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"This ain't gonna look good, folks." Jacob Marlowe sat at his desk, enjoying the feel of his secretary's hands on his shoulders. She massaged his aching muscles, ignoring the fumes from his cigar wafting up into her face. A radio perched on the corner of his desk repeated once more the news reports coming out of Russia: that some sort of metahuman incident had occurred at a military installation, resulting in the loss of nearly 30 Rocket Reds and possibly the man known as the Crimson Dynamo. "It's only a matter of time before word gets out that the 'Cats were involved. We might as well forget the 'covert' part of our name after this."

Pris, leaning forward in her chair and sipping from a steaming hot cup of cocoa, rolled her eyes. "Forget that! Adrianna frightened me, Jacob. The look in her eyes... it was like some of the old Void was coming back, but at the same time there was such fury emanating from her! I'm worried about what she's going to do."

Hadrian looked down the sultry beauty who had seen past his artificial nature and found the soul that lived within. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed softly. Looking back at Jacob, he said "Pris is correct, sir. With your permission, I'd like to fly back there and --"

"No." Jacob held up a hand to silence their protests. "Adrianna's a big girl. We've all had our doubts about her since the incident with the Orb*, but she's earned the right to handle this the way she wants. Hell, if it were my father they'd tortured to death, I'd do the same."

(*Back in our third issue.)

Pris could scarcely believe her ears. "So we just let her stay out by herself until the Rocket Reds overwhelm her?"

"She can teleport away whenever she wants, remember?" Jacob picked up his secretary's hand and gave it a quick peck before standing. He moved to stand in front of Pris and Hadrian. "We've got more important concerns right now... I told you guys about the offer from Machinesmith. The Daemonites are in some very high places in the Russian government and they've got their claws into some of the Rocket Reds and other metahumans, too. They're gonna see this assault of ours on the Solution Camp as the first salvo in a new war between us... and they're right."

"You think we should ally ourselves with the artificial lifeforms, sir? Some of them are known criminals, including Machinesmith."

"Yeah, yeah, I know that, Hadrian. But you've verified their story for us -- the Daemonites are in Russia and they are in control of the military there. I say we trust these guys for now -- but keep 'em on a real short leash." Jacob looked hard at Hadrian. "You sure you've purged all traces of the Thinker from our security system? I don't want 'em eavesdropping on us anymore."

"I found no traces of them remaining. Our building should once more be secure. As for our renewed campaign against the Daemonites, I believe that --"

Before Jacob could respond, Pris was on her feet. She set her cup of hot chocolate down on the desk so hard that some of it splattered onto the floor. Her face was flushed and excited, giving her the look of a beautiful Amazon about to bear down upon an intruder. It was an intoxicating combination and one that made both Hadrian and Lord Emp take a step away from her. "Excuse me?! Am I hearing this right... You want us to start another war with the Daemonites? No way. I'm finished being a soldier, Jacob. I came back to the 'Cats for two reasons: 1) I wanted to be with Hadrian and he refuses to leave your short ass out on the curb and 2) I actually missed Zannah and the others. But I did not come back so we could try and revive some war that ended years ago! It's one thing to take out small pockets of Daemonites and another to take on an entire country...! Call the JLA, for Christ's sake!"

Lord Emp straightened, drawing himself to his full height. It wasn't much, but it did make him appear more imposing. "I understand, Pris. But just because the war is over out there doesn't mean shit back on Earth. That was our mistake last time. We thought to ourselves that just because the Kherubim back home had defeated the Daemonites, that all the bastards here on this planet would lay down and cry. Well, they didn't. They mobilized -- and why not? They have nowhere else to go. Back on Khera, the Daemonites are practically slaves now! But here on Earth... they have the opportunity to make something for themselves. And it's our job to make sure they don't succeed. And if that means slaughtering every stinking Daemonite on Earth, then somebody's gotta do it!"

"All Daemonites, Jacob?" Pris crossed her arms in front of her, looking pouty and angry. "Not all Daemonites are evil. Back on Khera, I was thrown in with them because I have Daemonite blood in my veins... I got to know them. Some of them are okay. Maybe they deserve a place to themselves -- like you said, they have nowhere else to go."

