Author's note: This chapter is dedicated to Brad Rousse, who has given me a tremendous amount of help over the course of this story. This one's for you, Brad.

The President straightened his tie. Outside, the press was waiting. As a rule, the President didn't speak to the press; the main reason for this was because he was a soulless entity incapable of independent thought. However, this press conference was different. The Attorney General assured him that after this one, no one would ever question anything again.

"So... do you think I'll do a good job, sir?" he asked his master.

"Oh, I think you'll knock 'em dead," replied the AG.

"Trust me, darling... you'll knock 'em dead."

Rhonda checked her reflection again. She'd chosen a red top and a black skirt, and had accessorized with bracelets, a necklace, earrings (paste-on; her lobes were as hard to puncture as the rest of her), red socks with the feet parts cut off, and a red ribbon tied around her tail. Since this was the first party since the fight months ago with Helga, she wanted to look her best. She'd tried to have it earlier, but the monks kept dragging her back for more training. Now, she finally had a week off and she wanted to make it count.

"Are you sure all the red doesn't clash with my skin?" the pre-teen dark angel queried. "And I dunno... maybe I should cover up my extra eye..."

"Why? Do you think it'll make them nervous?" asked her mother.

"Well, yeah... I mean, seeing three eyes staring back at me from the mirror still freaks me out a little."

"Do whatever you're comfortable with. I think your eyes are perfect as is, but if you'd prefer...."

Rhonda slipped a headband over the offending sensory organ. "Does this look okay?"

"What do you think, sweetheart?"

"I think I'll keep it on."

"Suit yourself. I think you're making a big fuss over nothing. Everyone you invited knows you have three eyes. If they're really your friends, it won't make a difference to them, and it shouldn't to you either."

Rhonda looked at herself again. Slowly, she removed the headband.

"I wish I could get used to it."

The doorbell rang. Her first guests were here! She sprinted over and flung the door open.

"Hi, Nadine!" she trilled, sweeping her best friend up in a hug.

"Wow... you look terrific, Rhonda!"

"Really? I don't look weird or anything?"

"Of course not."

"Are you sure?"

"Rhonda... just relax. I'm pretty sure it'll all go fine."

"I hope you're right..."

ding-dong

Showtime.

It's showtime, the Attorney General thought to himself as the President went on stage.

He'd claimed to his clueless associates that the reason for having the National Convention's opening ceremonies here, on Liberty Island, was due to the massive PR benefit it would reap. How naïve they were...

The truth was, there would be no National Convention, no election, no ANYTHING. This gambit was for one purpose and one purpose only... to take care of Rhonda Lloyd while he put his final plans into motion. And a little mental suggestion was all it took to have no one question the fact that the entire cabinet was in attendance.

"My fellow Americans... I come before you today to declare that America is secure. But with that security must come vigilance. It is imperative that America be strong in the eyes of the world. Remember... this is a new world, with new rules. America must be strong, for we are God's nation, and we are doing God's work."

Was there any easier way to get these sheep to follow you than to invoke God? It was far easier to get the nation to rally together when scary, unpopular religions were seen as the threat. What fools these mortals were...

"Sheena! Glad you could come! Love what you've done with your hair!"

I can't believe it, Rhonda thought to herself. I'm actually... mingling!

"Um, thanks. I think your wings are cool."

'You like them? I think they're my favorite new feature."

'How does it feel to fly?"

"Eh. It's okay."

"Be honest..."

"It's the most incredible feeling you can imagine! It's like you're dreaming, only it's real! I wish everyone could feel it – wait, I think I know how you can!"

"What're you t—"

Sheena laughed in delight as her wings carried her through the center of a cloud. "So that's what they're like on the inside," she thought to herself.

She caught sight of a plane. "Well... why not? When am I ever gonna get the chance to do this again?"

She accelerated to catch up with the plane, then settled on the wing. Her hands and feet holding on firmly, she folded her wings and leaned forward, her eyes closed, and enjoyed the exhilarating feeling of the wind whipping at her face....

"—Wow... how'd you do that?"

"Telepathy... I beamed a memory directly into your brain. Cool, huh? I can do lots of great stuff like that."

"What kind of stuff?" asked Sid (by now, several of her guests had gathered).

