The neXt Generation

         In 2007, astronomers were at a loss to explain why Comet Holmes brightened by a factor of more than a million. In the course of a few hours it went from being so dim as to be invisible to all but the largest telescopes to being the third brightest star in the night sky. A few weeks after the initial brightening, the comet expanded to become the single largest diameter object in the solar system, largre even than our sun. Then, it faded.
         Comets are poorly understood by science. Ever since prehistoric times, they have been seen as omens, harbinger of doom, wanderers in the celestial sphere. But Comet Holmes, 17P/Holmes as it was known to astronomers of the day, was different. The brightening bombarded the Earth with theretofore unknown particles called tetryons. This cosmic radiation caused some people to change in ways no one thought possible. They became known as metahumans. They were capable of feats of strength, agility, and endurance beyond the ken of mortal man. Some people changed form altogether and were able to harness energies with the power of their minds and will. Some people developed psychic powers once thought to be the venue of charlatans.
         Metahumans saw 17P/Holmes as the catalyst for the next step in human evolution. Those who fear change saw it as a harbinger of doom.
         Many metahumans decided to use their powers for the betterment of all mankind, others for their own selfish purposes. Wars broke out, both ideological and destructive. The free countries of the world eventually came to accept the metahumans. Oppressive governments hunted them like animals. Some of these governments fell to their prey. Others successfully eradicated metahumans, or so they thought, for many metahumans are indistinguishable from normal humans to the naked eye.
         It has been decades since the changes 17P/Holmes visited upon the Earth. For many people, life continues much as it has in the past. Others are still involved in the titanic struggles between right and wrong, good and evil, heroes and villains.

Chapter 1 - Heroes

         John Thomopolous was many things, a historian, a single man of Greek descent, and he was a metahuman. His best friend, Marcus Weiler was a metahuman, too. But, to see the two of them tooling around downtown, you'd never know it.
         A man of average height, John actually looked short compared to Marcus. He wasn't as swarthy as many Greek-descendants. His dark hair was close cropped in a Ceasar-cut. Marcus on the other hand was a tall, athletic black man. His hair was also short and he always seemed to be smiling; he could be every body's best friend.
         Walking down the streets of downtown looking for a restaurant or a bar was something they tried to do at least once a week. John did it because he liked to meet new people. Marcus did it because he liked to pick up women. He fancied himself a ladies' man. John still wasn't sure if the ladies agreed with Marcus's assessment of himself.
         Marcus pointed at a sign across the street: Mike's Tavern. It was an unassuming name, and a place they were both familiar with. Normally, they attempted to try out new places, but tonight they needed some familiarity, plus, Mike was a good friend of theirs. They hurried across the street when no cars were coming and entered the bar.
         As their eyes adjusted to the dim light, they saw Mike waving them over from behind the bar. He shook their hands, "Hey guys, what's up?"
         "We should be asking you that, Mike," John said. He sat down and grabbed a few peanuts from the dish.
         "Yeah, we were going to go to the Kitten Klub tonight," Marcus added, sitting next to John.
         "The Kitten Klub?" Mike handed each of them a beer, "Why the hell would you two want to go there?"
         Marcus shrugged, "With a name like that, there should be tons of hot chicks I can score with there." He nudged John, jostling him just as he started to take a drink of his beer.
         John shook his head. Mike laughed. "You got the wrong idea about that place, Marcus."
         "What do you mean?"
         "It's a lesbian bar."
         John stifled a laugh. "I don't think even you could score there, John. You don't have the right parts."
         Marcus took a long drink of his beer and shrugged, "Oh well, just as well we came here instead, huh?
"Yeah, I'm glad you two came in," Mike said.
         Mike motioned they should wait for a minute as he served another customer. When he finished mixing a margarita, he leaned towards the two men.
         "I was out and about last night, and I saw something I thought you two would be interested in."
         John looked at Marcus. Mike regularly provided them with information regarding certain illicit activities in town; he used to be a police officer and had an eye for troublemakers. An injury in the line of duty ended his career; it's hard to chase down perps on a prosthetic leg. So, he opened a bar popular with law enforcement types and, by extension, metahuman heroes.
         "What would that be?" Marcus asked.
         "Well, at first I thought it was just a big dog. I mean, this thing was huge. But, then it stood up. Beastly, hairy, ugly bastard. I think it was a moreau."
         John leaned back and looked at Marcus. The smile was gone. Moreau were beast-men, genetically engineered monsters designed for destruction and mayhem. They were an unholy amalgamation of animal and human that lived to serve one man: Dr. Venom.
