The Hands of Braxis

Part Two: The New Gang in Town

Cover: Front-view of a group of a twelve tough-looking guys on Harley Davidson motorcycles. Braxis's face in the background. Text across bottom: The New Gang in Town

"ou think he's in there?" said Detective Royce. He, Marilyn Dobbs, and there uniformed officers had just pulled up to a large house on Rosewood Circle. There were no cars in the driveway, and no obvious signs of break-in. The grass hadn't been cut in a while, but, much to the neighbors annoyance, that was the lawn's usual state. The place looked about as deserted as it could without giant cobwebs on the door and bats circling the attic.

"One way to find out," said Marilyn. She drew her service-issue weapon, a .357-sig semiautomatic and watched as one of the other officers pulled his patrol car into the driveway to block the garage. "You got the warrant?"

"Yup," said Royce. "Had to cash in a few favors. And I left out the bit about the psychic."

"Thanks."

"Any time. We ready?"

Dobbs signaled to the other officers. Two of them went around to the rear of the house. Two more joined Dobbs and Royce at the front door. The remaining cop remained in his patrol car.

"Kick the door down," whispered Royce when they reached the front door and stood on either side of it. "I just love to see New York cops in action."

"Nooo... that's not the way we do it," said Dobbs. She rang the doorbell and shouted: "POLICE! WE HAVE A WARRANT TO SEARCH THE PREMISES!" She turned back to Royce and nodded. "NOW we kick the door down."

CRASH!

The door flew open under the simultaneous assault from Royce and Dobbs. They rushed into the dark house; the other two cops burst in through the back. Guns and flashlights waved back and forth as they quickly searched the hallways, closets and bathrooms. The two teams met in the living room. Dobbs and Royce started toward the kitchen, the others headed up the stairs.

"Nothing so far," said Royce.

"Maybe Madam Eve is just as full of crap as I'd first guessed. But we got a garage and a whole other floor to search. Hey..." Dobbs stopped walking and sniffed. "Hey, What's that smell-"

"THERE!" Royce pointed to the kitchen... a shadowy figure wearing a hat and a trenchcoat flashed across their field of view, heading from the kitchen to the garage. "GOT HIM!" Royce raised his weapon, but Dobbs kicked it out of her partner's hand. "WHAT the HELL did you-"

"GAS! THE HOUSE IS FULL OF GAS! EVERYBODY OUT!"

The officers bolted for the doors... Dobbs came close to breaking a world's record for fastest sprint as she and the others evacuated the house.

"GO! GO! GO! GO!" she shouted. The officers jumped in their cars and filled the afternoon quiet with screeching tires as they pulled out. As the car in the driveway sped away... in reverse... the driver noticed that the garage door was opening. He reached for his radio-

vvvVVVVVVRRROOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM!

The black 1994 Corvette with tinted windows roared by him so loudly and so suddenly that the officer thought the house had exploded. All that came out over the radio was-

"HEEEEYYYYYYY!!!"

"THERE HE GOES!" Dobbs shouted. Royce was just getting into the passenger seat... which was a good thing because Dobbs had already started driving away. "WE'RE ON HIM!"

The street became a circus of police vehicles trying to turn around and pursue the Corvette. All they'd managed to do for the first few seconds was get in each other's way, and by the time Dobbs got her car pointed in the right direction the black Corvette was two blocks away. She put the accelerator to the floor and the car took off. The radio squawked to life as the other officers called for back-up.

The faster patrol cars zoomed past Dobb's vehicle, but were nowhere close to catching the souped-up Corvette. Their quarry streaked down the residential street at well over 100 miles per hour. The car's engine roared like something that belonged in either a zoo or on a racetrack... any pedestrian that was still in the vicinity when he passed was either deaf or stupid.

"The old 'cut the gas line on the stove' trick, eh?" said Jason. "Nice move." There was no one beside him in the car's passenger seat... no one living, at least.

"That's what I'm here for," Donovan replied.

"Oh, is THAT what your job is? I was wondering about that..."

"They're trying to cut you off."

Behind him... far behind him... two patrol cars veered off onto side streets and sped up, trying to pass Jason and cut him off at some distant intersection. Another patrol car accelerated rapidly, coming up fast behind him.

Jason put the gas pedal to the floor. The hard acceleration threw him back into the leather seat. He left the speeding patrol car behind and easily passed the cops on the side streets...

"Wait a minute," said Jason. "I'm going the wrong way... HOLD ON!"

Jason hit the breaks. The Corvette dropped from 150 to about 100 miles per hour. He hit the gas again, veered left to get some room, then made a hard right at an intersection. The car's performance tires screeched and smoked... but kept the car on the road. The cop behind him attempted a similar maneuver, but lost control and sideswiped a $500,000 house.

Jason eased the Corvette back up to its previous reckless speed. He roared through another intersection about five seconds ahead of the two other patrol cars... who narrowly avoided colliding with each other as they both turned to follow him.

Less than a minute after the chase had begun, Jason left the residential area and hit the main highway. Once there, his speed increased from reckless to insane. Other cars had no time to react to his presence... once they saw him in the rear view mirror he was already shooting past them.

"This guy's driving like a maniac!" said Royce.

"No, he's driving like he REALLY doesn't want to get caught," said Dobbs. "And he ain't gonna stop. If we don't stop him in the next few minutes he's likely to kill someone."

"We damn sure aren't gonna catch him in THIS thing!"

