The Inhuman tyrant who once bore the name Maximus the Mad stared out into the darkness, watching... waiting.

He had been given his orders by Moonstone*, he knew what was expected of him. But Moonstone had left him to complete his task. And there were orders from higher powers... orders to be followed above all else.

(* Last issue - GD)

And so he watched. And waited. Somewhere below, Patsy Walker, the Defender known as Hellcat - the woman of two lives, was enjoying spending time with her family. She was engaged in the process of healing the wounds of time, of making up for all that they had lost in the time she was gone.

Maximus watched the moon and thought of family... and making up for lost time. These burdens were his to bear as well. They hung around his neck, dragging him into madness and worse... Of these things, of family, of loss, he would soon be free. The Dragons had promised as much.

Maximus stared into the darkness and felt comfort enfold him. One way or another, it would all be over soon.

The Mansion of Janet Van Dyne

"Don't you think you're over-analyzing this a bit?" Northstar retorted from his full-out sprawl on the couch.

"Jean-Paul, don't you think that's a little..." The Wasp started lecturing.

"Harsh? Cruel? Critical? Or is it that I'm the only one here who seems to have their reasoning based firmly into reality?"

"Listen here..." Celicia Reyes jumped from her seat on the parallel couch and started toward her fellow mutant with fire burning in her eyes. A hand reached out to stop her before she took a second step. It rested easy on her shoulder. The mere touch froze her step, and made her turn around.

Gargoyle moved his hand from her shoulder to her check, carressing it softly. "I think we all need to keep our heads here" he said, turning his gaze to Northstar, "ALL of us need to keep this in perspective. All we know is that one of the Moonguard moves like an old friend, who's supposed to be dead*. Now I certainly wouldn't want to be the one to say that the idea that it IS him, somehow back from the grave was impossible..."

(* The late Defender Nighthawk, as discovered last issue - GD)

Polaris tried to surpress a chuckle, and barely succeeded. "I second that sentiment." She thought about her fellow X-Men and friend Jean Grey, and her own seemingly miracleous return. She thought of the number of times she'd seen other teammates die, and the number of times they had returned from the beyond. Who was to say that this case was any different.

Northstar snorted.

"...on the other hand" Gargoyle continued, " We've all seen that things aren't always so simple as that. It could be a trick, for that matter it could just be a guy who MOVES like Nighthawk did. That would make just as much sense."

Northstar thought about James Hudson, Guardian, and his first "return" from the dead. That time had been more than just a trick, it had been a trap designed to end Alpha Flight once and for all from within. He crossed his arms and tried his best to look upset. He looked over to Rina who was still staring at him with starry eyes. He pretended not to notice. If his gut instinct proved correct, there would be plenty of other things for her to stare at soon enough. He only hoped that he could get them to consider the fact that it might be their own fallen teammates.

The Valkyrie didn't even turn around from her position staring out the window. "Caution does not flatter you my friend. In either case, there is someone out there that deserves our attention, in order to find the truth. We should be seeking out this Moonguard and demand answers. This continued discussion is only wasting time that might be better spent seeking answers."

Isaac took a deep breath, wishing he still wasn't in so much pain from his recent extended captivity*. He felt like a dozen drunken dwarves were doing their best impression of River Dance on his chest, but he kept his face stoic. CeeCee hadn't noticed anything irregular during her scans**, which meant that whatever it was, it was merely a private annoyance.

(* As seen in Force Works #____ - GD; ** Last issue - GD)

"I actually agree with you" he said, getting the reaction he wanted. Valkryie turned with military precision, bearing a rather unmilitaritistic smile. Isaac had to catch his breath again. It was one thing to have a woman smile at you, but an entirely different sport for that woman to be an Asgardian goddess. Her smile was beyond breath-taking. It was the sort of thing poets tried to capture on the page, but never quite got right. It was the type of smile that made you forget about the existence of stars. He found himself lingering a little too long, moments before he felt the nudge in his midsection from CeeCee. He narrowly supressed a wince, turning it into a self-mocking motion that belied the real pain he felt inside.

He tried not to look directly at Valkyrie, or her smile. Even through the years they had known each other, through all they shared, her smile caught him each and every time. Apparently Stephen* had the same reaction, at least according to what Clea had once confided over a late night snack at the Sanctum. Isaac made a mental bet that other male Defenders felt much the same. Perhaps someday soon he would have to find out which way he would have to pay off on that bet. He allowed himself a mental shrug. It would be an amusing way to pass the time with old friends if nothing else.

