She walked into the room, and there was suddenly a moment of silence.
 All eyes turned to her when she walked in…
 "I like it," Caterwaul finally said.
 Portal smiled, and flipped her hair. It was cut down to shoulder length, and dyed black. "I figured I was due for some kind of change," she smiled. She turned away. "Besides, this will at least make me harder to recognize."
 "From?" Caterwaul began, then nodded his head. "The X-Men, eh?"
 Portal nodded her head. Caterwaul understood… Or he portrayed that he did. Inside, he could not understand her motives… the reasons.
Caterwaul's own past was a complex picture of broken puzzle pieces, to which he could not make any sense. He wanted a past; he wanted family… but so long as his memories remained like fragmented pieces of glass, he would never have that… and no telepath, to date, not even the legendary Professor Xavier, was able to mind probe him, to help him put the pieces back together… "So," he coughed. "What do we call you? I mean, we know your real name isn't Christi… and that it's actually…"
 Portal stopped him. "The name's Christi. Just call me Christi."
 Caterwaul jumped from the counter, and placed his arm around her.
"Fair enough, Christi. Got a last name, yet?" he laughed.
 She looked at him and playfully punched him in the stomach. "I am still working on it…But with Laura Dean back in here, I have a new name, of sorts…"
 "Really?" Caterwaul asked. "What might that be?"
 "Since she has the code name 'Portal' - I figured I would have to change my own. And I have just the name…" She danced ahead, spun around, and stared at Caterwaul as she stood in a beautiful pose. "Call me, Passage!"

 When a child is frightened… it returns to its mother and father, to protect them from the things that make them scared… When a child has been hurt… it returns to its mother and father, to make them feel better…
 Deep in the dark heavens of space, a child is coming to its "parents"… And the world may never be the same again…

 Sometimes, the strangest things can happen. Somewhere deep in space, a child was fleeing for it's dear life… now, here on Earth, a young man is fleeing for his own life as well… Parallel lives in a most bizarre situation. Both fleeing from two different evils; both evils incredibly sinister and deadly.
 His name is Vincent Hall. He never asked for any of this. All he ever wanted was a normal life. Maybe to be a star on a football team back in America. But now, all that has been stripped from him… and he's deathly afraid that soon, his own life will be stripped from him as well.
 Somewhere behind him, a male snarled. "Smart kid. KO'ed Vertigo.
Makes him a moving target. He's got a tough hide, but there ain't been no armor that I can't build a gun to destroy."
 "He's even immune to my harpoons," another man growled, his accent thick.
 "A shame to kill him," a female laughed. "I'd like to go fist to fist with him for a little bit."
 "Let me get a hold of him, and he's as good as dead," a Chinese young man replied. "That way harpoons, shurikens, bullets - you name it.
Nothing can save him then."
 "The way the boy runs, you'd never catch up to him," the first man snapped back, as he began piecing together another gun…

 Mark Carr paced back and forth, sometimes walking around the circular table. The others were all gathered around. "Where's Coldfront?" Mark asked.
 "Probably at Talonhawk's grave," Portal replied. "That's the last I heard of her. She said she bought some flowers to lay there…"
 "Wasn't she made aware of the meeting?" Mark asked, pausing.
 "Yes sir," Mindscan answered. "She was."
 Just then the television clicked on, in the room.
 "Sir," came a voice through the television. "I am sorry to disturb the meeting, but I have something you may want to see…"
 "Go ahead, Johnson," Mark Carr replied.
 "This is Connie Schön, and this is the scene of Greenhill Cemetery…" The footage cut to the entire graveyard covered in ice. Next Flight was horrified. "The police are baffled by this strange occurrence.
A local resident, visiting the cemetery at the time this occurrence occurred, claims that a young woman was responsible. Unleashing ice from her hands, she created this spectacular, yet horrifying scene…"
 "Greenhill Cemetery," Mindscan whispered.
 They all knew who it was… from the name of the cemetery, to the scene that had unfolded there…
 Coldfront.

