.   _             Blackbird & Countinghouse Presents:            _
   ( )                 CONCLAVE OF SUPER-VILLAINS               ( )
  =-+-=        An Academy of Super-Heroes Universe Comic       =-+-=
    I                copyright 1999 by Matt Rossi III            I
                          #13 - TIDAL WAVES

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

     [Cover - an homage to Avengers Vol. 3 Issue 22.  Triton, in the 
      Strafe armor, is standing triumphant with the Astro Spear held 
      high above his head.  Lying in a ring around his feet are Khadam's
      President-for-Life Arnold Zugmann, Dan Tracey of STRAFE, an 
      armed and green-tinted Pranir, Solar Max of ASH, Ymir of EUROPA, 
      and several Scytharian androids of various makes.]

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Next Ruling Council of Khadam?

     TRITON         Derek Radner          Gadgeteer & Electricity
     CAPRICE        Erin Vail             Power mutation
     CONFLICTO      Eugene Kwan           Friction/Viscosity Control
     GLYPH          Zephirah Reuben       Magical sigils
     LABYRINTHE     Yvan Viau             Spatial Magic
     MYRIAD         Alpha Rho Twelve      Shapeshifting
     CARYATID       Claudette Viau        Spiritual Magic
     SPIRAL         Anya Kirova           Telekinetic torque
     TIARA          Princess Ursula       Master thief
     BURNOUT III    C.J. Brown            Fire Control
     ZONE           Gerhard Durst         Zone of power
     MR. STRINGS    Tyra Dumont           Mind Control


[June 25th, 2024 - 11:37 AM, Khadam Local Time]

     Ghat is in flames.
     Triton's face is indescernable behind the faceplate, but his voice is
filled with something cold, dark, hard and absolutely thrilling.  His anger
is leashed yet loose, and Khadam is shaking with it.
     I find that beautiful.
     Yvan can't understand why.  I hesitate to say it, but that's due to his
nature; he's always been a follower.  I, however, am a revolutionary, and I
recognize fervor when I see it.  Triton has it in spades.  I find it
intoxicating.  I have no interest in seducing the man; he just lost his
lover, and it would be tacky.  Besides, I find him more compelling as a
colleague.
     "So, how does it go?"
     "Very well."  He looks briefly at the former Astro Spear in his hands,
modified from War Star's weapon and powered by his own deceit (and an
imprisoned Doublecross).  In many ways, it's the symbol of the new Triton,
hard, cold, invulnerable and ruthless.  "Many of the more downtrodden
experimental subjects of the Vivarium are up in arms, and they were easy to
point at the Zugnovians.  Meanwhile, I've made expert use of Doublecross'
holo-projectors and the Shadowmonger's hideout to mobilize their forces as
well."
     "A pincer movement.  How very classical." 
     "Not for long.  Soon, it'll be a trident, when the CSV hits Zugmann's
palace.  Genetic Superman or not, he doesn't stand a chance."  Triton's
bravado wavers briefly.  "I wish my angel could see it.  I plan on re-naming
Ghat...I was thinking of Ouragon, in her honor."
     "I'm sure she'd like it, Derek."  I draw my cowl over my face.  I wish I
knew why I'm not jealous of this dead woman.  God know, my brother thinks
it's my long submerged romantic side that keeps me here, but it isn't.
     It's the smell of power in the air.
     "Thank you, Claudette."  Triton steps to the fore.  The rebuilt and
redesigned Skyhaven uses a great deal of the solid light technology left
behind by the Light Brigade's attack, as in the case of the bridge.  It now
looks open to the air, while in reality it is shielded behind a solid wall of
multi-spectrum light and a powerful force field.  Triton steers the ship, no
longer truly a dirigible, by means of a stylized wheel that would look at
home on a 19th Century Steamship.  "Conflicto, have the Zugnovians figured
out our little game yet?"
     "Nopey-dopey.  Spy-eyes in the palace show 'em squirmin' like worms.
They figger the Shadowmongers are behind it all...Zugmann the younger is
thinking about askin' us for help, actually."  Eugene, whom I have only
recently come to know and do not understand, smiles his typically manic grin.
"This is gonna BLAST!"
     "Indeed."  Triton stands there behind his wheel for a moment, and then
steps towards the door.  "Call me when the fish takes the bait.  I'm going to
see if Durst is flesh yet."  He leaves the bridge.
     Of course, I have my secrets from him as well.  Like the fact that I was
never a hostage at all.
     As if he has a map of my inner thoughts...and if any man alive does, he
might...my brother Yvan unfolds from nowhere and everywhere and addresses me.
     "Claudette, we need to talk."  So he wishes to address me in French?
Ah.  One of his "deeply felt" talks.  I almost moan at the repetition.
     "Very well, Yvan.  Why not do it outside?  I'd like to watch the party."

