McQuarrie Hospital was unsually loud and crowded this afternoon. Mostly because of the explosion at Sidewinder General.
Church sat in a small cot, along with several other sick people from that wing of Sidewinder. He was due to be released anytime soon, as his miraculous recovery indicated.
He stared at his hands, which were shaking like crazy. He couldn't describe what had happened when he changed. All he knew was that he suddenly felt more powerful, and he knew exactly what to do.
Someone cleared their throat. Church looked up at the doctor, who gave him a small paper, indicating his release. He signed it, and got ready to leave.
As he did, the television blared something interesting. Church looked up to see a new station broadcasting. The pretty young newscaster looked grave as she related the news.
"And in other news, today marks the release of Billy Kincaid, the reported child-killer, who was tried and found guilty for the death of Rachel Thompson, and was sent to prison for six years. Now, today, he is being released into the world. Many believe that Kincaid is not ready for release. For those naught familiar with his crimes, Kincaid posed as an ice cream man, luring children into his van, where he tortured and killed them."
Church felt his fists tighten. Sickos like that didn't deserve to live. And who knew what Kincaid would do? He might kill again, and more people would die.
Church walked slowly on the street, not knowing where to go. The only other person he knew on this Earth was Tex, and he couldn't just waltz up to her apartment and ask for a place to spend the night.
He passed a small cafe, peering briefly into a window. A small African American woman was eating something with her little girl. The girl appeared solem, and she turned around, and looked straight at Church. The woman followed her daughter's gaze, saw Church, and froze.
Suddenly Church was running. He didn't know why, but something inside him told him to run. He rounded a corner, reaching the back alleys, the kind that the homeless inhabited. He collapsed to the ground, hands on his head.
Suddenly, he felt himself shift again. And when he stood up, he was wearing the ood costume he had been wearing that day in the hospital.
He looked up, and felt the power surging through him again. He leaped up, claws digging into the side of the building. He reached the top, and survayed New York. The power flew into him again, and he relished it, enjoying it's flow.
Suddenly he heard screams. Looking down, he saw a small ice cream truck, and beyond that, a small child running, followed by a man.
Without thinking, Church stepped off the edge of the building. The cape swirled around him, allowing him to glide to the ground.
Kincaid struck the child, sending her sprawling to the ground. He reached over...
And then chains lashed around him, yanking him back. The child took off as the chains jerked Kincaid around, facing Church.
Kincaid begged and pleaded, made millions of filthy gestures. Church just let him struggle while he thought. This man was a child killer, and had tried to do it again, dispite many's assurances that he wouldn't. He didn't deserve to live. If the courts couldn't do it, then he could.
So, with a thought, he ordered spikes to spring from the chains around Kincaid's neck. There was a small shnick! and the chains retracted, Kincaid's body toppling to the floor.
And then Church shifted back.
A small hallway stretched toward a series of doors. Down this hallway a tall being walked. He looked every bit a man, tall, thin, handsome.
And yet his eyes where jet black.
He reached the doors, pushed one open, let it close. A voice reached out, angry, questioning. "What happened? Tell me, O'Malley!"
O'Malley smirked. "Spawn killed Kincaid," he said, "he's taken another step toward our side."
The figure let out a groan of approval.