Try to picture this, if you can: It's late at night, all your friends are at home, having a good time, while you're stuck in the middle of a lonely, dark street. The sky has just been blanketed by a dull, pitch blackness, so thick that you can hardly see your hand right in front of you. Some strange men in a car have been chasing you for the past few hours. You're soaking wet, dirt and soot is covering your skin, and you're running for your life. The men in the car are born killers and you haven't a chance against them. Maybe, now, you have the slightest feeling of how the Alphan called Puck feels right now.

The hour has just tolled midnight-- the witching hour-- in this ol' towne of Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. Luna, our dearest moon, is shining above, casting a brillant shadow of light over the heart of the sky, the only thing that is illuminating the terrifying streets. Eugene Milton Judd, with more sweat pouring down his rough-an'-tough face as the temperature of the humidity rises to the fore, races down one of the main streets. Banks, hotels and little shops tower above his dwarfish, mishapen body. His eyes are flooded with tears, blood and dirt, while callusses litter his feet and hands. His heart skips a lot of beats and hurts like the dickens, while at the same exact time, his lungs :twist, almost at the point as if they would burst. He now knows the feeling people have when they have a severe case of asthma.

A couple of blocks away, a non-descript aqua-blue Ford Tempo screeches to a halt. Judd can hear, all the way from his present position, that the driver is talking to the other occupants. He hears him shout orders of killing the damn midget, as they call him. His heart skips more beats and fear trinkles through his system. This actually may be his last stand.

All at once, the ignition of the car roars to life like a wild animal and the driver floors the gas pedal. He has to be going about forty or fifty when he makes a swift right turn into the same street that Judd is in now.

As his stubby legs pump against the chrome-filled pavement, thoughts of his love, Heather, spin across his mind. He wishes that he were in Edmonton right now and she in his arms. He wants with all his heart to feel her soft body against his.

The Ford Tempo shotguns ten miles per hour and the driver, through the tinted glass and his dark trenchcoat, smiles to himself a haunting grin. BOY, WILL THAT DUMB MIDGET GET IT NOW!! he thinks to himself.

Panicky and waiting for his life to flash across his eyes, Judd clumsily trips over a loose metal crow bar and his face splashes into a puddle of mud. The force of the impact of the fall was so great that twin holes tore his pants and his knees and hands burst into blood. Then, his face twisted around to face his enemies, his eyes and mouth drooping in fear.

The vehicle suddenly screeches to a sudden stop, crashing garbage cans across the street. Slowly, the engine is turned off and the left front door opens, creaking a bit on its way. A man-- with a black trenchcoat-- steps onto the lonely street, his white teeth sparkling from the moon.

"Ya gave us quite a chase there," the man says, blankly.

Not moving in the slightest, Judd remembers the man's name. He heard the others call him Mr. Jaxon. He doesn't even know why he, and his men, are after him.

Jaxon snaps two fingers together. "Men, we got us some work to do." Out of the car, three males climb onto the street. The first is Gardner Fox, able to summon forth his future men. The second is a new version of Smart Alec, the most intelligent man in the world. This version seems quite normal enough. But the third-- he's the strangest of all. His name is Bile and self-explanatory.

"The way I see it," Jaxon says to the shivering dwarf, "you got two choices. The first is that you can surrender right now. The other is that you have fun with us an' fight back. I really hope you choose choice."

His mind becomes a complete blank shortly after that.

"What the hell do you mean we're not gonna try to find her?!!" Madison Jeffries' nose snorts out a couple gusts of air and his eyes flare crimson.

"You heard exactly what I said, grease monkey! I'm co-team-leader and there's no way we're leaving without my say so."

"Then, just say so," he barks out at her.

In retaliation, she raises a finger to his nose, staring hauntingly right at his gorgeous eyes-- and even beyond. "And furthermore, there's no way that I'm going to search half the country for the slut who, time and again, tried to steal my hubbie-to-be!!"

Realization sparks into his mind. "Oh, so that's it. Now, I finally understand."

"You understand nothing."

"You're still holding that stupid grudge against Lil because you still believe that I love her. Well, let me set the record, there's nothing between you and me. What will it take to convince you otherwise?"

"Oh--oh, don't take me for a bloody fool, Madison. Don't tell me that you're not in the least attracted to that sexpot. Look at her face, her hair, her-- well, you get the general idea."

"Okay, okay, you want the truth. Okay, I am attracted to her. If I could have my way, in a second, I would push you aside, and knock her up!!"

Silence overwhelms all of them in the Alpha Complex.

Madison pivots around in a picture-perfect three-sixty degree angle and stomps, like a quickened jogger, to the otherside of the meeting room. As he does this, a strange thought pops into Heather's troubled mind; she had called for this meeting an hour ago and Judd hasn't arrived yet. She hopes that nothing terrible has happened to him. Funny, the more she thinks about it, he didn't come in last night. First Lil, now, poor, sweet Judd?

