My name is Ken Connell. I’m in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I’m with my girlfriend, Barb, having fun. She has a couple kids from her first marriage. Now she’s divorced and one day she'll be all mine.

Reality shifts and I’m at Zayre’s Auto Body Shoppe. This is where I work. I haven’t seen Barb in a week. I come to work to forget about Barb.

Reality shifts and I’m in the middle of a dirt road riding my motorcycle. There, I see an old man. He gives me a tattoo that rubs off his hand and he says I have to use it wisely. It is called the Star Brand and it does whatever its wearer can imagine. I'm thrown aback.

Reality shifts and I’m above earth. I tried to be a superhero for a while on the Duck’s and Myron’s suggestions. It hasn’t worked out that much. I decide to bring a broken dumbbell with me and transfer the Star Brand to it. It doesn’t work. I destroy Pittsburgh.

Reality shifts and I’m at the Pitt. Everyone who ever possessed the Star Brand is there. The Star Child, my son, the Old Man, and Jacob Burnley. We fuse into one body, the ultimate Ken Connell. We end the War. Peace on earth. Yeah, right.

Reality shifts and I’m in Washington, DC with Judge Justice. He tells me that I made a lot of mistakes and I have to rectify them. I say alright because I’m sick of this running around. He gives me my Star Brand jacket back.

Ken Connell wakes up from his dream. This was the third time he has had some weird dreams about his past. He wonders who causes it or when it will all end. The last two dreams had Justice in them. Is he the cause? Can he enter people’s dreams and influence them and the people who dreamt them? He would have to look into them.

He turns over in his bed. Jenny Swensen is sound asleep. He has taken a strong liking to her since she decided to join the team. The last time he saw her was years ago when she was in jail. He helped her but had to wreck the MAX suit that the Troubleshooters had operated. He thinks they are falling in love again.

Suddenly, the loud speaker is activated. “Connell, Swensen, come to the meeting room. We need to discuss our next mission.”

Ken rolls over to get dressed. It seems almost a shame to wake her up in such a peaceful state.

They both enter the meeting room moments later.

“Okay, agents Connell and Swensen, we contacted Eugene Proudhawk. He seems to have the ability to become a second Psi-hawk but Michael Proudhawk, a third Psi-hawk, is attacking his reservation. We need to stop him and get Gene. You people know what to do…”

National Security Council, in Washington, DC. Dr. Myron Wilburn, administrative director, scans the room. Everyone who is anyone is here, he thinks to himself. The whole entire staff. The meeting is about to be underway.

The whole room grows dark. Lights out, the presentation can truly begin. A sharp stream of white light jettisons from a working projector and hits squarely on the screen behind him. Pictures begin to take form. A man in rags. Black hair, light complexion. Quite handsome to a lot of the ladies present. Schematics about his physicality appear abruptly on the screen. He smiles, as he uses the wooden yard stick as a pointer.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen," he speaks to them, in his deep, commanding voice. "This is one of the only photographs that we have on the subject called 'Third Psi-hawk'. He is not privy to having his picture taken, as you can surely guess. He is very powerful and very dangerous. Please, use extreme caution in his speedily apprehension." 

The audience buzzes like bees. They want more. More information. More data. Give it to us, here and now. 

He complies. "Okay, ladies and gentlemen, here is the deal. This 'Psi-hawk'... creature was found in the Woodstock woods a few weeks back. He is searching for the Psi-force children.

"Your job, people, is to -- simply-- retrieve what was lost from us. Comprehende?" 

They shake their heads in the affirmative and sting alive. What a terrible lot these paranormals be.

Wilburn gestures and the projector shut itself off, the white light disappearing. Quickly following that, the main generators kick in. Thank goodness, that the all-encompassing darkness has passed. 

She cuts the sky like a scythe. Her jet thrusters launch her into the air and she soars in the heavens, like a creature of the night. Her crimson-hued armor shines majestically in the clouds, the sun reflecting and re-reflecting off of it.

Her name is Codename: Spitfire and by quickly viewing her form, one can tell that she is definitely of the human race. She is thin and she has red hair. Her beauty is stunning. Again, she spreads her arms out, and she gains more and more altitude. God, she loves it up here. Washington is so far below. But she does not care, only the thrill of the flight does.

They all wave to her. They realize that she needs this adventure. They have had many adventures these past few months, more than they have had in their entire life. 

