After popping Shawn's prone body one more time, just for good measure, the "guard" steps over him, heading towards the party. He pulls out his radio and says, "Operation Knightfall has commenced."

"Ungh!" the "guard" grunts in turn, as an armored figure slams a foot into his kidney, then flips through the air to land nimbly on her feet. He stumbles to his feet, only to be knocked down again by the woman in black armor. His gun skitters across the tiled floor, coming to rest near Shawn. No Brady Bill approved handgun, this is a VIPER Golden Pistol, he realizes. In the air in front of him, the woman slams her staff into the "guard's" head, and blood gushes from the wound. He lies still, and the figure turns to contemplate Shawn. Her armor is black and form-fitting, and over the left breast there is a silver silhouette of a chess knight piece. With a barely perceptible nod, she backs away from him quickly, melting into the shadows of the hallway.

And that's when the ground began to shake.

In the staff bathroom, Cassie is splashing water on her face when the ground starts to rumble. "Not another one," a voice complains from one of the stalls, and Cassie immediately recongnizes it as Marcia Thompson.

Drying her face on a towel, she hears the first screams.

Morgana is quite enjoying her conversation with Carol Crawford, for it is not often she gets to talk with people as well versed in current events as she is in a casual setting. Indeed their conversation has picked up a number of satellites, other guests circling and listening to

the conversation.

However, their conversation is interrupted when a young woman in a blue dress, dragging a rather bemused man along behind her, calls out (not too loud), "Morgana, I have someone for you to meet."

Morgana turns to look and says to Carol, "That is my roommate and secretary Birdy, she is a bit excitable sometimes." She then steps forward and says with a smile to Birdy's companion, "Good evening, I am Morgana Windrifter, paranormal. It is a pleasure to meet you, any friend of Birdy's is a friend of mine."

Morgana extends her hand and a slight breeze buffets her, swirling her long black hair and causing her dress (by Vivienne of London) to ripple as if alive.

The ground begins to rumble, and several of the guests groan. "Jesus, not another one," Mark sighs. "I am thoroughly sick of earthquakes."

Knightblade is standing next to Professor Gardner when the ground starts shaking. "Oh, my," Helena says, grabbing a nearby table for support as it becomes difficult to keep her feet. A waiter stumbles forward, dropping the tray of champagne flutes, and they shatter, spraying France's finest on the hard stone tiles. Knightblade steadies Professor Gardner. Instead of lessening after a few seconds, however, the ground continues to shake, and glass from the ceiling of the Hearst Court begins to shatter and fall to the ground.

The rumbling increases in magnitude and becomes deafening, sounding more like a jet than an earthquake, Knightblade realizes, just as the massive armor blasts through the ceiling of Hearst Court. Glass rains down upon the assembled guests, and slices through the air, propelled by a sudden burst of wind.

A massive figure lands on the marbled floor next to Knightblade, and the marble cracks under the weight. The armored figure raises itself to its full 30 foot height and surveys the crowd. The armor is a dull green, and there is a whine of hydrolics as the left arm of the armor quicky - much too quickly - snakes out and seizes Knightblade in his grasp. Immediately, there is a crackle as lightening courses around Knightblade's armor, and a smell of ozone quickly fills the room.

"Jesus, someone at VIPER has been playing too much Mech Warrior 2," Mark remarks offhandedly to Matthew. "Oh, God, Sarah!" he cries, looking through the crowd for the petite redhead.

"DON'T MOVE!" the mech booms. "EVERYBODY ON THE GROUND!" To punctuate his words, he raise his right arm as rapid 30 mm rounds erupt from one of the weapon mounts on the end of the arm. Biting through the wall and spraying the crowd with stone, paint, plaster, and bits of precious stones as several Faberge eggs are scrambled.

The crowd drops as one to the floor of the museum, except for several people, including Birdy, who are so completely stunned by the mech's appearance that they remain frozen.

A tactical display immediately pops up in Knightblade's vision, showing rapidly decreasing power availability as his circuits are overloaded. The mech has grabbed him, and has completely bound his arms to his sides, in its viselike grip. Struggling against it, he remains trapped.

"Hey, Snake boy," Maria Chow's voice calls out. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" she says, as she gracefully leaps into a clear spot behind the mech, directing its attention away from the crowd.

It responds by leveling its right arm at the Silver Avenger, and letting loose with a barrage of cannon fire. Eight rounds slam into Maria's body, shooting her back, into the bowels of the museum, landing at Shawn Crawford's feet. Back in the Heart Court, there is a stunned silence, then the crowd begins to scream.

"Jumpin' Jimminy Christmas, what's THAT?!" Shawn exclaims, rolling to his feet. He scoops up the pistol and tucks it in the back of his belt as he trots toward the party as fast as he can on the now-rolling ground, tying his mask around the back of his head as he goes. The armored woman will have to wait.

Suddenly, the unmistakeable sound of a 30 mm cannon booms through the place, and the Silver Avenger comes slamming down the hall in a heap. "Maria!" he says, leaning over to check her out

"ANY MORE TAKERS?" the deep, amplified voice says from within the massive green armor. Looking up through the electrified field, Knightblade can make out the writing on the huge chest. "Dellinger's Delight," it reads, and there is a graphic drawing of a buxom blond woman. Underneath, in smaller letters it says, "This armor made possible by a grant from the Marjorie Dellinger Foundation."

The Silver Avenger is unconscious, but not bleeding. "Uh, oh." Protector says, striding forward until he can look out into Hearst Court through the Maria-Chow-shaped hole in the wall. Seeing the 30 foot, green armored figure, he raises on eyebrow, "Wow, and I thought the Nazis

had no sense of style... Good grief, is that Knightblade?" He looks around for Cassie/Odyssey.

