Streets of Rage Saga

“ THIS CITY WAS ONCE A HAPPY, PEACEFUL PLACE… UNTIL ONE DAY, A POWERFUL SECRET CRIMINAL ORGANIZATION TOOK OVER. THIS VICIOUS SYNDICATE SOON HAD CONTROL OF THE GOVERNMENT AND EVEN THE POLICE FORCE. THE CITY HAS BECOME A CENTER OF VIOLENCE AND CRIME WHERE NO ONE IS SAFE. AMID THIS TURMOIL, A GROUP OF DETERMINED YOUNG POLICE OFFICERS HAS SWORN TO CLEAN UP THE CITY. AMONG THEM ARE ADAM HUNTER, AXEL STONE AND BLAZE FIELDING. THEY ARE WILLING TO RISK ANYTHING... EVEN THEIR LIVES... ON THE... STREETS OF RAGE

” 2

THE COMPLETE SERIES

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For my wife Marci, and my two children, Lois and Jackson.

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Streets of Rage: The Complete Series © 1995-2010 Matthew Drury, All Rights Reserved. Based on the best selling video games from SEGA www.streetsofrage.net

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The moral right of the author has been asserted. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced in any form without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book. This book is unsuitable for children. Not just violence, swearing, drugs and sexual references (frequent and strong, including rape), but also disturbing sequences, political themes, religious allegory and psychological concepts that are designed for an adult audience.

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CONTENTS

BOOK I: CYGNUS THRESHOLD

p…7

BOOK II: ORIGINS

p…87

BOOK III: PROJECT Y

p. 194

BOOK IV: THE NEW SYNDICATE

p. 283

BOOK V: SYNDICATE WARS – THE RISE OF DREADNOUGHT

p. 376

BOOK VI: FACE OF THE DRAGON

p. 501

BOOK VII: THE SONS OF DARKNESS

p. 686

BOOK VIII: DUALITY

p. 720

BOOK IX: BEHIND THE WORLD

p. 805

APPENDIX: TIMELINE OF EVENTS

p. 875

Acknowledgements

p. 900

About the Author

p. 901

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BOOK I

CYGNUS THRESHOLD

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PROLOGUE

12 miles outside Los Angeles, California March 17th, 2012

Officer Axel Stone was thinking that either his right front tyre was a little low or there was something wrong with the shock on that side. On the other hand, maybe the road grader operator hadn’t been watching the adjustment on his blade and he’d tilted the road. Whatever the cause, Axel’s patrol car was pulling just a little to the right. He made the required correction, frowning. He was dog-tired. The radio speaker made an uncertain noise, then produced the voice of Officer Adam Hunter. “… running on fumes. I’m going to have to buy some of that high-cost W. Kelly’s gasoline or walk home.” “If you do, I’d advise paying for it out of your pocket,” Axel said. “Better than explaining to the captain why you forgot to fill it up.” “I think…” Adam said and then the voice faded out. “Your signal’s breaking up,” Axel said. “I don’t read you.” Adam was using Unit 44, a notorious gas hog. Something wrong with the fuel pump, maybe. It was always in the shop and nobody ever quite fixed it. Silence. Static. Silence. The steering seemed to be better now. Probably not a low tyre. Probably… And then the radio intruded again. “… gonna catch that son-of-a-bitch with the gun in his hand,” Adam was saying. “I’ll bet then…” The Adam voice vanished, replaced by silence. “I’m not reading you,” Axel said into his mike. “Adam, you’re breaking up.” Which wasn’t altogether unusual. There were a dozen or so places in California where radio transmission was blocked for a variety of reasons. Axel presumed these radio blind spots were caused by the elevation of the mountains here around the LA basin, but there were other theories amongst his colleagues back at the station. Whatever the case, none of the areas were very large and he was sure he’d pass through it in no time at all. Axel Stone was twenty years old, still very young and inexperienced, but he’d grown up here in California; he’d spent his whole life here, and he liked to think that his local knowledge helped towards making him a better, more efficient cop than the average rookie who had joined the force from a different city or state. Being a black belt in several martial arts also helped his confidence, even though he was technically forbidden to use them whilst on duty. He’d been a police officer for just under two years now, having graduated from the LAPD Police Academy at the top of his class in 2010. In those two years, his work as a patrol officer sometimes seemed mundane and routine, but he was determined to climb the career ladder and make more of a difference to the world someday. One of the many advantages of being young, his father had once told him, was that the world was still ahead of you. 8