         "It was in Forest Park."
         "Dr. Venom is up to something." John said. Marcus nodded.
         "What was it doing?" Marcus asked.
         John shrugged, "I don't know. To be honest guys, I peddled away from that thing as fast as I could. With this bum leg of mine, I didn't think I'd be much good in a fight with it, besides I got a wife and kid to think about. I didn't think my sidearm would do much good, I mean, it looked like a freakin' bear when it stood up."
         "It's OK, Mike," John said, "We'll take care of it. Thanks for the information."
         "No problem, guys. Excuse me." Mike limped over to the far end of the bar to answer the calls of a patron who wanted more beer.
         Marcus grabbed his beer and headed for a corner table in a semi-secluded part of the bar. John followed. They sat down next to each other so they could both watch the rest of the room.
         "Well, so much for a relaxing evening," Marcus said, taking a swig of his beer.
         "No kidding, think we should tell Chris about this?" John asked. Chris was the founder of the XGA, the neXt Generation Academy, an organization for metahumans dedicated to the betterment and protection of mankind. Headquartered in Freedom Tower, the XGA was the primary group of metahuman superheroes for the entire Eastern Seaboard Megapolitan Area, or ESMA, as the newscasters liked to call it. ESMA stretched from Boston in the north all the way down the east coast of the United States to the Norfolk-Hampton Roads area in the south.
         Marcus thought for a minute. "I think we can handle it on our own, but I have to go to Freedom Tower before we head out to Forest Park anyway."
         "Me too," John chugged the rest of his beer. "Let's head out."
         The two friends got up and headed out of the bar. They were pretty far from Manhattan, but fortunately, mass transit had finally caught up with urban sprawl. The ESMA Bullet gave a high-speed underground linkage between all of the major areas.
         "It's times like this, I wish I could fly," Marcus said.
         John agreed with him. Many metahumans could fly, but John and Marcus were not among their numbers. If they were "in costume," as they saying goes, they could move about more freely, but since they were in civilian clothes, they had to be a little more discreet, especially since they were not aware of any imminent danger.
         The ESMA Bullet was basically an underground monorail, more akin to the bullet trains in Japan than the old New York subway. It was in continuous operation and allowed for rapid transit from one end of ESMA to the other, from Boston to Norfolk in three hours.
         The trip to Freedom Tower took no where near that long; within twenty minutes John and Marcus were ascending Freedom Tower to the headquarters of the XGA. They rode the elevator silently, the canned music filling the dead air. The XGA took up eleven floors of Freedom tower, from the 78th to the 88th. The main offices were on the 80th floor. When they stepped off on the 80th floor, they were greeted by Christopher Brandeux, the leader of the XGA.
         "Good evening, what brings you two here tonight?" Chris was redecorating the outer lobby with the help of one of the office girls, Chloe.
         "Got a tip about some moreaus," Marcus said, "Are our suits repaired yet?" Both Marcus's and John's costumes were heavily damaged earlier in the week during a particularly violent confrontation with a metahuman calling himself The Impaler. Since most metahumans healed more quickly than regular humans and the XGA utilized leading-edge regenerative technology, neither of them were seriously injured. The same could not be said for their costumes.
         "The Spartan's is," Chris said. When he was in costume, John became the Spartan, an armor-clad warrior defending the weak and bringing justice to wrongdoers. "We had to make a new suit for Captain Freedom, though."
         "Damn, I just had that one broke in," Marcus said.
         John gave him a playful shove, "That what you get for getting in the way of the Impaler's spikes."
         "Yeah, yeah. If I knew he ruined my suit, I would have busted him up more," Marcus said, heading back towards the staging area.
         "I'll be back there in a minute, Marcus," John said. He smiled at Chloe as she climbed up on a chair to hang some framed newspaper clippings.
         Chris handed her a hammer and a nail. "So where are these moreaus?"
         "Forest Park. We don't know what Dr. Venom is up to, but we're going to find out."
         Chloe held her hand out for another nail as she continued hanging frames. While Chris was the head of the XGA, everyone knew that day-to-day operations would grind to a halt without Chloe and her staff of office workers; even superheroes had paperwork at the end of the day.
         "Well, be careful. He's lain low for so long, that he's got to be up to something big for him to show his vile creations in this public a manner."
         "Well, it's just a rumor right now. Why don't you come with us? You don't get out enough."