(* Stephen Strange, Earth's Sorceror Supreme and founding member of the Defenders - GD)

"I think this is something we need to investigate," Isaac continued," But I also think we should keep the possibility open that this Moonglider fellow has absolutely nothing to do with Kyle."

Valkyrie nodded along with the others. But it was clear in her eyes, and in her lingering smile, that her conclusions had already been reached. Kyle Richmond was alive, and no one, no thing, would keep the handmaiden of the AllFather himself from reclaiming him in the name of

MV1 #187 November Year 3

Central Park

Some say that only a fool or a madman would venture out into the Park alone after dark. As he walked the winding bike paths, Hannibal King wondered to himself which category he fit into. Was he a fool for going out looking for trouble? For HOPING to run into some sort of problem to pound? On the other hand, his vampiric nature, and his denial of it would more likely put him squarely in the madman column.

Maybe the term "mad fool" needed to be coined so he could wear it on his shirt. It would have to be on a black sheet of paper though, maybe written in the blood of some sort of demon. After all, he reasoned, if you were going to be labeled, you might as well be color coordinated.

He sensed them before he heard the screams. Three of them, moving fast. Two chasing the after the other if the breathing could be believed.

They were on the other side of the Sheep Meadow. It simply didn't matter. He set off running and narrowed the gap between himself and his targets in a split second.

He took down one of the pursuers while still in mid-run, knocking him to the ground with a "close line". His opponent went down with an "oof" and nothing more.

Hannibal caught a glimpse of the man he had just taken down. "Normal" was the label he placed on him before turning his attention to the man's companion.

"Stay back!" the man yelled, "This is none of your business man... just go back on your way and let me go on mine and we'll forget this ever happened."

Hannibal was about to laugh when he noticed that the man spoke entirely without fear. Here he was, facing an opponent who had literally appeared out of nowhere (as Hannibal knew from past experience that mortal senses would indicate he had done just that, despite the truth), who had just taken down his companion in a ridiculously easy manner. Yet, the man had no fear in his voice. If anything, he seemed to feel he had the upper hand. Perhaps, Hannibal mused, this was just another example of the madman or fool rule in action. After all, the man and his friend were out in Central Park after dark as well... It only stood to reason that the rule was in effect for them as much as it was for anyone else.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." Hannibal said, with a smile on his face. If it was going to come down to a match-up of the madmen, so much the better. It felt like ages since he'd had the opportunity to take someone down a few pegs.

"Then I guess we have to do this the hard way... Mr. King" the man replied as he reached for something in his pocket.

Hannibal didn't hesitate for more than a second, and even that was due to the mention of his name, before he flew at the man.

But it was apparently enough of a delay. He felt his bones absorb the impact as he ran full speed into some sort of force field. He landed on his back, hoping that nothing was too broken to continue the battle before the regenerative properties of his undead state kicked in.

He leapt to his feet. Or rather, tried to. He was half-way extended when his face hit yet another force field, one that was raised around HIM. He felt the blackness enter his brain a mere moment before it did, a blackness that decided to stay for a while... leaving him beaten, unconscious, and trapped behind a force field.

NYPD Superhuman Holding Facility

"When is he coming?" Hydroman whined, for what seemed to be the third time in as many minutes.

"Soon," Solarr replied, for what seemed to him to be far more often. "We just have to be patient."

"Easy for you to say," the Basilisk sneered into the iron mask that had been placed over his head. "You can at least SEE what's going on. I swear, if I don't get this thing off soon I'll..."

"Kill someone?" Boomerang laughed from his adjoining cell. "'Fraid that's fairly passe these days. You'd have to do more damage than your average grade school student to get anyone to do more than bat an eye at you."

Hammer and Anvil sat in silence, taking everything in, filing it away for future use.

"It wasn't like this in the old days," Hydroman says from his special holding tank, "Super villains commanded more respect. We were envied, feared... now..."

"Speak for yourself" Nitro chuckled, "I'm STILL feared."

"On what planet?" Solarr quipped, with more than a bit of an edge.

Nitro started to respond, but even in the middle of a facility with a power neutralizing field, thought better of it. He was about to come up with a quick and subtle change of subject when--

"Hey! Who turned off the power?" Hammer and Anvil said as one, as they spring up from their bunks.

"I suspect it's the calvary" Solarr roared as he walked through the impotent force field bars. "I told you he was coming."

