Later that night, Rachel was lying on her bed, talking on the phone with two of her best friends, Stacy and Emily.

"I can't believe he kissed you!" squealed Stacy.

"He kissed my hand," Rachel said. "Big whoop."

"Hey, a kiss is a kiss," Emily persuaded. "And from Viper! You are so lucky . . . "

"What's so great about Viper, anyway? He's just another 'bad boy.' " Rachel wondered out loud. She wished she hadn't asked. Emily and Stacy spent the next five minutes arguing over the issue.

"It's gotta be the hair," Emily said. "Pitch black! . . .And c'mon. Who says rat-tails are out of style?"

Stacy argued, "Oh, what? It's not his hair! It's his smile!"

"Yeah yeah, the smile is cute. But what about the tattoos?"

"Okay, the tattoos are hot, too."

"What about the scar?" Rachel cut in. She remembered that Viper had a vertical scar on his face over his left eye that ran from above his eyebrow down his cheek.

"Oh, yeah! That is one sexy scar," Stacy agreed.

Rachel glanced at her watch and said, "Hey, I gotta go. They're giving away free Aerosmith tickets on the radio tonight." So they bid each other goodnight and hung up. Rachel turned on her stereo just in time to hear the first chorus of her favorite song.

"I don't wanna close my eyes,

I don't wanna fall asleep

'Cause I'd miss you, baby,

And I don't wanna miss a thing.

'Cause even when I dream of you

The sweetest dream will never do,

I'd still miss you, baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing."

Rachel's 14-year-old sister, Tarah, walked in, and clicked the stereo off. "Hey!" Rachel shouted. "The call-in contest was about to start! I'm gonna miss my chance for those backstage passes to that Aerosmith concert!"

"Too bad," Tarah said, and sat on Rachel's bed. "I was eavesdropping on one of Mom's calls," she continued, "and I heard something about you and some guy at that dance. What happened?"

Rachel groaned. "Nothing! Now, turn the radio back on!" Tarah wasn't going to let the conversation end like that.

"Who was he?"

"Some gangster."

"Does this gangster have a name?"

"Yeah."

"Like what?"

"Zach something."

"Whoa! You mean Viper?!"

"Sure. Whatever. Turn the radio back on."

"And you went to the dance with Chris?! All your friends have a crush on him."

"You should have seen them drooling over that Viper dude."

"I don't blame them. Viper's cute. But . . . what about Jacob? He's nice." At that remark, Rachel grabbed a pillow, and threw it at her sister. Tarah ducked away. "I knew you had a crush on Jacob!" she said, throwing the pillow back.

"I so do not have a crush on Jacob!" Rachel laughed.

"Whatever you say," Tarah sighed, and walked out of the room.

Rachel turned the stereo back on, and heard the DJ say, "Marie from Tampa, Florida, you are the tenth caller! You just won four backstage passes to the Aerosmith concert next Saturday in Las Vegas!"

Rachel screamed into her pillow, brought her head up, and yelled, "Tarah, I'm never gonna meet Steven Tyler, because of you!"

Across town, Jacob Waters was sitting on the couch, watching the news as he downed a bag of Doritos. The news reporter was talking about how Viper had been caught. Suddenly, with a clap of thunder, all the lights went out. Jacob heard the soft rain outside begin pounding down on the roof. He groped his way to the kitchen, opened a drawer, and his hand found a flashlight just as the electricity returned.

Hours later, Viper woke up in a jail cell at the police department. He looked at a clock on the wall; almost three in the morning. "Whoa. What'd I miss?" Viper groaned, rubbing his head.

"Well, they dragged you in about six hours ago," said one of the men in his neighboring cell, "said something about the electric chair and the death penalty . . . and that's about it! Tough luck, kid."

"Yeah," Viper sighed. "But, I've had a good life, right?"

"You're only eighteen."