"Well... I've got telekinesis... that means I can make things float with my mind." She demonstrated by spelling out her name with popcorn kernels. "And I can do some transmutation... I can change one substance into another. So far, I only know how to make a few basic things... I haven't learned how to turn water into Diet Yahoo or anything like that."

This was great! Her friends weren't frightened of her appearance at all!

No, of course not, Rhonda... you're tonight's entertainment! Hey everyone, the freak's doing magic tricks! Come see the amazing Junior Fashion Diva, tragically transformed into a hideous monster!

No, stop that. That way leads to self-pity. That's never good. You're a superhero... work PAST the angst.

"So... who wants to see me teleport five feet to the left?"

"...and so, we must forge ahead, ever upward, ever forward, and show our enemies what's boss."

Russ Bradford, photographer, yawned. I've never heard a guy say so much without actually saying anything. Who elected this guy, anyway?

"...we must not waiver, we must remain ever true in the eyes of the lo-" Suddenly, the President convulsed. He keeled over, obviously in pain. Pandemonium erupted as the press corps tried to rush the stage, only to be held back by security.

"...darn..." came a voice from the floor, "had a whole 'nother three pages to go on the importance of patriotic duty... ah, well..."

The President rose to his feet... but something was clearly wrong. His eyes glowed blood red, and his body seemed to be swelling.

"Guess it's time for the big finish," he said in a voice that was more of a growl. Before the crowd's eyes, the President continued to grow larger, reducing his clothing to shreds. Dark blue scales coated his skin, while strange bulges appeared on either side of his head.

This has gotta be the photo of a lifetime, thought Russ, who continued snapping pictures as the President/monster developed massive wings, a spike-studded tail, and a mouth full of needle-like teeth, and as the two swellings on his neck grew into full-sized heads.

Soon, in the spot where the President had been, there stood an enormous three-headed, eight-legged, four-winged dragon. Its three pairs of eyes looked out hungrily at the crowd.

"N-now see here!" the Vice-President shouted. "As the new President, I hereby order you t-" His demand was cut off, mid-sentence, as he vanished down the middle head's gullet. The left head belched forth a stream of flames that instantly incinerated the Defense Secretary; the Deputy Defense Secretary was flash-frozen by an icy blast from the right head, then shattered by a swipe of the beast's tail.

The Secret service agents and military personnel on hand broke out of their shocked inaction and drew their weapons, aiming every bullet they had at the creature. They might as well have been shooting marshmallows, for all the good it did. The middle head responded with a blast of ball lightning from its throat, electrocuting the whole group of them.

Crap, thought Russ. These pictures'll be worthless if this thing kills everyone... and from the look of things, it might! What could possibly stop it?

This is actually turning out to be a pretty good party, thought Rhonda as she and Sid danced to the latest from "Five Below Zero", the greatest boy band since, well, the last boy band a week ago.

She scanned the room; Gerald was with Phoebe (no surprise there), Arnold was with Helga (the two had been virtually inseparable since the schoolyard incident), and Lila was with Harold (when did that happen?). Sheena was off by the buffet table with Eugene, who'd somehow managed to break his arm playing soccer last week. Park, Joey, Robert, Katrinka, Brainy, and Percival "Peapod" Kidd were hovering around the background, as usual. Stinky and Nadine were talking about something. Funny, I'd never have put those two together. In fact, I don't think Nadine's ever really mentioned any interest in any boys...

Her keen ears heard the phone ring, but she assumed it couldn't be for her. Anyone who'd actually call her was already here, right? Who could it be?

"Rhonda!" her mother called. "It's for you. It's very important!"

"Who is it?" she called back.

"It's your teacher. You know... your special teacher."

"ACK! Can't I have one weekend off from him?" She fumed as she snatched up the phone. "This better be important! I am in the midst of throwing a crucial party here!"

"It is. You're needed in New York City right away. The Dark One has made his move, and now, there's a giant three-headed dragon tearing up Liberty Island!"

"A gi—three—that is important, isn't it. I'll get right on that." She hung up.

"Uh, guys, enjoy the rest of the party. I have to go... uh... save the day."

On Liberty Island, chaos continued to reign as the former President continued to freeze, charbroil, electrocute, or simply gobble down anyone who got too close.

Russ and the other survivors had retreated to the far side of the island, but there was no escape. The ferry had been set aflame by a stray fireball, and no more would be coming. No mayor in his right mind would send any more people into the bedlam that the island had become.

