The next morning – somewhat early...
Saturday, July 1st, 2017

04:00 GMT (04:00 GMT July 1st)

Wideawake Airfield
Ascension Island
South Atlantic Ocean

The Phoenix

It had been another all-nighter and Marty felt groggy.

He and Abby had been staring at the same data for hours. Alya was fast asleep with her head resting on the desk having completed a six-hour stint ending at 2AM. Eric was flagging as he had been up for twenty hours straight but the stakes were too high for sleep – at least he thought so, until his eyes closed and he joined Alya as he snored at his workstation. Abby was just as exhausted and the sixteen-year-old was finding it more and more difficult to focus on the masses of information which they had been sifting through for days almost non-stop. The information had to lead somewhere, and Abby knew that what they needed was amongst the data somewhere. They had pieced together the information gleaned from Laurel's journals and they had mixed that information in with that seized from the vaporised Deadlight Facility in Mali and with all the other pieces of information, including that from the facility on the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea and that from the Genovese facility on Sicily. The amount of data was phenomenal and measured in terabytes. There were pictures, documents, encrypted files – you name it – which all needed to be checked, decrypted, taken apart, catalogued, identified, and crosschecked with all the other information.

The young hackers who made up Synthesis had been working major hours doing the donkey work involved with the decryption, checking, and cataloguing of the data which the operators had gathered at major risk to their lives. However, the high-level sorting had to be done by the senior analysts: Marty, Abby, Eric, and Alya. Which they had been doing for the past few days without much success. So much information and they also knew that they were on the clock. There had already been one nuclear explosion, and they all knew that there would be more, but with no further concrete information on when or where, and that was the problem which was giving the senior staff sleepless nights. Everyone with the even the slightest analytical skills had spent time sifting and sorting, making notes on what they found. Even the youngsters, but mainly the teenagers, had been involved. Most of the Urban Predator analytical training occurred during Phase 3 but there had been introductions into the world of how to find a string and pull that string to identify any further strings to pull to eventually find what you needed from deep within a folder of information.

Then, just when Abby was really beginning to lose hope, her tired eyes began to join previously unseen dots and she rapidly moved documents around her screen as she made notes on a yellow pad of paper. Then she got up and began sifting through piles and piles of cardboard folders stuffed full of paper – they had almost exhausted the not-inconsiderable onboard supply of printer paper as well as the supply of printer toner cartridges – looking for something she had seen the night before. Then she grinned happily as she ran her eyes down a sheet of paper and then she walked over to Marty who was busily typing on his keyboard.

"I have it!"

"Huh?" Marty muttered a little groggily.

"I have the location for the command centre!" Abby announced excitedly as all of her tiredness fell away thanks to the burst of adrenaline inside her veins.

"Is that so?"

Abby grinned at her mentor.

Eighty-seven seconds later...

Mindy had appeared just seconds after Abby had replaced the phone in its holder.

"Where?" Mindy demanded excitedly, ignoring the fact that she had just been rousted from a sound sleep.

"You remember you wanted somewhere colder than the desert and the jungle?" Marty grinned.

"Definitely!" Mindy responded.

"How does north of the Arctic Circle sound?"

Mindy's expression soured. "That is so not funny, Marty," she growled. "You're fucking kidding, right?"

"No."

Mindy just glared at the map on the screen and the flashing red dot in amongst a mass of white. Then Mindy chuckled and then she laughed. Everyone in the command centre just stared at the laughing woman, not getting the joke.

"I think she's final lost it," Stephanie commented dryly as she appeared from the corridor with Dave. "Surprised it took this long to be brutely honest."

Then Dave saw Mindy looking up at him and he realised that she had not 'lost it' – not quite at least.

"Come on, Dave," Mindy grinned. "It is kinda funny."

Dave thought about it and then he too started to laugh.

"I don't get it," Stephanie complained. "Is it something infectious? Should I be worried?"

