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DISCLAIMER

1) This material is not used for monetary profit in any manner.  It is
done solely for enjoyment purposes, and as homage to the great stories
and characters of Marvel Comics Group

2)  All  the  characters,  events,  and locations portrayed within are
recognized as property of Marvel Comics Group should they so wish.

3)  This  story  has been written by Samy Merchi <samerc@mash.yok.utu.fi>.  Any
commentary  in  the  form  of compliments or critique is welcomed, and
eagerly hoped for.  So go ahead and drop me a line telling me what you
thought, okay?  It'll make my day.  ;)
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                            THE TWELVE #4

                        "Declarations Of War"

                         WRITER: Samy Merchi
                       EDITOR-IN-CHIEF: Kingbob

   Los Angeles, 2 AM.  Not one of the safest places in the world.  Not
one  of the nicest, either, particularly in this neighborhood.  On the
edge of one of the latin 'Hoods, the night was starting to calm down a
little,  the  noisy parties, drinking and fights starting to fade into
more...subtle businesses of the darkness.
   The  buildings were mostly old, and decrepit, as if no one bothered
to  keep them in shape.  The streets were illuminated by streetlights,
of which no more than every other was working, giving most of the area
an  eerie  feel,  coupled  with  the falling silence, it was as if the
night was -waiting- for something.
   Kicking  a beercan on the sidewalk, Angelo Espinosa walked onwards,
not  knowing  where  to  go.   He  was  a fugitive from the law and he
definitely couldn't go home.  That would be the first place the police
would look.  What about any of his friends?  Does he want to drag them
into this?  Does he have the -right- do drag them into this?  Yes.  He
has  the  right  to drag them into this.  It's the rule of brotherhood
that  their  gang  shared.  He had done his part to help others in the
past,  now  it  was their turn to help him.  But no, he didn't want to
drag them into this.  Angelo was a loner.  He didn't dump his problems
on other people.  He was one of those men that kept everything bottled
up inside, and kept going no matter what.
   So  maybe  the  best  solution would be to go away for a while.  He
would call his mother right in the morning and let her know he was all
right.  Not that he couldn't be a hell of a lot better.  The rain kept
strumming a restless beat all over him, and he brushed his hand across
his face to wipe off some of the wetness.
   As  he  did this, he noticed something curious.  o O (My skin looks
really pale), he thought, his eyes narrowing to look at the hand.  o O
(I  must  have  been  more scar...worried than I thought.) Letting his
hand go back to his side, he took a glance around the streets.
   o  O  (That  chica  isn't  from  here),  he instantly thought.  The
tip-off  wasn't  the  screaming  blonde hair, nor the light, caucasian
skin  tone, but rather the walk.  The attitude.  Angelo had learned to
observe people from when he was very young, and was -very- good at it.
   The  girl  walked  on  the  other  side  of the street from Angelo,
looking  like  she owned the whole damn 'Hood.  But Angelo noticed the
unsure undertones that ninety-nine out of a hundred would have missed.
She  kept  her  head looking forward, expertly, and only kept glancing
around  with  her eyes.  But she kept glancing around and that was the
first tip-off to Angelo.  The second was that she was tense, ready for
anything.   There are minute differences that you can make in the walk
of  a  tense person and the walk of a sloppy person.  That also seemed
to  tell  Angelo  that  she wasn't just any city girl.  This one was a
street girl, but not from around here.
   She started blowing a pink bubble from her mouth, but as she passed
an  alleyway,  she was interrupted by two men coming out of the alley,
right  in  front  of  her.   They started circling her and pushing her
towards  the  alleyway, shooting some remarks about her appearance and
her not belonging here with a teasing tone.
   Angelo  instantly knew this was trouble.  Was it his trouble?  Hell
yes.   This  was his 'Hood and he kept it clean.  That was, after all,
why  he  was  in  so much trouble right now.  His hand inconspicuously
slid  under  the waist of his jeans, then around to the back under her
leather coat to check if he still had the gun.
   He did.  He watched the girl be slowly taken into the alley, and he
ran  across  the street silently, halting by the corner leading to the
alley, out of sight.
   There  were  more  voices  coming  from the alley, Angelo estimated
about  half a dozen men to harass the poor girl, and his eyes narrowed
as  he decided to listen in for a while.  After all, it's possible the
girl  was  a  girlfriend  or  sister of someone in the alley.  But his
instincts told him otherwise.
   So did the comments that started ringing out of the alley soon, not
even trying to be quiet, knowing there was no one around to interfere.
   "Lookit her, Chaz.  She got a nice bod."
   "Whatcha doin' here, Blondie?  This ain't your kinda 'Hood."
   "Yeah.  You gotta pay a toll for crossin' our streets."
