Part 3: Lost in 8MM

Ironically, what saved Jinx was bad luck.

So to speak.

While one would assume that the reflexes of a formerly very agile and still quite so acrobat would be top-notch, one must also understand that reflexes are designed mostly to work in anticipation of a situation. And while there are those who can turn their reactions on in a literal blink of an eye, it's not very common. For the rest, reflexes worked best if you saw what was coming, and had a fair amount of room to move.

Jinx's pulling aside of the shower curtain at the last second, not to mention she was standing up in a bathtub, pretty much rendered each part virtually nonexistent, which surely assured her doom as the axe swung at her…

But while she wasn't alert enough to properly dodge, she had enough time to move just a fraction.

Which made her foot slip.

Jinx fell into the tub as the axe whistled over her head and bit into the wall. Now good luck came into play: Jinx landed mostly on her shoulder and arm, saving her head from ramming into the tub and knocking her senseless, which would surely be followed by her being lifeless. The blast of pain didn't seem like much of a compensation though, as Jinx yelled/shrieked in pain and then shrieked again as it fully sank in: she was under attack in the shower by some lunatic with an axe.

And dressed in a Santa suit.

"PUNISH!" Billy snarled as he yanked his axe free and looped and swung it down in one smooth motion.

Jinx shoved herself backwards, using the slickness on the bottom of the tub to half propel herself back and half stand up, as the axe bit into the porcelain where her back had just been, as her mind whirled and tried to figure out what was going on.

The axe wrenched itself free again.

And Jinx decided she only had time to act, not think.

"NAUGHTY!" Billy roared as he swung.

Jinx dove to the side, just slipping past Billy's body as the axe slammed into the wall, and even as she did she fired off a mild hex blast, striking Billy with it.

Just as he was yanking the axe back out once more.

You see, due to the fact that the curtain had remained open during the whole battle, water had gotten everywhere, including all over the floor in front of the bathtub.

As Billy's booted foot moved slightly as he yanked the axe back…

And slipped.

His momentum severely altered, Billy found himself recoiling back and spinning around, as he lost his balance…

And slammed his forehead against the edge of the sink as he fell, a powerful impact that Billy's head violently snapped off of before he hit the ground.

A smear of blood remained on the white cracked basin, as blood began leaking from the prone Billy's head, as he lay on his stomach, his head to the side, not moving.

Jinx sat on the floor from where she had come to a stop, having scrabbled up against the door as she watched, waited, as her brain tried to sort itself out from the firestorm of adrenaline and panic that had been flowing through her.

But it did swiftly, as Jinx's breathing slowed. She still had no idea what was going on, but she knew one thing: she wasn't figuring stuff out in the buff.

Grabbing a towel off the wall, Jinx stood up and ran from the bathroom.

And then Billy's lone exposed eye snapped open.

Jinx's progress was abruptly halted at the door to her clothes, as she punched in the three-digit code to open the sliding door and got no result. She did it twice more before she shrieked a curse and slammed her palm against the wall. The lock was jammed, probably by whatever strangeness had caused that scene in the TV room. Which meant her only choice for clothes was the filthy outfit she'd come in in…

Or…whatever she had left in the small suitcase under her bed.

Thank god she hadn't decided to completely unpack.

Jinx ran over to her bed, dragged out the suitcase, and opened it up, looking inside…

Thank god Billy hadn't smashed the light in the bathroom. It was that which backlit him and allowed Jinx to see the shadow falling over her in time.

"PUNISH!"

The axe slammed into the contents of the suitcase as Jinx dodged to the side, trying to flee again…

And then Billy stepped on the loose end of her towel.

Which made her let it go.

Which made her lose her balance.

Which made her stumble into one of the small water puddles she'd made coming out of the bathroom with her still rather wet body.

Which made her slip more.

Which made her fall backwards and slam the back of her head against the wall. Pain exploded through her head as stars exploded in her vision.

With a grunt, Billy wrestled his axe free and turned towards Jinx.

Who dearly wanted to hex him again, but with the pain drilling through her cranium from the impact she could barely form a coherent thought…

Billy advanced on her, his head blow seemingly having unaffected him except for making him madder.

Three Billies danced before Jinx…

Billy stopped as he swung his axe up, ready to bury it in Jinx's head.

"NAUGHTY!"

And Jinx definitely was, as she lashed up with her right foot and buried it square between Billy's Christmas balls.

You don't need to be thinking clearly for SOME counter attacks.

Billy squealed and collapsed, his axe barely missing Jinx as she dodged and started to crawl away, trying to gather her head back together. She found her bed and pushed herself to her feet, wondering where her backup was…

And saw Billy was getting himself back together as well. Jinx's eyes darted around, wondering if there was any way to delay him…

"PUNISH!" Billy snarled, coming for her.

No. Nothing. And her head still hurt too much to use a hex. And she wasn't going to engage an axe-wielding maniac in hand to hand.

So she did the only thing left: she ran.

Until she stopped at the door, realizing she was still naked as a jaybird.

"PUNISH!"

And such thoughts as modesty were buried under older human instincts as Jinx screamed and ran, Billy in hot pursuit.

In a majority of stories, a canon plotline where story events must be strictly observed and noted must be followed. But in tales such as this, a need for such things is only necessary if the tellers say so.

And since we don't feel the need to stick to absolute canon, we now switch away from the Hive and to a completely different place.

Specifically, to a dark bar, late at night. The fact that it wasn't that late at the HIVE notwithstanding. The bar was considered by those who didn't go as a rough place, and those who did as a good hangout spot.

A man in a long coat walked up to the bar, having just come in from the torrential downpour that was outside. He sat down in his usual seat and didn't look around much, with the exception of wiping the rain from his somewhat bald head.

