“Welcome back fans to Unlimited Football League Sunday Wrap Up, I am your host Kendall Black, here with my partners Stewart Mars and Lisa Keil. Now for the Las Vegas Gamblers and San Diego Dragons spectacular from Roxxon-New Bay Stadium. The Gamblers went into the game 2-2 after a brutal overtime defeat last Monday night by the Seattle Knights. The Dragons were on fire at 3-1 and looked great in their dismantling of the Dallas Lawmen last weekend.

"The game started as expected, with the Gambler’s stingy defense, ranked seventh against the rush and eleventh overall, holding Dragon’s quarterback Kimble Cartz to only 30 passing yards and running back Lamar Stratford to just 24 rushing yards in the first half. Meanwhile, the Gambler’s superstar rusher Chester Maize racked up an impressive 84 yards on the ground, including two smash-mouth assaults for 27 and 41 yards, but the rest of the offense couldn’t capitalize, and the Gamblers could only manage a 6-0 lead at the half.

"Then tragedy struck after the half. On only the third play of the third quarter, defensive back Rolando Jackson took down Chester Maize hard, and he didn’t get back up. The word we are receiving now is several broken ribs and a crushed lung. The superstar is out for the foreseeable future.

"No problem says Gambler’s coach Dick Girard, he sends in back-up running back Phil Grayfield. Phil who you ask? Nobody else knew either. Six months ago this kid was apparently a bouncer at a Vegas casino. Spurred to try-out at Gambler’s training camp by good friend, and Gambler cornerback Randall Savage, Grayfield impressed enough to stick around through the pre-season, and earn a spot as back-up on the roster on this running back thin season.

"So what could this kid do? Second play from scrimmage he runs for 67 yards, evades three tackles, and scores one beautiful touchdown. This kid looked like an all-pro. He was evading tacklers left and right. He simple was unstoppable, and on fire.

"By the end of the game, Mr. Grayfield racked up 107 yards and two touchdowns in what was one of the most unexpected and spectacular displays I can remember. What a jackpot.”

“Welcome back to Thursday Night Sports Extra, I’m Donell Taylor.

"Well, the ‘Sin City Cinderella’ story seems to have come to an end early Wednesday morning. Nearly two years after he came from obscurity to become a national superstar, Las Vegas Gambler’s running back Phil Grayfield, who rushed for 147 yards and two touchdowns last weekend against the Louisiana Gators, was caught in a four-car automobile accident outside Las Vegas. The accident, apparently caused by a drunken driver, left three dead and at least four injured. Grayfield, who was driving his ’99 Prowler when he was struck and pushed into another car, apparently has sustained serious damage to his lower spinal cord and legs. Grayfield was taken to St. Thomas hospital where he is still located, and listed in critical condition. Speculations are that Grayfield will be lucky to ever walk again, and that his football career is a thing of the past. We will keep you updated as this story continues to develop…”

“He is down the hall, the last door to the right.”

Phil Grayfield turned his head briefly as he heard his nurse admit the visitor, then turned his attention back to the scene unveiling outside his den’s large window. Two kittens, probably his neighbors, had made their way into his now unkempt garden. He admired their youthful exuberance and graceful agility as they leaped and frolicked through the tall weeds. He had been like them once. Now he was nothing more than a broken, and useless nothing man.

Phil heard the door to the room slowly open, but decided than watching the kittens was more interesting than whatever this visitor intended to say. People mattered little to Phil since the accident. He felt little other than pain and loss, and their attempts to comfort him had made things worse. He didn’t need or want their sorrow or their pity or their sympathies. His wife, Sarah, had left months ago. Even his parents stopped visiting or calling, he had heard the nurse occasionally provided them with their required doses of information.

“Hello Mr. Grayfield, my name is Abraham Lincoln Carlyle, and I am here to make you a deal.”

Phil barely suppressed a sadistic laugh as he pushed the button to turn his wheelchair around to face his presumptuous visitor. He crinkled his nose as he inspected the seemingly arrogant stranger. He was a very tall man, easy over six feet, with a thin, wiry-looking frame. His hair was a pristine snow white, including his moustache and goatee. He had eyes of the clearest blue, set in a face betrayed by many lines suggesting a man of late forties or early fifties. He wore an expensive Armani suit accented by a large, star-shaped medallion around his chest. He stood rigidly straight and seemed to carry himself in a very dignified manner.

