.                 Blackbird & Countinghouse Presents:             
   ( )                 CONCLAVE OF SUPER-VILLAINS               ( )
    I          An Academy of Super-Heroes Universe Comic         I
    I                  copyright 2003 by Tony Pi                 I
                          GIANT SIZED ANNUAL #1
                               "Heirs"
==========================================================================

     [Cover: A jeweled crown is juxtaposed with an old, rusty anchor, 
      a pair of tridents are crossed beneath them.]

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

THE FIRST ESTATE

Pope Paul VII       Carlito Stagliano        Minor Anchor
Aegis               Cas Kiris-Ierulli        Power Enhancement/Duplication

THE SECOND ESTATE

Maxim Rainier Charles Etienne Montesquieu de Grimaldi  Prince of Monaco
Ursula Grace Caroline Maxine Stephanie de Grimaldi     Master Thief
TerraStar           Polla Hectrix Termiddo             Geomancer
Triton              Derek Radner                       Chancellor of Khadam

THE THIRD ESTATE

The Eye of Horus    Devlin Marx                        Anchor
Burnout             Cockatrice/Mr. Strings             Ash Elemental
Irrlicht            Petra Hollander                    Photonic Being


THE FOURTH ESTATE

Challenger          Robert Coulter                     Cyborg

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

[Monte Carlo, December 11, 2024]

     "It is good to see you again, Maxim," said Devlin Marx, shaking the hand
of the Prince of Monaco, Maxim Rainier Charles Etienne Montesquieu de
Grimaldi.  "Thank you for the invitation, though I wish it were under happier
circumstances."
     Maxim sighed and looked out of the one-way mirror into his casino.  They
were alone in Security-B, where banks of monitors scanned the roulette tables
below for signs of cheating.  In particular, for the use of paranormal
powers.  "Remember the golden days of the twenty-tens?  When simply creds,
not lives, were at stake?  It all changed with damn Triton."
     Marx caught a flashing light on a monitor to his right, and interpreted
the readings.  "Maxim," he said, "table seven, that man raking in his
winnings on twenty-five red.  Name's Emile Grande, who just used minor
probability-alteration to win.  Should I shut him down?"  He did not tell the
Prince that he recognized Grande as one of the Conclave's Fenris Wolves.
     The Prince nodded.  "Please.  Ever since our staff Anchors died, the
paras have been getting bolder.  I'll have a security detail escort Monsieur
Grande from the premises."
     Marx fixed his eyes on Grande, and thrust unwavering reality like a
spear to transfix the gambler.  Grande sensed the Anchoring of his power, and
glanced nervously at the mirror that hid the prince and his guest.  A bead of
sweat rolled down his forehead.  "He feels it," said Marx.  "He thinks the
world's Anchors gone, but a few of us are still in the hunt."
     Maxim finished talking to his people on his black-cel, and soon casino
security approached Grande in the lounge below.  "This is exactly why I asked
you here, Devlin.  I know your own fortunes have been decimated by Rebus, and
your casino empire has taken a devastating blow.  I could use someone of your
talent here.  Someone qualified to run my casino and with the power to Anchor
my principality."
     Marx raised an eyebrow.  "Your casino surely isn't in trouble?"
     Maxim sighed.  "If it only were just the casino."  He toyed with a
switch on a T-caliper in front of him.  "My family has made some powerful
enemies.  You might say that your enemies are mine as well."
     "The Conclave of Super-Villains."  Marx ground his teeth.  "Why?"
     "I can't say," answered Maxim.  "But just between friends, I want you to
know that you may be the only man capable of saving Monaco and my daughter
from the CSV's wrath.  A shield against them."
     Marx shook his head.  "They have beaten me before.  I cannot stand
against them all, only a fraction of their power."
     "I don't intend for you to take them on in battle, my friend.  Just be
here to protect Ursula.  I'll even offer you a royal commission.  Just name
it and I will make it so."
     Marx had never seen Maxim so shaken.  The man was afraid to lose Ursula
as he had his wife Renata.  "Look, Max.  Whatever Triton's feud against you
is, it could be mere bluster.  I see no reason for the Chancellor of Khadam
to take interest in Monaco, of all places.  *My* presence will likely only
make things worse.  But if it will make you feel more at ease, I'll stay and
see if I am truly needed."
     Maxim lit a cigarette nervously.  "I can't tell you why, Devlin, but the
threat is all too real."

               *              *              *              *

[Khadam Citadel, December 11, 2024]