"If it isn't the big KJ. Welcome back. Usual?" The barmaid asked as she wiped a glass clean. The man offered a silent nod as she poured out a glass of fine highland scotch.

Now this in and of itself may have very little significance to the story or even to anything apart from the fact it seemed like a normal bar, until you take into account the person behind the bar was an above average Blacktrinian woman, with one yellow eye and an eye patch over the other. Her hair was shiny black, shoulder length and fell in a rough, off centre parting. While she was in a uniform consisting of a white shirt, black mini-skirt and a black apron, you could tell she was a person the Titans knew all too well.

"Excuse me Miss Styles? What channel is this?" A very familiar figure asked as he quietly sat there, writing some notes, probably for plans, also equally likely for a book. His outfit was black and silver armour with a mask, orange one side and black the other. On the TV in question, we could see our poor he…villains struggling through the events of Boogeymen II, no adverts and no interruptions, which is more than can be said for this story at any rate. At the moment, the screen was showing the large group of Hive members that had broken away from Juryrig in order to escape. However, they apparently hadn't been able to decide on a central plan of escape, as they were now all arguing.

"It's the Lord channel Mr. Wilson." Rebecca Styles replied. Yep, the White Hole was serving drinks to Killjoy, the 'Urban Legend Killer', and Slade Wilson, who was just a legendary killer. You see, seeing as this is a story that involves that obscure time in-between stories, one can play around with who is dead and who is alive, and seeing as most of the villains are around for the Villain Café, we can assume they are around for the Halloween specials also.

"That still doesn't make much sense. How did we get here anyway?" Rebecca asked, trying not to sound too confused. It was probably the calmest anyone had ever heard the White Hole, but that was a good thing I suppose.

"Wilful misdirection." Slade replied, and then offered her a large, very thick book on such which he, of course, had written. She opened up the tome and flipped through it. It was incredible detailed and intricate in every element, but it read like stereo instructions.

"Good stuff, but your writing needs work." She said after a few moments of being absorbed by the work.

"So does your choice of entertainment." Slade said, pointing to the stage, on which stood a drunken Australian singing 'Johnny B. Good'. He wore a long red jacket with a red and white waistcoat, which was crisscrossed by leather straps. He had red spiked hair that swept backwards, and his hands were covered by black gloves, and for very good reason. This was Jack Djinn, aka Asphyxiation, and he was drunk out of his Aussie mind.

"Boss?" Rebecca called into the back, extending the 'Oss' sound in order to catch his attention.

"Yes?" Returned a voice, as from the back came a man with long black hair wearing a smart suit, as it was what he needed to wear for the villain Café. His pale face was half shrouded in shadow; the same shadow seemed to make up his right hand. He was a tallish and lean gent, but obviously had enough muscle to deal some damage to others.

It was none other then the Lord of the Night, and if you had actually bothered to read Tales and Randomness, you would know this was his bar.

And at that moment Jack fell off the stage, smashing a few chairs and a table. The Lord sighed.

"Styles? Get the broom."

"Yes boss." She replied with a sigh, as she went to clean up the mess the drunk had made.

"What is this strangeness?" Slade asked, pointing to the screen.

"In this strange limbo we're in, who says we can't watch what other people are doing. The author's done her silly horror trick again and the result is playing out before us. Here's a list of who's in it." The Lord said, handing Slade a piece of paper. His eye flicked over it.

"Interesting." He finally said. "But not really enough so to keep my attention…unless you'd care to make it more interesting?"

"What are you getting at Deathstroke?"

"I wonder, Lord, if you would not be averse to laying down a small wager on the outcome of this special you have given us." Slade said with confidence and willingness. The Lord liked a man who knew little fear and still had enough of his wits about him to insert more than three syllables in one sentence.

"What do you have in mind?" He asked simply.

"Twenty five hundred thousand dollars to see if a particular subject makes it to the end of your little rat-race, oh 'Lord of the Night'." Slade said. The Lord didn't much care for his tone, but he let it go as Slade offered up a very thick wad of cash and placed it on the table. The Lord had no need for money: he could will it out of thin air if he so wished, and there was nothing it could get he couldn't just take for himself, but it was the principle of the thing.

"Agreed. Who do you pick?"

"The stone golem. Rocky, Rocking…Rocko." Slade said, checking the list for the name.

"Hmmm. Well I must say it will be a pleasure to take money from you." The Lord said placed down a similar amount. "Nightwalker."

"Count me in too!" Rebecca said as she returned with the broom, searching around her uniform for her purse. "I bet on Juryrig." She continued to look. "When I find the money."

"FLLEEEENNSSSEE!" A drunk Australian caterwauled. How Jack Djinn knew the boy's name was a mystery I'll leave for you to solve.

A slow and silent, gloved hand pushed a wad of cash forward with the label of 'Scorcher' on it. Soon all the villains in the bar were getting in on the act.

At least until the screen switched to show a naked Jinx running down the hall.

"WHOA! HELLO! SHOW JUST GOT BETTER!" Jack yelled as he plunked himself down on the nearest stool.

"Care for a separate wager?" Slade asked the Lord, as Billy emerged and pursued.

"On?"

"Her survival. I say she doesn't make it."

"How cruel Slade. Didn't you employ her a few times?"

"She failed all those times. And people rarely change." Slade said.

"If you think so. Then I guess I vote for her survival. As anathema as that normally would be." The Lord said, as he coolly watched the screen. "Hmmm, the carpet matches the curtains."

And with that, let us return to terra firma…or perhaps more aptly, terror firma…

It was funny. Due to the slow rebuilding of the school the Hive was using as a makeshift base, the students had swiftly gotten used to the same old rooms and corridors. Hell, before this incident, Jinx would have bet she could have walked through them blindfolded.

