they're that big a deal, then why didn't we have them under lock and key?" one of the Slayers in the seats asked, sounding like it was a screw up on the part of the branch offices.

"They were, Hicks," he replied, giving her a good 'do not speak poorly of your comrades' look. "Every one of these artifacts had ancient wards and more than a few booby traps set up around them in order to keep treasure hunters or grave robbers away. Considering that this is the first time those artifacts have been successfully stolen, I'd say they were all pretty impressive. Wouldn't you?"

Dana nodded her head in the affirmative at the question.

"Naturally when the first theft occurred six months ago, all branch offices were asked to keep an eye out for the stolen item as well as ask around to see if any of their sources knew anything. When the second artifact was stolen less than a month later, Head Watcher Giles became concerned that someone was trying for a complete set of artifacts or at least trying to get as many as possible," he said before clicking to an image he knew would put a choke hold on the audience's attention. "As a result, all branches were ordered to monitor some locations known to harbor G-class artifacts while in other cases two full Slayer teams were told to camp out around the only known access points that'd lead to them. This… this is a picture of what happened to the Slayer teams told to guard the 'Statue of Zeus at Olympia'."

It was an image he'd first seen in a briefing folder he'd received twenty-four hours after the attack in question had happened. It still made him shudder; the number of times he'd seen such scenes of brutality and bloodshed on this level could be counted on one hand with a finger or two left over. The image showed a large cave with various carvings and statues arrayed about and prior to the battle that'd taken place it probably would've been very impressive.

Too bad a liberal use of explosives and high caliber bullets mangled most of it before the battle ended it.

"Two teams of Slayers led by Watcher Wells were in charge of guarding the statue but the main branch building lost contact with them just before midnight. As per protocol all attempts were made to reestablish contact but when that failed four Slayer teams were dispatched to investigate with members of M-Division as backup. Total travel time to target location: thirty-five minutes," he said before holding his hand up. "Yes, I know we've got teleportation circles that can get us just about anywhere in the blink of an eye but the same wards meant to keep thieves out made popping into existence in the statue chamber impossible. When they arrived all but one member of the protection detail as dead and the survivor only stayed alive long enough to give us something she'd ripped off the sleeve of her killer."

Another click and an image of a patch with bits of torn fabric around the edges came up.

A bloody thumbprint showed the price of obtaining this vital clue.

The patch itself was fairly simple, showing a golden sun at the top with lines coming down from it and joining to featureless figures and at the bottom was your typical globe design of the planet Earth.

"Some kind of cult?" Hudson asked, her face scrunched up in puzzlement.

"Pretty much. They call themselves the Army of the Powers," he replied, letting a bit of bitter anger seep into his words. "Long story short, they consider themselves to be soldiers in service to the Powers That Be and are fanatically devoted to them. As far as they're concerned, the PTB can do no wrong and anyone who doesn't grovel in subservience towards them are sinners of the worst kind."

"But aren't we supposed to be the soldiers of the PTB? Slayers, I mean?" Gorman asked, sounding like she didn't quite understand.

"Officially we are and the fact that the PTBs still send Slayer dreams would indicate that, while we've torched a couple dozen of their plans since Sunnydale, we're still on the celestial payroll," he replied, looking to the dark-skinned Slayer. "Unfortunately the Army of the Powers are of a different opinion when it comes to us. As far as they're concerned we're traitors and blasphemers that should be subjected to weeks of torture before being sent straight to hell. According to Head Watcher Giles, the Army has always been a problem in one form or another but, up until ten years ago, they've never taken up arms against us. It's more been a case of propaganda and trying to turn various countries against us. That all changed when this man…"

With a click a slightly blurry picture of a fifty-something man came up on the projection screen.

"…split off from the main cult and decided to take a decidedly more violent approach to things. Basically he wants to wipe the world clean of all the faithless, us included, and build a paradise entirely in the service of the Powers That Be. At first he and those who believe in him would just attack Slayer teams in the field or try to sneak explosives into branch buildings. Fortunately, thanks to Head Wicca Rosenberg and myself, we actually learned from the mistakes of the Old Council and made sure explosives of any sort couldn't even get close to a Council building." He used the clicker to cycle through images of known Army members. "This is the first time that they've gone after magical artifacts of any classification. We figure they considered using tools crafted by anyone other than the Powers That Be to be sacrilege."

"Could someone be trying to set us up?" Vasquez asked, sounding suspicious at this last bit of news. "Trying to make it look like this Army cult is behind the thefts when it's really someone else?"

"Head Watcher Giles thought that, too, which was why he'd ordered our intelligence gathering teams to put out some feelers to see if anyone we now who'd want the artifacts was in contact with the Army. No bites. In fact, most of the sources within the various evil factions willing to talk with us made it pretty clear that their bosses wanted nothing to do with the PTBs boot kissers," he replied, privately feeling skeptical about some of the sources' sincerity. "So, until Council Intelligence finds something that says otherwise, we're going with the assumption that the Army is acting on its own and is responsible for the thefts."

"Any idea what they want with the artifacts?" Apone asked from her seat while absentmindedly running her favorite blade up and down a sharpening stone.

"One, and none of you are going to like it," he replied before bringing up the final picture on the screen. "On their own each artifact would be more than enough to do some serious damage to the Council, so there wouldn't be any need for the others. This told the eggheads back home that whatever they were planning was bigger in scale than blowing up a few branch buildings across the globe. It wasn't until the latest theft that they came across this scroll in the Old Council archives.

"Apparently, centuries ago, the PTB called a meeting of the various storm-affiliated deities to discuss the likely future of humanity. Most came but a few were still bitter over the decree restricting the level of interaction deities could have with mortals and basically gave the divine equivalent of the middle finger. The issue that apparently needed discussing was the precognitive visions and portents that'd popped up indicating that humanity could very well become strong enough one day to blow up the planet," he said, basically rehashing what he'd been told by Willow over the phone. "A proposal was put on the table by one of the Powers that the slate be wiped clean. Gather up a few of the more compliant humans, enough to restart the race, and then wipe the planet clean. Fortunately for all of us the plan was never enacted since enough of the deities and Powers believed in a 'wait and see' approach to keep the switch from being thrown."

"Let me guess: they made this doomsday weapon but never activated it," Amanda Dallas said, sounding like she knew the direction things would be going.

"Got it in one, Dallas. While the vote kept it from being used, they still thought it was a good idea to put it together and then hide it just in case after 'waiting and seeing' it turned out that mankind really should be wiped out," he said with a nod towards the Texan Slayer. "In fact it's right below the Fortress of an-Nekhel that to those in the know is a focal point for the local ley lines. A combo of 'nothing is here' spells and 'amnesia' wards have kept anyone from finding it but, based on how lucky they've been at the other G-class sites, we're pretty sure they'll get to where they want to go eventually."

"What do the bookworms think'll happen if these idiots actually manage to turn it on?" Hudson asked, sounding like she didn't think it'd go that far but wanted to know anyway.