Oh, Jesus, this guy just took out the Silver Avenger in one shot. There's no way I can break his grip, and this electric field is going to fry my armor and my brain. What the hell am I supposed to do?!

Looking down, Knightblade sees Helena on the floor below. He notices a cut on her cheek from the exploding glass. Barely perceptible, but as a drop of blood runs down her face, Tyler's self-doubt is drowned in anger. What am I gonna do?!

Turning his head back to face the mech, Knightblade's shoulders straighten, and his armor creaks as his muscles tense. You may be bigger than me. You may be stronger than me. But boy, you just opened a whole can of whoop-ass!

Knightblade begins to twitch his head and cries out in a strained voice, "Armor... shorting... out!" He concentrates, and violet sparks travel from his head to his feet. Although the energy actually soothes his tortured nerves, he locks his body as if the armor has become rigid and

unmoving.

Well, that was the first public display of that power. All right, Metalhead, do I win the Oscar for Best Special Effects or what?

Matthew tenses on the ground. Is it going to kill Knightblade or kidnap him? What will Morgana do? He readies himself to move at the slightest opportunity.

"Mark, when everything hits the fan, concentrate on getting people away from that thing," he says in a soft voice, "And be careful."

"Right. Wait... what about you? Jesus, you're actually going to try something, aren't you?"

"I'm going to try to get help. Shhh.. it's looking this way."

Matthew smoothly rolls to his feet and sprints for the hole that Maria made in the wall. A graceful leap carries him through; a tuck and roll and he's back on his feet on the other side. Here hidden from other eyes, he concentrates, calling deep within himself, calling on the voice that spoke to him earlier.

Suddenly, his body glows with a faint light. The golden luminescence consumes his form, molding it, shaping it. Pliant now at the hands of some otherworldly force, the light that is Matthew grows. Then, as soon as it began, the light fades, leaving behind something... else.

The Dragon is a four footed serpentine creature stretching 5 meters in length (8m including the whole tail). Its broad, low head is adorned with a fringe of whiskers on the chin and along the rear portions of the skull. Pairs of horns rise from behind the eyes, and a pair of barbules descend from beneath the nose. Scaly armor covers its body, which is surmounted by

a ridge of membrane connected spines. The Dragon's coloring is iridescent green with golden whiskers and belly armor. It has no wings.

The claws flex, scoring inch-wide gauges in the floor. It rumbles a complex tring of syllables in a tougue unspeakable to any human. Slowly, it floats off the ground, flying despite its clear lack of wings.

The massive creature peeks through the hole to sight its prey. Then with an ear-shattering roar, it launches itself through both air and wall to attack! Leading with its six-inch claws, the huge reptile slams into the hulking machine of Viper. Talons scream in futile agony across the surface of the VIPER mech's armor, barely scratching its dull green metallic sheen.

"NICE TRY, PUFF. HAVE A NAPALM COCKTAIL." The mech's left arm raises and a stream of fire erupts, washing over the dragon, setting him aflame. Though the fire's heat does not penetrate the dragon's hide, it continues to burn on its skin fiercely, and the flames lick down, setting the dress of a sixteen year old socialite ablaze.

The barrage of ten blasts echoes back to the restroom along with the slightly muted screams and general sounds of falling glass and cracking marble.

"Domine Deus!" Cassandra cries out, lasping into Latin. "That's no earthquake."

Dropping the towel in the sink, a momentary shiver of dread travels down Cassandra's back and nestles itself in the base of her spine. Canonfire, heavy canonfire and somewhere in all that is Tony and Alex. Her worst fears realized only minutes after voicing them to Protector.

"Deus, spero per gratiam tuam remissionem omnium peccatorum, et post hanc vitam aeternan felicitatem me esse consecuturum quia tu promisisti qui es infinite potens, fidelis, benignus, et misericors." she whispers.

*("God, relying on Thy almighty power and infinite mercy and promises, I hope to obtain pardon for my sins, the help of Thy grace." - It's the Act of Hope. But not the whole thing.)*

A prayer repeated a thousand times in catechism and church, but now said in reverent hope and need. God, she thinks in silent prayer, if you get us all out of this unharmed, I swear I'll start attending mass regularly.

There's no answer.

I'll become a nun? she offers.

No response - no great sign.

"I wonder if God is laughing at me," Cassandra mutters.

"Shwoosh - gurgle," as if in response, Marcia Thompson flushes the toliet. A second later she steps out.

"Nice dress," Cassandra says, noting that the grand dame of the museum board is dressed in a very flattering blue silk suit.

"Yours too," Marcia says, glancing at Cassandra's fashionable white silk dress.

"We've got a problem."

"So I surmised, that sounded like a canon." Marcia says. "And gunfire."

"Yes, and I didn't arrange for anyone to play the 1812 Overture, so my guess is that someone or something is crashing the party." Cassandra pauses to peek out the bathroom door. It looks like the coast is clear. "Look, I'm going to see if I can sneak up and find out what is going on."

"You know, we only deactivated the fire alarm on the front set of doors for the evening. If you go out the back door, it should trigger the automatic fire and police alarms. If it doesn't you still be outside and can reach a phone to call the police and PRIMUS."

"I understand, my dear, but what are you going to do?"

"Run really quietly and say a lot of prayers. Maybe God will grant me inspiration by the time I get to the court."

With that, Cassandra kicks off both of her high heels. She then rips a slash up the side seam of her skirt to give her a little more running room and sets off toward Hearst Court.

Dodging through the museum's darkened corridor, Cassandra didn't see the figure lying prone on the floor before her. However, she felt it when she tripped, her foot catching the body and throwing her full face on the museum's floor.