"Oh, very good," Jason, who had followed Dave in, said as the proverbial penny dropped. "Somebody has it in for us – first Mindy is in a jungle hell, then the barren desert, and now we're headed into the frozen north – even worse, she actually asked for it!"

Stephanie sniggered and then she too laughed.

Later that morning,
at a more civilised hour...

07:45 GMT (07:45 GMT July 1st)

Mindy was happier than she had been in an exceedingly long time.

It had taken a while, but they finally had the information they needed to take the fight forward and prevent the unthinkable horror of worldwide Armageddon. The destination had been quite a surprise and had been a major topic of conversation throughout the aircraft. For most, it was a pleasant surprise – somewhere new to engage in a fight to the death; at least that was Stephanie's sardonic comment to Abigail over breakfast. Jamie and Tommy thought that fighting in the snow would be awesome only Saoirse and Willow were not so amused by the idea.

"Have you ever tried to fight in snow?" Willow asked the two boys. "Have you ever tried to fight in two-foot-deep snow? Well?"

"Not that I can remember," Jamie muttered.

"The cold works its way through your clothing and freezes your very bones," Saoirse explained. "You expose so much as a square-inch of bare skin and you risk frost-bite. You lose a glove; you risk losing a finger or two. If you thought that the desert was harsh, then you are in for a major shock, boys."

"I heard that a group of Phase 3 kids were sent into the mountains of Colorado during winter for three days," Jamie said. "But they only did it twice."

"Yeah," Willow said slowly. "One kid got frostbite, and another broke his ankle – they gave up on winter training for a while after we went before reinstating it some years later."

"Yeah – that went well!" Ruth commented dryly. "Yvette almost died and the less said about you-know-who and her exploits, the better...!"

Jamie looked over at where his big sister sat scowling.

A short while later...

09:22 GMT (09:22 GMT July 1st)

With the change of fortune came a change of mood.

There was purpose in the movement and activity of all as they readied their aircraft for departure, and they prepared their equipment for the next stage of the mission. The very last of the Saharan sand was swept out of the aircraft and lists of the needed cold-weather equipment were drawn up so that the equipment could be procured and modified as required by Lucius Fox. As well as Fusion forces, Vengeance forces, and those of Honneur, and Concord, there was a lot of coordination required between them and the governments of the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada. While the senior staff were busy planning, the junior members were doing all they could to assist. Mainly, the youngsters were cleaning weapons and running errands, but nobody complained – they could all sense the endgame closing in. There was a lot of work to be done, and that meant that the fun could wait.

At eleven that morning, a civilian Lockheed L-100-30 belonging to Wayne Enterprises touched down and began to unload pallets of weapons and ammunition, all of which was broken down and stowed aboard the two aircraft with most going into the capacious cargo hold and armoury of the PHEONIX to replace what was used in Africa. It took over an hour of hot sweaty work to unpack the pallets and stow the many boxes and crates aboard the aircraft. As well as being hot work, it was also backbreaking work and the younger kids were very sore by the time they had finished. However, as a reward, a massive lunch had been laid on for all teams aboard the PHOENIX. Yes, it was chaos with dozens of rabid children running from one end of the giant aircraft to the other, but the sound of incessant chatter was down as most had their mouths full of red meat – the crew knew what kept the children quiet and they had ensured that there was an abundance of appetising foods.

Dave ignored the sweaty youngsters who were having the time of their lives. In a several hours, they would be departing the beautiful island and they would be making for civilisation and then into combat. The endgame was truly afoot, and the events which were unfolding thousands of miles away on the west coast of the United States had turned the tide. However, those same events, plus the events in Mali and the Mediterranean, had sent a noticeably clear message to the Axis of Evil. They had to know that the world was on to them which meant that they had to know that their backs were up against the proverbial wall. That meant that the timetable was in a very delicate state and could be moved up at any time. Time, that was their biggest problem. Nobody knew how much time they had, nor if there was even enough time to complete the mission and prevent the detonation of scores of nuclear devices around the globe. But they had to press on and hope; there was simply nothing else that they could do.