     She was Terrastar.  Polla Hectrix Termiddo, Daughter of Empire, worthy
of a mere three names and destined to be known by only one, looked down the
length of the AstroSpear pointed at her by the man who now wielded her
father's most formidable weapon.  Derek Radner, who called himself Triton and
dared to remake the AstroSpear into a trident, questioned her again.  He had
not been pleased that Conflicto had admitted her into the Conclave of Super-
Villains without his approval, and he was still justifiably suspicious of her
motives.
     "One thing still eludes me, TerraStar.  Why have you joined us?" he
asked.  "If you are your father's daughter, then I expect you too were sent
to conquer this Earth."  He twirled the AstroSpear in his grip, demonstrating
that while he appeared to wear only a fine Italian suit, he was clearly using
some form of exosuit that enhanced his strength to the point where he could
treat the multi-ton weapon like a toy.  An implied threat...I am never as
vulnerable as I seem.  "Did you come to take this?  Foolish Eugene...no sense
of our illustrious history."
     Polla was calm.  "I do not hide who I am.  I do not hide the will of my
father, the Emperor.  He wishes that I re-evaluate the chances of a
successful conquest, the same task that he was set to do.  All this I tell
you because it would be pointless to lie."  It was true: her size, the crest
on her armor, and appearance would have given her away.  Rather, she
concealed her true nature by pretending not to possess the full sorcerous
might at her command, playing at the simple geomancy that had been her Gift
since birth.
     Derek had his thumb on one of the Spear's buttons, and tapped it gently
without activating it.  "Such candor could get you killed, in certain
circles.  I'm afraid you cannot simply steal the AstroSpear.  I've grown
quite fond of it."
     She shrugged.  "There is no pressing need to acquire it.  I *will*
inherit the 'Spear, yes.  But when the time comes, it will not serve as my
weapon, but as a symbol of my fitness to rule as Empress after my father."
     "Ah.  But I intend to give it to my own son, one day," answered Derek.
"How can we resolve this...clash of wills, so to speak?  Without killing each
other?"
     With one touch, he could destroy her with the weapon.  It was a test of
her loyalty, of course.  Could she be a part of his team without acting on
her ambitions of power?  Or would he be wiser to eliminate her now?  Polla
gambled that Radner would not kill her so long as she remained useful to him.
It was evident from the company he kept.  The Conclavers all schemed and
betrayed him, but he expected the betrayals.  How could she convince him that
she would not be expendable?
     "Firstly, I am expressedly forbidden to return to my dimension without
the AstroSpear.  My father unleashed its great energies to create a gateway
to return home, but it also locked the 'Spear in this world, to brace the
gate.  I must discover an alternate method of return, and that may take
years.
     "Second, you're Lord Chancellor of Khadam, and leader of the most
powerful super-criminals in this dimension.  With the demise of Rebus, that
makes you the truest Emperor your world has seen to date.  But you still have
years to go before you amass enough power to rival my father.  Thus, you are
the true measure against whom I must compete.  I will not take the 'Spear
from you, but there will come a day when I will become greater than you in
this world, when you will acknowledge that I have outstripped you in power.
Only then will I demand the 'Spear, and you will give it to me freely."
     Triton laughed.  "Well said, well said!  A friendly competition to keep
me at the top of my game, and you at yours.  But the balance of power may tip
and sway.  Let us set a deadline for this race, then.  Ten years to this day,
at the stroke of midnight Zulu time.  Whichever one of us has conquered the
world by then, or a larger portion of it, secures perpetual rights for his or
her bloodline to wield the AstroSpear.  Agreed?"
     Polla smiled.  "Let us seek Glyph, then, and set the terms in blood."
     Poor fool.  She already had some ideas on how to bring Triton to his
knees.  All she had to do was follow the lines of power....

               *              *              *              *

[Monte Carlo, December 13, 2024]

    "Where have you been, Ursula?" asked Prince Maxim.
    "Abroad," answered Princess Ursula Grace Caroline Maxine Stephanie de
Grimaldi.  "No need to get upset, father.  No secret rendez-vous with the
CSV, if that's what you're worried about."
    Maxim sighed.  "I don't like you vanishing without a word.  Humor me and
take Auguste with you next time.  Or your newest bodyguard, if I can convince
him to stay.  Remember Devlin Marx?"
    Ursula smiled.  "How could I forget?"  She had amassed an impressive
store of information about the ex-billionaire over her careers as thief and
super-villainess.  In fact, she had had "professional" dealings with Marx, or
his property at least, a few years back, as the Laughing Oyster.  One was a
diamond-studded tiara from the Majestic Atlantic's vault, the other a lost da
Vinci notebook on ancient Egyptian pyramid-building methods removed from
Marx's private collection at the Desert Poseidon.  She had only met the man
once, however, at her debutante ball sixteen years ago, and thought him a
handsome man then.  Meeting him during her other dealings with the man would
have been...careless.
     Little did her father suspect that ever since Triton had issued his
ultimatum, she had been leaving specific reminders around the palace to guide
her father's thoughts along the lines of bringing the Anchor to Monaco.  It
was essential to her plans to safeguard Monaco against any CSV reprisals, but
not in the way that her father intended.
     "I look forward to meeting Mr. Marx again," she told Maxim.  "Perhaps he
will be more effective than your other watchdogs."