Then Axel heard the voice of Adam Hunter again. The voice was very faint at first. “… his car,” Adam was saying. (Or was it “… his truck”? Or “… his pickup”? Exactly, precisely, what had Adam Hunter said?) Suddenly the transmission became clearer, the sound of Adam’s delighted laughter. “I’m gonna get him this time,” he said. Axel picked up the mike. “Who are you getting?” he said. “Adam, do you need assistance?” “I’m gonna bust his ass,” Adam seemed to say. At least it sounded like that. The reception was going sour again, fading, breaking up into static. “Can’t read you,” Axel said. “You need assistance?” Through the fade-out, through the static, Adam seemed to say “No.” Again, laughter. “I’ll see you at W. Kelly’s then,” Axel said. “It’s your turn to buy.” There was no response to that at all, except static. Axel sighed. He felt a slight concern for Adam’s safety, but he wasn’t overly worried about him. The guy wasn’t stupid, Axel knew, and he could certainly handle himself. Adam Hunter was a good friend, Axel’s best buddy at the Police Academy, in fact. They’d spent many hours together at the Academy’s Police Revolver and Athletics Club, developing their shooting skills, exercising in the tennis court, swimming pool, gymnasium, and weight room. Now, two years after graduation and receiving their badges, they were both patrol officers on opposite sides of the city, but whenever they got the chance they met up, had a coffee and talked. Having it this evening at the W. Kelly’s service station office-grocery store in Pomona had been decided earlier, and it was upon W. Kelly’s that they were converging. Axel was driving southward through Azusa, while Adam was driving eastward from San Gabriel, and would probably have been fifteen minutes early. But now he seemed to have an arrest to make. That would even things up. There was lightning in the cloud overhead now. It was twilight – twilight induced early by the impending thunderstorm – when Axel pulled his patrol car off the mountainous track and onto the pavement of Highway 215. When he left the freeway and joined the streets on the outskirts of Pomona, there was still no sign of Adam. In fact, no sign of any headlights, just the remains of what had been a blazing red sunset. Axel pulled past the gasoline pumps at the W. Kelly’s station and parked behind the trading post. No Unit 44 police car where Adam usually parked it. He looked around. Three pickups and a blue Chevy sedan. The sedan belonged to the new evening clerk at the trading post. Good-looking girl, the owner’s daughter, but Axel couldn’t come up with her name. Where was Adam? Maybe he had actually caught his gun-wielding criminal. Maybe the fuel pump on old 44 had died. No Adam inside either. Axel nodded to the girl reading behind the cash register. She rewarded him with a shy smile. What was her name? Judy? Juno? Something like that. She was the daughter of Wilson Kelly, the owner of this small gas station franchise. Blond, slim, and severely fuckable. The glass coffee-maker pot was two-thirds full, usually a good sign, and it smelled fresh. He picked up a two dollar-size Styrofoam cup, poured it full, and sipped. Good, he thought. He picked out a package containing two chocolate-frosted Twinkies. They’d go well with the coffee. Back at the cash register, he handed the blond girl a five-dollar bill. “Has Officer Hunter been in? You remember him? Sort of stocky, black guy. Really ugly policeman.” “I thought he was cute,” the girl said, smiling at Axel.