Hadrian entered the conversation uncertainly, afraid of angering his lover. "Pris... I agree with you. Not all Daemonites are evil. Those that wish to live in relative peace on Earth should be allowed to do so. But the group in Russia was not invited within those borders, nor did the majority of their hosts offer the use of their bodies to the Daemonites. We have a responsibility to the humans and the Earth-bound Kherans -- and to those Daemonites who wish to live in anonymity -- to make sure that the more dangerous Daemonites do not gain access to nuclear and metahuman technology. I agree with Jacob on this matter--"

"Big surprise," muttered Pris, under her breath.

"-- the WildCATS were specifically designed to combat the Daemonite threat. Now, more than ever, we are needed. The secret war that has plagued Earth since the arrival of our races on this globe continues. We must accept that."

For a moment, Pris merely stared into the placid eyes of Hadrian. Finally, she sighed and nodded. "Okay... So what do we do now?"

Jacob clapped his hands together. "Glad you asked me that, babe. 'Cause I've got a few ideas...."

# 7

Yurgovia

Machinesmith stood before the Priests of Gort, watching as they slowly worked their magic. The three priests stood over the nude form of a young woman, her toned flesh an ungodly shade of white. It was not the color of life, but rather that of a long-dead corpse.

It had taken extreme acts of good faith to persuade the priests to perform this act, which involved the resurrection of long-dead flesh. The Church of Gort was dedicated to the propagation of a robotic religion... a sect whose beliefs sometimes clashed with humanity's. "Have the nanites done their work?"

One of the priests, an android in the shape of a pudgy middle-aged man, made a motion of agreement. "It has taken the Tiny Ones many months to rebuild the flesh of this one. But the soul is another matter. Only almighty Gort may download the soul back into this unworthy vessel. It would have been much easier had you allowed us to build here a more suitable form... of metal and oil."

"No... That wouldn't do," Machinesmith murmured. "You see... I used to be human. I know how they think. The Yurgovian government has been willing to deal with the Robotic Consortium because we're able to bring them large amounts of cash and weaponry... but one of their conditions was the restoration of their former leader, the warlord who made Yurgovia feared throughout Europe. If we brought her back as the Terminator, they wouldn't be pleased. Trust me."

"But she is still changed... the nanites have rebuilt her, but it is not blood in her veins any longer and her needs will be different. No longer will she need air to breathe or water to drink... She is transfigured." The priest lowered his head, uttering a prayer to Gort.

"Yes, but those aren't changes that people can easily identify," Machinesmith pointed out. "To all observers, this woman will be just as human as before... And as for the soul, don't worry. The woman was a Coda, and as such she took part in a blood-tying
ceremony. She has Kherubim blood in her veins and that makes all the difference in the world." Machinesmith looked down at the woman, whose skin was beginning to warm with life. "Quite attractive, isn't she? She must have worked out a --"

The woman's hand shot upwards, grabbing Machinesmith's wrist and twisting. The robotic limb snapped in two, sending hydraulic fluids spurting into the air. Moving quickly, the woman was off the table and kicking at the priests. One of them fell to the ground, her foot driving him downwards. The other two scrambled away. "Who are you? What are you doing in my palace?"

Gritting his teeth, the Machinesmith snarled "Crazy woman! We're here to help you... You've been dead for almost ten years! Don't you remember?"

The woman paused, as if struck hard in the face. She looked stunned as she relaxed her body. "Dead... Ten years?" Dumbly, she looked at her hands, which appeared youthful and healthy. "How?"

"The WildCATS... they defeated you. Twice. First when you attempted to launch a war against Europe and then again when you sought to form your own version of the Coda. Your country has crumbled since, with a weakened economy and a disarmament plan put in place by the United Nations. My friends and I are helping your people gain their proper place in the world, in exchange for a promise of land for ourselves. It is we who brought you back -- the Robotic Consortium."

"They wished me... back? But most of Yurgovia feared me, hated me."

