Charles Westinghouse III, a man of the mind, looked into the eyes of the frightened scientist that stood across the desk from him. He looked into the man’s varied thoughts and fears as they ran across the cortex of the aged scientist’s brain like scared lab mice. The old man was terrified of the younger one.

Charles’ aura dominated the room as he sat in Dr. Meyer’s leather chair with his fingers steepled beneath his lips. “Come on, Doctor. These are strange times we live in. Living gods once ruled the world and mankind’s mind is ever evolving. We know that now. You research has been invaluable.”

“Yes, Mr. Westinghouse. And, soon, we will enter a new age of heroes and gods because the wheel of fate has turned and that damned alien gene is expressing itself in more and of our young people’s DNA. A single protein can unleash powers hidden for ages in the human genome. In a few generations, those people will be like the pantheons of ancient times, and mortal man will serve them. But, you are not interested in the seeds of the Nephi. You are a mind reader. What do you want with me?”

“I want to be your partner. I need Congress to write me a nice fat check for aiding with the study of the Nephilium gene and its possible link to psionic potential. Congress has been loathe to fund parapsychology and the softer sciences ever since the collapse of Project Stargate.”

“My research shows no such link, and you’ve always denied one. You and your hippies search for a mental path to ascension. I deal only in the physical.”

“Yes, I know. But, you, sir, have the clout to sell the idea to the funders. Work with me or I’ll expose your other work: your work during World War Two for the Third Reich.”

“That’s Blackmail.”

“It is. But, the future of the human race is at hand. There are no rules.” The figure of Charles Westinghouse glowed brightly before vanishing entirely.

Dr. Meyer steadied himself against the desk. If the most powerful mind on the planet wanted his “help” then he would have to give it. He’d back the Prince of the New Age for fear of exposure.

He called to his assistant. “Macreedy! Bring me a cup of coffee. I have a new presentation to prepare.” He couldn’t bring himself to sit in the chair vacated by that man, so he sat on the desk itself. He was still shaking.

* * *

Jeanine Witmeyer was on her way to take Heather Stevens to a school function, namely a football game at a high school across town. Neither of them was thrilled to be going, but it had been decreed from on high in both families that the girls get out and do something wholesome. Heather studied too much and Jeanine studied art when she felt like it.

They were friends only by family connections. Jeanine regarded Heather as a bit of a prep and a priss while Heather was put off by Jeanine’s hardcore punk attitude.

Jeanine was blaring her punk rock music through the BMW’s superior sound system when she pulled into the Steven’s driveway.

She turned the music down a few notches as Heather got into the passenger side of the car. “Hey, kid, looks like our families want to get rid of us for the evening.”

Heather thought they made an unusual pair. Jeanine was an olive skinned girl with a hawkish nose. She dressed in a pure punk style even though she came from an old money family. Her jeans were ripped, her leather jacket was bedecked with chains, and a knife hilt was visible just above the top of her sixteen hole Doc Martens. Jeanine kept the right side of her head shaved into thin lines while she let the hair on the left fall over her eye. Today’s color was black with a hint of red at the tips. Jeanine was nineteen and blessed with superhuman strength and the ability to alter colors.

Heather, on the other hand, was a honey blonde with extremely pleasant features. Heather dressed in her school uniform and a long coat to ward off the fall chill. She was two years Jeanine’s junior.

Heather knew Jeanine’s knife was just for show. The girl was far too strong to use such a fragile weapon. Jeanine was nearly as strong as a mountain gorilla. Unlike Heather’s magickal abilities, Jeanine’s powers were common knowledge to all who knew her.

Jeanine drove them to the stadium with her typical manic pace, and parked in a spot well away from the other cars. She also noted a gang of cyclists on racing bikes cruising the parking lot and messing with people. Jeanine hoped they had enough sense not to cause her trouble. Heather was unsure what to think of them.

The girls bought their tickets and headed for the concession area before heading to the stands. Laden with their hotdogs and drinks the pair headed for the good seats. That’s when Heather noticed something was wrong.

"Oh, dear . . . I think we're in trouble. Aren't these guys the toughs we saw in the parking lot?" Heather said, looking past Jeanine.