Russ was still snapping all the pictures he could. On the off-chance that he actually survived, he'd be set for life. But at the moment, it seemed a sure thing that soon, he'd die in obscurity.

As he mentally composed his epitaph, a purple blur came out of nowhere. Suddenly, the photographer found himself being whisked away from the island by... who? He risked a glance at his benefactor, and found himself looking into the face of a young girl... a young girl with purple skin, pointy ears and three eyes. She's that kid from Hillwood, he realized. The mutant girl who saved the playground.

The girl set him down on the opposite shore. "Stay there. I have to go back for the others."

"Can I at least have a picture?" asked Russ.

"No time! Maybe later!" she shouted, streaking off.

Should've brought my zoom lens, he thought as he snapped a picture of her retreating form. It's kinda hard to tell just what she is in this shot.

I hope she can stop that thing... a good photo of her would make my career!

Finally... got everyone off the island.

...everyone still alive, anyway...

The stench of death hung over the island. Corpses, in various states of being dead, littered the landscape. Rhonda fought the urge to vomit.

She failed. For the next few moments, Rhonda emptied the contents of her three stomachs all over the ground.

No... gotta stop. Focus. Lives are at stake. Everyone's counting on you. You can't afford to waste time like this.

She picked herself up off the ground and faced her quarry. It dwarfed her four-foot-ten body by a significant margin. How on Earth am I supposed to fight something like that?

One of the dragon's three heads whipped around. It was aware she was here! The head belched a stream of fire at her; she barely managed to evade it.

"Okay, Ghidra... my turn!" Rhonda unleashed multiple blasts of energy from her upper eye, hands, and tail. They seemed to do little more than annoy the beast, though... it answered by swatting her away with its tail. Swatting her all the way back to Manhattan, in fact...

Rhonda stopped herself in mid-air. Okay... maybe I need a better strategy...

She flew back to the island, firing several more blasts to gain its attention. As its three heads swiveled around to take aim at her, she waited... then dodged the combined blast of flame, frost, and lightning and circled around to the rear. She grabbed hold of the creature's tail, and, putting all her strength into it, lifted the creature off the ground.

Now came the hard part, She swung the creature, as hard as she could. Faster and faster, making sure it was unable to regain its equilibrium. And once she had built up enough speed, she let go and watched it sail off into the Atlantic, never to bother anything again.

At least, that was what was supposed to have happened. What actually happened was that the creature regained its senses mid-throw and whirled back around, homing in on her.

Oh, terrific. Now it's airborne.

The creature came at her, all three of its heads belching elemental death. Rhonda ducked and weaved between the streams, but even with her greater maneuverability, sooner or later, she was bound to get nailed.

It was time to go on the offensive. Conjuring a force-field in front of her with her left hand, she extended the claws on her right to their full foot-long length. Blocking a blast of frost, she aimed her talons at the monster's underbelly.

No good. Her claws weren't sharp enough. Neither was her tail's barb. The monster's scaly hide was just too thick for her to cut.

She needed something. Some sort of new edge against it. Something sharper than anything.

Something suddenly flared into existence in her hand. "What in...?" She looked at the strange energy pulsing in her hand. Focus it, her mind told her. Concentrate, shape it to your will. Picture it in your hands.

She opened her eyes.

Now use it.

The sword was about two feet long, felt like it weighed nothing, and glowed with an inner light. My inner light, thought Rhonda. This sword is made from a piece of my soul.

The beast's tail was swinging toward her again now. Rhonda swung her sword at it, the blade slicing cleanly through scale, muscle and bone, severing the tip of the tail completely. Black ichor oozed from the stump, while the severed chunk fell Earthward, to land in the Hudson. The dragon screamed in pain and flew off.

"It worked..." mumbled Rhonda to herself in disbelief. She finally had a useful weapon against the massive creature. It was time to make the most of it.

Kicking her speed into high, she launched herself after the creature, which was now headed for Manhattan airspace. Wonderful. Now I've got a few million civilians in danger. Just perfect.

She intercepted the creature somewhere over South Ferry. Her blade slice off the dragon's rear left wing, knocking it somewhat off-balance. The Dragon unleashed a window-shattering scream, knocking Rhonda back while it continued its now-wobbly flight.