"Pretty much your civilization ending global thunder and lightning storm. If you'd been born far back enough I woulda referred to the movie 'The Day After Tomorrow' as a solid example but since you haven't, I'll just say that we DEFINITELY don't want them to turn that thing on." A healthy amount of fear what Giles had described to him about what'd happen if they failed made remembering it easy. "So here's the plan: the gear is melee weapons and close quarters firearms. Body armor usually reserved for demons capable of punching holes in armored trucks. FM goggles for everyone. We go in pairs of two and keep our eyes open for little gifts to keep out tailgaters. We find the Army members, we capture whoever looks important and terminate anyone not important. If my patience wears out we plant the C4 that'll be in your equipment pouches on anything important or load bearing before hauling ass out of there and pressing the button. Questions?"

"What if they're already in the process of turning it on? What then?" Apone asked casually though he could tell that she was paying close attention for the answer.

"That is where second in command Summers here comes in. She was Head Watcher Giles' protégé for almost ten years before being assigned to the African branch. If the doomsday device is revving up, she'll be the one to shut it down. Our job will be to keep the army members off of her so she can do her job and, once they're handled, be the manual labor moving one thing or carefully extracting the other thing," he replied, turning to Dawn with a confident grin. "If she can't shut it down herself, she'll be able to keep things contained until our backup arrives."

"Backup?" Hicks asked with a little annoyance.

The Slayer never had liked having backup since to her it implied that people didn't think she had the goods to get the job done from the beginning.

"Me and the top brass hope that fixing the situation will just mean turning statues and stepping on specific squares in the floor in the right order," he said, hoping this smoothed things over. "However there's a chance that it'll require someone who's mastered the ways of magic. Plus there's a chance that all our activity might attract attention of the shady type, so bringing in another group of Slayers would be a good thing."

This calmed down Hicks, though he'd bet good money that she'd do everything she could to make sure the whole mess was cleaned up with a pretty red bow on top by the time the backup arrived.

"Grab your gear and meet us at the APC in ten," he said, looking at every member of his Slayer team in turn. "MOVE OUT!"

Without hesitation each Slayer stood up before heading for the door so they could get to the mini-armory that'd been unloaded from the plane that'd brought them here. He and Dawn would be following them in a bit but first he had to ask an important question.

"You think we'll make it out of this in one piece?" he asked, turning to face Dawn.

"We've survived annual armageddons, just about every evil heavy hitter on the planet and Buffy's deadly attempts at cooking," Dawn said with a smile on her face. "These psychos couldn't kill us if they tried."

"Damn straight!" he said, letting the blonde's optimism infect him.

With that the two of them followed the Slayers out the door ready to bring the hurt to the bad guys and save the world.

Again.

The Fortress of an-Nekhel

Dawn's POV

"Someone want to tell me why we didn't get here BEFORE they went underground?" Dallas asked through the throat mikes as the team proceeded carefully down the stone steps that led underground. "If they're ahead of us then we're playing catch up with no idea how much lead time they have."

"We didn't get here ahead of them because someone tipped off the Egyptian government about what was happening and they figured out that I'd be taking point on this operation," Xander replied, sounding a little exasperated. "It took some time to convince them that I'd do everything I could to keep any damage to their precious fortress to a minimum. As a result our plane wasn't cleared to enter Egyptian airspace for a while, giving the army their head start."

"Why do they have a bug up their butt about you?" Hudson asked with casual curiosity.

"It was about five years after we took over running the Council that Xan led a team into one of the pyramids to stop the resurrection of a vamp that'd been sealed up inside along with the pharoh who was the bloodsucker's figurehead. Too bad there were way more vamps there than Xander expected there to be and it was all the Slayers with him could do to tie up the minions so he could go after the head," she replied before he could close the lid on the subject. "Xander's report on what happened is a little vague but one thing everyone saw was that it ended with a large part of the pyramid caving in on itself and a lot of artifacts being blown to pieces. Ever since then the Egyptian government has made it clear that if anything happens that requires Council involvement, they're to send ANYONE but Xander to handle it."

"Shit! You blew up a pyramid?" Hudson sounded both impressed and incredulous. "No wonder they don't want you anywhere near another cultural landmark."

"It was not my fault! The vamp mummy had some major mojo chops and my P-90 was doing shit against him!" Xander protested just like she knew he would. "So I went with the only other weapon I had with me."

"How'd you avoid getting buried?" Apone asked, sounding curiously amused.

"Set the timer on the C4 for ten seconds, slapped it on some jars and lured Mister Wrappings right next to it before running like hell," Xander replied, sounding like it was still a stressful memory. "I managed to only just clear the last of the tunnels before they came down."

"Did the C4 do its job?" Vasquez asked, interested in hearing the conclusion.

"Yep. The vamp might be good with the mojo but ground zero to five pounds of C4 will kill just about anything," Xander replied with pride in being able to take down such a threat on his own.

"I still think those jars you stuck the C4 on had to have been filled with lamp oil or something," she said, adding in her own two cents. "Five pounds of C4 is not enough to cause that much damage on its own."

"Who cares? I went, I saw, I kicked ass!" Xander said, sounding like he didn't care about the particulars.

Point.

As they neared the bottom of the stairs Xander employed a series of hand signals that had long since become common knowledge in the Council. They'd been harder to learn for some people than others (#cough# Buffy #cough#) but their value became apparent quickly when stealth was needed around demons with really good hearing. The ones Xander was using at the moment basically said that they'd be advancing two by two with each set covering the ones that came next until the first became last, after which the new last ones could advance forward. He'd also told them to switch to the custom lens on their goggles that'd been magically modified to detect arcane energy and certain spell ingredients. She remembered when he'd compared the goggles to the ones worn by one Sam Fisher from the 'Splinter Cell' videogames and she had to admit they were almost identical save for the fact that the lenses didn't give off green light. The modified lens couldn't pick up everything arcane and in a magic rich environment they were pretty much useless, but for now they'd be able to warn them of any booby traps the army might've laid out behind themselves.

She was feeling an odd combination of cautious patience and anxiousness as they followed Xand's orders and made their way to where the doomsday chamber was located. She knew that they needed to move with caution so as not to trip over any traps but she was in no mood to see the world end when, with a little extra haste, the team she was on coulda prevented it. Still, she trusted Xander implicitly, even if he kept turning down her offers to become Missus Harris.

You'd think over twenty years of effort would've paid off sooner rather than later but it hadn't. Some might even say she should've given up and looked for someone a lot less resistant. What they didn't realize was that she couldn't see herself making it work with someone who wasn't in the know about demons and vampires. However, when it came to a list of available bachelors in the Council, most of them were old enough to be her uncle or were subordinates, so she'd chosen to stick to the one person who fit her criteria and she knew it.

In fact, if it hadn't been for this mission coming out of nowhere, she'd had a plan for breaking past his 'N-O spells NO' barrier but now it'd have to be put on hold.

Another good reason for giving these PTB cultists a thorough ass kicking besides the whole wanting to end the world bit.

