"But now I stand alone with my pride
And dream that you're still by my side but

#2 - "That Was Yesterday"

I had the world in my hands
But it's not the end of my world
Just a slight change of plans"

-- Foreigner

"Oh hell," the man in black grumbled as he checked the monitor on his grav-cycle. The vehicle contained numerous sensory equipment and one monitor in particular had caught his attention. Concealed a short distance from where he had rescued Molly from the Hunter-Killer, or simply HK, the cycle was the man's main mode of transportation. It was no longer a sleek technological marvel, but it more than adequately fulfilled his requirements for the vehicle.

He was once known as the Muskateer. Now he went by various names, but that didn't seem to matter much. He was simply who he was. He had a self-assigned job to do and he was damn good at it. Dressed entirely in black leather and bristling with weapons, both seen and unseen, he was ready for action of any kind.

Tapping a series of buttons on a control pad, the monitor switched functions to a sort of radar-like screen. Numerous blips lit up the display and seemed to be closing in on the center location. "Glad to see I can still draw a crowd. Those Hunters never seem to learn." Under his black mask, the Muskateer suppressed a brief grin.

Turning to his recently rescued companion, Muskateer regarded the injured young woman. "I'd really like to try and stabilize your wounds a little bit, but we have even less time 'n I first thought."

"Can we get away in time?", Molly asked wearily, a worried look forming on her face. It had seemed as though she was safe for a moment, but that thought was now fleeting. She was on the run again. It never ended.

"No problem, kiddo. We'll have to fight our way out, but that's my kinda fun anyway." He reached down and cradled the young, exhausted mutant. Lifting her into his arms, he spun quickly and headed for the grav-cycle. "Think you can...?" He stopped in mid-sentence upon realizing that the young girl had passed out in his arms. "Great," he said sarcastically. "Nothin' like makin' my job easier."

Muskateer straddled the cycle's seat and kept one eye on the monitor as he situated himself. The blips were now on top of the center location and the machine was beeping rapidly. As he pushed the starter, the HK's were almost on top of them. He could sense their vile presence. It was only a matter of seconds before they struck.

A moment later the cycle roared to life and lifted into the air. As he gunned the accelerator with one hand, the dark clad warrior tore his sword from its scabbard and in one motion slashed at the Hunter that was leaping at his throat. The creature was knocked aside in a bloody slash and then slammed headfirst into the concrete wall that had been beyond Muskateer's cycle. The Hunter crumpled to the alleyway, a pool of crimson liquid forming about its upper body. Muskateer didn't even look back at the growing horde as he continued to accelerate away.

New York City had seen better days. Once it was an international hot spot and one of the most influential and grand cities in the world. These days it was but a pale imitation of its once proud self. Much of the wide-scale damage from the war had never been repaired. Except for a few select neighborhoods, the destroyed skyscrapers and damaged buildings continued to lay in ruins.

The inhabitants that so far survived worked to eke out a meager existence. Some of it was out of stubbornness, some due to the fact that most of New York was now classified as a Free Zone. The term was misleading. It basically meant that the area was now unclaimed and nearly entirely lawless. Anything could and did happen here on a daily basis. Manhattan was the worst of all. It was now cut off from the rest of the city, all the tunnels and bridges having been destroyed many times over during the war.

Paradise, as those now living on Manhattan called it sarcastically, was a haven for small warlords and bands of roving marauders. A series of manned and armed bunkers on what was once the New Jersey side of the river made certain that the worst of it all stayed in the Free Zone.

New York City was now but a shadow of its former self. The average inhabitant belonged to one cult, gang or organization or another, mostly just for survival. Individuals found here alone usually had a life expectancy measured in minutes.

Still there was a measure of normalcy here in this war-ravaged environment. People still worked various jobs. Restaurants of a sort still served meals. The streets were often occupied in the daylight hours, though nowhere near as thickly as in the old days. Of course, the war had taken a terrible toll on New York. Eight out of every ten inhabitants were now dead. Black smoke billowed from numerous fires at any time. Those who found themselves on the streets this morning were suddenly caught in the aftermath of the war between the supers and the normals.