 A disk of light appeared, and the members of Next Flight stepped out.
 Greenhill Cemetery.
 Ice cascaded from the trees; what appeared to be sleds, decorated the cemetery; tombstones, buried in ice, sat silently, waiting to be freed from their own tombs.
 "This is Coldfront's work, all right," Portal sighed.
 "What's gotten into her lately?" Thermal asked.
 "We're all under a lot of stress," Mindscan replied. "Caterwaul, take the front. Thermal, go over there and tell the authorities we're here to help. You know what to do." He turned back to Caterwaul. "Any other scents? Was she attacked?"
 Caterwaul's eyes flared open. "What the?" He looked around, as in disbelief.
 "What is it?" Mindscan asked.
 "Another scent, all right," Caterwaul answered. "But it can't be who I think it is."
 "What do you mean?" Mindscan asked. "Whose scent is it?"
 Caterwaul turned, his face ashen white. "Talonhawk's…"
 
 
 

 "What do you mean you got Talonhawk's scent?" Mindscan screamed.
 "I'm just tellin' ya what I picked up, all right? It's vague, but it's his scent all right. There's not mistaking our flyboy," Caterwaul retorted.
 "There's got to be some kind of mistake," Passage whispered in awe.
 "I don't make mistakes," Caterwaul snapped back.

 Thermal was using her control over flame to make heat so intense, that the water turned to steam before it ever hit the ground. As a result, a thick fog seemed to linger in the cemetery, until the breeze would slowly blow it out… At least it saved the cemetery from being desecrated but an over abundance of water…
 In the shadows of that fog, a figure watched closely, the newly arrived heroes. "Caterwaul senses something," the figure said to himself.
"The mist and the fog however is clouding up his senses apparently…" With that, the figure quickly escaped in the cover of the fog…

 "We've got to do something about Coldfront," Thermal said, panting. "I melted all the ice, but I am completely drained. I can barely even stand to take my next breath. This isn't going to go over well with the public."
 "Our only benefit is, they don't know it was Coldfront…" Mindscan said.
 "Yeah, but they've seen us on the news. They know how her powers work. Ain't no one else on Canadian soil that can do quite what she does," Caterwaul interjected. "It won't take them long to piece it together."
 Mindscan was silent. What had made her go off the deep end like this?
 Just then a figure approached the group, in the cemetery. "Do you all know Alex Saiz? The one that was known as Talonhawk?"
 They turned. It had been the caretaker of Greenhill Cemetery.
 Mindscan looked at the man. "We did, yes. Why do you ask?"
 "His grave," the man began, then stopped.
 "What about his grave?" Caterwaul snapped.
 "It's been dug up," the caretaker replied.
 "What?" Thermal asked, in surprise.
 "You're kidding me!" Mindscan shouted in disbelief and horror.
"Was his body…"
 "Desecrated?" the caretaker interrupted. "No. That's the strange part."
 "Then why?" Mindscan asked.
 "His entire body is gone," the caretaker replied. "Right along with the coffin he was laying in."
 "What? That's madness!" Thermal screamed.
 "I have heard of when they rob bodies, but they never take the coffin as well!" Mindscan added. "Who would do such a thing? And why?"
 Answers to be known later…

 It's a dark, black ocean. Humans can't breathe here.
 Not without a device to give them air.
 There are so many wonders here.
 So much untouched beauty.
 It's almost perfectly relaxing here.
 A place to come watch and be soothed by the gentleness.
 But right now, deep in that dark, black ocean…
 There is one who does not see the wonders.
 Does not see the beauty.
 And the last thing it can do is relax, and be soothed…
 Though every ounce of its body aches.
 It's being chased.
 By something of pure evil.
 It looks like what humans might call a shark.
 But it's nearly twice the size of the largest great white shark known on earth.
 This deep, dark ocean is space.
 And here, a "child" is racing to find its parents.
 Hoping they can save him from the horror.
 But it can't help but wonder…
 Is it about to doom planet earth, as it's own planet was doomed?