It took them about ten minutes before they spotted light coming from a doorframe about fifteen meters ahead and, judging from its violent nature, she'd bet good money that they'd hit pay dirt. Looking to Xander, she saw him give the hand signals to remove their goggles and proceed cautiously towards the doorframe, likely so they could peek inside to see how far along things were. If the light show signified the beginning of the activation spell then they were in time to stop things before it hit the point of no return. If they were minutes away from the point of no return then they'd need to make quick work of the army members so she could get to work stopping in delaying the grand finale.

Once Xander was next to the doorframe he took out a simple mirror on a thin extendable rod and slowly put it in the light until it'd give him the best view of the room. With a few nudges he could get it to turn to the left, turn to the right and then straight ahead without exposing himself too much. It took a minute before he pulled it back in and began drawing a crude representation of the room's interior in the sand that covered floor. From what she could make out there was a half circle shaped pit on the far side of the room with a walkway leading to a central platform with some kind of table or pedestal on it. If the little dots he put in seemingly random places were people then there were three people on the platform and four on either side of doorframe, likely standing guard. Xander then gave the hand signal for Apone and Dallas to take the cult members on the right side of the pit before directing Hicks and Hudson to take the ones on the left. He then instructed Vasquez to stay by the door and support whoever wound up needing it.

That left just her and Xan to make it across the walkway to where the G-class artifacts likely were being used to activate the doomsday device.

Sounds like a plan to me, she thought as she watched her potential future boyfriend and husband count down from five with his left hand even as his right hand gripped his Atchisson Assault Shotgun.

When he crunched his left hand into a fist he charged into the room, the rest of them followed in close behind. Without looking she could sense the Slayers going to their assigned positions and, as was usually the case, the element of surprise helped in getting the first few shots in. Gunfire and screams of pain erupted into the air, letting her know that the cultists were on the defensive and experiencing significant difficulty, turning the tide in their favor.

Unfortunately the Fates apparently wanted the battle to last longer because a moment later she heard Hudson cursing with a crackle of energy following soon after.

Damn! Surprise has worn off and they're starting to fight back, she thought even as she followed Xander across the platform, her own Heckler & Koch MP5 at the ready.

She laid down cover fire as they approached the ones on the platform, more to keep them from completing any chants needed to fire off combat spells than anything else. She took care not to hit the pedestal since, even from her current distance, she could see at least three of the stolen artifacts, with the rest likely right behind them. She'd already worked out with Giles what the cultists intended to do with them because it made all kinds of sense once you thought about it. Given the global ramifications of activating the doomsday device there was no way the deities or the PTB were going to let it be possible for just anyone to switch it on. It was likely that it required the divine energy of at least five of the gods and goddesses involved in order to undo whatever locks kept the device inactive. Naturally, getting the real deities to lend their help was impossible, so the army members chose to steal objects imbued with the power of the necessary gods, intending to use them as a workaround.

It was tricky work but Willow said she'd be able to do it and to her that meant that the cultists stood a decent enough chance of pulling it off.

She was all set to take down the cultists on the platform when the universe decided to hand her and Xander a 'gotcha' surprise.

The second they stepped onto the platform, not only did the three people vanish into thin air but an energy barrier popped into existence, effectively trapping them.

Looking at the various artifacts, she waited, expecting them to vanish, but oddly enough they didn't and, when she reached out to touch one of them, she confirmed that it was tangible.

"SHIT!" Xander exclaimed, causing her to turn in time to see him yanking a smoking hand away from the barrier that surrounded them. "We've been played like cheap violin."

"Indeed you have, Mister Harris, though don't take it too hard," a cultured voice said as a robed figure walked through the entrance to the room. "Had I not been informed of your arrival in the area, your attack might well have succeeded."

"Informed?" she asked, not liking the implications of that term.

"Yes, but you'll excuse an old man his entertainment of watching you two attempt to deduce who warned me you were coming," the voice said before the robe's hood was pulled back to reveal a familiar face. "Suffice it to say I was even more surprised than you when they conveyed their warning. Nevertheless, it's proven most fortuitous since it has delivered to me the final ingredient needed to set the world right."

It was the leader of the splinter faction, the one who intended to end the world out of some fanatical devotion to the Powers That Be.

Never mind that the Slayer vision strongly indicated that the PTB wanted this prevented.

"Funny. With everything we've got on you, I expected you to come in ranting like a fire and brimstone preacher telling us we're all going to burn in hell or something," Xander said, using his best skill to buy her time to figure a way out of the mess they were in.

Looking around she could see that of the Slayers that'd come in with them, only Apone, Vasquez and Hicks were still standing, albeit at gunpoint from five armed cult members.

The rest weren't so lucky.

They were on the ground and still with Dallas sporting a bloody hole in her chest while the others were face down, so whatever killed them could not be seen.

So as far as allies went, they had three potential ones but only if their captors were distracted or disoriented enough to give the Slayers the opening they needed to act.

"Yes, well, since you were kind enough to bring us the final ingredient, I decided that being polite was the least I could do," the cult leader said, never losing his casual tone. "Besides, ushering in a rebirth of this grandness requires a certain… dignity."

"So you really think you'll be spared if you turn on this doomsday device? That the Powers That Be will snap their fingers and whisk you away to safety along with anyone who believes as you do?" Xander asked, working to buy her more time.

Looking around the edges of the platform she stood on as well as the specific locations where the mirage men had been located, she tried to spy any clue concerning what sort of magic they were using. Sadly much of the markings her instincts were telling her were connected to the mirages were already half faded, with what remained swiftly following suit. Some of it MIGHT have been ancient Greek but it wasn't something she was willing to bet on just yet. As for the barrier keeping them penned in, it looked like it might've been something that came with the room rather than something the cultists had brought with them. A security precaution left by the deities who built the place? Possibly. However it also meant that her chances of breaking it were not good since it usually took someone like Willow to throw down with beings of godly might.

"I don't expect you or your group to grasp the truth, Mister Harris. You've all made it clear that you have no regard for the guardians of Earth, so I won't waste my breath," the cult leader said with a bit of annoyance. "Besides that, the celestial alignment is nearly upon us and I'd rather not wait for the next one. Begin the ceremony, Brother Timothy."

With that the thugs holding Apone, Vasquez and Hicks hostage began forcing the Slayers to the edge of the pit. From what she could tell, placement of each Slayer was key rather than random and it caused some uneasiness to bubble up inside of her. It only got worse when half of the cult members, including the leader, began to chant in a language that she could only make out bits and pieces of. This was surprising because, where Willow excelled in sorcery, her claim to fame in the Council was languages. She'd worked her ass off for the last twenty years to master every human and demon language she could, with the only ones being out of her reach were the ones that hadn't been spoken in millennia or those that required a piece of demonic anatomy to do right. The fact that she could only make out bits and pieces of what they were saying meant that either they'd somehow learned a language that hadn't been spoken or passed down for thousands of years OR it was something they'd cobbled together themselves from countless known languages.

She didn't know which was the better possibility.

