It's his turn to wake alone.

Not that he really sleeps, mind you. Once his eyes close it's lifetimes upon lifetimes that move through his mind, ages past of heroes and villains, good and evil great and small. He'd never been the most famous of the world's guardians, never remembered save in passing, stories of minor heroes the world over.

Few would remember he was the first. Those that remembered him would never be able to decide if he, in his first act of kindness to mankind, was acting as guardian or doombringer.

It was an act of defiance and trickery that had earned him the only real pain and punishment he's ever known, a vengeance visited upon him by the ones he'd hoped to bring lower. Far from the humility he'd hoped they'd learn, they had grown more cruel, more arrogant. They had unleashed the heartbreaker, one opposite of him in every way, using her as their instrument of destruction.

Their attempt had been foiled - his gift to man had proved powerful, and by the time humanity was visited with their plagues they had grown stronger, too strong to be destroyed fully.

His punishment was meant to last forever, until another hero, far more renowned even now than Finn himself will ever be, freed him from his chains.

He could have hidden himself away, could have chosen to live as the old ones did, far and away and safe from the evils and plagues determined to beset the world he loved so.

But as tempting as it was, it was not the world he felt so responsible as the beings upon it he had chosen to serve so long ago. He had incurred a wrath the Devil Himself might have shied away from, had done so knowing it would come.

He had known too that in the ages to come he would be vilified and vindicated in equal measure, that none would know him for who he was and would in time by most be forgotten.

He had spent most of the last week contemplating the words spoken by the armored figure of a man that called himself Ranger. All true words, none truer. For ages upon ages he had been mankind's guardian, their champion, though most had forgotten in the intervening years.

When they had finally turned on him and taken his last reason for living away, he had thought to give it all up. Let humanity fend for itself - they no longer needed him.

Did they?

Here, he's rediscovered that purpose, a meaning to his existence he had thought to have forgotten.

The old theater is empty, save for small scurrying sounds of rodents searching the corners for a crumb, a morsel. No sounds of humanity here now - Avy must have taken her twins out to run the town, a trio of trouble and energy even he can't always keep up with. Rising from the bed in their room, he dresses, as usual, in black pants, a t-shirt, sneakers.

Moments later he is above the city, wind screaming past his ears as he heads for the manor house.

He'd looked in on the location a few times since the Ranger had given him the address, and while he has yet to see either the owner or (presumably) his armored alter-ego leaving or entering the premises, he can;t see any signs of a trap being laid.

Right. A trap, for him' Only one had ever managed that, and he had been a being worshiped as a god. That one and his ilk, though still of that legendary power, have been stagnating on their lonely mountain for so long that it's a wonder they even remember the rest of existence.

He comes to land lightly at the front of the mansion, looking around just in time to see the sleek, shiny black limousine pull to a stop in the driveway.

All the years he's been in Vegas, it seems to him, pale in comparison to his first week in Rhy'din.

Dragons, vampires, werewolves, gnomes, trolls, orks, things right out of storybooks, sci-fi movies, horror flicks and everything in between can be found here, it seems. he'd spent most of the first couple of days holed up in the plush apartment on the top floor of a complex called Toujours le Vert, which it seems is also owned by Batten. Ed, whatever. He's the boss.

And then there was the celebrations of Beltane. He knows the Pagan holiday well enough - he'd lived in Vegas, and there's quite the New Age following there. The first night had been routine enough - escort the boss man, be discreet, make sure he's safe.

It hadn't been difficult, but he kind of wonders what the big deal had been - the party was big, lots of people, but there hadn't been any real danger to speak of.

The second and third nights, though, had left him simmering a little. Until Lily...

He's still not sure what to make of it. He's had to work with the blind once or twice, and at any rate isn't uncomfortable with someone in his personal space...especially not a lovely, willowy little slip of a girl like her, blind or not.