   "Ain't gonna be no money toll, either."
   "You be nice t' us, Blondie, maybe we let you go alive."
   "Yeah.  -Real- nice."
   "You gonna have a good time tonight, Blondie..."
   "I always wanted to do a white chica."
   "Well, you gonna have to wait a while longer, man.  I got 'er now."
   The  girl's  voice interrupted the chaotic conversation between the
men.   "You  wish!  Now lemme go!!" she demanded and there were sounds
of  struggling  and slight chuckling from the alley.  Angelo tensed up
and prepared to move in.
   "Okay, let the girl go, hombres", Angelo stated calmly as he took a
few  steps,  his silhouette backlighted by the streetlamps as he stood
at the mouth of the alleyway.
   The  alley  went quiet for a moment, then there were a few snikting
sounds  as  switchblades  and stilettos were pulled.  By the time they
were out, so was Angelo's gun.  "Back off from the girl", he repeated.
   "I  don't  need your %&$#ing help!" the girl said almost petulantly
and tried to yank herself free of one man's grasp.
   "You  been  watchin' too many action movies, man.  There are six of
us, and just one o' you.  YOU back off", said one of the thugs.
   Angelo  kept  his  gun levelled at the thugs, slowly going from one
target to another.  He knew how to handle a gun.  He didn't like using
them, but he could if he had to.  One of the benefits of living in the
'Hood  was  that  you  get  good  survival  training.   "I ain't going
nowhere, amigo.  Now let the girl go."
   There  was  rustling  among the thugs, most of them glancing at who
seemed to be their leader, the one holding the girl, eager to attack.
   "I  am  getting SO tired of this macho bullsh*t!" spat out the girl
and from her hand fell something glowing, like a little marble, but it
was glowing a soft, yellow light.  "3...2...1..."

   Atlantic City.  5 AM.
   "No!   I  am  -not- going to go -anywhere- with you!" Jenny crossed
her  arms  stubbornly  over her chest and turned away from the others,
her chin lifted up in the air.
   "What  do  we need her for anyway, Shaman?" asked Roberto Da Costa,
his  foot  lifted  up  to a park bench while he watched the situation.
"What  do  you  need all of us for, anyway?  You've told us that we're
part of some mysterious 'Twelve', but so far all you have had us do is
run  away  and  save others.  When are we going to strike back??  When
are we going to do something besides running??"
   Moonstar  walked behind Roberto and placed a hand onto his shoulder
as  she backed him up, looking at Shaman over Roberto's shoulder.  "He
is  right",  she  stated.  "What are your plans, Shaman?" Her tone was
more reverential and respectful, acknowledging the older man's status,
but  that  didn't  mean  she  did  not  question  him.  "I am tired of
running.  I am a Cheyenne.  We don't run."
   Shaman  was  about  to go to talk to Jennifer when he found himself
questioned by the two youths.  He turned his head slowly towards them.
"Very  well",  he  sighed.   "I  know where Selene is.  She lives in a
hidden  city  on  the  border  of the Amazon and the Andes called Nova
Roma.   The only way to get her to end hunting you and the rest of the
Twelve,  is  to  kill  her.  That is the choice you must make.  You or
her.  But we must find the others before the Legion does, and all will
be lost."
   "And  then  we  can  go  back  to our normal lives?" Roberto asked,
almost a bit suspicious of this, as if there were a hidden clause.  It
couldn't be as easy as that sounded...
   Shaman nodded briefly.  "If you wish."
   Roberto's  eyes  narrowed  a bit, as he mulled that over.  Then, he
sighed.  "Very well.  But I wish to get some decent clothes and to cal
my father before I do anything else."
   o  O  (Get back to our normal lives, 'Berto?) Moonstar thought, her
hand  lightly  slipping  from  his shoulder to her side.  o O (I don't
have  one anymore.  All that is left for me is vengeance.  Selene will
die.  This I swear.)
   Sam  watched the whole conversation silently, not really wishing to
intervene.   He  felt extremely uneasy at the fact that this seemed to
be  a  'kill  or  be  killed' situation.  He had long been taught that
killing is against the Lord's wishes.  Jesus Christ allowed himself to
be  killed  rather  than  fight  back.  Should he follow that example?
Shouldn't  he  try to fight Selene with words rather than weapons?  If
they  ever  got to confronting Selene, he would try to talk some sense
into  her...   Even  after  she  had  been  the  cause of his family's
death...  Had the Legion killed everyone?  He had only seen the bodies
of  his mother and Elizabeth...  Could Josh have taken the little ones
to  safety?   What  about Paige?  It had been what, two years since he
had  last seen her?  Was she even still alive...?  Sam bit his lip and
wrested  himself  away from his thoughts, trying to see what was going
on around him now.
