I am Fox and my people live through me.

*****

Johnny B. Goode felt like he was flying. It was like all the movies of the cool metas he liked on TV, only way faster. He could feel the wind whipping through his hair, the power of the air currents all around him, and the freedom of soaring though the sky. It was like heaven. Johnny had just one problem.

He couldn’t actually fly.

Johnny struck the earth at several hundred miles per hour. Dirt and rock exploded beneath him and created a storm of dust around him. Slowly he rose from the hole his fall had made. He brushed the dirt from his remaining clothes as he cleared his head.

The area around him looked utterly barren. Dirt, some stones, an occasional patch of grass, but nothing more than that. It reminded him a bit of the parks when he was a kid, back before the destruction, but way less cool. No jungle gyms at all; he couldn’t even find a slide.

He did see a massive wall though. It stretched as far as the eye could see, taking time only to curve to cover both his right and left as he followed its trail. He couldn’t remember ever being this close to the dividing wall before. Jack was always warning him, telling him again and again, “Stay away from there,” or “You could get hurt in the…” What was it? The DMZ, that’s what he called it.

He didn’t see what was so bad about this DMZ place. It seemed sort of nice, quiet.

“Unidentified metahuman!” Johnny looked up from the dirt and back to the wall where the voice was being projected over loud speakers. He wondered if they were talking about him, so he pointed at his chest. “You have entered the line of demarcation. Withdraw immediately or we will open fire.”

Fire? The word reminded him of his battle with Mister Mayor. Sure, Jack used it too, but he was nice enough never to keep it away from him. Not like that other guy back in Downtown. He was mean.

“I don’t like fire.” He spoke the words softly. Jack always told him that he needed to make sure people could hear him when he talked. “No fire!”

They didn’t throw fire at him, but they did start shooting their guns. Johnny scrambled away as bullets rained down around him. He knew they couldn’t really hurt him, but he still didn’t like them. They stung.

“Hold your fire, men!” Johnny looked for the fire again, but he only saw a red, yellow, and white streak descend from the sky. At least the soldiers stopped shooting their guns.

The metahuman did several full circles over Johnny’s head as the young man watched in awe. The flying man slowed and alighted on the ground just in front of Johnny. Johnny recognized the slicked back black hair, the white costume with its gold logo, the red boots and capes. He would recognize Titan anywhere. He remembered reading the legendary metahero’s comic book back when he was just a kid.

“You’re Titan!” Johnny jumped up and down and clapped. “You’re so awesome! I used to have all your stuff. The toys, the lunchbox, even your movie on videotape! You’re the coolest ever!”

Titan arched one prominent eyebrow. “Er… yes, son. That is me. What are you doing in the demilitarized zone?”

“The whatsit?”

“You are from inside the Divide aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah, sure, but I just—”

“You are not allowed in this area, son. The demilitarized zone is the line of demarcation between the Divide and the United States. No one is allowed to enter or leave through it. Any trespassers are to be shot on sight.”

“Oh, that explains the guns.” Johnny shuffled his feet like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I didn’t mean it or anything. It was just an accident.”

Titan patted Johnny on the shoulder. “I’m sure it was, son. This Divide business is a dirty sort, but you and I both must follow the rules of law.” He glanced back at the wall. “If you allow me to escort you back to the boundaries of the Divide, we can end this without any further violence.”

“Are you going to fly me?”

Titan looked at the gleeful excitement on the face of the nearly seven foot tall man in front of him. “I suppose that can be arranged. Turn around and raise your arms up a couple inches. Keep them locked there, okay?”

Johnny nodded. He felt Titan’s hands touch the back of each of his upper arms. Less than a second later, Johnny felt his feet leave the ground. He couldn’t contain his glee.

“Woo hoo! Thanks, Titan, this is great!”

“What’s your name, son?”

“Johnny. I don’t really have a last name no more, but my friend Jack calls me Johnny B. Goode.”

Titan curved in a half-circle in the air before suddenly starting a zigzag motion. Johnny again whooped with joy.

“One more question, Johnny. How old are you?”

“Uh… well…” Johnny fell silent.

“What is it, Johnny?”

“Well, Jack told me never to tell anyone I don’t know really well how old I am.”

Titan gently descended to the ground at the edge of the DMZ. Johnny clapped with joy at his ride and Titan gave him a broad grin.

“Now who do you know better than me, Johnny? Didn’t you say you owned all my toys and read all my comics?”

“Well, yeah, I guess so.” Johnny scratched the whiskers on his chin. “I just don’t want to make Jack mad. He’s been a real good friend to me.”

“I promise not to tell if you promise not to tell.”

“Okay, Titan, as long as you can keep a secret.” Johnny leaned in close to Titan’s ear. “I’m ten,” he whispered.

“How is that possible?”

“I’m a little big for my age.”