The grav-cycle roared through the air. Numerous weaponry on the machine blasted about itself in every direction. Muskateer clung to the handlebars, trying to control the craft, hold onto the unconscious young girl who rode along with him and struggle with the Hunter that was draped over the front of the cycle. The Avenger could barely see where he was going as the dangerous creature demanded most of his attention. It didn't help that an entire squadron of HPA forces had assembled and seemed to be coming out of the woodwork.

The HPA troopers weren't very dangerous compared to the Hunters when fighting a super, unless they were deployed en masse. In this case, en masse was an understatement.

Three laser tanks were arranged near the river and they fired their deadly barrages without concern for life, limb or the considerable devastation that they were causing. Throughout the area, innumerable platoons of foot soldiers were arrayed. They sprayed the air with blaster fire as the grav-cycle sped by. Heavy laser emplacements were hastily being erected as the troops continued to deploy.

"Time to lose our unwelcome passenger," Muskateer mused. It was too hard to control the craft with the unwieldy bulk of the Hunter weighing down the front of the machine. Muskateer let go of the Hunter's clawed and heavily muscled arm to fully control the cycle. It slashed at his throat, but failed to rend the advanced ballistic material that Muskateer wore. The Hunter growled in anger and frustration.

"Hold that thought, ugly." Turning the cycle back around, Muskateer slowed the craft slightly and then threw his body to the side. The blaster fire from the massed troops lit up the sky and numerous blasts made contact. Mostly with the surprised Hunter-Killer. Each blast had little effect, but in such concentration, nothing that wasn't completely invulnerable could withstand the barrage unscathed. The Hunter was blasted clear of the cycle and tumbled to the ground like a limp rag doll.

Muskateer accelerated again and flew directly at the laser tanks. The weapons fire that rang out sent many of the foot troops scattering for cover. Calmly, the warrior dodged the bursts that seeked to smash him from the sky. Closer and closer he raced towards the HPA armored vehicles. A few hundred yards away, he thumbed a pair of buttons. A brace of rockets sprung forth and shot out ahead of him. As they quickly closed on their targets, the cluster missiles all burst open and a number of smaller missiles spread out even further. Upon impact, an area nearly two city blocks square was engulfed in explosions.

Muskateer rocketed through the explosion. Using the blast as cover and a diversion, he continued out over the river, quickly putting distance between himself and his enemies. As he closed in on the containment bunkers, he dove lower, now barely skimming the surface of the water. He continued on unmolested past the bunker stations. Long ago he had screened his grav-cycle against any and all types of detection that anyone could devise. It was thoroughly cloaked against mechanical, electrical, motion, magic and even organic sensors. A smug smile of satisfaction came to Muskateer's face as he banked the grav-cycle over what was once New Jersey and he flew back towards the southeast, hugging the river's surface to avoid further trouble.

Molly opened her eyes and blinked a few times. It was brighter here than she had been used to recently. She looked around and gathered in her surroundings. A single overhead light illuminated this windowless chamber. She was laying on a simple cot, but it was the most comfortable place she had slept in a long time.

One wall of the room she was in was lined with various shelves and crammed with innumerable boxes, bags and parts of every kind imaginable. Nearby a workbench was strewn with various medical supplies, sutures, and bandages. A large medical bag turned over on its side, its contents spilling out of the open top, added to the mix.

Molly sat up and groaned in considerable pain. She reached for her injured shoulder reflexively and found that it had been bandaged. The Hunter had delivered a nasty wound there earlier. "Well, I guess that part wasn't a dream," Molly lamented.

To further emphasize the truth of her statement, she peeled back the thick blanket that covered her lower body and saw another large bandage, almost from knee to hip. The HK had ripped a severe row of cuts across her thigh as well.

"It's difficult just to move," Molly said, wincing in pain as she slowly swung her legs over the side of the cot. "I think I hurt everywhere." She just sat there a few moments, her body disapproving of even those simple movements.

She was now dressed in a simple white top that had been cut open to expose her injured shoulder and a pair of shorts. On her wrist she noticed that there was now some kind of silver bracelet with no distinguishable features. Examining it further, it appeared to Molly to somehow be locked in place. She could see no way to remove it.

"I was wondering how long you'd be napping." Molly jumped at the unexpected voice, a searing pain shooting through her abdomen and shoulder from the movement. She winced noticeably and fumbled for something to say, but no actual words came out of her mouth.