But there had been a moment, there, hadn't there? Something that had passed between them at her touch, some moment of familiarity. He had felt it - as if they already knew each other.

And the way she spoke...it's not only the memories it stirs, confused images of a time he's tried to bury with the body of his mother. There was more there, something that called to a part of him that he didn't know existed.

Pushing it aside, he rises from his bed and goes to shower and dress.

The car is waiting at the entrance to the apartment building as he exits, long, black and sleek. As he approaches the man - nondescript in a black suit and sunglasses - opens the door and lets him in, then heads around to the front of the car, silent and professional as before.

The trip is short from the apartments to the manor, perhaps a few minutes.

I could've walked.

As he gets out, not waiting for the driver this time, he spies the other man waiting near the drive. Shorter than himself, lighter of hair and leaner of build, he looks...well, rather unimpressive, to be honest. He looks like a stiff breeze would blow him away, but he watches Leo with eyes that look like they could tell stories for days without ending. Without thinking he settles into that odd, trancelike state.

Old, old eyes, out of place even with his weathered appearance...this guy looks like about a universe worth of bad road. Small, maybe, but tough as iron...not someone to try a fight with unless you want a world of hurt on the other side of it.

It all comes to him the way it always does, by instinct, by feeling. A blend of all five senses working in concert to create a sixth. Oddly, though, despite the man's rough appearance, he can't help but somehow like him.

Still, he keeps his thoughts and words to himself, giving the smaller dude an upnod by way of greeting as he approaches.

He"

He hadn't forgotten that, had he" Not one, but two coming to the manor. Especially after reading the file on Finn. Funny that when Ed had approached him, there'd not been so much as an inkling of who he was.

Part of him still, even after a few weeks of processing and re-reading the files, finds it difficult to believe. Finn's hadn't been a file, so much as a textbook on so many mythological and folk heroes the world over that it read like Homer rather than factual data. One piece of information had, in particular, held the most intrigue for him. Most seeing it might have immediately rescinded the invitation Ed had extended to him.

Fortunately, the Playboy takes a more objective view of things.

And then there was Leo's file, which contained all the information that Batten Industries had...but went further, much further. From Leo's life, it read backwards, a genealogical map that stretched back to the ancient Greek state of Sparta and beyond into myths and legends itself. What shocked him the most about it, however, was that it explained the process and factors of genetics they were trying to achieve, controlling the bloodlines for ages upon ages.

There's something about the thought of eugenics that makes him sick. While the goals are sometimes laudable, the type of people that engineer such things, in his experience, are only concerned with the end result and discard what they see as 'imperfections' or 'impurities,' failing to see that sometimes those imperfections are a necessity.

Ane's fingers curling through his give him another reason to hate them all the more. And time is drawing shorter by the moment - it hung like a guillotine blade between them, threatening to take even this simple, pleasurable sensation from him.

There has to be an answer. there has to be.

That triple chime sounds, this time from the air itself, as Diana's monitoring of the sensors detects that both have arrived and are waiting outside. "Act'ally, chere, dey're already here."

Walking over to the door, he pulls it in to reveal Finn and Leo walking towards the entrance. With a grin and a sweeping motion, he waves them into the foyer. "Messieurs, Ah form'ly welcome y'all to Batten Manor, mah home and mah castle," he announces with theatrical flair.

From the moment he steps in and looks, he knows.

He knows it all.

It's not Edward - yes, he knows the name, it comes to him so easily now. Not Leo's almost strutting walk across the room.

It's her.

As soon as he lays eyes on her, he can feel that the time is near.

It's not just the new shiver of heat that crawls its way up his back, causing small beads of sweat to form on his forehead. Not just the sudden feeling of revulsion he feels in her presence.

He knows, as soon as he sees her...everything.

Edward he would have figured out in an instant, as far as the armored figure goes - with the man's height and build he would fit into it perfectly, and the way the man gestures to usher them in the house - he'd known on sight.

