Sweat rolled down her chest, her eyes sharply focused on the punching bag. The blood stain did not faze her.

She had slept little in the past week. Of course the nightmares of blood stained claws and hairy arms reaching, grabbing her friends and dragging them away did not help. All she could seem to do was look on, frozen in one spot, never fast enough, strong enough to help them. She is the best, not even an Arch-Villain could stand up to her. But those wolves…

To her friends and enemies alike she was simply known as Valya. The punching bag imbedded itself in the wall. "Damn, need a new punching bag." She had to grow stronger before she faced her nightmare in wolf form.

**********************

Her tired eyes scanned the public records. Even her neck hurt from the constant staring at the huge wall monitor. She was looking for any event the names Spider or Bzald were involved in.

So much was not known about him; even teaming with him he remained quiet and usually left after the battle, back to his tower. The three of them don’t talk much about that night. She, Tropic and Valya were trapped by demons in werewolf clothing, unstoppable, unrelenting to the point of focused rage. Then Bzald appeared after Valya went down. "It seems he knew we were in trouble and then ‘it’ stepped out of the shadows and seemed to be glad Bzald was there."

Who or what he was and what did he want with Bzald seemed to have hit Valya the hardest. She trained non-stop now. There were also the rumors going around, some asking "Is Bzald in trouble?". Other voices, some from the super group Top Ten, "Did Bzald set the whole thing up?" and others "How could he teleport in when they could not get out?"

She did not have answers nor was she close to one when a soft touch broke her from her trance.

"Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you jump ten feet." The gold and black threads that showed his Top Ten colors seemed too bright at the moment.

She saw his mouth move but no sound seemed to come out of it. "Sorry, hon, what did you just say?"

The corners of his mouth went down under the black fabric. "Sorry, WillowWind, didn’t mean to bother you.. You seem so wrapped up in your thoughts I wasn’t sure if I wanted to bother you." Kunai paused as he scanned the screen. "I see. Have you found anything that will help or hurt him, hon?" He averted his eyes as she stared at him.

"What do you mean? Do you think he is guilty of something?"

He put up his hands. "No, no. I’m sure it’s nothing." The pause seemed to take too long. "Well, how come he was able to teleport in when you were not able to leave? Also, what about the wolves? They just stopped when he appeared. Then this guy that the cameras recorded, who is he? He seemed way too friendly with Bzald."

It was her turn to avert her eyes. "I know. But if you had seen his eyes…his eyes…"

She was tired, Kunai knew. "Hey, you go get some rest while I take over." She slowly walked out the door. "Poor Willow. She doesn’t even know she got up." What about Bzald? Did he even care about all Willow and the others were doing? "Well, if it’s here, I will find it," although only the walls listened as he scanned the wall monitor. He wondered how Tropic and NoVak were doing. They had been checking on a lead for about five hours now.

**********************

The monster stood at least three feet taller than the other Freaks there. It’s hulking frame towered over them as they ran interference for him. The mass of rock did not care.

NoVak looked down at the huge Freak. "Well, Tank, now do you have anything to tell me or should I take it personally."

The Freak’s eyes narrowed. "Me no know nothing about a Bzald or a black creature." NoVak prepared his next attack. "Wait! Wait! I remember! A little while back we were paid by a man in black to attack Bzald! That all I know, I swear!" NoVak walked away from the fallen tank.

"So, what did your friend say"

He craned his neck up. Tropic hovered there. "He said that someone paid them to attack Bzald," he drawled.

"Yes, that was the thing the council said too."

"Then we better keep looking," as Tropic shot toward a place called Dark Astoria.
THE STORM: TIDES
by STEVE WARD
TO
THE STORM:
MEMORIES
Review this story
Review this story
Stories # - L | M - Z | Authors