Muskateer moved over to the table and searched through the medical bag's spilled contents. With his back to her, she wasn't able to see exactly what he was doing. A moment later, he turned and presented a small packet to Molly. She accepted it hesitantly.

"If I were you, I wouldn't take more n' one of those at a time, but they should help some with the pain. There's some water over there," he said, indicating a small basin on the other side of the room.

Molly moved tentatively toward the sink and then opened the package and spilled the contents into her hand. She regarded the plain white tablets suspiciously.

"Look, if I wanted ta kill ya, I sure as hell wouldn't've saved you from that damn HK," Muskateer said sarcastically. He watched as Molly slipped one of the pills onto her tongue and swallowed. She drank down a tall cup of water. Then she filled it again and quickly drained the contents, staring at the dark-clad man as she drank. After a third time, she had to catch her breath momentarily.

"Watch it, kiddo, it'd be a shame to survive this long and then drown yerself." He regarded the frail young woman. Her eyes held the strange combination of a defiant look and at the same time that of one who had been beaten down and broken. It was no picnic living on the run from the HPA. "You plan on talkin' any time soon, 'r what?"

Molly mumbled something that sounded like an apology and looked away.

"Hey, you wanna blow this popsicle stand, I ain't gonna keep ya here," Muskateer said as he started to shove the various paraphernalia back into the med bag.

"No," she choked out. "Please, no." She saw the Muskateer look over at her, his face mysteriously covered by a black mask. All she could see were his intense, piercing eyes. "Thank you. For saving me, that is."

"Don't thank me yet, kiddo. It's not like the war's over 'r anything."

Molly grimaced slightly at that thought. She would never truly be safe until that unlikely day finally came. It was almost an impossible thought to the young mutant. But at least she seemed to be safe for now. Muskateer was living proof that it was possible to survive this dreaded and horrible conflict. All Molly knew was that this was the most secure she had felt in a long time. "Is there anyone else here?"

"Just you, me 'n a whole lot of memories," Muskateer answered in a manner that made her choose not to explore that line of questioning any further.

"You bandaged my wounds then?"

"They didn't do it themselves," he countered sarcastically. "I just said there wasn't anybody else here."

"Sorry."

"Speakin' of which, yer probably due to have those changed again. Some nasty cuts there, but I've gotten pretty good at field dressings over the years. Sit down n' let me take a look at 'em."

Molly slowly took her place again on the cot. Whatever Muskateer had given her must have started working already, as the pain seemed to be fleeting. She was feeling a little nauseous and her stomach rumbled its emptiness, but generally she felt better than she had in a long time.

"What's this for?", she asked holding up her arm and indicating the silver bracelet.

"Protection. Not yers, mine." After a pause, and seeing the confused look on her face, he continued. "You don't think I'm gonna let some unknown wander around my place unmonitored, do ya?"

"I guess not," she agreed. "And my clothes...?"

"You call them clothes? Darlin', I burned them as soon as they were offa you. Speakin' of which, you could use a bath yerself, if you catch my meaning."

Molly looked embarrassed for a few moments. Of course, what could one expect from someone who spent most of her nights hiding out in dumpsters. The smell masked her scent from the Hunters, but it wasn't exactly pleasant in close proximity. Molly had simply gotten used to the necessity of it. Until now, being alive was the foremost thought in her mind. Simple things like food and hygiene had taken a back seat in her life.

Muskateer removed his gloves and started cutting and peeling away the layers of bandages on her leg. Molly looked on curiously at first and then turned away in revulsion upon seeing the wounds up close.

"Looking pretty good, actually, kiddo. Considering all the damage that thing did." Grabbing a nearby bottle, Muskateer liberally applied the clear liquid to a new bandage. "This is gonna sting a little."

When the bandage touched the wounds, Molly thought her leg was on fire. She screamed in pain. To her surprise, Muskateer held the bandage tightly in place, rather than withdrawing it. The pain grew even stronger and Molly screamed long and loud. After a lingering moment, the fire in her thigh began to subside. "Okay, a lot," Muskateer said simply, as he re-wrapped the leg.

"Ow. Ow. Ow." Molly said through tears.

"Good thing I already gave you a pain pill. You passed out the first time I started working on it." Molly couldn't even remember what happened since they had left the alley where the HK had tried to kill her. Try as she may, it was a complete blank. "At least I didn't have to cut it off."