   Shaman  sighed  at  the  impatience  of  the young Brazilian not to
mention  his  infinite ability to focus on unimportant things.  Shaman
focused  on  the more cosmic, metaphysical affairs.  The confrontation
between  the  Twelve  and  Selene.   What did clothing or informing an
outsider have to do with any of that?
   Roberto,  on  the  other hand, had a much more practical viewpoint.
He  was  still  in  his hospital robe, and it was important for him to
look  good while performing heroic adventures.  And his father must be
worried sick.  What about his mother...wasn't she about to leave on an
expedition  towards  something...   He  couldn't  quite recall, but it
-was- something on the border of the Andes and the Amazon...  Could it
have something to do with this 'Nova Roma'??
   "You are all completely nuts!" broke in a voice.  Jennifer's voice.
"You  actually  believe  this guy??  Next I know you're going to start
believing  in  spirits or something!" At that comment, Moonstar raised
her  eyebrow, but didn't comment.  Jennifer noticed her cold gaze, and
was  visibly  unnerved,  a  bit  more  quiet  as she continued.  "'The
Twelve'.   'Nova Roma'.  'Selene'.  'Lethal Legion'.  What the HELL is
he  talking about??  I'm NOT going to leave anywhere and let my father
be killed because I've ran away!"
   Sam  lifted  a hand into the air to quiet the situation down a bit.
"Ah  dunno  what  y' are talkin' 'bout, miss, but Ah'd sure appreciate
if'n  you  explained  it."  He tilted his head confusedly as he took a
step towards Jenny.  "Is your father captured'r something?"
   Jenny's expression turned to a mixture of hurt and anger.  Couldn't
they  understand??  She didn't want ANY part of this!  She just wanted
to  be  left alone, continue her cushy job and be sure that her father
was  safe.  She DIDN'T want to get involved in any mystical prophecies
or  any  other  bullsh*t!   She just wanted to be left alone!  And she
couldn't  even  tell who had her father.  She had already revealed too
much,  stupid  her...   She turned around, her back to the others once
more as she went quiet.
   "Blackmail", Roberto stated with cold certainty.  He recognized the
symptoms.   Threatened father, reluctancy to speak about it all...  He
had  seen  all  that  in  Magnum,  PI.  "She can't talk about it to us
because  she  is afraid she has already revealed too much.  Her father
is being held and will be killed if she runs away." He paused and took
his  foot down from the park bench to walk towards Jennifer.  "What do
they want from you?  Obviously it's not money."
   With  a  sudden  motion,  Jennifer  spun around and slapped Roberto
across  the  face.   She  had  panicked.  How had he figured it out so
quickly??   Now...   Mr  Osborn  would  -definitely-  kill her father.
After  slapping  Roberto,  Jenny fell weakly to her knees, and started
sobbing heartwrenchingly.
   Roberto  was  taken  aback  by the slap, and he put his hand to his
cheek.   He  almost felt a rush of pleasure go thru him.  The slap had
only  served  to  make  him  more  certain  he  was  right.  He looked
downwards  at Jenny's sobbing form, and crouched down in front of her.
"Look,  menina.  I understand what you are going thru.  I think I have
a  solution..."  He smiled confidently.  "My father is rich.  I'm sure
we  can  make  a  deal with whoever is holding your father.  I'll come
with you to make the deal." He looked over his shoulder to the others.
"You  others  can  go  after  the  rest  of the Twelve while we fix up
Jennifer's situation."
   Everyone  looked  at  Roberto  like  he  had  gone out of his mind,
Jennifer  not  the  least.   "What the heck d' you think you're doing,
'Berto?"  Moonstar  asked  with  an astonished expression.  "We're not
going  to  leave  you  behind!   If  the  Legionnaires  come back with
reinforcements, they'll kill the two of you without a second thought!"
   "Moonstar's  right,  Bobby",  commented Sam, just as stunned by the
thought.  "We're aimin' ta pull our ranks together, not split'em."
   "We  all  have  lost our loved ones because of this accursed thing,
Sam", Roberto replied.  "Now we have a chance to save the loved one of
one  of  us.   Besides,  Jennifer wouldn't come with us unless this is
resolved.   So  you go get the next one without me, and then come back
for me and Jennifer."
   "Time  is  of  essence here", interrupted Shaman.  "We can not stay
here  and  pause  our mission in order to save Jennifer's father.  But
you  will  both be at risk if you remain in this city." He looked over
to Moonstar.  "You will stay with them."

   Camp  Verde  Apache  reservation,  Arizona,  United  States.  3 AM.
