When Dan offered his assistance, Angie politely reminded him that he was still in recovery and should not do any heavy lifting. At this, Dan had no choice but to confess his curiosity. Once the truth was out, Mikki welcomed the older driver to participate, so long as he was careful about any prayers he offered. Dan was even given a brief history lesson on their chosen deity.

Khonshu was a god of ancient Egypt, worshipped as a patron of the Moon, of travel, the passage of time, and healing. Oddly enough, even with all of this, he was also a god of justice and retribution because he was such a strong defender of the truth. Khonshu was seen as a protector of children and, when not portrayed as a man with a hawk’s head, was shown as a green-skinned boy of twelve, wrapped in the gauze of a mummy.

Soon a desert spot was chosen; the altar consisted of a simple card table with a celestial patterned cloth and a few sordid items, including a dagger, a pentacle, a chalice, a wand, and a pair of white candles. With some chanting and gesturing with the dagger, Mikki blessed the water and cast a protective circle, declaring himself, Dan and Angie safe and welcome. In time, the moon rose.

“O mighty Khonshu, king of the moon; healer, truth-seeker and patron of justice,” Mikki solemnly intoned. “We offer you thanks for your protection, knowing that your watchful eye observes us.”

Dan’s stomach began to twist with unease and he broke into a cold sweat. This was ridiculous! Was he really frightened of this mumbo jumbo? Of course he wasn’t…was he? And why was it so warm all of a sudden?

“We cannot begin to express our gratitude for the blessings you have bestowed upon us, O traveler,” Angie said serenely. “We are eternally humble before your greatness and wish to know how to honor you, for yours is an endless bounty.”

“And with us,” Mikki added, “we bring a new friend; a truth-seeker and fellow traveler in the road that brought us here.”

Dan felt another pang of squeamishness. “I-I don’t know about this, you guys. I’m not feeling so hot. Maybe I should go back inside.”

“Don’t be scared, Dan. Khonshu’s wise and benevolent.” Angie smiled reassuringly, adding “Only the wicked have anything to fear from him.”

Mikki raised a mocking eyebrow. “Dan…have you been naughty?”

“I’m a good guy!” he exclaimed feverishly. “And I’m not scared. I just—“

Suddenly, Dan’s pulse skyrocketed and the head rush sent him to his knees. He felt like his insides were on fire. Clutching at the desert sand for purchase while the landscape reeled around him, his thoughts raced; what the heck was happening? He had been fine a moment ago, so why did everything hurt? Why did his bones feel like liquid hot magma?

“Dan? Dan, what’s wrong?”

“Did he break his stitches?”

“I don’t know!!”

“We’ve got to get him back inside!”

The blood pounded so loudly in his ears that Dan only picked up snippets of what they were saying. But still, they seemed so very loud, their cacophonous cries drowning out his very thoughts. He wished they would just shut up. If he could just breathe and think—

“Dresden, c’mon—“

Dan backhanded the dark side of the Wheeler coin, and he flew into the altar, knocking it aside and hitting his head on a rock. The blonde turned pale as he fell unconscious on the desert floor.

“Mikki!!”

“Shut up!” Dan snarled. “Just stop making so much damn noise, would you?!”

Angie backed off a step, silent, with a dear in the headlights expression like he hadn’t worn in years. He shed no tears and made no sound, staying out of striking distance, all the while wondering what could have caused such a change in Dan’s personality.

“I’m gonna get you ya dirty rascal,” Dan threatened, and his eyes seemed to glow with that purpose. He moved towards Angie on all fours, gritting his teeth against his own pain, but the drummer kept out of reach.

Over head the clouds swirled in the cool evening breeze and what was left of Khonshu’s altar was bathed in the light of the full moon. Dan cried out in agony, his muscles straining; his clothes suddenly felt far too tight. He tore at his jacket, his shirt, his own skin, ripping and tearing with his sharp fingernails. His jaws ached, his teeth cut the inside of his cheeks, and his chest was burning. The sounds of the night were too terribly loud.

Working almost on autopilot, Angie silently heaved the conked-out Goth into a fireman’s carry and made it back to the garage as quickly as possible. But still, as cool as he seemed outwardly, the little drummer boy could not ignore what he had seen. A scream in the night turned into a howl as he slammed and locked the door behind him, and Angie knew a single truth:

He was, and had been, properly medicated for eleven full days.