 His name is Vincent Hall. He has barely begun his life.
 Now he's running for that very life.
 Or it might end, much sooner than he could have ever planned.
 He doesn't even know the people who are after him. But he has an idea why they're after him. Because he's a mutant, a person, blessed, or cursed as some might say, with extra genetic abilities. He is able to condense the intensity of his own flesh to an ultra hard armor, which has so far, endured bullets at close range, without so much as knocking the air out of him. The circus he was traveling with called him Minaret.
 Life at the circus was simple.
 Everything was back then.
 However, the life of Vincent Hall is about to change, forevermore…

 Department H has a thousand secrets, built upon a thousand other secrets, like a temple of lies. To even begin to thread through them all would be like wandering through a maze the same as the finger print of your index finger.
 Deep, down in the experimental areas of Department H, where very few know of its existence, machines hum, then fall silent.
 Labored breathing comes from the center of the test room.
 Inside the safety of the observation booth, a man whispers, "We've done it."
 "What of our specimen? Jeanettalynn Braxton, better known to us as, Igneous?"
 "She's still breathing, but barely alive."
 "It does not matter," the voice replied. "We can now begin making the suit that will allow its wearer to control magma, the volcanic flow of lava around the world…"

 That's the funny thing.
 Life is about change.
 There's a lot of change blowing in the wind tonight…
 
 

 NASA or anyone else never had a chance to see it.
 It suddenly appeared on their solar scopes… what appeared to be a small meteor about the size of a small house, headed straight for earth… the strangest part was right behind it was another one… about the size of a great white shark… They were streaking towards earth at an incredible speed, and there was no way to stop it…
 Just as the first one was about to enter earth's atmosphere however, it stopped for a few seconds… then entered the atmosphere… heading straight for the land of Canada… All of Canada and the United States would surly be doomed once the meteor struck… The second one, not stopping, followed directly…
 One strange thing… In it's original course, it should have struck somewhere it Japan, but for that second it stopped, it had stopped and changed it's course… removing the idea that this was just a regular meteor…
 When it struck Lake Winnipeg, it should have sent a massive wave… but it didn't… it barely even sent a ripple through the lake… The second one struck into the lake shortly after the first, causing minor damage, but not nearly as large as had been expected…
 This gave the definite idea that it was a UFO.
 The Canadian government was quick to send a recovery mission…
 However, they found nothing for the first night…
 On the second night however, a team of divers was attacked by what the few that managed to survive, claimed was a great white shark, three times larger than any they had seen previously…

 They stood around the cemetery for a brief moment more. "Well, if someone stole Talonhawk's coffin, that would explain why you caught his scent, Caterwaul," Mindscan said, plainly. "And it would explain why Coldfront went crazy. Probably came by to visit his grave, and saw it had been robbed…"
 "No," Caterwaul shook his head. "I know a fresh scent, and a decaying scent. The scent I caught was very fresh. If the moisture from melting down Coldfront's work hadn't dampened the air, I would have been able to track the scent as well."
 "What are you saying? That Talonhawk's alive?" Thermal replied.
 "I guess I am," Caterwaul sighed.
 "Look, we all saw him. He died. There was no way he survive what had happened to him," Mindscan began. "I know you feel partially at fault for his death, for not stepping in when you did, but this isn't the answer… to think he's alive."
 "I am telling you, he's alive," Caterwaul snapped back. "He's alive, and he was just here."
 "Why would he visit his own grave?" Thermal asked.
 "I haven't figured out that piece of the puzzle just yet," Caterwaul whispered. "But that sure does begin to explain a lot of things…"
 "Care to share?" Mindscan asked.
 "Not just yet," Caterwaul smirked. "Besides, our priority is to find the one team member we know for sure is alive and well…"
 Coldfront.

 A portion of the sparse forest around Lake Winnipeg, a creature pulls itself together, and fights the pain burning inside of it. It knows that it is doomed, but perhaps it can be saved. It is, after all, the last of it's kind. Should it die, then all of it's own race would have been destroyed, but something so evil and vile…

 Not far from there, one of the Canadian government works puts on his hat and shakes his head. How I do detest this human form, but for the Queen I shall do whatever she bids of me… What a waste to have been born into a mortal shell .
 
