My name is Jack Reiger. I'm a detective for the Chicago Police Department. I've lived in Chicago all my life. My father was a cop. So was my grandfather. Guess cops run in the Reiger family..

Unfortunately, a cop curse also runs through our family. Both my father and grandfather were killed while on-duty. Obviously, since I'm talking to you, I haven't been killed yet. But I have a feeling that's all going to change.

Because right now, I'm fucked.

I came down here because of a tip that a drug shipment was going down tonight. And sure enough, something's definitely going down. The shipment didn't come from a boat or a plane or a truck. It just... appeared. Out of thin air. How it did that, I have no clue. Before I could do anything about it though, this bald guy in a suit appeared in my backseat. I have no clue how he got there, the doors were locked. And I didn't hear anyone outside the car. But then, something really strange happened. I aimed my gun at him, and suddenly... it appeared in his hand.

That brings us to the hear and now. I'm against some guy who can apparently make things vanish and reappear.

Which means I'm fucked.

"Get out of the car," he ordered, while still aiming the gun at me. "I'm not going to ask you again."

I open the door and put my hands in the air. I look back to the car, but he's gone.

"Looking for me?"

I turn around, and he's there again. Christ, how the hell does he do that?

"C'mon, let's go," he says.

I fucking hate these superpowered freaks.

"Malcolm! Randall! Seek cover NOW! That's an order!"

"Sorry sir," Malcolm had replied. "You're too--"

He was going to say important. Randall? He didn't even get a chance to scream. The firefight lasts an eternity. All the time it takes to destroy a life--several lives.

Body armor protected me from the worst of it--but the boys...

"Malcolm...?" he asked, looking down at his charge.

"Just doing our job, sir," Malcom replied. "Just... our job."

"At ease, son. At ease."*

(* Excerpted from Marvel's Uncanny X-Men #287-Dino)

Bishop stood and faced the men responsible for this tragedy. He held a futuristic rifle in his hand and cocked it. His eyes began to crackle with energy as he looked down at the men who would soon be among the dead.

"You do realize of course that I'm going to kill you..."

The men all seem to merge into one man. Bishop presses the barrel of the gun against the man's head.

"Get up."

The man got to his feet as Bishop commanded. He lifted up his arms, but then he jumped back and fell into Bishop. His head extended out from Bishop's chest and he looked directly into Bishop's eyes. And he smiled.

"You shouldn't have come, Bishop," said Mountjoy.

Bishop cried out in anger and somehow he was able to grip Mountjoy's head. He pulled the villain out from his chest and shoved the barrel into Mountjoy's chest. Then he pulled the trigger.

He turned around, and suddenly, he found that he was dressed in a suit. He stood on a small, grassy hill overlooking a tiny cemetary. A hand came to rest on his shoulder and he turned to see the face of his former teammate, Storm.

"You couldn't have saved her."

"I know that."

"Then why do you torment yourself?"

"I... I don't know..."

He slowly walked forward, and the graveyard which once seemed far was now suddenly close. He kneeled down before a single gravestone and placed a white rose before it. He ran his fingers across the name.

PAMELA GREENWOOD

"Storm..." he said. "This isn't right... Pam isn't dead."

"Isn't she, Bishop?" asked Storm. "Isn't she?"

"No... she's not," replied Bishop. "I just saw her. This... this was from Rogue's funeral."

"That may be so, but it doesn't change the fact that Pamela is indeed dead," said Storm. "She was merely an identity assumed by Fatale. And now, Fatale is dead."

"No... she wasn't Fatale..." said Bishop.

"How do you know she is telling the truth?"

"I... I..."

"Think about that, Bishop. Think about it long and hard."

"Enough!" exclaimed Bishop. he spun on his heels and gripped Storm's arms. "What's going on here?"

"You tell me, Bishop," she said. Her skin suddenly became Caucasian and her hair shifted to a darker color.

"You... you're not Storm..." he muttered. He stepped back slowly, inch by inch, and ended up tripping over the gravestone. His head fell in front of another one, and he looked up to see what the name read.

BISHOP

I awake with a start.

I turn and look over at the clock.

11:43.

After I spoke with Pam, I had decided to turn in early and get some sleep. Unfortunately, my subconscious had other things in mind. Pulling the sheets from my body, I climb out of bed and walk out of the small bedroom.

The next room is the main office. I look down at the papers scattered all over the desk. Most of them contain information on Reiger's life. If I'm going to be working with this man, I need to know what kind of man he is. Otherwise, this will all be for naught.

The dreams have been haunting me ever since Rogue's funeral. At this rate, I may have to try and devise a way to live without sleep. Each night, the dream changes. But each night, it ends the same way.

A woman with long, brown hair and my gravestone.

This time, there was mention of Pam. She told me she had been having odd dreams as well.* I wonder if there could possibly be a connection between the two events. They don't seem completely unrelated.

(* Last issue - Dino )

Some would say it is possibly paranoia. But after all I've been through in my life, I've come to learn that there is no such thing as paranoia. What many people call paranoia I call awareness.