“Mikki!” Vert rushed from his new truck—when he could not sleep, working on cars relaxed him and put his mind at peace, so he had been in the garage for quite some time. “Angie, what happened?”

Angie gently eased his friend down as Vert called for a medic. “W-we were just offering some prayers to Khonshu when…”

He trailed off as Mikki was carried away on a stretcher. One of the medics mentioned head trauma.

“Monster,” Angie said, and after a moment added, “Dan.”

“A monster got Dan?” Vert asked, incredulous. Angie snapped at him.

“No, the monster was Dan!! We were praying to Khonshu and Dan started complaining that he didn’t feel well. Then he turned into a freaking werewolf and knocked Mikki against the rocks!!”

“Angie, there’s no such thing as werewolves.”

“Yeah? Well, someone oughta tell him that!!”

Vert whirled around to see where the drummer had pointed to; indeed, a huge wolf-like creature, startlingly similar to what inhabited the Realm of Eternal Night, was tearing through the ranks of the base agents. A man in a Kevlar uniform grabbed Vert and Angie by the shoulders and forced them into a corridor.

“Inform Tezla and the other drivers of the situation,” he said, mentioning something about a security control room. “We’re locking down the garage. That thing is toast.”

“But he’ll kill you!”

“So who wants to live forever? Give my regards to the major, kid; tell your old man Sandoval remembers.”

“Remembers what?” But the agent closed and locked the doors. The sirens and flashing lights that filled the air were accompanied by a command for Unit 7 to report to the garage. Area 53’s agents and staff were somewhat lacking after the latest Hulk disaster, so this was the best they could do. Vert looked grim.

“Those soldiers are getting torn apart in there,” he said. “We’ve got to wake Mel. She’s the only one who stands a chance against that thing.”

“Are you crazy? You saw what she did to the Ninjas! That monster is still Dan deep down inside. He’s just a little confused about his transformation is all.”

Vert railed into the drummer. “There was no ‘transformation’ and that’s not Dan!”

Angie didn’t seem to hear him. “Of course, I’d be freaked out too if I became a hairy scary werewolf.”

“There are no such things as werewolves!” Vert said, shaking him. “There was no transformation, that’s not Dan, and you are crazy!”

“Vert,” he said gently, “I-I-I know what I saw.”

“You never know what you see! You see and hear people who don’t exist! You’re insane!”

“Why won’t you believe me?!” Angie cried. He broke the blonde’s grasp and ran off. With more on the line than someone’s feelings, Vert rolled his eyes and made for the reck room. He had no time to spare.

Vert urgently explained the situation to Wylde and Mel. After all, the only racer who could take on such a beast was the cutest little Metal Maniac. When Mel strutted out in her armored costume, he knew things would be okay.

“Where’d you get an X-Men uniform, anyway?”

“At Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters,” she plainly stated. Mel and Wylde followed Vert’s swift pace to the garage. “Mom absolutely demanded I go last summer. It’s a good thing, too, or I never could’ve taken those Ninjas.”

“This is it,” said Vert. Mel could hear the snarling creature, knocking men aside like ragdolls. Shots echoed through the garage.

Mel’s eyes flashed orange and she ripped the keypad off the doorframe and forced her way in.

The creature stared at her, lips curled in a snarl to show its teeth. It was not unlike an overlarge German shepherd—if the dog was eight feet tall and had a nasty case of rabies.

“Bad Dog,” Mel hissed. She extended her claws and broke into a run. The creature growled and snarled at her, snapping its massive jaws as she did a handspring over it and slammed both boots into the small of its back.

The beast roared in anger. It grabbed Mel by her ankle and threw her across the room but she managed to swing around a pole and land on her feet. Mel crouched slightly, hissing and showing her fangs; she clawed at the air in annoyance, and the large dog creature sneered and growled. They leapt at each other, wrestling for dominance, and Mel grinned in spite of herself.

In all of the confusion, no one noticed Angie Halloran quietly slip in from an alternate entrance. All the same, Angie tried to ignore them as well, for he abhorred violence in any form. He was so quiet that Mel and the monster never noticed him go for Morrison; they never noticed him open her back doors, nor did they notice the small objects he fished out from the endless packrat sea that was the back of the van.

And now, all Angie need was to not be noticed for a little while longer. He had his plan, and all he could do now was hope.