 
 

 "Do you ever wonder where things begin going wrong?" he asked softly into the wind, to no one in particular, for as far as he knew, only shadows heard his question.
 "I do that all the time," came a voice from those very shadows.
 Mindscan turned. "Who's there?"
 "Me," came a chilling voice. Caterwaul slowly stepped from the shadows. "One of the few people your psi-powers can't detect," he added.
 "Caterwaul," Mindscan whispered. "I didn't realize you were around…"
 "Most don't," Caterwaul answered his voice cynical. He sat down, heaving a heavy sigh, as if he had walked for miles on end. "The hardest part," he finally said after a moment of silence. "Is not giving up when you can't find out where it did start going wrong. More often than not, you really can't tell where it went wrong." He ran his hand through his long hair. "Events are happening every second of every moment; and each one of those events is a movement either for or against us. We just have to tough it out, and come out on top the best we can. When we can't; we lick our wounds, and hopefully live and learn from each experience…"
 Mindscan was silent for a long moment.
 Passage had often spoke of "another side" of Caterwaul; a side of depth and caring; wisdom beyond his years… and he was seeing it now, and truly not believing it. He shook his head after he realized the unusual silence that had grown. "Back at the cemetery, you said you had an idea of what was going on… care to share with me?"
 "Sure," Caterwaul shrugged. "But the high opinion you have of me right now is going to go right out the window…"
 "What?" Mindscan said, shocked.
 "Look, I know you think … or thought… that I was more beast than man, and that I have a 'caring' side is a bit of a shock, but no one ever really cared to get to know me; of course, I didn't make it easy either… but this theory I have… it's right out there with being insane…"
 "Well, what is it? I could use a bit of insanity," Mindscan smirked.
 "Well, it has to do with something Snowbird told me way back," Caterwaul said, itching his chin, thoughtfully. "I was sitting there, when she told me some things…"
 Caterwaul's memory flashed back…

 "I have the ability of post-cognition," she explained. "When your team mate froze you, it was both Thermal and myself that kept you alive long enough to allow your healing factor a chance to work. When I touched you… I saw many things… most of which I do not understand… but one that was very clear was how you had witnessed Talonhawk's death…"
 "Okay? So what's the deal? Why tell me? You think I need a shrink or something, lady?" Caterwaul growled, not liking the idea of his past being probed into.
 "No," she said. "I don't want you to make the same mistake he did."
 "Who?"
 "Talonhawk," she answered.
 "How do you figure?" Caterwaul asked, turning slowly towards her.
 "I believe it was the recent death of his mother that drove him to be so reckless," Snowbird replied.
 "Recent death… of his mother?" Caterwaul asked surprised. "She can't be dead. He would have told us. I am sure of it… How do you know?
About his mother, I mean."
 "He was flying… I met him, and touched his face to tell him how much like an angel he looked like, and I saw a strong and powerful image of his mother being buried…"
 "That's crazy," Caterwaul whispered. "You have to be wrong."
 "I rarely am," she replied. "I rarely am…"

 Mindscan's face paled. "That is very interesting…"
 "Oh, and that's not all," Caterwaul explained. "I remember when she told me about meeting him in the sky…"

 Her soft form took shape. Her sightless eyes fixing on him. "You look like an angel," she said with a smile.
 "That's funny, coming from a half-goddess," he smiled.
 She touched his face, and her own facial features changed. "I am sorry. I did not know there was a death in your family."
 Talonhawk's eyes blazed over with sadness only to change seconds later into a flash of anger. "What? There was no death in my family! I have no idea what you're talking about!" He pulled his wings inward, and sky dived, reaching incredible speeds, diving downward.
 Snowbird could have easily caught up… but somehow she thought it wiser not to… and thought about the last few seconds of the conversation…
 Shrugging, she took owl form again, and flew freely through the skies once more…

 Mindscan looked at Caterwaul. "So what do you think it means?"
 "I think it means our flyboy is still alive…"
 
 
 
 

* This chapter takes place before Chapter 43 of "Birth of a New Dream."

 "There was chaos on the streets. Super beings with weapons were after one young man, who was doing all he could to evade them, while saving the lives of innocents," came the voice over the television. "The super villains have been identified as a murderous group called the Marauders…"
 Wyre sat up. "Who did they say?"
 As if the newscaster had heard, he repeated, "That's right folks, the Marauders. Responsible for the murder of nearly hundreds of mutants in the deep sewers of New York City…"
 "Know them?" Vindicator asked, turning his head.
 Wyre stood up grabbed his jacket. "Stay out of this, Mac. For your own sake. This isn't going to be pretty. These guys are killers."
 "What's the deal?" Mac said, slamming down his cup.
 Wyre turned his eyes ablaze with anger. "You heard me, Mac. Stay out of this. Get in their way, they're gonna kill you. Get in my way, I'm liable to kill you too."
 With that he slammed the door shut.

