She stepped lightly from darkness into swirling mist. The cold crept about her, chilled her instantly sending shivers up and down her body. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she staggered forward, her eyes wide and staring as she tried to gain her bearings. She was somewhere else.

Lieutenant Colonel Valentina Vostok hugged herself as she stumbled out into the mist enshrouded street, her head turning this way and that as she peered into the dim trying to make out exactly where she was. The street was damp, slick from the thick swirling fog, the faded glow of sodium arc light doing little to light her way. There were cobbles underfoot, and the buildings rising about her were several floors high- a city then. She listened and heard the sound of car horns in the distance, and the long plaintive moan of a foghorn as well. She heard a siren too and knew that she was in America somewhere. America…

She had simply stepped through a door.

Duty or Destiny the Stranger had said, urging her on. Tricking her no doubt. Cliff Steel had told her about the man known as the Phantom Stranger, one of those Metas that Robot Man had loved to tell tales of those nights when life was good. They would go to a tavern and order food and beer and Steel would reminisce about the ‘old days’. They had let him of course, never once interrupting even when he was telling the same story over again for the fourth or fifth time. They owed him that much at the very least.

Duty or destiny- Valentina Vostok would have thought to choose duty since her return to the Federation, but apparently there was more involved than the right and proper choice. With the Russian Defense Command in shambles, the vaunted Red Square shattered she would have thought that her true path lay in rebuilding, dedication to the State. She was, after all, simply a woman again, an officer in the Russian military after her return, thanks to an old friend in high places. She could have been exiled easily enough, she knew. Perhaps it was her knowledge of the West that had saved her in the end- and the Metas.

The Stranger had said to follow her heart as well, that Rajas would need guidance. That Rajas had loved her…

Perhaps that was the deciding factor.

She was in San Francisco she knew. The fog was a give away, but the distinct sound of the Cable Car’s bell was the final straw- no, nail.

Valentina Vostok stared at her surroundings as she walked, her heels clacking on the slick cobbles, her eyes straining to pierce the mist. The street was deserted it seemed, run-down for the most part though she could see signs of gentrification here and there-

A flash of headlights and a horn’s blare, Valentina Vostok yelped as she jumped back up onto the sidewalk, watching as a sleek black limousine swept past. It was long, a sure sign of American gluttony and decadence, the windows tinted to shield the passengers in the rear. She watched as it passed, veering not so far away, the red glow of brake lights sparkling in the distance. Not knowing why she was here, or where exactly she should be for that matter, she hurried in the wake of the car.

She paused not so far away, just at the edge of shadow as she watched. The driver got out of the car, opening the door for his passengers and shortly a man emerged from the rear. He looked vaguely familiar dressed in a stylish black suit- a tuxedo almost. Her wore a short cape against the chill in the air and a top hat that shadowed most of his face though she could just make out his well-trimmed mustache and goatee. The man waited and an exotic looking woman dressed in a long, deep pink gown stepped out and took his arm. She had flowing raven hair cascading down her back, bubbling over the ermine wrap draped loosely about her smooth ochre shoulders. She wore a dazzling pendant about her throat, a sapphire by the look, sparkling in the glow of a neon sign that flickered over a doorway on one of the more dilapidated buildings.

Valentina Vostok watched as the man and woman approached the doorway, straining to hear as the limo pulled away to park on the far side of the tight, cobbled street. They were laughing, pointing at the glow of neon though from her angle Valentina could not see the joke.

Still she watched as the shadows seemed to part, the mists swirling as a huge man stepped from the doorway. He was almost as big as the Rocket Red armor, with wide shoulders and long, bulging arms straining at the fabric of his own suit. He greeted the couple and stepped aside, ushering them into the building with a sweeping arm. Vostok jogged forward, wondering. Was this why she was here? Was this what the Stranger wanted her to investigate? She did not know…

She saw the big man’s head swivel on his shoulders at her approach. He almost seemed devoid of a neck and he had a wide, sloping brow hanging over a pair of thick, dark sunglasses. Regardless he was staring at her, his head cocking oddly as she stepped up, glancing at the sign over the door. She smiled, instantly seeing why the couple had laughed-

The stylized neon tubing had been meant to spell out ‘Bewitched’, but the ‘E’ and ‘W’ had been broken. Leaving a less than desirable word in the wake of the vandalism. Vostok smirked and approached the door, the big man stepping to bar her way-

“Goin’ somewhere, darlin’?”