Titan glanced back at the border wall only a few hundred yards away. He turned back to Johnny. “It is a travesty you’re forced to stay here, Johnny. But I can’t do anything to change it, at least not right now. I promise that I will find away to make this blasted place whole again. I swear it.”

“Gee, that’s mighty cool of you, sir.”

“Will you be able to get home all right, Johnny?”

“Sure. I’ve done it a lot of times. I mean, I’m fourteen, not eight.”

“So you are. Farewell, Johnny. Be careful and I am certain we will see each other again.”

“I sure hope so, Titan. You’re the best.”

Titan only smiled as he rose in to the air. He shot off a quick salute to Johnny which Johnny quickly and excitedly returned. Then he disappeared in a flash of movement.

Johnny couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he headed back to home.

*****

“You screwed us! You let our people die for nothing at fucking all!”

Jack Flash didn’t back down from the fury Bulldog projected. They stood on the veranda outside the Kennel, the Dogpack’s home base. The other senior members of the Dogpack flanked Bulldog, and none of them looked too happy. Jack knew this would happen, had even planned for it, but he didn’t think they would be quite so violent about it. He silently cursed himself for being too damn trusting in the basic decency of human beings. If the Divide should teach anything, it was that such a thing did not exist.

Jack held up his copy of the DVD-rom. “I did what I had to do. We needed the information that Skull could provide to us, but we had to get it out of there. This contains the only surviving data on Devastation Day. With it we may be able to finally—”

“We don’t need your true believer bullshit, Flash!” Bulldog looked over at Chihuahua. The Bitch looked Bulldog’s way, and the small deformed man at her side followed her gaze.

“Let me take him out, boss. We don’t need his ass anymore.”

Everyone in the room stood silent as Chihuahua slowly reached up and scratched his elongated nose. He nodded.

Bulldog grinned, and Pitbull moved to his side. They closed in on Jack. Jack took a step back and contemplated his chances of living through an extended battle with an entire street gang. He figured it at absolutely no chance at all.

“Look, guys. I know I—”

“Call your men off, Chihuahua. Flash leaves with me.” All eyes turned towards the street. An aging man sat on the back of a seventies-style stunt bike. Though it looked as though it had suffered thirty years of use, the motorcycle was nearly silent as it idled. The man on its back pulled the dark half-mask off of his head, revealing craggy skin and a receding hairline that nonetheless fell to his shoulders. He gave his audience a cocky grin beneath his scruffy beard as he dismounted his bike.

“You’ve got every reason to be mad at this chump, but I can’t let you hurt him, Chihuahua. He works for me now.”

“You have no say here, Double Cross. This is Dogpack territory. We respect you, but we won’t let you stick your nose in to our business.”

Double Cross walked towards Chihuahua. He gave Pitbull and Bulldog each a nod in turn as he passed them. The Bitch he gave both a nod and a smarmy grin, before he turned his attention back to Chihuahua. “You really want to call me out on this, friend? I’m old but not so old that I couldn’t kick all your asses, ‘specially with Jack here at my side.”

Chihuahua gritted his teeth. A low growl rose from his throat as he stood unmoving before Double Cross. Jack Flash looked on with mixed anticipation and worry. He was ready for a fight though, if it came to that. He didn’t think it would though. Even the Dogpack wasn’t stupid enough to cross the meanest son of a bitch in the Divide.

“Fine,” Chihuahua said. “You want the sorry bastard you take him. But if me or any of my dawgs see him in our territory again, he will wish we let him die quick and easy today. You get me?”

“We hear you.” Double Cross looked over to Jack and gave him a wink. “And I promise that good ol’ Jack here wouldn’t even think of bothering you or your people again. And I’m nothin’ if not a man of my word, right?”

“Just take him and go.”

Double Cross looked at Jack. “You heard the man. Let’s roll.”

Double Cross turned to head back to his bike. Bulldog cut him off. “I should tear out your throat you son of a bitch.”

Double Cross shot forward with blinding speed. After images streaked behind him as he struck a swift and brutal chop to Bulldog’s throat. Bulldog staggered back and fell to one knee. He clutched at his throat as he struggled for air.

“That could just as easily been a killing blow, hombre. Don’t get in my face again.” Double Cross walked away from the struggling man. He went straight back to his motorcycle. He climbed in to the leather seat, yanked the mask back over his hair and eyes. Jack walked up behind Double Cross and looked at him and the bike.

“Don’t just stand their gawking like a damn fool. Climb on the back of the bike before the pack changes their mind and tears you a new asshole.”

“Yes, sir.” Jack scurried on to the seat behind Double Cross. The older man kick-started the cycle (with barely any engine noise) and pulled out in to the streets. Within seconds they were cruising down the wasted streets of Old Detroit, zigging and zagging around loose rock, people, and massive potholes. Jack feared for his very life as the old man put on the speed.

They shot down the streets of the Divide and Jack knew they could only have one eventual destination. It was time to go to the Q-Zone. One way or another, the Antagonist’s days as the boss of bosses would soon be over.