But looking on that face, even after so long, to find her, hear...his antithesis, a weapon meant to destroy what he had worked to build, what he had come to love. Made in a fit of spiteful anger, she had been ignorant of her purpose. She had been cautioned not to open what she carried, never to release the evil it contained. He had cautioned his brother before Zeus caught up to him that she must be watched, had cautioned her of the doom that would befall mankind.

He would never know why she did it, only that she did. To him, in his thoughts, the woman before him would ever after be known as Plague.

It all rushes in on him, a never-ending wave of knowledge and memories. He hasn't been paying attention, as always, keeping an eye on everything but himself. In a dim section of his mind that contains the thoughts, memories and emotions of the being currently know as Finn, he reflect that Avy will probably scold him for that. Again.

Looking on Ane - the name again leaps to his consciousness unbidden - the whole web unfolds before him. Her purpose here...the Order...Leo...Edward.

Edward...

Later he'll only be able to tell Avy the same thing, over and over. "He's seen i'...he's seen i' an' he doesnae even know wha' he's seen!"

It's not in the files, not at all - the Order keeps that final goal completely secret, so much so that only a few really know what it is at all. They would tell her what they wanted from him, but not their true reasons for obtaining it.

Finn - the being that calls itself Finn - knows.

He knows it all, can see how it's all connected, scraps and tidbits all assembled into one critical place, many lives careening towards each other on a collision course.

Ed has seen the secret, the last treasure of the gods.

Not only has he seen it, but he's used it for himself...without even knowing it!

For a single moment he wants to warn him against her, wants to make sure he knows who she is...but as he looks back to her, he sees.

Not just the way she looks at Ed, in that split second before she sees him - he knows the love in her gaze, has seen it countless times, and knows that she is not the Order's instrument...not anymore.

It doesn't stop the feeling of loathing that touches him as he looks at her...into her.

What he sees is a horrible sort of ironic justice. She has hours only before the treatments - derived from the plagues she herself loosed on the world, he can see - begin to halt their augmentation of her body and begin to destroy her, little by little.

He feels another surge of heat, this time at his core, a pulse he knows is a warning sign. Time has drawn short.

Turning, he gives Ane a nod before turning to Edward. "Ah...do nae know how tae tell ye this...bu' ye and me...we're goin' tae have tae talk la'er, sir. somethin' 'as jus' come tae my attention tha' mus' be seen tae righ' away."

With another nod to Ane, working hard to keep the underlying sense of revulsion hidden, and one to Leo, he steps out of the manor and is gone, heading south.

For just a moment it looks as if it's going to be a pleasant time all around. He'd looked forward to this, to sharing his personal vision with someone other than the one man he'd started all of this with. It seemed to him that there was here the makings of something momentous - of pieces of a puzzle being brought together to move the world.

Leo's approach he had approved of instantly - confident, polite, professional, it was everything he expected...and then Finn walked in.

His specialty has always been puzzles and abstract thinking, taking seemingly random pieces and placing them in the proper positions to come to a solution, even if they seem disconnected. He doesn't really need it here - there is something that passes between the Irishman and the Lovely in that moment, an instant of recognition followed by something he can't quite make out in either of their expressions, something that charges the air with tension as thick as if a storm had rolled into the room.

But then it occurs to him - the files on Finn had referred to him as 'Project Prometheus.' And the other references in them, of times in the past, stretching back into antiquity.

A quick look between him and Ane whispers another piece of esoteric knowledge to his consciousness. Ane Sidora...AneSidora...Anesidora...

His eyes widen, stormy blue-grey roiling in realization.

No way...

He's not certain just what?s happened between them, though he knows animosity when he sees it and has his suspicions. As they both take their leave, he motions to Leo to wait a moment as he walks over to a glassy-looking panel set into the nearby wall and moves his fingers over its multi-touch surface, pulling up the house sensors to look at the biometric readouts.