     The following day, Ursula visited Devlin Marx during his morning swim in
the palace's private sea-water pool.  It was a chance to try on her newest
Silvestri original, a revealing yet stylish swimsuit that made bold use of
coral motifs.
     "Leave us, Auguste," said Ursula.  Her bodyguard bowed and left the
poolside.
     "Princess Ursula," said Marx, climbing out of the pool and covering
himself with a towel.  "I didn't think you'd come for a swim so early.  I
don't know if you remember me.  I'm...."
     "Of course, Monsieur Marx.  Father told me to expect you."  She smiled
at him.  "I've followed your career with much interest, au naturellement.  As
for the hour, few paparazzi expect me to wake this early in the day."  She
looked him over.  Distinguished, as most people might say, but Marx had a
dangerous quality to him simmering beneath the surface, much like Dan Tracey.
Yet there was a quality to Marx that Grind lacked: maturity.  Like her, Marx
had seen the world before the gods, and the world after.  She liked that.
"You're quite fit.  For a man twice my age, that is.  Father seems to think
you can protect me.  But can you keep up with my jetset lifestyle?"
     "Don't underestimate men in their prime, Your Highness.  I dare say, I
would be a formidable match for you, even with your advantage of youth."
     "I can take care of myself, Marx." 
     "Even against superpowers?  Spiral could break your legs with a snap of
her fingers.  Conflicto could make every blink of your eyelids rip your
cornea to shreds.  At least I can even the odds."
     Ursula laughed.  Eugene was more likely to grovel at her feet to give
her a foot massage.  And she had snuck Anya into many ballet performances
across Eurasia, and bought loyalty that way.  "Frankly, Mr. Marx, I don't
think they'd dare touch royalty.  But tell you what: If you can stop me from
completing three laps in this pool, I will treat this more seriously."  With
barely any warning, she dove gracefully into the water and torpedoed towards
the other side.
     Marx reacted immediately.  His speed might not have been as great as
when he was a young bounty hunter, but he was still quicker than most.
Ursula herself had a surprising speed, and it would be difficult to catch up
to her by following her.  Instead, he leapt into the pool and prepared to
intercept her on her second lap.
     Already, Ursula had touched the wall of the other side of the pool; one
lap down.  After all, she had won a bronze for Monaco in the 400 meter back
in the 2010 Summer Olympics in Toronto.
     "Why didn't you go to the Games in Houston two years ago?" Marx asked,
as he positioned himself to grab her as she came by.  "You were sure to win a
gold in Equestrian, they say.  Or another in swimming."
     "I don't like being predictable.  I enjoy the challenge, not the
certainty of victory, Devlin Marx."  She took a deep breath and evaded Marx's
grasp by going underwater.  She touched the wall and flipped around, but did
not spring towards the other side as Marx had expected.  If she had, he would
have grabbed her by the arm.
     Instead, she stayed put, treading water as they gazed into each other's
eyes.
     "Almost caught me, Devlin Marx.  Few people come close."  She swam
closer to the silver-haired bounty hunter.
     "And how close did I come?" asked Devlin.
     She embraced him and they sank together into the water as her lips met
his. 

               *              *              *              *

[The Congo, December 14, 2024]

     TerraStar sat away from Kaliban and Challenger, who were chatting away
about the first things they'd do once the training was complete and they
found their way out of the forsaken jungle.  The tree-crab units proved to be
easily destroyed with well-placed impacts, a fact that they exploited.  Only
five more units left, given their mission specs.  And even if Triton had
planned to surprise them with tougher opposition, he was unlikely to tip his
hand yet.  So she took the risk and fell into a trance, tapping into the
Earth's geomantic energies.
     Her consciousness drifted towards a ley line, and she followed that
north to a nexus.  But the locus itself wasn't what she was looking for.  She
needed the *users* of that power, allies to sculpt and mold.  She needed to
find those who unknowingly tapped the earth magic, like dormant volcanoes
waiting to erupt.  So TerraStar began her search at Mount Etna, and spread a
thin ley net north to detect tremors of earthly power.
     She was not surprised when she detected two such beings in Berlin, right
next to each other.  She had considered them possible candidates from the
start, and Berlin was a natural refuge for one of them.  But dawn was swiftly
approaching, she needed to make contact quickly.
     The concentration of earthly power made it easy to craft a homonculus of
herself out of the soil of a potted plant near the two targets.  Her soil
homonculus spread its senses and detected the two women, sending sense
analogues back to TerraStar.  The first was a young woman who seemed like a
quartz crystal emanating a pale light, but with an unfinished facet studded
with rough concrete.  The other was magma incarnate, with two eyes of black
opal and hair of ash.  They were perched on top of a stone building in the
Western Quarter.
     The crystalline lass turned towards the homonculus.  "What do we have
here?"
     "Greetings, Light Errant.  And good to see you are alive and well,
Burnout," the homonculus said.  "We've met briefly before.  I am TerraStar."
     "Ah.  The newest recruit.  We've only half-met," sang Burnout.  
     There was something different about Burnout, besides the change of
bodies that Polla expected.  "We knew you were trapped inside Cockatrice, but
most believe you were killed in that fire soon after.  But I do not sense in
you the elements of water and air that once empowered the ice queen.
Instead, there is the power of earth and fire inside you, the ingredients for
ash."
     "Thanks for the update, TerraStar, but we are still blind and
powerless," sang Burnout.  "We agree, though, that getting back the ability
to petrify people would be at the top of our list.  That's how our warring
personalities managed to come to a compromise this last few weeks.  But
unless you can do something about it, leave us be."
     "Ah, but I can."  Polla's homonculus smiled for her.  "My control over
the earth is not limited to the simple movement of stones, I can bring your
own elemental essence into balance far more quickly than it would on its
own."  Better to not show her entire range of ability even to allies, Polla
had decided...especially allies that could so easily turn into enemies.
     The homonculus now pointed to Light Errant.  "And you, Irrlicht...there
once was a highly powerful ritual performed here, in Berlin.  You were part
of it."
     The crystal lady nodded.  "Labyrinthe created his WorldMaze out of the
remnants of the Berlin Wall.  I wormed my way into the ritual and was able to
access that interdimensional maze.  But when Labyrinthe and Caryatid
vanished, the WorldMaze seemed to have been destroyed."  She shivered.  "But
I feel it calling to me, still."
     "You do not see that you are the sole link on Earth to the banished
WorldMaze, yet it is clear to me."  It was the patch of concrete on the
crystalline form that gave it away.  "Something prevented you from being
banished along with the Viaus by Peregryn.  Perhaps it is your nature as
part-light.  Maybe some sort of quantum entanglement, if my theory is
correct.  But you are the only person who can navigate through the lost
WorldMaze and discover where the Viaus are.  And that, my friends, is worth
gambling on."
    Burnout smiled.  "And all you ask in return?"
    "A new Triumvirate, banding together to conquer the world...and humiliate
the Conclave of Super-Villains."
    Light Errant shook her head.  "TerraStar, you have not lived with *this*
Burnout.  Trish and Tyra are both in her, and that makes for a very
complicated woman.  Literally of two minds and conflicting goals.  Are you
sure you're up for this?"
    Burnout laughed.  "Hush, Petra.  Since we two cannot harm ourselves or
oust the other from our minds, we've come to negotiate with one another.  The
ending of our feud leaves us with the shared goals of power, and a combined
hatred of Peregryn and Scry.  They took our powers, and we want them back.
So we'll join your new Triumvirate, TerraStar, and let any who stand in our
way be turned to fine, powdered ash."