Things took a turn for the worse though when out of nowhere one of the thugs holding the surviving Slayers hostage shot each of them in the back with a round powerful enough to make a golf ball sized hole in their chests. Apone, Vasquez and Hicks had just enough life left in them to look at her and Xander before they fell into the pit of darkness, never to rise again.

"NNOOO!" Xander yelled in grief and rage, slamming his fists once on the barrier before the pain from the shock he received sent him halfway back to rationality.

Human sacrifice or Slayer sacrifice?

She forced her mind to focus on solving the problem rather than the sadness of losing the last of the Slayer team she'd worked with for the last four years. More and more she went through her knowledge of magic, of rituals and of language to piece together the framework of what the cult was doing and how the Doomsday device worked. Thinking about what the man said about them bringing the final ingredient he needed to activate the device, she didn't think the psycho meant Slayers. There were enough of them now, the world over, that snatching five could be done without raising an alarm or tipping one's hand.

No. The only person the Army of the Powers wouldn't have been able to kidnap without bringing a shit storm of trouble down on themselves was… her.

But outside of a very small group of trusted people, no one saw her as anything more than the sister of Buffy Summers and a normal human girl. As far as she knew there hadn't been a single incident since the final battle with Glory to make anyone think that she anything more than human. Yet, if there was some unique element that the cult needed to make their plan work and she had it, then it had to be the energy of The Key. Whether she actually had it or not the cult must believe that she had lingering amounts of it in her body and that it'd be enough to start up the Armageddon engine.

If this thing specifically needs Key energy to do its thing then that means it will react to it, she thought as she added what she'd managed to find out since her 'birth' about The Key.

The stories about it certainly went back far enough to have been involved in the creation of the doomsday device, even if the references weren't exactly specific. If the place was made to react to Key energy, then maybe, just maybe, she could use that to their advantage and give Xander a chance to turn the tables on the assholes. Moving so she was right behind her future husband, she took her combat knife and cut a bloody slit across her hand and then muttered a quick chant she'd learned from Willow. She wasn't a 'mojo user' as Xander called them, but everyone in the Council knew that some magic didn't require you to be a warlock or a Wicca to use it. This particular chant was meant to temporarily enhance your natural qualities like a sugar and caffeine combo gave you a temporary energy boost. Council field operatives were taught the chant for emergency situations where you needed to run faster than you normally could or had to solve a problem you were just shy of being capable of doing.

In her case she was banking on the possibility that any remaining Key energy would be woken out of dormancy allowing her to make her next play.

"I'M GONNA FUCKIN' KILL YA! ALL OF YOU!" Xander yelled, fury and grief suffocating very word.

She knew he was just play acting at the moment, even if he still felt the loss of their Slayer team. He might not know what she was up to but he still trusted her enough to provide a decent distraction so she could do what she needed to do.

"Unlikely, Mister Harris," the cult leader said even as his minions continued their work. "Once we are finished it's likely that you will be reduced to so much vapor, if that, by the surge in divine energy. I'm not afraid of harmless vapor."

You should be, she thought as she watched with glee as bits of sparkly blue energy began to manifest on the surface of the blood welling up from the cut she'd created.

Time to turn the tables on the asshole.

Xander's POV

Whatever you're doing, Dawn, you'd better hurry up! he thought after firing off another distracting promise of a messy death. I think we're running out of time.

Indeed he had been present at enough major league rituals to recognize the feeling that was building in the atmosphere around him and the glow that the artifacts were beginning to give off couldn't be of the good. They needed to get out of the energy cage surrounding them so he could take out the cultists while Dawn went to work undoing the mojo, or at least slowing it down until Willow arrived. However his two attempts at physically breaking it proved trying to punch or shoot their way free wouldn't work; they'd either ruin their hands or waste ammunition. That meant trying to find an off switch inside the barrier, or at least the mystical equivalent of a maintenance panel that could be opened up so the insides could be tinkered with. That was probably why Dawn had gotten behind him so the Army rejects couldn't see what she was doing.

Hearing the scrape of boot on stone, he took that to mean that the little sister of Buffy Summers was ready to let him in on her plan.

"When I give you the word, Xan, take them down hard and fast. I don't think I'll be able to make the window last very long," Dawn said with enough concern that he could trust what she said.

He just slightly nodded to let her know she'd been heard while just as covertly let his hands slither closer to his automatic shotgun. He had a full drum to work with so there'd be no trouble there, but the range on the thing wasn't the greatest so he'd have to dive through whatever window she provided and get into effective range as swiftly as he could. Hopefully his XO could lob a flash bang close enough to the cultists to distract them so he'd have the time to do his job. Seconds ticked by but, when she slapped him on the back in the classic 'get going' manner, he surged forward towards the cage just in time to see it destabilize with holes forming in it both big and small. The second he found one big enough for him to dive through he did so and, once he'd successfully rolled back to his feet, he sprinted across the walkway as fast as he could. With a smile he watched as Dawn had figured out what he wanted her to do as a black canister flew past him to land in the midst of the cultists. With a boom and a flash all hostiles were disoriented, blinking their eyes rapidly as though that might speed up the clearing of their vision.

The second he felt he was close enough he began to fire off shots to parts of the body that he intended to be instant kills. The doubt came from the fact that some of the Slayer teams that'd been assigned to protect the artifacts were former students of his and had therefore been armed with modern military hardware. Indeed, after the first decade or so you could tell who a Slayer got her training from by what weapons she preferred and how effective she was with them. While he didn't veto melee weaponry altogether, he made sure the Slayers he taught knew their way around Green Beret gear and weapons. Buffy's students tended to stick with what the blonde Slayer was familiar with, plus a few additions like communications gear and the goggles.

If these cultists managed to take down some of his girls then they either had surprise on their side and the skill to make the most of it, or some hidden advantage that the Slayers didn't catch onto in time.

His hunch was proven right when, instead of bloody holes appearing in the chests of the cultists, blue energy fields popped into existence a little under a foot from their bodies, stopping the shots cold. Likely the strength of the field was proportional to the kinetic energy being directed at it or the idiots would be able to walk, never mind pick anything up. However there was almost always a small list of flaws to energy fields like that and he had the perfect solution for it. Grabbing two blocks of C4 from his vest, he slapped in some quickie timers as he liked to call them before throwing them into the midst of the cultists who looked to be almost recovered from the flash bang grenade.

Too little, too late as the saying went.

While the fields protecting the cultists did stop any tangible objects that'd been accelerated by the blast as well as most of the fire, the concussive force given off by the explosions were another story entirely. Like a show he used to watch pointed out there were various layers to an explosion and, as the shock patches showed, a person could be spared the flames and the shrapnel only to die from the air pressure. As such two clumps of C4 going off did some terrible things to their bodies that the protective fields couldn't handle and down they went.