Special  Agent  John  Proudstar  of  the  Indian  Affairs  Division is
standing  beside a wooden fence surrounding the house his family - his
little  bother, his parents, his grandfather - lives in.  Leaning onto
the fence, he looks up at the stars as he ponders about his life.
   It  had  been  years since he had returned from the Gulf War to the
reservation.  Almost instantly afterwards, he had become involved in a
plot  by  a  mad scientist named Edwin Martynec who had been using the
Indians   at   the   reservation  secretly  as  guinea  pigs  for  his
experiments.   After  teaming  up  with  a fellow Apache named Michael
Whitecloud  to  expose  Martynec's  plot, he had been recruited by the
Indian Affairs Division to work as their special agent.
   It  was  a  job  that more times than not tended to drive him nuts.
Paperwork,  settling minor squabbles and disputes, and other work that
would  be  better  suited  for  old women than a hero of the Gulf War.
But,  every  now  and  then something surfaced that he actually got to
exercise his skills in to the fullest.  Something that was a challenge
to  him.  And those were what kept him in the job.  That, and the good
pay.
   John  Proudstar  was  not  a normal man.  He was a mutant, the next
step  in  the evolution of mankind.  Like Homo Sapiens was superior to
the  Neanderthals, so were mutants - or Homo Superior - different from
their  human ancestors.  In John's case, he was gifted with superhuman
strength,  senses,  speed  and endurance, and those skills became very
useful in his line of work.
   "Big  brother?"  John turned around to see his little brother James
approaching.   "Yah?   What  is  it, runt?" John replied briefly as he
turned around to lean his back to the fence.
   James  was  almost  a full decade younger than John, having had his
sixteenth  birthday  just  two  weeks ago.  He was starting to exhibit
some  of  the  same  traits John had, his musculature and size growing
abnormally  fast.  Still, he could never escape being playfully called
a runt by his brother.
   "You've gotta get over it", James said quietly.  "Nobody blames you
but  yourself."  John  had missed James' birthday party because he had
gotten  a  lead  on  the  location  of  a person who had kidnapped his
fiancee  Susie  Littlewing.  The kidnapper had turned out to be John's
old  adversary Martynec, and Susie had died, killed by Martynec before
the  scientist  himself  fell  into a chasm, his body never recovered.
John  was  certain  Martynec  was  still alive, and if he ever saw him
again, it would be the last time...
   By  the  time  John had come back, he was no longer in a mood for a
party,  nor  was  the  stripper  he  had  ordered for James so amusing
anymore  as  when  he had first thought of it.  Since then he had done
nothing  but  sulked,  not talk to anyone, not go to work, nothing but
remain alone.  The light of his life was gone.
   This  time,  John  didn't  respond  either.   He blamed himself all
right.   He  blamed  himself  and  Martynec.  Mostly Martynec.  But he
should  have been faster...  Should have disarmed the scientist before
he  could  fire...  John just quietly turned back around, to face away
from James, towards the open desert.
   Both  young men were aware of the sound far before the normal human
ear  would  pick  it  up,  if  at  all.   They  whirled  around almost
simultaneously.    Something   on   the   other   side  of  the  house
wasn't...right.   Both  men knew it, and while the inexperienced James
was  getting nervous, John's eyes narrowed and he immediately exploded
into  action.   o  O (Martynec!) he immediately thought, and he looked
towards  James.   "Take  everyone  out  of  the house, and towards the
canyon,  runt",  he half-whispered, consumed by rage.  "I'll deal with
our mysterious visitor."
   "Okay",  James  replied  and started running towards the house.  He
felt  himself  being  lifted  in  the air suddenly, yanked back by his
brother's strong arm.  "And be quiet about it", John added.  He wasn't
going to let Martynec get away this time.  He then set James down, and
the  younger  Proudstar  sprinted  over the dozen yards or so into the
house.
   John  tensed up as he quietly streaked to the side of the building,
laying  himself  flat  and  listening.   Opening  himself  up  to  his
surroundings.   Where was Martynec?  That was a question floating thru
his mind as he tried to figure out the intruder's whereabouts.
   No!   Inside  the  house!   John realized that just a fraction of a
second before there was a cry.  "John!!  They're inside the house!" It
was  James' voice, but who the hell was 'they'??  Quickly, John jumped
thru  the  window  beside him, the infernal symphony of the shattering
glass signaling his entrance to the living room.
   BLAM!   BLAM!  BLAM!  Three gunshots, followed by a scream of "NO!"
John  looked  around, and seeing nothing, he ran towards the bedrooms,
where  everyone should be in the middle of the night.  In the hallway,
he  was  suddenly assaulted with a wave of vertigo, more powerful than
any  he  had felt before, and he couldn't resist falling to his knees.
o O (Not...now...!) he tried to fight the feeling, gritting his teeth.
