"I would never be with 'some floozie!'" he muttered indignantly. "The term is 'aspiring actress.' In any case, I must be off."
    "People are too quick to judge," Phoenix Talon agreed sincerely, garnering several curious looks.
    "I didn't realize it was this late, I should probably get going, would you like me to lock up, or will you be here for a while?" Stephanie inquired.
    "No, why don't you lock up. Thank you very much."
    We headed out. Was Stephanie staring at Thunderbolt, or was I imagining it?
    "We're all up, I just had some coffee, you want to go check this place out before we head home?" I suggested.
    "Sure, why not," Scott agreed. "So I wonder why Larry has your number in his phone book," he remarked when his employees had both gone.
    "What?!"
    I still can't decide how annoyed I am about that. As with so many other things, all I have to go on where men are concerned are memories that aren't mine. If I can trust those, they're all bastards deep down.
    Anyway. We swung by the theater district as suggested, but didn't see anything promising.
    "Probably one of those things where I'll have to poke around in tunnels and look for a mysterious power line," Scott sighed.
    Probably. I'm not sure what to make of these guys. Are they going to think like theme villains, or like businessmen? From my brief experience, the former are easier to deal with. There has to be a way to trace their activities, find a trail. What do they need? Costumes, weird weapons, detailed city maps for finding abandoned theme-oriented buildings. Maybe Larry had the right idea, wrong place. Judging from the Wall, Stone, etc. thing, they enjoy hiding in plain sight. What's the biggest costume shop in town?
    Dealing with these people is going to make me nuts.

[Aside: Phoenix Talon]

July 17, 1987

Went to see Hamlet. Felix and Stephanie were there as well as the four of us. Larry's performance was, naturally, stunning. It was a lovely evening. Quite relaxing. Thunderbolt seemed to enjoy himself as we all went out for dinner afterward, which was a bit of a relief after Promethean. At least Paul seems to have a sense of humor. He seems very intent on being a "proper hero," and of course Larry and Felix are brimming with stories about how the old guys did things. Given our current crime wave, I can't even say it doesn't apply to the present day world.

July 18, 1987

Ow. This was not a good night; I can still feel that damn laser.
    Phoenix Talon and Thunderbolt went to the party. Scott was out on patrol, and I stayed in, keeping an eye on the phones and thinking about Felix Javelin. We don't have a whole heck of a lot of leads there, and psychotics are so damn hard to predict, especially when we don't know what he's really after. I have a nasty suspicion that until he feels entirely safe, the Spyder persona is going to continue to dominate him, and our chances of catching that one in a mistake are painfully low. It's going to take time before he relaxes into whatever hiding place he's found; maybe then one of his less careful personalities will come out to play.
    I really hope it's not the one that likes to hurt little girls.
    Eventually, the phone call I'd been waiting for came. I hadn't expected the evening at Caduceus to go smoothly, but I sure as hell didn't expect this.

[Aside: At the Party]

    By the time I got there, most of the party guests were milling around outside. An eighteen-wheeler was standing on its nose, cab buried in the ground. A good portion of the building was a loss—I'm beginning to think it was built on an ancient Native American burying ground or something. I saw Candi holding Phoenix Talon's bokken, then Phoenix himself. Holly Shapiro was dragging her unconscious cameraman out of the building and holding the camera herself, still shooting. Gotta admire her dedication, I suppose.
    I went inside and saw two men in wolf costumes, and Odin, who appeared somewhat the worse for wear. I wasn't going to be able to hurt his inorganic systems, and the rest of him was out cold; I left him for Thunderbolt, who was bearing down on him with a certain savage look in his eyes. I chose one of the wolf-guys as a target. Didn't do much to him but get his attention, unfortunately.
    Odin spun around to face Thunderbolt. "You have brought on the battle-rage of the Norse gods!" His mouth wasn't moving; the voice came from a hidden speaker. Thunderbolt hit him with a diffuse light blast that washed around him with little effect.
    "Where's Scott?" I wondered aloud.
    "Downstairs," Thunderbolt gasped as Odin stalked slowly nearer and swung at him with the spear. It hit the bar as he dove out of the way and sliced it in half. The smell of alcohol drenched the air.
    Phoenix Talon switched on his bokken.

[Aside: Scott]

    I tried my attack again, with significantly better results (at least from my point of view).
    "Geri, can't you do something about her, she's out of my reach!" The other wolf-man crouched down and sprang straight up in an impressive leap, only to bounce off my shield and go through the window to land near Holly Shapiro.
    "I am going to fry that bastard," Thunderbolt muttered, sending another fierce blast of light towards Odin. He took it in the chest, but those cybernetics just refused to fall over as he accelerated into a lumbering charge, nearly penetrating Thunderbolt's shield with the spear as the hero hurled himself out of the way. Odin kept going through the hole in the wall, out into the parking lot. Then he turned around.
    Phoenix Talon went out there as well, after the wolf who had gone through the window, and nailed him with the bokken. The two of them faced off directly in front of Holly, almost on top of her cameraman. Freki, the other wolf, did a running leap through the window and slammed into Phoenix, dragging him down to the ground.
    "Ha! I got him! Quick, help me kick his head in!" he yelled to his companion.
    We were all distracted then by the reappearance of the truck, which had somehow gotten out of the hole. The headlights suddenly gained seven or so feet of altitude, kept going, and sailed over our heads. The raven women waved at us.
    The back end of Odin's spear launched a cable up that wrapped around an axle, hauling him into the air. It was moving fast. I saw Scott's cloud trying to follow; it looked as if the truck was swinging back around for another pass.

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