He had a deep, gravelly voice and Vostok could see that his lower jaw jutted out almost as far as his thick, bushy brow. It almost looked as though he bore tusks.

“This is a nightclub?” she asked and the man grinned-

“If ya gotta ask, then ya don’t know.” He cocked his head to the other side, scrutinizing her. “Ya got the look, babe, but I don’t see nothin’. Who are ya? Ya got reservations mebbe?”

“No,” Vostok said. She could hear music seeping through the thick, oaken door, the sounds of laughter and conversation. “Do I need reservations?”

“Or an invite,” the burly man said pulling a bit of cigar from his jacket pocket. It was oddly lit, smoldering. “Less’n yer somebody, otherwise ya don’t get in.”

Valentina Vostok sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m no one really, not anymore. I was a hero once, but now-“

“Really?” the big man said as he tipped his glasses down his stubby, piggish nose, looking her up and down once again. “Who were ya?”

Vostok shrugged again. “Once upon a time I was Negative Woman, of the Doom-“

Valentina Vostok spun about at the booming voice, seeing the big man tense in the edge of her sight. She saw the rail thin form walking casually closer, stepping from the mist. The dark, scarred skin was bathed in a rippling black flame, the dented golden helmet glowing, lighting the way. A slim, curvy form of black energy rippled overhead, keeping pace, floating closer.

His hands went up, a black, fractured Ankh appearing at the tips of long, gangly fingers. Vostok heard the big man gasp, sucking air as he clutched at his chest, staggering. The man called Fate made his hands fists and the club’s doorman shrieked, dropping to his knees the Ankh enveloping him. Vostok watched as the big man writhed in apparent agony.

Doctor Fate stepped forward to the doorway, his face hidden behind the dents and charred scars of the tarnished golden mask. The blackened glowing woman floated near, circling as his head tilted, canting towards Vostok in apparent confusion.

Vostok opened her mouth to answer but Fate had already moved on. He raised his hands, gesturing casually and the big man rose into the air-

Valentina Vostok screamed as the world seemed to explode…

	The World's Greatest Superheroes..... Twist of Fate Chapter Two: The Secret Society...
JLA #26- March, Year 3	by Curt Fernlund

 

Active Roster

Dr. Fate Hector Hall	Giganta	Monocle Jonathan Chevell		The Negitive Woman Valentina Vosto
The Shade	Solomon Grundy	The Wizard William Zard

William Zard swirled the wine about the goblet, gave it a sniff and smiled. He nodded at the creature with two heads and tentacles, setting his glass to the table-

“Acceptable, Dmzzashee,” he purred, turning his smile to the beauteous woman seated across from him. She smiled in return. “You may pour.” The demon grumbled something guttural, but did as he was told, his face cracking in something like a twisted smile.

The Wizard watched with no little satisfaction as the demon did his bidding. It had really not been so long ago that he had been sequestered to the rocking table situated near the kitchen. Now he sat proudly, smugly at one of the better tables centered near the stage in full view of the entire clientele. One of the best in the house, and a waiter trained for his discretion as opposed to the overweight and filthy stage magician that seemed to cater to the back of the club. Life was indeed good again, and Zard meant for it to stay that way.

It had been a windfall of sorts, simplicity itself to manipulate that idiot Faust into gaining one of the Luck Stones of Bel and actually sparking the dormant magicks within. The sorcerer should have known better, been up on his research. It was his own fault really, allowing himself to be sucked into the stone. Zard chuckled, tapping his cane to the floor and watching the tiny form within the red stone bounce about.

The woman seated across the table from him leaned closer, grinning wickedly as she stared at the tiny, helpless Felix Faust trapped within the Luck Stone. She giggled, her breasts threatening to explode from the front of her tight, satin gown-

“You should not tease him so, poor little thing,” she said, her long sapphire-painted nail tapping the side of the jewel causing Faust to shriek in agony. “If he ever gets out, he will kill you.”

“He would try,” Zard chuckled, pulling his cane out of the beautiful Asian’s reach and tucking it behind his chair. “I’ve learned from past mistakes, dear Camille, and have been storing up excess energies against such a contingency as unlikely as it is. Sweet Felix would find me a most capable foe should he ever escape- not that that will ever happen. I have planned far too well to be stopped by random chance. Not the League, or the Society, or even an enraged Felix Faust will stop me this time.”

“I am glad, William,” the woman, Camille purred sipping at her wine. She was eyeing him coyly, a smoldering mix of lust and amusement. She did like power.