     "I can't believe this.  I finally get you back..."
     "Yvan, we've gone over this."  Of course, I can hardly tell him that one
of the reasons I want to stay is that I was working with Mr.  Strings and
Rebus from the beginning, now, can I?  "I like the CSV.  I enjoy Triton's new
attitude; it reminds me of myself.  And besides, I would think you'd show a
bit more loyalty; the man did save me when your plan went awry, did he not?"
     Underneath us, a Technomancer Sled is dragged down and the crew
destroyed by things better left to the imagination.  Soon, even Zugmann's
closest supporters will be yowling for our support, distrust or no.  The
cloaking device in Skyhaven, augmented by Doublecross's own devices and
mastery of light, keeps us hidden from the tumult.  When we do appear, it
will be as shocking as a thunderstorm suddenly blowing in from the coast.
     "Claudie, I only went through all this to get you back."
     "And you didn't enjoy any of it, Yvan?"  I look into his eyes, making
him back up a step.  "Come.  Tell someone else that you do it all for me.
You and I, we know why we do what we do...magic has its costs.  And it has
priviledges.  As I know.  You do what you do because you can."  I put a hand
on his shoulder.  "As do I."
     He doesn't say anything else, just watches the fires burning below.
     I wonder how Triton's newest recruit is doing?

               *              *              *              *

[June 18th, 2024 - 3:37 PM Italian Local Time]
	
     She'd made it through Munich without incident, but Rome was another
story.  The Eurasian Union had a much heavier presence there, and the part of
her mind that was still CJ Brown remembered Tony Drake's stay as a guest of
EUROPA.  It was risky to meet there, which is probably why he insisted on it.
     The Villa Borghese was thinly attended, allowing her to make her way
through it with mininmal effort.  The most famous park in Rome was more or
less always the site of some crowd or another, but she wasn't there for them
and only paid enough attention to be sure she wasn't attracting undue
scrutiny.
     She was surprised when she noticed how close he'd gotten.  A nondescript
man in his late fifties was walking in her general direction, his
sun-darkened skin and dark grey cap absolutely unremarkable.  But his mind
was *invisible* to her, and that caught her attention.  She stiffened,
expecting some sort of trap.
     "Relax," the older man winked.  "I thought it would be prudent to make
sure nothing happened to my grey matter."
     "I see."  She didn't waste time denying anything.  "Impressive illusion.
I didn't know the Strafe armor had anything like that."
     "Let's just say I made a few upgrades, and leave it at that."  He sat
down on a nearby park bench.  "Yvan will be back in fifteen minutes, so that
gives us time to talk.  How much of you is the CJ Brown I barely ever met,
and how much of you is Mister Strings?  I always wondered which of the CSV he
had control of, but once Smith vanished and I heard about your rampage in New
York, I had my answer."
     "Indeed."  She sat down next to him.  "Cheeky of you, doing this right
in the heart of EUROPA's territory."
     "If you think this is cheeky, wait a few days."  He said nothing for a
moment, then launched into his spiel.  "Rebus is off on his own games now.
The CSV is firmly in my hands; if you want to use it, you'll need to work
with me."
     "Really."  The deeper voice of CJ Brown projected an entirely unique
type of menace, different than did the quiet semi-whisper of Lana Smith, but
it was there nonetheless.  "I suppose we underestimated you, Derek."
     "That's nothing.  Wait till you hear what we've got in mind...assuming
that you've decided you want in?"  She nodded, and he continued.
     After a while, she began to hum. 
     It didn't seem to bother him.	

               *              *              *              *

[June 25th, 2024 - 12:07 PM Khadam Local Time]

     Triton walked into the Medical Bay and stopped at the base of an
elaborate cylinder he'd spent the better part of two days tinkering with.
Inside it, Gerhardt Durst stood, or at least gave the appearance of it.  Like
all the former members of Doublecross's Light Brigade, Durst (better known as
Zone) was now composed of sentient hard light, a kind of living hologram.
     "I don't think this booth is doing anything."
     "It may not be."  Triton checked the readings.  "To be honest, without
Doublecross's notes...which he may not have kept anyway...I'm flailing in the
dark when it comes to the Matter/Energy conversion.  I have no idea if I
*can* change you back."
     "Great." Zone sat down on the shelf in the cylinder.  "I hate this."
     "Well, once we take over Khadam, we'll have access to Technomancer
technology; the best off-world tech available.  We'll have a better chance to
correct your condition then."  The armored gauntlet touched a wall panel, and
the cylinder slid open.  "In the meantime, you might want to get ready.
We'll be moving as soon as the Pranir and Technomancers realize that Arnold
Zugmann can't save them."
     Zone nodded, and walked out of the room.  Triton watched him leave,
cradling the Trident in his right hand.  He still hadn't come up with a good
name for it; once, that would have been very important to him.  All the
trappings had to be in place, after all.  In fact, despite his grief, he
still felt that way.
     It was just that he wasn't as excited about the game as he used to be.