"Perhaps -- but times have changed. The world has changed. You may have been a heartless dictator but at least the people had food on the table during your reign." Machinesmith stopped the leaking of his fluids and sighed. "Russia is preparing to deal you a terrible blow... I have convinced your old enemies, the WildCATS, to aid us. But your people want you to lead them. Will you do this?"

The woman stared about her, recognizing her Coda battle armor and implements piled on a table. She walked towards them, putting them on with practiced ease. "I have overcome death itself. It is a sign." Smiling to herself, she looked at Machinesmith. "I'll aid you, stranger, as you have aided me. You have the word of Baroness Destine* on that."

(*Seen in WildC.A.T.S Special # 1 and Voodoo/Zealot: Skin Trade)

Homeworld, Microverse

Harper Harrison, aka Jezebelle, could barely contain her glee. While her teammates had sacrificed themselves for her, she'd managed to free Warblade from his prison. The former WildCAT was now approaching the man behind his recent troubles -- the evil Baron Karza, master of the Body Banks. And it was Jezebelle who'd saved the day.

At least she hoped it would end up that way -- 'cause Warblade hadn't actually defeated Karza yet and until he did....

Harper knelt beside Zealot, nudging her gently. Both Jet and Manhunter were definitely out of it, but Zealot was semi-conscious. "Z... Can you hear me?"

Zealot spat out a small amount of blood before nodding. "Yes... Is Reno...?"

"He's out, yeah. Listen -- if Karza calls for help, I'm not sure I can handle it by myself. Are you going to be able to help?"

The former Majestrix of the Coda rose slowly, leaning on the younger girl for support. She balanced her sword in her left sword, seeming to draw support from its presence, as well. "Baron Karza will not call for reinforcements, not unless it is obvious he is going to lose."

"How do you know?"

"Because that is the way of arrogant men who covet power the way he does. I have seen it again and again."

Jezebelle nodded, thinking it best not to argue with the near-immortal about her understanding of dictator's psychology. She looked at her fallen friends and bit her lip. "Y'know... I might be able to wake them up."

Zealot watched as Warblade launched his attack, twisting and whirling his claws in a bid to get through the Baron's defenses. The warlord blocked his blows, transforming his own limbs into weapons. Having stolen the secrets of Warblade's powers, the villain now sought to use them against him. Zealot considered aiding her teammate, but she saw the look of fury and rage in Warblade's eyes and held her place. This was a matter of personal vengeance and she would not shame him by entering the fray. Turning back to Jezebelle, she nodded. "Then stop waiting and do it."

Jezebelle raised both hands, feeling the magic power pulse through her. She sometimes had trouble with specific spells, but that was generally when she tried thinking about it too much. At her best, she reacted with complete ease and naturalness. Mystic energy swirled around her, funneling through her and then outwards into her friends, filling them with the healing power of a battlemage.

Manhunter stirred first, his own accelerated healing aiding in the process. He raised a hand to his head as he struggled to sit up. Jodi Slayton, the spunky young girl known as Jet, rolled over with a groan, indicating that she, too, had been revived.

Zealot glanced at Harper, who was lowering her arms and panting. "Very nice. You are a valuable asset to the WildCATS. I commend you."

While Harper was basking in the unexpected praise, two men were engaged in a life or death struggle. Baron Karza, who had become the scourge of the Microverse, found himself hard-pressed to mount a suitable defense against Warblade's attack. The WildCAT was like an animal, grunting and growling as he slashed away at his foe.

At one time, Reno Bryce had sworn to end his career as a hero. He was ready to accept the end of the Kherubim/Daemonite War and retire to life as a normal man. But his kidnapping at the hands of agents of the Baron had made him all too well aware that his life would never be normal.

Karza gasped as one of Reno's blades pierced his protective armor and slid deep into his torso. "Your anger makes you powerful, Bryce... But you have to realize that you and your friends have no hope of escape. I'll pursue you until I have what I want... eventually Earth itself will feed my Body Banks."

"I don't think so... Besides, just because you copied my powers doesn't mean you know how to use them." Warblade covered his body with spikes, many of which seemed to ooze some sort of liquid.

