Guardian had been held up on the phone for the past two hours with the Prime Minister. They had come to an impasse. There was seemingly no end to this conversation but he knew how it would finish. He just knew.

“What are you saying to me that you want me to create super heroes? Why should that be a concern now since both Solarman and Shang-chi have joined our team in recently. ey are good people. Why should I create super heroes when it is only easier to recruit American heroes?”

“You can’t recruit every American hero. I think it would easier to recruit mutants and paranormals already in Canada. I will let you recruit some more heroes but I would rather you open the doors to just Canadians.”

“That’s very biased, if I may say so.”

“Good-bye, Dr. Hudson.”

-Click-

What a jerk, Hudson thought as he stormed out of his quarters, right into the face of his wife, Heather. She had been eavesdropping on his whole conversation with the P.M. and even though she had only heard tidbits of the one-way talk, she had been able to decipher what was being said.

“You’re not going to do it, are you, hon?” Heather asked him, gently and softly. ”He’s gone crazy, hasn’t he? First, the Canadian Paranormal Act, now this. What does he want from us?”

“I don’t know but he has apparently gone too far this time. I’m going to evade the issue this time and then, if he brings it up again, I’m going to suggest that Gentry have a talk with him to convince him otherwise.”

“Good job, hubbie o’mine.”

They kissed passionately for long moments and then separated.

“I forget,” Heather asked. ”|Is there supposed to be a meeting soon?” 

“Yeh, at nine. Do you know where Snowbird is? I haven’t seen her all week.”   

“She’s with her boyfriend, Dan Thompson. They just need some alone time.”

When the meeting started, Guardian called attention to the group of Alpha Flighters to one new member and two returning members.

“First order of business,” Guardian said, “is the return of two members; Manikin and Persuasion. Kara has been sick for some time but she has recovered. She was gravely injured by the Purple Man, her father, but now she is as good as new. Manikin has also returned to the fold. He was by her side through the whole recovery.”

There were cheers and uproarious applause from all members of the team.

“Now, onto new business… we have a new member that will be brought into our fold. He should be a familiar face from our last battle with Mr. Satan and with helping out the American super heroes like the Thing and Spider-man in the past to fight by their side. He is none other than Shang-chi, the Master of Kung Fu.”

Shang-chi stood up and shook the hands of all the past and new members of the Flight, especially Kamikaze, who he considered an equal, and Solarman, whom he could tell was a little afraid that since Shang-chi was on the team Ben would be thrown out. No such luck. Guardian didn’t operate that way. He had respect for his team-mates, unlike the Prime Minister.

As the Flight greeted past and new members, Guardian brought Gentry aside. “We need to talk.”

“What is it, Dr. Hudson?” Gentry asked gingerly.

“You probably know about this already as you screen all my calls but I had a little talk with the P.M. today. He seemed to want me to create members of the team as I did years ago with Bedlam, the Brain Blast. I don’t want to go that route again. I need you to apply some pressure on him so that I can get him off my back.”

“Sorry about that, Jim. I’ll do what I can.”

They shook hands and separated. Now all James Hudson wanted to do was to enjoy the moment because how long could these happy times could last is anyone’s guess.

Heather Hudson snuggled close to her husband. Her eyes averted from her usual gaze to Narya and Dan Thompson who were otherwise busy. They were concentrating on their own love for one another. They were locked in a kiss, and they did so passionately.

“Y’think, that they could be the next one’s to be married? That would be so romantic.” Heather said, with her head cocked to one side and resting on her husband’s shoulder.

“Admit it, you’re an old softie for romance.”

Acme Chemicals stood like a giant monolith in the bowels of Tokyo. It was a huge factory, probably the biggest in the country.  Its brown covered smoke stacks were like chimneys leading to the grand heavens and the separate buildings that housed the offices like kingdoms where only the wealthiest of the world towered. The smoke that polluted the air which surrounded the factory seemed to fit in this strange city.   

Tokyo was a city where the criminals ruled the land, not the other way around. If you looked at the city itself, you would think that it looked like a warzone. Many newspapers described it as so. The buildings tried to hide the poverty and crime. It didn't work. The factories, on the other hand, only showed the decay.   

