Mal tossed the gun aside and went to the teen who had attacked Psycho Sand and ended up blowing himself up.

The boy was injured badly, evidence that he either needed to learn to use his powers better or sit on the sidelines. Not all of the wounds seemed to be self inflicted though, unless he’d taken cutting to a new level.

Then another group of bastards showed up. This new group was a gang that caused more trouble than anyone was worth. If the news was right, one of their members had been responsible for the stabbing at his grocery store. And they had the nerve to show up bragging that they had saved the governor, and then accused them of just fighting for the sake of fighting.

“Well excuse us for taking down a rampaging psychopath hell bent on killing everyone in it’s path and not trying to beat everyone else to a get-out-of-jail-free-card. If you actually feel like doing something decent for once, help me carry this guy to an ambulance.”

Zack could sense the dismal reception as soon as he entered the room.

"Before anyone asks, no, I'm not a murderer. I didn't report the crime, and the police decided to chase me down and try and catch me. The reason I decided to do this was that I wanted to be a hero in the eyes of the world, and what better way to do that than by saving the governor? I just want my old life back, to go back to the times when I could walk around the city and not get ambushed by police cars..."

He noticed one young man had some serious injuries.

"Whoa, this guy doesn't look so hot. Better call up an ambulance..."

He dialed 911 and gave them the address.

"Now, how am I gonna get him downstairs to the ground floor so the ambulance can pick him up? Anyone willing to lend a hand?"

"Oh great, its you. Well, you weren't helping yourself when you stabbed Will AND me. I'll help you." Josh said, recognizing Zack from the fight he had with him a day or two ago. His wound still hurt. Josh helped pick up the hurt kid's body, and he winced, he didn't think his shoulder could take this for long. "Come on, let's hurry this up. I also think we should have an extra person along, just in case. There still could be hostiles around." Josh stated.

You're a useless lump of flesh, Jonah.

I am not useless...you failed ME.

Demon, pah...you're nothing more than a pale imitation.

NO. I am a true demon...a demon made flesh. You'll see...you'll all see.

You will fail and you will die.

From the blackened depths of Jonah's own mind, the demon manifests itself, standing before him in all his great and terrible glory. Stark naked, skin of a bloody, pulsing red, blackened veins running over its surface, the thing steps towards the small figure that was Jonah, footsteps shaking the very fabric of this miniature universe. He was truly massive, Jonah staring up into the flaming eyes...quite literally flaming. They smoldered in the thing's skull, its long, bony fingers reaching towards him. His hands extend, his head turning feet pushing him up and back away from the surging demon.

"NO!"

The unconscious figure of Jonah surges to a sitting position for a moment, his dream state shattered by his own resolve not to give in and die. His eyes were wide as dinner plates for the moment, bloodshot and dilated. Saliva boils from the corners of his lips as he pants, chest rising and falling at such a fast pace that it couldn't be healthy, head turning from side to side. It would seem that the lights were on, but no one was home inside Jonah's head, not realizing exactly where he was, the fact that he was in a truck bed not even registering. His hands clench hard enough to draw blood with his nails, the crimson dripping from his hands for the moment. His chest slowly begins to fall at a lower pace, his head spinning for the moment.

"Isa...an'I...who? I..."

His words run themselves together, making little sense even to their originator, his eyes glassy and unfocused. His fingers relax, his body swaying just slightly as he sits up, head bobbing just slightly for a moment. His head tilts back, looking up towards the sky, fingers curling again, a short gurgle coming from inside his throat as his head tilts back down. As his eyes roll up into the back of his head, he again slips back off into the land of unconsciousness, falling back again and barking his head off the bed of the truck. Jonah was in bad shape at the moment, fighting his inner demon and in no physical shape to defend himself, much less raise the hell he'd planned...that would have to wait, it seemed.

Eventually the Valleiy's truck found haven in what seemed to be an abandoned parking lot complete with everything but cars it seemed, exept for theirs of course. The ride had been uneventful, save for Jessie properly dressing Jonah with his own spares he had conveniently stored in the toolbox of the truck and a small stirring of Jonah. Being evicted had come in handy it seemed, and Jessie's cloths fit the small frame of Sandman much better than the impromptu coverings the psychotic lad had snatched before being incapacitated. The board shorts and wife beater didn't seem to look right on Jonah, but beggers couldn't be choosers.

Wade guessed it maybe 12 hours since they had fled from the capital building, and every second had the behemoth on edge as paranoia of pursuers haunted him. But it had eventually shifted to boredom, thanks to Jessie's constant annoying when of he was bored as his short attention span made him suffer. They had taken shifts of guard duty for the night and now it was morning, so Wade rose to find Jessie getting in his morning fix of nicotine while casualty sitting on the tailgate as his feet swung back and forth suspended. Sandman was still out it seemed, but Wade knew it wasn't very safe to let someone who might be critically or moderately injured sleep for very long periods. They needed to wake him up, so with a nod to Jessie, Wade covered his ears as the seemingly sonic whistle erupted from the lips of his brother.

He groaned inwardly as one of the people who tried to fight the psycho-kid tried to carry the wounded guy even though his shoulder was obviously injured.

“No. Let him go. Your shoulders messed up and you’re right, we might need you, so don’t put any more strain on it right now than you have too, I’ll help.”

He moved up and shrugged under the injured teens shoulder while Zack mirrored his position and they started to carry him out.