Bringing up his automatic shotgun, he cautiously advanced on the hostiles, checked the status of each of them without providing any that might be playing possum an opening to kill him with. Some were dead, blood leaking out of their eyes, nose and mouth, while others were just unconscious but likely in need of medical treatment. The only one that was still conscious was the leader and for a moment he was VERY tempted to change that as revenge for the deaths of the Slayers he'd lost, but the possibility that the bastard might know how to stop what he'd started stayed his hand.

"Okay, asshole, here's the situation: your men are down and you're in no shape to put up a fight. If you want to live to continue serving the Powers That Be, you'll tell me how to shut all this down," he growled as he hauled the cult leader up by the collar of the robe the man was wearing. "'Cause if you don't, I'll kill you right now and I'm thinking that being killed by a blasphemous sinner will keep you from passing on to whatever afterlife you'd want to visit."

"Fool! The Powers That Be know their true servants from the faithless!" the cult leader gasped out, indicating an injury that'd hinder breathing. "No matter what you do to me, I have earned a place in paradise! The Earth will be swept clean of the ungrateful wretches who think that they know better than those who sit above! Only the faithful will be spared and, once the planet has been returned to the paradise it once was, I shall live again to bask in its splendor! Too bad you won't be able to say the same, eh?"

"Then here's your express ticket there!" he growled before pushing the man hard to the ground, pressing the barrel of his shotgun to the forehead and pulling the trigger.

At such close range the protective energy field was incapable of protecting its user.

"Looks like we're going to have to settle this the hard way, Dawn," he said, feeling that the threat was over with the cultists either dead or unconscious. "Any-"

That was as far as he got before his eyes settled on the sight of Dawn still behind the imprisoning energy barrier she'd only recently helped him escape. He was puzzled as to why she hadn't made her own escape but it was only when he squinted to see past the energy of the prison that he spied the truth.

Dawn had somehow aged ten years in what was probably ten minutes.

"What've you done, Dawn!?" he asked, sprinting to the very edge of the prison field.

"Looks like the energy field is… quite hungry for Key energy," Dawn replied, sounding like she was rapidly losing strength. "Took more than I thought to get you out. Thought… thought it'd stop drinking when took my hand off but I guess I thought wrong."

"Fine. If breaking contact isn't enough then we get you out of there and try putting some distance between you and it. Everything has a range so we just have to get you out of its range," he said as he began looking everywhere for something that looked like an off switch or something that'd help him get Dawn out.

"No time. This thing's building to critical mass," Dawn said with a shake of her head. "Now that it's draining me I can feel revving up to firing strength. Gotta… gotta try to contain the energy or at least… reduce it."

"Willow can do that!" he said, not wanting to hear anything that didn't involve getting his XO to safety. "She'll probably be here in ten minutes, max!"

"Too bad… this thing… is gonna go off… in nine then," Dawn said as she visibly aged another ten years.

"SHIT!SHIT!FUCKIN'SHIT!" he yelled as he tried to pull a rabbit out of his proverbial hat just like he had so many times before.

No matter where he looked he couldn't see anything around the platform that looked like an off switch but then he realized that the cult leader must've activated it from outside and so he sprinted for the door. Once he was outside he put his tri-lens goggles back on and began to look like any kind of switch or panel or magical thingy that indicated it was connected to something active. Seeing a large symbol glowing the same color as the barrier trapping Dawn, he reached for his throat mike.

"Okay I've got a big symbol that looks like a very stylized double-u or a trident glowing the same color as the barrier and a series of smaller symbols pulsing around it," he said, hoping Dawn still had the strength to help him. "Ideas on how to shut off the barrier?"

"How many… smaller symbols…?" Dawn asked, sounding like she was having trouble speaking at normal volume.

"Uhhhh… about the same as the number of artifacts on the pedestal next to you," he replied after a quick count.

"Must mean… they're linked… to the… energy field," Dawn said, sounding weak and tired. "If we… can get… enough of the artifacts out… and away, it might… weaken the barrier enough."

Made sense.

Considering how important the artifacts were to psycho leader and his minions, they wouldn't have left them out in the open unless that's where they needed to be for the ritual. Get them far away and the entire ceremony should collapse in on itself while freeing Dawn at the same time. Only one problem with that plan…

"You sure you have enough in you for that?" he asked, letting his concern and fear show. "Somehow I don't think Buffy's gonna be happy about having to change the bed pan of her senile, grey haired little sister."

"No other choice," Dawn said before taking a breath that didn't fill him with confidence. "Now… get back here… not much time…"

Not hesitating he ran back into the room and across the walkway as swiftly as he could but when he arrived a part of him realized that he wasn't going to get the happy ending he wanted. In the time since he'd left the room to find a way to free Dawn she'd aged another ten years, looking more and more like a grandmother rather than a thirty-something woman with decades still ahead of her. It took her a moment to notice that he'd arrived but once she did she picked up one of the artifacts on the table before walking over to him. With a hand that was still bleeding, mixed with visible arcs of blue energy, she pressed the wound against the barrier, causing it to rapidly lose stability. Unfortunately, against his most heartfelt desire, none of the holes that popped into existence were big enough to get her out. With effort usually reserved for carrying an armful of books Dawn tossed the artifacts towards him and reflexively more than anything else he caught them.

Briefly looking down he could see that one of them was a small box with gold colored metal covering all its edges and inside he could see what looked to be electricity of the same color vibrating at its center. Another was a staff with an ornate copper head that would've looked at home in the hands of a Japanese monk.

Looking back at Dawn, he watched as she stumbled backwards until the only thing keeping her standing was the pedestal she was half sitting on. He could tell right away that disrupting the barrier was taking a lot out of her and, while it didn't seem to be accelerating her rapid aging more, he still didn't like it. So you could imagine his agitating when she turned to pick up another artifact, a large pouch filled with metal fragments, before unsteadily making her way back to him.

"NO! Dawn this is enough!" he yelled, trying to get her to stop and not do what he knew she was about to do.

"No… it isn't… gotta remove… at least one more… for this to… work…" Dawn said, somehow conveying the same Summers stubbornness she always had despite her quickly fading vigor and strength.

Before he could say more she once more pressed her cut hand against the barrier and then, as though she knew her strength would wane, tossed the pouch through to him quickly. This time, though, while she still stumbled backwards, she had not the strength or reflexes to grab hold of the table in time to keep from falling to the ground. The crack he heard and her howl of pain told him that the fall had resulted in at best a fractured bone, if not a broken one, causing his heart to spasm with pain in turn.

"Dawn…DAWN…!?" he exclaimed, unable to contain his emotions any longer

"You… you got… all I can… give you, Xan…" Dawn rasped as she slowly laid herself down onto the ground. "You gotta go… gotta get some distance… from here…"

"But… but you… I…" he stuttered, unable to get anything coherent out with the mess his emotions were at the moment.

"You've done… all you can…" Dawn rasped out as her increasingly milky eyes locked on his. "Now… run… Xander. RUN!"

Knowing it was something he had to do, he still felt extreme emotional pain as he got back to his feet and began to sprint back the way the team had come as fast as he could go. A part of him probably clung to the delusion that he could somehow run from the pain of knowing that Dawn, sweet Dawn Patrol, was going to die and there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening. The pain, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, both shot up and down his body with every step as he tried to fulfill Dawn's last request.