         Chris blew a breath out, "Yeah, that'd be great, but I promised the girls I'd help redecorate. You know, I lost that office contest last month, so this is my penance."
         The office contest to which Chris referred was the latest in a long series of games that were played around the office during holidays, celebrations, and downtimes. They were usually organized by the office staff and the only heroes that participated were the ones who were actually in the office at the time. Chris usually participated in most of them since he was the public face of the XGA.
         "The Elemental, Interior Decorator," said John laughing. The Elemental was Chris's hero name. He was a metamorph who could harness, direct and assume the form of fire, air, water, or earth. The Elemental was known far and wide as one of the most powerful metahumans on the planet, and was renowned for his generosity and desire to co-exist peacefully with the humans.
         Chloe laughed, "Good one, John. I like that." John always liked Chloe. She was pretty, competent, and had a great personality for dealing with people. He especially appreciated the fact that she had consistently been able to rebuff Marcus while simultaneous deflating his massive ego with backhanded compliments. His particular favorite was her referencing his "meta-ego."
         "Thanks, I guess I'd better get going. It takes me longer to suit-up than Marcus, and I wouldn't want to keep Captain Freedom waiting, he's liable to leave without me."
         "Good luck," Chris and Chloe said in unison.
         John walked down the hallway towards the staging area. Freedom Tower was fairly deserted this time of night; though evil never slept, the human employees of the XGA had to at some point. When he arrived in the staging area, he saw Marcus nearly fully suited up as Captain Freedom. His blue, form-fitting suit showed the well-defined muscles in his chest. A row of white stars went down each leg. A red star in a white circle was in the center of his chest. His boots and his cape were red. A row of white stars lined the edges of his cape and the top of each boot featured a double white stripe around the top, dipping below another star. Finally, a black belt with a large buckle completed the ensemble. The buckle held what looked like a large, red gem. The gem was actually the tracking device the XGA used to keep tabs on Captain Freedom's location. It was a great boon when he found himself in over his head and needed assistance, particularly if he couldn't communicate directly with HQ.
         "It's about time you showed up," Captain Freedom said.
         "Yeah, yeah. Don't get your spandex in a knot," John said, poking fun at the fact that Captain Freedom's costume looked just like spandex, despite the fact it was a much superior material.
         John's costume was all laid out, ready for him to don. It was gleaming, gold hoplite armor, like that worn in Ancient Sparta, but with one important difference: it was state-of-the-art. Made from a virtually indestructible superalloy called tutosmium carbide, it could withstand punishment that would pulverize the human wearing it. But John was no human, he was a metahuman. And when he finished putting on the armor, he was the Spartan.
         Captain Freedom helped John put on his breastplate and greaves. From his waist hung a black, flexible, armored skirting that allowed him mobility and provided nearly as much protection as his breastplate. He pulled on his helmet, a heavy t-slitted protective device with a red crest running along the top. He hefted his shield. It was nearly four feet in diameter with black triangles along the edge pointing inwards towards a large, black lambda, the symbol of Lacedaemon; the home of the Spartan people.
         "Hey, you got a new crest," Captain Freedom said. "Swanky."
         The Spartan nodded, "Yeah, I got tired of the black one, and when it was ripped off by the Impaler, I figured this would be a good time to replace it. Gives me a splash of color, you know?"
         "Yeah, as if being clad in gold wasn't enough."
         They walked over to the rack of jet bikes, basically flying motorcycles. Air transportation had become more and more common over the years and finally become accessible to the average citizen near the beginning of the 21st century.
         The Spartan lifted his favorite jet bike off the rack with one hand and grabbed another one for Captain Freedom with his other. "This one OK?"
         "Yeah, you showoff," Captain Freedom said.
         "You know, it still doesn't seem right that we should use these things to get around."
         Captain Freedom mounted his bike, "You wanna run there? I'll race you. I'll bet we can get there by morning."
         "Bah, I'm faster than you, and you know it. The jet bikes are the only thing that lets you keep up with me."
         Gunning his engine, Captain Freedom said, "We're going to have that race one of these days." He hit the button that opened the bay doors. The skyline of New York glittered below them. He shot out of Freedom Tower and disappeared into the night sky.
         "Dammit," The Spartan said, "Today is not that day." Captain Freedom could be counted on to always help a friend in need, but he was also fiercely competitive, especially with The Spartan. Slinging his shield over his back, he mounted the jet bike, then eased his jet bike out of Freedom Tower and turned to the south before gunning his engine and shooting off into the night.

