There are times in life when silence is the only answer, when all words end in a mournful tone, and the only sense of surity comes from the black and white of life and death. There are times in life when the world moves in ghost-like slowness, every sensation dulled to the point where it merely passes in and out of your life without leaving the slightest impression. There are times in life when you stand and wait, with the world flooding behind you, hoping beyond hope that something will come along and help is all make sense again. For Jack Knight, this is one of those times.

The morgue is a reflection of his attitude, but not by design. It is unyielding in its shadowed depths, with the darkness surrounding a lone light that hangs precipitously from the ceiling. The silence is like a wall, and at this moment, it feels like his only consolation. Throwing caution to the wind, he breaks that silence and asks, "IS there anything you can tell, me, Pieter?"

The man looks up from the table, his hands moving in slow motion as he sets the crimson soaked scalpel back in its resting place. Lowering the cloth cover from his face, he looks at Jack through his green-tinted lenses and replies, "At this point, there's nothing I can offer that would even resemble good news. Genetic mapping gives a ninety-seven percent probability that this is Joan Garrick. Dental records are inconclusive due to the shattered condition of her teeth, but even so, it's hard to deny that this is Joan Garrick."

"How long?"

"My best guess is between eight and ten hours. There's very little cellular decay, and there's still warmth to the touch. As with anything, there is no direct certainty that can be attached to this. She was previously bound in what looks to be common sailing cord. There are fibers of it beneath her fingernails as well as a mixture of crushed dirt and animal droppings."

"No, I'm sorry. I'm new to this type of thing. And none of this makes sense to me. What I mean is how long were they doing this to her?" Jack asks, turning away from the table as he indicates the battered condition of the body.

"That's the biggest bit of bad news. In cases like this, we would prefer to think that she went quickly," Pieter responds, and then pauses, knowing that Jack can already see the exception coming. Finding his rhythm and separating himself from the situation, he continues, "However, upon inspection of her vocal cords, I'm forced to conclude that the punishment incurred by her body continued over a substantial amount of time. She has several scars and strains along the tissue of her vocal cords that indicate a high amount of recent usage, probably screams. There are several bruise marks which appear to be layered, suggesting repetitive aggression in the same areas, with some time passed in-between their dealings. She didn't die quickly, Jack, and for that, I feel sorry for this woman."

And again, Jack is left speechless as he turns fully away from the table, pacing off into the darkness. He wishes that there were something he could have done, but in all truth, he knows that there was no way. Joan and Jay Garrick were taken from their home in Keystone City. Even with the proper amount of warning, what could he have really done? Spinning back, he asks, "What does this mean for my father? For Sentinal or the Flash?"

"Again, there's no way to know. From what you've told me, your father and the rest of the Justice Society -- with the exception of Wildcat, Atom, and Black Canary -- were party to the Ragdoll's death, and it is for this reason that he has returned from the grave, seeking revenge on those who wronged him. It would make sense if they were still alive, especially if he's targetting their loved ones. He would want them to watch. There is, however, one impediment in his way."

"What's that? I'll go out and buy some more if I have to."

"For his revenge to be absolute, he has to achieve his goals with all five that transgressed upon him. Two of those five were killed by Extant, and thus, he is unable to go forward from there. That is, unless he is unopposed to accepting substitutions, which is why I believe he is so determined to place you within his custody," Pieter responds, tearing the latex gloves away from his hands and placing them in the hazardous materials box. With a flick of his hand, he switches on the lights overhead, illuminating the room entirely. A quick removal of his white lab coat reveals the chest plate of Dr. Mid-Nite, and he quickly covers it with his black cloak. "However, let us also take into consideration that I am also a target. After all, I am a name-sake of one of the original five."

Jack turns toward Mid-Nite and responds, "Perhaps it was a bad idea to bring you aboard this case. I just thought, this being an official Justice Society matter and all, that..."

"You thought right, Jack," Mid-Nite interrupts. "We needed to be involved, for ourselves, for our teammates, and for you. My presence may compound matters slightly, but bear in mind that multiple minds are always better in these situations."

"Great, where do we find someone to take my place, then? I'm certainly no power-mind, and what's the Ragdoll thinking trying to replace Hourman with me," Jack says with a wry smile, trying to mask his concern for his father with a slight facade of humor. But there is nothing that could distract his mind from the inevitable, the worst thought of all. What if Ted Knight was already dead?