     Jeanine turned to see what she was talking about. Four guys and two girls, all dressed in leathers were coming up behind them. These reprobates were all teens. The oldest of the bunch may have been seventeen, but only barely. Two of the guys had long hair and another guy sported a bright green mohawk. One of the girls had severely spiked hair with orange tips. The guy in front wore a black beret with a Sex Pistols pin on the side. Chrome skull earrings, cut off gloves, and scuffed combat boots seemed to be standard among all of them. Jeanine and Heather were definitely the subjects of their unfriendly attention

     "Talk to them Jeanine. They're your kind of people."

     "Great, now I'm an ethnic group. I think they want trouble. Stay cool," whispered Jeanine. She kept an eye on the guys in the back.

     Jeanine pushed Heather behind her with her arm and took a step forward. She hoped she was giving off a presence of calm self-assurance mixed with a no-nonsense attitude. She could never be sure about such things, though, until after she saw the results. "Hey! You punks got a problem?"

     "Yeah. You own that black Beamer? With the dent in it?" said a young blonde who moved forward to meet the two girls. The blonde wore a Suicidal Tendencies cap.

     "Dent!" wailed Jeanine in shock.

     "Yeah, poser, seems you parked where our leader wanted to park, so we moved your car. Hope you don't mind." the guy in the beret sneered.

     "Just hope you guys have insurance. That's all I have to say." said Jeanine.

     "Insurance, yeah right. Hope ya don't mind. Oh, so sorry! She looks pissed, guys." Bright Green laughed. His voice was gritty and hoarse.

     Jeanine said "Then let's have a little talk with this leader. I'll give him some driving lessons." She ground her fist into her palm in anticipation.

     "Oh, okay. He'll like that. He likes trashy chicks. C'mon.' With that said the beret guy waved Jeanine forward with a sweeping bow.

     "Heather, c'mon. Watch out. If they try anything from behind use your fancy martial arts stuff on 'em." whispered Jeanine.

     "But. . ." started Heather.

     "I said c'mon. Hurry."

     The two girls headed back out with the gang. Heather hoped her martial arts she practiced in the dojo would translate in a street fight.

Jeanine's BMW lay flipped over its top on the grass. A black '89 Camero with tinted windows was parked in its place. Several cycles were parked nearby. They were mainly those high-tech racing bikes, but a couple looked like cheap dirt bikes made street legal.

     As she neared the Camero, Jeanine saw that there were two people sitting in the car; both of its doors were open and loud tunes from Suicidal Tendencies could be heard clearly, even over the stadium noise. Beret led her up to the person at the passenger-side door. The guy was enormous and he was sitting half turned toward her. He had one huge black Reebok on the pavement and the other in the car. His skin was pale and sweaty and his eyes were coal behind his circle wire frame glasses. He had no hair. He held a top hat in his lap between leathery hands. He had a barrel chest and a thick neck. His square jaw supported a massive chin. All in all Jeanine thought he looked like a shaved gorilla.

     Bright Green and the girl with orange spiked hair crowded around Heather while Beret and a long haired guy closed in on Jeanine. Blondie and the second long haired guy perched themselves on the back of the Camero.

     Jeanine looked at Naked Gorilla. "So you are Mister Big, huh? Well, I want to file a complaint." Heather felt rather useless in this situation. She would have to bide her time to see how this all turned out.

      "I'm Corey Blackmon. My friends call me Corey, Mr. Corey. My, ah, less familiar acquaintances call me The Coroner. I rule here and you will show me the proper respect. These people are my posse, my people. All that I wish is what is mine. And, this is my space. You were in it."

     "So you moved my car," Jeanine pointed to the overturned BMW “from your space. Uh huh. Only one thing to do, Corny, for sure." Jeanine kicked the rear tire so hard the tire popped. Then she laid both her hands on the car and it's color changed from black to copper. "And that last trick goes through to the metal," she said triumphantly. She dusted her hands and smiled.

     "Fine. I'll keep your car for that!" Corey said.

     "Fine. Hell! I'll. . ." Jeanine fumed.

     Bright Green quickly moved away from Heather. His right hand going behind his back quickly, he brought himself in line behind Jeanine. He produced the revolver he had stuck in the back of his pants. It was a snub-nosed .38 special.

     Heather screamed "Jeanine!" but Bright Green shot Jeanine in the back before she could act. Orange Spike grabbed Heather by the arm. Heather stomped on the girl's foot then did a side-kick to her knee and the girl when down. Heather ran.