“I admit, I had my doubts when you first contacted me, begging me to rejoin your Secret Society of Super-Villains. I was only recently returned to power you know- to life- and it was your machinations that ruined me once before.

The Wizard waved her away. “Simple mismanagement of resources on my part, my dear. I have humbly apologized time and again-“ Camille laughed-

“I know. Still, it is nice to hear. I-“

“Wizard!”

Zard sighed, recognizing the voice even before he turned his head. He smiled plastically at the tall man approaching the table, his hair just a bit askew, his dark suit only slightly out of fashion, the pale green of his skin just peeking through the weak Glamour.

“Wotan…”

The current proprietor and maitre de of Club Bewitched hovered at the edge of the table, beaming with pride as he glanced first at Zard, then at the woman across the table. He raised u pon his toes, settling into a well-practiced stance as he returned his attention- regrettably no doubt- to the Wizard.

“So glad you’ve chosen to join us again tonight, William. It has been awhile.”

“I’ve been busy, Wotan,” Zard said with a sneer. “Business you understand?”

Wotan chuckled, nodding, “Of course, of course. We hear rumors mind, but it does sound as though ‘business’ is booming.”

Zard shrugged. “Just a matter of timing, dear sir. I saw potential, an opening for a resource and moved to fill the void. I’m quite certain others saw the chance as well- I just got there first.”

“And cornered the market,” Wotan laughed, “good show!” The old warlock shrugged, his shoulders rippling oddly as he leaned in closer. The Wizard wrinkled his nose in disgust. The man smelled of sulfur-

“I was going to ask-“

“Sorry, old boy,” the Wizard said with a grin. “Ranks are full at the moment, but please, e-mail us a resume.”

Wotan’s smile faded as he straightened, his face blank as he blinked.

“Now, about today’s special,” the Wizard said pointing to something on the menu-

Everyone screamed and lurched in their seats as the heavy oaken doors shattered, blowing inwards. A huge, mangled body flew through the opening, crashing into the first line of tables and sending club patrons scrambling to get out of the way. More screams as the cumbersome body tumbled, finally sprawling to a heap of charred flesh on the polished hardwood floor.

“Great Cthulu…” Wotan whispered as a black flame danced in the doorway. All eyes turned to see the tall, gangly form of a skeletal man striding into the main room of the club. Though the form was different, there were none in the crowded club that did not know the image, the visage of Doctor Fate! The flickering black silhouette of a woman that hovered near seemed almost familiar to a select few, and the skinny blond woman that Fate had in tow was as a stranger to all.

“D-Doctor Fate…” Wotan said and started towards the trio, the woman Camille laughing at the way his voice cracked. She knew of Fate of course, though she was not impressed. Few men had that effect on her. She turned back towards Zard, but found the Wizard missing-

“Wizard?”

She felt something nudging at her ankle. Bending down she glanced under the table and saw her leader there, cringing at her feet, cowering. She smiled-

“Bad boy, Billy,” she giggled, tapping him in the face with the pointed toe of her sapphire-colored pump. “Now’s hardly the time for play I think.” She laughed as the Wizard glared up at her with a scowl.

“Stupid cow,” he snarled, glancing back over his shoulder and lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “That’s Fate!”

“And?”

“Don’t be dense woman!” he hissed, turning about to get completely beneath the red checkered tablecloth. “Call the others!” he shouted, grabbing at his cane and cradling it close, hugging it to his breast. Camille shrugged, reaching for her purse. She glanced up to the sound of Wotan’s girlish shriek, his body engulfed in black flames suddenly. She watched as the demonic warlock writhed, his body shriveling in the cold heat, his skin melting away to reveal a yellowish skeleton beneath. Fate snapped his fingers with a flourish and that crumbled to dust as he strolled past.

Maybe the Wizard was right. Perhaps they might need some help…

Nabu sniffed, the reek of charred sulfur swirling about him. He could not abide the ancient sorceries, they were so vulgar. Granted there had been a time long ago when he needed the venom of scorpions and the skin of chameleon, back when he had been banished to a mortal husk. Things of course had been so much simpler then. Steer the pharaoh in the proper direction, keep the warrior under control, weave his tiny square of the grand tapestry-

Rip out the snags.