The whole world was unknowingly counting on them to prevail.

Meanwhile...

08:50 GMT-5 (13:50 GMT July 1st)

Chicago, United States of America

The windy city was not so windy that morning.

Indeed, the temperature was steadily rising and the day was promising to be very warm with a few passing clouds. The waterfronts would be heaving as would the waters of Lake Michigan. However, southeast of the junction of South Albany Avenue and West 36th Place the seemingly abandoned warehouse in the seedy neighbourhood was looking as derelict as ever. The cracked concrete and tarmac parking lot outside was hot to the touch and best avoided when in bare feet. However, some sixty of so feet below that parking lot, the ambient temperature was a good ten degrees lower than that on the surface. Not that that helped those working in the capacious lair deep beneath that iconic city. While most of Fusion was soaking up the sun on a volcanic island hundreds of miles from anywhere, some were busy learning the ropes a long way from any sun.

For ten-year-old Jasmine Summers the past four weeks had kept the youngster very busy. Initially, everyone had been kind to her as she had healed, but then after her first week, the fun had gone and so had her friends. She was one of only ten remaining in the city. At least she was not the only Predator remaining and she was being looked after by Kim and Paige when she was not being beaten black and blue by Leo and Sarah. Outwardly, it appeared that the slim youngster was being bullied and terrorised by the older boy and girl, but no, Jasmine was quite capable of looking after herself, thank you very much, as several bruises upon the older boy and girl attested. The majority of the time had been spent finding out what Jasmine could do – and ignoring what her friends said she could do. It was crucially important to see where the girl's strengths and weaknesses lay, not to mention finding out where she sat on the newly developed Predator Psychosis Scale.

Basically, the PPS allowed medical personnel and the management teams to come to a consensus on how stable a newly discovered Predator may or may not be. It also helped to identify mental state and potential problems. It also helped to identify if said Predator was potentially trustworthy. A side effect of the PPS was the ability to match up Predators with similar-minded individuals to form teams. The scale was complex but basically, the closer to zero, the worse you were – incidentally, Hit Girl herself rated as a five on the scale which ran from 0 to 100 where 100 meant that you were a normal human being. As an example, Kick-Ass was rated as a ninety-two on the scale. Jasmine was rated as a forty-eight (no current Predator rated over sixty).

Indeed, Jasmine would have rated over fifty, but her membership of the 'Psyche Crew' had dragged her down.

..._..

Jasmine knew that she was being tested.

Not that she minded – she enjoyed proving her capabilities to everyone. Though she missed her friends whom she had just regained, she knew that they had work to do. Much was kept from her from a security point of view, but she understood and did not feel bad about it. She wanted to be a part of what Stephanie and her friends were a part of; she so wanted to become something more. Her codename, Valerian, given to her by Willow meant so much and she was determined to put it to good use. She wanted to help people and she wanted to be able to look in the mirror and know that she was a good person. She knew that everything she did was being watched and scrutinised; her every movement judged. She was not worried; she knew that she had plenty to offer, and she knew that it was where she wanted to be.

Sarah liked Jasmine. The girl kept her room neat and tidy, and she was prompt to meals. Once or twice, Sarah had heard jasmine scream out at night with a nightmare or two, but that was not unknown for newly recovered Predators. Indeed, it was not unknown for Predators in general to endure nightly terrors and associated nightmares. However, Sarah liked to ensure that those under her protection were not alone during those hours of hell, reliving past horrors. Due to the situation which had caused most of Fusion to quite literally take flight, the manning situation was not the best, but Fusion still had to deploy and show themselves upon the streets of Chicago. That reduced manpower meant that Jasmine AKA Valerian was being given a shot at becoming a masked Chicago Vigilante.

Which was why the young girl was pushing her limits as she trained.

Later that day...

12:45 GMT-5 (17:45 GMT July 1st)

Training Facility Echo

Jasmine was starving.

Paige and Rachel had put together a large lunch for every member of Fusion present – all ten of them! Jasmine sat with a boy whom she found to be more than annoying.