   "We are the Lethal Legion", said a female voice and John was barely
able  to  look  up, discerning the form of a lithesome, almost scrawny
woman clad in white and pale green, forming circular patterns over her
body,  enough  to make a guy dizzy without whatever he was coming down
with.  "I'm Vertigo.  Lie down.  You'll soon be dead."
   John  strained,  understanding  that  whatever  he was feeling, was
caused  by  the  woman.  His hands suddenly shot out to the sides, and
with  a  crunch his hands sank onto the opposite sides of the hallway.
A  twist  of  his  arms,  and  the  walls came tumbling down.  "Wrong.
You'll  soon  be  toast,  babe!"  he  growled  as  he felt the vertigo
disappear from his head.
   Quickly,  John  looked  around.   More  gunshots!   He growled, the
hallway  ahead  of  him  blocked.   His  legs tensed up, and he leaped
upwards, tearing thru the ceiling like it was tissue paper, and landed
on  the roof.  He quickly ran over a few yards to the point of ceiling
where  he  knew was his parents' bedroom.  Again, he tore off the roof
and dropped to the room.
   "James!"  John  shouted  as  he saw his little brother huddled in a
corner,  a  gun  being  pointed  at  him by what John would call "some
chinese freak in a suit." Scrambler spun around at the voice and fired
shots  in John's direction, but the special agent was simply too fast.
He  dodged to the side, and leaped at the Legionnaire, grabbing him by
the throat and lifting him into the air like he was nothing.
   "Big  mistake,  Hiawatha",  Scrambler  grinned.  "My powers work by
touch."  Suddenly,  John felt his whole enhanced body, muscles, neural
system,  everything go as if to a cramp.  Surging, shorting out, being
scrambled,  he  screamed  as  he  fell  to the floor, fighting to stay
conscious.
   "Yeah,  and  you talk too much!" came a voice, and suddenly a chair
smashed  onto  Scrambler  from  behind.  James panted, and watched the
killer's unconscious form on the floor.  Then, he went to his brother,
and  helped him up, John barely conscious as he stumbled along.  "Come
on,  big brother...  We've got to get out of here..." he said in panic
and went over to the window, opening it and shoving his brother out of
it, jumping after him.
   John  tried  to  focus  himself, but his whole body was like jelly,
numb     all     over,     not    responding    to    his    commands.
"No...mom...dad...grandpa..."  he  muttered, his expression furious as
he wanted to return.
   "They're  dead..."  James  sniffled,  and  for  the first time John
noticed that James' eyes were moist, filled with tears.  "Those people
killed them all..."
   "Someone is gonna die for this..." John muttered viciously as James
hoisted  him  to the back of their family's truck and then quickly ran
over to the wheel, preparing to start the engine.  The keys!  Damn it,
the  keys were inside!  Quickly, James jumped off the car, and started
running back to the house.
   "JAMES!!"  John  shouted  as  he  watched him run towards the front
door.  "Come back!!" There was no reply from the younger brother as he
ran  up to the door, opened it, and quickly slipped in.  John's curses
filled  the  air, and his face twisted in a massive strain as he tried
to  get his body back under control, but to no avail.  All he could do
was faintly move some of his limbs, and that wasn't enough.
   o O (Who the hell were those guys??) John thought.  o O (Martynec's
people?   I  dunno  WHO they were, but as soon as I'm back on my feet,
they're  going  to  be dead.  Won't matter then anymore.  And then I'm
gonna  get  Martynec.   Once  an'  for all.  No more sulkin'.  Time to
finish out little game.)
   Then  there  was  the  sound  of feet running over the rough desert
ground,  and  John looked back towards the house.  James was streaking
out  of  it  like the devil himself was on his tail.  He jumped in the
car,  and in a few seconds the engine was running, and he pressed down
the pedal, the old, trusty truck taking off and ramming right thru the
gate in the fence.
   After a few minutes, the truck was running smoothly on the road out
of the reservation, and John was starting to recover.  He climbed from
the  back  of the truck to the front by way of hanging outside the car
while  it  was  moving.   "Drive  up  to my place, little brother", he
stated  grimly  as  he  closed  the  door behind him.  "I'm now on the
Warpath."

   Castille, Spain.  Some ten minutes past noon.
   Manuel  de la Rocha always sleeps late.  Even when the warm rays of
sun  started illuminating his chamber hours ago, he did not even stir.
Still  young,  sixteen  years  old, he was unhaunted by the nightmares
that  would  soon  catch up to him.  Sooner than he might think, if he
had had any idea...
