"We need to talk."

"I know, but this isn't the time..."

"Make the time."

"But we're in the middle..."

"We're always going to be in the middle of something. It's the nature of the beast. If we don't stop to talk about what's been going on between us lately though..."

"Listen Isaac... I don't want to hurt you."

"Who said anything about hurting me?"

"There are some things you need to know, some things about me that you might not be prepared to deal with..."

"Try me."

"I'd rather not. Not right now anyway... we're..."

"In the middle of something, I know, Cee Cee. But we need to get this out in the open... and now is as good of a time as any..."

"Not really. We're unconscious Isaac... Dr. Amazing beat us... we're lying in the middle of a living room."

"Then how are we talking to each other?"

(*Last issue - GD)

"You're avoiding the issue."

"No Isaac, you're dwelling. Please trust me on this one, there are something's going on that you don't want to know about right now. After this is all over..."

"I want to leave the team and settle down."

"What?"

"We got engaged Cee Cee. Sooner or later we are going to get married. Why not sooner rather than later?"

"Because..."

"Why?"

"Its one of those things we need to talk about..."

"So talk."

"I... I really can't Isaac... how many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Let's see... you haven't hit it yet, maybe you should just give in."

"You're a stubborn man..."

"Part of my charm."

"Says you."

"Says you as well. Part of why you find me so damn irresistable."

"Listen, could we please just wake the others and get on with what we need to do? I would have thought you of all people would understand that we need to save our teammate."

"Daimon can take care of himself. And if he can't... well, I'm not going to say that I'll be shedding too many tears over it."

"You're lying. He was a friend once, no matter what happened to the two of you after that. The Isaac Christians that I know wouldn't just say 'oh well' and let someone rot, no matter what they had done to him."

"Well, the Cecilia Reyes I know and love wouldn't just close herself off so completely to me. If something was happening, she would be fighting mad, and let anyone else who wanted to help her fight at her side. She'd know that I love her, and that I would walk through fire for her...I'd die for her."

"You already have love. You've already sacrificed yourself for me... and that's the problem..."

"What are you talking about?"

"You want to know what's going on Mr. Isaac Christians... you REALLY WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOUR LOVE HAS COST YOU?!?!"

"I just want the truth CeeCee. I just want you to tell me what's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that you're dying Isaac. You're dying - and I'm dying... and there's not a damn thing we can do about it!"

Elsewhere

He felt hands, all over his body. Touching him. Fondling him. Probing him. So many hands seeking his flesh, hungry for it. He opened his eyes and saw those hands draw back in awe.

He sat up, finding himself on a small table in a dark room, filled with a crowd of people who had no doubt been taking turns at possessing him.

Daimon Hellstrom found his feet quickly on the floor, noting that the crowd while drawing back a few steps, nonetheless remained, fascinated.

"We call you Lord Satan" a voice came from the other side of the room, strong, male and full of passion. Passion, Daimon noted, that could be dangerous if not tempered.

"I have come" Daimon replied deadpanned, as if reciting his lines.

The crowd parted to allow a single figure through. He was a middle aged bearded man clad in black robes. His eyes were angry and full of hate. "Full of himself" Daimon noted.

"We have called the Lord Satan - as it was said that on this day, in this place - that he would come if called."

"I am He."

The man shook his head with laughter, "Hardly." he replied with scorn, "You were the pretender to the throne of bone. The One True Prince of Darkness is due to return - and in his coming, you will be but a smear across the cosmos."

Daimon studied him for a moment before replying, "My Father did indeed return," he revealed, addressing the crowd as much as their leader, "He sought to retake what is my birthright. He sought to retake the power of Hell itself. He paid the price of all that challenge the might of the Black Halo.*"

(*Defenders #200 - GD)

"You lie!" the man hissed.

A smile spread across Daimon's face, "I am the prince of that art. But in this I tell truth. My Father is no more."

"I wouldn't say that," a weak and beaten voice whispered from the darkness beyond the crowd. They parted once more, to reveal the broken and powerless form of the once mighty Lucifer Morningstar, propped up between two of the group's number.

"We know of your condition," the group's leader said with a smirk, "As well as his. We know that you are both now powerless, berift of the power of Hell. But - you both might still be of use..."

