The voice grew in strength, sounding alive again. "Hex wouldn't. [b]Not like that[/b]. Not like that." The voice grew softer, taking on a decidedly feminine timbre. Momentarily vulnerable as it shook with newly remembered anger. Taking several steps forward, Spellbound stopped dangerously close to Agent Reynolds. She didn't care about the other superheroes. Not even Eli. They were unimportant. They were dying. They were already dead and they just didn't know it. Agent Reynolds knew. She had to know. Dead eyes burned through tempered glass, trying to the divine the soul of the worn down police officer. Reynolds was crumbling, she would not last much longer. But there was strength, there was determination. She reminded the dead wizard of Hex. She was just as hopeless. She still had hope. "He wouldn't touch the stuff. He was too full of himself. He was too [i]good[/i], he was always too fond of his [b]damn[/b] morals," Spellbound said with fresh venom, casting a slow accusatory glance at Reynolds and the gathered superheroes. She hated him. She hated him, but she would not let them believe the lies about him. Hex was not an addict. He had never been. He had never been so weak. Not even at his lowest. Not even at his worst. With a simple nod, Nina bent down over the box, a lithe hand taking hold of a pager. Tracing the edges of the ancient device, she slipped it lightly beneath a layer of her fabrics, revealing the faintest hint of alabaster skin before she readjusted her costume. "I owe, Hex," Spellbound mused, letting out a sigh of irritation. "I don't care about this city. I don't care about you. But I owe, Hex. He cared. He deserved better. I'll help you. I'll help you find this Reality Bringer. I'll help you kill this villain."