Heather saw Jeanine's back arch forward slightly. She had been caught by surprise but Jeanine recovered quickly. Heather knew Jeanine’s skin could resist most small arms fire.

     Jeanine blinked twice and snarled, "This was a new jacket you asshole." She quickly turned and covered the short distance between them. Grabbing Bright's collar, she shouted "Service!" as she delivered a low aimed upper cut that connected with Bright's pubic bone. Bright gave a squeal as he was lofted six feet in the air. He dropped his gun when he landed. He didn't get up, but lay moaning on the pavement. The gang froze.

     "Idiot! He brought a gun to a fist fight. Any more idiots out there?" Jeanine queried. After she was satisfied that the punks were going to play nice she returned her attention to The Coroner. "There's one for yah. Want more business, Corny?"

     "Damn, she's an Aryan!" observed Beret quietly.

     "The polite term is genetically advantaged. Call me that 'A' word again and I'll make you walk funny too," Jeanine said. “Stay put Heather.”

     Heather stayed put for about two seconds then headed for the crowd that was gathering to watch the fight. She knew she had to give Jeanine room to maneuver, and she needed time to ready her magick. Heather thanked God that a strong leyline ran down the middle of the parking lot. Heather watched Jeanine and the gang carefully from the sidelines.

"So we have a truce or what, Core?" Jeanine's gaze pierced right through Corey. "Well, do we?"

     Silence. The boss was thinking.

     Jeanine hurried the process by adding, "One of your guys pulled a gun and shot me, you messed with my car. I can be nice and call it even or I'll get my satisfaction. Which will it be?"

"Go on Mister Corey," said the blonde, "Serves yah right for picking fights with girls. Beat her up yourself.”

     "Go on tough guy, you're the leader. Hurry or the cops'll come." said Orange Spike who was limping over to the car. "And you, Gary. You said these rich girls would be easy pickings. You're a dork!" This message was directed toward Beret and was punctuated with a slap to his face.

"That's it big guy! Looks like you lost their respect. You and me. Now," Jeanine said.

The gang continued to egg their leader to fight.

Heather was worried that Jeanine was picking a fight she couldn’t win when something unusual happened.

     Corey got out of the car which rose about an inch on it’s shocks. He was easily 6'5" but his knuckles came nowhere near to dragging the ground. "Hold it. My friends are idiots but I have a worthy opponent for you. Trish! Come out and meet your playmate!"

     "Great! A ringer. Okay. Let's play," Jeanine said.

     Heather watched as the ringer got out of the driver's side of the car. She was short and dressed all in black. Her black hair was gelled to stand up all over at various angles. Her denim pants were bloused in her high leather boots. Silver wraparound shades hid her eyes. She wore a long black trench coat covered with buttons for various industrial bands. She looked like she was barely fifteen.

     "Gee, Corey. Thanks for using my name you dweeb," she said. "Now that I can remember it myself I have to up and change it again. Christ!" Turning to Jeanine she continued, "You want play huh? I'm Weaver. I'm a ronin. You have to beat me to get to him-- he pays me to say that. I used to fight for free but I got smart."

     "Kinda young for a ronin aren't you?"

     "Now, choose your destruction!" Weaver said and she struck a pose.

     "Gee, I always wanted to die from a combination of drug overdose and exhaustion when I was in bed with all of Megadeath." replied Jeanine.

     "Yuk! Choose again," Weaver grimaced.

     "Cycles at ten paces."

     "Now you're talking. Choose your weapon." Weaver pushed back her coat sleeves and cracked her knuckles. She pulled on a pair of fingerless gloves. Jeanine selected a dirtbike because it was light while Weaver hefted a racing bike to judge it's balance.

     "Hey, that's my bike!" shouted both Beret and Long Hair Number Two.

     The crowd was growing even larger as Jeanine and Weaver squared off 10 yards apart. Some in the crowd were asking "What are the sides?" while others tried to give odds. "Wow, this is better than Gladiatorial Bimbo's from Hell" commented someone else. "Shouldn't the police break this up? There's going to be a riot!" complained one girl.

     "Go! And, fight to the end!" shouted Corey.