He hangs his head in sorrow and defeat, realizing himself to be powerless, unable to stop the madness to come. Ted Knight breathes slowly, trying to conserve his strength, but already feeling the dry taste burning at the back of his throat. He has been here for two days, he is sure of it, and he wonders how much more will come of this. Raising his head in defiance, he looks around the circus to the three illuminated rings and the shadows that surround them. To his left, Alan is shivering, his bleeded finally staunched, but Ted is sure that Alan's slipping into shock. To his right, Jay is crying in slow motion, the sonic scrambler still preventing him from putting together solid thought, and immediately, Ted's eyes wash over with tears, knowing that the worst is yet to come for the man who isn't even aware of his wife's cruel torture.

"Where the Hell are you?" he calls out, ignoring the scratching at the back of his throat and yelling as loudly as he can manage. He is angry, and beyond fear. He wants an audience, damnit, and he intends to get one. Struggling against his bonds, he pitches his body forward, but too soon, the pain restricts his movements. "I'm right here. I'm not a danger to you, you've seen to that. Why won't you answer me?"

"Look at you, ever the hero, trying to be so defiant in the face of true terror. But you aren't a hero anymore, Ted Knight. You are a broken man, humbled by his own sins and soon to face-up to them," a voice responds, crackling from the shadows and moving from one side of the room to the next, making it impossible to get a fix on. "What you don't realize, or perhaps you just don't want to admit, is that this is the end of the line. This goes beyond good guys and bad guys, beyond the black and white. You took something from me that I will never get back, and now, I'm making good on all my promises."

"And what is it you think we owe you? An eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. You said it yourself that this goes beyond the black-and-white of the situation."

Dropping from above, the Ragdoll slams into the ground, feet firmly planted beneath him. Through the stitches that surround his eyes, he glares at Ted Knight, fixing his every intention on the old man. The cloth of his mask twitches at the sides, curling into a cruel smile as he responds, "Yes it does. For years, I was without body, but not without mind and soul. I drifted, a result of my delving into the dark arts as a youth. All I could think about was my revenge. I watched as my followers took my body from its grave and brought it here, all beneath the notice of the law."

Ted shakes his head, disagreeing. "We noticed, but there was nothing we could do. There was no direct evidence of who was among your group, no way to track the body. We looked, but there was nothing to be found."

A small chuckle ripples from beneath the cloth mask, as the Ragdoll continues, "But my blessing would not come in the form of renumerance for my travails for the dark lords. No, I was forced to strike a deal for my second lease on life. But I was lucky enough to find someone who knew how to make it all work."

"Neron," Ted replies quickly, remembering the rebuilding of another of his enemies, Dr. Phosphorous.

"A worthwhile guess. He was fairly certain of himself and his uprising from the depths of Hell, but he was also planning something for further on, knowing that there stood a good chance that his efforts would fail in the long run. And I struck my deal wisely. My return is only a temporary solution. A return on investment is required before I can assume permanent position back on this Earth."

"And that would be us?"

"Very good," the Ragdoll hummed, dancing around merrily in a circle. "but it's not the entirety of the deal. You see, there's a much more precise measurement that must be met to satisfy Lord Neron. Firstly, I must slay five heroes to assure my own physicality. And then, Opal crashes down to salted earth, courtesy of my henchmen. Before the end of this day, Opal shall know terror unlike it has known since the days of that infantile Mist. In the end, innocence protects no one."

"Are you sure about this, Jack?" she asks, reaching forward and laying a gentle hand atop his. There is a look of concern in her eyes, knowing the horrors that have marked his life, either through the news or by direct story. Her pale skin is framed by a wild descent of auburn hair, all obscured by the occasional waft of smoke from the candles in the center off the table. "The tarot is very unforgiving, as is the truth. If we look, you may not like what you see."

He sits passively across the table, shrugging softly as he pulls his hand back. "I've done this before, Charity. I know the stakes, and I'm not afraid. Besides, this may be the only thing I have to go on right now."

She doesn't reply, knowing that it is fruitless to argue with him. Jack has always been stubborn, unwilling to yield even in the simplest of matters. She finds it monumental that he is here, asking for help, a complete contrast to his reaction to David's death, from what she has heard. Cutting the cards, she says, "In order to begin, I will need to know what you are hoping to learn."