               *              *              *              *

[Monte Carlo, December 14, 2024]

     "I don't think that's the kind of protection your father intended," said
Marx, cuddling Ursula in bed.
     Ursula planted a kiss on his lips, then slipped from his arms and out of
bed.  "There are many things that my father does not approve of, yet still I
do."  She chose an embroidered housecoat and put it on, then tossed a digital
newsreader to Marx.  "I'll be out of the shower in a jiff."
     He caught it and scanned the article displayed prominently on the front.
It was an old story from Para Magazine by Robert Coulter, the one that told
about the Odin deception perpetrated by Rebus in New York City.  He sighed.
Lorenzo Archangeli was once like a son to him, but his insidious plots hurt a
lot of people, and Marx blamed himself for not seeing the signs of hatred in
his protege.
     He noticed a flashing red icon indicating that a new issue of Para was
ready for download on the lower left hand corner, so he tapped it.
     The lead story was a new article by Robert Coulter.
     Who had been recruited by the Conclave of Super-Villains. [Editor's
note: see CSV #22.]
     The article's topic was shocking.  But he had to read a few lines over
again, and it dawned on him that a bombshell of a secret had just detonated.
     He felt numb.
     It couldn't be true.  If it was true, then he had been played for a fool
again.
     Ursula had just finished her shower and was stepping out of the
bathroom.  Without warning, Marx threw the digital reader at her.  She caught
it deftly, and raised an eyebrow.  "What was that for?"
     "You're Tiara!" shouted Marx.  "Ursula, how could you?"
     Ursula read the display, nodded and sighed.  "I thought Derek might do
something like this to spite Father."
     "What are you really after?" asked Marx, as he threw on his pants.  "You
Conclavers aren't satisfied with extortion, and now you're trying to
manipulate me by making me fall for you?"  He slammed the dresser next to
him, hard.  "Princess, Tiara, whatever...I want the truth!"
     Ursula put the newsreader down.  "Devlin...my affections are genuine.  I
do not work for the CSV anymore, as Coulter wrote.  But yes, I do have
secrets that I haven't shared with you, but I was going to tell you, really I
was.  Promise me you'll hear me out."
     Marx grabbed his shirt.  "I can't trust you at all, Tiara."
     There was a banging at the door.  "Ursula!  What is the meaning of
this?!"  It was Maxim's voice.  "Open the door!  NOW!"
     Ursula pinched the bridge of her nose.  "Great," she whispered.  "Dev,
you better make yourself scarce.  But don't go until I've had a chance to
explain.  It's a matter of life or death.  Meet Auguste and he will bring you
to meet me, later."
     "One last time," agreed Marx.  It would be a good idea not to let Maxim
catch them half-naked.  He slipped out onto the balcony, hiding out of sight,
and eavesdropped.  He heard Ursula open her door.
     "What is it, Father?"
     "This!  Fifteen minutes ago, the world found out about you, and the
papparazzi are storming the palace to confirm it.  You bring shame to our
family name, Ursula."
     "Calm down, Father.  It's not the end of the world."
     "But it could mean the end of our family line.  Who would marry you now?
Who would give me grandchildren and a future heir to Monaco?  We must refute
the claims, call it a lie by Triton."
     "Who I marry is my business.  And you'll make things worse if you try to
issue a statement either confirming or denying the accusations.  By doing
neither, you keep the rumor mill going for a while.  What better way to
promote tourism than this?"
     "This has gone far enough.  It's bad enough that we are beholden to
Triton already...."
     "I know, Father.  We keep his children safe from the world, and this is
how he chooses to repay us.  Well, let's go down to the casino and give them
their photos.  That will keep them busy for a week or so."
     Marx heard the door close.  He looked down at the harbor from here.
Likely there were spycams trained on the palace now, and he hoped a picture
of him half-dressed won't appear on the 'net.  He re-entered the princess'
suite and threw on a shirt.
     What was that she said about Triton's children?  Marx hadn't heard about
Derek Radner having kids.  There was no reason for Ursula to let that secret
slip, save for his benefit.  Was she trying to tell him how much she trusted
him?
     He sighed.  Though he still felt betrayed, he'd let her have a chance to
spill all.