"What the hell?" Cassandra muttered pulling herself up and back toward the object. Rolling it over, she is greeted with a sight to haunt her nightmares for years to come: the body of Maria Chow -- Silver Avenger. Her silver party dress is torn to shreds though the skin underneath is bruised but intact. She is very unconscious.

"Oh God, oh God," Cassie mutters. With that Cassandra concentrates as hard as she as ever has. Harder than when she took the SATs, harder than when she was taking her anatomy and

physiology final. A golden glow, like the air on a heavy pollen day in the mountains builds

around her hands and she presses them to Maria Chow's chest.

"Please be alive, Maria, please."

Energy pours from Cassie's hands and into the Silver Avenger. Never before has she seen anyone so unconscious, yet still alive. After several exhausting seconds, Cassie believes she's gotten Maria stabilized, and she stands.

Standing in the shadows, Protector watches as a dragon appears, apparently from a darkened hallway. As it attempts to grapple with the mech, the mech's right arm traverses directly on to the dragon, and a hellish flame erupts, washing over both dragon and young woman below. She shrieks as her blond hair ignites. "Oh no! What is he DOING?!" Shawn thinks, horrified. "He's going to get someone killed!"

Mark, who had begun to rise, drops flat as flame and heat wash over him. After an eternity, it passes. Mark glances up in time to see fire run down the dragon's tail and fall on a pretty young woman who crouches nearby. She shrieks in dispair and horror as her dress and hair burst into flame.

O God, Sarah... Mark is torn between seeing his heart's desire to safety and rescuing the burning young girl, but in the core of his soul, he too is a hero. I can't just let her burn...

The girl has risen to her feet and begins to run in panic. Mark bounces erect and leaps for her, bringing her down with a flying tackle that would do a pro football player proud. He rolls with her burning form gripped in his arms, desperately smothering the flames with his hands, clothing, and body.

Don't think about the pain; time for that later. Gotta put the fire out... Watch out for that oversized GoBot, I don't want us stepped on. Aaagghh! My hands!

The mech does not release its hold on Knightblade - whose armor is now beginning to smoke - but instead unleashes a salvo of 30 mm cannon fire. Seven of the rounds connect, and fling the flaming serpent back across Hearst Court, where it lands in a heap, crushing several guests. Blood explodes from the craters created by the depleted uranium projectiles.

"This is turning into a nightmare." Protector mutters, frustrated. "Get out of there! Let him leave - then we can open up on him!"

Lisa sees the girl with the blond hair as her dress ignites. Suddenly she remembers when she was learning her powers, how it would backfire. The broken glass from her enhanced strength, the burns on her hands from her Star Bolts; even the time when her forcefield trapped her in a smothering shell. When her hair ignites, she snaps back to reality. But this was no paranormal backlash. Damn it, If Starlight can't save the day, then Professor Gardner is gonna do it.

The deafening roar of the VIPER mech's cannon sounds nothing so much as a blender on Cyberline, Lisa thinks from her position on the floor. The Mech, maneuvering for a better position to shoot at the prone dragon once more, lifts its massive foot from the cracked floor, and begins to move forward, retaining its grip on Knightblade.

The metal foot - easily six feet long - descends towards Helena Amory.

"THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO?" the Mech laughs.

Helena! NO! Anger wells within Lisa's body and focuses in her extemities. With the strength and speed of a cheetah, Lisa reaches out and plucks Dr. Amory out of the way of the foot, tearing Amory's clothes from the sheer force. Too many friends lost. Lisa holds Helena close to her body. No, I can't just stay here. "I gotta ... get help." Lisa explains to Helena as Lisa's powers start to show as sparkling lights hiding under her glasses.

NO! Oh God, the people! HELENA! No, no, this has to...

From deep within the reaches of his soul, Knightblade cries out, "STOP!!!"

"IF IT'S ME YOU WANT, YOU'VE GOT ME! LEAVE THESE PEOPLE ALONE!" As he

speaks, Knightblade notices another display on his HUD. "Electro-stimulus malfunction: Armor at 58% malleability"

What the? Oh shit, I never thought of that. The armor must at least partially react to electricity. Wait a second, maybe this can help me.

Keeping his body tense, Knightblade pushes with his left arm against the hand holding him. He feels his armor give somewhat as it molds to the contours of the mech's fingers and palm. Relaxing his body completely, he tries to get the room to pull his left arm free, but the mech's grip is too tight.

"This is turning into one party from hell," Cassandra mutters, standing over the Silver Avenger's prone form. "Well, Maria, hopefully I'll be back to help you some more when this is done. 'Hopefully' being the operative word here."

Great, Cassandra thinks as she takes off in a run down the hall, now I'm talking to unconscious Avengers. The next thing you know I'll be having conversations with Eleanor Roosevelt and Ghandi.

As she jogs through the darkened museum rooms, Cassandra is greeted with the harsh sounds of utter destruction. At one point a deafening shriek that sounds like a semi truck slamming on it's brakes echoes down the hallway. That noise is followed by something that sounds like fingernails on a blackboard - magnified 200 times - and more of that booming gunfire.

Finally reaching the opening to the Hearst Court, Cassandra comes to a skidding halt in her stocking feet. Before her is a scene of unimaginable damage. It looks like Japanese anime come to life replete with armored figures battling, bystanders caught in a panic and beyond them a dragon!

At the sight of this Cassandra is caught without words and her mouth just gapes open. Then a foolish thought enters into her head. "There's going to be one hell of a cleaning bill."

Looking at the thing occupying center stage of the court, she shudders. The mechanical monstrosity has got Knightblade caught in a vice grip and is crushing him like a beer can.

