It has been some time since last we visited mountainrock. In that time, the Freedom Force has grown in power and in numbers, and have faced all manner of powerful foes. Why, even yesterday, the forces of the Shadow were repulsed, and the heroic Ant joined their team. We now look back in on this quiet town, at a building which has grown in prominence. We see a young man, perhaps twenty-five, walking up to the door, and opening it hesitantly. Taking a deep breath, he steps in.

********************************

	Anthony had no idea what he was doing here, but ever since the night his head was slammed into a dumpster, strange things had been happening to him. So, after hearing about this place, and hearing about all the weirdness going on in Patriot City, he decided he’d check it out. So, steeling himself, he stepped in.

	The foyer was huge, but then, since this place at one time had been a mansion,that was to be expected. There was a desk on the left, with possibly the most beautiful redhead he had ever seen behind it, tapping out on a brand-new electric typewriter. She looked up when he entered, and smiled at him. As he felt his knees begin to go weak, she said, “Welcome to the Mendolsson Memorial Hostel for Displaced Metahumans. How can I help you?”

	“Umm...”  

	“Yes?” She only smiled a little wider, and her eyes started to twinkle a bit.

	“Gahhh.......”

	This caused her to chuckle slightly, a delicate tinkling sound that wreaked havok on poor Anthony. He realized he had begun drooling, but also realised that he really didn’t care to stop, because that would take his attention away from her. “Good day, Mr. Gah. Are you here to visit someone, or are you looking for refuge yourself?”

	“Umm... Anthony. I’m Anthony...” Finally finding the strength to do so, he reachd up and wiped the drool from his chin. “And... and I think I’m a hetamuman.”

	She chuckled again. “Perhaps do you mean metahuman? Unusual abilities and all that?”

	Anthony nodded, then shut his eyes, and counted to ten. Yes, it was true, his upbringing was somewhat... sheltered... but by his estimation, this woman could wak past a Monastary and you’d hear the sounds of vows breaking all the way in the Vatican. “I... I do. But they’re, well, not that useful.”

	“Oh, that’s okay. Neither is mine.” She held out her hand, and he watched, fascinated, as she changed the colors of her fingernails. He glanced up, and noticed that her eyes also changed colors to match them. This, of course, was a mistake, as he found himself rapidly hypnotized by her eyes... deep, luminous green one moment, then a clear arctic blue, then a brown from an Autumn day.

	Fully thirty seconds later, he shook his head again, and realized that there was the sound of laughter somewhere just behind him. It wasn’t this radiant goddess, it was male, but he didn’t care. “Well, I sorta do stuff with mr hr...”

	“With what?” she asked. “You started trailing off there.”

	“With my hair.” Sighing, he concentrated. Before her eyes, his hair, a relatively normal length, started to rapidly grow until it reached his waist. Then, it withdrew back into his head, until he was totally bald. Finally, it re-grew to its normal length. “Like that.”

	Here eyes widened, and she smiled again. Fortunately, Anthony had decided to keep his eyes closed. “Well, it looks like you qualify, sir. Please go back down this hallway, and the first door on your right. Calvin, stop laughing at the poor man!”

	For the first time, thinking it was safe, Anthony turned around, and opened his eyes, then immediately wished he hadn’t. No, this was no woman behind him, but what looked like a six foot tall humanoid tiger, in a short sleeved shirt and slacks. “Sorry, Rache, but this guy looks like he’s stepped into a chocolate factory.”

	Rache raised her finger to begin to chew him out, when they all paused, hearing a rhythmic, dull thud coming from the pavement just outside the doorway. It got closer, and closer, until it was coming from right outside the door. All three present just stared, as a hand the size of a man’s chest pushed the door back open. It was followed by an arm as big around as a horse’s chest, and then, hunched over and squeezing slightly sideways to fit through the massive door, was a man that stood over eight feet tall, and appeared to be nearly as broad. Inhuman amounts of muscle rippled over his frame, which was draped in hastily sewn-together, poorly fitting bedsheets. His hair was curly and red, with green eyes, but none of them paid any attention to that. He then looked down at them, and in a deep, resonant voice that was barely louder than a quiet mutter, asked, “Is this the Hostel for Metahumans?”

	Anthony found himself unconsciously edging behind Calvin, while Rache managed to catch her breath. “Um, why, yes, this is. May I assume you’re here to sign up as a resident?”

	The immense man nodded. “Yes. My name is Brian Murphy.”

	About this time, from a door down the hallway, a tall, slender albino man stepped out, his long ivory hair swept back. “What’s all the noise I hear out... front... Hello. My name is John Mendolsson.Are you two gentlemen together?” He stepped forward, and shook the hands of both men. Anthony instinctively accepted the offered hand, while brian seemed hesitant at first, then did so.