"Why are you grinning at me?" Jasmine asked the boy.

"You look like you need some company," Billy said.

"You can hit him if you want," Rachel said.

"I try not to hit boys," Jasmine replied in between bites of a cheeseburger. "If I started, I'd never stop hitting the cunts!"

Rachel and Morgan laughed while Leo and Billy – the only two boys present – just grinned.

..._...

After lunch, Jasmine descended into the bowels of Training Centre Echo and into the equipment storage area on Level 3.

There she drew the pistols which she had selected just the previous week. Both were brand new and she had spent several hours on the range sighting them both and honing her skills with the lethal devices. The two SIG Sauer P229 Legion Compact pistols were stunning and finished in a matte silver coating with black rubber grips. The extended muzzle of each pistol was fitted for a suppressor of which two lay on the table before her along with six ten-round magazines. Over the next forty minutes, the girl cleaned each pistol and the accessories which also included a combined flashlight and laser sight for each weapon. Her attention to detail was exemplary despite the pistols having been cleaned just the night before after having been fired the previous afternoon. Her marksmanship skills were excellent and she could shoot as well as any of her kind. The youngster had been stunned to be handed the weapons by Kim and to be told that they were hers along with the accessories. Jasmine looked up as she heard footsteps.

"Hello, Jasmine, let's put it on," Paige grinned as she walked over, a large box held in her arms.

"Put what on?" Jasmine asked.

"The last suit you'll ever wear."

Jasmine grinned at the Men In Black reference but the grin quickly vanished as her jaw dropped when she saw what Paige brought out of the box which she had placed upon the table. Jasmine recognised the same armour which her friends wore and at the beckoning of Paige, she stripped off and pulled on soft black boy shorts and a black cotton T-shirt. Then came the padded undersuit which consisted of two parts. The jacket, which zipped up the front, was a reddish brown colour akin to copper. The trousers were the same shade while being remarkably comfortable and light as was the jacket. Next came a selection of Type IIA armour panels which attached to the undersuit and thence with each other to form a hyper-flexible but solid barrier to inbound projectiles be they blade, bullet, or shrapnel. Each panel was finished in a medium blue with a pale yellow trim. Her utility belt was medium blue with a pale yellow trim and fitted with the usual accoutrements of communications module, four magazine mounts, two suppressor mounts, and two pistol holsters. Her copper-coloured thigh armour carried four throwing knives and a pair of combat ASPs. A Tanto blade was fitted to the outside of her right boot, both of which were dark blue and came up to just below each knee.

"I make this look good!" Jasmine said as she looked at herself in a full length mirror.

Then she glanced down at the section of armour which covered her left breast. She ran her right hand over the Fusion symbol and she could not help but grin broadly. Paige laughed as she handed over a pair of gauntlets which were dark blue on the palm but copper-coloured elsewhere. Jasmine pulled them on and then she felt her hands trembling as took the final part of her combat suit from Paige. It was her mask. It was the final piece that would turn her into her alter ego. The ten-year-old girl took several deep breaths as she built up the courage to become what she craved. The mask slipped on like a second skin and it cocooned her head cutting off everything around her but then the mask booted up and if it were not for the mask, her jaw would have dropped. Before her eyes she could make out a heads-up-display with masses of information which scrolled across her field of view before they vanished from sight. She looked into the mirror and she was stunned by the final effect. Her eyes blazed a dazzling cyan which was accentuated by the deep three-inch copper band which ran across her eyes.

The rest of her full-face mask was a medium blue.

Some five thousand nautical miles to the southeast...

18:50 GMT (18:50 GMT July 1st)

Wideawake Airfield
Ascension Island
South Atlantic Ocean

They were on the move again.

As the sun began to set over the tiny volcanic island, COCKBURN ONE accelerated hard down the runway and roared into the sky, before it banked to the right onto a heading of 317°. Launching ten minutes behind to avoid the previous aircraft's jet wash, THE PHOENIX also thundered down the runway, making use of almost every metre of the three kilometre runway as the heavily laden aircraft then clawed into the air, where it too banked to the right as it took up the same heading as the smaller Boeing.

