Meanwhile, Dark Angel flies the villains towards downtown Birmingham, with Ghost Rider and Malachi riding below. Passing nearby the stadium, the heroes can see there is still a great deal of activity. Gawkers watch as police and firemen go about the task of maintaining the cordon and cleaning up the damage. Not surprisingly, the Federal Building is open for business even at this late hour. Several cars sit in the parking lot, and most of the windows shine with light from the offices behind them.
    Walking up to and through the front doors, Malachi strides directly up to the reception desk. Trying to look as friendly and non-threatening as a 200+ lb., over 6 foot black man dressed in a mask, fedora and tattered clothing can while covered, in dust, soot, and blood, "Evening. I wonder if I could speak to someone about delivering some criminals to the Federal Bureau of Investigation?"
    The man behind the desk, wearing a plain white shirt, dark tie, and slacks, his suit jacket hung over the back of his chair, looks up from the book he'd been reading. His mouth opens slightly, but he says nothing.
    Dark Angel descends dramatically into view of the front door, pushing and holding it open with tendrils of Darkforce. He deposits the three villains, also held with pitch-black tentacles of force. "Villains! They have gone too far: not alone violating human law, but His law. I bear witness to their effrontery and transgressions. Take the vermin for I am quit of them!" Dark Angel's voice booms.
    The man's mouth opens a bit more, and his eyebrows draw closer together above the bridge of his nose. His hand shaking, he holds up an index finger. With his other hand, he picks up the receiver of the phone, pins it between his ear and shoulder, and then punches a button.
    "Uh, yeah," he says, his eyes never leaving Dark Angel. "This is Wills. Tell Gyrich he's gonna want to talk to two more witnesses before he leaves. Yeah. Yeah. Check your freakin monitor." The man lets out a little chuckle. "That's one way to put it."
    He hangs up the phone.
    "Uh, gentlemen," he says, rising to his feet. "The man you want to talk to is on his way down. Mind waiting a minute?"
    "No problem. I'll wait. Mind if I have a seat?" Malachi walks over to one of the reception chairs and sits down. He looks tired.
    "I bear witness against their transgressions." Dark Angel continued to hover, the Darkforce like so many leashes to the villains. "The condemned shall not leave before their crimes are addressed. So the...so the avenging Angel--" he broke off, as if searching for the word. His altitude dropped a few inches. Catching himself, as if realizing he was nodding off, he finished, "So the avenging Angel said!"
    A voice sneered inwardly. Where are you going with this, Samuel? He didn't have an answer. Pushing the voice out, Dark Angel's features (what could be discerned) screwed up in effort. To prove his point, the sagging lines of Darkforce snapped taut into ebony rods and his aura proved quite menacing.

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