Acme Chemicals was the most powerful factory in this city and produced most of the materials and products that made the city function, economically.   

It's no wonder that one day this great powerhouse would fall.   

Acme is now doomed for demolition. It has become too dangerous for people to work in or to service the public. 

It's a giant bomb, ready to explode at any moment.     

In the very center of the factory, workers are trying to clean up the smelting pot of despair and desperation. The factory has many vats of toxic waste that caused many deaths and injuries in the last few months since the problem of the factory was made known. The workers are afraid that they might die in this terrible place. The chemicals alone could cause people to think twice about getting a job here.   

But what makes this factory even worse is that all of the workers were actually criminals. They worked for a man called Shadowhunter, who was created in this factory. He is gone, but no one fired the workers.   

One of the criminal workers stands on a platform and stirs a long tube in a vat of toxic waste. A few minutes ago, he placed a solution into that vat that would strengthen the potency of the chemical. His new boss told him to do this. He said, "Before this place is closed down, I will make it the most hazardous to the people. It is no hard task to just ship the chemicals to a new factory."    

As the worker-- we shall call him Craig-- struggles with the heavy tube, an odd sound reverberates through the place. It is like the stomping of hard leather boots on metal.   

Craig looks around, afraid of what that sound is. He has heard it before whenever Kamikaze arrives. Kamikaze is some kind of vigilante who beats up on any criminal he likes. 

Craig worries when he realizes he is a criminal, too.    

The sound comes closer.     

The tube shakes in his hand. He thinks that Kamikaze will kill him. Those are the rumors-- that Kamikaze, now, just kills people. He shows no mercy. Craig lets goes of the tube, which falls into the vat and seems to disappear.     

He looks at his hands. They are shaking a mile a minute. 

He is scared stiff. He is doomed.   

The sound of leather boots gets closer to old Craig. Then another sound catches his attention. It is a whooshing sound-- like something or someone flying through the air.   

Old Craig turns around when the sounds become too unbearable, his shaking getting all the worse.       

He looks up and he is here.   

Twin black, leather fists grab Craig's jacket and lifts him up above. The fists are tightly clenched.   

"Who-- who are you, man?!" Craig yells, half thinking that this is his death-sign.     

The man's voice is raspy at first. "I'm Kamikaze!"   

Kamikaze lifts old Craig even higher and then, throws him over his head. Craig slams against a metallic wall. His head rings and his whole body hurts.   

"I thought this factory was closed for demolition! What are you doing here?" Kamikaze peers into Craig's old beaten up eyes.  "You have no right being here. That displeases me!"   

Kamikaze takes out a gun and points it at old Craig. His hand tightens on the trigger. "And you must be punished, scuzz-bucket!"

Craig quivers even worse than before. Kamikaze was going to kill him. He was sure of that. This was going to be his last day of living. Then, he spots it. A crow bar just lying no more than a foot from him. If he gets it, Kamikaze is finished.   

Kamikaze pulls the trigger of his gun and a rope snakes out of the barrell. The wire-like rope wraps around old Craig's body, pulling all of his limbs closer together.     

Craig is now a few inches away from the crow bar.   

At the ends of the rope are hooks that attach themselves to the bar by the wall behind him. The hooks pull Craig against the wall.     

The crow bar seems so far away.   

Craig stretches with all of his might to reach the crow bar. His arm hurts. He has never exercised so much punishment on himself just to get a weapon. The bar is barely from his hands.

Kamikaze thinks of how some people are calling him psychotic now. They say that he is no more worse than Shadowhunter was-- before he disappeared. He hears a scuffling of movement, but ignores it.

A hard metal object hits Kamikaze in the face. He gets dizzy, disoriented and confused. He wobbles back and forth. 

To save himself from falling, he grabs ahold of the railing.

He looks down. It is the vat of green liquid. The end all of toxic disaster.   

The dizziness increases and Kamikaze tips over and he falls straight down. Right for the vat of green liquid. On the way down, as his heart increases, beats faster and faster, he touches a button on his belt. The sound of machinery echoes in his ears.