Hydroman poured out of his tank, reforming beside Basilisk, who was torn the iron mask away with his own hands. "I never really doubted," Hydroman started...

"Do not bother to lie." a voice boomed through the hall, "I know everything that has transpired both here and before. I also know that you desire revenge - yes?"

"Hell yes!" they shouted as one.

"Then I allow you to take it my pawns. I will allow you to deliver a blow to both of your enemies - the Defenders as well as the Moonguard."

"How are we going to do th--" Boomerang started, but before he could get out the word "that", he felt his mouth snap shut.

"I will not be questioned, nor doubted by such as you. My methods are my own, as is my counsel. I will give you your revenge, and you will serve my needs for a subtle touch. Anyone who has a problem with this is welcome to rot in this prison for the rest of their natural lives. Speak now or not at all."

No one spoke, they merely listened to their instructions. Listened, and obeyed.

The Walkers Home

Patsy Walker tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable spot. She rolled to her left, but that wasn't quite right. Nor was hanging one leg part way over the edge of the bed, dangling about the floor. She shifted one way to the next, but failed to find that one mythical spot, the one of song and legend where you position your body in such a way to invoke the power to enter into the realm of dreams.

She stretched out like her feline counterpart, flexing her arms out to their natural limit, and the range beyond for which restless slumber grants allowances. She stretched out, and then began her shift to sleeping on her right side again.

Her body however turned halfway and settled in on her back, leaving her staring at the ceiling, wondering what had just occured.

She turned over onto her right once more, only to find her body slide on it's back.

She stared at the patterns on the ceiling, wondering how many more reminders she needed that she was in a body not her own. How often what she was just starting, in so many ways, coming to accept as her new self would remind her that it knew it's own form and habits far better than she did?

Maximus the Mad stared through the window, licking his lips and watching as the taunt form writhed on the verge of slumber. He studied the shape of her legs, the way the thin sheet clung to her breasts. He studied the way she moved as well as her doubts. He kept to his study with rapt attention until the voice of the Dragon spoke to him in the dark and secret corners of his mind.

(We desire this one. Claim her) the Dragons spoke in unison. (She is a key)

Maximus turned his eyes back to the light of the moon and bowed to her glory and wisdom. Then he turned back to the window and placed the flats of his hands on the glass.

A push, the sound of shattering glass, a frightened but muffled scream, a struggle - and it was over.

Maximus the Mad returned to the darkness from whence he had come with the Moontiger at his side.

HEL

Hela, the Asgardian goddess of death sat on her throne of bones as she listened to her visitors with interest. It had been curiousity that had wrapped around her throat until she heard herself granting them entrance to her realm. It was curiousity that had made her listen to what they had to say.

They were an unlikely duo to say the least. One a god - the other a demon. Or perhaps, Hela speculated, perhaps they were both a bit of both. They surely fit the both standard Midgard descriptions.

She ceased her idle thoughts, and got back to business.

"Gentlemen," she answered, "I have heard your pleas and have been moved by your flattery as I can only assume I was meant to be. You propose and alliance, but have not yet given me a reason worthy of my time and attention to take part in it. What trinket or affection do you offer in exchange for my participation in this most unholy of deeds?"

"Revenge against those who have so wronged you, as they have wronged us all." one whispered. The other was silent.

"And what say you?" Hela asked, her lips quivering with anticipation of the answer she desired.

She recieved it.

"The Valkyrie called Brunnhilde," he replied.

"What of her?"

"She is what I offer to you. Her immortal soul, forever at your mercy."

Hela leaned forward with a smile. "Gentlemen - our convenant is struck."

Manhattan

"I know that we're covering more ground this way, but don't you think that..." Janet Van Dyne, the wonderous Wasp and former Avenger, felt herself slip into advice mode. Granted, she had fallen into what amounted to a quasi-leadership role of late, but that was more due to the fact that she had volunteered the use of her estate as a temporarily headquarters for the then homeless non-team after their split with Doctor Strange than any sort of group declaration. In any given situation, her experience as a former Avengers Chairperson made her better equipped to bark out orders. However, she was also very aware of the fact that the return of Isaac Christians, the Gargoyle, in many ways changed her role, most especially when it came to dealing with "Old Business".

"Don't worry about my feelings Janet" Isaac reassured as they flew over the city together. "You've forgotten more about strategy than I'm ever likely to pick up. After all - being close to Doctor Strange isn't likely to yield the same sort of osmosis that working with Captain America is. So, please don't hestitate to tell me when I've blown a call."

