It was the wee hours of the morning when the anti-venin arrived. Caine stepped aside as the nurse came in with the syringe. She injected the fluid into the IV port. "We'll know in a couple of hours." This was the hail-Mary pass. If this didn't work nothing would.

"Thank you." He said and resumed his vigil beside Lo Si's bed. "Soon, soon this will be over and you can go home." He leaned back in the chair and sighed. "I am sorry that you were involved in this my old friend."

Caine's emotions were getting the better of him. He could see clearly in most things, but the harbingers were pushing every button he thought he had buried when he became a priest. They had taken his son, tried to kill his best friend, and attacked the community both in Bayview and New River City. He was no closer to routing them out now than he had been 2 months ago when he had arrived in New River City.

March 20

Peter had spent his first day in the 'box' as he began to call it,( It reminded him of the places prisoners were put for punishment in old westerns. ) curled up in the corner, trying to avoid the sensation of the snake touching him. He tried not to hear what the snake was saying to him. Logic said it was just susurration, but Peter's logic was becoming harder to reach. He knew that it was the snake talking to him in strange whispers. He couldn't hear the words, but they pulled at him, sometimes they tore at him until he was too tired to think or fight any longer. It talked to him in his sleep. He talked to him, and he eventually took comfort in it. True succor. He craved it, he craved peace, and the only place he could find it was in submission to the snake.

The second day the darkness did not frighten him. His eyes could see that there was nothing in the room but himself. There was nothing to fear. He got off the mattress washed his face and hands and got busy. He now knew that his life depended on knowing this snakey martial art, he figured he'd better start taking it seriously. The impression he got from Miranda was that she was on a timetable and this ritual combat was the rite of passage for this forced initiation. He'd either become the destroyer of what he loved, or he'd be dead himself.

So he started the day going through the Katas he had been taught. It felt like such an alien form to him. But what did he know? He'd stopped doing Kung Fu at 13. Everything felt alien except for a few moves that he remembered spontaneously when needed.

He continued working until his breakfast came. He was surprised. It wasn't a nasty dry sandwich. It was fruit and cooked rice. He smiled, managing to eat in the dark without wearing it. He pushed the bowl back through the slot and went to his mattress to let his food settle before he started again. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. He began to breathe deeply. He wasn't trying to meditate, simply trying to forget his situation, forget about how much he wanted bad station house coffee, or steal the last donut from the box on Paul's desk. He even wanted to argue with Kelly again. But that life was gone and he'd never get it back. He didn't know how to reconcile the man he was with the life he was being forced to live. Sometimes it felt like the only way to get through it was to become someone he hated.

The slithering sound had become a constant background noise and he could all but ignore it totally. He could forget that the creature had twined itself around him when he was arguing with his father if he let himself. "What are they doing to me, Pop? What am I doing to me."

He got up from the bed and started doing exercises to strengthen his joints. He didn't know who he was going to have to fight in that arena but he doubted they'd go easy on him when it came to tossing him around like a ragdoll. Then he moved on to a qigong routine. It wasn't Kung Fu or Tai Chi, but he had the feeling it would be just as forbidden. It was more like a Chinese version of yoga, from a certain point of view. Okay, not really but it was close enough. His father had taught him a little of it after he'd been shot to help him heal and to deal with the anxiety he had been feeling. It would help with his flexibility and balance which he was going to need for this fight.

On the third day, he once again received fruit and rice for his breakfast. He didn't think to question it. He considered it a kindness no matter how much he hated rice, he hated the sandwiches more. He found that he didn't need the sandwiches that came for the later meals, the thought of eating them spurred on the twisting and churning snakes in his stomach. The rice was enough.

His stomach twinged but he thought nothing of it at the time. Nothing more than a nervous sensation because he was breaking the rules. It had to be that, right? What else could it be? He went into a qigong exercise. He completed one routine and began the next.

They could force his initiation but that didn't mean his heart had to be in it. It didn't mean he had to believe. That could undo the plot … right? Another twinge, harder this time. Peter winced and paused to let the sensation pass. "Listen, Snake-zilla, If that's you messing with me, this isn't Kung Fu, so knock it off." He said then groaned as another wave washed over him and his gut twisted in painful knots. He dropped to the floor, curling up around himself until it passed. He couldn't get up again and pulled himself over to the mattress. He curled up tightly around himself, moaning softly at the pain.

