Last issue, we saw the plot of the Catatonic Clan to destroy the Four Fathers come to fruition. We were finally shown the mysterious device the head of the Clan, Ray Ban, had in store for our fabled four: a de-evolving ray-gun. Ray ban, long the foe of Alienated, the cosmic being from a far off galaxy, allowed the other three to take their pick of the litter: Molasses took Blink (of-an-eye), Sawbones took Bow-flexx, and Roulette Wheel took Section 8.

The battle went quickly, but not in the favor of the Four Fathers. Molasses slowed Blink to a crawl. Without his trusty bow, Bow-flexx was just another pretty boy with muscles and easily succumbed to Sawbones' lethal array of medical implements. And as Roulette Wheel finally got Section 8's number, there was a crackle of energy and a cackle of laughter from Ray Ban. Section 8, on the ground, defenseless, bleeding, turned to the sound of Ray Ban's triumph and then there was blackness.

Is this the end of the Four Fathers? Read on, dear reader, because more is afoot than the ruler of the Catatonic Clan's mysterious laughter which was the last sight seen by Section 8, America's freedom fighter.

They'd left me for dead, the fiends. Forgive them father, for they know not what they have done in leaving me alive.

I rolled over, my body a fever. I was alive, yes, but barely. Which was more than enough. But the others? Did they fare as well as I?

And then the last image assaulted me, of Alienated, of Ray Ban, of the sound of crackling energy.

With effort, I stood and looked around me. To the right of me, only a short five feet away, was what was left of Bow-flexx. Not a pretty sight anymore. Blink (of-an-eye) fared no better. He was now a wax dummy, no longer racing nano seconds. I touched his amber prison, imagining it a hell beyond words. But he was alive, for all this downtime gave him was time to reflect upon his pain. Thank God, he was alive.

That was something, I guess.

I left him where he stood -- leaving him to be a marionette to the minutes -- and made my way over to the spot I had last seen Alienated. I stopped five feet shy. Why go any closer? It was obvious what had transpired between the crackle of energy from Ray Ban's de-evolving ray and the cackle of triumph I had last heard from him as I succumbed to defeat at the hands of Roulette Wheel. I stared down at what was left of Alienated: an egg no larger than a coffee bean. And as I kneeled down for a closer examination, I saw it was now closer to coffee since it had been partially ground to dust.

I stood and looked into the horizon, as if some sign of the Catatonic Clan would be found there. But, of course, there was nothing: sketches of clouds being slowly drawn across the sky; the sun yawning, its face red from a day's work.

It's funny. Civilians think just because you can survive death many times over or can out-race thought or can shoot an arrow straight or can rearrange atoms like pieces on a chess board or hold the nuclear heart of the sun as it pules its nova, that decisions come easily.

They don't.

At times like these, when all seems lost, it feels like having a broken down car on some back road many miles from immediate aid. I know how that feels. I wasn't born Section 8. I was made section 8 by the Army many decades ago, a secret even to them nowadays. So I know what it's like to be a civilian. And damned if I don't feel like one now looking down at the semi-powdered remains of Alienated. Who would have thought this could happen to him?

Or to any of us?

And now, what to do?

It was as I looked at the coming dusk the answer dawned upon me.

Of course.

Timex. Takes a licking and keeps on ticking.

We laughed at him when he dubbed himself that, but he thought it had a better sound to it than "Master of Time". Besides, he had said, "Master Of Time" was a title already taken by a comic character. And he didn't want to plagiarize.

The fiends had left me for dead, but now I was returned. And even though every hole in my body was like a finger in a damn, water seeping from the edges, my hatred for what they had done to my friends was fathomless.

I would have my revenge.

I turned and limped to my hidden vehicle, hoping they hadn't discovered its place of stealth and pummeled it as well.

But, no. It was still there, hidden in the dimensional loop created by Alienated's advanced science. I touched my temple and the car materialized.

I got in and took off for the Four Father's headquarters, thinking, Timex, please don't let me down today of all days.

Does Section 8 find Timex in time? And would Timex really be able to resurrect Section 8's cohorts by traveling back in time? Would that create a paradox, where saving his friends creates a forked future which forks in each future? Would that really matter? Is Section 8 really that crazy not to care?

Be here next issue for the double sized issue that answers those questions by going "From The Cradle To The Grave".