Both aircraft climbed to a cruising altitude of 38,000-feet and, separated by just two miles abeam, they settled down for their 4,385-nautical mile, ten-hour flight over the North Atlantic Ocean.

That night...

20:59 GMT-5 (01:59 GMT July 2nd)

McKinley Park, Chicago
United States of America

The sun had been down barely half an hour plunging the city into darkness.

That darkness drew out two main groups of people. One group took advantage of the darkness to go about their nefarious activities while the other took advantage of the darkness to go about their business taking down those undertaking said nefarious activities. Too many words? Yes, that second group were Chicago's own vigilantes.

The black and crimson Yamaha Super Ténéré motorcycle which bore the diving raven symbol in red and the licence plate RAVEN turned off West 37th Street and cruised south down South Damen Avenue, slowing as it passed through the park. The grassy park was always busy, late into the night, and it was regularly patrolled by the Chicago Police Department. However, nobody knew when Fusion might choose to visit the park which kept those undertaking nefarious activities on their toes. Everyone recognised the motorcycle and the armour-clad individual astride the powerful machine. However, the smaller vigilante riding behind Red Raven was something new, but that new vigilante's arrival with Red Raven told everyone that she was a new member of the Fusion fraternity and not to be messed with. That fact was backed up as with a throaty roar, the monstrous black GMC Sierra 3500HD pickup truck known as Iron Hide rumbled to a stop just behind Red Raven and the new vigilante. Out of Iron Hide stepped arguably two vigilantes with the best curves of all the females in Fusion.

Lynx ignored the males with their tongues hanging out as they drooled at her combat suit which accentuated every feminine curve she possessed from her thighs to her ample chest. If Lynx did not get a rise out of those Neanderthals then Hawk did. It was not all that uncommon to see Fusion females patrolling alone but it was common for those females to be backed up by the heavily armoured male members of Fusion who were never far away.

However, that night, it was time to introduce Valerian to her adoring public.

..._...

To say that Valerian was silently crapping herself would be a major understatement.

She had never felt so nervous and part of her mind told her that she was being stupid. Nobody could harm her and nobody would ever guess her true identity. She was as safe as she could ever be. She had endured an hour of practice in her new combat suit to get used to the additional weight and she had had to alter her fighting style to account for the extra bulk, however she had acclimated quickly and she had then geared up after an evening meal and ridden out behind Red Raven. As she walked with Red Raven, Valerian knew that she was untouchable encased in her armour and while she had thought the equipment restraining, she swiftly found it enabling and she quickly realised why Fusion were victorious despite the odds. She bit her lip beneath her mask as she felt dozens of eyes checking her out and she felt shy. Of all the stupid emotions, she thought!

Valerian was soon joined by two furry friends – Blade and Sampson. The large dogs stayed close to her and matched her course, their armoured masks giving the two animals menace. Indeed, the two dogs gave the girl courage and her nervousness soon faded away as she made for the very centre of the park. She quickly noticed that Red Raven was hanging back further and further until she then completely vanished in amongst the trees. Lynx and Hawk had remained with the vehicles and were now some distance away. Then it happened, just short of the soccer pitch. Valerian's head snapped around as she heard a piercing scream. Blade and Sampson growled menacingly as they both turned in the direction of the sound. Valerian broke into a run as she changed course and ran into the trees.

There were two men crouching down below a large tree which created a dark area. The two men turned as they heard the vicious blood-curdling growls. Both men knew that it was a bad idea to run, but they feared those pearly white teeth which shone in the night and which their minds just made all the sharper, picturing the fangs dripping blood – their blood. They bolted and Valerian hesitated.

"The order is 'take them'," a voice announced in her earpiece as the dogs stood still.

"Take them!" Valerian said and both animals raced after the two fleeing men.

