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what may be their final battle. After bearing witness to the awe-inspiring display of energy for a few moments, a small grin crossed his face as his hazel eyes shuttered closed. His face grimaced in concentration, as his clothing took on a surreal glow, and rippled like pearly water. The liquid energy poured over his entire body from head to toe, and slowly solidified into a form-fitting uniform, matching that of the Enforcers in style, but with white as his signature color. Black leggings and sleeves, white bodysuit, gloves, and boots wrapped his body, along with a white facemask that reached his crown, allowing chestnut locks to spill over and frame his face. While the Spectrum Enforcers' uniforms sported a white V symbol on their chests, Chris' was gold to match his golden belt. Finally, gleaming ivory wings sprouted from his back, stretching to their full span.

While Rachel and Spectra were aware of Chris' new bodysuit, which can morph to suit his needs, the others were shocked at such a display of power.

"What... happened?" Jocelyn asked, her eyebrow arched beneath her visor.

"Spectra gave me a morphing costume," Chris answered, smoothing out his sleeves, "It functions as a body armor, so I can help you guys out."

"Interesting design," Tamara noted, tapping her chin lightly.

"I figure with this uniform, everyone will identify me as part of the Spectrum Force," Chris pointed out, "The people will know right off whose side I'm on."

"Okay," said Rachel, her authoritative voice severing that conversation in a heartbeat, "The Spectrum Force will fight that monster Acheron and Phaedra sent to play with us. Chris, you'd better patrol the streets, and try to protect the people from the Denebian foot-soldiers. Let's hope people have the sense to stay indoors."

"Gotcha," Chris said, one beat of his massive wings lifting his body from the gold-tiled floor, "I'll call you if I need help."

"Same here," Rachel said, waving as he flew out the window. She watched his departure for a few moments, worry creasing her brow as his energy signature faded with distance. Then, once he was out of visual range, she levitated off the ground, a cloak of purple energy washing over her slim form like an ocean wave breaking on a protruding rock. In response, the five other Enforcers rose into the air, and as a group they hovered towards the window.

"Please, keep an eye on him," Rachel said to Spectra, who was still seated on her golden throne.

"I shall watch over you all," Spectra affirmed, a reassuring smile breaking the stoic expression on her snowy face. All the Enforcers smiled a little in reaction to the rare display of affection from their Denebian advisor.

"To the river!" Rachel declared, her voice ringing like a battle cry to the heavens.
Chapter Nine




^...and to top off an afternoon of unnatural weather and an inexplicable solar eclipse, an army of unidentified creatures has been seen marching through the Langstrum Alps. City Hall has declared a State of Emergency for Langstrum Alps, as well as all surrounding suburbs. Please remain in your homes, or get to your homes or some other safe place as quickly as possible. Stay out of the streets, for these unidentified armies appear to be hostile. The National Guard has been sent--^



Stephen Maloy grumbled something unintelligible as he turned off the television in his hotel room. He rose to his feet and crossed his arms, holding his head at a defiant angle as cold sapphire eyes stared holes into the blank television screen. Just a few feet away, his wife Monica was seated on the couch, a large comforter wrapped around her body as she trembled from both fear as well as cold. Her bright green gaze darted from the smoky black screen, to her pacing husband, to the powdery snow that fell passed their window.

There were several minutes of stony, shivering silence between the pair, who had been married for twenty-six years. How else should a typical family react when they find themselves trapped in an unfamiliar city during an alien invasion?

Stephen marched across the room, and picked up the telephone for the tenth time that afternoon. After waiting for a while, he cursed angrily and smashed the receiver back onto the unit.

"Nothing?" Monica asked in a hoarse voice, looking up at her husband. His silence answered for him.

"I've had enough of his nonsense," Stephen finally declared, walking briskly into the conjoining bedroom. He stepped inside, glancing momentarily at Connie before continuing towards his suitcase. The youngest Maloy played with a tendril of her chin-length flaxen hair as her attention passed from her textbook to her father.

"How are you holding up, Constance?" Stephen asked, hefting his suitcase onto the corner of the bed and rummaging through. Connie slipped a bookmark into her text and sat up on the bed, watching her father inquisitively.

"I'm fine," she answered, "Just trying to keep from going nuts with worry by studying for my micro exam." Her pink-glossed lips curled into a pout as she tossed the book onto the floor. "Yeah, microbiology is very

distracting when the Earth is being invaded by aliens!"