Karza's eyes widened. "What are you trying to do, Reno? I admit to being intrigued," Karza parried Bryce's next blow and managed to move himself closer to the door. He could see that the other WildCATS were reviving, meaning that perhaps discretion would prove to be the better part of valor in this case.

Warblade elongated his right arm, jamming a fist that had been transformed into a mace against Karza's arm. A terrible burning sensation began to affect the Baron, who grabbed at his wound with alarm. "Still intrigued, you slimy bastard? That's a trick I picked up when I was on Khera*. I can do more than just transform my body parts... I can make all kinds of weapons. Including biological ones."

(*During the classic Alan Moore run on WildC.A.T.S volume one.)

Reno Bryce took a step back, watching as Baron Karza suddenly screamed. It was a long, lonely, terrified scream... very similiar to those emitted by Reno Bryce over the past few weeks. The Baron shambled forward, holding out one shaking hand. Goo, composed of flesh and bone, oozed from his armor.

Warblade looked away, for a moment losing his anger and feeling guilt over his actions. He heard the sound of Karza crumbling to the floor and clenched his hands into fists. He made eye contact with Zealot and motioned towards her size-changing belt. "You guys bring one of those for me?"

Zealot nodded, moving towards him. "Yes... It is good to see you again, Reno."

Warblade smiled softly. Zannah actually looked like she meant that... Hell, maybe she does. It's been over a year since I've seen the 'Cats. Maybe we've all changed. With some hesitance, he reached out and grasped her arm. She returned the favor, as two warriors greeting one another. "You too, Zannah. You too." With a laugh, he tilted his head towards Manhunter and asked "So... Who's gonna introduce me to the second-rate Grifter over there?"

Siberia

Adrianna knelt in the middle of a bleak field, the temparture around her far below freezing. But the woman known as Void was safe enough, encased in a protective cocoon of energy. If only her heart could be so encased....

Tears fell down her cheeks, pooling on the alien metal that covered her skin. Her breathing was ragged and full of hiccups, each one symbolizing the pain she now felt. For years after her merging with the Orb, she'd been nearly emotionless, never once checking on her father. He'd died for her in the interim. And now, even with the blood of dozens of his captors on her hands, she felt no solace.

She felt a shift in the energy spectrum nearby and looked up to see a man bathed in green hovering before her. He was bald, with a face so brave and so honest that it made her heart skip. "Norrin?"

Norrin Radd, once the herald of Galactus known as the Silver Surfer and current member of the Green Lantern Corps, landed beside her and immediately took her into his arms. "Adrianna... I'm sorry."

She accepted his embrace, letting him hold her until her sobs quieted. Years ago, after her initial transformation, she'd met the silver-skinned hero and found a kindred spirit. They'd become lovers and friends until her growing detachment from humanity had driven a wedge between them. Now, both were human again... of a sort. "Norrin, my father....."

"I know. Pris contacted me."

Adrianna pulled back so she could look into his eyes. "I don't know what I am anymore. Am I still Adrianna? Really? Or am I Void? Or am I... something else?"

Norrin kissed her forehead. "Come with me. The Guardians will not mind if you stay with us briefly. Until you feel more certain of things."

"Will your new lover mind?" Adrianna said, smiling so sweetly that it surprised Norrin. It had been a long time since he'd seen that much expression from her.

"Alicia trusts me. And she knows of our friendship. Will you come with me?"

Adrianna nodded slowly. "Yes... Maybe it's time to stop pining for all the ghosts in my past."

"Then let us go," Norrin whispered. He wrapped one arm around her waist and held her against him as he lifted them into the air. With an emerald glow, they were gone.

Next Issue: The 'Cats get all chatty, as we take break from the action to focus on the dysfunctional family that lives in the Halo Building. Be sure to join us for a very special WildC.A.T.S :-)

Happy Halloween! Hope you're enjoying things and looking forward to upcoming issues. Number 8 is a "character study" and after that, we'll see more of the WildC.A.T.S.' renewed war with the Daemonites.

Barry

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