She stepped towards the tree and she saw a third man standing astride a woman whose lower clothing was almost off her legs. Without hesitation, she grasped an ASP off each thigh and she deployed both devices with a flick of her wrists. The man did not appear impressed as he pulled a pistol and he squeezed the trigger twice. The two bullets struck Valerian, taking her off her feet and momentarily winding her, but then she frowned as her earpiece came to life.

"Battle Mode Activated. Suit Integrity Ninety-Eight Percent."

The force of the bullet strikes had surprised the girl – they were nowhere near as painful as she had expected of such strikes at close range. She regained her feet swiftly and her assailant was surprised to see the elegantly peaceful cyan eyes dissolve and return as angry bright yellow eyes. With a press of a button on the grip, a tail appeared out the back of the ASP held in her right gauntlet as she altered her grip and she threw the weapon like it was a javelin which indeed it had become. The weapon flew straight and true, impaling the man in the chest, the point missing his heart by two inches. The man dropped to his knees as his hands scrambled to grasp the weapon embedded in his body. Then Valerian turned as she heard pounding feet – it was Red Raven.

"Get after the other men!" Red Raven ordered. "I'll see to the woman."

"How...?" Valerian began as she looked off into the darkness in the direction where the dogs had gone. Then she saw two blue indicators in her mask. "Oh!"

Valerian retrieved the ASP from the fallen man, retracted the tail, then stowed her ASPs as she broke into a run and moved in the direction indicated by her mask.

..._...

The dogs were not too far away and she soon found that they had cornered their quarries.

The two men were on the northernmost baseball quadrant and both were scared witless. The two armoured animals were growling and snapping at the two men, corralling them. However, as Valerian approached, the two animals dutifully stepped back from the men but remained with hackles raised and their eyes never leaving the two suspected rapists. Valerian approached the two men, suddenly unsure of what was expected of her. She could see the fear in the men's eyes and that emboldened the new vigilante as she came close. Valerian could feel the power that came with her Fusion affiliation and the fear in the eyes before here was very real. They had no idea if they were going to live or die. That was up to Valerian; she was judge, jury, and executioner. Valerian had no trouble with killing, only, she had been trained to assassinate with no thought about why or whether she should. But Fusion stood for a whole lot more than just killing criminals. Fusion had the respect of law enforcement and criminals alike. Neither man cared that they were backing away from a ten-year-old girl – they simply saw death moving towards them.

However, before Valerian could come to a decision over whether the two men should die or not, a dark green VW Atlas sporting a flashing blue light on the dashboard came to a halt a few yards away. The vehicle was joined by a Chicago Police Department Crown Victoria, its own blue lights lighting up the scene. Valerian saw a large black man in a cheap suit striding towards her from the Atlas – the man was familiar and then she recognised him as Captain Marcus Williams: Mindy and Megan's father.

"Hello, Valerian," the man said smoothly. "Welcome to Chicago."

Valerian grinned beneath her mask. Marcus watched curiously as the eyes which had been yellow, gently faded and were replaced by a cyan glare. Then he turned his attention to the two men cowering on the ground.

"Take this scum away," he ordered and two uniformed officers from the Crown Victoria pulled the two men to their feet and secured them with handcuffs. "Not bad for your first night out."

"It's been an experience," Valerian offered and Marcus grinned at the electronically garbled voice.

The man had met Jasmine the previous week and he had been very impressed by the young girl's politeness which was a rarity around Mindy's madhouse.

"At least they started you off easy."

"Easy?"

"Oh yeah!"

Valerian grimaced at the thought of what she could have been doing but then she did consider that she had not actually done much – except prevent a rapist from raping again and putting away his accomplices. She felt pleased with what she had accomplished.

"Have a good night, Valerian," Marcus chuckled as he climbed back into his truck.

Valerian suddenly felt worried and more than a little concerned for her safety.

Some four miles or so to the south,
a little while later that night...

22:05 GMT-5 (03:05 GMT July 2nd)

74th Street & Damien

Joel Burnell was not exactly on patrol, but he was checking out the area for potential trouble.

