Riverbluff, Tennessee, was a study in contrasts in comparison to Patriot City. Where Patriot City was a land of skyscrapers and concrete canyons, Riverbluff had few buildings over twenty stories. And while the only trees in Patriot City were those planted in the park, Riverbluff seemed almost to be a forest, with the occasional building poking through. And while the hectic beat of life in Patriot City was a sharp, syncopated stacatto, Riverbluff eased on by to the lilting guitar of the Blues.

	However, there are ways Riverbluff is similar to Patriot City. It is an industrial center, with a key location on the Mississippi River, and the newborn business of airborne freight centered at her new International Airport. And as a shipping hub, it has gained somehing else in common with Patriot City - crime.

	We look in on Riverbluff just a few months ago, when Freedom Force was battling the nefarious Timemaster, and Legion prepared itself to grow from four members to ten, and still did not have a name yet. Here, we do not see a team of brightly costumed heroes valiantly guarding her streets by day. Instead, a single, lone warrior hunts the darkness of the night, using the enhanced abilities granted him by the awesome Energy X. Augmented in nearly every physical way, Night Hunter also wields skill in battle unmatched, with an almost instinctive knowledge of combat forms forgotten by a more civilized Earth. And yet, even he is vulnerable.

	We see his fiance, Amber Lawrence, a beautiful young lady slowly dying, bravely facing the ravages of concer with his help. But we also see Donald Baer, a crime lord, whose incredibly cunning mind has already determined who Night Hunter really is. As a message, a gunman fires a shot that shatters Night Hunter’s world, and the young lady lies in a hospital near death. Now, he climbs the tallest tower in Riverbluff,where Baer holds his dark court of crime... and we watch.

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

	“Baer, I am going to kill you.”  The voice was not deep, but it had a faint baritone to it, the voice of a young man of average size, yet deeper than average convictions. And its quavering tones spoke of a rage barely contained, and a grief about to erupt.

	Donald Baer glanced up from his desk. “Remarkable. I didn’t hear the window open. Excellent work, Jim. Would you like a drink before we continue this discussion?” The crime lord stood from his desk, and walked over to a small side table, where a bottle of brandy and two snifters sat.

	“No. You don’t understand. I am going to kill you for what you have done.” 

	“Oh, come now,”  breathed Baer. “You and I booth know that isn’t true.” He poured himself a glass, and raised it to his face, inhaling the rich aroma of the expensive ambrosia, and hid a grin behind its blood-red contents.

	Night Hunter snarled. “We do? And why is that so?”

	“Simple.” He took a sip, and lowered the glass to the tray. “You’re a hero. You have never seriously injured a single one of my subordinates, despite your exceptional strength and speed, and you have shown yourself to have bought into the morality that Freedom Force and others have sown throughout the ‘good guys’, if you will, of the metahuman community. You not only will not kill me, you cannot find it in you to attempt it.” Baer chuckled, and stepped back to the side of his desk. “It’s a shame, really. Otherwise, you perhaps would have been more useful to me without that pesky code.”

	“Grrr...” Even as the words left the crime lord’s mouth, Night Hunter knew it to be true. It was one thing to tell himself he was going to kill this man, and it was quite another to face him in cold blood, and actually have the potential for the deed starng him in the face. It was an act that could tip him over a precarious edge, between hero and vigilante. Between guardian of the streets, and judge and jury of the night. That was one fall Night Hunter did not wish to make.

	“Oh, enough growling, Jim. I hope my message was loud enough for you.” Baer lowered himself a little, sitting on the edge of his desk. “To be honest, none of the other crime bosses in town know, yet. None of them have had the wit to figure out your identity as swiftly as I have, nor shall they, I believe. But know this.

	“Should you take action against any more of my operations, word shall be sent to Peachtree, Georgia. I believe your father and your little sister still live there, don’t they? If that word is sent...” Baer paused menacingly. “They shall not anymore.”

	“You’re a monster,” spat Night Hunter.

	“No, merely a businessman looking after his interests. Look at it this way, Jim - Amber is better off now,” smirked Baer.