     At that very moment, while Triton was considering names for the Astro
Spear (he though that either Tristar or the Star Trident were the most
likely) his plans were continuing apace.
     In that metropolis of technology known as The Upper City, a series of
monitors were filled with scenes of violent upheaval.  The large central
screen showed a Scytharian Posse being torn limb from limb by a horde of
mutated once-humans, each more twisted and unnatural than the last.  The
smaller monitors to the left showed the "Zugmann Bank" in flames as a group
of menial laborers, each marked by the symptoms of some unfathomable disease
or a toxic syndrome unique to Khadam, ran amok in the streets.
     It was the same in each.  Ghat was flying apart at the seams.
     "This is intolerable."  A hissing voice issued from the throat of
Savagely-Murders-His-Rivals, a Pranir Snakeowl who had grown accustomed to
rulership.  He was one of the oldest of his kind of Earth; it had been he who
had lead the first Pranir mission to Khadam in the wake of the catastrophes
of 1998, and he was one of the few of his kind who could speak human
languages without the aid of a translator device.  "At this rate, we
ourselves will be endangered soon."
     "Too many changes too fast."  This voice was not that of a Pranir at
all, but rather belonged to a former human.  All that was left of his human
body was his brain, however, and that was encased in a cybernetic shell of
such massive sophistication and brute power that for decades he has been
known merely as Alloy.  "First the recent Ebola outbreaks, then the weather
playing hob with our shipments, now the subjects of the Vivarium run amok
while Shadowmonger agents play the provocateurs.  Things have accelerated
beyond our ability to predict."
     "We always anticipated the Shadowmongers would move against us."
Another Pranir, a younger one who had but recently ascended to the head of
his Trade House, spoke up, the mechanical voice of his translator sounding
disturbingly similar to Alloy's synthesized voice.  "It need not be a
calamity, if we are resolute."
     "Smells-Good-Markets is correct."  The man who walked out into the
center of the room was enormous, easily one of the largest human beings in
the world.  Easily more than seven and a half feet tall and thick with corded
muscle, Arnold Zugmann's only concession to his age was his thick mane of
grey and silver hair.  It made him look distinguished, like an aging
lion...an appearance furthered by the many feline traits that had been
spliced into his genetic makeup.  "We need to respond in an appropriate
manner.  My grandfather always said that violence, like all tools, needs to
be applied with skill and care, but need not be feared."
     "I believe," Alloy spoke up, "he also said 'Heil Hitler' quite often,
and I see no more point to recalling that saying of his than any other."
     "I agree with Arnold."  This was from the oldest man in the room, a
seemingly-ordinary old man of asian descent who seemed shrunken and fragile
compared to the others.  Yet the silence that followed his statement marked
him for who he was; Dr. Huang Sheng, the Bio-Mancer.  A genius with DNA, and
only living human being to have seen the writing on the wall in 1998 in time
to actually *reverse* the Bose transformation, making himself a mundane human
being.  And so he'd weathered the end of his world.  "All we need do is act."
     "I respect you more than any other human, Huang, but you are wrong."
Savage, as the humans on the council called the elderly Pranir, spoke.  "We
cannot act.  We do not have the power to act; our 'allies' in Rome are
occupied with the death of one leader and the installation of another, our
Scytharian Posses are stretched to the breaking point by the chaos in the
Vivarium, and now violence has spread here, to the Upper City.  We have no
more resources to apply to the problem."
     "There is one," Huang answered.  "Arnold and I have suggested it
already.  Why not?  We provide them shelter from their enemies, after all.
There is history to support it."
     "A history wiped away by angry gods," Alloy spat through his speakers.
	"The past is past," Arnold Zugmann, the de-facto President-for-Life of
Khadam, ended the debate.  "We must act, or be swept aside.  I say we ask
them."
     "I say nay."  Alloy stood to his full baroque height, his many gleaming
appendages making him look like some vedic sculpture.
     "Nay," Savage agreed.
     "I vote yes."  Smells-Good-Markets twitched the hairs on his long body.
     "As do I."  Dr. Huang leaned back, his wizened body garbed in dark
robes.  "Three to two. The Technomancer Council has spoken."
     "Nothing good can come from this," Alloy seemed to slump.  It was hard
to tell.