As they walked, he voiced something he’d been thinking, to everyone there as much as to the one who had bragged about saving the governor; “You know,” he said, “A hero isn’t just someone with powers. It’s someone who uses whatever power they have, however mundane it may be, to help other people who puts others lives ahead of his own. If you have powers you can be a super-hero, but being a hero has to come first. And if you’re in it for your own gain, putting yourself above others, above the law, then you’re no hero, you’re just an out-law. I’m not going to let people abuse their power and hurt others.”

Donni watched everyone talking and arguing about how to use their powers and sighed. With everything they collectively had, they could be an almost unstoppable force. They could handle the Vallieys and that Sandman and anyone else that popped up easily and keep the place safe and sound. But, this arguing was going to get them nowhere. Someone was gonna have to smooth out the rought edges here....She made a mental note to ask what exactly happened before that they were yelling about.

But, first things first. She noticed a couple of them trying to help the kid that had gotten hurt and there was a mention of needing back-up. "Hold on a sec, I'm coming."

Donni concentrated into her arm again. She was starting to feel the strain, but thought out loud, "I've been at it all day it feels, but I should have enough to be useful at least."

Over the next few days, Johanna and Will had to try HARD to avoid the press. It seemed like the press had a tracking device on the two. The school was being rebuilt, so nobody went there now.

They were inside one night, watching Evil Dead. Well, Will was watching it. Johanna was clinging to him, terrified now of, well, everything. Suddenly, just as Ash was about to get sprayed with Linda's blood, the telephone rang. Johanna jumped a bit, then Will shut off the TV to answer the phone.

"Hello?" He began.
"Hey, Will." It was Elijah, "How are you two?"
"Oh! We're great. You?"
"Fine. Listen, we saw you two in the papers! You both alright?"
"Yeah. J's a little weak though, but she's alright nonetheless."
"Good, good... listen, we've all been calld to stake out again tonight. Think you guys can go out to the lake?"
"Certainly."
"Perfect. See you two later."

They left almost immediately. They brought a blanket and a thermos of hot chocolate with them, and settled into the bushes, waiting...

"So," Johanna began, "We have powers."
"Mhm."
"And we work for the forces of good."
"Mhm."
"So... we're superheroes."
"Well, I suppose."
"But... we need names."
"And what do you suggest we are?"
"Well, personally, well... um... colors. What's your favorite?"
"Silver."
"Ah. And mine's teal. Now... Silver, and Teal... Well, we were both hurt in different ways-"
"So Silver Damage and Teal Chemicality." Will said, absentmindedly.
"Perfect!"

Weak weak weak.

That's all you'll ever be, you little shit.

You'll never amount to an-

"EYAH!"

At the shrill whistle from the other, the admittedly tiny form of the ruthless Jonah LeFavre bolts upright. His eyes open wide, hair of blue plastered to his skull with sweat. He'd slept like a rock and he felt like hell, his head throbbing like a drum. His eyes close again when he realized the light made them hurt badly, curling up a bit. He realized he also wasn't wearing what he had been, looking down at his newly clothed self. It wasn't his usual attire, but at least it was clothing that fit his skinny body. At least he wasn't naked anymore.

"Those rat bastards! They screwed it all up! We were doing so good! I can...I can remember attacking...eviscerating, murdering, all the fun stuff. And then rain...the rain started and...I fell apart. I can't remember their faces. I can't remember much at all. What the hell happened in there? Did most of the other goodie-good fucks gang up on us?"

He spoke in a slow, somewhat pained voice, his eyes barely opening to look between the brothers, holding his head. He felt like he'd been kicked right between the eyes by a mule with a particularly strong kick, though his face was all right. The pain was in his head, quite literally. His brain pounded with the headache, his fingers twitching uncontrolably from time to time. His eyes twitched, as well, fingers moving down to cup his face, staring between his fingers at them. He felt naked without all of his sand, which he'd worked hours and hours on end to amass. It hurt physically to lose it all. He'd become attached to it. His lips part, emitting a soft, almost inaudible sigh, speaking quietly.

"My sand...I miss my sand. I want it back. It was mine...part of me."

Jessie turned around slightly surprised that the little hell raiser had actually woken up to his whistle when a very bumpy and hectic ride in the back of a pickup had failed. Now that he was awake, Jessie wondered what they would do now, his mind was drawing a massive blank but the vague idea of revenge definitely hung in his mind as a viable option. Jessie took a final deep drag of the stump of a cigarette and flicked it away as he teleported to a more comfortable position on the roof of the cab looking toward the rear. He let out the smoke as he spoke.

"Bout damn time ya woke up. You were out for what? 12 or so hours?"
"Thats about right, soon as them sprinklers came to bear that fight went to hell."
"Those self righteous fucks ganged up on us! It was at least two to one against those moral assholes!"
"Jessie's right Sandman, seems todays generations a bit more pure hearted than we assumed."

Jessie was staring at the lighter in his hands, the flame twice the size it was supposed to be thanks to the tinkering he had done to it. The flame danced in his eyes as his dreams of destruction took hold. Meanwhile Wade had unknowingly gouged a hand print into the light pole he had been leaning on, the memory of the previous fight angering him enough to subconsciously effect him. Needless to say the brothers were anxious for some action, and all they needed was someone to point them in the right direction.