               *              *              *              *

[Berlin, December 15, 2024] 

     They met again in one of Light Errant's boltholes.
     Petra was skeptical about TerraStar's motives.  But the woman behind the
earth puppet seemed a lot more stable than Burnout had been, this past month.
     Burnout was hooked up to one of the devices she called "radio-strings",
a carry-over from her Mister Strings days.  While listening through the
headset, Burnout was also amusing herself by jabbing a pocket knife
repeatedly into table space between the fingers of her left hand.  She did it
fast and she did it blind.  It was either a credit to her skill that she did
not cut herself, or a further mark of her madness.
     Ever since Rejkjavik, Petra had been uneasy with the schizoid Burnout.
Though on the surface, the new Burnout was a red version of Cockatrice, that
particular personality only manifested herself a third of the time.  Petra
knew when Cockatrice was dominant: her voice was normal.  But the Tyra
persona sometimes hummed aloud, and when the two personalities were in
agreement, Petra had to endure their sing-song.
     Meanwhile, the homonculus had manifested again, and was instructing
Petra how to tap into the WorldMaze.  "The WorldMaze was made from the Berlin
Wall and all its fragments.  But you and Labyrinthe are both bound into its
essence, and that is why you were able to navigate it.  What I'm going to do
is to help you find that thread back into the maze, by boosting your affinity
to stone.  It's simply sympathetic magic.  The Wall was stone, and if you
become attuned to it, you will more easily control it."
     "Any idea where I might end up?"
     TerraStar's puppet shook its head.  "Remember, it is still you who must
master your power.  I can only put you on the right path, not walk it for
you.  Ready?"
     Petra nodded.  "I guess it was meant to be, with my name and all."
     "Then let us do it."  TerraStar's puppet collapsed back into a pile of
soil.
     Petra felt herself becoming smaller, but heavier.  It seemed like her
usual transition into light, only it made her heavy and not weightless.  She
had become a will-o-wisp that sank into the ground.
     But the darkness was soon cut by her light, and she could see the
tunnels of the WorldMaze.  While the ground was firm, the walls were not the
solid stone they had been before the Viaus got banished.  Instead, the walls
were vapor-like and infinitely high, and there were only stars above in the
narrow slit between them.
     She knew well enough not to wander into the mists.  Instead, she began
to explore.

               *              *              *              *

[Monte Carlo, December 15, 2024]

     Auguste Lamarche took Marx to the _Perfect Silhouette_ aboard a small
launch that afternoon.  "Do not worry, Monsieur Marx.  We've the technology
to conceal our approach."
     "Alien technology?" wonder Marx aloud.  His Anchor would normally
prevent supertech from operating, but off-planet technology still worked for
the likes of him.
     "Something like that," said Auguste with a smile.  "No one will see the
_Perfect Silhouette_ unless the princess wills it."
     They boarded the boat, and waited for a second launch.
     Ursula soon arrived with two cloaked figures.  One did not seem human
under the disguise, to Marx's trained eye. Marx wondered who they were.
Conclavers?  He hoped they weren't Spiral and Conflicto, or else someone was
going to swallow a lot of seawater.
     Ursula came up and planted a kiss on him.  He reluctantly accepted it.
"I'm still furious with you."
     "Don't be.  Let's talk privately below, away from prying eyes and ears."
     The four of them went below while Lamarche kept watch.
     "Is this about Triton's children?" Marx asked, once they were below deck.
     "Not exactly.  That's another can of worms.  There is something that I
do need your help with, but it wasn't something I could have simply blurted
out.  I had to know what kind of man you were, first.  But now, we don't have
the luxury of time."  She nodded at the two cloaked figures.
     The two mystery guests shed their disguises.  It was a young man that
Marx did not recognize, and the other was a horrific hybrid of woman and
beetle.
     Worse yet, she was visibly pregnant.
     "May I introduce Mr. Ross Hoekstra, a.k.a. Hooks, and you may know
Gimble, the fixer extraordinaire formerly of New York City."
     Gimble grimaced and fidgeted with a wrist device.
     Devlin Marx examined Gimble closely.  "So they're what you've been
hiding, Ursula?  Gimble, you've changed.  Your transformation into a beetle
was...perfect, excuse the term.  But now...?"  Marx gestured towards Gimble's
belly.  "I've seen this once before.  It's not very common, but an Anchor
fetus begins to assert its power over a transmog mother in the third
trimester.  This syndrome could be deadly, if the wrong internal organs are
changed at the wrong time, but with the help of a powerful Anchor, the
transition to full Anchoring could stabilize both mother and child.  Are you
in the third trimester?"  Marx did a quick mental calculation, and recalled
the Coulter article he read earlier, about Gimble's involvement in the Warden
affair back in June.
     An Anchor child, conceived in June.
     He had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.  "No."
     Gimble nodded her half-human, half-bug head slowly.  "I...I had to keep
it secret.  At the time, I could not resist his seductive power.  If he had
known about the pregnancy, he might not have shot me."
     Ursula put her hand on Gimble's wings.  "No need to justify what you
did.  We all make mistakes."
     "T'helldamn him," cursed Hooks.
     Devlin Marx shuddered.  So this was why Ursula sought him out?  To
assist with the safe delivery of his worst enemy's child?  He wanted to
scream at her, shake her and tell her she was crazy.  "Anchors do not usually
pass on the power to their children.  There is no Magene analog.  But the
Archangelis seem to pass on the ability to their offspring.  Do you know what
this could mean, Ursula?"
     "Yes.  The blood of an Archangeli breeds true," said Ursula.  "Devlin,
you are one of the few Anchors left who can ensure that Rebus's child
survives.  But will the sins of the father taint this one?"
     Marx shook his head.  "We can do our best to ward off darkness from the
child's heart, but this is insane!  There are those who would rather see the
termination of the Archangeli line by any means, after what Rebus has done."
Myself included, he hesitated to say.  But would he really resort to
infanticide?  It wasn't his style...or nature.
     And yet....
     "What if the child is to be the vessel of his reincarnation?  What if we
become responsible for the birth of a vengeful god, instead of an innocent
child?" he said, wiping his brow.  "How will we know?"
     "We can't," said Ursula.  "But a life is a life."
     "Even if that life chooses evil?" argued Devlin.
     "The child isn't even born yet!" said Ursula.  "The choice to do good
and evil cannot be given without life.  I say the risk is justified."
     Marx shook his head.  "I need to think about this."  No, he needed to
talk about it, and he knew who he had to see.  "I'm sorry, Ursula, Gimble...I
need some time to weigh the consequences."  He touched her on the shoulder,
then turned and went back on deck, intending to leave Lorenzo's heir behind
as soon as humanly possible.
     