She couldn't tell if he was serious or not, and Molly decided not to ask questions, just in case. She closed her eyes and tried to accept the pain, knowing that this routine would be repeated again on her shoulder. "Where are we?", she asked finally, wiping away the last of the tears from her eyes.

"It used to be called Tyler Labs," her companion answered, now having completed his immediate task of bandaging her thigh. "I used to work here. A long time ago." The man seemed lost in that thought.

"What was it like?"

"What was what like?" Muskateer answered her question with one of his own, as he began to unwrap her wounded shoulder.

"Everything, being a hero," she replied. "Before the war."

"Before the war..." That seemed like a difficult concept. The war between the superhumans and normals had started almost eight years ago in July of 1987.

It didn't start out as much. Certainly not what you would have considered as such a global life-changing event. Initially there was a string of worldwide blackouts as power plants were shut down under mysterious circumstances. But these were only a portent of things to come.

No one will ever forget the night that Destroyer made his momentous and ominous announcement. "The world now belongs to Destroyer. Your lives are mine to take or leave as I see fit, for only I am strong enough to be the judge of the world. Thanks to me, humanity will survive and will grow strong. I will solve the major problems facing the world today and put us back on the path for a grand future. There will be those who resist. Permit me to show them the folly of such foolishness."

Destroyer's object lesson was terrifying beyond belief. Neutron bombs rained down on England and the Malachite Islands, killing all living things, but leaving the cities largely intact. Having perfected wide-scale versions of his Torpor Field, Destroyer's targets were unable to fight back. A string of orbital satellites, launched during the blackouts, were the source of the attacks. With one swift stroke, Destroyer had settled several old scores.

Other missiles targeted the San Andreas Fault, triggering unprecedented earthquakes. California slid into the sea, creating a new West Coast. The loss in life from these acts reached into the hundreds of millions.

Less known and publicized was Destroyer's war on all things magical. Squads of Destroids were dispatched to kill any and all mages. The automations performed their task with machine-like precision.

From there, things got worse. Global military targets were repeatedly hammered, leaving the world's nations essentially defenseless against Destroyer. Several villain organizations in alliance with Destroyer struck. VIPER became Destroyer's army in stamping out rebellion, the master criminal having long been the secret ruler of that organization. Eurostar controlled much of Europe, while Terror Incorporated divided up South America, and the Iron Maiden claimed North America.

The mutant army called IMAGE assumed control of Manhattan Island in a violent and bloody conflict. More destruction occurred when Genocide sent in Minutemen robots to eradicate the mutants. Parts from the great robots can still be found today. The island became a haven for any and all mutants. Those normals who stayed became slaves to their mutant masters.

The world's heroes tried to fight back. Raids against Destroyer's satellites were staged, unsuccessfully. His years of studying superbeings were well spent. Using the attackers' weaknesses against them, Destroyer's enemies fell before his legions.

In a desperate last ditch effort, the surviving heroes launched an assault on Destroyer's satellite control center. Most died before entering the base. The Scarlet Sabre was able to load her cybernetic companion, Jaime, into Destroyer's mainframe a second before she was disintegrated. Enraged, Jaime turned the satellite network upon itself, destroying them and all of Destroyer's ground bases. The war was suddenly over.

Or so, the survivors thought. From the ashes of this mindless conflict came a united cry from the people of the Earth. 'It was superbeings who did this to us! We shall take back our world!' Bills were passed outlawing superbeings of any kind and the HPA was created. Volunteers to become Hunters numbered in the thousands. The irony of becoming superhuman to hunt down superbeings seemed to be lost on those involved. Manhattan Island became a blood bath as the HK's ruthlessly hunted down mutants.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," Molly quickly apologized, as Muskateer finished with her bandages.

"Don't mean nothin' anymore," the Avenger announced. "It's all just memories. Kind of like this place." He looked away, staring off into space for a few moments. "Come on, you need to get cleaned up. First, I want to show you something."

The pair stepped out into a long hall. Molly was silent as they headed for the electronic security door at the far end. The Muskateer entered a pass code into the door's access panel and then stood in front of the retinal scanner. A moment later, the door slid open, disappearing sideways into the wall. "After you," the Avenger gestured towards the opening.