     Heather tensed as Jeanine gripped the bike by its front fork and spun like a hammer thrower. When Jeanine let go the cycle flew from her hand toward Weaver like a guided missile; however she had misjudged the angle and the cycle hit the ground too soon. It spun across the ground kicking up debris. Weaver halted the cycle with her foot.

     "That sucked. Try again." Picking up the cycle with one hand she slid it back to Jeanine. Sparks flew. Heather was more worried than ever when she saw Jeanine's eyes widen in awe.

     "Maybe we should move closer," Jeanine suggested.

     "You weak or something?"

     "That girl, she's so strong!" commented a guy in the crowd.

     "On with it! Destroy her!" Corey bellowed.

     "Just let me have my fun. You still owe me money." said Weaver. "Just ignore him, chick. He's too intense about these things."

     This time Jeanine gripped the bike by its frame like it was a pugil stick. Squaring off again with Weaver she slowly closed the distance while watching her opponent. Weaver grinned a nasty grin and waited for Jeanine to close.

     The guy in the crowd asked a nearby girl "So, who are those two?"

     "I dunno." said Heather.

     "Who's the big guy then?"

     "I dunno. Some local jerk." Heather tried to ignore him. He was just a kid.

"Great. This story will make the front page of the school paper. This is great." The guy fumbled with his camera and started taking pictures.

     "Who are you?" Heather asked.

     "I'm Billy LeRoux, Freshman Reporter for New Press. This is the first time anything's happened around here. And, I've got the scoop. It's my first story!" The boy was swollen with pride and trembling with excitement. His eyes shone with story intoxication-- an addictive state which is the leading cause of death among investigative journalists. "I gotta go talk to these guys."

     "You are nuts," Heather declared. "These guys are dangerous. You'll be killed!"

     "But the story! My headline!"

     "Will read: 'Dumb Little Runt of a Reporter Is Used To Mop Up Pavement After Game.' Now stay put!" Heather grabbed him by the elbow.

     "Hey! Alright already."

     "This game is dumb enough without your help," said Heather.

     "Well. C'mon. Don't just stand there! Fight me!" Jeanine shouted. She was only a few steps from Weaver when Weaver raised her cycle over her head and swung it like an axe-- with the force of a pile driver. Jeanine blocked with her cycle and was pushed backward from the force the blow. There were grooves left in the asphalt by Jeanine's boots. The frame of Jeanine's bike crumpled with the blow and its gas tank ruptured. Weaver's cycle lost it's front fork and the tire rolled into the crowd.

     Weaver rammed the cycle into Jeanine again. Jeanine was sent rolling for several yards. Standing up immediately she rushed Weaver. She was spitting blood by the time she got to the girl. All the public saw was a blur of arms.

     After discarding her cycle Weaver welcomed Jeanine with open arms. She easily took Jeanine's kicks and punches. Jeanine was only tiring herself out.

     Weaver made a grab for Jeanine, but only caught another barrage of fists. Weaver counter-punched and put Jeanine on her butt again. Weaver stifled a yawn.

     Heather concentrated on a way out of this mess. It seemed to her the big guy was the key to it all. If she could make him see reason then maybe Weaver would back out of the fight. Heather knew Jeanine was in over her head in this fight, and Jeanine was too stubborn to back down. She strode over to Corey and demanded he end this. His people didn’t seem to care that she was coming right up to him. He laughed her off as she knew he would. She gathered her mana for a spell to knock him out. When she lightly reached out and touched him he fell like a ton of bricks.

     The others gaped in amazement. “What did you do?”

     “Want me to do it again?” They backed away from her.

     Heather turned her attention back to the other fight. A low growl came from Jeanine as she grimaced with pain. She and Weaver had locked hands in a wrestling match. Jeanine had turned Weaver's skin a bright blue from head to toe. Weaver twisted Jeanine's left hand in a way it didn't bend and squeezed hard in retaliation. "Turn me back slut!" Weaver shouted. Heather heard the sound of bones cracking. Jeanine put all her effort into kneeing Weaver in a spot near the lower nerve plexus as hard as she could. Her third try found the nerve nexus and Weaver let go.

     Heather shouted "I got the big guy! Are you almost finished?"

     Jeanine yelled back "Funny. I'm getting my ass kicked. You gonna watch or help me out?"  Jeanine took a side stance and blocked Weaver's attacks.