   A floating circle of dust heralded the silent arrival of Shaman and
Sam  Guthrie  as  it  fell  downwards.  The chamber of the young de la
Rocha  was  undisturbed, as was the boy himself, still deep within his
slumber.
   As  he  appeared  in the middle of the room, beside Shaman, Sam was
astonished.   The  sheer size of the chamber was equal, if not larger,
to  the  whole  ground floor of his home.  His jaw dropped slack as he
looked  at  all  the  extravagant  furnishings, glittering objects and
presumably  priceless  objects.  His eyes went from the room itself to
the boy in the bed, and back.
   While  Sam  occupied  himself  with  the chamber, Shaman took a few
paces  towards  the bed, his focus on the mission unwavering.  "Manuel
de la Rocha", he stated out loud, intending to wake the boy up.
   To  no effect.  Manuel kept breathing silently, not even seeming to
have noticed the words, nor the strangers in his chamber.  The silence
insisted on persisting.
   "Manuel  de la Rocha", Shaman repeated, a bit more forcefully as he
moved  next to the bed.  This time, the young man in the bed groaned a
bit  and  turned around, away from the noise.  Then, he froze as he in
his waking slumber started to realize there was someone here with him.
   "<What  is  this??   Who  are  you??>"  Manuel  asked  in  Spanish,
recoiling  away  from  Shaman and falling from his bed on the opposite
side  from  the  older  man  with  a heavy thud.  He pulled the covers
quickly around him from the bed as he started stumbling up, still weak
and  unsure  on  his  feet  as a result of just waking up, and perhaps
something else.
   Shaman  lifted  an  eyebrow at Manuel's behavior before starting to
explain.  "We are here to save your life, Manuel de la Rocha", he said
calmly.   "You  have  been  targeted  by  a  group  of killers calling
themselves  the Lethal Legion.  Unless you leave with us, the lives of
you and everyone living in this castle will be endangered."
   Manuel  blinked  once  and the expression on his face was something
close  to astonishment and disgust.  "Really?" he asked incredulously,
switching  to  English  not to let the mysterious visitors' job become
easier,  but  to  demonstrate  his  superiority.  While they could not
speak  his language, he could speak theirs.  "Why would I believe you?
And  even if I did, you can rest assured that the de la Rocha are more
than capable of protecting themselves."
   At  the reply, Shaman's expression turned slightly irritated.  "You
have no concept of the powers the Lethal Legion possesses", he stated.
"One  of them alone could destroy your family castle where it stands."
Sam  blinked at the word 'castle' while Shaman continued.  "I am aware
of the powers you as well possess, Manuel de la Rocha.  You are one of
the  Twelve,  and  you  are  destined  to bring about the death of the
immortal  sorceress  Selene.   She has contracted the Lethal Legion to
kill you before you can kill him."
   "I  would  like to say that is a highly entertaining story", Manuel
stated  in  a  bored  tone.   "But  the  truth  is  that  it  is  very
unimaginative and boring.  Now leave my quarters before I am forced to
summon someone.
   Sam  cleared  his throat faintly, tentatively, and looked at Shaman
and  Manuel  from across the room.  "'Scuse me, folks", he apologized,
then  looked  over  to  the  spaniard.  "Ah'm not so sure on what he's
sayin'  either,  but Ah -do- know that -someone- is sendin' people out
ta  kill  folks.   Mah  family  got  killed, an' so did someone else's
girlfriend  an'  someone else's tribe.  Ah know it's a lot ta take in,
but  Ah promise, if'n ya come with us now, you won't regret it.  If Ah
got th' chance he's giving you, ta save mah family by goin' away f'r a
while, Ah'd thank th' Lord f'r givin' me a second chance."
   Manuel  quirked  an  eyebrow  at  Sam's words, his expression still
remaining  arrogant and irritated.  "I have no intention of going with
you anywhere", he said petulantly and started towards a bell rope.
   At  Manuel's motion, Shaman's eyes narrowed and he reached into his
medicine  pouch.  "Very well", he said.  "I am sorry, but you leave me
no  choice."  Both Sam and Manuel turned around as they heard this, to
look at Shaman, Sam astonished, Manuel angry.
   "You  intend  to  kidnap me?" he asked in outrage.  "What gives you
the  right  to  make  choices  for  a  de la Rocha??  How -dare- you?"
Manuel's  eyes  narrowed into tight slits as he tried to reach for the
bell rope in time.
   "No,  wait!" came Sam's voice and both other men turned now to look
at  him.  "Mr de la Rocha, Ah'm sorry f'r what Shaman said.  He didn't
mean it or maybe he did, but Ah ain't gonna let'im." He turned to look
at  Shaman  sternly.   "Sir,  what  we  do is a good thing, Ah s'pose,
savin' people an' all, but we ain't kidnappers.  We ain't the bad guys
here.   If'n  Mr  de  la Rocha doesn't want ta come with us, we cain't
force'im." He paused and looked at both of the other men collectively.