Janet smiled and nodded. "Ok then." Her entire face seemed to shift, to change before Isaac's eyes, from the flighty "wonderous Wasp" and heiress to someone who once led the world's greatest heroes, and who's place in their ranks is not just a happenstance but only her due. "We're covering more ground, but we've also spread our ranks pretty thin. It seems to be that if the Moonguard were inclined to, they would be able to pick us off relatively easier in our groups of two than they could if we confronted them as a larger, more coherent group. We'd also be in a better position to coordinate our search with the larger group working on smaller patterns."

Isaac couldn't stop the chuckle from escaping his throat.

Janet looked indignant for a moment, then started laughing at herself. "You took that into consideration already didn't you?" she asked in a most self effacing manner. "Sometimes I think I just like to give advice to hear the sound of my own voice."

"Not at all Janet" Isaac replied, as he tried in vain to cut off his own laughter, "But as I was just saying, hanging out with Captain America gives you different experiences than hanging out with Doctor Strange. What I apparently SHOULD have said is that it gives you a different experience than living with Daimon Hellstorm."

"The Son of Satan?"

"He's managed to drop the 'Son" part these days."

"I'd heard that, but I thought it must be an exaggeration."

"You of all people should know by now that in our business, exaggerations are just things that haven't happened yet."

Janet felt herself nodding as images of things she'd never even dreamed of made their parade of remembrance. They were all true though, things that she had met, and sometimes battled while in the Avengers.

"What did living with Hellstorm teach you?" she asked, breaking her own train of thought.

The old man of the Defenders gave his best demon leer, "Why, my dear Ms. Van Dyne - I learned how to cheat of course."

Lower East Side

"I can't believe I'm bothering with this." Northstar muttered to himself as he carried the dangling Celicia Reyes in his arms as he flew just over the tree tops.

"This isn't actually what I had in mind when I planned to spent the night in the arms of a man either," she pointed out, "Nor is this the most comfortable way to travel."

"Would you rather walk Ms. Reyes? I can certainly accommodate that."

"I wish I knew if he was joking," she muttered to herself, not caring if he heard or not. If he did, he made no reply.

"Let's set down over by the U.N.* building and rest for a bit before heading back out."

(* United Nations - GD)

"Fair enough" Jean Paul responded, as he added on a subtle increase of speed onto their flight, setting Celicia back on her feet before she expected it.

She wobbled for a moment, before catching herself. "Damn you, Jean Paul! You planned that!"

His smug smile remained fixed firmly on his face, "Prove it." He folded his arms in front of his chest as if daring her to do exactly that.

"You really shouldn't be doing this sort of thing out in public." Moonstone said as she emerged from the seemingly nowhere. "Even if it is late. It's not good for your team image, and besides, what sort of example does it set for the children?"

As she emerged from the shadows, three figures dressed in pure white costumes followed. Celicia recognized them immediately as the other members of the Moonguard, including the one who had raised so much speculation, the one they called Moonglider.

"You're just the people we were looking for!" Celicia exclaimed, grateful for the opportunity to ignore the taunts of her Canadian companion. "We've got some questions and you have the answers."

"How tidy," Moonstone quipped, "But of course we'd be more than happy to clear up any possible misunderstanding or mistrust that might be lingering in your minds. After all - we're all on the same side, aren't we?"

"I'd hate to interrupt your love-fest," a voice said from above, "But I think we have some unfinished business that needs to be taken from the table."

Northstar looked up in time to see Boomerang begin his rapid descent toward them. Celicia was the first to notice Hydroman's form rising from the river. Moonstone though, she was the first to realize they were surrounded by the forces of the Crime Cartel. Which made the next move hers...

NEXT: Moonstone makes her move as the Defenders and Moonguard battle the Crime Cartel, while Gargoyle makes a few moves of his own. Plus: Timeslip finds a friend and Hannibal King fights for his life!

DEFENDERS DIALOGUE

The 400 pound gorilla is standing in the corner and we all know it. Before walking over to the corner though, the gorilla left quite a few peels in the middle of the room. Peels he perhaps intended to one day pick up himself, but, being a gorilla, never got around to...

I hold the gorilla's work in the highest of respect, and only hope that I will prove worthy of the task of not slipping too often on what he's left behind before doing what every new animal has to do... making my own mark on the room known as the Defenders.

Send mail to: Gary Dreslinski