Doing some quick math Cassandra realizes the odds are not good. Knightblade's trapped, Maria's out for the count, I don't know where Protector is and whomever or whatever that dragon is it doesn't look like it stood a chance against the MM (Mechanical Monstrosity). Add to that the 500 party guests caught in the middle of all this.

Please God, please let Tony and Uncle Alex be still in the exhibit hall. Please, she whispers in a fervent prayer, please.

Glancing up, Cassandra starts to move forward. Maybe if I can get close enough to that thing, I might be able to do something. Hoping the confusion of the crowd hides her somewhat she tries to get closer to the MM.

A cold, hard fury erupts from deep with in Morgana as the night turns bitterly cold. Winds rip around Morgana and carry her aloft, her hair tears loose from the ribbon that bound it and streams behind her. Broken glass sweeps up with the wind, slicing through the crowd, and people begin to scream anew.

"Oh Mary, Mother of God!" thinks Morgana, "I have harmed innocent people with my actions. Is father right? Are we a threat to humanity?"

"You coward!" she shouts at the Mech. "Hiding in a walking tank, threatening and harming helpless people. You must be proud of yourself now, watching the people cower before your might. You are nothing! Nothing but a spineless craven. And I will see you brought to justice for your crimes!"

With that Morgana raises a wind sprinkled with motes of ice between the Mech and the party guests and then sends a cutting blast of bitter, arctic cold at the Mech's arm holding Knightblade. The ice blasts against the mech, and bits of frost form on its surface.

Undaunted, it continues forward. "THERE'S ONLY ONE ICE QUEEN, BABE," the VIPER mech chuckles. "AND YOU AIN'T HER." He raises his right arm again, and a fiery stream erupts, filling the area around the flying woman. The fire sears through her defenses, scorching her skin, tenaciously clinging to her. Propelled by the wind which surrounds the woman, flames whip down through the crowd below her.

"No more!" screams Morgana as tears begin to pour down her cheek and she concentraits through the pain (mental and physical) on creating a vortex of wind centered on around her to draw the flames and shards to herself.

Mark rises painfully to his feet, wincing at the burned flesh on his arms and hands as he pushes himself up. His eyes search frantically for Sarah, finding her, but directly in the path of the VIPER juggernaught! Mark pushes his body into a sprint, straining for speed. Sarah! "Noooooooooo!"

Sarah and the older gentleman beside her have realized their imminent danger, and have hastily scrambled to their feet to flee. They are not quick enough. In their panic, the two run directly away from the mech, ensuring their doom by the descending foot of the behemoth...

Mark throws himself at the pair, knocking them to one side and out of harm's way. Even as he hits them, his right foot is struck by the metal sole of the mech's foot, sending him skidding and rolling across the marble - and directly into the path of the mech's other foot! Pain shoots up from the damaged limb, nearly overwhelming the agony of his arms and hands.

"Oh my God, Mark!" Sarah cries. "Daddy, help me!" From Cassie's viewpoint, she sees de Young museum board member Carl Ponte spring forward in his own turn and haul her newest secretary out of danger's way.

Cassandra is stunned as she sees Carl Ponté - in her opinon the biggest snob to walk the museum's halls - actually risk his life for someone else. "I didn't know he had it in him," she says.

Dammit, I'm just gonna have to try to keep him distracted from the crowd, Knightblade thinks, his vision starting to darken. Hopefully, they'll have a chance to escape.

Violet electricity streaks up and down Knightblade's armor as he coughs, the pressure of the mech's grip starting to collapse the integrity of the armor, "You do realize that the Presidio is right over the hill. Considering the stealth of your approach, we should be able to see how well you do against fifteen pissed off Iron Guardsmen in about…two minutes?"

And just in case... Knightblade activates his radio. Bursts of static fill his ears. Well, they might get it.

"Knightblade to PRIMUS base. VIPER mech attacking the de Young. Avenger Chow is down. Bring the biggest gun you've got." The radio crackles again then dies out.

"HEH, HEH, HEH," the mech rumbles, amused. "THAT'S A GOOD ONE. AIN'T NOTHIN' PRIMUS GOT THAT WE CAN'T BEAT."

"HEY! HEY YOU! WAIT!" Shawn Crawford yells. The VIPER mech's attention and weapons turn to train on Shawn, who loosens his collar and gulps.

"You have what you came for," he shouts up at the metal giant. "There's nothing more to gain by further bloodshed."

"Is VIPER's goal here to get Knightblade, or to anger a group of the most wealthy and influential people in the country until they wholeheartedly support any and all measures that could lead to your elimination? Think about the ramifications of what you're doing here, and I think you'll see that your superiors would prefer that you leave now that your mission is accomplished."

Sweat pours down Shawn's brow as he fervently hopes that the VIPER agent's fear of not knowing what their commander would really want him to do is stronger than his bloodlust. VIPER has goals, he thinks, and they need a certain amount of support from other people and organizations to achieve those goals. Even most unscrupulous people are reluctant to support the wholesale slaughter of innocents, and the accompanying heat that comes with it. VIPER is in the crime game to make money - and there's none to be had by killing all these people, he reasons. Looking down the barrel of a 30 mm cannon, he hopes he is right.

"THERE'S NOTHING ANYONE HERE CAN DO TO STOP ME, FREAK." With that, the mech tosses Knightblade's body up into the air like a rag doll, shouts, "PULL!" and fires a weapon from the largest port in its arm - what looks to Shawn, standing below - to be a 120 mm cannon.

WWHOOOSSHH- KA-BOOOM! Knightblade's body is hit with a tremendous force as the 120 mm SABOT round slams squarely into his chest. The concussion from the impact slams the cream of San Francisco's society into the floor, and the museum shakes. Knightblade crumples to the ground, unmoving as blood pours from the cracks in the armor, and residual electricity arcs over his body.