	“What?!? How can you say that?” demanded the vigilante, his anger rising once more.

	“Simple. Before, she was dying of a foe that not even you, with all of your powers, could defeat. The foe of Cancer.” he breathed deeply, and affected a compassionate look. “At least now, her end will be swifter, and with much less pain than you consigned her to. I have shown her mercy, where you sought only to prolong her suffering.”

	The blood pounded in Night Hunter’s ears. His fists reflexively clenched and unclenched. “You... murdering BASTARD...” he snarled. And then his vision faded, and he saw nothing but red for some time.

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

	Hours later found Night Hunter coming to his senses on the top of a nearby building. His hands felt wet and sticky, and he looked at them, and saw blood. It was not his own, and his enhanced senses immediately recognized the scent. “Baer... oh my God... I did it. I killed Baer...”

	Despite his grief at the loss of his own innocence, he gathered himself together. Rain had begun to fall, and woud soon be falling hard enough to wash the blood from his hands. However, it would not erase the stain from hs soul. Only finding a way to save Amber woud do that. “A transfusion. They say Minuteman did that to save Liberty Lad. That’s what I’ve got to do.”

	Meanwhile, in the office of Donald Baer, movement came from one who was not quite dead.

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

	“The human is coming around! Quickly, deactivate the mechanisms until he has been appraised of the situation.”

	The voice was harsh, and stacatto, and though it spoke English, it could barely have been made by a human throat. Opening his eyes, Baer beheld a sight quite foreign to him, though he had read the descriptions of these creatures in the newspapers.

	Gathered around him, in white, blood spattered garments, stood six members of the Domain. Their bulbous grey heads seemed to be almost a caricature, to him, while their tiny mouths were almost inhumanly articulate. “Wha...” he tried to say, and found he could only blink.

	“Silence, human!” demanded a seventh Domain, who stepped forward. By the complex lens array on his eye, and the markings on his uniform, Baer recognized him as the Praetor, the alien commander whose invasion had been stopped by freedom force just a short time ago. “You belong to Lord Dominion and the Domain, now!

	“We found you dying in your quarters in the tower below, once the other human had ceased striking your unconscious form! We brought you to our cloaked scoutship to rebuild you, and send you out as the commander of our new army of terror!” Praetor leaned close, grinning. “You are now a cyborg that shall shake the Earth to its foundations, at the lead of CADRE - the Cyborg Army Designed for Reactionary Enslavement!” Turning to one of the cybernetics technicians, he said, “Reactivate his vocal centers.”

	Baer paused when he heard this, and ‘hrm’ed to himself, gratified to hear the sound. “Why?”

	“Ah, human. We had been watching you for weeks before we claimed you six months ago, and find your cunning and ruthlessness exactly what we need.” Praetor grinned even wider, if that was possible. “You will be a most excellent servant for us, indeed!”

	Baer chuckled. “No. Why a human, and not one of your own? Would it not help ensure the obedience of your new tool?”

	Prator leaned close, showing an almost obscene amount of teeth. “We cannot accept so radical a physical augmentation as you can. Our biological structures are slightly morphable, causing any but the most cosmetic and rudimentary of cybernetics, like my own lenses, to rip away from us.” He chuckled, and continued, “And, my Earth shaker, we have ways of ensuring you do not rebel.”

	“Earthshaker... indeed. Very well. That is what you call me, that is what I am from now on. Donald Baer died this day. Let him be forgotten.” Inwardly gritting his teeth, he asked, “And what shall be my mission... master?”

	“To Mountainrock you go, along with your CADRE. Most of them once belonged to an unfortunate organization called the Doom Guard, who were shattered by the do-gooders there named Legion. I am sure that they will be eager to have a rematch against their foes, who will find them a much more formidable foe than before.”

	“You leave in six hours, Earthshaker. Prepare yourself to lead your cyborgs to victory!”

	Earthshaker pondered. Mountainrock? But why? It was Freedom Force in Patriot City that had defeated them, not Legion. ‘There is far more to this than on the surface,’ he pondered. And as for those “means of ensuring obedience”... they shall be among the first of the problems I shall solve...’