"I still rule Hell." Daimon proclaimed, "Do not doubt that."

The man's smirk widened, "Tell that to the regent." he mocked.

Daimon did not reply. "The regent" he repeated over in his mind. Clearly, someone had taken his absence for weakness, setting themselves up in his place. Clearly... he turned his attention back to the man in black robes. "What do you want?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"We seek what any true followers seek - to rid ourselves of yet another pretender to the throne - and to restore the greatness of Hell."

"You plan on reinstalling my powerless father?"

The man cackled, "Of course not." he revealed, "Tne two of you, although now worthless in might - still possess knowledge that might prove useful in our quest. You shall provide it."

"Or?" Daimon asked, knowing the standard answer.

The man just smiled.

"You are wrong." Satan groaned through the pain. "There is one thing beyond knowledge that we possess. The one thing that you will need to plant yourself on my throne."

"And what is that disposed one?" the man in black robed mocked, "Some sort of ring? A staff perhaps? Or maybe this?" he pointed to a nearby table. Daimon stared, noticing the small grey stone gargoyle there for the first time. The Lesser Grey Gargoyle seemed to stare back at him, taunting his inability to reach it. Taunting the world who had doubted its existence. Now though, people would know, they would tremble at its power. In the hands of the madman who now claimed it, there was no telling what it would be capable of doing.

An eerie smile crept across the face of the man who had once ruled the damned, "A heritage." he replied.

Daimon stared at his father for a moment, realizing what he was talking about. "Don't" he mouthed, "They're not ready." he found himself saying. His father was still smirking, but had stopped to consider his offspring's words of warning.

Daimon stared at his father for a moment, then back to where the gargoyle was sitting, with untapped potential... he stared at the faces of the followers - they were simply waiting... waiting to be told what to do next. He stared at their faces for what seemed like forever, feeling fear well up in his heart. These people were going to storm Hell itself to challenge whomever had put his fundament on HIS throne. They were going to do it with the gargoyle... how - he wasn't sure, but he knew enough to take the threat seriously.

"A heritage" he repeated back to his father, locking eyes with the now fading beaten former Ruler of Hell.

"What are you talking about?" Their captor demanded, "What is going on?"

The man who was Satan felt what was left of his being slip away like a discarded cocoon.

The two who had held him upright, cried out in pain, dropping to the ground, shaking.

A being of pure light stepped out from the darkness, brandishing a sword of fire.

"What is going on?!?" the leader exclaimed, "Who are you? What have you done with our Lord?"

Daimon noted the lack of emotion on the face of the his father as he walked forward, striking down all that stood their ground.

"There is only one Lord, " His father replied, "And Lucifer Morningstar is now and forever at his service!"

Hannibal King stared at the knife with apprehension. Was it the price worth it? Would things really be all right again? Or were they just being foolish? Were they sacrificing too much for the return?

He glanced over to where Blade stood, arms folded in front of him, waiting... He seemed so sure of himself. He WAS that sure of himself, Hannibal recalled. After all, he had dealt with this sort of thing before. Hannibal had been saved the last time... Stephen had stepped in to save him. But Stephen Strange was gone... which meant that he would have to pay the price of their actions in a way that Blade wouldn't.

"Are you ready?" his leather clad companion asked.

Hannibal stared at him for a moment, not sure what to say.

Finally, he nodded. "Let's get this over with." he muttered.

Blade reached down into the bag he had been carrying, removing a small grey gargoyle statute.

Hannibal King took in a deep breath, this was it.

He sliced his hand open, allowing his blood to drip into the mouth of the gargoyle, then handed the knife to Blade, who did the same.

The blood rested in the open mouth of the stone figure for a long moment. "Its not working" Hannibal muttered, wondering if they had been tricked into taking a fake...

"Patience" his companion answered.

Slowly, the blood started to flow down the throat... and the eyes sparked into terrifying life...

The knife clattered to the floor...

Hannibal King felt the world stop around him, he felt...

He looked over to Blade.... who was writhing on the floor howling in pain...

He stared at the gargoyle for a moment, wondering if they had truly done the right thing... or if they had damned everyone...