"KNIGHTBLADE," Cassandra screams. "Oh, God, please let that armor be as good as he says it is ...."

"WELCOME TO THE NEW WORLD ORDER, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN," the mech bows as the SABOT casing clatters against the marble floor. "THIS IS HOW VIPER DEALS WITH ITS ENEMIES. REMEMBER THAT." Moving again with inhuman speed, the mech raises its arm so that its at a 90 degree angle to its body, then fires. More plaster and glass rain down on the crowd, and the roof itself begins to buckle and collapse. The mech tenses its legs, and prepares to leap from the remains of the de Young Museum of Fine Art.

Surrounded by swirling winds containing shards of glass and plaster and the occasional flame, Morgana raises herself higher into the sky. As the Mech leaps by her she screams through her tears, "Justice!"

With that a stroke of lightning crashed from the heavens into Morgana, her body arcs into a cross. The lighting coalesces around her shattering the glass and plaster caught by the winds and then leaps to strike the Mech.

Morgana's body, limp, begins to fall.

Knowing that Cassie is closeby to help Knightblade, Shawn searches for an point of entry on the mech, though he finds nothing. Scrutinizing the armor, he realizes there's a subtle distortion field protecting it as well. The mech prepares to leave, and he thinks, "That's right, get the heck away from all these people."

Lisa is about to raise her arm to fire at the Mech. Wait! It's leaving. The fear and the hatred gnawed at her, she wanted to lash out at the Mech. But too many people need intense medical attention, if the danger leaves, than perhaps it is a blessing. She looks over at the fallen knight, "Knightblade! He's DEAD!" Lisa says without actually checking the body, it was more important that the Mech was happy with a job well done than the accuracy of her report. But the amount of blood pouring out of almost every crack in his armor worries Lisa. Now, that's heroic.

Looking up, she sees the roof starting to collapse. You know... I'm beginning to hate social gatherings.

Mark's head whips around oblivious to his pain. Sarah!...is OK. He looks up at the man who saved him, eyes widening as he recognizes Mr. Ponte. Then, something Sarah said finally penetrates. He's her father?

"Thank you, sir," Mark gets out through clenched teeth. The injuries of his foot and arms are begining to make their presence definitively known.

Sarah runs over to crouch at Mark's side. His eyes fill with the sight of her. She is heedless of danger, eyes fixed on him.

"Mark, you're hurt!"

The concern in her voice is the most beautiful thing Mark Burton has ever heard. Unfortunately all he can respond with is "Ummmm... ahh.... uh huh." An ominous creak from the crumbling roof interrupts this graceless reply. Mark's mind is suddenly rivitted by the thought of the ceiling falling on his beloved Sarah. The urgency of this is the one thing that can overcome his natural tendency to bungle any interaction with the young woman.

"You two have got to get out of here!"

"Oh, God, the ceiling," Cassandra whispers as she glances up at the spiderweb of cracks that are rippling across the marble and stone.

A golden glow starts to suffuse through her body as she draws herself up to her full height. We have got get these people out or there's going to be a worse tragedy then there already is.

Looking directly at Protector she yells, "THE CEILING IS GOING, WE'VE GOT TO GET THESE PEOPLE OUT OF HERE."

With that, she concentrates on the group of people in the greatest danger of being crushed by falling debris, those directly under the Mech -- Carl Ponté, Sarah, Mark, Kinghtblade's body (shudder) and the miscellaneous people around them.

The glowing field around Cassandra turns to liquid sunlight and spreads around the group. "Don't worry, I'm trying to help," she says - though she doubts after the last few minutes that those words are in any way reassuring to the group.

The outside of the de Young museum is shrouded in fog and low light when suddenly, there's a pop like a firecracker going off and Cassandra along with several of the museum's guest appear on the sidewalk.

Taking a big gulp of cool foggy air, she smiles at the frightened guests - trying to relax them before she disappears back into the museum. Once again there's a flare of golden light and she's gone.

Full-fledged mayhem has consumed the crowd at the de Young Museum. A panic has ensued and people are clawing their way towards the exits. When Cassandra reappears inside the museum she is barely able to keep her feet as the crowd surges around her.

Struggling to free herself from the tide of terrified partygoers, she glances up at the ceiling. Plaster and marble are already starting to fall, peppering the crowd in a white fog.

God, I wish I had Tony's knowledge of architecture , she thinks. I hope he's OK. She doesn't even want to think that he might be hurt. I'll find him after this is all over, she promises. I'm sure he's OK.

Tracking the crumbling infrastructure she visualizes what looks to be the most insecure section of the ceiling the concentrates. Golden light starts to coalesce around her body, and suddenly she appears outside, next to the people she'd rescued only moments before, surrounded by piles of rubble. Sweat stains her face, and plasters her hair to her face, and her breath is becoming more labored.

"He's not going to make it, unless you do something," one of the women standing over Knightblade says to Cassie. "Help him, please." Carl Ponte is watching the scene with interest as his daughter attends to Mark Burton, whose leg is twisted at an unnatural angle.

With a low rumble, the VIPER mech squats low on the marble floor before springing up, back into the night. Just as it leaps out of range, Shawn Crawford, in tuxedo and white tie, jumps up and barely manages to catch hold of one of the legs.

"Jesus," Maria Chow croaks, absently pushing the fallen mural off of her chest. Coughing, she struggles to her feet - what happened to her shoes? And what's with the dust? Haven't been this out of it after a party since Steve and Chris' wedding… Ow, ow, ow. The screams of the crowd reach her, then, as she hears the whine of the mech's jet-assisted leap. She moves forward, through the ruined hallway, but stumbles on a body.