"Okay, show's over, gang,” Judge Justice says, turning his head to the ground. "It's time that we earned our own adventure. Spitfire can earn hers in her own fashion. Me, well, I'm in the mood t'relax fer the moment."

Angela Tensen faces him, agreeing with his sentiments. "Yeah. I guess that you're right." She taps on Victor's shoulder. "C'mon, people." 

Silent, Victor and Angela turn away and start to enter their apartment building, their home away from home.

The screen door swings closed behind them. Victor embraces Angela around her waist and brings her forth to his body. David Landers smiles to himself, a little bit embarrassed, and walks over to a table full of drinks, while Randy O’Brien excuses himself.

"See ya, Rand-man," Victor says. He brings his mouth to Angela's ear and whispers, "Guess we all have t'relax in our own way." He nibbles on her lobes and she giggles.

"Stop it, it tickles so much. HAHAHAH. Stop."

"Geez, ya don' haveta yell, y'know." 

"Sorry," she apologizes with a coy smile on her face.

"Kids," Dave says under his breath as he slaps himself on the couch. He presses a button or two on the remote control and the television set comes alive with various programs. 

Click. A news program about the deficit, drugs, and the least reviewed news item, HUD. Click, Sesame Street. Click. The Flinstones. Click. Oprah. Click. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Click. Yes. This is what he wanted. Growing Pains. Now, this is a quality television show. Something that appeals to all crowds and all of the kinds of dark emotions stored up within you that is waiting for a quick, clean release.

He indulges in the show. Now, he is truly satisfied. This is how to spend a nice day. A coach potato. The American form of relaxation.

In a corner of the family room, Victor drinks some soda. Angela smiles. "If I haven't said so before," he comments, "I really like your outfit."

Angela smiles that same coy smile. She looks at her black heavy metal shirt with her leather pants. "Thanks," she says. "I really appreciate it." 

"I know." Victor brings her body closer to his. Their pants and shirts touch. His chest firms up against hers. Brushing through her orange hair, he kisses her. Not a hard one, but a soft one. A kiss that any girl would die for. She wraps her arms around his waist, as he lowers his to her butt.

Dave snorts through his nose. He wishes that they could, at least, do that someplace else. They are, y'know, kinda ruining the program. It just isn't the same.

Randy O’Brien enters the sub-basement in the house. It's all to himself. No one disturbs him. (No one dares, for fear of what horror they might unleash.) Sometimes -- it's more on the usual side -- that he sleeps down here, in the midst of some great experiment that he was working on the night before.

Recently, though -- in the past few days -- he has set up a cot by his work table, just in case something like that happens again. On his single bookshelf, there are stacked full of many medical books, most of them he bought when he was in college. Some he bought from charity benefits and others from church -- the time that they have those fun sales on books. Scattered all over his desk, called work table by some, there are his numerous journals that he has accumulated over the past couple of years.

He opens the latest of his daybooks -- marked, "Sept. 1989 - June 1990". He starts to write today's entry: 

Feb. 3, 1990 

Ken and Jenny are off on an adventure together to retrieve the third Psi-hawk, while Dr. Wilburn has advised us that we may be on call to bring him into custody.

For me, though, I am staying at the NSC's resident home base in Washington, DC. The rest of the team have also decided to follow my example.

Over the past few months, I have noticed that my superhuman powers have taken a weird turn of events lately. Usually, or so I thought, my powers allowed me to open a temporary doorway and whoever passed through it, where the portal is, will be directly voyaged to their point of destination. A few months ago, my close friend, Dave Landers has passed through the portal and ended up where one of my tiny antibodies were. Ken Connell had to retrieve him. I thought I had lost him forever.

His pen is gently placed on the table. He closes the book with a hard slam. 

'Oh, God, why oh why did this have to happen to me, of all times? We were just getting started in the world. We had failed at our various careers, but we kept close our skills and talents. We used them carefully to help us cope with our new abilities. We forged ourselves into a prime fighting team. And now, when we succeeded against some petty criminals, we're falling apart. Because if one team member starts to lose control, then we shall surely die and we'll be back where we started from. No where.' 

His face falls into his hands and some tears stream from his reddened and irritated eyes. He hates this. He just wishes that everything would go back to when life was so easy. 

There's a sudden knock at the door. He turns and says, "Come in."

The white painted door creaks open and he sees Angela Tensen enter. She brushes through her orange hair and clears her throat.