"I didn't say 'long.' I said 'good.' "

There was the sound of a distant explosion. "What was that?" the man wondered. Viper looked through the bars of his cell and up at the mayor's mansion that was at the top of a hill, overlooking the city.

"I'll give you one guess," he said. "It's the Black Widow."

"The Black Widow?" one of the prisoners asked. "This can't be good. I've heard stories about them. They never leave any survivors."

"No survivors?" Viper laughed. "Wonder where the stories come from."

In the meantime, the explosion woke Jacob. He ran to the window, looked up at the mayor's house, and saw smoke coming up from a house just beside it. He armed himself with anything he could carry, (mostly kitchen knives) and darted off. He soon found himself standing amid the chaos in Rachel's neighborhood. A woman ran screaming past him, a gangster chasing her. Jacob threw a knife at him. It imbedded deep in his back and he fell. Jacob grabbed the knife and continued up the street.

The explosion also woke Rachel. That sounds like it's coming from . . . right across the street! she thought. She looked out her window. Sure enough, the house across the street had a wall blown out, and the people living in the house were running out the front door. Some members of the Black Widow were inside, turning the place upside down, as if there was something they were looking for. Strange, they were only attacking this neighborhood. Well, duh! This is where all the rich people live! Rachel told herself. She heard a window shatter, only realizing it was a window from her own house! She ran into her parents' room. They were gone. It's three in the morning and their still out of town watching a movie? What's up with that?! . . . Oh, yeah. 'Titanic: Director's cut.' They'll be there all night! Rachel went to her sister's room. Tarah was hiding in the closet. "Rachel! Over here!" she whispered.

"Look," Rachel told her. "The cops will be here any minute. Stay here and let them find you. Okay?"

"Okay. Be careful, alright?" Tarah cautioned. Rachel ran out and closed the door.

"There she is!" she heard a shout behind her. She looked back, and saw who had broken in. Two gangsters, Louie and Mark. Rachel ran into her room and locked the door. She opened the balcony doors and hid in the closet. Louie and Mark finally got into Rachel's room.

"Great," Mark muttered, gesturing to the open balcony doors. He started for the balcony, but Louie held him back.

"We know you're here," he said. "Come out, and we promise no harm will come to you." He winked at Mark. "You got something of ours, and it calls to us." Louie looked down and saw where the carpet had been disturbed from Rachel opening and closing the closet. "The gold calls to us," he said. Rachel looked at the medallion that was still around her neck. Some light from the crack in the door glinted on it a moment, then disappeared. Rachel looked up, and gasped as Louie tore open the doors.

Jacob saw the broken window up at Rachel's house and prayed he wasn't too late. He started for the gates, but stopped to a hissing sound at his feet. He looked down and saw a cherry bomb. He looked back up, and there was a gangster called Dalton. . . .The one Jacob had just killed a moment ago! Jacob looked back down at the bomb. The wick burned down to the last bit. Nothing happened. He looked back up at Dalton and smiled. Then he was knocked over the head with a gun and fell to the ground, unconscious. The moon was just starting to rise over the fog . . .

Moonlight poured in the window as Viper sat in his jail cell talking to the other inmates in his neighboring cells. The guard had just left with some other police officers to go stop the gang attack. Two Black Widow members burst in, grabbed the keys, and let everyone go. But when they came to Viper, they just looked at him. "Hey, look here, Luke," one gangster, Ray, said to the other, "It's Zach de Marco." Luke laughed.

"Last time we saw you, you were all alone, standing on a cliff, disappearing into the distance."

"Your fortunes haven't improved much."

"Worry about your own fortunes, boys," Viper said, going to stand next to the cell door. "The deepest circle of hell is reserved for backstabbers and traitors." Not liking Viper's statement much, Ray reached through the bars and took him by the throat. Viper grabbed Ray's arm and tried to wrestle free. Then stopped. In the moonlight, he saw that what was in his hands was nothing but the bare bones of a skeleton. "So, there is a curse," he said. "That's interesting."