He knew not how much time he had left before the device went off but, when he saw black sky dotted with twinkling stars, he felt like he was entering the home stretch. When he reached the surface he made for the main entrance of the fortress and moved, determined to get through it before the device he'd failed to shut down fired. He didn't know how big a bang it'd make with the artifacts in his arms no longer in position but he wasn't going to take any chances.

He kept running.

It was as he got to probably the thirty yard mark that he heard a sound that had him immediately look for the source and when he found it hope blossomed from what had been a heart drowning in sorrow. Getting larger with every second was a troop helicopter and, even at its current distance, he could see the familiar insignia of the Council on the front.

Willow and Buffy! They'd arrived!

Maybe it's not too late! he thought as a smile exploded onto his face. With the triumphant trio together, there's nothing we can't do!

Too bad it was right then that some higher power decided to pop his bubble of hope.

With a blast that was far quieter than it should've been, a maelstrom of energy erupted from beneath the fortress, going up into the stratosphere at first but then expanding outward like a tidal wave. He only caught a glimpse of it before the energy overtook him, bombarding his body and mind with sensations, only half of which he could put labels to. Not only that but, if he wasn't so thoroughly distracted, he'd also notice that the artifacts in his arms were vibrating at an ever-increasing speed and power. By the time his body reached the limits of what it could feel before his nervous system would turn into kindling, the artifacts could no longer handle the shaking going on. All at once they shattered, releasing the energies placed within them long, long ago by beings as far above humans as humans were above animals.

In any other case the released energy would've obliterated everything around it but those who knew Xander Harris knew arcane energy regardless of the source never behaved as expected. For a moment it looked as though the divine energy would follow the laws of magic and science by shooting away from ground zero, destroying everything in their path eventually leaving the plane of existence to return to the god or goddess they belonged to. That was when things took a turn capable of giving everyone short of the Almighty a serious case of whiplash. Instead of flowing outward the energies instead chose to flow into him, merged with him, causing his veins to suddenly become energy conduits that glowed bright enough to be visible through the skin from time to time. Like a series of Christmas lights beneath the skin, light appeared then disappeared with no visible pattern and then something happened that only those on the approaching chopper with superhuman vision would be able to see and remember.

Golden lightning began to pop out of Xander's skin like the pus from a popped pimple but, instead of ending right there, the lightning began to take on the characteristics of streamers in the wind, fluttering this way and that at erratic speeds. If there'd only been one or two it wouldn't have been a big thing but one became three, became nine, and then became a helluva lot more. Before long there were so many holes in the man's skin that it began to peel away from the body like dried bark before disintegrating into blue specks before vanishing entirely. It would have been horrible to watch had this kept up right until there was nothing left, so it was a small mercy to both those watching, as well as Xander himself, when some higher being decided to skip right to the finale.

In a spectacular show of arcane energy the man who'd fought the demonic and protected the world dissolved into blue and golden specks before vanishing entirely. His clothes didn't make the trip, though, and dropped to the ground where the momentum of his running carried them.

Still, his efforts and the efforts of one Dawn Summers were not without meaning.

By removing those few artifacts from the chamber, the doomsday device created by the storm gods so many years ago could not reach any further. It coughed and sputtered as it tried to carry out its designed function but, when it found that it could no longer do so, the system spun down, returning the divine machine to dormancy.

The world was safe once more.

And all that had been lost were a team of Slayers, a brilliant woman and one of the bravest men known to mankind.

It was debatable whether it could be considered a fair trade.

Buffy's POV

"Willow, get to where Xander… where Xander was last seen," she ordered, forcing herself into General Buffy mode to keep from breaking down. "I want to know if he's… dead… or if he still might be kicking somewhere. If it's the former… we'll hunt down the rest of this cult and shut them down for good. If it's the latter, get all the info you can so we can bring him back."

"R-right. On it!" Willow said before running in the direction where they'd last seen Xander before… before.

The redhead was doing a passable job of keeping her emotions in check but it was likely the faint hope that their friend wasn't dead that was keeping the floodgates closed. If all their work eventually showed that their best friend was dead, then it'd all come crashing down and a storm of vengeance would drop on the Army of the Powers with unheard of fury. If she had any say in the matter, the core Scoobies would get their pound of flesh and she had a feeling that, despite his advanced age, Giles would surpass them all. It was no secret that her former mentor saw Xander as a sort of surrogate son, so hearing that he'd… passed on could very well bring out his Ripper side.

"Slayer team two, secure the perimeter and make sure none of those Army bastards are still lurking about. If you find them… use your own judgment on what to do with them," she said, knowing that at least three members of Slayer team two had been taught directly by Xander.

"Slayer team one with me! We're going down there and find out what the hell happened!" she yelled before gripping the Slayer scythe tightly and moving as fast as she could for the fortress.

She knew she should be more cautious, that she should follow the training everyone went through once they started adopting squad tactics and strategies, but all she could think about was: where was Dawn? Her sister hadn't been with Xander when he'd… vanished, so that told her that the man's second in command had to still be down below the fortress. The question was, why? She had long since accepted the fact that her little sister was in love with Xander and had actually been looking forward to the day when the idiot finally stopped fighting it. There was no way that she'd let Xander run away and disappear on his own. Dawn had the same Summers stubbornness as she did and that meant they didn't give up until long after the fat lady finally sung.

Was she hurt? Was she…

NO! She refused to consider that possibility.

Down the stairs she and the team went keeping their senses wide open for any sign of trouble or danger, and once they reached the bottom they began to navigate their way down the corridors to their destination. It was easy to find even without the directions Willow had put together because Xander had apparently been in such a haste to get out of there with whatever he was carrying that his footprints were clear as day on the ground. Before long she entered the room she'd been heading for and what she found was not encouraging: Slayers dead on the ground alongside men she presumed were cultists, also very dead. Looking around, she tried to spot any sign of the blonde head of hair that belonged to her sister done up in the style she'd seen during the vid-chat prior to the beginning of the mission. She looked to her left, to her right but it wasn't until she looked across the walkway leading to a platform on the far side of the room that she spotted something out of place.

She didn't know what it was but it was as good a place as any to go looking for answers.

Moving at a pace just under a jog she crossed the walkway but it was when she was almost at the platform that her movement slowed to a crawl. Laying on the platform was the uniform that all Council field operatives wore when they went into battle. Not long after the reforming of the Council Xander had put forth a motion to create from scratch a proper field uniform for the Slayers and any Watchers. It was specifically designed to be resistant to claws, teeth, corrosive organic liquids and a multitude of other things a person would encounter fighting demons and vampires. She could also see on the ground around the uniform a MP5 as well as other bits and pieces that could be found in a portable Slayer armory.

However it was when she spotted something golden amidst the dirt that the uniform seemed to be laying on that a dark feeling sparked to life in the very bottom of her stomach.