"Maybe... maybe not. We got two major intersections coming up... one is a junction with the interstate... the other is where Highway 34 meets Highway 156."

"He's going for the interstate. Open road... clear shot for the county line."

"That's what he wants us to think. There's nothing out highway 156 but woods and farmland... plenty of places to hide. I bet that's where he's going, and we can beat him there."

"BEAT him? Perhaps you weren't paying attention when he smoked past us like a cruise missile!"

"We can get there before him... because HE'S gonna stay on the road."

"Wha- Dobbs, don't!"

Dobbs planted her foot on the accelerator veered off of the highway. Thankfully the road had no guardrail. Dobbs and Royce hit the open countryside. The car bounced and rattled across rocks and small hills, navigated around the occasional oak tree, and cut through one farmer's abandoned pasture... all at over 80 miles per hour. Suddenly the land made a steep downward incline that put the car on an unstoppable collision-course with Highway 156.

Meanwhile, Jason Brooks shot past the Interstate entrance ramp, where the police were already attempting a roadblock. Even if he'd been going onto the interstate highway they couldn't have stopped him... he would have zoomed past them an instant before they were ready to block the ramp. Instead, the cops watched the black Corvette pass. Then they hopped into their cars and joined the pursuit... pulling out onto the highway just as the other patrol cars were arriving.

The result was loud... expensive... and very entertaining for anyone not directly involved in the crash. Two police cars became piles of vaguely car-shaped metal capped with flashing red and blue lights. A third vehicle swerved to avoid the first two... it lost control, went into a spin, and still ended up side-swiping one of the wrecked cars. The fourth cop plowed into the whole mess head-on.

Exactly six miles and two minutes later, Jason hit the breaks and yanked hard on the wheel, causing the 'Vette to spin around twice and come to rest pointing east on Highway 156. Jason put the accelerator to the floor and was gone.

...meanwhile...

"HOLD ON!"

Marilyn intended to move out onto the highway and bring the car to a halt across both lanes. There was a large ditch on one side of the road and a steep incline on the other... there was no way for Brooks to avoid her without hitting one of them.

The plan didn't even come close to working.

The car rolled down the incline with Marilyn's foot firmly planted on the breaks. The land flattened out just as the front tires hit the asphalt. That's when the motorcycles appeared. There seemed to be a hundred of them, but really there were only slightly more than a dozen... all driving in perfect formation, headed west into town. Marilyn was on a collision course with the lead bike. She veered to the left... the lead bike sped around behind her, and the three bikes immediately behind it zoomed past her front, missing her hood by inches. Again, Marilyn swerved to avoid them. The car lost traction, spinning in circles as it skidded across the narrow road.

The rear of the spinning car went right off the asphalt and into the deep ditch on the other side. The car dropped suddenly and came to rest with the front end pointed towards the sky. For the next few seconds, the roar of motorcycle engines filled the air as the bikes continued on their way.

Not five seconds later, Jason Brooks' speeding Corvette passed the stranded cops. He didn't even slow down.... not even a little bit.

Marilyn Dobbs sat in the driver's seat and watched the sky with arms tightly folded across her chest. The radio cracked and, amid the loud cursing and blasts of static, she managed to piece together what she'd already figured out on her own... the pursuit was over, Brooks had gotten away.

"We're gonna catch hell for his," said Dobbs.

"Hell's not so bad," Royce replied.

ve was well into her second large glass of homemade lemonade when she heard the noise outside. At first she thought she'd imagined it, but as the sound grew louder she knew that it was as real as it was ominous. She remembered it. Not just from the times she'd heard it in real life, but also from the vision she'd had this morning.

A motorcycle.

Not just ONE... but lots of them. And they were all around her trailer... surrounding it, with more arriving every second. One by one, she heard the loud, savage engines shut off. Then she heard footsteps on the gravel outside.

Eve stood and grabbed her purse. She sifted through the make-up and assorted packs of chewing-gum until she located the mace. Not the cute little keychain-mace, but the huge ugly black canister that weighed down the handbag like a small brick. She dropped the purse and carried the mace with her to the door.

Someone knocked.

"Who is it?" said Eve. She peered through the peep-hole. There were three people standing on her porch... all were wearing leather jackets and jeans. Dark tinted helmets hid their faces. Out in the yard the rest of the bikers were leaning on their bikes as if posing for pictures in a biker magazine. Only instead of beer and whiskey, they were guzzling fruit juice and spring water. Eve could only see four of them, but she knew there were more that she COULDN'T see.

"Is this... Madam Eve?" said the man in the front. He was thinner and clearly less-threatening than the other two. He reached up and removed his helmet, revealing a head of short, perfectly groomed hair that must have been a very dramatic shade of black at one time. It was dark-grey now, with a dignified peppering of white. He looked to be in his early fifties. His handsome face was thin, clean-shaven, and completely devoid of the scars and tattoos that Eve would have expected for a biker. In fact, the man looked like he belonged behind the wheel of an expensive Mercedes rather than on a bike. The jeans, leather jacket and bike helmet seemed strikingly out of place on him. He should have been wearing a tailored suit... or a doctor's coat. The man's blue-grey eyes seemed to peer through the peephole at Eve. His thin lips curled up into a boyish smile that was straight out of the Andy Griffith Show. "Is anybody home?" he said. "Eve?"

"Do I know you?" she replied. She didn't know him, of that she was sure. But she HAD seen his face before... in the same place she had last heard the demonic roar of those motorcycles. But that didn't necessarily mean he meant her harm. It just meant she had to be careful.