"I need to know where my father is."

"His location or his mindset?"

"As I said, I need to know where he is. I don't care if he's channeling the spirits or not."

She spreads the cards on the table, shaping them into two interecting diamonds. Softly, she closes her eyes and flips the card on the left-most point of the diamond. "The first card is the issue card, determining the scope of your concerns as well as the true nature of the problem. As revealed, we see the Hermit, but in this case, it is not a man who is afraid of the world, rather one who hides himself from the world, in a setting her feels most comfortable. He has changed from his former self, and perhaps that is the reason for which he has taken shelter. The issue arises from the Hermit's resurfacing, and his attempts to bring about change to the world outside, such that it reflects the world he has created for himself in hiding."

Jack nods in return, casting a quick glance toward Dr. Mid-Nite, who is standing next to the door. "The Ragdoll was an old enemy of my father's. He was apparently killed in their last debacle, but somehow he's back. I guess that makes a litte bit of sense."

"The second card," she starts, flipping over the card where the two diamonds intersect. "is the attitude card, reflecting on why this is a troubling situation for you. This card is embodied in the Hanged Man. However, in your case, this symbolizes not your fear of death, but your fear of loss. You see death as a theft from you, rather than a theft from he who passes onward. You fear that your father's death will create a further wake in your life, and you're unsure that you'll be able to fill all the emptiness that is erupting from within you. And the truth is, emptiness will always exist. It is a matter of strength that we are able to fill that void."

"You're not telling me anything special, Charity."

"In order to arrive at the truth, every aspect must be examined. Only through true understanding of events and people can one determine their fate, Jack."

"Just get on with it, please. Time is wasting."

She shakes her head, but clings to her synchronicity, channeling it into the final card. Slowly, the turns the card farthest to the right of the two diamonds, completing the circle. A gasp emanates from her throat as she says, "The final card is the Lesson Card, bringing clarity to your inquiry and absolution to uncertainty. This card is represented by the World."

"And hey, that's gotta be a good thing, right?"

"I won't lie to you, Jack. Under some circumstances, the World represents an opening, a new threshold that is usually of an amicable nature. The card is embodied with the love of the Mother, her arms wrapped around the Earth protectively. However, love is not the case here. I'm reading sensations off this card, unlike those I have known before. In this case, the World represents an opening to danger, destruction. It shows us that evil no longer knows its boundaries, and through new gateways, will swallow the earth in shadow."

Jack clicks his tongue, showing his disapproval as he stares down on Charity. "That's not making me feel any more comfortable. And it's not answering my question. Where is my dad?"

Slowly, she flipped the card beneath the World card, revealing the smiling face of a man cloaked in crimson and shadow. "He's in harm's way, Jack. Your father is the gateway, or part of it, and the Devil has placed him where the Hermit can best use him. And soon, he shall add to his collection. The end is coming fast, and there is nothing to stop us from being caught in it."

The windows crash in around them, spraying the room with lead-painted glass and beams from the setting sun. The light is quickly blotted out as a swarm of lanky men filter in through the openings. From the corner of his eye, Jack can see Mid-Nite spring into action, tackling the last two stragglers from his place in the shadows. Shouting out, Jack ignites his cosmic rod, "Bright Light!" The room bursts with color, and Jack closes his eyes, working from memory as he jabs the end of the cosmic rod into the stomach of the nearest combatant. With an umph, the man collapses beside him, but not before two take his place. Turning toward Mid-Nite, Jack says, "Give us some cover, Doctor."

The darkness comes without a response, but is, instead, the response that Jack had hoped for. He slides the World War II goggles around his eyes, illuminating a world that only he and Mid-Nite can see. But the momentary advantage is all they get, as Jack watches one of the Ragdoll's men shrug off a jacket, revealing a cluster of explosives underneath. The words stick in his throat and stay there, as the henchman pulls the ripcord, igniting the room is a burst of flame.

Next Issue: The finale comes as Jack must gather his strength and rally the survivors before the Ragdoll can fulfill his end of Neron's bargain. But who are the survivors after the explosion? Also, the Shade and Matt O'Dare resurface with startling news in the child murders.