               *              *              *              *

[June 25th, 2024 - 4:44 PM Cairo Local Time]
	
     A caravan cut across the Sahara, slowly making its way through the
ancient oases as caravans have done for centuries.  There would be no easy
way to tell the special difference between this one and all the others.  Only
if you approached it, and even then only if you were one of the few born with
the Magene, could you tell the difference.
     The caravan leader was an Anchor, and a powerful one.
     And he was even more than that.
     "Iskandar."  A tall man of coptic ancestry rode up next to the lead
camel.  "How long until we reach the primary site?"
     "Two weeks, Horsaiset."  It was not a name so much as an honorific, but
it was all they were allowed to call him.  His new cybereye, modified so that
it appeared mere flesh and blood at first glance, sent a pulse of red light
out into the swirling sand.  "From there, we will head to Abu Simbel, as you
instructed."
     "Very good."  Smiling, he looked back at the caravanserai.  "How fares
our passenger?"
     "She sleeps."
     "Make sure she remains so, at least until we camp for the night.  If she
awakens, the sands could peel the flesh from our skin."  "Horsaiset" smiled
at the thought.  "It's all coming together, Iskandar.  Soon, it begins."
     "Pino would be amazed."
     "Yes."  The smile muted somewhat.  "I expect he will be."

               *              *              *              *

[June 25th, 2024 - 5:02 PM Khadam Local Time]

     "Trite," Conflicto looked up from his console.  "Incoming call from
Zug-Man."
     Derek considered trying to get Conflicto to stop calling him that, but
he knew the effort wouldn't be worth it.  Instead, he merely sighed.
     "Open it up."
     The holographic system...another gift of Doublecross, Derek smiled to
himself...created a very convincing three-dimensional image of Arnold Zugmann
right in the center of the Flying Bridge.  Also visible around the image was
an interesting background effect, making it possible to see what environment
the man was in by walking around the image, looking at the walls and floors
of the area.  It was as if a cylinder of the Palace had appeared within
Skyhaven.
     "President-for-Life Zugmann.  I haven't heard from you in a while.  To
what do I owe the honor?"  The irony dripped from Derek's words; Zugmann had
made a point of ignoring the CSV when they arrived near the Khadamite border.
     "I have no time for games."  Zugmann's poise was immaculate; even as the
Upper City was beseiged by Shadowmonger- corrupted Scytharian Androids and
the enraged test subjects of the Vivarium, he acted as if he was in control.
"I come to you with a proposition."
     "Do tell."  Labyrinthe closed his eyes, screening out the conversation;
it wasn't important *what* they said.  What was important was, for the first
time all day, the CSV now had a powerful, heavily encrypted radio beam
linking them to the depths of Zugmann's sanctum, where the Pranir and
Technomancers no doubt were trying to wait out the storm.  He concentrated on
the Palace, ignoring the misgivings his participation brought to the surface,
and found what he sought, a sympathetic connection to the palace that his
magic could latch onto.
     Now all he had to do was tell Triton.
     If he didn't, the plan would probably continue apace, but it would be
more difficult.  There was still a chance for him, he realized.  All he had
to do was *leave*.  As it was, he knew that Solar Max would eventually come
looking for him, outraged at what the man would see as his treachery.  Yvan
didn't think he'd be able to convince the "hero" that it hadn't been his idea
to kill those guards.
     He opened his eyes and nodded to no one in particular.