Phil rolled his eyes as he completed his mental catalogue, and turned his attention instead to a bottle of painkillers that sat on the television next to a half drank bottle of Jose Cuervo.

“What is it you think you can offer me, Mr. Emancipation Proc-lo-mation?”

Undaunted by Phil’s comments, Abraham responded, “Freedom Mr. Grayfield. I want to give you the legs back that were stolen from you in that shameless tragedy. I want to take away your pain and suffering and give your life new meaning and direction.”

Phil again suppressed a laugh as he popped the cap from the pill bottle, and swallowed a handful, followed quickly by a gulp of tequila. Phil’s contempt was unmistakable, “Well, that certainly is one I haven’t heard in a while. Well, two things come to mind. First, how do you think you can help me when every doctor in the country couldn’t? Second, what is in it for you? My bank account is almost depleted and I am not exactly a money-making machine these days.”

Phil watched as Abraham seemed to momentarily immerse himself in deep thought, then calmly lowered himself to Phil’s eye level. He than began to speak in a very quiet, yet confident manner.

“First, I have business associates in the genetic manipulation business. For a favor or two she’ll have no problem not only making you as good as you were before the accident, but she might even make a few improvements, and have you feeling better than you have in your entire life.

As for what is in it for me…well…I just require your attention. I have a dream, more of a vision in fact. I just want you to listen to me, to see my vision, and if you want, be my partner in building a better future for this country that I hold so dear.”

As Phil watched, and heard the words from Carlyle’s mouth, he was moved. That hadn’t happened for a long time now. He looked at the man for a sign of falsehood or dishonesty, but there seemed to be none whatsoever. He was apparently, as far as Phil could tell, completely genuine and honest.

“You have yourself a deal Mr. Carlyle. You make me back into a man and I’ll help you however I can.”

Abraham gave a small nod of acknowledgement and rose again to his full stature. Then he gave a warm, healthy smile as he raised his hand from his side and tightly clutched the medallion hanging around his neck. He mumbled a single word too low for Phil to understand, then the room was filled with a blinding flash of white light.

When Phil’s vision finally returned he realized that there was a third person standing in the room with them. It was a woman, but unlike any woman Phil Grayfield had ever seen before. First she was covered shining metal armor, including a vicious looking battle helmet and multiple swords sheathed all over her person. More disturbing were his arms. He had not two, but six of them.

Carlyle spoke, “This is my ‘friend’ Spiral, she is the one that is going to put you back together my friend.”

Phil, struck by the awe of the moment, as well as the mass quantities of painkillers and tequila in his system, could do little more than stare as Spiral started to twist and contort in strange ways, and the dance seem to charge the room with electricity.

Spiral spoke in a seductive, slow voice, “Let us be off to my Body Works darling, I will make you into a brand new man.”

With that the pair disappeared in a blinding flash of white light, and, with his mission finished, Abraham Lincoln Carlyle put on the gloves from his pocket and prepared to dispatch the nurse which had seen him in, the only witness to his visit to a run-down, broken football has-been.

Phil Grayfield emerged from the blinding white light of the teleportation spell, with his companion Spiral by his side. He noticed his benefactor, Abraham Carlyle standing about four feet in front of him. He also noticed the lavish splendor of his surroundings. Spiral had mentioned that she would be taking him to Carlyle’s home, and to say the least, Phil was impressed. The garden they stood in was vast and filled with every type of rose color imaginable. Behind Carlyle stood a gigantic, sprawling mansion that seemed to stretch for miles. Spiral had mentioned a few tidbits about Carlyle and his power, but for the most part had been secretive, saying that it was best that Phil learn about Carlyle from the man himself.

Thinking of Spiral, Phil turned to the woman standing next to him, smiled warmly, and kissed her passionately. He noticed from the corner of his eye the jaw of Carlyle drop, and he derived a high degree of satisfaction from the look on the man’s face.