Weaver looked at her fallen boss for an instant.

     Taking advantage of Weaver's distraction Jeanine moved to pound on her with her good fist. She pulled her fist back and threw it forward with everything she had left. The punch had energy and will and hope driving it forward. "Nighty nite bunny rabbit!" Jeanine announced as the punch landed on Weaver's neck.

     Weaver wobbled from the blow but managed to catch Jeanine with a wild backhand. Jeanine was down again.

Heather rushed out to help Jeanine. She let loose with a sweep kick that took Weaver off of her feet and smashed her mirror shades with an elbow to the nose. It was like punching steel.

     The crowd cheered.

     Weaver cursed and groaned but rose quickly to her feet. She looked angry and she was breathing hard. Weaver growled "Come on. Come on. Both of you. My case worker always said I needed group therapy!"

     Jeanine tried to tackle Weaver, but the girl jumped high into the air to avoid the move. Jeanine got a face full of asphalt for her trouble.

Heather decided that her speed would be her advantage. She turned several flips to close with Weaver again. Squaring off in a closed stance, Heather looked Weaver over. Aside from Weaver's now blue skin, she looked perfectly normal. She was about the same height and build as Heather with good speed and enormous strength. Taking down Weaver would be impossible Heather thought. She could only distract the girl.

     Heather shifted her weight to her toes and started a series of setups. She feinted at Weaver's back with a battery of offensive spin kicks but Weaver blocked the real punch. Heather dodged Weaver's wild swings and then leapfrogged Weaver when she rushed her like a mad bull.

     "Acrobatics, huh?" asked Weaver unimpressed.

     Heather dropped and answered her with another sweep kick. Weaver jumped the kick and landed behind Heather. Weaver's overhead two-handed smash passed through empty air as Heather rolled right.

     As Heather got up Weaver tried to grab her again. Heather back stepped but Weaver managed to grab her coat. It came free in Weaver's hand.

     There was no time for Heather to take time out. The fight had to go on.

     Jeanine’s boot found Weaver’s face in a daring kick. The boggled look on Weaver's face told Jeanine that she had won.

     Weaver crumpled to the ground and held up her hand. "Okay, okay. I give. Hey, you two ain't bad. You’re not good, but you ain't bad. Peace, chicks. Maybe we'll meet again. Then you'll see how awesome I really am, “she panted.

     The crowd was dispersing faster than it appeared. The fight was over.

     “Hey, could your friend. . ." she pointed to her skin "Change me back? Blue's not my color."

     Jeanine obliged.

     "Later, guys. I'm outta here, soon as I pick laughing boy's pockets for my fee. It's cool," Weaver agreed. "See. I'm going this way. Later." She headed for the limp form of the Coroner who was being looked after by Blondie. Sirens could be heard in the distance-- coming closer.

     Heather ran over to Jeanine with Billy following her like a hyperactive puppy. "Are you okay?" she asked.

     "Yeah," Jeanine said. "So. Who's the geek?"

     "Hi, I'm with the school paper," interjected Billy. "How about some photos and an interview?"

     "Press? Well you should have said so. No comment."

Jeanine looked around for her adversary. "Damn! She was just here! Where'd Weaver go? She's gone." Jeanine said to no one in particular. "I could have used her help flipping my car. Now I gotta do it myself."

     Heather came up to Jeanine. "Are you sure you are okay?"

     Jeanine looked at her and fibbed, "My pride is crushed and my hand hurts, but the rest of me only exhausted. I'll live to feel the bruises." She tried not to look hurt.

     Joshua Lam came up from another direction with a med kit. "Awesome fight. You and Jeanine make a good team. You okay?"

     “Hey, where did you come from?” Heather had never been as glad to see her assistant martial arts instructor as she was at that moment. Josh had uncanny timing. She pointed to Jeanine's hand. "I think she was hurt in the fight."

     "I saw that move." said Josh.

     "Here's another." Jeanine flipped them off with her good hand. "Now, let me say if I'm hurt. I can speak for myself!"

     "Well, I guess you don't need my help after all."

     "Wait! Josh. Open that kit right now. I think I'm dying."

     Josh examined her hand and shook his head in amazement. Jeanine's hand had been broken in several places.

     "Is it bad?" asked Heather.