Chapter 2 - Heroes

         Sabrina pulled her coat around her as she walked past the warehouse. A howl from the docks lured her here; she normally didn't poke around the docks and warehouses. It was only chance that had her walking past the docks tonight.
         Her date ditched her at the Kitten Klub, which was just as well. Sabrina looked up at the moon. Another howl brought her back to the present. Looking down an alley, she debated whether or not she should further investigate; it was probably just a stray dog.
         As she stood there pondering, two men in dirty leather clothes approached her.
         "Say there, girly," one of them said. He had a thick Brooklyn accent, "It ain't safe to be wandering out here at night."
         His friend chuckled, "No, no, not safe at all. Why, you might run into some unsavory characters."
         Sabrina ignored them and tried to push past them, deciding to just go home. The taller of the two grabbed her arm.
         "Hey now, don't be rude. We're talking to you!"
         Shoving him away, Sabrina took a step back. Her eyes glowed like the embers of a smoldering fire. "Leave me alone," she said. "Don't make me want to hurt you," Sabrina inwardly cringed to hear that leave her lips, but in truth, she would like to fight these two. She was a metahuman with a very destructive power: fire control. She mostly viewed it as a curse, but took a kind of pleasuring in punishing deviants with it. It was cathartic.
         They leered at her, "Ooo, the girly's going to hurt us!" The shorter man lunged at her. Sabrina took to the air, fire trailing from her boots. The men were too drunk or stupid to realize what their up against, she realized. She threw a ball of fire at the street between them.
         The fire burst knocked them away, their jackets smoking. They howled and rolled around on the ground, trying to put a fire that was burning more in their minds than on their bodies. Sabrina took the opportunity to fly away from the docks and towards home.
         As she flew across New York harbor, she decided that dating was over-rated. She'd tried men and women, and no one could handle her caustic temper, not to mention they weren't quite sure what to make of her jet black skin, flaming red hair, and ember eyes. She'd probably only end up hurting anyone she fell in love with anyway...unless they were fireproof.

         Forest Park was only thirteen miles from Freedom Tower, so it didn't take long for The Spartan to catch up to Captain Freedom. As they flew over Queens, they discussed their plan.
         "Where should we start? The golf course or the oak forest?" the Spartan shouted over the roar of their engines. He banked his bike around to approach the park from the southwest.
         "Forest. If I was one of those freaky moreaus, I wouldn't be some where as open as a golf course," Captain Freedom said.
         "Right." They descended rapidly, slowing their bikes as they lost altitude to keep the noise level down. It was likely the noise from them arriving on jet bikes probably alerted the moreaus to their presence, but then again, moreaus weren't known for their keen intelligence.
         They noticed a few cars and motorcycles in the parking lot near the amphitheater. They maneuvered their bikes into a spot and parked them.
         "You know, we have got to come up with something better than this," Captain Freedom said as he secured his bike.
         "No kidding, this is decidedly unglamorous, but it beats walking." The Spartan secured his bike. "Besides, it connects us more with the mundanes." Mundanes is what most metahumans referred to humans as, though usually only when they were in costume.
         "Whatever," Captain Freedom said. "Let's head out."
         They took off jogging along Forest Park Drive, heading in a northeasterly direction towards the most heavily forested area of Forest Park. Despite the presence of cars in the parking lot, the park seemed deserted. Trees muffled the sounds of the city and they blended with the sounds of the crickets and owls to form a nocturnal cacophony. The canopy of trees blocked out most of the light from the city and the sky, making the forest even that more foreboding. When they crossed Myrtle Avenue, they slowed their pace and headed towards one of the trails.
         The walked the trails in silence for twenty minutes straining with their ears to hear anything that sounded out of place in a city park. With over two square kilometers of park to cover, they knew they were in for a long night, and the thought that Mike's tip might not have been 100% reliable gnawed at the back of their minds.
         Captain Freedom held up his hand and motioned for The Spartan to stop. The Spartan heard it: someone was coming down the path. He ducked into the woods, cringing as branches snapped. Captain Freedom likewise moved off the path, though with less noise as he was not covered in heavy metallic armor.
         A voice called out of the darkness, "Is...is...someone there?" The voice was male, and quivered in fear. The Spartan rolled his eyes. A light popped on from ahead, blinding him. He stepped out from the brush and waved Captain Freedom over.
         "Nothing to worry about, kid," The Spartan said. "Could you lower the light, please?"