"I'm afraid you don't," said the old man. His voice was completely devoid of accents and dialects... as if he'd intentionally eliminated all trace of them from his speech. Yet he spoke with an honest and warm combination of words, tone, and facial expression that politicians had been trying to fake since the beginning of time.

"My name is Anthony... Anthony Braxis. We've come a long way; and I'd like to speak with you if I can."

"I'm sorry," said Eve. "I only see people with appointments. And you don't have one."

"I certainly understand that, Ms. Eve. You must be very busy. How does one go about making an appointment?"

There was no question as to whether the man was being sarcastic or not... Eve doubted there was a single sarcastic bone in the man's body. He honestly wanted to make an appointment. Or at least he SEEMED to...

"Just come back later," she said.

"Okay," said the man. "I hope we didn't disturb you. I know the cycles are a bit loud, but there's really no better way to tour the countryside... wouldn't you agree?"

"I wouldn't know," said Eve.

"Oh, believe me there's nothing like it."

Eve halfway expected Braxis to invite her for a ride. He didn't.

"Well, if you're sure you can't see me now, I guess I'll be on my way."

Braxis turned to leave. Eve eyed the other bikers as they got ready to depart. Some were packing away their drinks. A One was checking a road atlas. Certainly nothing sinister in any of them, least of all in Braxis. Eve thought back to her vision... all she'd seen was the man's face. He wasn't doing or saying anything specific, he was just THERE. It was the other man... Jason Brooks... that was running around shooting people. A few hours ago, Eve heard on the radio that the cops had bungled his capture and allowed him to escape. He was out there... but how did he connect to these people? The vision wasn't clear, but if Eve had to guess, she'd say that these bikers were fated to cross paths with Brooks... and so was SHE. It was all so confusing. But perhaps there was a way she could clear things up....

"Sir..." she called after Braxis. He turned back around. "What is it that you want? A reading? I don't do future-"

"Oh, no, no said Braxis as he approached the door once again. "You see... I know you must get your fill of curiosity-seekers, but I've always been fascinated by psychics."

"Oh, really?" Eve looked into the man's eyes... and then past them, into his mind. She saw motorcycles riding down the highway... and that was it. Motorcycles and open land.

"Yes," said Braxis. "Someone very close to me had the Gift. She died a long time ago, but-"

"I don't do that kind of thing," said Eve. Braxis just smiled. "What do you want?" she repeated.

"Just to talk," he replied. "Share some experiences. Maybe you could show me your talent... for which I will gladly pay..."

"You some kind of para-psychologist? Here to de-bunk me and make me out to be a fraud?"

Braxis looked honestly offended. He blinked rapidly and stepped back as if struck.

"Oh, I- I would never-"

"Never mind." Eve immediately regretted what she'd said. "Okay, just a few minutes. Hold on."

Eve placed her canister of mace on the floor under her chair, then went back and opened the door. Braxis looked even more as handsome and friendly in full view than he did through the peep-hole. He looked at her and smiled. There was a brief flash of emotion on his face that Eve barely caught... disappointment. And a bit of confusion... as if he'd been expecting someone ELSE to be on the other side of the door. That brief flash was enough to make Eve reconsider her decision to let him in. Exactly what had this man been expecting? Why was he here?

Her sudden reluctance must have shown on her face. Braxis quickly covered his confusion with a smile that seemed just as genuine as the one's he'd flashed before.

"Just you," she said. She eyed the other bikers with suspicion.

"Oh, the boys wouldn't dream of imposing on you. They'll be fine where they are; its such a lovely day to be outside anyway."

Eve shrugged and motioned for Braxis to sit down. She locked the door behind him, and then sat across from him at the table. Her foot rested beside the can of mace on the floor.

Eve tried to scan his mind again. She got the same thing as before: motorcycles rolling across open countryside. She studied it a bit longer this time. His thoughts had an unnatural intensity that raised a warning in Eve's mind. It was obviously some kind of diversion... an image that he was focussing on to prevent her from reading his true intentions. Either that or he had a seriously unhealthy love of motorcycles. Perhaps if she engaged him in a conversation he'd drop his guard long enough for her to catch a glimpse of what was REALLY going on in his mind.

"You like to ride bikes," said Eve.

"One doesn't need to be psychic to see that," Braxis replied. He shifted in his chair, making him self comfortable.

"You wanted to talk..." Eve's voice took on a slightly flirtatious tone. "Here I am. Maybe we can start with you telling me who you are, Mr. Braxis."

"It's DOCTOR Braxis, actually."

Eve caught a flash from the man's mind. There was blood...but not violence. People in white gathered around a table... bright lights... a man with a scalpel...

"A surgeon," said Eve.

"Very good!" Braxis said with a smile. "My specialty was neurosurgery... I was a brain surgeon."

"Was?" said Eve. Braxis was old.. but certainly didn't look old enough to retire. "Not any more?"

"There was an accident," he said. He paused, then chuckled. "A motorcycle accident, actually... I guess there's nothing to that old saying about brain surgeons being smarter than everybody else. A cycle ruined my career, and here I am still riding."

"Why?"

"A man's gotta have a hobby, right?"

"I suppose."