"Um...er.... Randy, you have a visitor here. Says he's here to interview you." 

"Really?" He pauses. "By all means, let him in." 

"Sure. Whatever you say." 

Angela leaves suddenly and a Native American man dressed in a brownish three-piece suit lets himself in. His spiked hair waves in the breeze and he closes the door behind him.

"Yes?" Randy retorts as he cleans the journals and books off of his desk and pulls up a chair. 

The man extends his hand and Randy stands to shake it firmly. "Hello," he says, "My name is Michael Proudhawk and I'm here from the New York Times." 

"Hmm. You seem to be a little out of your usual element, don't you think?"

"Yes. That is true. We usually don't come to this part of the country, but we are very interested in you." He smiles when he realizes that he has piqued Randy's curiosity. "Y'see, we kind of followed you when you were a doctor for the Clinic for Paranormal Research. And we are kind of pleased when we found out that you have become a full-fledged agent of the government. We would like to know how your two careers interact with each other." 

"Sure. I'd be glad to." Excited at his new attention, he tries to find some lose papers, which have on them some of his experiments that he performed recently that is interrelated with his government career. 

Michael Proudhawk places his notebook that he had under his arm on the floor and approaches the psyched-up Randy. "But, before we begin, I would like to ask you a question." 

"Yes?" he says as he continues his light quest. 

"I heard that your agency has contacted the Psi-force children. Is that true?" 

What? "Yes. But what does that--?!" 

"Oh, 'cos yer gonna join them in hell now." 

Michael Proudhawk -- AKA the third Psi-Hawk -- places both of his hands onto Randy's shoulders. Energy crackles within him. A genetic switch is thrown and then the impossible happens. Power that has long been neglected and denied is suddenly run amok. Paranormal chromosomes that have long been dormant are awakened and Randy wishes that he was dead. The room-- in fact, the entire house-- is miraculously blanketed with a thick, deep bland of blackness and the electricity that powered it is sucked away. There is an up coming explosion. Shards of wood and metal alike flood the street and evil runs its rightful course. 

Randy O’ Brien screams within his mind as a huge portal is opened and everything that is anything is brought within him. Brain cells die and mutated cells activate when laughter haunts him. His stomach twists in and of itself as simultaneously, radioactivity spread across the wide spectrum is unleashed in one heartfelt moment. And then, everything that is anything dies. 

The portal within the Proudhawk reservation opens and two paranormals exit it; Michael Proudhawk and Randy O’Brien. Waiting for the third Psi-hawk to return to the reservation are Starbrand, Spitfire, Gene Proudhawk, and the remainder of the Psi-force children.

“I’ll try to push him to go home or go into a coma again,” Wayne Tucker says, as the forces of his mind enter Michael’s mind, trying with all of his might to push him into oblivion. His psi-power lances out.

“Your puny ‘push’ power means nothing to me, boy,” Michael says, as he takes out the medallion and lets out the third Psi-hawk. It glows in dark colors and hovers over the Psi-force children. Michael uses Kathy Ling’s telekinesis to make any and all objects that are not bolted down to fly about the place.

“How did he get Hawk’s medallion?” Wayne asks. “I thought we lost that forever.”

Thomas Boyd races towards the distracted Michael Proudhawk, trying to leech out his psi-power with his vampire touch. But the Psi-hawk uses Mikey ‘Creepy’ Crawley’s power to cause a psyrotechnic explosion to throw him back.

“I’ll strafe the bastard,” Spitfire says, as she arms herself with her built-in armor machine gun to fire at the Psi-hawk but Kathy Ling’s telekinesis again protects him and his host to redirect the bullets back at Spitfire, damaging the armor. She needs repairs badly.

Gene Proudhawk causes himself to create a second Psi-hawk, this one similar to the one that his brother Emmett helped create for the Psi-force children. They battle in the air, each throwing their own brand of psi-powers back at each other. It is an even stalemate, because Gene is new at this type of paranormal game. He can be easily defeated.

Ken Connell hurls a Starbrand blast at Michael Proudhawk’s head, just grazing it, as he falls into unconsciousness. The evil Psi-hawk fades back into Michael’s mind.

Gene returns to the ground, as his psi-hawk disappears also.

Ken extends his hand to Gene. “We would like you and Psi-force to join the NSC. There is a lot of good you can do in the world.”

“I would be honored.”