How long had it taken him to see the overall scheme of the tapestry? How many wasted millennia before he spotted the true snags in the skein, before he saw the glorious picture that they made amidst the lesser weave? The chaos tearing the vast imagery asunder. Had he wept? He did not recall, now, but it had been beautiful he knew. It had been catharsis when his soul had opened to the greater scheme. It was not about Chaos and Order at all. That war was like a tiny pattern; Hope and Despair, Life and Death…

It was all a joke, a sham!

The will of Chaos would win out again he knew. In the end as it was in the beginning. That spark of madness that would kick-start the endless cycle once again, the never-ending story.

Hand of God…

Great Turtle…

Dragon at the Center of the Universe, it was all the same in the end.

Far better to serve in a Heaven of his own devise, than to reign in a Hell of someone else. The world would end he knew, eventually. It was the how that mattered, and the whimper that was his final destiny- his Fate would not come to pass. Not if he could help it. For it was Chaos that controlled Destiny, mere happenstance. And now Fate would control Chaos…

He strolled forward casually, his eyes hidden behind the ancient helm. They scattered before him, in his wake, the little people. Grand and glorious they thought themselves, so far above the merest mortal. Delusions of grandeur, there were so few that knew the true meaning of real power. He would show a few this day…

Valentina Vostok’s eyes grew wider and wider as she watched the half-naked man called Fate stroll through the pandemonium of the nightclub. The people, the patrons were running scared before him; screaming and shouting, pushing to escape, begging for their lives if he turned his gaze upon them-

There was a woman with pasty gray skin screeching as Fate pulled a shadowy reflection from her vacant eyes…

A blonde woman dressed in business attire writhing about on the floor, gasping for air. She had seemed out of place in the room filled with tentacled men and red eyed women with long tails whipping. Still, Fate had ripped out her throat and crushed a golden medallion she had worn about her neck and had started to glow…

A burning figure; a ghostly outline little more than a sheet howled and swirled, the Black Ankh enveloping him- it in flames…

“Doctor Fate!”

A man was running forward from one of the shadowy corners. He was a bit plump, dressed in a too tight white tuxedo with tails, his white shoes clacking across the blood-slicked hardwood floor. His handsome face was awash in sweat, glistening in the candlelight. Vostok could smell his fear from across the room.

“Fate!” he cried again, waving his arms and finally the dark man swiveled about, his gaze sweeping over the other. His visage remained hidden, but Vostok was certain that the man called Fate had smiled.

The man in white seemed to smile, almost, his lips quivering as he stared up at the taller, gaunt form of Fate. His eyes were wide-

“Doctor, I-“

“He- Times were hard, you understand? I needed capital, a partner. Wotan is- was the front man. I-“

Oh don’t worry, Fate said waving his hand. Wotan will doubtless return. You know how he is. You on the other hand…

The man called Tannarak dropped to his knees, raising his hands in pleading prayer. Vostok saw tears mingling with the sweat on his slick skin.

“Oh please don’t kill me! Please!”

Vostok started forward, unsure what to do a scream of her own on her lips. She had no weapon, no Meta, but somehow she had to stop this madness. She felt a weight on her shoulder however, a hand falling, stopping her in her tracks. She started to turn, but saw the young woman that had been Mysta of Red Square streak forward, her once beautiful light now crackling dark energy, a cancerous corruption of what she had been.

Mysta swirled; her form stretching as it encircled the panicky form of Tannarak, enveloping him in her black energies. Vostok saw Tannarak’s struggles as he disappeared, his flailing arms slowly growing weaker. Finally in a surge of energy, a flare of light his body toppled to the floor, the darkness oozing off of his corpse. Mist drifted from his still, lifeless form, ice sheening his skin as vapors of frost trailed from his quivering lips-

“Eew…”

Vostok finally turned, glancing back at the hand on her shoulder first, the face beyond. It was a woman, beautiful with red flowing hair cascading about her breasts and down her back. She was dressed in a long coat against the misty chill outside, but was quickly slipping out of the sleeves to reveal what appeared to be little more than skins and pelts draped about her statuesque, muscular form. The woman smiled-

“Not a pretty sight sister. Best you get the hell outta Dodge.”

The other woman shoved Vostok back towards the door where she saw more people coming into the club. A huge man with pasty, chalk-white skin, two more men dressed in suits, all looking vaguely familiar.

“Grundy…” Vostok whispered and suddenly she knew-

Or at least thought she did…

Camille sauntered forward, stepping cautiously through the death and debris that littered the slick hardwood floors of Bewitched. She wrinkled her nose as blood seeped up into the expensive leather of her shoes, ruining the nap. She sighed, money down the drain but there was nothing for it, except maybe a trip to New York and a visit to Dior’s, and of course a bit of revenge.