"We  got  two  choices.  Either we leave him behind an' let'im an' his
family  be  killed  when  the Legion comes callin', which Ah ain't too
fond  of.   Or  we stay behind ta protect'im when they come an' try ta
talk some sense inta him in th' meanwhile."
   There  was  a  moment of uncomfortable silence, as both men took in
Sam's words.  Manuel still looked cautious, Shaman was tense.  Finally
the  Sarcee spoke.  "Very well", he nodded.  "I can not risk him being
killed, but I can not wait here while others could be in jeopardy." He
glanced  over to Sam.  "You will stay here.  I will be back as soon as
I  can." He took something out of his medicine pouch which looked much
like a normal small twig.  "If the Legion attacks, break this in half.
It  will  notify  me  of  the situation and allow me to come here with
reinforcements."
   Sam  nodded  briefly  and tucked the twig in the pocket of his worn
jeans.  Shaman glanced to Manuel with a slight disapproving look, then
he  tossed  a  handful of dust into the air and a circle of descending
dust faded him out of sight, taking him elsewhere.
   "Hmph.   I  suppose  this  means  you will stay for dinner", Manuel
commented dryly.

   Nova Roma.  Dawn.  If clocks were used there, it would be 6 AM.
   "Senator  Gallio!"  came  an angered, feminine voice and the man in
question stepped out of his room, looking down over the balcony to the
foyer of his villa.
   Gallio  was nothing short of astonished as he recognized the figure
standing in his foyer.  Lady Amara Juliana Olivians Aquilla, the chief
of Selene's personal guard.  His expression, however, betrayed none of
that  surprise,  as  he  started  walking  down the stairs towards the
foyer.  "Lady Amara", he smiled in a smooth tone.  "You look even more
beautiful than when we last met.  How are you?"
   "Spare the pleasantries, Senator", Amara spat out in an icy tone as
she  turned around towards the stairs, placing her hands onto her hips
haughtily  as  she  awaited  for  the  man  to  get  down.   "I am not
interested in anything else except seeing you executed."
   Even  still,  Gallio's  face  seemed  almost...pleased?  He did not
react  to  Amara's  cold  manner nor to her comments about him.  "I am
assuming  there  is  a  reason for your behavior other than my dispute
with  your  father?" he grinned and walked over to Amara upon reaching
the foyer.  "Would you care to share it with me?"
   "You  know  perfectly  well  what I am talking about", she snapped,
taking  a step towards the senator, her eyes narrow slits burning with
anger.  "And unlike my Mother, I do not play games.  I should strangle
you right now with your own entrails!"
   The  comment elicited little response from Gallio, as he started to
stroll  towards  an exit, intending to get into a more private area to
talk.   He  was, however, stopped by Amara grabbing a hold of the back
of  his  toga and holding him in place.  "You are not going anywhere",
she hissed.
   Gallio  sighed  and  turned  around,  straightening  his toga as he
looked  to  Amara  with  slight  disdain.   "You are overstepping your
rights,  Lady  Amara", he noted.  "Now, unless you are going to inform
me  of  the cause to this...outrage, I would prefer if you would leave
my house."
   Amara's  features twisted into an even more hateful expression, and
she  almost  growled.  "You know full well why I am here", she stated.
"Even  though  your  assassination attempt on my Mother was a failure,
like so much of what you do, I still intend on seeing you dead for it.
For  this  time I have proof, and the means to see you convicted!" She
thrust  with  a  quick motion a necklace in front of Gallio's face.  A
necklace  bearing the hawk emblem of House Gallio.  "You sent your man
to assassinate my mother!"
   With  a calm look, Gallio kept staring into Amara's eyes, seemingly
unshaken  either by the accusations or the discovery.  "I see.  And do
you  have  any  proof  to  these  claims other than this necklace?" he
asked.   "After  all,  anyone  could steal a necklace of my House.  Or
someone  of  my  House could be acting without my orders." He appeared
almost  smug  as  he introduced these possibilities.  He took a second
glance  at  the  necklace  and  seemed  a bit surprised.  "In fact...I
believe  this particular necklace is mine.  I lost it a few days ago."
He smirked a bit.  "It seems someone stole it in order to implicate me
for the assassination."
   "Grrrrrrr",  Amara  growled and snatched the necklace back, putting
it  in  her  belt  pouch.   "I  will  have your hide yet, Gallio", she
snarled,  staring at him.  "Trust me, this is -not- over!  This is now
war!" She turned around, and marched towards the double doors, shoving
them open with a huge slam, and walked out of the villa.