And now that she really needed to know where she was going, she didn't have a clue. Every hallway looked the same, no familiar exit presented itself. So she swallowed her pride more and continued to scream, running like hell.

Not that, as she glanced over her shoulder, that seemed to be doing her much good. She was sprinting in blind panic, while the Santa psycho seemed to be moving at a fast stalking pace at best, which was quicker then normal walking but should have been inferior to outright running. Yet she couldn't seem to get any distance between the two of them. Hell, he seemed to be catching up! What the hell!

And Jinx turned her head back…and nearly ran face first into the wall. She had to throw up her arms to stop the impact, and the jolt sent another lightning bolt of pain through her head, making her dizzy and nauseous.

"PUNISH!"

That was a good motivator to recover, as Jinx shoved off the wall and continued running, Billy just several steps away. She came to another corner, ran around it…and found herself heading down a hallway in which a closed metal door stood.

Jinx blinked sweat out of her eyes as she ran up to it. Locked, of course, but the keypad was right next to the door. What was the password…?

A shadow loomed around the corner as Jinx punched in what she was sure was the five number code.

She got no response.

She punched it in again.

Still no response.

Jinx frantically pounded on the keys.

No response at all. Not even an error message.

The electronics, she remembered. They were scrambled and hence not working.

She was trapped.

A boot clomped down on the ground hard as Jinx leaned there, feeling a strange coldness.

And as she looked at her arm, she found the strangest thing bothered her most. It wasn't the fact that she was seemingly due to die a horrible bloody death, or that she'd forgotten all her teachings to run screaming like a helpless damsel in distress. No…what bothered her the most was she was naked. She'd been forced to streak through the Hive on some mad chase and she was going to die that way, going out of the world as she came in…

…The hell she was.

Jinx turned around, even as her head was slammed with another wave of pain. She ignored it this time.

If Billy was happy his prey was trapped, he gave no sign of it, as he advanced rapidly on Jinx, a tinge of disgust mixed in with his usual expression.

"Punish…!" He snarled, as he closed in.

"One thing you have to ask yourself…do you feel lucky?" Jinx said, as her eyes glowed.

"PUNISH!" Billy screamed.

Pink power, faded but still there, erupted on Jinx's hand.

Billy swung the axe.

Jinx cartwheeled at the same time, firing off the weak tendrils of pink energy, as the axe swung past her naked body, missing by a mere inch…

And slammed into the electronic keylock.

"AUGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Billy bellowed as untold amounts of voltage surged through his form, his body jerking from the current for a few seconds before his fingers were torn from the axe and he fell at Jinx's feet, the axe remaining buried in the door panel, a few sparks still issuing forth.

And ironically, the door slid open.

"…Well, do you? PUNK?" Jinx said. In terms of her impression, the real Clint Eastwood needn't have worried about losing his job any time soon.

Then the wave of vertigo hit Jinx, and she fell to one knee, panting, as she once again tried to sort out her thoughts.

Was that movement…no couldn't be…must be her eyes. Jinx closed them and placed her fingers on her forehead, willing the pain to go away, wanting it so badly to…

And the pain actually seemed to oblige, as the African drum choir that had taken up residence in her head packed up and left, finally allowing Jinx to clear her thoughts, now that the danger was over…

She opened her eyes.

She had been wrong. It HAD been movement, as Billy was once again on his feet, his suit smoking, the palms of his hands burned, and his eyes awash with madness as he lunged at her to choke the life out of her.

"PUNISH!"

Jinx reacted on pure instinct, abruptly switching her weight to her hands as she coiled her legs, and as Billy reached in she sprang her legs up, standing on her hands as she reached up and grabbed Billy firmly around the neck with her ankles and thighs, and before Billy could do anything about it she once again abruptly shifted her weight and fed Billy's momentum into it to flip him over her, letting his body carrying her up, as she slammed him on the ground behind her on his shoulders as she shifted up and was suddenly standing above him, still clenching his neck with her legs and probably giving him one hell of a view.

Not like he could appreciate it, as his eyes blazed and his lips skinned back from his teeth.

"NAUGHTYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

"Wrong." Jinx said.

And she sharply twisted her interlocked ankles, Billy's head still clutched between them.

The dull crack of his neck breaking was louder then she expected.

Billy shuddered once more and then went limp beneath her.

"BAD." Jinx said.

The pink haired sorceress stepped off Billy's body and leaned against the wall, hoping this was the last time her system would surge with and then come down from an adrenaline rush.

Well, first things first: her modesty. Her clothes were back in her room, but she wasn't taking any chances of running into Hive members on her way back. And since her options were limited to one, as distasteful as she found it, she went about it, as she went back to Billy's body and began undoing his coat, wary of the possibility he might STILL get back up and head after her.

He didn't do that.

Instead something even more surprising happened.

As Jinx finally got the coat off and lifted it up…

Only to find her fingers were going through it. Jinx squawked and tried to renew her grip, but her hands were now passing through the garment like it was made of smoke, as the color paled, went see through, and began vanishing entirely…

As did Billy's body. The sight struck Jinx numb, and all she could do was watch as Billy's form, jacket, and even the axe stuck in the door disappeared into nothing.

Jinx stared at the spot for a few more seconds anyway.

"…Ok…well…that was…interesting…but before I ponder it more, I must obtain clothing…" Jinx said as she stood up. "Yes…clothing…swiftly…"

If there was any benefit, it was the fact that the strange sight kept her mind of the mortification of jogging back to her room naked.

Seemore was certain his Optimax, the weapon device he wore on his head, was on the fritz. Because he'd turned his head down the corridor he was passing by and could have sworn he had seen one and a half seconds of a naked Jinx jogging down the hallway before she vanished around the corner.