     "...as we have been very magnanimous in ignoring your encroachments into
our territory, we..." Arnold Zugmann didn't get to finish his sentence.
     As the Technomancer Council looked on in horror, the President-for-Life
of Khadam vanished, to be replaced with a group of four people in garish
costumes.  They recognized each immediately: CJ Brown, the woman now calling
herself Burnout, wearing a set of red and black leathers and a pair of
elaborate gloves that connected to a flatpack tank on her back by means of
flat metal cables running up her arms, smiling as flames licked the palms of
her hands; Yvan Viau, the infamous spatial mage Labyrinthe, in a cloak that
defied logic as it folded about him; Eugene Kwan, better known to the world
as Conflicto, in his orange and yellow costume pointing an elaborate video
camera at first one, and then another of them.
     And in their midst stood Triton, his bearing quiet and menacing inside
the elaborate power armor he wore, the crackling collapsed-iron weapon in his
hand the infamous Astro Spear.
     "What have you done with Arnold?"  Dr. Sheng was the first to regain his
composure; he had, after all, lived a very long time.
     "He's secure. I simply wanted..." Ten Scytharian Oblivion-units,
complicated artifical life forms composed of elaborate energy fields
generated by swarming robotic units barely larger than an ant, responded to
the intrusion.  A hybrid product of microtechnology and the energy-matrix
creatures developed two generations ago, they lacked the weaknesses of those
purely-energy predecessors.  They moved in unison, attempting to overwhelm
the four CSV'ers as quickly as possible.
     Burnout pointed a hand at the ceiling and a jet of flames rocketed out
of her new gloves, totally missing the Scytharians...and twisting risibly in
the air, it took on a serpentine menace and threatened to engulf the
Technomancer Council and Pranir Representatives.  The enforcers hesitated,
conflicting priorities making their artifical minds hesitant.
     Conflicto grinned, and suddenly the swarms of matrix-bees began to
squirm and fall from their place in the energy beings as their internal
components caught fire, the friction on their few moving parts magnified a
thousand-fold.  Burnout amplifed the sparks, causing sheets of fire to leap
from bee to bee.  Six Scytharians dropped in a second, demonstrating that
there's always a new weakness to be exploited.
     Labyrinthe gestured, and two more vanished, enfolded in a pocket of
space that would trap them indefinitely.
     Triton waited for the last two, who had managed to avoid Conflicto's
power, as they hummed towards him.  He spun the collapsium shaft of his
weapon, causing it to plunge into the heart of the closest Scytharian, and
then discharged a gravitic pulse into the core, creating a pinpoint
singularity within the creature.  It had been War Star's most dreaded attack,
and it was still as hideous as ever as it imploded the android and tore half
of the other one away from its body.  The damaged swarm, unable to create the
energy body, fell apart.
     "...to have a few words with the *real* rulers of Khadam."
     Triton's emotionless faceplate, combined with the efficiency of the CSV
in dispatching their protectors, made even the great Technomancers consider
their situation.
     "Now, I could kill you all and just *take* power."  Triton walked from
the center of the room so that he could look at each of them in turn.
     "That's my favorite option, actually."  Burnout, wrapped in flames that
acted like pet serpents yet never touched her skin, sat down in Zugmann's
chair.  Alloy tried to stare her down; she merely began humming some atonal
music that unnerved the cyborg.
     "You know, I think I like the new Burnout *much* better."  Conflicto
slid over to where she was sitting and directed the camera.  "C'mon, smile
pretty for the lens...history in the making and all."  Labyrinthe shook his
head wearily as Kwan bantered with the unsettling woman who'd taken Lana
Smith's place.  It disturbed him greatly to learn that one of *them* had been
a puppet of Mister Strings the whole time, and even more so to see Kwan and
Radner accepting her so readily.
     "I could do that," Triton stopped in front of the oldest Pranir, aiming
his words to him.  "However, I know that Khadam would fall apart without you,
and I have no desire to rule a disintegrating rump state until the Moslem
Coalition or the European Union come in and finally cleanse Ghat."
     "So where does that leave us?" Huang Sheng spoke again, apparently
taking on the role of Technomancer representative.  "Here you stand, in our
sanctum. Anyone else who has dared come here without our approval has died
for it.  And we are far from helpless..."
     "We're wasting time," Triton interrupted.  "You may be able to attack us
in new ways, but yes, you *are* helpless.  The 'subjects' of the Vivarium
have been breeding, and waiting, for *two decades*.  There are more than five
times what your census indicates, and they're *all* coming.  And, on the
other hand, the Shadowmongers are twisting your own imported technology to
their benefit, making your defense a shambles.  You need us as much as we
need you."
     A faint sound punctuated the speech; a distant rumble, like thunder.  No
need to explain that Labyrinthe was piping the sound in.  It made the point.
     "Support me, and I'll save Khadam.  I think we've proved that we're more
than capable of doing what Zugmann cannot."  Triton popped the faceplate of
his armor open so that they could see his face.  "By all means, keep him on.
Trot him out for ceremonies and what have you.  I could care less.  All I
want...is the *power*."
     The four remaining members of the Technomancer Council, rulers of
Khadam, looked nervously around the room.

     "...would appreciate..." Arnold Zugmann found himself standing on the
bridge of Skyhaven, surrounded by strangers in garish costumes.  It disturbed
him.
     Still, despite that, he spun on one heel with inhuman grace and smashed
his booted foot into the chest of the nearest one of them, a strangely fluid
being who, even as it dropped, shifted its shape.  His anger boiled over as
he recognized Alpha-Rho-Twelve, a Khadamite shapeshifter, and supposedly his
agent in the CSV.
     "Treason in one of our own?" Zugmann moved to cripple another of them,
when a burning red light suddenly filled the area, and a glowing, vaguely
man-shaped being who looked a lot like a Scytharian Atlas or Oblivion unit
stepped between him and the woman.
     "Zugmann, old buddy...You just stepped into the Zone." 
     Unimpressed, the President-for-Life let out a tremendous shout.  Age had
affected his enhanced vocal chords, but that one yell was enough to make all
the humans in the room wince with pain.
     Zone ignored it and slammed a piledriver-like fist directly into
Zugmann's midsection.  His emulated ears didn't transmit pain signals, and
Zone briefly wondered if there might be some advantages to the form he was
stuck with.
     "You dumb bastard."  As his target fell onto his back, almost too
surprised to feel pain, Zone stepped forward and stomped down hard,
shattering the man's hand.  "Genetic ubermensch or not, nobody beats me in my
own court."
     Then he slapped him; not hard enough to hurt the man, but enough to be
infuriating, especially to a proud man like this.
     "That is enough, Gerhard." Caryatid stepped over to the light-being.
"Help President-for-Life Zugmann to his feet...after all, we will need him in
one piece, for the Press Conference."
     She bent to stare the beaten man in the face.
     "Unless he'd prefer the shapeshifter takes his role."
     Myriad walked up behind her, already swelling to his dimensions, long
silver-grey hair flowing from her altering body.  His eyes opened wide, and
then, as if drowning, he coughed in pain.