         The light lowered and The Spartan saw that it was a teenager, maybe sixteen years old wearing dirty jeans and a t-shirt carrying a clipboard.
         "Holy Crap!" the kid said, "You're...you're The Spartan!"
         "Yeah, and I'm Captain Freedom," Captain Freedom said. "What's a kid your age doing out here this late?"
         "Wow, I never thought I'd get to meet two metas face-to-face like this! The guys are never going to believe this." He fumbled with his clipboard, dropping his pen to the ground. The Spartan reached down and grabbed the pen.
         "Yes, I'm The Spartan, who are you and I believe Captain Freedom asked you a question?"
         "Oh, umm, sorry, sirs. My name is Tommy Fletcher. I'm just here on a school project," the kid said. He took the pen back as The Spartan held it out to him.
         Captain Freedom glanced at The Spartan. "A school project? What the hell kind of school gives you homework requiring you to stay in deserted parks in the middle of the night?"
         "I'm doing a report on owls. I thought I could get some first-hand observational data," Tommy said. He flipped a few pages on his clipboard and held it and the pen out to Captain Freedom. "Can...can I get yous guys's autographs? No one will ever believe I ran into you out here."
         The Spartan chuckled and took the pen and clipboard. He caught himself before he signed "John Thomopolous;" no matter how many autographs he signed, he would never get used to it.
         As Captain Freedom signed his name Tommy said, "Hey...if you guys are out here, something's going on. Is there a bad guy here or something? The treeman. It's the treeman, isn't it? He's going to rampage through the city!" Tommy's voice got higher and more shrill.
         The Spartan shook his head, "No, nothing like that. We're doing some investigating ourselves."
         "The Treeman? You watch too much television, kid," Captain Freedom said. "He fled out west to Washington state. Said we were hard on his photosynthesis. He's the west coast guy's problem now."
         "Photosynthesis," the Spartan said, laughing, "that guy was nuts."
         Tommy chuckled nervously, "Yeah, nuts. So what are you guys looking for?"
         Captain Freedom looked over at The Spartan, "It's nothing you need to worry about, Tommy. Unless you've heard or seen any werewolves lately?"
         "Werewolves? Those don't exist...do they?" Tommy started to sweat profusely.
         The Spartan laughed, "No, they're just stories, Tommy. You'd better get on home; it's getting late."
         "Yes, sir, Mr. Spartan," Tommy saluted the two and headed down the path towards the parking lot.
         "Werewolves?" The Spartan looked at Captain Freedom.
         "Well, he sure as hell wouldn't have known what a moreau was, Mr. The Spartan."
         "Good point." The Spartan looked around and proceeded to walk down the path they were on. After a short while of walking in the darkness, the path forked. Captain Freedom indicated he would take the left fork, while The Spartan took the right fork.
         As he walked deeper into the forest, The Spartan became more aware of the sounds of the forest. Captain Freedom may not have been clad in golden armor, but he wasn't the stealthiest man in the world.
         The Spartan picked his way along the path, avoiding branches and twigs and straining to listen as he searched with his eyes for any movement. He cursed himself for his lack of foresight in bringing any sort of night-vision equipment; he possessed enhanced senses, but he still needed light to see.
         As he was berating himself for being an impulsive idiot, his foot snagged on a protruding root. The Spartan crashed to the ground, the wind rushing out of his lungs. He lay there panting for breath, conscious of a sharp pain in his gut. He pushed himself onto his knees and looked down. A rock was right under where his stomach was. The irony of The Spartan being winded by a rock amusing him, and he caught himself chuckling. It was then that he saw it: two pinpoints of red light, unwavering in the darkness before him.
         Slowly, The Spartan maneuvered himself into a crouch, ready for whatever would happen next. Nothing. The eyes just watched. From his vantage near the ground, he was looking up into them and as they stood there watching each other, he began to make out the outline of something vaguely humanoid and furry. He could hear its breathing, heavy and ragged.
         The Spartan could feel the tension in his back and knees. He slowly began to stand up. The shape before him took a step back and he sensed that it was tensing up. As he pulled himself up to his full height, The Spartan could tell the creature was about the same size as a normal man. He wondered what sort of creatures it was before Dr. Venom performed his unspeakable experiments on it. Was a human mixed with a dog? Human mixed with ape? Those were the most common combinations Dr. Venom liked to toy with. Perhaps this was something new.