*****

Though the sky was overcast above him, Archibald Griffin still wore his dark pair of sunglasses. He always wore his sunglasses. From the looks of the ne’er-do-wells in this sado-masochistic exercise its residents called a city, he supposed he could just as well do without them. But in his many years working for MI-0, he had grown accustom to wearing them. Even if they served to provide the opposite effect than their intent. He couldn’t help but feel more conspicuous in the mass of filthy humans, strange degen creatures, and strangely garbed metahumans. The population of the Borough, just northeast of Downtown, was a wild and varied lot.

He was British and varied was not his cup of tea. Give me the elaborate, intricate style of London and its relatively simple easy to understand population over this mass of insanity any day. He scanned his shaded eyes over the street again. The sooner I find her the better. Once this girl tells me what I need to know, I can be rid of her and that much closer to leaving this hellhole.

He honestly didn’t even know why he drew this service in the first place. After forty years in Her Majesty’s Special Occult Investigations Unit, it seemed to him he deserved more than surveillance work in the ass end of America.

Archibald glanced down at his wrist chronometer. She was overdue. Her food runs came everyday between eleven thirty and noon. Now it was already 12:14 and still no sign of her.

She comes to one of these grocers every day. It’s only a matter of time before she does so today.

Just a matter of time.

Where the hell is she?

“You’re really going to have to get better at this whole watching out thing. Especially when your target can not only detect that you’re another psion but also read those dirty little surface thoughts you have about your little trap.” He felt the tip of a dagger dig deep in to his back.

“I mean you no harm, young lady. I only wish to ask you a few questions. I wish to know about the Garden.”

“Go fuck yourself.” He felt the blade push harder in to his back.

It all happened in a blink of the eye, but for Griffin it felt like much longer. As Flower stabbed the dagger forward, Griffin lunged towards the ground. The blade sliced through the back of his coat, but otherwise he was unharmed.

He rolled as he landed. His right hand went up to his glasses and pulled them away from his eyes. Light flooded out of them and over Flower. He shut his eyes and felt the light burn against his eyelids. He counted silently: one-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand. He opened his eyes and the energy burst forth over Flower.

It caught her square in the gut. She keeled over as if by a heavyweight boxer’s blow. Griffin slid the glasses up and over his eyes. He climbed to his feet and tackled her.

The dagger clattered away as he wrestled her to the ground. He slammed his fist down hard on her cheek. He heard a sharp crack as her head struck back against the concrete. Flower did not move.

Archibald Griffin regained his footing. He looked around at the crowd around them. A few gawkers quickly turned back to their own business, but for the most part no one paid them any mind.

He lowered the glasses down on to the end of his nose. The blue light again flooded out from his eyes as it always did. He brought the beams down over Flower’s head. Images began to flash directly from her head to his own. He started the long tedious process of digging through the mess of disjointed thoughts and repressed memories in search of what he needed.

“AAAAAH!” Griffin turned away as suddenly his brains were on fire. His hands clutched over his eyes as he stumbled back a step. It felt as though the blue fire would rip free of his very soul if he didn’t find away to keep it in.

A sudden push caught him in the gut. By the time he realized it was Flower, he was already stumbling back again. His step back took him over the lisp of the manhole behind him. The manhole suddenly without a cover.

He fell back and down in to the sewers. He crashed in to a semi-solid mass of garbage and goo. The odor was absolutely retched, but he was still grateful for the breaking of his fall. The agony in his skull was slowly fading as he looked back up the opening above.

Flower rubbed a hand against the back of her skull as she looked back down at him. “You shouldn’t have messed with me, Brit. You shouldn’t have asked questions that no one is ready to hear the answers for. In this town, that kind of thing will get you killed. But on the positive side, at least you will see them coming.”

Flower stepped away and the manhole cover floated over to fill its place in the ground.

Utter darkness surrounded him. Griffin pulled the glasses from his eyes. Blue light flooded the sewer tunnels.

His vision fell on a white and gray mass of gelatinous flash before him. The creature stood about five feet tall and was completely headless. In the head’s place were five long squid-like tentacles. The appendages flailed out towards him.

Its thoughts were utterly alien, unlike anything he ever read before. Griffin stumbled back from the monster. His footing slipped in the sticky fluid at his feet and he fell.

He landed against a surprisingly soft wall. He caught his breath as the creature shambled away from him. I’m safe, he thought. Now I just need to find a way out of here.

He felt something slowly move across his shoulder. It left a liquid film across his jacket as it moved. He tried to sit up, but whatever it was held him fast.

Archibald Griffin took a deep breath. He turned and looked at the “wall”. Dozens of the tentacle creatures stood side by side. Their skins melded with one another in to an almost solid surface. More tentacles reached down and wrapped themselves around his head, chest, and shoulders. He could only scream. Screams that went unheard in the catacombs of the city’s sewers.