I look down at the unfolded napkin laying on the desk. There is a phone number scribbled on it. Pam gave it to me. She said she gets off of work at 11, which would mean she's home now. I shouldn't bother, though. It's useless to try and get involved with her. Logic dictates that I keep her as far away as possible.

But some things... some things are beyond logic. And in a situation like this, all my years of training and experience are being ignored in favor of something which I know is totally irresponsible of me.

I pick up the phone and dial.

"Any luck?"

"Nothing yet. He's a hard one to crack."

"Then try harder."

"Listen Shaw, I'm very flattered that you invited me to join your Hellfire Club," said Martinique. "But understand that I'm here under my own terms. And I expect to be treated with respect."

"We all have a part to play," said Shinobi. "Right now, Porter is performing his task. That means, it's time for you to begin your task."

"It's not that simple, Shaw."

"Nothing ever is."

"Detective Jack Reiger," said Porter as he read off the badge he teleported from Reiger's pocket. "Chicago PD."

He closed the badge and it vanished from the palm of his hand.

"Well Detective, it seems like you stumbled into one of those wrong places at the wrong time."

"You can't get away with this," said Reiger. "You think no one's gonna notice several crates full of drugs just appearing?"

"Drugs?" asked Porter. "Who said anything about drugs?"

"Don't bullshit me. I know what's going on here."

"No," said Porter. "See, you don't."

He snapped his fingers and one of his men handed him several sheets of paper. Porter tossed them at Reiger.

"Read those," he said. "We have official clearence to be here. Everything we're doing here is perfectly legal. If you've got a problem with it, then you can talk to our employer."

"And who would that be?" asked Reiger.

"Shinobi Shaw," replied Porter. "We're transporting important equipment to Shaw Industries. And Mr. Shaw is thinking of moving his official headquarters in Chicago. Now if you still want to pursue this, you come back here with a warrant, and then we'll talk."

"You turned a gun on me," said Reiger. "You threatened me, that's grounds for an arrest."

"No, I didn't threaten you, and I didn't turn a gun on you," said Porter. "Mainly because I don't have a gun. You do."

Reiger noticed that the gun was no longer in Porter's hand. He reached inside his jacket and found the gun holstered.

"The only fingerprints on that weapon are yours," said Porter. "Not one shot has been fired. And no one here saw anyone turn a weapon of any sort on you. Face it, Detective... you're outgunned."

"Nice choice of words..." said Reiger. "I'll be back."

"I very much look forward to it," said Porter.

The phone rings several times. And with each ring, my patience wears a little thinner. With each ring, the urge to hang up the phone and to just forget about the situation grows.

But I don't. I remain on the line for what seems like forever. Finally, my patience begins to reach the breaking point, and I'm prepared to hang it up. Before I do, however, a voice on the other end answers.

{{ Hello? }}

"It's Bishop."

{{ Oh hi! Sorry, I just got in, I had to stay a little late. }}

"No problem."

A couple of minutes of an uncomfortable silence hangs in the air as both of us try to figure out what to say next. Each one waiting for the other to make the first move.

{{ So... what's up? }}

"I was thinking of your offer."

{{ And...? }}

"And I would..."

Before I can finish my sentence, I hear banging on the door.

"Bishop, open up!"

{{ You would what? }}

"Bishop, it's Reiger! This is important!"

{{ What's going on over there? }}

"I have to call you back."

{{ Wait... }}

I hang up the phone. Then, I open a drawer in my desk and pull out a gun. Nothing very fancy, but just enough to get the job done should I need it.

I open the door, and Reiger walks right in. There's a cigarette dangling from his lips and he seems disturbed about something. But I can't tell what.

"What happened?" I ask.

"I got a tip-off," he begins. "About this drug shipment coming in. So I go down there and check it out. Only... thing is, there's nothing. No trucks, no planes, no trains, and since Chicago is landlocked aside from Lake Michigan, I already know there won't be any boats. But then, a weird thing happens. Several large crates just... appear. Out of nowhere. I thought I was losing my mind. And then, this guy, this bald guy... he appears in my car, and he makes my gun... I dunno, vanish and reappear in his hand. And then he's got official paperwork saying that he's officially working for Shaw Industries, and that he's transporting stuff from Shaw's office in New York to his new office in Chicago."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Whatever was in those crates, it sure as hell wasn't office equipment," he says. "And if it was, they wouldn't be transporting it in the dead of night with several armed guards surrounding the area. Also, the very fact that he made it appear out of thin air, what the hell does that mean? So basically, I'm hiring you to investigate it."

"Why me?"

"Because you can get into places that I can't. I can pay you."

"I'll need full access to any resources you may have."

"Done."

"Good."

I lower my gun, and sit down in one of the chairs.

"Now then, you mentioned Shaw Industries?"

"Yeah. Apparently, Shinobi Shaw wants to move the official headquarters to Chicago."

"Hmm..."

"Something wrong?"

"No... just thinking... You said this man was bald and that he could make things vanish?"

"Yeah... why?"

"Something is happening," I tell him. "And if a Shaw is involved, then that means things can only get worse."

NEXT: Bishop investigates Shaw Industries—but will he get more than he bargained for?