"No you don't..." the dark angel muttered. "Not when I'm finally winning." She poured on as much speed as she could, arcing over and in front of the dragon. She hovered in front as the great beast as it approached, sword at the ready. A single wipe of the blade robbed it of its frost-spewing right head. Warm black blood fountained from its truncated neck, dousing Rhonda.

"Now THAT'S what I call 'reducing headcount!'" she quipped, wondering why. Must be a superhero thing. Maybe I've got some kind of "pun gland". Wouldn't surprise me.

The dragon bolted once again, but once more Rhonda overtook it, this time slicing off the left head. The beast bellowed in pain and rage, catching Rhonda off-guard with a volley of lightning. She found herself falling, and only by beating her wings furiously was she able to avoid becoming a smear in Herald Square.

"Oh, that's it, Trogdor. You're finished!" Rhonda launched herself upwards, and with one final swing of her blade, struck off the final head. Now completely incapacitated, the convulsing behemoth plummeted downward, impaling itself on the aerial of the Empire State Building.

"Wow.," quipped Rhonda. "That is gonna be a PAIN to clean up."

"That'll teach you to kill and eat people!" Russ shouted as he kicked the severed dragon head. "Yeah, you heard me! Mess with New Yorkers, will ya?"

He'd never really liked the President anyway.

A flutter of wings drew his attention away from taunting the ex-presidential body part. He whirled to face the heroine of the hour.

"I promised you a picture," she said matter-of-factly.

"Uh, well... thanks..." Russ raised his digital camera and took aim. They're never gonna believe this. "Er, move a little to the left?"

"Hm? Oh. Sure." She struck a pose. Wow. She's just a kid. Can't be more than 12.

click

"Uh... thanks. This'll be perfect."

"No problem. I would've been here sooner, but I needed to dispose of the dragon carcass. Speaking of which..." She bent down and lifted the dragon head. "Can't leave this here, can I?"

"...no... guess you can't..." mumbled Russ. This is unreal, he thought.

"...by the way... you wouldn't've happened to see where it came from?"

"It... the President..."

"It ate the President?"

"It WAS the President."

The girl's three eyes widened in shock. "You're kidding. Oh my god, You're kidding. I just killed the President. I'm, like, John Wilkes Booth and that guy in the Grassy Knoll." She sat down on the dragon head, trying to gather her wits.

"I, uh... I think the Secret Service'd make an exception for monster-slayers."

"Yeah... heh heh... right... he was a monster. That falls under the 25th Amendment, right? Being turned into a monster counts as 'incapacitated.' Doesn't it?"

"Yeah. Uh... I didn't catch your name. Do you have one?"

"My name? It's Rh—" She hesitated, clearly unsure about whether to reveal much about herself. Russ didn't blame her... she was risking a lot, since there was no way she could just "blend in" with the crowd.

"It's 'Genesis,'" she finally said.

The newly-redubbed Genesis (chosen simply because Rhonda thought it sounded cool) dumped the last of the dragon body parts in Fresh Kills. Winging her way back, she decided to check on Liberty Island (after a quick stop for a celebratory hot dog; the vendor seemed rather blasé about having a mutant customer. "Takes all kinds", he'd said.) From her vantage point on the torch (yet another advantage of having the ability to fly; it gave her a chance to get some truly spectacular views), she saw that the New York authorities had already taken things in hand.

Better call home, tell 'em I'll be late, she reminded herself, pulling out her cell phone. It went off just as she was about to dial home. The caller ID showed an untraceable number.

"Hello?" she answered. "Who is this? How did you get this number?"

"That's not important. You need to stop the Dark One."

"Hel-lo! I just killed the Dark One! Big dragon? Three heads? Any of that ring a bell?"

"That wasn't the Dark One. That was just one of his minions."

"WHAT?!"

"The Dark One is still unaccounted for."

"Can't you track him or something?"

"No. You're the only hope we have of finding him."

"Finding him? I don't even know what he looks like!"

So, she still lives, the Dark One mused. Not that it matters. It's too late for her. Too late for everyone except me.

In his hands, he held the key element of his plan. The so-called "nuclear football." With the small device, he could authorize the launch of any of the nation's long-range nuclear weapons.

He smiled. The place he stood was the perfect target, not only a fault line but a mystic power center. The Bible foretold that the final battle between good and evil would start on this very spot. Its author hadn't known how right he was, and yet how wrong.

This wasn't where the final battle between good and evil would begin.

This was where it would end.

TO BE CONCLUDED!!!