Kamikaze plunges into the vat. It takes no time at all for the liquid to engulf and surround him. It bubbles at first, and then, calms down. The wave is gone. It is still, silent.

There are no guards watching the great factory. Since it is scheduled for demolition, no one figures that anyone would enter it.  There are very wrong.   

Not a lot of people may be in the factory but there are many cars parked in the lot. One very specific car would catch anyone's attention. This car is called the Alphamobile.   

Its engines roar to life and it starts to accelerate towards the factory. The Alphamobile exits the parking lot and heads for the factory itself. It crashes through the gates. The wires are all bent out of place. They could never be replaced. But it doesn't matter now.   

The Alphamobile soars until the computer "sees" the huge monolith that makes the city's most powerful chemicals. 

"Defensive mode," the computer whirrs to itself.   

Out of the sides of the sports car, a hole opens and machine gun barrels fly out. The computer cocks the weapons and fires. Bullets spray through the air and hits the front door of the factory. The gun keeps on firing even though the door doesn't collapse, just yet.   

The Alphamobile looms at the door and finally, releases a torpedo. It strikes right on the mark and explodes. The door makes a creaking noise and falls down. Obstacle one is done with.

The car stops when it enters the huge factory. As if it had a mind of its own, the computer surveys its surroundings. The car pauses and then revves to life, again. 

If it had a mind, it would think, Where is Kamikaze?     

Kamikaze was nowhere to be seen.      

Old Craig struggled with his bonds. He couldn't get free. They were getting tighter and tighter each time he tried to break out. What should he do? He realized that maybe if he rubbed the rope against the hooks that they were attached to, maybe he could rip them apart. Maybe.   

Craig motioned himself to the hooks. He shifted his body-- difficult as it was-- and rubbed his ropes at them. One part of the first hook got a hold of the ropes around his hands. He rubbed up and down. The ropes started to shred.     

After long minutes of trying, the ropes around both of his hands broke apart. He was almost free.   

He stood up. He tried to walk. He could do it. Barely.  It was hard to move but he could do it a little.     

Before he was taking little steps. Aw, what the hell? Are you a sissy or what, Craig? Why couldn't he take bigger steps? He dragged his right foot a step larger than before. He could do this. He could. He then fell on the metal catwalk. Or maybe he couldn't.   

He braced his hands on the floor and tried to get up. A leather boot stomped on one of his hands, crushing his fingers. He looked up and it was Kamikaze with a nearly invisible plastic substance over his mouth and nostrils. It looked like a gas mask.

Kamikaze grabbed old Craig by the jacket, again, and lifted him up in the air.   

"I don't like people who try to kill me, punk!!" Kamikaze was now furious. "You should reconsider your actions before I really hurt you!"   

Old Craig laughed at him. "Oh, yeah. Well, maybe I have problems but that gives you no right to tell me otherwise. But that is your job, right? To punish the evildoers without hearing their side of the story first." When old Craig didn't hear a reply, he continued. "But then, it wasn't me who got humiliated by Shadowhunter, huh? It was you and he burnt you bad."   

Kamikaze let him go and placed him nicely on the catwalk.    Old Craig was on a roll. "C'mon, Kamikaze, kill me. I dare you. That's what you do best, right?" Old Craig paused. Kamikaze looked mad but he didn't say anything. "Shadowhunter isn't really dead, you know that? He can come back. And when he does, he'll really do you in. What do you say to that, huh, Kamikaze?"   

Kamikaze turned around. He was being talked down by a punk. Now, this was humiliating. He could stand it no more. He whispered," Shut up!"     

"Ha. Kamikaze is dead and finished!"    

"Shut up!"    

"Long live..."    

"Shut up!"   

Kamikaze takes out a boomerang and hurls it. Craig didn't even bother to notice it was there. He just continued with his ranting and raving.    

".... Shadowhunterrrrr--"   

The boomerang sliced at old Craig's neck. The weapon was embedded in the metal wall, while Craig's head was on the floor. His body slumped to the catwalk, seconds later. Craig was dead.

Old Craig.        

Kamikaze knew it for certain now. Shadowhunter was back. This factory was a front for the Yakuza. Was his dear, old friend back and now working for the Japanese mob? Could it be true?