Paul Blaisdell swore loudly when the first report came across his desk. Gang violence was escalating, the strange thing was it was escalating across the board. Normally two factions would go to war and things would escalate until it came to a head and then it would settle down and let someone else have a turn. This was all over town, across all factions. That just didn't happen. Not without someone greasing a lot of palms or something from Caine's Kung Fu world. Heaven help him he was considering picking Caine's brain over this. He promised himself he'd do just that later today, once he built up to it. It wasn't that he didn't like the man, he did, he liked and respected him a great deal. It was just that he couldn't look at him without thinking about Peter. What the hell, he couldn't walk into his own home without thinking of Peter. He came to work and he was reminded of his son. What was one more painful reminder in the grand scheme of things?

He waited until his lunch hour and drove over to St Agnes hospital. He was certain he would find Caine there. He wanted to check on Lo Si anyway. St. Agnes was the closest hospital to Chinatown. He parked in the parking garage and took the elevator to the ground floor before walking over to the hospital proper. The Ancient was still in the intensive care unit, so that was where he headed.

Kwai Chang Caine looked up as Paul Blaisdell entered the room.

"How is he?" Paul asked.

"They do not know yet. He was given the anti-venin several hours ago. There is improvement but the doctors do not know if he received it in time. We will know more by morning they say."

"I hope they got it in time. I don't know him very well but Peter spoke well of him." His voice choked a little." I have something I'd like to talk to you about. Can I buy you a cup of tea in the cafeteria?" He asked.

Caine considered it for a moment before nodding. "Of course." There was nothing more he could do at the moment, and it was unlikely at this time that the would-be assassin would return.

"Thank you." Paul said, "Have you been here the entire time?"

He nodded.

"A few minutes away will do you good. You can't help Lo Si if you're exhausted." He said as they got into the elevator.

"I will sleep when he is awake."

"Is it like when Peter was shot?"

Caine shook his head, "No." He said. "He is not trapped between."

The elevator stopped and they exited across from the cafeteria.

"Have you eaten?" He asked

"No"

"Well, we're having lunch. I need to pick your brain and this is my lunch hour."

A few minutes later they settled into a booth and Paul took a long drink of his coffee.

"I think you have been awake all night as well," Caine said.

He nodded.

"How can I help?"

"For the past couple of months, gang violence has been rising." He didn't want to say that it had started right before Peter was taken from them.

"I have noticed this with the tongs."

"The thing is, it's not just happening with the tongs. It's the yakuza, the Russians, the Irish, and street gangs. There are reports from every precinct in the city that there are more murders and more armed robberies. It's not happening in spurts here and there. It is increasing across the board. Is there anything you know of that could cause this kind of unusual activity? Because if this continues at this rate, Bayview will be in a state of complete anarchy within the next two weeks."

"There are artifacts that could cause this. Certain rituals that draw power from chaos." He frowned. "The group I mentioned to you yesterday, the Harbingers."

"The ones seeking to destroy the Shaolin?"

Caine nodded. "They are the antithesis of everything the Shaolin believe in. Where we seek peace and enlightenment, they strive for Chaos and power. They have artifacts that drive people to the brink of madness. They are used to draw power for their most potent rituals. I have not encountered one of these rituals but my great-grandfather wrote of it in his journal."

"Do you have this journal?"

Caine looked pained. "I gave it to Peter."

"I'll ask Detective Blaine if she knows where to find it."

"If the Harbingers are preparing for a major ritual, they could leave Bayview in ruins."

Miranda turned on the monitor and looked in on Peter as she often did when he was in confinement. She had been pleased that on the previous day he had begun to work on his Kata's and ignore his fears. Now he writhed on the mattress, curling around his stomach.

She turned the monitor off and ran toward the stairs. She took them at double speed down to the Artifact room, then down the corridor and another flight of stairs down. There was something wrong.

She unlocked the door and entered the cell. "Peter?" She asked, kneeling beside him.

"Yeah." He curled up again and groaned "That's me."

She slipped her arm under his shoulders and forced him to a seated position. "Let's get you upstairs and find out what's going on."

"Easier said… than done." His breathing was shallow and quick, almost gasping.

"Get up." She said and tried to pull him up on her own. "I said, get up." She ordered sharply. "Five days can easily turn to ten."

He forced himself to his feet, leaning on her. "You know…" He swallowed hard "As far as threats go…" He nearly doubled over after the first few steps "It loses something to say you'll make me stay. Aaah… when you're trying to make me walk out."

"Yeah well, it got you to your feet." She said, "But if you think this is bad, the stairs are going to be a bitch."

He laughed raggedly "I'll manage." He said, "One should always die as comfortably as possible."

"You are not allowed to die, remember. I have not given permission for you to die."

"Yes, Sifu." He said and laughed which turned to another groan. "You don't think the serpent changed his mind do you?"

"Not if you know its gender."

"Yeah well, I have vipers in my gut," Peter said. "Bitey, angry, vipers."