"You don't know nothing about hell," Ray said, and roughly let go of Viper. He watched as Ray's arm turned back to human flesh as he took it out of the moonlight. Luke and Ray left Viper in his cell. Viper looked out the window and watched as the moon disappeared behind the clouds.

Rachel was in her room with the gangsters Louie and Mark waiting outside. "Why do girls take so long to change?" Mark muttered.

"Don't know," Louie replied. "But in the end, it's usually worth it, know what I mean?" He grinned knowingly.

Rachel had changed out of her nightclothes and into a pair of shorts and a tank top. She glanced over at her dresser where she had put Viper's jacket, hearing his words replaying in her mind. Until I see you again. So she decided to take it, just in case. She started to put the jacket on, and noticed it held a faint but intoxicating scent of roses and champagne.

Rachel was taken down to the lake that was just outside the city. There, she saw about thirty motorcycles and one black van. It was the same van she had seen four years ago. Rachel noticed a figure leaning against a motorcycle at the water's edge. The motorcycle was completely chrome. The boy leaning against it was about eighteen or nineteen. He had short hair that was bleached to white. He was wearing a pair of torn jeans that were covered to the knees by his tall black boots. His white wife-beater was sharply contrasted against his black sleeveless trench coat.

"Hey, Blake!" Mark called.

When Blake turned around, Rachel saw his electric-blue eyes and froze. Those were the same eyes that she had seen four years ago.

Blake looked at Rachel and rolled his eyes. "I thought I said there'd be no kidnaping tonight," he said.

"We didn't kidnap her," Louie refused. "She pleaded Parley."

"Alright," Blake sighed. He waved Rachel over, and she went down to talk to him. "What do ya want?" he asked.

Rachel took him by the collar and ordered, "I want you and your little buddies to leave and never come back."

"I don't think I can do that," Blake said, taking her hand down.

"Okay, fine," Rachel mumbled. She took off the medallion and readied to throw in into the lake. "I'll throw it," she warned. Blake shifted uneasily, but quickly covered his discomfort.

"What makes you think your jewelry matters to me?"

"It's what you're looking for. I recognize . . . " She almost told him how she remembered seeing him, but thought better of it, and pointed to the silver motorcycle. ". . .that motorcycle. I saw it four years ago."

"Really? Well, it is pretty hard to miss," Blake said, sounding like he didn't give a rap about what she had to say.

"Alright," Rachel shrugged. "I guess if it's worthless, there's no point in keeping it." She drew back as if she was going to throw the medallion into the lake.

"Hold it!" Blake objected, grabbing her by the wrist. Rachel smiled. Blake laughed softly. He moved toward her. Rachel put the medallion back around her neck. "What's your name?" Blake asked. Rachel knew better than to give him her real name.

"Rachel . . . Waters," she said, using the only name on her mind at the moment: Jacob's. Blake smiled. Behind him, he heard Louie whispering to Mark.

"You know! Jesse!" Louie reminded Mark. Blake seemed more interested now.

"And, how'd ya get that medallion?" he asked Rachel. "Family heirloom?"

"Yeah. Let's go with that," Rachel agreed quickly.

Blake nodded. "Okay. So hand it over, me and the boys'll blow outta here, and never return." He held out his hand. Rachel gave him the medallion. Blake whistled, and a black cat jumped out of the open van window. It ran to Blake and jumped up on the seat of his motorcycle. Blake held out his hand to the cat. It snatched the medallion up in its teeth, then darted back into the van. By now, most of the gang had come back and were ready to go. "Alright! Get on," Blake said to Rachel, taking her toward the chrome motorcycle.

"What?" Rachel asked. "You didn't say anything about me going with you!"

"Then I guess now's a good time. You're coming with me," Blake told her. He put her on the bike with him and led the Black Widow into the dim light of the rising sun.