With the slightest concentration her long, satiny gown shimmered and morphed, falling away and reshaping into the armor of her station. Her shoes vanished becoming boots, her dress fading away into the jumper of shocking pinks and lavenders, the mask forming on her face. The sapphire jewel about her throat reappeared in the tiara pulling her hair back and framing her face, crackling with a magical surge of energy that brought her close to orgasm. God she loved the power…

She strolled forward, planting her feet finally and jutting her hip, resting a hand seductively on the curve as she pointed at Fate. She saw the others at the door getting into position and knew too that Zard would make an appearance once he was certain that he would not be harmed. He was a pitiful excuse for a man, but he did pay well, and for the nonce that was all that mattered. She cleared her throat and grinned, letting the power swell.

She did not know how or why the power had come back to her, but neither did she care. The last she had heard was that the Ferris woman was the chosen one again. Maybe she had died, or perhaps she had relinquished the power when Jordan had gone insane. It did not matter really. All that did matter was that the Zamorans had chosen her again- Remoni-Notra of Pandini- Camille to be their queen, Star Sapphire. She had the power again, the prestige, and she would not let it slip from her grasp a second time-

“Is there a doctor in the house?”

Star Sapphire smiled wickedly as the creature that was Fate turned her direction. She had met Fate once, years ago, but aside from the dented, scarred helmet this man looked nothing like the shiningly clean magician she had faced before. This was a filthy, disgusting aberration, reeking of evil and discord.

Fate seemed to smile as he looked her over, the slits of his helmet oozing a dark light as his gaze fell on her cleavage. She smirked, looking on as his arousal became evident.

Camille hesitated, wondering what he meant.

Fate raised his hands, black flames engulfing them even as Camille raised her own before her. A pink shield of solid energy appeared as the jewel in her tiara flared to life. Luckily it was not necessary as Fate had not seen the shadow of the gigantic fist that smashed him into the floor.

Lieutenant Colonel Valentina Vostok stared wide-eyed as the red-haired woman grew before her eyes. She thought that she would have crashed through the very ceiling, but there was something about the club that distorted dimensions. It seemed vast within the walls of Bewitched, the roof lost in smoky shadows overhead-

That was the woman’s name- her Meta name at least. Who she really was and how she came to be, Vostok could not recall. There were so many. She was a villain though, a nemesis of Wonder Woman she recalled from a simpler time. What was she doing here though?

The building seemed to shake to the rafters as the woman brought her gargantuan fist down atop the unsuspecting Fate. Vostok winced as the woman ground her fist into the floor, kneeling in the vast room. Her movements were quick and fluid, almost surreal as though she were apart of everything else- detached and separate. It was strange watching as her gargantuan body shifted back, her face slowly twisting as she stared at the bloody smear that had been Fate.

“He’s not done yet.”

Vostok glanced away to look at the gaunt man in the archaic black suit. He wore clothes from the 1800’s; tails and a top hat, carrying a cane. Dark glasses hid his eyes as he stared queerly at Vostok, cocking his head-

“You were the Negative Woman weren’t you?”

Vostok’s lips parted, flapping. How did he know?

The man in black returned his attention to the fight abruptly as his comrade and Grundy surged forward. Solomon Grundy…

Valentina Vostok shook her head. She had left this all behind.

She saw that Fate was reforming, like a blob of putty his pulped and smashed body was springing back to form. Grundy was lumbering forward even as Giganta raised her fist again. The other man in the suit hesitated and Vostok saw a glow coming from the monocle he wore.

Energy flashed and a beam of a laser arched out, smiting the gurgling form of Fate. Too, pink energy lashed into the reforming mass, adding to the energy and making it bubble and writhe.

The Monocle…

Solomon Grundy…

Star Sapphire and Giganta…

Black energy flashed as Mysta came to the aid of her new master. Vostok heard the Star Sapphire scream as a bolt of crackling fire lashed out and danced about her. The energy woman then flew on to Giganta, her streaking form wrapping about the giantess. Vostok saw the huge woman wince, her skin smoldering at Mysta’s touch. What had Fate done to her?

“Darkness begets darkness…” the man at her side said as he raised his cane and pointed it at Mysta. Darkness swirled forth, thick and textured, like molasses, flowing across the room like a flood tide. Giganta screamed as the black touched her bare feet, and the Monocle quickly leaped up and onto the bar to avoid its painful touch. Grundy just seemed confused.