"My hobby used to be the same as my work... helping people. I was one of the best surgeons in the country. Probably the world. I operated on tumors that no other surgeon would even think about. I was like one of those 'gifted specialists' on the TV shows that always shows up at the last minute to save the day. You know, people say that doctors... surgeons especially... are egotists that are addicted to their own power. That's true... the addiction part, anyway. I got addicted to helping people. Saving people's lives. To see someone up and walking around who would have been dead if it weren't for me... that's better than any drug ever created by man OR nature. But the nervous system is a delicate thing. One back injury and all of a sudden my hands aren't nearly as strong or steady as they were. No one wants a brain-surgeon with shaky hands, so I had no choice but to retire."

"I'm sorry."

Braxis shrugged.

"I'd already made enough money that I didn't need to work anymore... I was just working to feed my addiction. I decided to tour the country along with a few friends... and former patients."

"Surgeon-groupies?" said Eve. "That's a new one."

Braxis smiled.

"But you know... I still miss it terribly. Saving lives. Helping people. Do you know what I mean, Ms. Eve?"

"No, but I can imagine."

"You don't think there's anything wrong with that, do you? With wanting to help people? And not just for my own ego, either... I DO still honestly want to see people get well. To ease their pain... eliminate their suffering. If I could rid the world of disease and infirmity then I'd do it in a heartbeat... even if no one but me ever knew about it. Is there anything wrong with that?"

"No. Not at all. The world needs more people who are willing to help each other. I guess."

"Good. I'm so glad you feel that way."

Eve suddenly became uncomfortable sitting across from Dr. Braxis. The way he was looking at her... the way his last words carried a tone of dreary finality, like the final words of a eulogy. Something was not right.

Braxis leaned forward and placed his hands on the table. He locked eyes with Eve.

"Give me the girl," he said.

"E-excuse me?" said Eve. "What... what girl?"

"Oh, you know who I'm talking about. I know this is abrupt and confusing, but I'll be perfectly willing to explain it all to you... once I have the girl. Give her to me, now, please."

"There is no 'girl' here," said Eve. She reached down for the mace...

"A daughter? A niece? I know you're protecting her. She has the Gift, just like you. Maybe you want to keep her from being exploited... but that's not what I'm here to do. I'm here to help... to help us all..."

"I think maybe that motorcycle accident hurt you more than you thought, because right now you're sounding a few fries short of a Happy Meal."

Braxis reached out for Eve. It wasn't a sudden lunge or an attack, he simple extended his hand as if he were going to grasp her arm in friendship. Eve wasn't having it. She leapt from her chair and backed away from the table. When Braxis came after her, she gave him a generous dose of the mace she'd hidden behind her back.

"AAAAGH!" Braxis's hands instinctively went to his burning eyes... leaving Eve free to bolt safely past him to the door. In her rush to escape, Eve forgot about the bikers outside. She remembered when she opened the door and two of them lunged at her. One man was a burly bear of a man with a thick black beard. The other's face was still hidden behind a tinted helmet. She sprayed the big man with mace, and kicked the other one in the crotch. The other bikers converged on the trailer. Eve stepped back inside and locked the door.

"You really shouldn't have done that," said Braxis. Eve was shocked that he could speak... the mace was the same as the police used... it should have incapacitated him for a half-hour at the very least. But instead of rolling around blindly on the floor, Braxis was wiping a few drops of moisture from his eyes as if he'd merely gotten a bit too close to a raw onion. "Now... now I'm going to have to make this unpleasant. I don't want to, but if you don't tell me where the girl is then I'll have no choice."

"WHAT girl? I don't KNOW any girl!"

"You do. There's never been a mistake before... I know she's here... she's close! YOU know where she is!"

Braxis walked towards her. Eve still clung to her canister of mace; she held it protectively in front of her. Braxis looked at it, shook his head, and smiled...

"ou DO know that the cops are combing the city looking for you," said Donovan. "Right?"

"Let 'em comb," Jason replied. The black Corvette roared down the deserted highway at just under twice the speed limit. It had been several hours since the cops had utterly bungled their attempt to catch him. Jason wasn't foolish enough to think that was all due to his driving skills... the cops screwed their own selves out of the capture; he just happened to be there to take advantage of their incompetence. And it felt good. "Hell, the can comb all they want... until they get some faster patrol cars and better drivers, all they're gonna get is embarrassed."

"And where exactly did you learn to drive like a maniac?"

"Knight Rider, The Dukes of Hazzard, and every James Bond movie ever made," said Jason.

"I suppose your choice of... and I use the term loosely... 'entertainment,' explains why you have foolishly decided NOT to flee the city."

"The hero never gets run out of town, don't you know that? This is my town... I have the advantage here. I know the streets, the layout, and the people. You want me to go somewhere completely unknown and fight the legions of hell? I don't think so. After I've finished kicking some demon ass I'd at LEAST like to know where I can get a good Philly Cheese Steak."

"I must admit, you have a very... unique... view of things, Jason. But there is the small matter of the ongoing manhunt for you."

"We'll deal with that when we get to it."

"We've ALREADY gotten to it. Choosing to ignore it will only-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. We're almost there."

"Where? Where are we going?"

"There's no way the cops should have been able to trace me to that house today. That cop with the funky aura said something about Madam Eve. I figure the bad guys had some supernatural help."

"You know this 'Eve' person?"

"No. But I've passed by her place a couple of times... she's one of those cheesy road-side psychics. But if we got demons dropping her name then maybe she's not as cheesy as she seems, right?"

"And when we get there, you intend to... what?"

"Do the thing with the aura... you know... check her out."

Somewhere in the Corvette, Donovan smiled.

"You're starting to learn," he said.

"Whatever."