Before he stops at his body armor near the far window, half words mumble out of his closed mouth, under his breath; "Who does she think she is?" He looks up at the crimson and silver robot that has stood in this same spot for nearly a week. He dimly remembers-- it must have been years ago-- when this thing belonged to his friend, Roger Bochs. His mad brother had nearly destroyed Alpha, when he was forced to transform the old suit into this new, high-tech version. WE'VE BEEN THROUGH A LOT SINCE THEN, HAVEN'T WE, BABY? he muses to himself, feeling drowned in his own silence and deep pondering.

"Phase in," he says, as he leaps into the air. His body tingles with electrical and magnetic energy sparks as he becomes merged with it, his flesh and blood amalgamating with its metallic circiutry. There is a brief flash of white light, refracted backwards through the prism effect.

In mere moments, his voice crackles with computerized electrons. "I dunno about the rest of you lot, but I'm going to rescue our friend, even if ol' Battleaxe disagrees."

A swift breeze wooshes through the room and soon, Box flies through the open window, its drapes billowing from his sudden departure.

Jean-Paul Beaubier drops his Playgirl magazine that he was reading on the couch and runs after him. "Wait for me."

His twin sister, Jeanne-Marie, with her arms folded across her torso, her breasts resting over them-- and her boyfriend, Walter, right behind her, his hands upon her shoulders-- watches as her brother soars in the air with his superspeed after Box. Her eyes fill up with hot irritation and a tear or two trickles down her face.

Heather glares at the two remaining Alphans. Today, she has faced two betrayals and she's afraid that she'll face two more. But, suprisingly enough, they stand their ground, not moving in the slightest, saying nary a word. They try, with all their might, to constrain smiles on their faces, but, ultimately, they fail. Heather gets the general idea of their effort and accepts it. But deep in her heart of hearts, in the depth of her mind's eye, she still hurts and needs the comfort of something that these two people can never bring her. The closing of her bedroom door answers the question of what that is.

Walter and Jeanne-Marie keep the silence and look intently at the deserted meeting hall.

Madison Jeffries soars over the Edmonton skyline. He thinks of Lil and Heather. Why must these two beautiful women always tear him apart? The one is what every man wants--and fantasizes-- a woman to be. The other is what every man most likely gets in life. Maybe not the most gorgeous, maybe she doesn't have the figure that they want, but a bond forms between them that is something special and ;very dear. And they constantly come between him-- and each other.

Behind him, he hears a mini-sonic boom, akin to a plane flying low. Flinching a bit, he turns his head around to see Northstar rocketing towards him, with his civilian attire still on.

"What gives, Jean-Paul?"

He comes to a complete stop mere feet from the huge robot. "Nothing, really. I just hated what Heather was saying and figured I'd give you a hand in finding Lil."

"Bullshit", he spits out. "You just want a chance as leader of the Flight."

"Okay. You got me. Am I now branded for life?"

"Nope." His cold-hearted eyes glare into the Frenchman's face and he lets out a hard cough. "You can tag along, if you want."

"Don't worry, I'm sure we'll find her with no trouble whatsoever."

"The thought never crossed my mind."

Soon, they are two tiny specks on the Canadian horizon.

The memory rushes into him, without pause. It was years ago, the day that he first met Alpha. He had just destroyed the false Guardian when he saw the Flight having a kinda chitchat with this funky guy called th' Beyonder. In two minutes flat, he and the team were transported to their headquarters. It was there that he first laid his eyes on the leader-lady, Heather McNiel Hudson. She was so beautiful with those shades on. Cool and gorgeous. It was love at first sight. Who could destroy that unbridled passion?

"Yo, Jeffries, quit daydreaming!" Jean-Paul flies towards the huge robot, suspended in mid-air.

Madison twists his head to face the annoying Frenchman. "Well, what did ya find out?"

Her eyes snapped open and she was dancing. Gracefully :and arcing with the wind. Madison was holding her tightly against his warm body, as they twirled all around the sparkling room. The soft sounds of Sinatra played continously in the background and they moved with him, creating movements and motions of their own that seemed to go with him and his music.

"This is nice," she said, looking into his brown eyes. "You and me together. No Alpha, no nothing. You and me. No worries." "Yes. It is. Let's not stop."

She buried her head in his chest, which was heaving with his natural intake of air. She felt him within and without, melting in his strong arms and body.

He crossed his legs around hers, bringing her self into his, an arm lifting up her black dress.

"Ohhh, Maddie, hon...."

He nuzzled on her neck, tasting her soft skin.

Her eyes snapped open again and the music stopped, Madison disppearing with the ball room and the dance and their love. It looks like a hospital, she thinks, with its mesmerizing white tiled walls, surrounding her and enclosing her completely. She feels something on her face, tape all around, she can't move, hands legs feet or eyes. She can see but only up and around not down. There must be some kind of tubing up her nose and in her arms, she thinks she can feel the rush of the liquids flooding into her system and blood stream.

A television overhead is on, the news is playing. She &can hear it but not see it, oh never.

"The damage done to nearby Edmonton, Alberta is still extensive. Witnesses and sources are still baffled as to the true cause of the mass fire that broke out two weeks ago. The fire departments and local communities services are still trying to clean up the mess and restore the damaged land. Authorities indicate that Alpha Flight, the single Canadian super-human body based in Toronto, was seen near the start of the fire but eye-witness accounts do not agree with this accussation. This is Neal Conan reporting for NPR-TV News in Edmonton."