               *              *              *              *

[Vatican City, December 16, 2024]

     Devlin Marx sat sipping tea with Pope Paul VII in the Stanza della
Segnatura, admiring Rafael's fresco, _the School of Athens_.  "It saddens me
that this may be the last time I will lay eyes on such beauty, Stagliano."
     "Hm?" The Pope seemed distracted to Marx.  "I'm sorry, Marx.  Sometime I
hear...."
     In a whisper, the Pope asked Marx, "Do you ever hear it?"
     "What?" asked Marx.  "The hymns?"
     The Pope shook his head.  "Never mind.  What can I do for you, old
friend?"
     "Conclave business, I'm afraid."
     "The Conclave is dead."
     "Hear me out first," begged Marx.  "There is something that I can only
discuss with you, in private.  A last conclave."
     "We are the last two of the Conclave, and these deaths have weighed
heavy on my heart.  Our methods failed, my friend.  We can no longer pretend
to control the evolution of paranormals in the world.  Look at what
Archangeli wrought: our destruction and his nearly successful attempt at
apotheosis.  The paranormals control us, not the other way around, Devlin.
But there are many other things to attend to, for me.  What will *you* do
now?"
     Marx leaned back.  "In the long run?  Review and rebuild.  Anchorites.
Conclave.  Each was a step to a bigger dream.  Despite our failures, we
*have* changed the world for the better...if only for a time.  Twenty-odd
years of manipulation is nothing to scoff at.  But if I've learned anything
in the last year, it is that we must change with the times.  But do not
abandon me just yet, Stagliano.  There is a new problem.  Pino's legacy does
not die with his son, but lives on in his grandchild, yet to be born."
     The teacup fell from the Pope's hand, and shattered against the mosaic
floor.
     "An heir?"
     "My reaction as well.  It put me in a dilemma.  If I do not raise a
hand, nature might claim the lives of both Gimble and her child.  Her
paranormal anatomy, coupled with the inconsistent Anchoring, leaves it a
gamble as to whether one or both would survive.  If I do take pity on them
and facilitate the transition, I risk the chance that an Archangeli might try
again to claim godhood.  But if I do nothing, will I have blood on my hands?"
     Stagliano went into a meditative pose.  "And you think that my religious
knowledge might help you decide?  But do you come to me for my Roman Catholic
tenets or my Egyptian ones?"
     Marx waved his hands dismissively.  "I am not here for confession.  But
I do need to go back to Ursula and let her know why I chose to help or not,
and I need to figure out what *I* believe.  What would you do in my case?"
     "As Pope, I would support the creed that a child's life is sacred once
conceived.  But would inaction be such a crime?  Would not God's will be done
if nature were allowed to take its course?"
     "But what of our Conclave mandate?" asked Marx.  "We did not kill in our
attempts to control the Fenris Wolves.  Instead, we tried to let them live
out their lives but nullified the evil temptations of power.  What monsters
would we be if we do not give an innocent child the same chance?"
     "It is a tough choice, my friend."  Stagliano sighed.  "Listen to your
inner voice, as I do.  Things become clearest then.  That is the best advice
I can give you."
     Marx nodded.  "I suppose you're right.  My conscience will guide me."
     "Where do you go now?"
     "Back to Monaco," said Marx.  "Time to give the princess an
explanation."  He stood, and switched to the secret ancient Egyptian dialect
used by the Conclave.  "May you spend millions of years gazing out at the
setting sun, Light-over-Egypt."
     "And you, Eye-of-Horus, God be between you and harm in all the empty
places where you must walk."

               *              *              *              *

[Berlin, December 16, 2024]

     Light Errant was still, well, errant.  The Cockatrice persona in Burnout
missed her.  At least Petra was more interesting to talk to than the dirt-
model.  TerraStar was still working on freeing her eyesight.  The first time
she gained her powers, it took months for her eyes to heal.  TerraStar warned
her that the process could be sped up to a matter of days, but she had to let
the element of fire catch up to the boost in her earth aspect.
     So she amused herself with her old puppets, listening to what they were
involved in.
     That was how she heard about Rebus's heir.
     Burnout removed her radio-strings headset, and smiled.  "You'll never
believe what I just heard from my favorite puppet," she said and hummed a
butchered rendition of the old Italian national anthem.
     "Who are these puppets of yours?" TerraStar's homonculus asked.      
     "When I was Mister Strings, I had some back-up plans for manipulating
those that were resilient to mental control.  Some of my puppets got their
hands on non-Anchorable technology, and I've been doing a little manipulation
here and there.  Though most of these radio-strung poppets were lost, there
are two or three still active, and Petra and I rescued this unit after our
narrow escape from Iceland.  This one is the current Pope," she tapped the
headset. 
     "Ah, a major religious figure on your world."
     "And a pagan one, to boot.  I've been messing with his mind as part of
our initiative to destroy the Anchor Conclave.  He has just had an
interesting conversation with Devlin Marx.  It appears our Tiara has been
holding on to Rebus's flame, Gimble, and his unborn child.  And that,
TerraStar, is not something we can tolerate."
     "So?  What do you intend to do about it?"
     "Sometimes, a well-placed whisper can change the world."
  