Vostok saw Mysta’s stretched body quiver as the darkness crept through her own black, shadowy form. There was a shriek of agony, and the black light seemed to sparkle for a moment as Mysta froze. Giganta shrugged and the thinly stretched body of Mysta shattered like ice, falling to the floor in a pile of cracking, flashing shards. Still, the huge woman sagged, her gigantic breasts heaving as great clouds of mist escaped her full red lips swirling up and away.

Vostok turned back to the form of Fate, still half-formed and tall, gangly and jutting. The helm swiveled about to face Grundy, the behemoth drawing back a pasty white fist-

Grundy grunted, his massive fist slamming into Fate’s helmet. Vostok heard a snapping sound, and Fate’s head went askew, though he did not seem bothered in the least.

Fate’s eyes glowed darkly and the creature that was Solomon Grundy screamed. His body burst into flame, a black, crackling inferno engulfing him as he staggered back, batting at the fire to little effect. A beam of red energy flashed and struck Fate, but he ignored it, turning on the Monocle.

Fate waved his hand and the older man collapsed as though his bones had simply dissolved. Vostok heard his whimpering as the man beside her sighed, stepping forward.

He raised his cane and Valentina Vostok saw waves of darkness spew forth. Fate looked up, seemingly surprised at the new attack, just as Giganta slammed her fist down again and the Star Sapphire unleashed another assault. Swirling clouds of black struggled against the flashing pink energies of the star sapphire jewel, Fate writhing in their midst. He was in pain she could see, weakening it looked.

A man stood up in the background- the man she had seen outside. He too held a cane, a black stick with a glowing red jewel atop. He was speaking, but the few words that Vostok heard were odd and vanished from her memory as she heard them. Magic she supposed.

Fate screamed as he was engulfed in an odd swirling mist. The thick darkness held him fast as Giganta pounded him again, and again. Bolts of pink energy flew wild into the mix.

Black flame erupted, a shattered Ankh appearing overhead.

Star Sapphire flew back, a wave of fire exploding, the waves smashing her into the far wall.

Giganta screamed as black electricity danced the length of her elongated body. She stood up, shaking, her head lost in the rafters as she finally stumbled back, crashing to the floor. It took a long time for her to fall.

The man in the old black suit winced, sucking air through clenched teeth as the darkness swept back through his cane and up his arm. He shrieked, his arm jerking as his fingers opened causing him to drop his cane.

Fate stood, staring at the other man with the cane, his dark, gangly body charred and burnt, his right arm hanging oddly at his side-

The man licked his lips, stepping back but holding his glowing cane before him.

Fate raised his arm, his fingers curling claw-like as the Ankh appeared again, pulsing with dark energies. He pointed at the man he had called Zard-

“I don’t think so,” the man with the cane said. His voice cracked, and Vostok could hear the fear but still he raised the cane, the jewel glowing, pulsing. It almost looked as though there was a little man trapped within the crystal.

There was a flash of light, a sound like thunder that cut off abruptly in mid-rumble. Fate cursed, something old and profane and Vostok winced as she felt the heat wash over her, her skin tingling with excitement. When her eyes cleared, the man with the cane was gone…

As well as Giganta, and the Star Sapphire…

Grundy and Monocle…

Vostok turned and saw the man with the cane and the archaic black suit still at her side. He was frowning, his attention split between Fate and her. The doctor was still cursing, rubbing at the slits in the helmet that covered his eyes. The man shook his head-

“I’m sorry child,” he said raising his cane. “I wish there was another way-“

Before she could move he reached out, the tip of his walking stick touching her on the forehead. She gasped as images swirled in her head and she staggered back. She felt a wall slam into her back as she gasped for breath, a strange coldness creeping up her legs, her body.

Strange but familiar, almost forgotten.

“No…” she whispered, but it was too late.

The man sneered, glancing at Fate once again as the shadows seemed to swell and fold about him. He started to fade, vanishing into the darkness-

“Please, not again…”

Valentina Vostok pleaded as the dark shadows swirled about the man. He said something, but she could not hear. Then he simply vanished, the shadows dispersing. Vostok fell to the floor, her body convulsing.

She looked up and saw Fate standing over her…

He stared down at her, unmoved as she vomited blood, her bowels emptying as her body adjusted, adapted…

Corrupted…

Faded away…