Behind his helmet, Seemore's actual two eyes blinked.

"…Nah." He justified. Must have been a trick of…something. God knows this place seemed ready to bust out any number of tricks against him.

Seemore had been away from the part when the strangeness had happened: he'd just finished using the facilities when the lights had gone out. They'd come back on in a few seconds, and Seemore had yet to see any butchered bodies or hell corridors to show him something was seriously out of whack…

But he sensed it anyway. The whole aura of the base had changed, going from a familiar place to something sinister. Seemore thought of his great-aunt, her tales of voodoo and haints (another term for ghosts), how there were bad things lurking beyond the shadows of this world and one would be best not to cross them.

Seemore hadn't paid her much mind. He'd been rather cocky even before the Hive, before the Optimax and the power it gave him.

He wished he had.

Because it certainly seemed like there were bad things in the shadows beyond the world.

And they seemed to have decided to pop in and say hello.

What made it worse was Seemore had yet to find any of his friends and allies. Naked Jinx notwithstanding (he'd already dismissed that as a trick of his overactive and hormone drenched imagination), he hadn't seen a soul. Considering the makeshift base usually had at least SOMEONE roaming the corridors even in the dead of night, this total solitude wasn't helping his heepy-jeepies. So he walked slowly, one hand on the side of his Optimax (which wasn't fully charged, damn it, he usually charged it overnight and he'd done training today, so it was at about half capacity, but he'd live with that for now, he was sure he had an eye vision that would work on ghosts…hopefully…), ready for anything…

Except, of course, what happened.

Which was him hearing music.

Specifically, a guitar.

Seemore blinked again. He wasn't sure how to read this. Was it a sign of normality returning, or a sign that weirdness was afoot?

He'd decide later. Right now he'd find out just what the noise was.

His hand still and steady, Seemore followed it.

Seemore probably would have felt much better if he knew he was relatively close to the main group of Hive students, the ones Sabotage had convinced to break away. Unfortunately, it is not the nature of a large group of varying temperaments in a crisis situation to mesh well, and when meshing doesn't happen, the opposite usually does. And as we may (or may not) have seen on a certain TV, the large group (as well as about a dozen Hive guards the group had picked up along the way, though they didn't know what was going on either) had lasted about seven minutes before falling into argument in one of the large training rooms.

"I KNOW this is the way asshole! You wanna die?" Sabotage snapped at Mammoth.

"I've been her longer then you Cord. And if you think I'm crazy enough to trust your judgement, you're even stupider then I thought." Mammoth replied, Shimmer hiding behind him.

"Oh really? You wanna throw down and see just how stupid I am?" Sabotage shot back.

"No…please don't fight…" Shimmer said.

"This isn't getting us anywhere! Can you just please fight or whatever, let's just pick a direction!" Flense snapped.

"Geez, look at them." Buzz Bomb said to Flay, who glanced at the teen in the armoured bee suit. Flay had tried to avoid talking to the teen: it was clear he was buzzed out of his mind on caffeine and the adrenaline that had most likely been dumped into his system probably hadn't helped. His body was a mass of tic's and twitches, and Flay was standing as much behind him as he could so the bee-man wouldn't accidentally fire one of his laser gauntlets into something Flay didn't care to have a laser fired into.

"What do you expect? Cord wants to control without giving a damn for leading."

"Idiots! Well no matter! If it all goes to hell, I still have my secret weapon!" Buzz Bomb semi-cackled to himself.

"…Secret weapon?" Flay said, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes!"

"…Ok. Secret weapon. What is it?"

"If I TOLD you, it wouldn't be much of a secret now would it? Would it, woulditwouldit?" Buzz Bomb said, rubbing his hands together and slurring the last two repetitions to the point where he sounded like he was doing a bad Woody Woodpecker impression. Flay decided the hell with tact and scurried away from Buzz Bomb, even as Mammoth decided he wasn't going to fight with Sabotage and led Shimmer away from the group.

"Anyone who wants to follow this dipshit is welcome to. But if you want to find the way out, come with me." Mammoth said as he headed for a door. The group of Hive students looked at each other, as if challenging each other to decide who went first.

In the end it was Progeny.

"Nothing personal guys." He said as he headed after Mammoth.

"Yeah, same har'. Just know I did this because I know that bi'gun will watch my back, while that varmint wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire." Billy Numerous said, as he and his several clones went with Progeny after Mammoth and Shimmer.

In the end though, they were the only two.

"All right! Now let's get down to business!" Sabotage said.

"Um, excuse me? How did you come to be in charge?" Nightwalker asked.

"Because I said so! Now, we don't know what's going on, so one of you is going to have to scout ahead!"

"What? What happened to your confidence that you knew the exit?" Flay said.

"Just for THAT, YOU can be the volunteer Simon!"

"You don't have the right or the rank to order me to do anything."

"I have plenty of rank! I run this show, by the authority of Cord Rayfory, lord and master of the Kingdom of Sabotage the First, and if anyone has a problem, they had come eat my fist and then kiss my big fat…"

A large hand of stone dropped onto Sabotage's shoulder. Despite the fact that it was done lightly, Sabotage was still nearly driven to his knees.

"That's about enough talking." Rocko said quietly. Sabotage craned his head and looked up at Rocko with furious eyes, but Rocko's blank white gaze was all he saw, and after several seconds of fighting the inevitable Sabotage screwed up his pride and let his arms fall limp. His power could royally screw over anyone…organic. Rocko was made of stone through and through, and as she had demonstrating in a humiliating (for him) training session, his power didn't affect her in the slightest. Without that Sabotage was just a martial artist, and going toe to toe with a pile of walking stones was a good way to sign your death warrant.