A light flared to life as she stepped tentatively into the room. It was much cooler in here than the rest of the base. Molly noticed goose bumps forming on her arms and the tile floor was almost icy under her bare feet. Gazing about, she could see that the room had been damaged, but was now cleaned up as much as possible. Molly's jaw dropped open as she looked about at all the contents. The room looked like some kind of shrine. "What is this place?", she asked in wide-eyed wonder.

"Like I said: just memories." He looked around at the various items he had assembled. On one pedestal table was one of Shockwave's helmets. Muskateer's ex-teammate had perished in the attack against Destroyer. Another stand held the energy sword that the Scarlet Sabre had once used. Nearby was a pillow upon which rested some white feathers. Next to that was an early costume of Firestar, the old orange and yellow one. On and on it went. Trinkets, posters, and other odd items each had their own place.

"I recognize most of these items." Molly looked on with an awed reverence. "Despite what the vid-links kept saying, I always looked up to your kind."

'Your kind'. Even though she was a super herself, a mutant in fact, the hype and propaganda poured out by the HPA tainted even her thoughts.

"That kinda talk can get ya killed, kid." He looked over at her a moment. "'Course, you already got that problem."

"So, how did you keep from getting caught? How did you survive so long? Is this place really safe?" Molly was full of questions.

"When the war went into full swing, I started to take precautions against capture. It was a losing fight ultimately. Supers started runnin' out of reinforcements. Some even joined the other side. They captured people on our side, then the HPA would just kill them all. Simple an' convenient."

"Being an Avenger I hacked into the government computers and Genocide's systems and set off some specialized viruses. They ate information our enemies had on detecting and identifying some of us and replaced it with bogus info. The first director of the HPA was probably surprised as hell when his own HK's ended up hunting him down, thinking it was really Ultimaxx." Steven looked over at the damaged green and copper armor that rested on a rack. He walked over and picked up the helmet.

"I pulled this out of a destroyed tenement. The HPA eventually destroyed an entire building, full of normal civilians, their own civilians, just to get him. Even Ultimaxx couldn't beat an entire building." He set the helmet back in place. Ultimaxx was originally a soldier. He put that occupation aside for awhile as he trained neophyte heroes in the Young Champions program on Sanctuary. After the island was obliterated and the war was in full swing, Ultimaxx, as he came to be known, was a feared and effective warrior again in the fight against the HPA. He and Muskateer had fought side-by-side a few times until his untimely death.

"This place is safe," Steven said, answering her other earlier question. "Don't ask me how. It's a long story."

Some time later, the pair was gathered around a table in another part of the base, sharing a simple meal. For Molly such an event was like a feast. She ate ravenously, the food refueling her depleted strength. She continued to have many questions for the last of the Avengers.

"I ended up taking the name Avenger for a little while. I was the last one. So it seemed appropriate. I still have a few scores to settle, but most of my friends and allies have been avenged."

"The HPA said that those supers who surrendered were exiled to the European colonies," Molly said between bites.

"Kid, anyone who surrendered was interrogated and killed. Sometimes not in that order," he answered gruffly.

Molly shrank back and dropped her fork. "I... I didn't know." She thought back to her own recent experiences. The HPA had said that anyone with superpowers could turn themselves in. In the back of her mind she didn't believe them. That's why she ran in the first place. Turns out she was right. "Is that all you do now is fight?"

"'Bout the only thing I remember for the last eight years. Besides it keeps me busy." He had long since finished eating, now watching her put away her fifth plate of food.

"I was rescued once by Firestar," Molly said, changing the subject as she often did, while the Avenger once more examined the bandage on her shoulder.

"Oh yeah?", he answered. "There was a time when we rescued lots of people."

"What happened to her?"

"To Firestar?"

"Yeah, she was my idol when I was growing up. I saw that you have a costume of hers in your collection." She wasn't sure of the significance of the accumulated items, other than as mementos of fallen friends.

Muskateer paused as he gathered his thoughts. Cassie had been his friend back in their early days with the Avengers. Perhaps they could have been more if she had been just a little older. He decided on a tactful answer. "She was killed by Starfire." There was much more to the story than what he alluded to on the surface of his explanation.

Molly felt saddened by the death of her hero. To Steven Harper she was one of a long list of close friends who had been killed in the war. He had avenged most of their deaths in blood.