However, his mind was split between his new responsibilities and concern over what danger his girl might be in. He missed Willow more than he would ever admit. He missed her company. He missed her touch. He missed her... He had to focus on the present. Willow was thousands of miles away and there was nothing that he could do about that, but he was still worried about her. Instead, he focussed on his task for that night. The young man wore a standard FCCS2 under his otherwise unremarkable clothing and like many of his generation, he hid his face in the shadow of a hooded top. In fact, his face was hidden behind a mask and the hood hid his mask from general view. While the tasking was not difficult, it was dangerous. He was trespassing on gang territory; specifically that of the Cortez Street Gang, and they would string him up in a second if they learnt who he represented. As Joel understood it, Hit Girl was not very popular with the Cortez Street Gang having blazed through the neighbourhood uninvited some ten or eleven months previously during the Queen's Messenger incident.

In general, West Englewood and its lesser neighbour, Englewood, to the east, had an unenviable reputation which kept the Chicago PD at arms-length and a certain group of vigilantes outside the borders of the neighbouring gangs. The other gang, the South Side Stones, were often at war with the Cortez Street Gang but recently there was a form of détente between the warring factions. In Fact, West Englewood had such a poor reputation that Hit Girl had based her first safehouse just to the south 'for easy access to criminal cunts', as she had so eloquently put it. Englewood to the east had also been where Tommy Morgan had been recovered from and Chris D'Amico had also deemed the area suitable for his HQ at one point as had the Russian Mafia.

So, a nice part of town – for Hit Girl!

..._...

They came from the north, down South Ashland Avenue.

The broad thoroughfare was the demarcation between the South Side Stones to the east and the Cortez Street Gang to the west and was classified as no man's land for the two gangs. Joel had hoped a CTA bus east and he had jumped off at 74th and Paulina, just short of South Ashland Avenue. Intelligence from various Fusion sources and snitches had advised of a move by a third gang, the Southside Disciples. Should the gang move in on the smaller, less violent existing gangs then the southside of Chicago would explode, quite literally. Lieutenant Hank Voight had gathered the intelligence and then called on the assistance of Fusion to provide some heavyweight support to at least put off a gang war and hopefully mend some fences where the South Side Stones and the Cortez Street Gang were concerned.

The Southside Disciples was the most ruthless and violent gang in the city of Chicago by mid-2017, and they numbered in the hundreds as far as membership was concerned thanks to their ability to swallow up rival gangs. Someone had noticed that Hit Girl had vanished along with the most feared Fusion vigilantes and that had kicked off a plan to rapidly expand before Hit Girl and Kick-Ass returned to bang heads. All three gangs had their very own intelligence network, each of which was remarkably good at what they did and therefore the presence of Iron Hide driving down South Ashland Avenue was rapidly reported to all three gangs before the vehicle and Red Raven with Valerian had driven more than forty yards. Long before Fusion had appeared on the scene, the Chicago Police Department had been spotted all along South Ashland Avenue with over twenty unmarked vehicles scattered around the area – most of which had been spotted of course.

It was a tinder box waiting to explode, but the intelligence forces of the CPD and Fusion had been out making inroads with the two smaller gangs in an attempt to limit the bloodshed for which over fifteen ambulances had been put on standby along with other units of the Chicago Fire Department. Still, Fusion's notoriety spread before them and nobody dared to lift a finger as the vigilantes exercised their right to drive down the broad avenue. As far as the gang members were concerned, even the smaller vigilantes could take down a dozen of them without even breaking a sweat, such was Fusion's reputation in the city. Therefore, with four vigilantes patrolling, simple maths told them that a minimum of fifty gang members would be needed to ensure victory over the vigilantes – only, nobody was that brave or foolhardy as everyone knew that Hit Girl was well-known for holding a grudge.

However, the Southside Disciples had other ideas as they had the required fifty plus and the desire to butt heads with Fusion.

..._...

Joel was not happy with the situation.