The man who had been Hannibal King stared at the creature known as the Lesser Grey Gargoyle for a moment, staring deeply into its eyes, and knew that the curse had at last come to its end...

The vampire Hannibal King sunk to his knees before falling on his face on the floor, with a smile on his face.... it was all over now... the fight was over... the Montessi Formula had been reinstated... the name "Rina" on his lips.

He died with a smile on his face, as his body returned to dust...

"I can't believe how easy that was" he muttered, staring at the bodies of the fallen Defenders scattered throughout the room, "I mean, I knew they were no Avengers... but STILL..."

The man called Dr. Amazing stood shaking his head in wonder. "Where did they find these crackpots anyway. I thought I'd be taking on the Silver Surfer - or maybe the Hulk... THOSE are Defenders! These guys..."

"Be careful what you wish for" a voice inside warned.

"Of course" he said, smiling at his own reflection, "But I'm starting to wonder if bringing ME in might not have been overkill..." he cocked his head to the side with a fiendish smile, "Literally".

"Oh, I don't know about that," a woman's voice responded.

He turned to see the one who called herself Hellcat springing from the floor in one fluid burst of speed, launching toward his throat. He reached out with his mind, trying to slow her reaction time, trying to throw back her attack. His mind reached out to her... connecting... screaming...

Dr. Amazing grasped his head and screamed...

The eyes of Jennifer March glowed in triumph. "I warned you worm" she hissed, "Never underestimate me."

He stared at her in horror as she kicked him aside. "Now, I have to go find my children, and pray that I am not too late."

His hand found the hilt. Even through the pain, his first instant on regaining conciousness was to grab for his sword. It was an old habit, but one that had served him well over the years.

Fandral the Dashing, grabbed his sword and sprang from the floor ready for whatever would come next.

He looked around the room to determine where the next attack might come from, but saw only Isaac Christians and Cecilia Reyes lying on the floor holding hands, completely oblivious to the rest of the world. That, and Mist hoisting their attacker, Dr. Amazing, into the air by his throat.

"Talk now" she ordered.

He was making some sort of frantic motion toward his larnyx.

"I SAID talk!" she barked.

"I think the mortal is having some sort of trouble breathing," Fandral offered as he approached.

Mist cocked her head to the side, "Thank you Fandral." she said calmly, "I had not considered that." She looked up at the man hanging at arm's length away from her, and shook him, "Is that why you do not answer me?" she asked gruffly.

Dr. Amazing nodded as much as he was able.

"Interesting" she noted, and dropped him, watching as he fell limply to the ground. She stepped on his armored chest. "Now, considering I could crack threw this chest plate of yours with a simple shift of my weight from one foot to the other, I would recommend telling me everything I want to know before I start getting bored."

"Whatever happened to that sweet little girl I used to know?" Fandral quipped.

She returned a faint smile, "Someone messed with her." she responded, "And never made that mistake again."

In the space between their bodies, the minds of Isaac Christians and Cecilia Reyes spoke in tones varianting between whispering to screaming at one another.

They spoke... confided... yelled, cried... together.

Isaac paused for a moment, "So it's really happening, huh?"

"Yes," his love answered solemnly.

He tighted his grasp on her hand, "No better way to go out than together," he said through a smile.

She carressed his face with her free hand.

"Should we go back to our bodies now?" she asked.

He shook his head, "That can wait. We're never going to have this moment again... I want you to know how much you mean to me CeeCee."

"I know" she mouthed through tears.

"We're going to find a way through all of this, and then... then, we're going to settle down and raise a family, somewhere with a white picket fence."

"And a pit bull" she snickered.

"And a pit bull" his chuckle agreed, "Whatever you want."

"I want you, Isaac Christians, and only you. Forever."

"Smooth talker" he said, biting his bottom lip. "Keep talking like that and you just might be stuck with me."

"Then I'll have to keep it up now, won't I?"

"Only if you want to live happily ever after."

"If that's still possible." she whispered, saying aloud what was in both of their hearts.

His heart answered hers. "Anything is possible" he promised, "That's why we're heroes."

"Why is it," The Angel Lucifer Morningstar asked his son Daimon as he stood in front of the gargoyle statute, "That so many people want this thing?"

"I know that my friends want it to help a friend."

"Are they?"

