Charles Leblanc watched uncomfortably, holding the flashlight in place, as Lila Lake toyed with the rusted lock. He whispered, "You're sure this is a good idea?"

Her eyes never left the complex work in front of her. "Of course it is," she responded, her voice hushed, "You heard the recording as well as I did. And ... ha!" She grinned up at him as the lock fell open.

The two of them entered the abandoned Montreal warehouse. Charles sealed the door behind him quietly, and trailed after Lila as she laid their packs on the ground by what appeared to be the centre of the open space, and began to assemble the metal detectors. She handed Charles one, "Don't bail out on me now, I need you."

Charles nodded in the darkness, "I'm not going anywhere." The two of them started the sweep, moving in slow concentric circles outwards from the centre. Every so often one would hear a familiar buzz ... invariably producing a coin, a bottle top, a piece of scratch metal. Anything that looked suspicious went into a small plastic bag. Finally, "Lila!" Charles called out in a stage whisper.

Lila marched over, her flashlight sweeping before her. She found him kneeling on the ground, shining his flashlight on a small object he held gingerly in his open palm. "What did you find?"

He smiled grimly, "Paydirt." Her breath caught as she looked at his find: a fragment of what appeared to be a sharp blade, oddly curved, and broken off at one jagged end. "You sure did, Charles," she breathed quietly.

She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a photograph. It was a new print of what appeared to be an old publicity photo. In it was a powerful looking man clad in a green and red tights. His features were covered by a feral-looking mask, but he was grinning widely for the camera. His arms were crossed, and from the backs of each glove protruded a number of dangerous-looking weapons. The shape of the blade in Clark's hand and the blades in the photo matched exactly. "You sure did," she repeated, and held Charles' find up against the photo of the long-lost superhero known as The Scratch.

Lila said, "Thank you again for agreeing to an interview, Mr. Holman."

"My pleasure, Ms. Lake. I've always appreciated your and Mr. LeBlanc's by-lines at the Montreal Star." Edward D. Holman leaned back and smiled indulgently. "Now ... next question?"

Lila smiled back, "Well, I'd like to backtrack a bit. I know this is a sensitive issue, but I have some questions about some missing members of the RCAF. Would you ... "she was interrupted as Holman stood up abruptly.

Holman said, "Enough. This interview was purportedly about Department H's charitable work, not to dredge up old scandals. I think our interview is at an end, Ms. Lake."

Lila Lake said, "But ... "

His secretary shook her head dismissively. "I think you had best leave, Ms. Lake." She stood up as well and escorted Lila to the door. Lila sighed, made her apologies, and did her best to depart gracefully under the circumstances.

After he closed the door, Professor Carter Nichols' voice came through on the intercom system through which he had been listening. "What do you think?"

Holman scowled. "Note the subtext of the interview, scattered throughout the more innocuous questions ... she did everything but mention the Weapon X Project by name. There's been a leak, she can't have arrived at this by accident."

Nichols raised an eyebrow, "Do you think she knows?"

Holman shook his head. "I doubt it. We covered our tracks too well when we retrieved Morgan Morgan. But she's not what concerns me. You know as well as I do that where Lila Lake or Charles LeBlanc go, Hyperman is soon to follow."

Nichols asked, "Do you think it's time to involve Quinn? If he'd even listen to us?"

Holman thought for a bit. "I detest using criminals for our purposes, but I think it's time for a test of his capabilities."

"Look, up in the air ... "

Hyperman gave a magnanimous wave at the Montreal population as they cheered him. He soared through the skies effortlessly, hyper-vision and hearing scanning the ground below for crimes. They provided no warning, however, when he found his flight interfered with by an arrow which emitted a confounding mist.

Hyperman quickly scanned the surrounding area, spotting the four odd figures on a nearby rooftop. "So that's it, is it?" he muttered, and released a burst of hyper-breath to dispel the mist, before descending down to their level.

Creed Quinn, also known as the Hyena, cackled manically. "Hyperman. How ya doing?"

Hyperman scowled and settled down into a battle stance. "Fine. Are you four supposed to be the freak show come to town?"

The Mist laughed as well, "We like to call ourselves the Hold Up Mob. Consider us your graduate studies." She and the archer known as Komodo continued their sensory assault, the arrows besieging him with subsonics, and as Hyperman dispersed their efforts he felt a stabbing pain in his back. "Great Rao!" he said in surprise, and whirled around.

The psychopath known as Southside faced him, carrying a glowing scythe, and the Hyena brandished his claws. Hyperman's hypersensitive senses fell prey once more to his other opponents, and the blows from the maniacally grinning pair caused him to lose his balance.

The Hyena laughed as Hyperman crashed to the rooftop. "Now," he proclaimed as Southside raised the scythe above his head, "time's up." Southside brought it down in a crushing blow, and it landed twelve inches to the right of Hyperman's head. The psychopath blinked, confused, and raised the scythe again. It came down on the left side. "What's happening?"

A dark figure with a large animalistic totem tattooed over his torso swooped down from the skies. "I'm happening. My name is Flying Fox, and I'm afraid I can't let you kill that man."

Southside raged, attempting to resist Flying Fox's magical attack. The Hyena leapt at the newcomer, "If you think a fox's puny claws match up against a hyena's you must be joking!" Flying Fox gestured magically, and the cackling canine found himself continually missing him, always lunging to the right of where he sought to be.

Hyperman turned to the Mist and Komodo, as the latter readied another arrow. "I've had about enough of you two," he said, and a cooling burst of hyperbreath froze the Mist into place and immobilised Komodo. Free of the disrupting subsonics, he sensed Southside's approach from behind. He whirls around, grabbing the man's wrist in a steel-hard grip and making him drop his weapon.

Flying Fox found he could not match his opponent's speed or savagery, although he continued using his magic to confound him as he backed away in a retreat. The Hyena lunged once more, then looked down in dismay as he saw that his prey had lured him off the edge of the roof. He plummeted almost comically, striking the ground and groaning in pain.

"We make a pretty good team," said Flying Fox as he descended back to join Hyperman.

"You think so?" said Hyperman with a smile.

"I'm sure you could have handed them on your own eventually," Flying Fox said. "Are they some old arch-enemies of yours?"

"No … not of mine," Hyperman said. "I was investigating the disappearance of a member of Justice Flight, known as the Scratch." He scanned the Hyena's unconscious form. "This man has adamantium bonded to his skeleton, just as the Scratch did. I would venture there's some connection between the two of them. This battle isn't over."

Miles away, Edward Holman shook his head. "No, no it isn't," he said to himself.