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The conversation goes quiet, and they continue on in silence until they reach a dead end. The torch’s flicker reveals something resembling a sealed doorway in front of them that stretches wide and high. However, the door’s exterior appears neither wooden, stone nor metal. More so it seems fluid, its ultra-black color swirling and ebbing,

Abby dims her self-generated light as she enters the well-lit room. Frank steps in behind her, getting his first look at the three remaining Feared members: Wayfarer, Tranquility, and the Possessor.

Her make-shift spotlight shines on Gemini, unconscious and laid out across a round table like a discarded rag-doll.

In a small row boat, Frank and Abby drift across the quiet East River, edging closer to the darkened island’s overgrown tree line.

Plopping down onto Night Terror’s mid-section, the woman – Blitz – glares down with a fierce snarl plastered on her face.

Perched on the edge of a rooftop 15 stories high, Night Terror spies down at the streets below. With his dark hooded cape draped around him, he is but a black spot in the night sky should anyone look upwards.

The board reads “X X X come in dribbles”.

Next to him, propped up against the back of the bench, is a pair of ‘sandwich’ boards connected by two frayed black shoulder straps. Perhaps the boards’ prior owner promoted a local lunch special or maybe the impending doom of the world. Whatever their origin, they were now the prized possession of this bald scrawny