 He is surprised to be with Alpha Flight as a part of their team.
He's always been a solo player for as long as he could remember. That's what is bothering him most. Why did they choose him to be a part of the Alpha Flight team? Was it for the sole reason that the government could keep an eye on him? He had been, in part, their creation. Now did their scientific eyes seek to pry every secret from him? Good luck, he told himself. He frowned, as he realized more important matters.
 The Marauders.
 What were they doing in Canada? Were they coming for him? He had met several of the Marauders before; Scalphunter, and another, who he did not recognize in the beginning; another mutant, whose eyes were red. He was their informant. Their information gatherer. Wyre didn't like being a part of a team then, and he still didn't know. But at least Alpha Flight stood for something; some good, to wash away his own sins of the past.
The Marauders… they thrived on murder.

 He's running. Not even looking where he's going. The strength he absorbed is quickly ebbing from him, as his muscles ache to collapse and break down. Had it not been for his mutant ability to absorb kinetic energy, he might have broken a few bones. Wyre had not timed to react when a body crashed into his motorcycle… the body of a young man.
 A voice came from the darkness of the alleyway. "Well, well, well," came the cold and chilling sound. "If it isn't our buddy, Wyre.
Looks like we got ourselves a double slam here."
 Wyre could not see through the blackness, but he could see light gleaming off eyes in the alleyway like the moon reflecting in the lake.
But then again, he didn't need to see who it was. It had been years, but he still recognized the voice.
 "Scalphunter," he said coldly.
 "Still recognize me?" Scalphunter stepped out of the darkness, wielding his trademark gun. "I'm impressed."
 "Don't be," Wyre barked back, as he helped the boy to his feet.
"It's hard to forget such a wretched stench." He looked the boy over. "I see you haven't changed much in the ways you… hunt. Killing children and women. I guess a leopard never does change his spots."
 "Why should he, if he's enjoying himself?" Scalphunter laughed.
He clicked his gun, and aimed. "I tire of this talk. Let's dance!"
 Scalphunter opened fire, and only Wyre's quick reflexes saved him and the boy from being riddled with bullets at near point black range.
 Wyre grabbed the younger man by the scruff of his collar. "There isn't much time for talking, but do you care to tell me why these Marauders are after you?"
 Vincent looked up. He had been running for so long, every ounce of his body ached. All he could get out was, "I really don't know why… I worked for a circus… they came and killed all of us… we were all mutants, trying to make an honest living…"
 "As freaks," came Riptide's voice as he spun around the corner.
Wyre used the cover of his own motorcycle to hide from the shower of shurikens that Riptide threw at incredible speed and intensity as he was spinning around like a tornado.
 The sound of metal being damaged was quite clear, and sharp to his ears. Pings and other sounds shot through the night. Wyre spotted a manhole and opened it, throwing Vincent down. He then climbed down himself. Just as he was about all the way in, he drew his gun and aimed…
 A hit to the gas tank and the motorcycle exploded.
 He heard a terrible scream.
 It was too much to hope that Scalphunter had died.
 He was their worse threat.
 It was probably too much to hope that any of them died.
 They always had a bad habit of coming back from the dead anyway…

 Scrambler's body was full of metal. He had come around the corner to see what was going on… His own body shielded Riptide from seriously being wounded, aside from burns… but Scrambler… that was a different story… metal shrapnel filled his body, and his blood ran free like a river… but he was still alive…
 Scalphunter looked down. "Sorry Kim," he smiled.
 He put the gun to Scrambler's head and pulled the trigger.
 Scrambler's body was still full of metal…
 His body was still bleeding live a river…
 But he wasn't alive anymore.

 Arclight clapped his hands together, and a sonic boom sounded.
However, with that boom came a large gust of wind. "They're gone," she snapped.
 Scalphunter kicked aside the still burning motorcycle. "There," he pointed to the manhole. "They've gone down into the sewers," he smiled. "How ironic. This will be like old times," he laughed maliciously…