He can tell that it's not at the fatal stages yet. Whatever treatments she's had, however, are starting towards their withdrawal process.

For a moment, he's torn. Nothing yet from those analyzing what material she's been able to give them, not even a means to duplicate it without access to files they can't get. This weekend...it had been a celebration of life, and yet beneath it there had been the desperation of the doomed.

He knows he's missing something, and what?s strange is that he feels, over and over again, that the solution is right there, in front of him, in his grasp, and yet he's not seeing it.

She'd said they should conduct their business, and she's right. He feels enough for her that he would not want her to think he pities her, and instead should give her credit that for the time being she is strong enough to stand on her own.

Looking back at Leo, he sighs. Well...he's gonna be the last to know.

Turning away from the wall, he beckons Leo to follow him. "Ah don' pr'tend t'know what dat was all 'bout, but we do have business t'attend to. C'mon, Leo, and lemme show ya what all de hush-hush cloak-n-dagger stuff is 'bout."

He grins at that, tilting his head in the direction of the doors as they step through. "Like dat' It's act'ally rat'er interestin', de way it works." Gesturing to the floor and hallway around them, he goes on. "Dat material de doors're made out of is act'ally an extrusion. Dere's more of it behind de walls, under de floor. Ever' step, ever' time ya use a touch pad, yer addin' t'my overall power supply."

He waves at the ceiling. "Built inta de roof're solar collection panels of de stuff, too. De material yer seein' is only half o'de system, my own pers'nal invention, wit' a bit o'help derivin' from...well, let's jus' say a lot a' diff'rent pieces of a puzzle. In'restin'ly de idea was t'create a material wit' piezo'lectric properties dat could gen'rate enough power in proportion to de force put on it to make it a pract'cal en'rgy source. When we finally found de right form'la, we found out dat it had photovoltaic an' thermovoltaic prop'rties t'boot. De production met'od is act'ally my biggest secret. Wit'out de form'la an' de pr'duction process, ya could have a sample of de material in front of ya an' never be able t'reproduce it."

As they walk along the hall, lights from panels and flourescents above begin to flicker to life. "De lights're sensor-activated by our steps and biosignatures being recorded by de house's AI, whose name is Diana, or jus' Di fer short. Ah've got sim'lar systems in de v'cation house, an' dey should be installin' it in de 'partments yer stayin' in by de end of de day."

By now he's leading them into the office space. All around them, it seems, there are multitouch screen surfaces built into tables, the desk in the back corner, lining the walls. As they move towards the desk, near the corner, Diana's holographic construct forms out of nowhere, turning its attention to him. "Sir, Mr. Pontius has just informed me that he is on his way and should be arriving at the manor within minutes."

He nods, chuckling. "T'anks, Di. Kindly light up de display section fer me."

Tilting his head back towards the other end of the basement, where lights can be seen flickering to life just out of sight, he chuckles. "If ya t'ink dese toys're cool, mon ami, lemme show ya somet'in' dat'll really blow ya 'way."

Five years ago - southern Afghanistan airspace

"Ranger, our heading is one-niner-five at thirty thousand feet AGL, speed four hundred fifty knots. You are cleared for exfiltration over the drop zone."

The message comes over the helmet's internal audio just as the loading ramp of the C-17 Globemaster is lowering to reveal the twilit rocky terrain below moving past in the wake of the big cargo plane's path. Looking out on this tableau is a tall, broad figure wrapped in black and silver armor, the helmet concealing his face behind sleek lines that would appear eerily blank if not for the glowing optic sensors.

Under the armor, Ed reflects to himself that most people about to attempt what he's going to do would likely be experiencing a sense of panic. He has no parachute, no other safety system other than the suit he's wearing, which has only been tested under controlled conditions.

Now, here he is, in the belly of his cargo plane, and all he can think is: I've been waiting for this.