Fire? This makes no sense, I don't get it.....

She feels hot air blow all around her nose. She inhales it and the scent, the aroma is sweet and comforting.

"Lilian?"

Oh, Madison, you're here, help me....

She feels his hands on her chest, moving upwards.

"I'll protect you. Always."

Of course, Maddie, I already knew that, I....

The curl of his lips pressed against her closed mouth. A %soft, light kiss and she engulfs him.

Oh, honey, do it, do it, again and again......

The chair rolled in. Her arms and hands were very weak but she mustered some strength, some to push the wheelchair into the tiny room. It was quite different from the white-tiled room of the hospital. She hardly remembers where she is, which city, which country, which planet.

"Can you stand?"

"I don't know," she says, gripping the wheels tightly, as if it embodied her life. "I never tried. I don't--"

Sunlight pierced and streamed in through the open window and the blinds flowing all around like a wild beast. Her skin tingled from the spotlight; she was center stage.

"You must try," the voice continued. "You must. I think you can."

"I-- I--"

"It's all part of the treatment. You'll be quite fine, I assure you."

Her legs felt leaden, two giant bricks holding her down in the chair and affixing her to the floor. There was a slight buzzing annoyance at the base of her skull and her neck stretched and stretched.

She used the handles as braces, braces for support. Get up, goddamn you, you can do it!! Quivering and shivering motions coursing through and without her, she felt as if she was an eptileptic fighting for control of her continous, rapid movements, movements made against her will. Unbidden, uncontrolled.

The strong muscular man with the dark hair and pants and overcoat seemed to hover over her. Like a triumphant eagle, power of mind and soul and body, hovering and devouring her. He watched her struggle, as she tried to release herself from the chair-prison, mustering unknown levels of strength. He smiled when she was free, collapsing into his arms.

"Don't worry, Lilian. It's all right. We're in this together."

Her breathing was heavy and discordant. Breath in, oh yes, breath out...

His hands stroked her thin legs and held onto the bottom of her short blue skirt.

"What are you doing?!"

"We have to make sure that you're not carrying any bugs, y'know crickets, on you. Security precaution, you get the general idea."

There was a breeze of air. A slight one, as her skirt was removed from her, springing down to the floor, dropping to her ankles. She felt the air rush up into her body, as she stood there nearly naked.

He saw her quivering legs. "I will protect you always, Lilian."

She felt the emptiness, the openness, the great amount of space between her legs. Vast, as if it were a gigantic abyss. He reached in to her crotch, feeling around, probing for any kind of listening device. Up and down, all around, side to side, left to right, and back again. He found nothing but still kept on searching and probing and poking and prodding.

She gripped his jacket, in a rapid fury, arcing back, her head swinging behind her, her hair billowing and flowing every which way. Biting down on her lips and tongue and teeth, she moaned, over and over again.

It was pure absolute darkness. Closing and engulfing her, twisting and turning so much so that she felt that she was wrapped in a blanket. Wound tight, oh yes, and kept warm but the cold seeped through, too, chilling her to the bone, and freezing her, making her quiver and shiver and quake. But not the cold alone-- darkness, eternal, infinite, spreading out to all sides and directions and ways and dimensions. First, second, thirdth, fourth and fifth. Breaking time and space, destroying the barriers that separated them all. Spreading out and stretching to a black hole, of emptiness and antigravity and breathlessness, a quasar of her mind exploding, the nexus of her alpha waves strengthening and breaking apart, redefining themselves, and her mind, her inner psyche folding in and of itself, reaching into new depths and summations.

She bucked her head backwards to remove the annoying hair from dangling by her eyes and mouth.

The man with the blue mask, wearing the brown flannel suit, loomed before her, beyond the icy confines of the cage. Its bars felt like iron clothes, wrapping all around her as if it were a straight jacket.

"Oh, Lilian," he mummered beneath his cowl, "I do hope that you are enjoying your stay here."

She gave no response.

"Oh, I must apologize for Kamikaze. He does like you, you know. He likes to play with you, and you are-- well, fitting to his needs."

Her eyes shone brightly of that cobalt blue. She stared into his invisible face, piercing his heart.

"Well, ahem, again how was your trip?"

No response.

"Yes," he droned on, "but if you were thinking, I wouldn't worry about your poor, old and dear Alpha Flight."

Her eyes widened.

"You won't be rescued quite yet. Madison is the only one who actually cares about you, if you live or die."

He said his name!

"Heather leads the team, as you know. And she hates your fucking guts."

He laughed and laughed, gaffawed and chuckled, walking down the nearly endless hallway, back to his private office in the other wing. His leather loafers clicked and clacked on the white tiled floor and dredged on,and on and on, dissapating into nothingness in the distance.

She turned over on her back, lying on the cemented-felt cot. She quickly brushed through her long hair, and dreamt some more. She closed her eyes, softly and lovingly, and dreamt....