Stretching out her right arm, she was almost at war with herself, her instincts against her conscious mind, but still she pressed forward. With gentle care usually shown to fragile eggs she scooped up the gold from the dirt and pulled it closer to her eyes so she could see what it was. At first she thought it was just some common gold chain but as the dirt filtered through her fingers a locket appeared connected to that gold chain that was VERY familiar in appearance. With a hand that was almost trembling with rising emotion she opened the locket and on the inside she found two pictures that shattered her composure.

The first picture was of her mother that was taken at a Christmas party that'd been held at their house in Sunnydale the year before she died.

The second picture was of both her and Dawn the day her little sister got her doctorate in ancient languages.

She'd been so proud of her sister that day.

Now she would never see if Dawn could outdo that day somehow.

She would never see her little sister do anything.

Overwhelming grief and sadness washed over her causing her to not even be aware of the Slayer team that'd come in with her rushing to her side. She didn't notice them looking over her shoulder and seeing the evidence that explained why she was in such a terrible state. However they did notice when she changed first with a spark and then with a growing heat that made even the most experienced among them back up a couple of steps.

Where did this heat come from?

The murderous rage that was quickly consuming her every thought that's where.

The so-called Army of the Powers was going to die and die as thoroughly as possible.

And she was going to be there to see every last one of them breathe their last breath… one way or another.

A Higher Realm of Existence

"Well, that'll sweep away those idiots who think they're doing OUR will," Power One said as she waved her hand and dispersed the image of the increasingly homicidal Slayer. "Activate the Omega Storm? Ridiculous! If they'd done that the Almighty would've held us responsible and NO ONE would have survived that."

"Indeed. We might seem heavy handed and heartless but we're not fools," Power Two said with a disappointed shake of his head. "The Almighty made it very clear that human free will was paramount. We can manipulate environmental factors and we can color our messages as best we can without lying or omitting anything, but that's it. Any more than that and the Creator of All would sanction our collective asses or worse, turn us into humans."

"A fate worse than death considering what they see as entertaining these days," Power Three said, disgust in her voice. "So what shall we do about THEM? You know they had something to do with Alexander Harris' current predicament. That much arcane and divine energy being released should've been a one way ticket to oblivion, yet THEY intervened."

"They likely consider it their right since it was their divine energy that had been released, so they could do with it what they willed," Power Four said as he sighed in exasperation. "You know they all look for even the tiniest opportunity to defy the Separation Protocols and get away with it. They might abide by it out of respect for the Almighty but that doesn't mean they will pass up a chance to get a taste of their 'Old Days'."

"True. At least they abided by the ruling that any empowered mortal that could imperil the balance is to be expelled from this dimension. I would have preferred that anomalous human to have been cast into limbo forever but the dimension they chose is satisfactory enough," Power One said, sounding like she was willing to let this defiance slide. "Who'll notice one more superhuman there?"

"But what if he returns?" Power Two asked with concern., "With the power he's been given and the way it's been arranged by THEM, it is not inconceivable that he could find his way back here."

"You worry too much, my old friend," Power Three said dismissively. "It's called the multiverse for a reason, after all. The number of dimensions he'd have to pass through to get back here are numerous, too numerous for him to manage in his lifetime and, besides that, he lacks the senses needed to properly navigate the ether in between. It'd be as much random luck as anything else."

"Assuming he doesn't have help," Power Two said with a bit of a growl. "I find it suspicious that the Army's leader was able to get the drop on Harris' team the way they did. It'd be one thing if an official in the Egyptian government was responsible but the mortal's team had equipment that should've been able to detect any magic humans are capable of wielding."

"You think they had higher help?" Power One asked, sounding troubled by that idea.

"Or lower help. The beings of the various hell dimensions and their supreme lord and master know that the Almighty intends to nurture the humans so that they can eventually replace those lost in The Fall. It would be just his style to manipulate fanatics devoted to us into activating the Omega Storm. He gets us in trouble and forces the Creator of All into starting from scratch," Power Two said, not liking the implications his mind was coming up with. "If he's grown bold enough to try something like this, he might do something even grander in the future. We need to send him a message that makes it clear that not only are we on the job but fully capable of foiling whatever he tries."

"I'll get my division working on some options immediately," Power Four said with resolve in his voice. "And if this help came from a higher source?"

"Then we need to discreetly investigate matters in order to identify the culprit," Power Two said with an unhappy frown. "We cannot afford to look weak and divided. Not so much that the other side notices. If we do they won't hesitate to take advantage of the situation to make matters even worse."

"Then perhaps seeing to it that Slayer Summers and her Council stumble across the means to remove a few Wolfram and Hart branches, perhaps?" Power One suggested with a thoughtful tone. "Not enough to spur them into leaving this dimension but enough that it would loosen their hold on the mortal realm a bit."

"Possibly. We'd have to be careful, though," Power three said, sounding wary about the idea. "Push too hard and they'll retaliate in order to restore their damaged reputation."

"It's all about balance, my friend," Power One said confident that they'd be able to come up with an acceptable solution. "Through balance there is harmony."

None of them heard the amused chuckle that came after that statement.

They didn't hear it because while the Almighty might've taught them everything they knew, that didn't mean he taught them all HE knew.

Earth-131324

New York City, New York

Central Park, Late Evening

The Big Apple, the capital of the world, the city that never sleeps and many other nicknames are used to refer to the most famous city in the world.

For those that have lived there all their lives, however, it's simply home since they've long since gotten used to the sights and sounds of it all. Even at a location as famous and well-tended as Central Park most of the people who've lived in the city all their lives only notice its beauty when they're in the mood.

However that all changed when out of nowhere arcs of golden lightning crackled outwards from a central point a full six feet before disappearing. At first it was only three or four bolts but, as the seconds ticked by more emerged until their number equaled the number of spokes in a bicycles wheel and then, in a flash of light, all hell broke loose. A wave of energy that was a mixture of the colors gold, white and blue exploded outwards from the focal point of the phenomena like the shockwave of a massive explosion. Trees bent but did not break, lights flickered, glass shattered and, by the time the energy from the phenomena petered out, everyone from the New York Stock Exchange to Yankee Stadium was at attention. For some it'd simply been a light show accompanied by an unusual sensation but for others their lives would never be the same.

Less than half an hour later police arrived at the starting point of the phenomena, looking to find out what'd happened and why, but all they found was a naked man in his mid-twenties lying in a small crater. Attempts were made to wake the young man but, no matter what was tried, there was no response.

Some of the more hasty police officers just wanted to label him the source of the phenomena and toss him in jail to await trial for all the damage the energy wave had caused. However the more level headed of the detectives won the vote and so the young man was taken to the nearest hospital both to have his wounds tended and to see if they could find out why he wouldn't awaken. After all, they couldn't ask him questions while he was unconscious and if they couldn't ask him questions, they couldn't determine the nature of his involvement in the energy wave.

Evidence and reason before judgment was the order of the day.

New York-Presbyterian Hospital

Two Hours Later

"So what do you think?" she asked as she looked through the observation window of the room the suspect was in.