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“Maybe you just like policemen?” Axel said. What the devil was her name? “Not all of them,” she said. “It depends.” “On whether they’ve arrested your boyfriend?” Axel said, joking. She wasn’t married. He remembered that much. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said. “Not right now. And no, Adam hasn’t been in this evening.” She handed Axel his change, and giggled. Axel was thinking maybe he was a little past dealing with girls who giggled. But she had large blue eyes, and long lashes, and perfect skin. Certainly, she knew how to flirt. “Maybe he’s catching a criminal right now,” he said. “He said something on the radio about it.” He noticed she had miscounted his change by a dime, which sort of went with the giggling. “Too much money,” Axel said, handing her the dime. And then he remembered her name. It was Jodie. Jodie Kelly. Jodie shuddered, very prettily. “Oops, my bad. Thanks. Dad would kill me if he knew I was just giving money away…” “Your father very strict about these things?” he asked, making conversation. Jodie shivered. “Don’t even go there,” she said. Axel drank his coffee and looked at his watch. Where was Adam now? The door opened and admitted a middle-aged woman with her hair tied in a blue cloth. She paid for gasoline, complained about the price, and engaged Jodie in a conversation about a sing-dance somebody was planning at a nearby school. Axel had another cup of coffee. Two teenage boys came in, followed by an old man wearing a T-shirt with ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’ printed across the chest. Another woman came, about Jodie’s age, and the sound of thunder came through the door with her. The girls chatted and giggled. Axel looked at his watch again. Adam was taking too damned long. Axel walked out into the night. The breeze smelled of rain. Axel hurried around the corner into the total darkness behind the trading post. In the car, he switched on the radio and tried to raise Adam. Nothing. He started the engine, and spun the rear wheels in an impatient start that was totally out of character for him. So was his sudden sense of anxiety. He switched on his siren and the emergency flashers. He drove for a few minutes in the direction of San Gabriel, watching the faces in the passing cars. The rain started then, a flurry of big, widely spaced drops splashing the windshield, then a downpour. The road was wide and smooth, with a freshly painted centreline to follow. But the rain was more than Axel’s wipers could handle. He slowed, listening to the water pound against the roof. Normally rain provoked jubilation in Axel – a feeling natural and primal; rain very rarely fell in California at all. Now this joy was blocked by worry and a little guilt. Something had delayed Adam. He should have gone looking for him when the radio blacked out. But it was probably nothing much. Car trouble. An ankle sprained chasing his criminal in the dark. Nothing serious. Lightning illuminated the highway ahead of him, showing it glistening with water and increasingly empty. The flash lit the shape of the buildings and palm trees on either side. Then the boom of thunder came. The rain slackened, flurried again, slackened again as the squall line of the storm passed. Off to the right Axel saw a white Jeepster race past the intersection ahead at high speed, then another glow of light in the distance. He stared. It came from an empty parking lot down a side street of derelict warehouses. He let a deep breath whistle through his teeth. Relief. That would probably be Adam. Guilt fell away from him.

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At the intersection, he slowed and stared down the side road. Headlights should be yellow. This light was red. It flickered. Fire. “Shit!” Axel said aloud. He geared the patrol car down into second and went screeching toward the flames.

***

Unit 44 was parked in the centre of the lot, its nose pointed toward the main road, red flames gushing from the back of it, its tyres burning furiously. Axel braked his car to a stop, skidding across the wet tarmac. He had his door open and the fire extinguisher in his hand while the car was still skidding. It was raining hard again, the cold drops splashing against his face. Then he was engulfed in the sickening black smoke of burning rubber, burning oil, burning upholstery. The driver’s side window had been shattered. Axel fired the extinguisher through it, seeing the white foam stream through the smoke, and seeing through the smoke the dark shape of Adam Hunter slumped over the steering wheel. “Adam!” Axel clutched at the door handle, barely conscious of the searing pain. He jerked the door open and found himself engulfed in a gust of flames. He jumped back, whacking at the fire burning his uniform shirt. “Adam,” he shouted again. He sprayed the extinguisher foam into the car again, dropped the extinguisher, reached through the open door, clutched the arm of Officer Hunter and pulled. Adam was wearing his seat belt. Axel fumbled for the catch, released it, pulled with all his strength, aware that as he did that his palm was hurting in a way he had never experienced before. He tumbled backward into the driving rain, he and Adam. He lay for a moment, gasping, lungs full of smoke, conscious that something was wrong with the hand, and of the weight of Adam Hunter partly across him. Then he was aware of heat. His shirt sleeve burning. He put it out, struggled out from under the weight of Adam’s motionless body. Adam lay on his back, arms and legs sprawled. Axel looked at him and looked away. He picked up the extinguisher, sprayed the burning places on the officer’s trousers. He used what was left in the tank to put out the fire. “Running on fumes,” Adam had said. That was lucky. Axel had seen enough car fires to know what a full tank could do. He checked Adam’s pulse – it was there, but faint. Then he listened for the man’s breathing, found a wheezing, irregular pattern. He was alive, but barely. In an instant Axel was on the radio, calling this in to Captain Wyndam, asking for immediate help, before he was fully aware of the pain of his own burns. “I need an ambulance now,” Axel spat. “He might have been shot. I think I see blood on the back of his shirt, and blood on the front, too.” Captain Wyndam happened to be in, doing his perpetual paperwork. While Axel was saying that, Wyndam took over the radio. “Stay with him, Axel. I’ve already got three units and an ambulance en route. Blood still fresh?” Axel looked at his hand and grimaced. “Yes, sir.” A chunk of skin had flapped off the palm of his hand. The door handle, he thought. That had done it. It felt like it had burned all the way to the bone.