               *              *              *              *

[June 26, 2024 - 1200 GMT (4:00 PM Khadam Local Time)]

     The fires were still smouldering in Ghat, but most of the violence had
now dissipated.  The art-deco silhouette of Skyhaven appearing over the Upper
City was the first sight that seemed to defuse much of the Vivarium's
outrage.  The second was the almost unexplainable disappearance of the
corrupted Scytharians in service to the Shadowmonger Council.  They vanished
as if smoke in a high wind.
     There was still much of that in Ghat.  It was rumored that a black woman
with a sinister glee animating her attractive features walked the streets all
night, causing the fires to erupt wherever she walked and consuming anyone
who dared challenge her progress.
     It was easy to believe such things in the hesitant hours between dusk
and dawn, as Khadam waited to see what was happening in the Presidential
Palace.

     In STRAFE headquarters, Dan 'Grind' Tracey was completeing the one task
so arduous that it could even exhaust a nearly-perfect man such as himself.
     Paperwork.
     Lots and lots of paperwork.  Reports on the Manhattan situation, even
months later, still needed to be filed.  Reports on Jay Teller's experiences
in Porta Genetico needed to be surveyed.  Reports on recent activity, like
the Pit breakout and a strange "exodus" of Chinese paranormals to cities on
the coast, the funeral of a close friend to mark down and of course the
seemingly contradictory reported sightings of Lorenzo Archangeli.
     In the past three months, Rebus had been sighted in Novosibirsk, in
disputed territory between the EU, China and the Moslem Coalition; in New
York, where as "Odin" he'd apparently kidnapped the vigilante known as
Warden; and in Japan, where he'd blown up the Token Hakubutsukan, stolen a
top secret EU project in optical data encryption, and evaded EUROPA agents
Arc, Ymir and Oni.  Ymir's report on the situation indicated that Warden was
somehow involved; apparently Rebus had played some sort of elaborate game
with the man.
     It all made Dan rather uneasy.  Archangeli was devious and intelligent;
whatever he was up to was no doubt rooted somehow in his strange obsession
with mythology and puzzles.
     He'd just about decided to investigate it more thoroughly when Jennifer
Kleinvogel came running into his office.
     "Dan!"
     "What?" He slid from his seat with liquid grace. 
     "Come on...you *have* to see this."

     In the Plaza of Unification, another fancy title for the courtyard
outside the Presidential Palace, an uneasy mob had gathered.  Its makeup was
diverse.
     Most of it was composed of the poor dregs of Khadamite society who were
forced to work in the various "industries" of the nation.  Many had "donated"
a kidney or a lung or even an eye to their Pranir overlords; for while humans
with the Universal Donor tendency were the best choice, almost any human
being was a good match for *some* unscrupulous Santari who needed a
transplant.
     Making the crowd seem even more disturbing were the various
no-longer-humans from the Vivarium; the Badgers, semi-humanoids who'd been
infused with mustelid DNA, the Bull-Men, the Gatorkin, and things that
couldn't even be that clearly identified.  A sea of horns and fangs and
hooves and the occasional tentacle, all waiting in ill-humor.  They'd run
riot all the day before, and they were ready to do it again, knowing that
they could overwhelm the Scytharians with sheer numbers and freakish
strength.
     Those same Scytharians, from the primitive flesh and metal cyborgs to
the advanced energy forms, all quivered in anticipation.  They had been
commanded to stand aside and only offer violence in kind, not to press
anything.  This left them confused and bewildered.
     Up on a balcony, a scene so familiar it could have come from a Leni
Refeinstahl film, a group of people strode out to the lip and addressed the
crowd.  Their images and voices were projected onto a large screen above
them, and broadcast as well onto the world's computer and satellite networks.
     "People of Khadam."  Arnold Zugmann's smile was patently false; everyone
who saw the enormous man speak knew that.  Yet he was not the most important
person on that balcony, as was evidenced by the slump of his shoulders and
his whole bearing.  "A new day dawns.  Please, join me in welcoming the new
Chancellor of all Khadam...the man who will lead us into our new and glorious
future."
     Silence for a moment, as if the words were burning his throat.
     "I give you Triton."