He watches on the heads-up display as the final systems checks are completed, taking all of a few seconds thanks to the satellite uplink to the central computer back at his home facilities. He doesn't wait another moment after that, taking two steps forward and leaping into space.

There's little sound of the wind rushing past, though he can feel the turbulence of the air around him as he falls, spread-eagled, towards the ground below. Watching the altimeter display overlaid on the projected image feed the optic sensors relay to his HUD, he relishes the feeling of freefall, the molten-electric feeling of adrenaline coursing into his veins. Even so, his voice is cool and calm as he speaks to the AI via the uplink.

"Diana, begin monitoring EM bands and auditory frequencies, and start a thermal scan of the terrain below. They're hiding down there somewhere, according to the last intel reports...we need to find 'em before the enemy does."

It's his first real mission inside the Ranger Project's latest revision of the armor design it had conceived. The combat exoskeleton he's wearing is nearly identical to the Hammer suit he'll use in the future, though perhaps with slightly more bulk, the armor a solid black save for the silver, rather than having the subtle gunmetal hue that will eventually take its place as its creator continues making improvements in materials and design.

The female voice of the AI comes back a moment later in his ears just as he's falling past ten thousand feet and his HUD overlays with a targeting display, highlighting a portion of the terrain below, nearly thirty miles to the northwest. "I have a possible lock, sir. Thermal signature indicates three men moving south slowly, through the canyons." A moment later she continues, her voice unruffled despite the gravity of the news. "Sir, it appears they are being pursued by the enemy. Thermals indicate twenty men in two trucks. EM bands show traffic between the trucks and a coordinating aircraft...sensors indicate a helicopter orbiting overhead their location, what appears to be a Bell UH-1."

He doesn't need to hear any more - as the altimeter reads his altitude dropping below seven thousand he pulls his arms and legs in, turning himself from a wide surface to one more narrow, streamlined. Haptic feedback sensors throughout the suit register the movement and react on preprogrammed preferences set by Ed himself, and the thrusters built into the boots, along with the pulse generators in the palms of his gauntlets, suddenly power on and fire, kicking him into flight rather than freefall. With a movement he increases the power output and turns in the direction Diana had indicated to him. The terrain below becomes almost a blur as he rockets forward.

A mere moment later he hears an alert whine from his sensors, and a second later Diana's voice cuts across it. "Sir, it you have been detected. Sensors indicate a missile incoming from the helicopter. Lack of radar emissions indicate..."

The rest is drowned out as he sees the flare of light incoming, and there's no time to think anymore. Acting on instinct, he dives for the ground, which suddenly begins to get terrifyingly close as he kicks more power to the thrusters. The missile follows this bright flare of light, instantly locking in on it like a hound on the scent.

A short second before the missile impacts he twists and arches his body, rocketing upwards at an angle impossible for the missile to match with its limited maneuverability, and it slams into the ground an instant later, creating a bright flower of fiery light.

He doesn't see it, though - he's climbing, looking around for the helicopter that had just fired at him. With the bloom of flames below him it's not difficult to find. With his sudden climb he's now above the chopper, and once again acting on instinct - now with a kind of fire that burns in his veins, the heated blood and thrill of the feud every man might experience on the field once the battle is joined - and arching again to dive straight for the helicopter.

The sound barrier breaks as he kicks more power to the thrusters, his palms pointing down to add the pulse generators' thrust to the mix.

He has weapons he could use to engage this aircraft at a distance, but to him, this is another test. Let's see what this baby can do.

The helicopter pilot sees him coming at the last moment, dropping in from straight above on a collision course, and tries to move out of the way. He almost makes it as the figure flies through the rotor blades in a flash of thrusters, but for the one blade that catches him across the calves.

Even with the inertial damping systems in the suit, that impact throws him into a flip. The same impact snaps the rotor blade like a twig, leaving only a dent in the armor. As he flips around in the suit, Ed points up with his palms and sends a blast of kinetic energy at the belly of the helicopter before snapping around and twisting to stop his spinning before putting energy to the thrusters and rocketing out from under it just as the falling machine explodes in a blast of fuel, shrapnel and body parts.