The car topped a high hill and roared down the other side. Madam Eve's small trailer squatted at the bottom of the hill... surrounded by about thirty Harley Davidson motorcycles.

"She must be a popular lady," said Jason. He yanked the car off the road and slammed on the breaks. He skidded to a halt in front of the row of impressive, and expensive, bikes. Leather-clad Bikers eyed the Corvette suspiciously. Some looked back at the trailer as if expecting someone to emerge. A couple of others approached the car. Jason watched them... studied the stagnant brownish-orange auras that surrounded each of them.

"Remember these guys?" said Jason. He grabbed his hat and placed it on his head. He pulled it down so that it partially obscured his face, then adjusted his dark sunglasses. "We passed 'em on the highway a few hours ago. Wonder what they're doing here?"

"Their presence is probably not coincidence."

"Nooo... really?" said Jason as he checked his guns. "Their auras look like crap. They're up to something."

"You didn't mention that when we passed them before."

"Didn't matter before. But I think that's about to change."

Jason threw the driver's side door open and stepped out slowly and confidently, like a gunfighter in an old western. His long trenchcoat hid his weaponry from the biker's curious eyes. Other than the fact that there were a LOT of them, the men didn't look all that menacing. But their auras told a different story.

"You gentlemen here to see Madam Eve?" said Jason.

"Uh-huh," said one of the bikers. He was a big guy with a short, scraggly beard and a bandanna tied around his head. "She's kinda busy right now."

"Riiiiight."

"Jason... by the door."

Jason looked over at the trailer's front door. One of the bikers was sitting on the porch, leaning against the wall with his face in his hands. He looked like he was crying. Another man, this one still wearing his bike helmet, was stumbling off of the porch with his hand clamped firmly to his own crotch. He was doing the classic 'somebody just kicked me in the testicles' dance that every man knows instinctively from birth.

"What's up with those two?" said Jason.

"What's it to you?" replied the big man. Several other bikers were now heading toward's Jason. "You a cop or something?"

"You might say that."

"That means 'no,'. That means you should probably run along and mind your own business, boy."

"Ummmm... did you just call me 'boy'?"

"Look," said another of the bikers... a shorter, younger man. In fact, the 'man' was probably closer to 18 or 19 years old. "We don't want any trouble. We're just here to take care of some business."

"What business would that be... boy?" said Jason.

A half-dozen bikers had now arranged themselves in a semi-circle before Jason, effectively blocking his view of the trailer... and of anything else. All he could see was a wall of leather jackets and mean expressions.

Jason stepped back and tried to see around them.

"So what we got here?" he said. "Satanic ritual? Child sacrifice? What's Eve up to in there?"

"Just go," said the first biker. "Trust me... you'll be better off if you just let us do what we came to do. EVERYBODY will be better off."

Jason said nothing for a few moments. Then-

"Okay. See you guys around later... nice meeting you..." He extended his hand, and the big biker moved back suddenly, as if he were afraid of it. He wasn't quite quick enough, though. Jason's hand entered the biker's murky aura-

...there was an apartment building. Old and decrepit. The hallways were dark... cramped... not nearly wide enough for the old black woman to get past the bikers that were blocking her escape. She turned and hobbled back the other way, moving as fast as she could. She looked like she could be someone's grandmother... but she was scared out of her mind.

"Hep!" she cried. "Sumbody HEP me!"

"You're the psychic," said one of the bikers... the young man that has spoken to Jason earlier. "You mean you didn't see this coming!? HA!"

Another group of men came toward her from the opposite end of the hall. She was trapped. She turned to one of the apartment doors and started banging on it with her gnarled, wrinkled fists.

"HEP! PLEEAASE!"

"Now, now," said another voice. This was an older man with a handsome face. He walked up to the woman. The old lady saw him and screamed. She turned to run, but he caught her from behind. He clamped his hand over the bottom of her face...
"No more screaming," he said. He let her go a second later.... And when he took his hand away... the lady HAD NO MOUTH!...

"WHOOOOAAAA" Jason blurted as he stepped away from the biker. The vision faded as soon as he lost contact with the man's aura... but he'd already seen what he needed to see. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! HOLD the freakin' PHONE here! What the heck was THAT about!?!"

The bikers, unaware that Jason had just read one of their aura's, looked confused for a second.

That's when the screaming started.

Behind the bikers, the trailer's front door flew open for the second time. Madam Eve bolted for the yard, with Braxis right behind her. Braxis was sporting a large bruise on his forehead.

"I can't believe she HIT me with the damned CAN!" Braxis yelled. "GET her!"

"HELLLLLLPPPPP!!!!" cried a female's voice.

The bikers swarmed. The men in front of Jason all rushed him at once. Jason, already on edge from the vision, spun to one side and tripped one of the bikers. In the split second that followed, he saw Madam Eve running towards him. The old man from the vision as standing on the porch. Six men in leather jackets were doing a very good job of chasing the woman down. One was reaching for her even as the other bikers were going for Jason.

Jason made a motion so quick that none of the biker's could follow it. Supernaturally quick reflexes turned Jason's hands into a blur... and then, in less than the blink of an eye... he had his weapons drawn and ready to fire. Two 5-shot .454 Casull revolvers swiveled across Jason's field of view. He fired two shots that sounded more like explosions than gunfire. Across the yard, the biker that was reaching for Eve screamed a very unmanly scream as he realized his right hand was hanging from his wrist by a thin strip of bloody flesh... blown almost completely off. At the same time, one of the bikers rushing Jason hit the ground... a GREAT BIG bloody hole having suddenly appeared where his left knee used to be.