*Thum-thum*

Darkness.

*Thum-thum*

A spot of white light appears. It grows or comes closer, Tyler can't tell which, until a large glowing disk is in front of him. The circle flares, blinding him momentarily. When he looks back, a beautiful woman with long black hair wearing a simple white dress is standing before the light.

*Thum-thum*

"Where am I?" Tyler asks, noticing an odd echo to his words.

"You stand on the threshold," the woman says in a clear, musical voice.

*Thum-thum*

"Who are you?" Tyler says, feeling something familiar about the woman.

"I was there for you at the beginning. I will be there for you at the

end," the woman replies as she walks forward. Her face becomes more

distinct as she leaves the glare of the circle behind.

*Thum-thum*

"Mother?" Tyler's voice cracks as he recognizes a face he has seen only in

photographs.

"Yes, dear," the woman whispers as she envelopes her son in an embrace.

*Thum... -thum*

"What's going to happen?" Tyler asks as a tear rolls down his cheek.

"Something wonderful, baby. Something wonderful," his mother says quietly

as she strokes his hair.

*Thum...

The woman suddenly transform into Cassandra, saying, "When the hell are you going to

get off the ground! Geez, you heal someone and you'd think they'd at least express a little gratitude."

Tyler feels awful, and the pain is still horrendous. Cassie stabilized him, she knows, but he's gone beyond her abilities. There is a gaping hole in his midsection, and he just as quickly fades back out of consciousness. The two doctors work on him, while she returns back, vision nearly black with the exertion of energy, for more of the party guests. In the distance, police sirens whine closer.

Lisa starts pulling emergency paramedic supplies out of various pockets, silently cursing that she didn't have her lab coat that was twice as stocked. I can't believe he's still alive. Half of these organs barely existed until that strange glow. Stop shaking and save him. Lisa shutters again as she removes bits of Knightblade's armor imbedded within her patient and imagines what an unarmored target would have been.

The paramedics take the paranormal away after a few moments - they had been fast to the scene, someone must have warned them -- and Lisa begins to turn her attention to the other injured. They are straggling out, down the steps of the ruined museum to sit stupefied. Others hold one another, their evening finery ruined beyond recognition.

Underneath the rubble, Morgana shifts. Next to her, others are starting to move as well, for the building is, for now, stabilized. San Francisco Mayor Brown is dripping blood from a deep cut in his chin, but he stops to help a woman next to him up. "Damnest thing," he says. "Wind came out of nowhere and saved me," he's saying. More people begin to shift and move, pulling themselves up. An iridescent, leathery tail protrudes from under a ruined mosaic.

Morgana smiles slightly and tries to get up.

"Miss, can I help you?" a handsome man - Sancho from the foolishness earlier - asks. His hair is white from the dust, but he gallantly extends a hand.

Morgana take the offer hand and come (a bit shakily) to her feet. "Thank you," she says, "Now let us see about helping the others." With that she moves to begin helping the other survivors of this disaster, focusing on helping others to block out her own pain and weariness.

The mech's leap takes Shawn up over two hundred feet in a single second. As he begins to arc back towards the ground, however, the massive armor electrifies with a blinding flash, and the pain sends Sean rocketing back - straight towards the earth.

Shaking his head, trying to clear his spot-filled eyes, Shawn spins through the air disoriented. The wind whips past, roaring in his ears as he tries to get his bearings, falling through the darkness. "Rats!" he hollers to the open air, flailing his arms in an attempt to stabilize himself. Before he can, something slams into his back, but he passes through it with a shriek of shredding metal, only to hit something else, which stops his fall with a bone-jarring WHUMP!

"Ow."

"Who the hell are you?" an amplified voice demands. Picking himself up, Shawn finds himself staring at five Iron Guardsmen, currently in route to the de Young museum in Sherman.

"Protector," he says holding up one hand. "Chow can vouch for me. There's a VIPER armored robot in the area - it just trashed the de Young, KO'ed the Silver Avenger, and it might have killed Knightblade. It leaped out right over you. There are a lot of injured people at the museum. You'd better get EMS and fire responders out there pronto. It's a disaster..."

"Can you get some air support in here to look for it? Thing's thirty feet tall and it's gotta have a heat signature like the sun, but it also has an anti-aircraft cannon mounted on it, so tell your people to watch out."

"Buddy," the Iron Guardsman says, "We're working on it."

A sudden squawk of Sherman's radio: "Target has been lost to radar near the Farallon Islands. Alerting Coast Guard. VIPER tissue agents still on scene."

A minute or two later, and the Sherman arrives, spewing Iron Guardsmen out into Golden Gate Park. People are staggering out of the museum, and from his angle, Shawn realizes that the entire front tower has been demolished and that the north wall is about to come down. Carol is nowhere to be seen.

Hardly able to believe that he, Sarah, and Mr. Ponte are safe, Mark stares at the source of their salvation. Cassie appears in a flash of golden light surrounded by bewildered and panicked party guests. No sooner are they settled than she vanishes into the golden glow once again.

"Why that's..." begins Sarah.

"... my boss," Mark finishes. He sounds more puzzled than shocked.

Sarah turns her eyes on him. Wonder fills them. "Did you know she was a superhero?"

All coherent thought leaves Mark's brain once he realizes that SARAH is talking to him. That thought echoes over and over in his mind, drowning out almost all else. The pain of his injuries lessens as shock begins to settle into his system. Still, Mark senses that Cassie might not appreciate her powers being discussed and attempts to change the subject. "Ummm... er... no. Uh... are you ok?"