“Goodbye lover,” commented Spiral as she pulled herself away from Phil, smiled warmly, and turned to address the gaping jaw of Carlyle. “Don’t be so surprised Abe,” she said with a laugh, “Even us extra-dimensional entities have needs.” With that she began a fluid string of hand motions and soon disappeared into a blinding flash of white light.

"Well, you certainly must be feeling better,” Carlyle said to Phil, regaining his composure as he reached down to pick a dead petal of a white rose.

“You were right,” Phil commented, seeming to be more interested in savoring Spiral’s last moments before departure, “I have never felt this good in my entire life. That ‘Body Shop’ of hers is one amazing place. Hurt worse than anything there for a while, but I’d been in pain for so long, seems like a fading memory now.”

“I picked up a few of those ‘modifications’ as well as a healthy set of legs. Spiral said I already had the potential in my body, they just ‘brought it out’. My speed and agility is about twice that of a normal human. I also have increased strength. Oh, and I can do this…”

Phil shot straight into the air, then flew around the garden in a gust of wind and quickly settled right back in his spot in front of Carlyle. Abe noted the smug smile of Phil’s face, he seemed to be very proud of himself.

“Excellent,” Carlyle said as he turned towards the mansion and beckoned for Phil to follow, “Let us go inside, and you can meet some of my other associates.”

Phil followed Carlyle into the lavish mansion, which impressed as much inside as it did without. The entire history of the United States seemed to be sprawled along the hallway, which they walked down. A pair of authentic looking pistols and a Texas Ranger badge adorned a display case. A picture of the delegates signing the constitution covered a large portion of wall. Pictures of celebrities, standing with Carlyle, included former presidents Carter and Reagan, movie stars like Elizabeth Taylor and Charelton Heston, and sports figures like Reggie Jackson and Joe Namath.

Phil was so engrossed in the scenery he barely noticed when the hall ended and the two entered an elevator, which took them several floors down.

When the trip stopped, they stepped out into a gigantic training facility. As Phil regained his composure, Grayfield spread his arms wide and began to speak in a very excited tone.

“Welcome to the home base of Team America. It took me nearly five years to complete this facility, but it was worth every minute, and every million I paid for it. This facility is strictly top of the line, state of the art. There isn’t a finer one I know of in this country. The people currently working out are the other members of the ‘Team’.”

First, Carlyle pointed to a young, blond girl practicing on a set of parallel bars, Phil noticed that she was very pretty, but also very young. He figured that she couldn’t be more than eighteen years old.

“That is Cathy Webster. She goes by the codename Lady Liberty. No super-powers to speak of, but she is one of the finest gymnasts I have every seen. She wears a special suit, which projects a personal force field and has a torch, which packs a nasty little blast. Kid has a helluva good aim as well.”

Carlyle turned Phil’s attention to a man, again very young looking in age. Phil began to wonder if he was being recruited into Young Justice or something. Phil watched as the young man, wearing sunglasses and dressed in almost all black, began to battle a robot of nearly twice his size. Phil was aghast as suddenly the teen seemed to split into two, then four of himself, and quickly the ‘group’ was able to ‘confuse’ and defeat the robot.

“That one is Jamie Madrox. He goes by the name Silent Majority. As you can see, he has the ability to create multiple copies of himself. Very powerful, we have yet to discover how many copies of himself he can make. But he had a very traumatic youth and we are still working through his ‘issues’.

“The other member of our team currently on-sight is Serena Everett. She is the granddaughter of golden-ager Amazing Man. She goes by the code name Amazing Grace. She has the ability to absorb and adapt her body to anything she touches. She is probably in the adjacent library, she is the cerebral member of our team, spends most of her time with her nose in a book.”

“Stonewall, the final member of our team, is currently out running, and you will meet him later. Don’t worry, I noticed as you viewed the kids here that you seemed to be apprehensive, probably due to their youth. They are both able to handle themselves, Serena is about your age, and Stonewall is an old duffer just like me.”

“Now,” Carlyle said as he walked into the room, and beckoned once more for Phil to follow, “lets go into the conference room on the east wing, we’ll have something cold to drink, and I’ll tell you about my dream…”