"There's no such thing as aliens, Connie," Stephen said sternly, lifting a jacket from the suitcase and lying it onto the bed. Connie rolled her eyes, and rose to her feet.

"No such thing as aliens?" she repeated in amazement, "Then what the hell do you call those... things

marching through town as if it were the Macy's Parade?"

Stephen pulled out a pair of sneakers from another bag, and fixed his daughter with a penetrating gaze. Despite herself, she flinched slightly.

"Don't speak to me in that-" he started to scold her, before stopping himself short. He then sighed deeply, and sat down on the nearby chair and removed his slippers. "Never mind," he said, his voice unusually gentle, "It's not worth arguing about."

Connie blinked in amazement as she watched her father put on his sneakers. This was the first time in recent memory that Stephen backed away from an argument, whether it was petty or otherwise. Stephen Maloy was legendary in Austin for his short fuse, and no one was safe from it. Especially not his children.

"Uh... Dad," Connie said quietly, as Stephen rose to his feet and reached for the jacket, "what are you doing?"

"I'm going out," he answered simply, buttoning his jacket.

Connie yelped slightly in surprise, and rushed to follow as her father went towards the door. She threw herself against the exit, prohibiting him from leaving.

"Are you NUTS?!" she shrieked, "There are aliens out there, running rampant!"

"And my son

is out there somewhere," Stephen responded as calmly as he could manage, "The phones aren't working, and I can't contact Keith. I want to make sure he's okay."

"Stephen, you're not making sense," Monica said quietly from the couch, "Keith is probably safe and sound with his friends. What do you plan on doing?"

"I'm going to the High Rise," he said, walking back to the den and hugging his wife to calm her, "It's not even half a mile away. I just want to make sure he's okay."

Stephen then returned to the door, where his daughter still stood. "I'll be right back," he assured Connie, kissing her forehead. He then gently pulled her away from the door, without her offering much resistance. Finally, he stepped out the door. "Don't leave this room," he ordered briskly, before closing the door behind him. Stephen then hurried through the empty hallways, and down to the reception desk.

"Excuse me," he said, "can you tell me where the High Rise is?"

The woman behind the desk blinked. "You're not going out in that mess, are you?"

Stephen nodded. "I need to find my son. Please, can you tell me how to get there?"

The receptionist nodded, and took a deep breath. "Once you reach the street, turn left, and keep going straight. The High Rise is the tallest building on the UCLA campus. You'll see it."

Stephen smiled, and ran to the door. His eyes widened when he saw that over a foot of snow had already fallen. He stepped outside when he didn't see anyone... human or otherwise... nearby. He shivered as the freezing winds wove through his hair, and penetrated his clothing.

"Damn, it's cold!" he remarked, shoving his hands in his jacket pocket. He began trudging through the deep snow, heading in the direction the receptionist guided him. After a few minutes of slowly making headway, he reached the street. To his surprise, he saw a car parked on the street, almost entirely covered with snow. It was a wine colored minivan.

"No," he whispered, running as quickly as he could to the van. He tried the handle, and realized it was unlocked. He opened the door, and glanced around. He frowned when he saw the familiar set of purple dice dangling from the mirror.

"This is Rachel's car," Stephen recalled, "that Keith and Tamara were in when they left. They were supposed to go to the museum, and pick up their friend. They didn't get very far."

Stephen climbed further into the car, searching for any sign of Keith or Tamara. There was nothing to be found.

"What the hell happened to them?!" he shouted to himself, sitting in the driver's seat. He wiped his face with his cold hands, and thought about his next course of action.

Why wouldn't they have driven to the High Rise? he pondered, They just up and left, and they were in too much of a hurry to even lock the car. What could have made them abandon the car?



Stephen stepped out of the car, and a passing shadow caught his attention. He whirled around, but all he saw was the thick whiteness of the blizzard. However, he did see footprints nearby... and they certainly weren't his.

At a loss of options, Stephen jumped back into the car, and locked the door. He jumped in surprise when a loud banging sound shook the entire automobile. Something wiped the snow accumulated on the windshield, and Stephen found himself staring at a pair of blood red eyes. A cold smile crossed the creature's ash-colored face, sending chills up Stephen's spine.

The creature then proceeded to speak, although the words were utter nonsense to Stephen.

"My Princess," the alien uttered in his native tongue, "there is a human inside this vehicle."

"Well," was the equally-unintelligible response, "get him out then, Exen."

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