Sarah leans back, a frown marring her features. "Am I ok? Am _I_ ok?!? Mark Burton, here you sit with burned arms and hands, plus a broken leg and you ask me if _I'm_ ok? You nearly got yourself killed! You should be in a hospital, not asking after MY welfare. Mark Burton, if you ever...."

Mark's desperate gestures are unable to stem the tirade. The pain makes it worse, and Sarah's somewhat rough first aid contributes. Well, at least I.., ouch!... got her off the subject. Aaaahhhh! I wonder if Matthew is all right."

Inside the museum Cassandra pauses, her labored breathing echoing eerily around. Across the expanse of the Hearst Court people are slowing pulling themselves out from the rubble. Plaster dust coats everything, making it look like snow has covered the room.

Trying to focus on what is going on in the room, Cassandra feels the darkness of sheer exhaustion closing in on her. Shaking her head she tries to clear her vision.

"Cassandra, Cassandra, what is going on here?" a voice calls out. It sounds close to her right. Looking up she sees her Uncle Alex walking toward her, still wearing that ridiculous pot on his head.

"Uncle Alex, you're all right!" she says hugging the older man tight.

"Of course I am. What happened here?"

"Didn't you hear it?! VIPER attacked us with some powered armor thing," Cassandra says letting him loose of the hug and looking past him, searching for another person to emerge from the hallway. "It nearly killed Knightblade. I couldn't even heal him all the way. And it destroyed this area and injured a lot of people. Where's Tony?"

Alex's mouth gapes open as he finally sees the destruction of the court. In bewildered amazement, he doesn't hear Cassandra's question.

"I was looking at the exhibit. It was so interesting. I...I never heard the noise......" Alex's voice trails off, a stupefied expression gripping his face.

"Is Tony with you?"

Turning, Alex regains his wits and stares at Cassandra. "You look terrible, Cassie. " And then as the question finally registers. "Isn't Tony with you?"

"No." Cold hard fear starts to gnaw at Cassie's belly. Where is he? Is he okay? Oh, god, I don't know what I'll do if he's not OK.

Seeing the stricken look on his niece's face, Alex immediately tries to alleviate her fears.

"I'm sure he's OK," he says. "He probably went back to the museum offices to find you. Any second he'll show up. You'll see."

Fighting the rising panic that threatens to well up and consume her, Cassandra looks back toward the court.

"Come on, perhaps he's somewhere in the court. There are people there who need help," she says, her fear boosting her adrenaline and granting her a renewed sense of energy.

Struggling over broken tiles and cracked marble that litters the floor, Cassandra reaches the ruined mosiac. Fifth century Byzantine, part of her mind observes.

"I'm telling you there was a dragon and several people over here before the ceiling fell," she says.

"Are you sure, Cassandra? I mean a dragon...." Alex says skeptically.

"I'm sure."

Every bone in her body aches. She's been able to heal a couple of people, but each time it feels like she has to dig deeper and deeper into a pit for the energy to do it. People are starting to help each other up across the room. Socialites are finding themselves transformed into everyday heros as they aide their fellow man. A few doctors have organized a first aid area and are helping with the casualties. Cassandra has been trying to get to people to injured to move, healing those she can. However, she can feel herself growing weaker by the minute.

And still no sign of Tony. Maybe he went home, she hopes wistfully. He's sitting on the couch waiting for me.

"Is this what were looking for?" Alex says, breaking her reverie. He holds up three feet of iridescent tail.

"Yes! See, I told you there was a dragon."

"Are you sure this is a wise idea?"

"Look, the dragon got injured fighting the VIPER guy. So he must be a good guy, right? Don't tell me you believe all those legends about dragons stealing young virgins. The Chinese believe that dragons are gods and can bless people."

"Well, if thing is a god, why in the hell did it get blasted back to the Stone Age?"

"Thor would have gotten blasted back to the Stone age if he got hit by one of those canon blasts. They were terrible....."

It takes them several minutes to pull the wreckage off of the dragon, and miraculously, several people crawl out - they had been shielded by the dragon's bulk when the roof collapsed. Taking a deep breath, Cassie begins the task of healing the dragon. Already exhausted, it takes her long minutes of healing and resting before the dragon stirs.

First the tail starts to twitch. Then, the claws reflexively flex. Finally, the eyelids flutter open revealing orbs of a brilliant and deep green. Carefully, very carefully, it rolls to its feet and looks around at the damage.

"Things were so much more simple when you humans only had swords," it rumbles. We should never have allowed you to develop gunpowder. Next time, I'll listen to that little voice in my head yammering about 30mm cannons. By the Creator, I don't think I've taken such a beating since... well... ever.

Cassandra's eyes get as wide as an Animé heroine's pupils.

"It talks!" she says in an awed voice.

There are two guaranteed truths about reporters. One -- if there is free food or booze offered at an event, they'll be there. Two -- they're always present when you least want them to be there.

Roughly 36 reporters were at the museum opening, mainly political and social reporters. The political reporters were keeping an eye on the likes of Willie Brown and Dianne Feinstein. The social reporters were trying to get an interview with Albert Hudson, Jack Harrison, Ben Berkley and Silver Avenger Chow.

When all hell broke loose, those reporters swung into action. With representatives from all three of the major network stations there, plus reporters and photographers from the San Francisco Examiner, San Francisco Chronicle, Oakland Tribune, Associated Press, Reuters, CNN, MSNBC, and then Hard Copy and Inside Edition, it was only a matter of seconds before cameras were rolling.

As people struggle out of the debris from the collapsed museum, reporters are helping them up only to ask, "So can you explain what happened here? How do you feel?"

Channel 4 KNBC reporter Tom Pictford has gotten a hold of Mayor Brown and is interviewing him on the steps of the de Young, next to a large portion of the fallen tower.