     "Well. The hand is broken. I'll need to immobilize it. Get to a hospital soon." Josh produced two ping-pong paddles and duck tape for the splint.

     "I'll go when I get home. What about the pain?"

     "You want to drive like that?" said Josh.

     “‘Do I want to drive like this?' Yes, I do. About the pain."

     "Yes, I have something."

     "Not some weird Chinese secret?"

     "Just some local anesthetic I used to cheat at tournaments with."

     Just then a man who was listening to the teens tell their story produced a badge. He said he was a detective and asked Heather some of his own questions. He talked to Jeanine next. He didn't like what he heard.

     Jeanine decided not to press charges against the gang or Weaver. Apparently, Weaver was a well-known menace around here. The lieutenant decided not to charge the two girls with anything, but took a lot of personal information.

     "You girls were lucky. Someone could have really gotten hurt. Weaver's mean but playful. I know you two think you're tough but she could have hurt you badly. She's one of the strongest Extraordinary Persons in New York State; she is high end material. NYPD usually lets the special patrol handle her," started the lieutenant.

     "I could charge everyone here with something but my vacation starts tomorrow so I don't want to bother with the paper work. Don't be surprised if I contact your parents though. You special types have to remember. . ." He was on a roll.

     Jeanine rolled her eyes and interrupted him, "You can save the 'Greater Responsibility' speech I get it twice a day: once at home and the once at school. When I show up, that is. If the police were on the ball things like tonight wouldn't happen. I don't mean to be picky but I noticed you didn't show up until after the fight was over. Where were you? Tell me! Huh?"

     Lieutenant Brigands gulped. "Look here young lady I'm doing you a favor."

     "My uncles are lawyers. Maybe they'd like to know why you were cowering in the shadows; do you think? Humm?"

     "I was calling for backup. I'm not insane. I don't have to answer to you." He was feeling ashamed at letting the girl railroad him, but his two-way was squawking at him so he didn’t have to deal with her anymore. He was being chewed out from a higher source.

     Heather looked at Jeanine in amazement. "Are you trying to get us thrown in jail? Are you nuts. You can't talk to him like that."

     "Hey. He's a civil servant, right. My parents pay taxes so he works for me. I want my money's worth and he's falling down on the job. You can't let the cops walk all over you. It's okay." Jeanine smiled.

     An ambulance came up for Corey and Bright Green. Two squad cars followed it. Only the blond girl remained behind with the big boss. The rest of the gang had fled when they heard the sirens.

     "Go on. Get outta here, all of you." said Brigands.

     Jeanine left, alone, as soon as she was able. Heather watched her leave. She had refused the ambulance. Her arm was in a sling and her car was dented and she just wanted to be by herself.

     "C'mon Heather. I’ll take you home.” Josh led the way to his car. Heather followed, exhausted by the night’s activity.

***

     Acea and her five squad mates had watched the fight invisibly perched on some cars in the parking lot. As leader of the group Acea made the call into central. “Target and her Nephi friend got involved in a brawl at the school parking lot. Target used a stunning spell to render an opponent unconscious. Target is returning home in a white Fiat. We are pursuing in our scout ship.”

     The girls all piled into a small stealthed shuttlecraft and made ready for takeoff. Acea, in the pilot’s chair, waved her hands over the blue starting runes, and the craft rose smoothly into the air. Soon they were following Josh’s white Fiat from five hundred feet in the air.

     Acea had the shuttle land in the neighbor’s yard across the street and watched Heather go into her house, but nothing else happened that night.

***

     Dr. Meyer addressed the Senate Budget Committee. “Yes, Senator. I do believe the incidence and magnitude of the powers we shall see in the coming generations will pose a problem, but only if we fail to develop some means of controlling the protein that causes a particular Nephi gene sequence to express itself. Today things are hit or miss. Children receive sprinklings of the power of the gods with little rhyme or reason.

     “If my program is successful we might be able to create a number of people endowed with the powers we want them to have, or we might one day be able chose our powers as we believe the ancient Nephilium did.

     “Charles Westinghouse has been generous enough to lend me support of his think tank for this project should you chose to fund it. I think, Senator, that would be a very wise choice indeed.” Dr. Meyer took a sip of water and looked at the faces of the Senate Budget Panel. True to form, they told him nothing, but he could sense a slight warmness in the room.