     In Berlin, the Viktualienmarket erupted into frenzied celebration.
Crowds of Vogue Ghouls from every gang, from the big ones like Der Zepter to
the smallest, groups like Todthaus and Le Fluers du Onoshi, had gathered
there after news of the CSV's brief appearance had spread.  Now, red-painted
Vernichtung Teufel youths howled and drank heavily with their former rivals
in Der Zepter, unified by their shared adulation and the ascension of one of
their idols.
     In Rome, EUROPA headquarters was more subdued. 
     General Pushaparaja sat at his desk, staring unblinkingly as some of his
worst fears for the world came true.  The leader of a group directly
responsible for one of his people's deaths...and the loss of another to his
own demons...now sat at the helm of a nation that had already proven to be a
threat to the whole planet.  He was beyond anger; his was a more gentle
determination to set things right.
     At the Chicago, Illinois sector headquarters of ASH, this news was just
another blow in a stream of them.  The losses suffered at the hands of a
vengeful Santari, the death of one of their own and crippling of others, then
the painful escape of a captive at the Cavity casting doubt onto one of their
own, and now one of their most infamous failures returning to haunt them.
Solar Max sat alone in a darkened room, the helmet of his armor cradled in
his hands like the skull of an accusing revenant.  He wasn't sure which was
worse...that he felt responsible for all this, or that he didn't feel
*worse*.
     In Manhattan, the man known as Rex Umbrae smiled at Arnold Zugmann's
humiliation.  The hate he felt for the man was obvious in his stare, as
obvious as his own expectation that his connections in Ghat would remain
uninterrupted by this change.
     The emotions at STRAFE headquarters were entirely different.
     "That smirking son of a bitch."  Tony Drake found himself so angry that
he could barely stand up.
     "Tony, chill out."  Jay Teller tried to placate his friend, but it
wasn't easy.  On the screen of their monitor system stood a man in a gleaming
blue and gold suit of armor, the repainted Strafe armor that seemed to mock
them with its very name.  As they watched, the man inside it reached up with
one hand and removed the helmet.
     Derek Radner's smug, grinning features looked even more insufferable in
high-definition FractalView video.
     "People of Khadam.  I have little to say.  So I suppose I'd better just
say it."  He strode to the very edge of the balcony, seemingly unconcerned
that anything might threaten him.  Of course, with Skyhaven now moving into
position over the palace, he was doubtlessly protected by unseen measures.
     "In the past, you have been used.  Treated as expendable labor or organ
banks, thrown aside as failed experiments.  No one, from your leaders on
down, has done anything to lift your suffering.  Well, that time is at an
end.  No more experiments, no more forced labor.  Khadam is your nation; I
will lead it, and you, to your rightful destiny."
     The membership of STRAFE watched in horror as the crowd erupted into
cheers.  They were experts in gauging propaganda; what Radner was saying
might be such, but it was obvious that the crowd reaction was genuine.
     "My God."  Dan Tracey couldn't believe what he was seeing.  "They love
him."
     "Of course they do."  Richard Hendrick, the mundane agent who headed up
STRAFE's Affiliated-Field Experts, raised one grey eyebrow.  "He's young,
good-looking, and he's promising them a better life.  He's everything Zugmann
isn't.  It sure as hell doesn't hurt that he's like a return to the old days,
when Khadam openly supported Super-Villains and prospered because of it."
     "But..." Kleinvogel swallowed her words; what was there to say?  It was
happening right in front of them.
     All they could do was watch.
     "I could lie to you and say that I have changed my ways, but I have not.
Others label me a 'villain' and I wear that badge proudly; like Napoleon,
like Alexander the Great, like Devastator, I know that in the end I shall
change the world.  People with that kind of ambition are always a threat to
the small-minded."
     Triton held the Collapsiron spear above his head, a gesture more suited
to another time, but he was not surprised by the howls of the crowd.
Obviously as he'd expected.  They so desperately needed something to rally
behind, and he was becoming it.  Tell them they're no longer slaves, and
they'll work harder than when they *were* slaves.
     "Khadam's destiny is not to be isolated and vulnerable.  Khadam's
destiny is not to be at the mercy of theocrats and bureaucrats.  No, our
destiny is to unify, to accept all of our people be they alien or mutant,
paranormal or not, and in that strength we shall become strong.  I will
provide that unity, and I know that you will rise to provide all the strength
Khadam requires."
     His smile dropped away as he looked directly into the camera.  He
touched his nose for an instant; only a few people knew what that meant, but
those that did knew that the next words out of his mouth were intended for
one man.
     "And then, Khadam will take its place in the world...its rightful place.
*Our* rightful place.  I thank you, everyone who helped build my resolve and
hone my abilities.  Be assured, I will give you the rewards you deserve.
_All_ of you."
     The transmission ended.