"Alright, here we go up the first flight of stairs." She said

He nodded.

"Breathe through the pain." She told him as they went up the steps much slower than she would have liked, but they made it to the top. "Well done, now we're headed to the artifact room."

"Okay." He said, trying to keep his breathing slow and deep but he failed miserably. Occasionally the muscles in his abdomen constricted tightly and breathing was not possible at all.

"Do you still have your appendix?" She asked as she forced him to continue.

He shook his head "Not since I was 17." This hurt worse than when his appendix had nearly burst.

"Okay." She said and pushed open the doors to the artifact room.

"If I die-"

"I've already told you I have not given you permission to die." She wouldn't let him die. He was too important to their plans.

"Put my body where my family can find it."

"Peter-"

"No." He said "… the initiation. You said I could die."

"Not if I train you well enough." She said and pushed through the doors at the other end of the great hall.

"If I didn't know better I would say you kinda like me."

"I don't like anyone. Especially not those who are Shaolin." She said. "One more flight of stairs."

"I'm only Shaolin adjacent."Peter doubled over once more. "Did you ever consider putting in an elevator?"

She laughed a little as she helped him straighten up again "Can you see their reaction to these levels as they were putting it in?"

"The … giant black snake might be a - a bit much I guess."

"Here we go. This is the last flight. You can do this."

"The rice was good this morning." He said as they slowly ascended. "I think it might come back up though."

"What rice?" She asked, brow furrowing.

"Breakfast." He said then frowned "Have I been poisoned? Told you he couldn't- couldn't be trusted." Well, it would be over soon and he couldn't be used to destroy anything for anyone. He had known from the beginning he was going to die in this place. He'd still hoped to avoid it. So much for destiny and prophesy.

"I'll take care of it." She said. "Don't worry. We have excellent doctors." She forced him to continue walking up the stairs. Then through the door at the top, which opened into the back of her penthouse home. She didn't take him up the remaining flight to his room. Instead, she took him into the parlor and eased him onto the sofa.

Peter was more than happy not to be moving anymore. He watched as she unlocked a drawer and pulled a phone out and dialed. "I knew there had to be one here somewhere. " His voice tightened as another wave of pain washed over him.

"Dr. Ashford, you are needed. Now." She hung up and closed the drawer, locking it once more. She looked at Peter "You should see where I hide the weapons."

Peter almost laughed "You are the weapon." He shook his head "Celebrity death match… you and my father… people would pay money for that fight."

Kwai Chang Caine returned to his friend's bedside and was relieved to see that he was no longer intubated. "Does this mean he is recovering?" He asked the nurse.

"Well, he's no longer having respiratory distress and his blood pressure is not as high as it has been. These are encouraging signs. But I don't want to say anything definite yet." She never liked giving families false hope. It always hurt worse when their loved one passed.

Caine nodded. "He is in less discomfort." He said. If nothing else there was that. He waited for the nurse to leave before he began once again to minister to his qi. He could feel the change and relaxed a little. His friend was going to survive. Now he needed to make certain his son did as well.

Peter was beginning to think he would never stop throwing up. The doctor had given him a shot and then forced him to drink something that tasted like charbroiled socks. The man had the bedside manner of a rabid mountain goat and Peter had more than once considered throwing up on his shoes.

On the plus side, though, the bitey, angry, vipers had decided to take a hike. He thought he might prefer them to throwing up.

"It will stop soon, I assure you." Dr. Ashford said to Peter before taking Miranda aside. "This is the one we have been looking for? You are certain?"

She nodded "I triple-checked the genealogy before I had him picked up. This is the man who will rid us of the Shaolin forever."

"Then you have a problem. Someone on your staff wants him dead before he can do what we need him to do."

"The poison that was used?"

"La Cantarella." The doctor said. "He would have been dead by morning, I estimate. Fortunately, we have become better at dealing with poisons since the days of the Borgia."

"How long until he recovers?"

The doctor shrugged "His stomach will settle in a few minutes. Other than that I would say he'll be fine sometime tomorrow. Possibly even by morning."

"Good, we are getting far too close to allow anything to stand in our way now."

"Is the prophecy that close to fruition?"

"Within a few years. No more than five I would say, but I suspect it is much closer. I mean to have him initiated in two weeks' time."

"But that's during the festival of-"

"Yes, it is."

"Of course, you know best, Nagaina. It's just that they say the boy grew up in a Shaolin temple. We have of course recruited fallen Shaolin in the past but we have never initiated them into the higher orders."

"If our version of the prophecy is accurate, his initiation will herald the end of the Shaolin heresy. Within weeks His little temple will never have existed in the first place."