         Tightening his grip on his shield, The Spartan shifted his weight. The creature sprang at him. Raising his shield to intercept the charge, he buckled under the creature's weight as it clung to the edges of his shield, hissing and clawing. Its hot breath stank of decayed meat.
         Shoving with all his might, he pushed the creature away and prepared for another assault. It stood in front of him, hissing and spitting. The Spartan noticed the creature wasn't furry at all; it was covered in feathers. He could glimpse slavering fangs inside its maw.
         It charged again, taking a swipe at The Spartan with its talons. He blocked with his shield and countered with a punch square in the creature's face. He felt bone crunch with the force of the blow.
         Staggering backwards, it screeched in agony. The Spartan wasted no time; he leapt forward, bashing it with his shield, sending it flying into a nearby tree. Leaping forward again, he lashed out with his foot, hoping to kick the beast in the chest.
         It dove under his legs. He kicked the tree, splintering it with a loud crack. Spinning around, he intercepted another charge with his shield. The creature was fast, he thought, faster than a human would be, which made sense considering Dr. Venom typically engineered his creatures to combine the best and more fearsome features of two or more creatures.
         The Spartan lifted his shield over his head and flipped the creature over his head. It grabbed onto a low-lying branch and hung there for a minute. He heard a sharp intake of breath and the thing spit at him. Raising his shield just in time, he was thankful for its nigh-indestructable nature; he could hear and smell the spittle burning the surface of his shield. It annoyed him that he would have to have it refinished again so soon. The distraction was enough for the creature to leap at him again.
         This time, The Spartan spun out of the way. As the creature pass, he kick at it again, connecting with its back with a resounding snapping noise. The creature crashed into a tree and fell to the ground.
         It lay there twitching, its back broken by The Spartan's mighty kick. As he approached it, it hissed feebly in between wheezing breaths. As the sound of blood rushing through his ears quieted down, The Spartan could hear someone running up the path. He reached down and grabbed the creature's head. Its face was a mess of bloody feathers and pulp from where he'd punched it; he probably crushed every bone in its face. He twisted the neck sharply until a cracking sound told him that he'd broken its neck.
         The creature stopped moving. It lay there, dead, as Captain Freedom came running around the bend. The Spartan stood and looked at him.
         "Crap, I'm too late."
         The Spartan nodded.
         "Holy shit, is that the moreau?" Captain Freedom crouched down near the creature's body.
         "I guess so. It attacked me. It was fast, strong, and had some sort of acidic spittle." He looked at his shield. The paint was bubbled and peeling where the spit had hit the shield. The finished underneath was blackened and looked slightly corroded, though it was difficult to tell in the dark.
         "So now he's crossing avians with people?"
         "Looks like. Something else, too. I've never heard of a bird with acidic spit." The Spartan crouched down next to Captain Freedom. "Maybe he's trying three or four things spliced together."
         "Did it say anything?"
         The Spartan shook his head, "Nothing. It just hissed and attacked. It really sounded more like a reptile than a bird, but the feathers..."
         "I wonder if it could fly?"
         "It didn't try to during the fight. I think we should get it back to the lab. Maybe the doc can do an autopsy."
         Captain Freedom nodded. "Oh yeah, she'll love this. You wanna drag it back to the bikes, or stay here with it while I call HQ?"
         "I'll carry it to the bikes. You go on ahead."
         "Right," Captain Freedom said. He headed back down the path as The Spartan slung his shield over his back. Picking up the creature, he was surprised at how light it was for the amount of power it seemed to have. It was so light, it was like carrying a child. He trotted down the path carrying the thing towards the parking lot. He hoped he didn't trip over any roots this time.
         When he got back to the jet bikes, Captain Freedom was waiting for him. They secured the creature to the back of The Spartan's bike as best they could. As he mounted his bike, The Spartan turned to Captain Freedom.
         "So, what did they say?"
         Captain Freedom got on his jet bike. "Doc Hardy couldn't be reached, so we're just going to take it back and put it in the morgue."
         "She probably turned her phone off," The Spartan said. "I know I wouldn't like it if a couple of metas called me in the middle of the night wanting me to autopsy some freak of nature."
         "No, it rang. A lot. She just wasn't answering."
         The Spartan was surprised. That didn't seem like Dr. Hardy. She always answered when he called.
         Captain Freedom chuckled, "Maybe she was getting a little something something and didn't want to be disturbed."
         The Spartan rolled his eyes, "Yeah, well, let's get this thing back to HQ before it starts stinking up the city." They started their bikes and took off into the sky, flying through the night to Freedom Tower.