The third and fourth shots came immediately after. One slug caught a short, broad-chested biker in the left shoulder, spinning him around and throwing him against his own motorcycle. Both man and bike hit the ground. Another man... this one near Eve... collapsed as a large bullet shattered his pelvis.

At this point, Jason had expected the bikers to either pull guns of their own or to back off. They did neither. They just kept coming as if severe high-caliber bullet-wounds were paper-cuts. But Jason backed toward the Corvette. Two more shots cleared a path for the fleeing psychic to get around her pursuers. Another biker... the big one he'd first spoke to... to grab him.

Jason put the barrel of one gun to the man's forehead...

"The man on the porch is the leader!"

...and the pointed the other weapon at the old man watching from the porch.

All the biker's froze.

"Now," said Jason in his best Clint Eastwood voice. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking... 'how many rounds do those guns have in 'em, anyway?' 'How many more of us can he shoot?' Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement, I've kinda lost track myself. But being as this is a .454 Casull, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your heads clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya, punks?"

"Shoot him, Jason."

"Shut up."

Moving very fast for an older woman, Eve arrived at Jason's side. But when she looked up at him, she gasped and started to back away.

"...You! My God...Jason Brooks..."

"Look, lady... these guys kill psychics for fun, and YOU'RE NEXT if we don't get outta here. Now come on..."

Jason backed away from the biker. He shoved one pistol into his shoulder-holster, but kept the other pointed at Braxis. With his free hand he opened the passenger door. Eve tried to run, but Jason grabbed her-

"GET IN THE DAMN CAR, LADY!"

-and shoved her violently into the car.

He backed around to the driver's side.

"You don't know what you're doing!" said Braxis. "You don't know what WE'RE doing! She's the last one!"

"I don't even wanna know what that means," said Jason. "You just stay where you are. Nobody move."

"We WILL come after you," said Braxis. "We WILL find you... and her!"

"Next time I'm shooting to kill," said Jason. "I got a lot of bullets... and I don't miss."

Jason slid into the Corvette and took off. Behind him the gang scrambled for their bikes. Jason noticed Braxis bending down to touch the men that had been shot. He was just rounding a curve when one of the men... the one with the shattered pelvis... got up and jogged for his motorcycle as if nothing had happened.

"Okay, what the HELL is going on!?" said Jason.

Eve sat quietly in the passenger seat... cowering in fear. Every few seconds she would glance nervously at Jason.

"You ARE Madam Eve, right?" said Jason.

"Y-Yes."

"You turned me in to the cops?"

"I'm s-sorry! Please don't hurt me!"

"WHAT?! Hey, I just saved your sausage back there, lady! ME! The guy YOU ratted on to the cops! Now YOU owe me some explanations... so start 'spaining!"

"I had a vision... you... just now... you were shooting-"

"Ohhh... so you saw a black man with a gun and just AUTOMATICALLY ASSUMED that I was the bad guy, eh?"

"...well..."

"It's the year 2000, lady... we ain't all carjackers and crack-heads."

"I- didn't mean-"

"Jason, I think those men are following us." said Donovan.

"HEY!" Eve turned around and looked in the back seat. "There's a GHOST in here! Get me out of here, I don't do ghosts!"

"This ghost isn't particularly interested in doing YOU, either," said Donovan.

"Oooo," said Jason. "You just got dissed by a dead man- Hey, wait... you can SEE him!?"

"Duhh... I'm a psychic," said Eve. "Why do you have a ghost in your back seat?"

"Perhaps neither of you heard me the first time," said a slightly annoyed ghost. "But we are being followed."

Jason checked the rear-view mirror. Several bikers were coming up fast behind them.

"Like hell we are..." Jason rolled down the window and pulled one of the spare pistols from his coat. Holding the steering wheel with one hand, He quickly twisted around and fired at the pursuers.

The emptied the huge pistol... putting five shots into the first five bikers. The resulting multiple-bike pileup cleared the road behind him, and by the time Jason went over the next hill, there was no sign of them.

"es, mommy will be home on time this evening. I promise." Marilyn spoke in hushed tones, with her hand cupped over the phone's receiver. "I know... I know I promised last time, but this time... okay, I'll make it up to you... I'll bring you something special, okay? You want some ice cream? Ohhh... Ice Cream AND videos, eh? What do you want... Little Mermaid again? Lion King? Both? Okay... okay I'll be home early and it'll just be me and you... no babysitter. I promise. Bye. Love you, too..."

Marily hung up the phone. Royce was standing next to her desk, looking down at her with a cartoon-character grin on his face.

"If you say one word to me, Royce, I swear to God-"

"I ain't sayin' nothing. Not one word."

"Let's see how YOU balance police-work and a demanding five year old girl. You're gonna have kids one day, too, ya know."

"I doubt that VERY seriously," said Royce. He sat down on the edge of his desk, right next to Marilyn's. They stared at the massive amount of paperwork they both shared. Incident reports. Damage reports. Witness Statements. And somewhere near the top of the stack were notices of formal reprimand for both James Royce AND Marilyn Dobbs.

"I mean... how were WE supposed to know the guy was driving a jet engine on steroids?" said Royce. "It wasn't OUR fault."

"Yeah it was," said Marilyn. "We were the officers in charge of the whole fiasco. Anything that happens is on our heads. And we DID chase the guy across the city... endangering civilians... when we coulda just let him run."