	“Um, no sir,” said Brian. “This gentleman was here before me. Umm, do you have anything I can sit on while I wait? Cinderblocks can usually hold me up, as long as they’re not too old.”

	“Actually, no we don’t... but I assure you, the floor is solid marble, I can bring out some sofa cushions and you can sit on those. Now, Sir, please come with me, and let’s see what I can do for you...”

*********************************************************

	That evening, Brian and Anthony had been settled in, when John’s child-like brother Matt knocked on his door. “Come in,” came the voice from inside. 

	“I’m ready for work!” proudly announced the larger of the two brothers, displaying his janitor’s uniform as if he was showing off Marine Corps Dress Blues.

	“Good for you!” said John, smiling broadly. “Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you to the museum?”

	Matt looked thoughtful for a moment. “No, Johnny, I c’n make it.” He fiddled with the bottom of his shirt for a minute, then nodded. “I better go if’n I wanna be on time.”

	“Of course.” John walked over, and shook his brother’s hand. “Dad would be so proud of you. I know I am.”

********************************************************

	Beyond this realm, where light is a concept and darkness a reality, a figure, unseeable, chuckles to itself. “Sooon.... soon... the conditions shall be right...”

********************************************************

	It was late, very late, and nearly all of the members of the Hostel had settled down to sleep. All, that is, save for Calvin, the young human tiger, and Brian, the massive newcomer. “So you used to be a gymnast?” asked Calvin.

	The big man nodded, and played another card. “Until... that day. The purple light and all. Now, I’m just a huge freak, too big to live in the real world anymore.”

	Calvin looked at him. “Just how big are you? I mean, I ain’t exactly small, myself... I’m only sixteen, but now I’m lookin’ at six foot four instead o’ five foot seven.”

	Brian sighed, as Calvin played his card. “I’m about eight foot one, and I have no idea how much I weigh. It’d probably take a cattle scale to weigh me. But I think it’s close to a ton.”

	The teen whistled. “Wow. Strong as I am, now, I’m not sure I could lift you. By the way, got any sevens?”

	“Nope, go fish. Yeah, well, I’m also really, really strong... as if you couldn’t tell. And I have no idea how strong I am, either. I’ve never found anything I couldn’t pick up.” He waited for the younger of the two to draw his card, then continued. “What about you? Just stronger and faster, or did you get other tiger-stuff, too?”

	Leaning back a bit Calvin nodded. “Oh, yeah. Got a heightened sniffer, and my nightvision just can’t be beat. I also got these,” he said, letting his claws slide in and out of their sheaths in his fingertips. “Hard enough to rip though brick, or at least score steel.”

	The game continued, as did their conversation.

*********************************************************

	“Pushin’ a broom, pushin’ a broom, gotta work hard ta clean up the room!” sang Michael Mendolsson as he swept up in the Sculpture area of the museum. The Night Watchman seemed pretty nice, too, and the two were making their rounds, one to make sure everything was secure, and the other to make sure everything was clean.

	As they passed into the Medeival Studies room, something caught Mike’s eye. It was a huge, black sword, nearly five feet long, with weird writing all up and down the blade. It was in its own case, and he found it was nearly impossible to look away from it. “What’s that?” he asked the watchman.

	“Oh, that? That was some kinda sword they found in a shipwreck near Greece. It’s on loan to the museum, here, and it’s due to go back in about a month,” answered his newfound friend.

	*Free me.*

	“Huh?”

	“I said, it was found...”

	*FREE ME.*

	The watchman heard that, too. “Did you say that?”

	“N-no,” stammered Mike. “I heard it in m’ head, though.”

	“This is too weird, I’m gonna...”

	Whatever the night watchan was going to do was interrupted by a spray of glass shards, exploding from the display case. The two ducked behind another case just in time, but now the sword was exposed to the open air. It floated completely out of its case, and over to the two frightened men.

	*Descendant of the Binder, you will grasp my handle.*

	The voice was sweet, almost seductive in its siren call to Mike, and he began to reach for it. “N..n...NO! I won’t! You’re scaring me!”

	*Descendant of the Binder, you will take me up as your blade.*

	Against his will, Mike found his hand reaching up. “H...help me?” he asked the night watchman. The two struggled with the young man’s errant right arm, but it seemed possessed of supernatural strength, as it inexorably made its way to the handle of the floating sword.

	*Descendant of the Binder, you Will become my host.*

	There was only a hair’s breadth left. Sweat stood out in beads on Mike’s forehead, and the Night Watchman was literally dangling from his out stretched arm, grunting and groaning, trying to stop whatever was going on. Then...

	Contact.

	*I AM FREE! After these millenia, I AM FREE!*

*********************************************************

	Beyond space, a shadowy figure watched. “Excellent. His will was stronger than I expected, but it was all for naught. The next stage shall soon begin.”