"Now…scouting may be a good idea. Simon…would you mind?" Rocko asked.

"…Sure, why not." Flay said, as he uncoiled a whip and began heading off in the direction Sabotage had wanted to go.

"You want backup?" Nightwalker asked.

"Too close in those hallways. We get attacked, you'll probably get in my way. Don't worry. I may not know much, but I know when I'm overmatched. If that happens I'll come running back here screaming my head off." Flay said, as he vanished into another door.

"We'll wait a few minutes and then follow. If anyone needs to rest, reload, drink, use the washroom, I suggest you do it now." Rocko said.

And much to Sabotage's immense aggravation, they obeyed her without question.

The hallways were a maze.

And in mazes, one never knows what is around the next corner.

As a resulting, a gun was peeking around the latest one, followed by the head of the wielder. Which would have scared the crap out of anyone watching, because the wielder's head was an upside down bucket. There wasn't even a smiley face painted on, just a blank bucket, attached to a body made up of knick-knacks Juryrig had scrounged from the storage room. To this basic frame he'd attached as many weapons as he could, which was about eight or so, minus the explosives. He'd grabbed a large machine gun for himself as well, just in case, and at the moment was opening his eyes to look at his two companions, Platinum Blonde and Rhinoceros Beetle. Platinum Blonde had insisted she didn't need a gun: Rhinoceros Beetle had wanted one but none had been big enough for his huge hands. And Juryrig sure wasn't letting him change back to his small human form and THEN give him a gun: with Wilby's light weight and immense nervousness he'd probably shoot them in the back before he shot any threats.

In any case, Juryrig had had his eyes closed to tap into a rarely used facet of his ability: he was linked to his creations, and if he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could see briefly through their eyes (even if they didn't have any).

"Clear." Juryrig said, as he moved his golem (Juryrig had dubbed him Duke Nukem) around the corner and followed it, his two companions scurrying after him. So far, so good. The worst part had been going through the hell corridor, which hadn't just been scary but downright…offensive was the only word Juryrig could think of. As if his body and mind found something fundamentally wrong with the area and had rejected it. But at least the corridor had come to an end, bleeding (bad choice of words there) back into a normal school hallway. Juryrig and Co hadn't stuck around after that: they were afraid if they looked back they would find the passageway chasing them.

"Julian, I must ask, what's the plan?" Rhinoceros Beetle asked.

"We look for Floral/Scorcher/Blood/a way out, not necessarily in that order but preferably." Juryrig said, as he checked around another corner and found it clear as well. That hallway ended in a T-junction.

"Where are we? I though I had this whole place memorized." Platinum Blonde complained as they headed for the T part of the passage.

"I've been getting that feeling myself. It's as if someone rearranged the whole structure…" Juryrig said, as he checked both sides of the T and found nothing.

"But that's impossible!" Platinum Blonde said.

"Impossible is a matter of perspective, Antoinette…" Juryrig said, as he looked left and right and decided to go left, gesturing to both indicate his choice and send the Duke Nukem golem ahead before following it. Platinum Blonde followed Juryrig.

Rhinoceros Beetle did not.

And if asked, he'd be surprised at why people were asking him the question.

As no sooner had Wilby stepped his massive frame into the T-junction then he had heard the voices, the voices…whispering in his ear…coming from down the right hallway…

Telling him he would never leave and that he would be punished…

And then the dead voices apparently called up Kubrick.

As suddenly from around the hallway corner Wilby was looking at it came, a gigantic wave of red, a massive surge of blood, filling the whole walkway with a surging crimson tide, a tide in which thrashing and deformed skeletons made of yellow, corroded bones bobbed and weaved, clawing at the air, cackling madly…

As the giant surge of blood closed in on Wilby.

You would think that his companions would have heard his scream. Hell, it was strange the whole Hive didn't.

But they didn't.

And it had nothing to do with distance or noise factors.

They just didn't.

And so they moved on.

For about two or so minutes before a thought occurred to Juryrig.

"You know for a big guy you sure move quietly Wil…by…" Juryrig said, as he turned around…and found the man-mountain gone. "What the hell?"

"What?" Platinum Blonde said, turning around and discovering the same. "Ce qui? Ou est-ill alle?"

"How could you miss him disappearing?" Juryrig almost yelled.

"What? You're the leader, why are you blaming me?" Platinum Blonde snapped back.

"As the leader I have to be IN the front keeping my eyes AHEAD, hence YOU have to be looking BEHIND you. How the hell do you lose someone like Wilby? He's kind of hard to…" Juryrig trailed off.

Platinum Blonde was about to yell back before Juryrig cut her off by snapping the clip of ammo he had in his gun out and then back in, presumably to check to see if it was still full of bullets (it was).

"What?" Platinum Blonde said.

"Thought I heard something."

"I didn't hear anything."

"That doesn't guarantee a damn thing…" Juryrig said, as he slowly traced his gun along one of the shadows in the room they had stopped in.

Movement.

Juryrig emptied half a clip as Platinum Blonde slammed her hands over her ears at the sudden eruption of noise, Juryrig only stopping his fire when the figure became clearer.

"Jesus!" Zippy yelled, as she stopped dancing, bullet holes around her lower body. "WhatkindofawaytogreetafriendisthatIknowyouknowIcandodgebulletsbutIdon'tneedabrupttrainingsessionsinthatfacthankyouverymuch…!"

"Sally!" Platinum Blonde said.

"OhhelloAntoinettenicetoseeyoutoowouldhavebeennicerifyouhadseenmebeforenutcaseherestarteddoinghisRamboimpression…!"

"Ok, TIME!" Juryrig said. "Ok Sal, sorry. But if you haven't somehow noticed, something really weird is going on here."