Muskateer had not been personally present when Firestar 'died', although he heard of the horror story from those who had been. The surviving members of the Defenders were part of the raid against Destroyer. The master villain was more than prepared, as an army of VIPER Agents and villains stood between the heroes and their objective.

Firestar and Tremor had been engaged to marry. They seemed like the perfect couple, until Tremor was savagely killed by Ripper during the assault. Something inside Firestar snapped as she cradled her love's lifeless and ravaged body in her lap. Tears streaming down her face, a long suppressed second personality fought its way to the surface. In an explosion of flame, Firestar died and Starfire was born.

No longer contained, Cassie's dark side was powerful and ruthless. She reduced Ripper to ashes with barely an effort. The heroes who perished from Starfire's emergence where not even an afterthought. Nightingale, Satara, Icicle, and Polaris were all direct and senseless fatalities in the event that claimed Firestar.

Muskateer had decided long ago that each and every death would be paid for in blood. Revenge was what fueled him now. The name Avenger was now tragically appropriate for the last member of that famous team of superheroes.

The being that came to be known as Starfire resettled in the St. Louis area. As a warped version of her previous self, she must have felt as though she was somehow coming home. However, her homecoming was heralded by a terrifying and deadly trail of blazing conflagrations. Starfire had burned her way across the war-ravaged country, leaving death, destruction and charred ruins in her wake. Her father would have been proud.

Starfire had a malevolent air about her. Her eyes looked back at you with hate and disdain, usually while she was killing you. Her costume was now charcoal gray with dark orange flames outlined in black. It was sinister in appearance and suited her quite perfectly. There appeared to be no part of the woman who was Cassandra Shepard left alive in this body. Now there was just evil.

Anyone who stood in her way was dealt with harshly and definitively. Ashes were now all that remained of five separate heroes who had tried to bring her fury under control. It was difficult to characterize all the influences and causes that were responsible for the death of Cassie. In the end, the only being that Muskateer could bring retribution against was Starfire herself. His overwhelming need to satisfy vengeance left him with no other choice.

Muskateer piloted the Quinnjet towards his target. He had everything in place. Tracking sensors had locked onto the extraordinary power source that was Starfire. He was quickly closing in on her current location. The end would come soon. One way or the other.

"Come to papa, my little flaming psycho," Muskateer mused as he worked a series of controls. "Starfire may be way outta my league when it comes to pure power, but this baby should even up the odds." He glanced back at the device that occupied most of the compartment of the Quinnjet.

A few moments later, Muskateer got a visual confirmation of his target. "Gotta hand it to her. She sure ain't subtle." Starfire lit up the sky like a second sun. A huge trail of fire blazed through the atmosphere. "Very predictable, though." He grinned grimly at that thought. In the back of his mind, Muskateer reasoned that he was about to murder one of his best friends. He quickly banished that thought from his mind.

He continued to close the gap. Starfire hadn't even paid him any notice. He was almost beneath her attention, as she was beyond worry of harm from so insignificant a threat. He would have to prove to her that was a mistake.

Muskateer banked the ship and followed as the enigmatic woman called Starfire irritatedly tried to distance herself from the intrusion. He gunned the accelerator and rapidly closed the distance, going into a corkscrew spin to avoid the flaming blasts that would soon be coming.

Before his eyes, Starfire's flaming corona began to grow in intensity and fury. She turned and hovered in place. Her voice boomed out like an explosion. Muskateer could feel the heat increase even through the ship's shielding. "Prepare to die, annoying insect!!"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that noise before." Muskateer continued to bear down on the unmoving mutant. His gloved fingers stabbed a control near the flight yoke and suddenly Starfire arched her back in pain and threw her hands up to her head. Her screams could be heard for miles away.

Muskateer was smugly satisfied with himself. Technology had severely evened the odds between them. He had designed a neural-jammer that was tuned directly to Cassie's unique physical makeup. Starfire may be a new mental entity, but she still inhabited the same body. Her physiology would be her downfall.

The final killing stroke would have to come hand to hand, but this ambush would allow him to approach the immensely powerful being. Otherwise he would be incinerated long before he could come anywhere near to Starfire. Muskateer maneuvered the craft closer. As he watched, random bursts of flame shot out of the nimbus surrounding his target, like so many solar flares. He cranked up the intensity of the generator.