"Science project gone wrong, maybe?" Terri replied after taking a sip of her coffee. "Thief who stole something from Stark Enterprises or some other big company?"

"Maybe, but I haven't heard anything about high profile robberies in the last twenty-four hours," she said, knowing that if something had happened, one C.E.O. or another would be raising hell.

"All that means is that whatever our mystery man might've stolen was so top secret that they didn't want the fact that it'd been stolen to be public record," Terri said with her usual cynical attitude. "Top secret or something that violated several laws."

"Not every company is trying to pull a fast one, Terri," she said with a half roll of her eyes.

While she respected her partner and even called her friend, the woman didn't trust anyone with more money or more power than she had. To her, once you left middle class and arrived in high class your morals took a nosedive. While her time on the force had given her a somewhat skeptical viewpoint of the world, she was still more of an optimist than Terri was. To her, giving people the benefit of a doubt was a prerequisite for being a cop until forensic evidence conclusively proved they were unworthy of it.

"How do you know? It's a dog eat dog corporate world out there," Terri said, not flinching even a little. "If it's not the C.E.O.s looking to fatten their wallets, it's the people that work for them trying to one up their competition or retire to Hawaii."

"Well, until we get an I.D. on this guy, let's keep any speculation to a minimum," she said, trying to keep things on track. "We've sent his prints and DNA sample to the labs for testing. It'll take a while but we'll get the truth."

"That's what I wanted to hear," came a voice she'd both been expecting and dreading. "The Mayor's up in arms over this and the media's in a feeding frenzy. The sooner we can put a name and a pair of handcuffs to someone, the better I'll feel."

Commissioner Joseph Loeb.

A part of her respected the man the same way she'd respect anyone who'd been a part of the N.Y.P.D. for as long as Loeb had. The guy was proud of being a cop and would go to bat for anyone wearing a badge, no matter how risky it was to his career. However the man had it in for anyone he didn't classify as human or made the N.Y.P.D. look bad in the eyes of the press. That meant that mutants, self-styled super heroes who got their powers from god knew where and people like Tony Stark who built themselves a super suit of armor. From the commissioner's point of view the only people who should be chasing down criminals and saving lives were the normal people with lawfully provided police badges showing everyone their authority. Anyone else was either a reckless fool endangering both themselves as well as others or showboats who only cared about themselves and both kinds of people deserving to be locked behind bars.

"What've you got, detectives?" Loeb asked, sounding like he was looking for an official debrief.

"One male, mid-twenties, Caucasian, found at ground zero of the energy phenomena. Alive but completely unresponsive when the local beat cops arrived on the scene. Paramedics arrived and loaded him into the ambulance, all while taking his vitals not to mention looking for a reason for his apparently comatose state," she replied, taking out her notepad and going through what she'd jotted down so far. "Upon arrival doctors took the usual samples while we took his prints. We're still waiting on those. From what the docs say his vitals are all normal. Well, most of the times anyway."

"What do you mean 'most of the time', Greer?" Loeb asked, showing his dislike for ambiguity.

"Since being admitted to the hospital he's had four incidents where his vitals have gone haywire. A few times they even thought he'd flat lined but he came back each time," she replied, not knowing how else to describe what she'd witnessed. "The most interesting thing was that when they first used the paddles in an attempt to get his heart beating again after they thought he'd flat lined."

"What happened?" Commissioner Loeb asked, sounding a little impatient.

"Some residual charge or whatever from what happened in the park fried the paddles and every piece of electronics in the room," she replied, feeling a little worried about how her boss would react.

"He's a mutie?" Loeb asked instantly, taking on an aggressive and hostile posture.

"We don't know that for certain," she replied, hoping to shut down one of the man's rants before it could begin. "You know as well as I do that there are tons of different possibilities when it comes to stuff like that. Tech, science derived super powers and then there's however that guy with the hammer can do what he does. Until we get the lab results back, let's not jump to conclusions."

"Detective Grant, I have been on the force a long, LONG time and I know how it goes. The very insinuation that I would rush to conclusions before we find the evidence to support it is offensive," Loeb said, standing right up to her until they were practically nose-to-nose.

The man also didn't like being treated like someone who'd been sitting behind a desk so long that he'd forgotten what it was like to work the streets.

"That being said, I remember what it was like to have my superiors busting my chops for results when I was already working my ass off," Loeb said, reigning in his hostility a bit. "Keep me posted. When you know it, I want to know it ten seconds later."

"Count on it," she said with a respectful nod.

With that the head of the NYPD turned away and strode off like he had important places to be, which he probably did. Turning to her partner, she decided that with the boss on the warpath to get results as soon as possible, it'd be better to divide the work between the two of them.

"Look, you'd better make the rounds with the local C.E.O.s and see if you can rattle their cages enough to make them honest about any robberies they might've been a bit slow in reporting. Some of them might be business focused but some of them like Stark are geniuses who might already have an idea about what happened," she said, thinking up possibilities about how such efforts could turn out. "I'll stay here in case John Doe wakes up or the docs have anything to add about his condition."

"You sure I can't skip Stark? Please?" Terri asked, sounding like she REALLY didn't want to have to deal with the arrogant billionaire. "I swear the guy's picturing me in fifty different kinds of swimwear every time we talk to each other."

"Detective Lee… don't tell me you're afraid of that pampered playboy?" she asked rhetorically and teasingly.

"I'm not afraid of him," Terri said defensively with a bit of humor. "I'm afraid of losing my job for breaking his jaw."

They both had a little chuckle at the imagery this produced in their heads because they knew that it'd take more than some womanizing rich guy to make them lose their cool like that. Both of them had worked hard to reach the rank of detective. While society might've progressed to the point where a female detective was no longer uncommon, there were still a few old timers who didn't think she and Terri could do a good job as detectives. Some learned the error of their ways and made with the respect while others were either stupid or stubborn when it came to their opinion of women. Like Terri, though, she never let it get to her because she had faith that if they collared enough bad guys, even the most moronic male would see the light sooner or later.

"Just count to ten and then find a punching bag to vent on," she said as she finished chuckling. "Works wonders for me."

"See you back at the precinct," Terri said before turning away, presumably heading for the elevator to get to the ground floor.

Turning back to the mystery man lying unmoving on the bed, hooked up to several vitals monitors, her mind wandered as possibilities floated about like leaves in a lake. Ever since mutants and super powered people came on the scene, the definition of reality as well as possible seemed stuck in a constant state of flux. Just when you thought you knew what could or could not be done, someone came along to break the rules forcing people to push the possible-impossible line somewhere else. For someone who'd chosen to put on a badge and protect the people of New York City it meant that being able to adapt on the spot to ridiculous changes in circumstances was an absolute must. She wouldn't claim something cocky like she could handle anything the world threw at her but she'd like to think that it'd take something pretty nasty to overcome her will to survive.

Here's hoping the same can be said for you…, she thought before deciding to swing by the coffee machine. Whoever you are.