"Ohtellmeaboutit!" Zippy said, and proceeded to lay out her race with Hermes, its ending, and what she had observed as a result of the ending. If she actually took a breath during the whole time, Juryrig couldn't make it out.

"Andthat'sit! IwasrunningaroundlookingforpeopleandIfoundyoumuchtomyalmostnearregret!" Zippy finished.

"…Ok." Juryrig said. "Anyone want to bet that what Zippy saw is what's caused this to happen?"

"Well I certainly didn't think it was Jerry Lewis." Platinum Blonde replied.

"Right. Ok then, first we have to find Wilby…where the hell did he get off to anyway?" Juryrig said.

Wilby lowered his arms, gazing at what had been a hallway filled with rushing blood and demon bones…and was now just a hallway again. There was no blood on the floor, the walls, the ceiling, on him, anywhere at all.

Whatever it had been, it apparently hadn't had too firm a grip on reality.

Wilby's rush of relief lasted approximately one second before he turned around and found he was alone.

"…Guys?" Rhinoceros Beetle said. "Guys? GUYS!"
Wilby could safely assume that Julian and Antoinette hadn't gone past him (and he wasn't going down the corridor of blood that wasn't there unless someone put a gun to his head), so he headed down the other way.

Which ended abruptly in a dead end. A dead end that Juryrig and Platinum Blonde had not found.

What Wilby found was a wall hung with tools. Terrible, horrid, wretched tools, blackened with rust and encrusted with god knew what, tools that could clearly only be used for one thing and that was to make a mortal long for the embrace of hell…

Wilby turned and sprinted back the way he came…and stopped at the T-junction again, remembering the corridor of blood.

"…Anyone? ANYONEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Wilby bellowed.

But the only return sound he got was the echoing of his own voice.

Seemore couldn't believe his eye.

As a member of an organization that trained young people in special powers, natural (like, say, Scorcher's) or outside enhancement (Gizmo's combat robotics, or Seemore's own Optimax), in a world filled with heroes and villains and spirits and demons and a thousand other kinds of strangeness, you would think it would be hard to surprise Seemore. And it wasn't easy. But this wasn't just something strange. This was something, well, normal for a lack of a better term, a far more common sight then, say, a fifty-story monster. But it was such a common sight in such an unusual situation that Seemore would have been less perturbed if he had seen a ten-foot bug.

He'd followed the guitar noise back to the cafeteria where earlier he'd been having Flay do whip tricks, and found its source. It was indeed a guitar, being played by a woman. She looked to be in her early to mid twenties, a white girl who stood about 5'5 (Seemore has a good eye, so to speak) with reddish-brown hair and brown eyes. She was sitting on the bench of one of the tables, strumming a guitar and singing. Since she was facing to the side of the door Seemore had come in, she hadn't yet seen him, as she continued to play and sing, and Seemore just goggled at her, not sure what to make of it.

"Oh I'm a happy camper, I love the summer sun! I love the trees and forest, I'm always having fun! Ohhhh, I'm a happy camper…" The strange woman sang. A very slight whirring noise was drowned out as Seemore's Cyclops eye reacted to the muscle motions of his actual eyes beneath the helmet and opened wider. Was someone playing a prank on him? He didn't recognize the woman, but he'd met two shapeshifters since he'd started his Hive training, so that didn't necessarily mean anything.

"…I love the clear blue sky." The strange woman sang on. "And with the grace of God, I'll camp until I…"

And then her eyes flicked over to Seemore, who started. Evidently she'd finally noticed him.

Though she didn't seem unhappy at the fact. Just the opposite really.

"Hey there! Are you someone who can actually show me around?" She asked, giving an odd smile that Seemore couldn't quite place. The woman was looking closer at him, frowning eye. "Good gracious, what is that on your head? Is that some kind of new headgear to replace eyeglasses? Because if it is, I think you should stick to eyeglasses."

"…What?" Seemore said.

"You need help with hearing too? I said…"

"No no no! I mean…who are you?" Seemore asked, as he stepped into the room, still keeping a hand on his trigger switch.

"You don't know? You should, you hired me!"

"What?"

"Well why else would I be here? I'd have to have been hired! Though I must admit, this isn't like any other camp I've ever seen." The woman said, sitting up a bit as she adjusted her guitar and strummed a few notes. "Are you a camper or a counselor?"

"…Lady, I think you may have made a mistake." Seemore said, as he carefully walked around in front of the woman, though he kept a distance of several feet. "This isn't a camp…and who are you anyway?"

"It isn't?" The woman said, and Seemore could have sworn she looked crestfallen.

"Uh, no…and who are you?"

"My name's Angela. And if this is a joke, it's not funny. Camps are important. They help kids learn to love each other. So if I'm here and this isn't a camp, then I'm wasting my time and I don't like doing that." Angela said, as her sudden good cheer was laced with a cold, virulent undertone that chilled Seemore. It was the sudden addition of said tone that clued in Seemore on the description of her smile: it was indeed a camp counselor smile, filled with the overload of "we're all having fun!" counselors had to muster to try and get their charges to do what they wanted instead of running wild. For some it was an act, and for some it was genuine. Seemore wasn't sure of this Angela though (and that name sounded familiar), but he'd seen enough to gather it wasn't all kosher.

The fact that it swiftly faded and was replaced by the good cheer again didn't help any, as Angela switched back to happy happy joy joy mode.

"So quit joking silly! Show me around! Have to know the ground, make sure kids don't get lost…or go sneaking off…to do…their dirty things…" Angela said. The nasty undertone was back.

"Uh…"

"What, do you not know your way around either? I must admit, it wouldn't surprise me. This is a piss poor layout and design: no windows, all these metal and yellow coloring…this is a camp, not a beehive! Well, if you can't show me around we can sit band wait until someone who can shows up. You know Kumbaya don't you? Of course you do…!"