"Truly the damage here is beyond belief," Brown is say. "Our hearts go out the everyone caught in this tragedy, especially those injured."

"Has anyone been killed in this attack?" Pictford asks.

"It's hard to say, I thought I saw some bodies down in the court, but people were moving so fast. There was a real panic. Now we are waiting for emergency crews and PRIMUS agents to clear out the area before we can make an assessment." Brown responds.

"You heard it here first on KNBC, the Mayor has confirmed that some guests have been killed. The exact number is unknown. However, the damage to the museum is tremendous. Well over 80 people have been injured, some seriously. The entire area looks like a war zone. This has been San Francisco's worst terrorist act...."

Another television crew has focused on the battered figure of Knightblade as he is being loaded into the ambulance. The reporter's voice over intones, "....struck down at the start of the attack, it is doubtful whether Knightblade will survive."

Inside the museum, the S.F. Examiner's photographer has climbed over the rumble to start snapping pictures of the utter disaster that is the Hearst Court. A veteran war photographer, Mike Nelson knows that one thing sells newspapers -- death and disaster. As he scans the debris field he looks for that one moment-in-time picture.

Struggling through the rubble, Cassandra spots the bright blue of a cocktail dress slightly under a piece of the marble and plaster.

"Uncle, give me a hand. There's someone over here."

Alex climbs over the broken slabs of the ceiling to reach Cassandra's side. Between the two of them they push the piece off what appears to be a young woman.

"OK let's see what is wrong here. Miss, can you hear me?" Cassandra says as she kneels down and turns the woman over.

The girl -- she can't be over 16 -- can't hear anything. She's beyond that. Her eyes are fixed in a glass stare and her mouth and face are frozen in a shocked expression. She probably didn't even have time to say a prayer of wish her loved ones good bye.

Cassandra can barely move. She's never seen a dead person before, let alone hold in her arms a 16-year-old girl who should be alive and ready to call all her friends with her story about the night's events.

Tears start to flow down her face as Cassandra realizes that there's nothing her powers can do. This young girl is gone. She cradles the body of the girl on her lap as she closes the girls eyes.

Alex places a comforting hand on Cassandra's shoulder. "There's nothing you could have done, Cassandra."

Looking up at Alex, tears washing down her face, Cassandra says, "Yes, there was. I should have gotten here faster. I should have teleported that thing out of here. At least then no one but paranormals would have been hurt."

"No, sweetheart," Tony's voice says from behind her, as he puts his hand on her other shoulder. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have held you back." He is as dirty as Cassie, with plaster dust mixed with blood on his forehead. His face is gaunt with pain, and his shirt is damp with the blood. "I am so sorry."

"Tony!" Cassandra yells.

She gently crosses the young girl's hands and then jumps up to hug her husband close.

Holding on tight, she whispers, "I thought I might have lost you. I love you so much. Don't go anywhere - ever."

"Nothing's your fault. I should have talked to you sooner. I should have told you what I was thinking," Cassandra breaks down, blabbering. "I'm so glad you are allright. You're OK right? Where did all this blood come from?" She looks at his chest. "Oh my God! Tony, are you injured?" She bats away his hands trying to get a better look at his chest. She can feel her power start to rise like the hackles on an angry dog.

"Really Cassandra they are nothing, just some scratches......" but before Tony can finish his sentence there is a burst of golden light around him and Cassandra.

After a few seconds the light fades leaving the two standing there.

"We'd better see what else we can do to to help," Cassandra says, her eyes never leaving Tony's face. "Yes, that'd be good," Tony replies. While they are talking, it doesn't appear that their words are really reflecting what they are saying to each other.

Ah, that husband-wife telepathy, Uncle Alex thinks. "Cassandra, Tony?"

The two of them turn and, accompanied by Alex, move off to help others.

The shutter of Mike Nelson's camera opens and closes.

Something green and very large suddenly obscures his view of the touching scene. Lowering his camera, Mike looks up to see what has blocked his next shot, and is confronted by the visage of the dragon. Normally quite fearsome, the combination of plaster dust and blood

covering it renders it truly horrible.

"You've got your shot. I think they'd like to be left alone for a bit. Why don't you go take pictures of someone else now?"

The dragon's voice rumbles forth from deep within its throat. It grins after the speech, baring six-inch teeth that gleam wetly. Mike hastily backs away, instinctively snapping a shot as he does. The dragon's lips close over its fangs, although it still wears a smile... sort of.

"So nice of you. I thank you on their behalf."

Jogging forward, Shawn reaches the museum and makes his way over a rough pile of debris to enter. "Carol!" he calls, his voice one of many seeking a lost soul in the chaos.

"Shawn!" comes a reply from across the way, and Shawn looks over to see Carol emerging from beneath an enormous green figure. Ignoring the Dragon for the moment, he meets Carol halfway and they embrace.

"Thank God..." he says, holding her tightly. "That's twice you've ended up in the middle of one of these things."

"Hey, its not my fault you got zapped and now you're some kind of disaster magnet!"

"You're the one taking a nap under a DRAGON!"

"His idea; not mine," there's a short pause as they look at each other, then they laugh. "You better get back to work. I'm all right. Really."

Shawn looks her over and decides she's being honest. "Have the paramedics look you over anyway."

"OK, Mom..." she says with a strained smile, and walks toward the PRIMUS line set up to help victims walking out of the building.

He sees Cassie ferrying victims from the disaster site to the rescue teams outside, and is glad he's not the only one working in reckless disregard of his supposedly secret identity. His jacket discarded along with his tie, Shawn pauses to push his sleeves up past his elbows and walks past the Dragon, who is persuading a reporter to make himself scarce.

PBEM Turns