Looking at the HUD, he re-orients himself with the three he's been sent here to cover and assist until medevac choppers can arrive, rocketing in their direction.

It doesn't take long, perhaps thirty seconds, and he's dropping to the canyon floor near to them, his hands up and out, the pulse generators powered down as all three raise their guns at him. Three young Marines, one very obviously with a broken leg, another with a tourniquet on his arm, the third showing many nasty cuts and other smaller injuries, and what looks like a bullet wound to his shoulder.

And yet they're ready to fight, and if necessary die, for each other.

Fine men, with a more noble purpose than his. To him it's mostly a kind of game, with the added bonus of being able to help in situations where most might not succeed.

Wasting no time, he addresses the three. "We don't have much time, gentlemen. I'm here to help you Marines get out of here, but first we need to get rid of the enemy pursuing you. Can you all fight?"

They look at each other dubiously, still pointing their weapons at him, until the least injured of the trio lowers his Heckler & Koch MP-5S. The other two follow suit as he nods. "Yes, sir, we can fight, if it means getting out of this hole."

He nods inside the suit. "Good. Then let's get an ambush set up right over there - without their chopper they won't have much chance of seeing it coming."

The least injured of the trio at that point is the man standing before him with the expression of mingled disbelief and amazement on his features. Seeing it, he can't help but chuckle to himself, nodding his head.

"Yeah, dat was me. Ah'd've told ya sooner, but...well..."

He gestures to the suits on display before them. "Well...dis seemed t'me de mos' 'musin' way of doin' it."

He refuses to be driven, will only ever be content driving himself. Unlike Ed and Leo, he came from a family near the edge of being poor, if not out-and-out broke. His father, God rest his soul, had taught his sons well that a man must be able to stand on his own to feet, should be independant so far as a man can be.

No one had ever driven his father around - no one would drive his only remaining son, either.

His mother, however, was a different story - once he had made it to the top of something, once he knew he was able he had moved her out of the decaying Detroit suburb and into a house that she insisted was far too grand for someone of her stature.

But she hadn't refused, either, and when he had stopped by to see her last week had still appeared to be perfectly content to be pampered and waited upon by her staff.

The image brings a smile to his lips. Even with the cleaning staff, butler, driver, and everything else that could be provided for her, his mother refused to let anyone else do her cooking, had even gone so far as to redesign the kitchen on her house to her own preferences. The Sundays he went over to her house for dinner, even he was banned from the kitchen. Even the phantom stinging on his wrist, a memory of his mother's preference for wooden spoons even in her later years, makes the smile widen a bit more as he turns into the driveway of the manor and steps out of the modified McLaren MP4-12C, heading inside.

As soon as he's walking through the foyer he's rolling his eyes. He'd hoped that Ed would wait for him to get there before unveiling the big secret to Leo, just so he could see the expression on the younger ex-Marine's face.

So much for his bosses' patience - it appears that only extended as far as his work, not his entertainment.

He wastes no time, heading down towards the stairs and descending to the basement. The door opens at his approach automatically, which tells him immediately that Ed's down here.

He's just walking into the labs and work spaces when he hears Leo's last question.

"He designed the system, the interface and the materials used to make the armor feasible without having to connect it to an external power supply. As far as the actual design of the armor and the systems that make it safe for use by ordinary humans - that would be my contribution."

Chuckling, he walks over to the pair standing before the display as they turn to look at him. He knows that look on Leo's face - he'd seen it on Ed, and without a doubt it had at some point been on his as well, before he'd given in to temptation and designed his own.

The look of a kid contemplating just how best to play with a new toy.

He turns his gaze to Ed, sighing and rolling his eyes yet again. "You just couldn't wait, could you? You had to go ahead without me."