               *              *              *              *

[Monte Carlo, December 18, 2024]

     She would have a daughter, Gimble was certain.
     She knew she was carrying a child with a great burden and a potential
for destroying the world.  But she knew she would give her life to hold her
daughter in her arms, and see the child smile and know she was safe.
     She would be the mother she wished she'd had.
     Tiara and Gimble agreed that they had to meet with Coulter, and make a
little adjustment for him.  They planned out the ruse with utmost care that
afternoon.  Coulter arrived aboard _Perfect Silhouette_ to discuss Sultry and
Triton's wedding plans, and the princess greeted him while the others waited
below.
     "Thank you for accepting my invitation, Monsieur Coulter.  You have
caused me and my father no small amount of inconvenience with your last
article," they heard Ursula say above deck.  "You and Chancellor Radner
insinuated that I am the thief Tiara.  A libel suit, if I evever heard one."
     Gimble switched on a device that foiled any technological spying in the
vicinity.  While there was a chance that Glyph had planted a mystical bug on
Coulter that wouldn't be negated, they were willing to risk it.
     The princess and Coulter continued to talk on-deck.  Gimble and Hooks
made a few more preparations below deck, until they heard a thud.  Moments
later, Ursula carried an unconscious Coulter down to join them.
     "He's all yours, Gimble," said Ursula, nursing the edge of her right
hand.

     After the surgeries were complete, they awakened Coulter.
     "Hooks!  Gimble?  You are a surprise, Princess!" exclaimed Coulter.
"Who next, the Pope?"
     Ursula laughed.  "Time to bring you up to speed, Challenger.  Gimble has
been able to circumvent Triton's safeguards in you and install a few
surprises of our own, including a memory chip that will block out anything
you see here.  Don't worry; there is a command phrase that will restore these
memories when you are ready."
     She continued to tell Coulter about their plans.  "Gimble will remain
here, until the child is born."
     "It's a girl," said Gimble with certainty.
     "The girl, then.  Once she regains her powers, we will begin the
construction of Monaco defenses, which we'll need if Sultry persists in her
hatred of me.  We want to be ready with surprises of our own."
     Coulter nodded.  "And all you need is an Anchor.  Do you think Radner
knows about the Archangeli heir? Is that the real reason he's looking for
Gimble?"
     Ursula shrugged.  "I don't know.  The only people who know are us, Jessa
Dumont, Devlin Marx and Doctor Patricia DeBoer, Gimble's doctor at the Dumont
Clinic.  I stole all the files on Gimble right before we came here.  As long
as the others don't say anything, we we should be safe.  We thought that you
might know of some other Anchors who escaped the genocide, through your Para
contacts...."
    She was interrupted by a jolt, as though the yacht had been rammed by
another boat.  "Intruders!" she shouted.  The sound of fighting was heard
above, and Tiara rushed to the wet bar and uncovered a secret panel.  But
before she could engage the security countermeasures, the intruders had
forced their way into the yacht.
    Standing in front of them were Prince Maxim and Aegis, as well as three
of Maxim's security team.
    Coulter stood between Gimble and the Prince's men, and activated a
personal forcefield.  "What's going on?"
    "Ursula," said Maxim, pointing a dart gun at his own daughter.  "I cannot
allow this travesty to continue.  Men, arrest Mister Coulter and his friend.
Leave the bug for Aegis."
    "How did you find us?" asked Tiara.
    "Aegis borrowed the powers of a minor telepath we detained yesterday at
the baccarat tables."
    Cas Kiris-Ierulli, who was once known as Castor but now served as Aegis
in the Pope's Swiss Guard, stepped forward.  "I'm sorry, Your Highness, but
your father is right.  The Pope has sent me to inform your father of the
demon that you have been harboring, and to help him find and eliminate the
Beast.  We cannot allow the child of Rebus come into this world."
    "You'll have to get through us, first," shouted Coulter.  
    Aegis shook his head.  "I don't need to.  Have you forgotten what I can
do?  I am here to boost Gimble's paranormal power, enhance her transformation
into a beetle."
    "But that will kill her!" protested Tiara.
    "It will be enough to see what God has intended for them.  She may live,
or the child might.  It won't be in our hands."
    "Justificiation for murder, that's what it is."  Tiara fell to her knees.
"Please, Father.  Spare her.  She is an innocent."
    "And a collaborator and lover of one of the worst monsters ever to walk
this earth!" spat Maxim.  "You have brought this unto yourself, Ursula.  As
much as I love you, I cannot condone your sinful acts.  There is a line to be
drawn, and I draw it here.  Proceed, Aegis."
    Aegis raised his hands, and pointed at Gimble.  He began to take on
insectoid features, and Gimble screamed as her own body became more and more
beetle-like.
    "No!" shouted Hooks, and he leapt at Aegis.  Coulter tried to stop his
friend, but couldn't.
    The Prince's men fired their tasers at Hooks, and he fell to the ground,
twitching.
    "This is for your own good, Ursula," said Maxim, as he pulled the
trigger....