               *              *              *              *

[June 26, 2024 - 1753 GMT (9:53 PM Khadam Local Time)]

     The celebration raged on in the streets.  It was almost as chaotic as
the uprising had been, save that this time the destruction was absent, or at
least muted.  Mutants swarmed out of the Vivarium and celebrated with those
who had managed to escape the expermentations of the Technomancers.  Even a
few Scytharians were seen to join in.
     The new Chancellor of Khadam took it all in.
     "Triton." He turned and saw Arnold Zugmann standing twenty yards away
from him.  Even though he knew his smile was invisible to the other man,
still he grinned at the impotent fury in the man's rigid posture.
     "Mister President.  I'm honored you could visit me."
     "Save that for your dupes."
     "Dupes?"  The mirror to Triton's left rippled like water, and the Viau
twins stepped through, along with C.J. Brown.  "Oh no, President Zugmann.
That was always *your* mistake.  We intend to treat the citizens of Khadam
with respect.  It will make taking over the world much, much easier."
     Zugmann blanched as the true depths of Triton's mania broke through to
the surface.  He was so shocked he barely noticed as Burnout sidled past him
and leaned against the epaulet of Triton's armor.
     "Well, I just walked the Vivarium again.  The people...and the things
that wish they were people...are very excited about your new reign.  I'd say
we have their support."
     "Yvan?" Triton looked over at Layrinthe.  "Do you concur?"
     "They are yours.  Most are happy to have any change at all...some are
downright enthusiastic at the idea of a 'super-villain' in charge.  It's as
if King Arthur showed up in London."
     Zugmann sputtered at that.  Caryatid, finally noticing his presence,
turned to him.
     "Are you still here?"
     "We can fix that."  Labyrinthe gestured. The President (if in name only)
finally understanding the totality of his defeat and the reaches of his
nemesis's ambition, did the only thing he could.
     He turned and left.	
     "Excellent."  Triton turned his attention away, out onto the city.
*His* city.  "How are we on restoring the black markets?"
     "Yvan and I should be able to do that in a few days, with Tiara's help."
Claudette smiled.  "And then?"
     "Like I told Zugmann...and then, the world."  He savored the feeling of
victory.  His enemies were many, and he knew it.  Yet, at that moment, as the
darkness of night was lit by the lights of the Upper City and the fires of
the Vivarium, he knew he'd finally achieved his goal.  He was the undisputed
leader of the CSV.  He was the de facto ruler of the most technologically
advanced nation in the world.
     He was the most famous Super-Villain in the world.
     Now let the games begin.

============================================================================

NEXT ISSUE:

     Tony's back! (And there was much rejoicing...how does he *juggle* such a
large cast?  I couldn't do it justice.  [He's a long-time Legion of Super-
Heroes fan, huge casts are no biggie to LSHers. - Editor Lad])  Whatever he
does, we know it'll be good, so stay tuned!

============================================================================

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

     Sometimes, the bad guys win.
     In real life, of course, the bad guys win entirely too often.  In fact,
it often seems as though they win more than they lose, but that's a cynic's
point of view.  The truth is, the real world is a hell of a lot more
complicated than that, and it's a good thing it is.
     But we're talking about fiction now, and specifically the fictional
world that sparked this three issue run on CSV.  Why, you may ask, would I be
eager to write about a group of evil bastards?
     And I gotta tell you, I really was eager to do it, too.
     The reason is because in ASH, the bad guys have really done a lot to
make the fun of writing happen.  It's an old saw that you can't have a good
story without interesting villains, and it may not be true in all things, but
by God it's true in the world of Superheroes.
     The bad guys steal the show. 
     The bad guys get to be absolute *bastards*.  Once, Marc Singer and I
were discussing a villain he was creating for an RPG he and I play in, and we
came right out and admitted it.
     "His power," Marc said, leaning over the table and smiling in 
his seraphic way, "is Super-Bastardy."
     This led to a whole exchange of possible origins for the character.
     "He was launched from a planet of bastards, and when exposed to Earth's
yellow sun..."
     "One night he was sitting in his study, trying to decide what to do
about the death of his parents when he was a child, when a bastard came
flying through his window.  'That's it!' He exclaimed.  'Criminals are
bastards!'"
     "He was summoned by a dying alien and given a ring, making him a member
of the Interstellar Bastard Corps."
     "While attending a science exhibit, he was purposefully bitten by a
radioactive bastard."
     Of course, you might be saying now, none of those possible origins apply
to this story.  You'd be right.
     But by God, sometimes the bad guys win, and as the man said, criminals
are bastards.
     And bastards get to do all those horrible, bastardly things we all wish
we could do, in the secret bastardly heart we keep hidden within.
     It's been a blast.  Thanks a lot for reading...you beautiful bastards.