"…Miss, I'm afraid you're mistaken. This isn't a camp."

"It isn't?"

"No miss. In fact it's a school. Or was. And the fact that you're in it poses a few questions I wouldn't mind you answering." Seemore said.

Angela went still. Seemore debated it and then lifted his fingers a bit as he clicked through his dial of eye powers.

"So if we could start at the beginning…" Seemore said, as he took another step to the left…

And saw it.

It was perfectly positioned, with Angela's body and the shadows of the bench and table she was sitting at perfectly camouflaging it until you looked at it with the proper angle.

The body of a Hive drone, now very dead. His throat slashed from ear to ear.

Seemore gasped.

As Angela drew her hand back from where it had been concealed behind the guitar with the largest, nastiest hunting knife Seemore had ever seen, a sigh escaping her lips.

"So you're a bad apple like the rest." Angela said sadly. "A pity, I had a good first impression."

She moved so fast even Seemore didn't see her coming, as Angela got up, her guitar clattering at her feet as she dashed and slashed, the knife slicing open Seemore's chest in a wide gash, the light armor of his costume providing some protection but not enough, as Seemore screamed, blood gushing from the wound, and even as he did Angela was bringing back her arm as she swung for his throat, a blow Seemore managed to deflect somewhat as he got his arms up, the blade nicking one and slicing open the other, knocking down the black teen at the same time.

"What are you? A drinker? A fornicator? A drug addict? You inner city kids do like your narcotics." Angela said as she expertly flicked the knife to get the stray blood off it to keep it from running down onto her hand. Seemore just yelled and moaned in pain, blood pouring from his wounds. "Maybe you're all three. You kids can never be content with just one sin! You have to sin in all sorts of ways!"

Angela stepped in, aiming for the back of Seemore's neck.

"Well if you're like the rest of them, you can just join the rest! And what you are is a BAD APPLE!" Angela shrieked, and swung down.

As a yellow shield of power popped up over Seemore, the knife digging into the orb but not penetrating it as the kinetic impact was reversed and Angela was shoved back, and her eyes went wide and her mouth formed an O of shock at this strangeness.

The shield vanished, as Seemore turned his head to look at Angela, his mouth in a grimace as he quickly cycled from protective to offensive aspects of his Optimax, his eye going from yellow to green.

"Actually…" Seemore said. "I'm an eye-opener."

Seemore fired off three green Impact Eyes: two hit, slamming into Angela and throwing her backwards against one of the lunchroom tables. Seemore got up, his other hand clutching his chest wound: it hurt like hell but it was just a flesh wound. What he was going to do to this Angela (even as his Optimax computers reminded him that the shield mode was meant to take kinetic and incendiary impacts, not piercing, so please don't do that again, ok?) would be a lot more then that.

"Angela was it?" Seemore said, as he cycled through his options again. "Well I'm afraid, Angela, that you are in the wrong place, and not welcome. I vote for your expulsion."

The Optimax settled onto his red Detonation setting.

"All in favor, say EYE."

And Seemore fired the large energy orb.

And Angela showed great reflexes and endurance as she dove out of the way of the blast, the attack blowing the whole table behind to bits, showering Seemore with splinters as he recoiled and cursed under his breath. With his lower power settings he'd have to charge up to fire another Detonation Eye, and he doubted…

"BASTARD!" Angela shrieked as she was up and charging, running in to gut Seemore. Seemore recoiled away as she slashed wide, barely missing as he backed up as fast as he could.

"NOT JUST A SINNER! A FREAK TOO!" Angela said as she did several fast swings that just missed, as Seemore was backed up against another table. Seeing him trapped, Angela reared back for a big one.

Until her knife was blown out of her hand and into bits by another Impact orb.

"Sorry we don't see eye to eye." Seemore said, and let Angela have it at point blank range in the chest, throwing her right off her feet and causing her to hit the ground and slide nearly ten more feet before she stopped at another table. "But I'm not the one committing murder here."

Seemore quickly cycled to his blue Containment orb. If it could hold that alien, it would hold this lunatic.

Except he missed again, as Angela scrabbled up at the last second and just avoided the attack, the blue orb smacking against the table and sticking there as Angela vanished behind another, the cluster of tables hiding her crawling form.

Seemore growled and began switching to X-Ray vision. He didn't want this lunatic getting the drop on him. Then again, he though, as the tables went clear and he began scanning the room, very carefully walking to try and avoid ambushes, without her knife he doubted she could do too much damage. Weapons, more often then not, made the man…or woman…

And then something occurred to Seemore.

His last trick with Flay.

With the crowbar.

Which he couldn't remember taking out of the cafeteria…

"AIIIYYYYYYYAH!" Angela screamed as she came out of the literal nowhere, swinging the length of metal right into Seemore's ribs, causing more blood to spray from his injury and knocking the wind out of him, stopping him before he could scream, and then Angela whacked him across the shoulder and he was sent sprawling, falling onto another bench (as a musty smell filled his nostrils, telling him it was one of the old rotten wood benches from the old cafeteria the Hive hadn't gotten around to getting rid of yet), and as Seemore tried to turn around Angela loomed up behind him, a brief flash of light reflecting off the sharp point Flay had made at the end of the crowbar with his whip trick, a sharp edge Angela lanced down at Seemore.

Who activated his shield.

And was warned.

The point dug deep into the shield and then pierced through it as the weakened power cell failed.

And dug a chunk of meat off Seemore's shoulder.

He'd been able to move, just a bit.

Not that that made him feel any better, as he screamed again, clutching his shoulder, and then Angela slammed a foot onto his chest, propping him up as she strangely turned the crowbar around so the blunter edge was facing him.