"And if we'd have done that we'd STILL be in trouble for letting him get away!"

"Yup. Great line of work, isn't it?"

Marilyn shoved a stack of papers aside and located her mouse and keyboard.

"Whatcha doing?" said Royce.

"Working. We DO still work here, don't we?"

"Barely."

"Yeah. Barely. I'm just checking these files we got on Brooks... see if there's anything we... uhhh..."

"What?"

"System must be down... I can't find anything."

"Damned things," said Royce. "They go down more often than a prostitute on-"

"Remember the sensitivity training, Royce... you finish that sentence and I'm legally empowered to knock you through that wall."

"Ooo, you promise?"

"Ha, hah," said Dobbs. "It's close to quitting time; I'm getting out of here."

"DOBBS!" someone yelled. It was a uniformed cop. He was escorting someone over to Dobb's desk... a handsome gray-haired man wearing a motorcycle jacket. "This guy says he wants to talk to a detective."

"What? Now!?! Do you know what time it is? I've got to-"

"Its about a man by the name of Jason Brooks," said Braxis.

"Have a seat." Marilyn turned off the computer and leaned back in her chair.

Braxis extended his hand, but before Marilyn could shake it, Royce stepped between them.

"This guy's jacket look familiar to you, Dobbs?" said Royce.

"As a matter of fact it does. You wouldn't happen to ride a motorcycle would you Mr..."

"Braxis. DOCTOR Braxis. And yes, I do."

"You and a dozen buddies having a bit of fun on Highway 156 earlier today?"

"We just arrived in town... I believe that's the road we were traveling, yes. In fact, some maniac nearly ran us off the road... but that's not what I'm here to talk about."

"Brooks," said Marilyn "You know something about Jason Brooks?"

"Yes I do," said Braxis. "I don't know where he is... but I know where he WAS about an hour ago."

"And where was that?"

"A local psychic. Madam Eve... We were at her trailer just outside of the city limits when he drove up and just started shooting."

"Madam Eve?" said Royce. "Now THERE'S a familiar name."

"He kidnapped her... held her at gunpoint and made her get into his car."

"What kinda car?" said Dobbs.

"A Corvette. Black with tinted windows," said Braxis. Dobbs and Royce glanced at each other briefly.

"And you and your guys were just kinda standing around watching this happen, right Dr. Braxis?" said Royce.

"He had guns. BIG ones. Just because we ride motorcycles doesn't mean we're a group of armed ruffians..."

"Uh-huh."

"We tried to follow him, but he shot at us. I came here to file a report... and to see if you might know where he's taken Eve."

"Madam Eve... she a friend of yours?"

"Friend of the family," said Braxis. "We're very worried about her. If you have any idea where this... this terrorist may have taken her-"

"Then what?" said Royce. "Your big bad biker gang is gonna hunt him down and put a hurtin' on him? Oh, I forgot... you're unarmed pacifists whore scared of guns."

"I'd just like to know where she is... if you have any idea..."

"If he's got any sense he's outta town by now," said Dobbs. "We'll check it out-"

"I'LL check it out," said Royce. "You gotta date tonight, remember?"

"Thanks, Royce. Take this guy's statement, I'm getting outta here. See you in the morning."

Dobbs grabbed her coat and pocketbook, then joined the crowd of other detectives and clerks as they filed out of the office, leaving Royce and Braxis almost completely alone. A few other people wandered around the other side of the room taking care of last-minute business. None of them were within earshot of Royce when he started speaking.

"How come you didn't just call 911 when the shooting started?"

"I wanted to talk to someone knowledgeable... someone who might know where they've gone. If we work together we might be able to find them before-"

"I don't think so," said Royce. He grabbed his notepad and scribbled a few lines. "I'm sure you've seen enough TV shows to know the drill... find yourself a hotel, don't leave town, blah, blah, blah."

"You don't seem very enthusiastic about finding them," said Braxis. Royce peered over the top of the notepad at Braxis.

"Oh, I'm VERY interested in finding Brooks. More than you know. But, unlike you, I know what I'm dealing with."

"Perhaps I'll come back tomorrow." Braxis stood and extended his hand. "Nice meeting you."

Royce shook the doctor's hand. Braxis's smile widened... then faltered. He looked down at their clasped hands as if he had expected something to happen.

"So NOW ya had to go and let the cat outta the bag, didn't ya doc?" said Royce.

"I-... how?" he stammered.

"Won't work on me. Human flesh only..."

Braxis yanked his hand away and backed up a step.

"What are you...?"

"I'm what you might call a 'reasonable approximation.'"

"...My God..."

"Your 'god' isn't the only kid on the block. Oh, yeah... I know all about you and your little scavenger hunt. I can smell his stench all over you. But you brought your fun and games to the wrong town, doc... the wrong town at the wrong time. There's some big things gonna happen here, and you'll just be in the way. But rather than make a big deal out of this, I'm just gonna let ya slide on out of here. After all, when ya boil it all down we're all on the same side."

Braxis shook his head.

"I'm not like you... no... I'm not a monster."

"There's all kinds of monsters, doc. There's the kind like me... and then there's the kind like you. We serve different generals, but its the same war... on the same side of the battlefield."

"I serve no one! I'm doing this to HELP people! To help EVERYONE!"

"That's what YOU think," said Royce. "Your being in this town is gonna cause a lot of trouble. The kinda trouble you ain't equipped to handle. So you just go ahead and look for your psychic...quietly... but this time tomorrow I expect you to be outta here whether you've got her or not. This time tomorrow, doc... after that, I ain't responsible for what happens to ya."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Yes."