"Yes, of course, they want to help her."

"Of course, father."

"You shouldn't lie to me, Daimon. I have much more practice than you at it."

"It's not your thing anymore though..."

"Granted"

"But I'm not lying... they truly are my friends." "Stephen Strange, Clea perhaps... Isaac Christians was once in that category, but who among their current ranks, barring your sister - whom you shouldn't trust as far you could throw her, mind - are you truly friends with?"

"Well, perhaps friends is the wrong word."

"Allies then?"

"That might be proper."

"And yet, you aren't really on the same side. True, you share a common surface goal - the freeing of the spirit of one woman from another's soul - but the long range goals are much different. Aren't they Daimon?"

"What do you know of my goals father?"

"Enough. I was in your position once. You want your power back. You want Hell back."

"I have lost neither. Not for long at any rate."

"So you say."

"So I know."

"What if my God were to tell me to smite you where you stand to prevent you from that course?"

"Then he would be a fool."

"Careful with your blasphemy Daimon, the universe has ears."

"If he's going to blast me with a bolt from the blue he would have done so long before now. Personally, I think he knows it's better for him with me on the other side. Which is probably why he let you come back to the fold."

"I could return at any time, all I needed to do was to want to do so."

"Some rebel."

"Different times Daimon." Lucifer smiled, "Much different times."

"So, what are you going to do with that thing?" Daimon asked, motioning toward the gargoyle statute.

"I'm not really sure what should be done about it." Lucifer mused, "After all, its not much real use to anyone."

"Its quite useful to me." Daimon offered.

"A fake Lesser Grey Gargoyle is of use to you?" he asked his son with bemusement.

"Fake?"

"Of course. You don't think that these bumbling fools would be able to find the real one do you?"

"I hadn't really thought that part through to tell the truth. Figured it was just one of life's little jokes."

Lucifer shook his head, "No, the joke that life is playing is on someone else this time. The real Lesser Grey Gargoyle will be falling into your hands soon enough - but at a price. Part of that price will be taken out immediately... HAS ALREADY been taken... the rest will be taken when you use it for your task."

"You seem awfully knowledgable all of a sudden."

"It comes from knowing the guy with the blue print."

"Want to clue me in on how this whole thing ends?"

Lucifer smiled and shook his head, "It ends badly. For everyone Daimon. That's a secret of life you can take to the grave. It all ends badly."

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you here and now." the woman hissed in her ear.

"You're supposed to be here helping me."

"That's them, not me. Try again."

"I don't understand."

"I said - try again. Give me a reason not to gut you."

"Because the others will stop you."

"They haven't got the ability to do that. Good try though. How about another."

"What about the fact that I've done nothing to you."

"You got Daimon kidnapped. That's enough for me."

"This is about Daimon Hellstorm?"

"This is about you telling me everything you know about where he is, plus giving me a decent reason or two so that before I go looking for him I don't leave you as innard wallpaper."

"You have a way with words."

"Haven't had a complaint yet." Jaine Cutter cackled into Typhoon's ear. "Now, lets here some reasons."

"What about the warriors code? Can't just up and kill me without giving me a fair chance to defend myself."

"Good" Jaine said, her grip on Typhoon lessening.

Typhoon grabbed hold of Jaine's arm and pushed it away with all of her strength. Once she got out of arms reach, she would be able to show why she was feared up and down the coast... she never got the chance. Jaine's left hand lashed out, her fingers catching Typhoon in the neck.

The oriental beauty went down on one knee, clutching her throat.

"It's a shame" Jaine muttered, "That I'm an assasain, not a warrior - isn't it? Now - tell me where Daimon is so I can let you die."

"I think you better step away from her now," a strong male voice ordered.

Jaine turned around to see a black man in leather, carrying a small stone gargoyle in his arms, grinning from ear to ear.

"And who are you to make me?"

He continued to smile as he put the gargoyle on the floor at his feet. "My name is Blade and I'm here because I have some news for

	March- Year 5
	#203

But if I gotta kick your butt before I do that, I guess I gotta."

NEXT: An altered Blade vs. Jaine Cutter and The Defenders vs. one of their own as A Lesser God comes to a close.

Send mail to: Gary Dreslinski