He recognised thugs when he saw them, and he also recognised one or two faces from his FEAR days – not all of the Corsairs who had served FEAR and fought alongside the Marauders had been taken and imprisoned. Joel realised that some had simply swapped allegiance for protection from the biggest gang in the city, if not the state. The young man doublechecked that his weapons were in place and accessible before he triggered his radio.

"I have Disciples moving up from the south," he reported, "and they have swelled their numbers by recruiting some ex-Corsairs."

"Just what we need," Fortune groaned over the radio.

"Tell me about it!" Ember added.

"Are you guys close?" Joel asked.

"You could say that, Rook," Ember commented as she hid in the darkness not thirty yards distant with Fortune twenty yards beyond her.

"Rook has it spot on," Flare said from Synthesis Base. "We've counted upwards of seventy moving north up South Ashland Avenue."

"Of all the times he has to be right, he has to start now!" Red Raven growled.

"Sorry!" Rook commented.

"Ares, Relentless, Sneak – you up?" Red Raven continued.

"Just squawk!" Sneak responded.

Red Raven hated bird-related metaphors and puns but she let it slide – the obnoxious boy was not worth the hassle!

..._...

The leader of the Southside Disciples was a man named Zechariah Porter, he was in his early forties and he ran the Southside Disciples like it was a military organisation, a fact which accounted for his many successes.

Not much was known about the man beyond the fact that he had been running the organisation for seven years after deposing the then leader of the Southside Disciples, Leonard Garzer, who had opted to take early retirement. The man felt totally at home striding down the street with sixty-seven men and women who were all sworn members of his crusade to become the top gangster in Chicago, then Illinois, and beyond.

Without warning, Zechariah stopped dead as two people stepped out into the roadway ahead of him and his disciples. Both wore dark-coloured long hooded coats which extended to the ground. Then both coats were shrugged off and two Fusion vigilantes were revealed to all. Neither were well-known, but Ember and Fortune both enjoyed the anonymity, but there was no mistaking where their loyalty lay. Neither had drawn a weapon, but neither were they about to let Zechariah and his disciples pass.

"This place does not concern you," Zechariah preached. "This territory belongs to South Side Stones," he waved his left hand, "and the Cortez Street Gang." He waved his right hand. "Only, they are about to become subservient to me."

"They are a part of Chicago and we will protect them," Fortune growled.

"You two are going to fight us?" Zechariah's tone was mocking. "Are you really that stupid?"

"No – that's why we brought our friends," Fortune responded just as there came a roar of raw diesel power from behind Zechariah and his disciples.

Many heads turned to lay eyes on the sinister black form of Titan, the Ford F-550 Pit-Bull VX armoured truck, which roared down the side of an embankment upon which railroad tracks ran and raced up South Ashland Avenue, the monster slamming on its brakes a dozen yards from the back row of Zechariah's disciples. The rear hatch of the armoured beast was thrown open and out jumped three females, a male, and six canines, all wearing battle armour. As the six animals took up position, growling and snapping at the disciples, Phosphor, Blackout, and the Vancouver Ninja spread out behind the animals with Relentless.

"Aren't you bitches a little far from home?" Zechariah yelled after he had pushed through his disciples to see what was going on and he recognised the markings on the females' combat suits.

"Taking a busman's holiday," Ninja Girl yelled back.

Then Zechariah turned around again as he heard a loud noise coming from behind him and he pushed back through his people to where he could see Iron Hide pulling up and disgorging two armour-clad females – his mind told him they were Hawk and Lynx – and he recognised Red Raven as she climbed off her motorcycle with a shorter vigilante he did not recognise. Zechariah hated it when his meticulously planned schemes began to unravel. Even worse, he could see the two opposing gangs making an appearance. The odds were not in his favour any more, but he was not a man to back down as he lifted a radio and muttered a few words before he pulled a nasty-looking combat machete from beneath his knee-length jacket.

Fortune and Ember exchanged a glance as they drew their own blades and they charged the masses.

End of PART VII