Or maybe not so strangely, considering the look on her face. No simple quick death would be enough for him, no. She wanted him to feel it, as she smashed his head apart with the blunt end.

"Didn't your mother teach you you shouldn't stare at a lady?" Angela said, as she raised the crowbar.

And brought it down.

The end buried itself in the soft wood as Seemore contorted his neck at an angle he would have never believed was possible under normal circumstances, and even as he did he managed to break his record at switching as he changed back to Impact Eye, firing another one into Angela's torso and knocking her back again with a cry. Seemore rolled away and came up a dozen feet from Angela, even as he reached up and switched his Optimax one degree onto his last Detonation blast.

"Lady, you ain't one." Seemore said, and fired.

And realized the blows had thrown off his aim more then he expected, as the Detonation Orb missed the rising Angela and blew up the back half of the table behind and to the left of her. The shockwave still slammed into her like the impact of a giant fist though, pitching her forward onto her face.

Seemore cursed again, but all his injuries just made him mad enough so that he switched back to his Impact setting. He'd get the drop on her and let loose at point blank range with a charged up shot, shattering all her ribs and turning her inner organs into pulp. Who cared on the method, as long as she was dead.

Dazed, Angela looked up at Seemore charged at her.

Her eyes flicked around.

"See you later!" Seemore yelled as he closed in.

And Angela threw herself up and to the right, putting all her strength and weight on one end of the old wooden bench, shoving down as hard as she could…

As the other end swung up into the air.

With its deadly addition.

CHO-KLURCK!

Seemore stopped dead in his tracks.

The bench fell back down with a crash, the soft wood unable to hold the crowbar that Angela had driven into it now that it had found a firmer perch: right between Seemore's eye, the sharp end driven right through the machinery and into his head.

Blood began to pour out from beneath the helmet, as Seemore's body stood there as if frozen, tiny noises coming from his mouth, even as he somehow moved, lurching around just a bit, blind…

And never seeing Angela as she came up next to him, her guitar once again in her hands and a supreme look of triumph on her face.

"Bullseye."

And she swung the guitar into him, smashing it to bits and driving the point in deeper, as it cracked out the back of his helmet.

Seemore jerked once and fell to the ground, moving no more as blood pooled around him.

"You should have just been a good boy, weirdo." Angela said, looking down at the dead body.

And looking up to see Flay, standing about fifteen feet away, his face awash in shock.

"…You…you…" Flay said, unable to believe what he had just witnessed, walking in just as poor Seemore had been impaled through the head by the very weapon he had created, by this…this woman…this DEMON…

The triumph quickly faded from Angela's face, replaced by more rage.

"Of course. There's always more then one. You can't fornicate by yourself after all!" Angela said, as she tossed away her wrecked guitar. "Well, it doesn't matter. Camp or not, this place needs to be cleaned up, and I'm all for it!"

Angela reached down and yanked the pointed crowbar out of Seemore's head with a disgusting sucking sound, wiping the blood off it as she glared up at Flay.

"But don't blame me! It's your fault! All you have to do is be good! Be good! Not bad! But you're ALL bad! So you all have to GO!" Angela screamed, as she charged at Flay, whatever intellect and reasoning she normally utilized washed away in the flood of her madness.

As Flay's face hardened.

"DIE!"

Flay brought a hand to his belt.

Angela closed in.

The movement was a blur, punctuated by a buzzing crack that sounded like a gunshot.

As Flay reappeared behind Angela, kneeling down, his arm out…as his energy whip coiled back down to the ground.

Angela stood still for a moment, and then turned around even as Flay did, his face hard.

"What did…you…" She whispered.

And then a line appeared on her face, a red line that started at her upper left temple and ended to the right of her jaw.

A line that opened up.

And then ceased to exist, as Angela's head fell off, her body following, the skull split diagonally.

The ultimate whip trick.

"An eye for an eye." Flay said coldly, and put his whip back in his belt.

Though he knew it was pointless, Flay went over to Seemore and felt for a pulse. He found none, which didn't surprise him in the least. Sadness filled him: Seemore hadn't been a close friend but he'd been a teammate, and seemed like a decent fellow.

"…Sorry Seymore." Flay said (what, you're surprised that's his name?). "…Sorry."

Flay could think of nothing else to say, as he stood up. He started to glare back at the body of the madwoman who had killed Seemore…

"And as for you…" Flay began.

And stopped.

Her body was fading, disappearing like it was being erased from the world. Flay's jaw dropped as he watched: it wasn't exactly expected for bodies to do that.

Within seconds she was gone, as if she'd never been there. Only Seemore's body remained, a victim of her handiwork.

"…Ok…that's messed up. Big time." Flay said. He pondered if he should cover Seemore's body or just leave it and head back to report on what he had found during his scouting trip.

In the end he decided he had better go report back. Before he convinced himself what he had seen hadn't really happened.

He started forward, walking carefully, as if he expected the woman's body, with its new upper 'design' as one might say, to suddenly rear out of nowhere and put him down next to Seemore.

Then again that was ludicr…

Movement on his right!

Flay's whip gashed a line in the wall and Mittens must have jumped nearly five feet in shock. Flay yanked his whip back, grimacing: it was Selinda's cat. Only his insane reflexes had saved Mittens from joining Snowball I-III in cat heaven.

Though Mittens didn't seem all too grateful for Flay's immense skill. He hissed at the whipmaster and then turned around and walked off, his tail up and his butt waggling as if he was taunting the teen.

"…Right…" Flay said, as he deactivated the energy and began putting the parts away as he continued walking. "Man, this place is going to hell…"

Even in his state of mind, Flay had no idea just how accurate he was.

To Be Continued