               *              *              *              *

[Berlin, December 20, 2024]

     A ball of light erupted from the floor and coalesced into Light Errant's
lithe figure.  TerraStar's homonculus watched with interest.
     Petra was waving a little Quebec flag.  "Bienvenue, mes amis.  Guess
what I found on the other side of the maze?"
     The flag caught fire and turned into a burst of ash.  Burnout smiled.
"You found Montreal."
     "And you've found your eyesight," remarked Light Errant.  "Things are
going well in the Triumvirate, I see."
     "Indeed," said TerraStar.  "I see we've each got special surprises for
Triton, come his wedding...."

               *              *              *              *

[Monaco, December 20, 2024]

     Tiara dodged her father's tranq dart, and leapt at Aegis.  She had to
incapacitate him before the power magnification was complete.  Aegis'
empowering effect had often killed through burnout, and she did not intend
for him to kill Gimble so easily.
     But even in his half-bug form, Aegis was fast and strong.  His one
compound eye caught the angle of her attack, and he dodged it.
     She had to try something else.  She kicked her father in the solar
plexus, knocking him out.  While the Prince's men were trying to decide
whether to help Maxim or fight their princess, Tiara pulled a pistol from one
of their holsters, and pistol-whipped one after the other.  After they fell,
she aimed the weapon at Aegis.  "I'd hate to kill you, but you could lose an
antennae or two.  You're not a murderer, Aegis."
     "An eye for an eye, Princess.  Rebus killed my brother.  I am only
following the Good Book."  Aegis continued to accelerate the change, and
Coulter looked on helplessly as he comforted Gimble, who was rolling on the
floor in pain.
     There was little time left.
     Ursula was about to pull the trigger, when a voice came from behind her.
     "Let's play fair and ditch the powers, shall we?"
     It was Devlin Marx, waving a crossbow in his hand.  He transfixed Aegis
with his gaze.  Aegis began to resume human form, and Gimble reverted to a
less-buglike form, falling unconscious.
     "Looks like I arrived just in time."
     Aegis was human now, and Tiara cracked a smile.  She picked up a taser,
stepped over Hooks, and unceremoniously fired it point-blank at a confused
Aegis.  Aegis keeled over from the shock.
     She turned to Marx, and embraced him.  After a long kiss, she broke away
and said, "You came back."
     Marx nodded.  "I'm surprised to see Aegis here.  Stagliano betrayed me,
I see.  I suppose I should have expected it."  He nodded at Coulter.  "I
realized something, when I visited the Pope.  Our duty to the world isn't to
control, as I have long thought it was.  Our duty is to teach right and wrong
through example.  If our heirs do not learn these lessons, then perhaps it is
our fault in not setting the best moral example.  If I decide that an unborn
child must die so that it cannot stray into evil, then I am no better than
the evil that I choose to fight.  But if I help bring the innocent life
safely into the world, then the child will have the choice, and the examples
that I set.  Thus, I choose to help Gimble and her child, and will strive to
teach the child to do good, not inherit evil."
    "And that is why I love you," said Tiara.

               *              *              *              *

EPILOGUE

[Nice, December 21, 2024]

     Coulter had been sent back to the CSV, with a passphrase locking in his
memories of what happened on the _Perfect Silhouette_.  Aegis was sent back
to Rome aboard a train, carefully sedated and watched over by Auguste
Lamarche.  Prince Maxim awakened in his suite at the Palace, and seemed
obsessed with his own reflection in the mirror.  Servants noted his strange
behavior and gossip soon spread throughout the palace.
     The yacht had sailed to Nice, where Marx and Tiara watched the sun set
out in the harbor.
     "There's a chance Stagliano will try again.  But I'll lead him on a
merry chase away from Monaco.  Let him think that I've taken Gimble and the
child under my wing. He shouldn't suspect that Gimble and Hooks are still
under your protection...and now that I've stabilized her condition, there
should be no further problems."
     "I'll take better security measures, this time," said Tiara. 
     "And your father?  Are you still worried over that?"
      She sighed.  "It had to be done, and Derek still owed me a favor.  he
didn't ask why, but I'm sure he's glad to be rid of my father.  I hate having
Zephirah lock him under a madness glyph, but I think it's time to claim my
inheritance and make Monaco my own.  First thing?  Re-evaluate Monaco's state
religion.  Catholicism irks me, at the moment."
     "Will you free him one day?"
     "Of course.  He is still my father.  But not until I have bore him a
grandchild, I think, and married who I want."
     "A child?" said Devlin.  
     "Biological clock's ticking, and I'm not getting any younger."  She
smiled.  "What will you be doing, then?"
     "Besides playing decoy?  Tackle Manhattan, I think.  Set up a new
casino, and work on setting an example for Gimble's child.  I think it's time
I stepped out from behind the shadows and do some good."  He hugged Tiara.
"Of course, I expect you to come and liven up the place once in a while?"
     "Bet on it."
     And the sun set, like daylight's anchor into twilight.
 
                                   THE END

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

Next Issue:

     Hey, there's still a wedding to plan!  Be here for CSV #25, or forever
hold your peace!

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

Author's Notes:

     When I was writing the wedding arc, I knew there was going to be a
problem reconciling what Coulter knew with what he could reveal to the
general public.  That meant that a lot of subplots that I needed to set up
for the arc would not appear in the 'Para' issues that he wrote.  This issue
is intended to fill in those blanks.
     As a side note, 2010 was the first year the Olympics got restarted after
the turn of the century troubles.  They decided to stick to every four years
after that, rather than resetting to the old sequence.  We may go into the
issue of the Olympics in more depth in future stories.