"You don't frighten me," said Braxis with a frown. "You are a plague on humanity... YOUR day is coming!"

"Our day is already hear, doc. Don't you ever watch the news? It's already here and we're having a ball! So much fun that we d ont' even CARE about little insects like YOU running around trying to save the world. So run along and do whatever you gotta go... time's wasting."

Braxis turned to leave.

"Oh, and doc? In case we run into each other again some day... if you ever try to work your mojo on me again I'll rip your heart out through your nostrils. Ya got that?"

Braxis kept walking as if Royce hadn't even spoken.

"ny luck, doctor?"

"No," replied Braxis. He had just left the police precinct and joined the others in a parking lot across the street. The lot was empty, but the streets were beginning to fill up with evening commuters. "The police were no help at all."

"Now what?" said one of the bikers.

"Now we do it the hard way. I'd hoped to settle this without having to harm anyone else... but we have no choice now. There..."

Braxis pointed down the street, where there was gas station wedged between a strip-mall and the intersection. The station had a large metal dumpster, and an elderly homeless man was rummaging through it quite vigorously.

"No one will miss him. Come."

Braxis mounted his Harley and took off. The others followed behind him. There were still 13 of them... the same number as before. They descended on the gas station and surrounded the dumpster.

"The street's busy," said one of the men. "Someone will see us."

"At this point it doesn't matter," Braxis replied. He got off of his motorcycle and walked up to the homeless man, who was staring fearfully at them.

"You lemme alone!" the man grumbled. Two of the bikers grabbed him, yanked him out of the dumpster and stood him up in front of Braxis. "Hey! Heeeey! I wasn't botherin' you!"

"How would you like to help make the world a better place?" said Braxis.

"eh? What?"

"You ARE human, aren't you? Of course you are..."

Braxis reached for the man's face-

"HEY! HELLLL-"

Braxis brushed his fingers across the bum's mouth. The man's lips shriveled and vanished... leaving a blank space between his nose and his chin. It was as if the man never had a mouth at all. The man tried to scream...

"MMMM!!! MMMMM!!!!!!"

He jerked and yanked violently, trying to free himself of the bikers' grasp.

"He's scared," said Braxis. "We don't want his heart to give out before we're done. Maybe this will help."

Braxis placed his hand on top of the man's head... the bum went limp instantly.

"Bring him. We'll do this inside. And someone bring my bag."

Braxis walked into the gas station. The attendant eyed him warily, and when the others arrived carrying the unconscious bum, the attendant reached for the phone. One of the bikers got to him first.

"That would be a very bad idea," said Braxis.

The biker snatched the attendant over the counter and held him by the throat. Before the attendant could even scream, Braxis calmly reached out and touched his forehead. The doctor's fingers didn't stop at the man's skin... they penetrated his skull as if the attendant's flesh was made of soft clay. One finger... then two... then four fingers of the doctor's right hand sank deep in the man's skull. The attendant's eyes widened in shock as he felt the fingers wiggling around in his brain... searching... manipulating... They went deeper, and soon Braxis's entire fist was gone from view...

"The brain is such a fascinating organ," said Braxis. "So complex... yet so pliable. The slightest changes in structure can yield utterly amazing results ... rage... lust... loyalty... even amnesia."

Braxis yanked his hand out of the man's skull. There was no blood on his fingers, and not a single mark on the unconscious attendant's forehead.

"He won't remember a thing," said Braxis. "You... take the bum in the back room. The rest of you stand watch."

A biker brought the leather bag from Braxis's motorcycle. Braxis took it into the back room, where someone else was laying the bum out in the middle of the floor.

"Good enough," said Braxis. "Leave us."

"Yes sir." The biker left, and Braxis locked the door behind him...

A thick blanket of silence quickly enveloped the gas station. There was no mistaking it... from the way that the bikers averted their eyes from door to the back room, to the way that the traffic sounds from outside became warped and muffled as they entered building... something both sinister and unnatural was transpiring. After a few minutes, a two voices began to converse. One voice was human. The other was clearly not. No one could hear the words from the back room... but then, no one really wanted to. Everyone waited and looked around nervously until the voices stopped... and the oppressive unnatural finally lifted free of the building.

The door to the back room flew open. Braxis walked out. Behind him was an empty space on the floor where the bum had been placed. There was no blood... no body... no marks on the walls. No sign that the man had ever been in there.

Braxis had a smile on his face.

"Clever girl," he said. "Clever, clever girl!"

"You know where she is?" said one of the men as they left the gas station.

"Of course I do," replied Braxis. "She's hiding in a farmhouse on the outskirts of town. Millford Farms... there we will find the girl, Jason Brooks, and Madam Eve. Let us fetch them and begone."

The men mounted their bikes and rode off, leaving the station and its unconscious attendant behind them. No one bothered to check the building to see if anyone had wandered nearby while they were inside. Someone had. In the alley between the station and the adjacent building, a figure leaned out to watch the bikes depart... then quickly moved back into the shadows. For the instant that the man was visible, the evening sun gleamed off of the polished sword that he held in his hand.

Next Issue:   Let's go to the farm, boys and girls! Can anybody tell me some things you find on a farm? Chickens, pigs, barns, motorcycle gangs, psychics, supernatural warriors, ghosts and big ugly monsters. What fun!

copyright 2005 by Dark Icon Entertainment
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