   Gallio  chuckled  as  he  turned  around as well, and walked up the
stairs  to return to his bedroom.  o O (Still so young), he thought of
Amara.  o O (Still so impatient.  So inexperienced.)
   As  he  opened  the door to his bedroom and stepped in, there was a
female voice from the darkness.  "Who was it?" the voice asked.
   "Your  sister",  Gallio briefly replied and removed his toga before
he started back towards the bed.
   Darkchilde chuckled darkly as she made room for the man in the bed.
"I  see.  Why was she here?" she asked as Gallio returned and lay down
onto the bed.
   Stretching  himself  a  bit,  Gallio pulled the sheets over him and
shrugged.  "It appears someone has stolen my necklace and attempted to
implicate my house for the attempted assassination of Selene."
   "Indeed?"  Darkchilde asked with a vaguely half-amused tone.  "That
explains her shouting.  I assume she was not very courteous with you?"
   Gallio  chuckled  as well, Darkchilde's amusement infectious.  "You
could  say  that", he nodded as he turned towards her.  "But enough of
your sister.  The sun is about to rise and we still have a little time
to explore the pleasures of the night."

   Los Angeles.  2:15 AM.
   *BOOM*
   A  huge  explosion  took  place in the alley, as if a few sticks of
dynamite  had  been  blown up.  The six gang members were scattered by
the force of the explosion, most of them going unconscious.
   "What  the F*CK was that????" one of the still-conscious ones asked
while trying to clear his head.
   "It  was  the chica!!  She's some kind of freak!  A mutant!" yelled
another and started running away.
   "You  bet  your  @sses!" the girl replied, and tossed from her hand
another  glowing  marble  in  the  direction  of  the  escaping  punk.
"3...2...1..."  *BOOM* The explosion rocketed the boy right out of the
alley  and  she  turned his attention to the remaining one.  "You want
some  of  the  same  medicine, 'chico'?" she asked half-sarcastically,
half-teasingly  as she approached him with a cocky pace.  "Or will you
run now and spare me the effort?"
   The  punk  turned  tail  and  ran  out of the alley at near-olympic
speeds,  white  as  a  sheet.  The girl chuckled and dusted her hands.
"Guess  that's  that",  she  commented  as  she looked around.  As she
glanced  to the mouth of the alley, her eyebrow quirked as she saw the
figure  still  there.   "Well well well", she commented sarcastically.
"My very own knight in shining armor.  Never had one of those before",
she  spoke  as  she  walked towards him.  "Not gonna start now.  I can
take care of myself just fine.  Capeesh?"
   Angelo  quirked  an eyebrow and watched the girl walk past him, and
resume  her  walk  along  the  street.  "Story of my life", he replied
dryly  and  put  his  gun  away,  taking a pack of cigarettes from his
jacket  and  lighting one.  Walking after the girl, he offered her one
as  well,  and as she accepted, he lit hers.  "Don't look like you got
much  use for any help, either", he commented as he took a deep breath
of the smoke.
   "Never have, never will", she replied with a matter-of-fact tone as
she  mimicked  Angelo's  feat, taking a lungful of smoke.  "But you're
gonna get killed if you keep trying to rescue everyone in trouble."
   Angelo  blew  out  the  smoke  in  a large cloud to his right, then
looked  back left towards the girl as he shrugged.  "I'm not afraid of
dyin'", he commented.  "Where you headed?"
   Letting  the smoke out with a slow, long breath, the girl answered.
"Da Bronx", was the smart@ss response.  "You?"
   "Sounds  good  to  me",  he  said,  taking  the response literally,
perhaps to tease.  "Never been to the east coast."
   She  took another breath from the cigarette and her eyes narrowed a
bit.   In  silence,  she  paused for a moment to savor the smoke or to
ponder  on  her  response...maybe both?  "Right.  So what's your name,
dude?"
   "Angelo", he replied.  "Angelo Espinosa.  You, chica?"
   With  a  chuckle,  the  smoke  escaped the girl's mouth.  "Cute.  I
ain't  no  'chica',  Angel-boy", she said as the sounds of their boots
faded  away  to  the  distance,  along the sidewalk.  "You can call me
Boom-Boom."

                              NEXT ISSUE

During  our  ferocious  fifth  issue,  we'll see Jennifer, Roberto and
Moonstar looking for a solution towards the dilemma of Jenny's father.
The  Brothers  Proudstar arm themselves for war while Shaman looks for
more  cooperative allies.  The Lethal Legion plan their second wave of
assaults  and  prepare  to  execute it with unmatched coldness.  Don't
miss  this issue and the half-Twelfth issue it leads into, 'Run, Kids,
Run!'.  You'll beat yourself up if you do!