Somehow, Muskateer wasn't prepared for what happened next. With a long, lingering scream of fury and pain, Starfire seemed to explode in a breath-taking ball of fire.

"Holy shit!!" The Quinnjet was now engulfed in flames. He banked the craft, now unable to see through the cockpit windows. "Time to switch to plan B." Quickly exiting the disabled craft, Muskateer used his grav cycle to speed away to safety.

He watched the last of the Quinnjets spiral downwards and smash into the city below. A flaming pillar erupted as the jet's fuel exploded with a thunderous roar.

"Now to finish the job." Quickly scanning the area, Muskateer could see that Starfire had set down a short distance away. The neural-scrambler was designed to interfere with control of her powers, essentially blocking conscious abilities. "I guess it worked better n' I thought it would."

As he landed his craft nearby, he could see that the fiery nimbus around his quarry was beginning to return. "Treacherous sub-creature!!," Starfire howled at him as he approached, sword drawn. Balls of fire rapidly formed about her hands and her eyes literally burned with hate and loathing.

"You think that was bad, darlin'. I'm about to really rock your world in a sec." Muskateer closed in rapidly.

"I don't know what you did to me, but I am regaining control of my unmatchable powers. You will suffer like none have ever suffered before." Starfire let loose a pair of fireballs. Had she regained complete control of the awesome energies at her disposal, Muskateer would have been vaporized on contact. As it was, he was able to turn aside the flaming attacks on his sword.

The heat in the area was rapidly intensifying. Muskateer's skin was beginning to sear under his armored suit. Breathing was becoming almost impossible, but his rebreather helped him through that. Slowly and painfully, he forced himself closer to the raging inferno. "Death to all who oppose Starfire!!", the mutant raged defiantly.

Hitting a control on a mechanism strapped to his arm, a smaller version of the neural-scrambler hummed to life. Starfire spasmed again and in that moment, Muskateer struck. His blade plunged deep into her chest, as he buried the weapon nearly to the hilt in his former teammate's body. Efficient to the last, Muskateer had struck for the heart and his aim was true as always.

As Starfire convulsed, he grabbed the woman about the waist. He jammed the bloody weapon further still into her body. Starfire went limp in his arms and the flaming nimbus dropped away instantly. Muskateer collapsed to his knees, still cradling Cassie's lifeless body in his arms.

The Avenger pulled his weapon from the dead girl's torso and tossed it aside. He slowly peeled back the mask that concealed her features. "Cassie," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I couldn't save you." He held her in his arms for a long time. It would be the last time Muskateer shed any tears.

Muskateer was snapped out of his morose musings as a klaxon began to wail. The Avenger pulled some kind of remote unit from a compartment in his jacket that had been set over a chair nearby. Pushing a few controls, Muskateer quickly identified the location of the intruder.

"Stay here," he said simply and forcefully, as he rose to his feet. Molly swallowed uncomfortably as she witnessed a noticeable transformation come over the man. He was now all business and even more intense than he had seemed before. His eyes burned fiercely. All she could manage was a brief frightened nod. She watched as Muskateer retrieved the laser rifle that rested against the table and quickly exited the chamber. The doors spun shut and sealed behind him. Molly wondered who the intruder could be and at the same time strangely felt pity for whoever it was when the Avenger caught up with them.

Somehow the intruder had appeared in the underground lab area. That section was completely encircled by other areas of the base, other sensors. Even if someone had penetrated through the defenses from below, they would have set off the seismic sensors, or the magic detectors or something. The structure was shielded against teleportation, desolid invaders and even some forms of dimensional travel. To first be detected right in the middle of the first lower level was extremely unusual. No one had successfully negotiated his defenses in over four years.

Muskateer burst into the media lab, the rifle in his arms humming with power. He fingered the trigger as his eyes scanned the room. A tall blond woman in black had her back to him when he entered. His finger tightened on the trigger, but something deep inside him caused him to pause. The woman had been watching the many monitors that filled one full wall of the lab.

She turned, surprised at the intrusion, and Muskateer finally got a good look at his intruder. "Holy crap!", Muskateer exclaimed. "You're supposed to be dead!"

Standing there before him was none other than the former leader of the Avengers and the Defenders: Black Diamond!

...To Be Continued!

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