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“You saw nobody else in the vicinity?” Axel’s mind was racing. Everything seemed a blur. “Erm… possibly. Just before I turned down here… a Caucasian male driving a white Jeepster away from the scene, at speed.” His throat hurt. So did his lungs. So did his eyes. And his face. He felt with numb fingers. No eyebrows. “Okay, just stay put Axel. We’ll take it from here. Don’t mess up anything around the car. It’s a crime scene. You got that?” Wyndam paused. “Do not.” Axel gritted his teeth. “Copy that.” He really wanted to end this. He wanted to go and find whoever had done this to Adam. He should have been here. He should have come to help him. He turned to look at Adam, and cursed himself silently. “Hang in there, buddy.” He waited for a few helpless minutes, the time passing agonisingly slowly, until he could hear the sound of distant emergency sirens. That would be the others. Then his emotions finally got the better of him. “Screw this,” he muttered, and jumped into his car, gearing the engine, turning about, screeching back down the road in the direction he’d come. He was going to find the son-of-a-bitch who’d done this, and to hell with the consequences.

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1

Axel travelled west for several miles, sirens blaring, his thoughts racing. Eventually he found the white Jeepster he was looking for abandoned by the side of the road. The headlamps had been left on, and the driver-side door was wide open. A quick search of the vehicle revealed, to Axel’s surprise, a trunk packed to the brim with automatic weapons – rifles, AK-47s, MAC-10s, all without serial numbers. An illegal horde. “Jesus Christ,” Axel muttered to himself. This was some serious shit. Not only that, but there were also a number of large duffel bags stuffed in and around the vehicle’s spare tyre well – containing a huge stockpile of crisp bank notes… easily six or seven million dollars worth. Whatever was going on here, Axel was in over his head. He was a patrol officer who spent most of his time busting drunk drivers – this was not the kind of thing he was used to dealing with. Gritting his teeth, he called in the discovery on the radio, expecting to be berated by Captain Wyndam for leaving Adam at the crime scene against his orders. But to Axel’s surprise, Wyndam praised him. “Good job, Axel. Christ, how many weapons did you say?” He rummaged through the heavy metal. “Hard to tell, sir. Several dozen, for sure.” “Okay. I’ve got two more units on the way to secure the vehicle. Keep after the driver. I want this guy caught… don’t let me down Officer, you hear?” Axel didn’t argue with him. He jumped back into his squad car and roared off into the rain-soaked dark. Two miles further west, the high beams of his headlights reflected from the back of a man walking down the asphalt. Axel braked and stared. It was the driver from the Jeepster alright – and he was walking erratically down the centre of the westbound lane. He was bald, wearing dark sunglasses, and bare-chested. He seemed totally oblivious of Axel’s headlights, now just a few yards behind him. Without a backward glance, with no effort to move to the side of the road, he walked steadily onward, swinging something in his right hand, zigzagging a little, but with the steady, unhurried pace of a man who has walked great distances, who will walk great distances more. Axel pulled up beside him, rolled down his window. The object the man was swinging was a squat bottle, held by the neck. “Hey!” Axel shouted. “Freeze!” The man ignored him, plodding steadily down the asphalt. As he moved past the police car and back into the glare of the headlights Axel saw he had something bulky stuck under his belt in the back of his trousers. It looked like the butt of a pistol. Axel unsnapped his own pistol, took it out of its holster, and laid it on the seat next to him. He touched the siren button, producing a sudden howling. The bald man seemed not to hear it. Axel picked up the mike, raised dispatch, gave his location. “I have a male, about five feet eight inches tall, forties, bald, walking down the westbound lane away from the abandoned vehicle. He has what appears to be a pistol stuck under his belt

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and what appears to be a whisky bottle in his right hand and is acting in a peculiar manner.” “Peculiar manner,” the dispatcher said. “I think he’s drunk, or on drugs,” Axel said. “He acts like he doesn’t hear me or see me.” “Subject is drunk,” the dispatcher said. “Maybe,” Axel said. Captain Wyndam’s voice came over then in a burst of static: “Apprehend him now, Axel. Do not hesitate. Use whatever force is necessary. I’m counting on you, Officer.” “Copy.” Which might be easier said than done, Axel thought. He pulled the patrol car past the walker and spun it around so its lights shone directly into the man’s face. He got out with his pistol in his hand. He felt dizzy. Everything was vague. “Hold it right there,” Axel said. The walker stopped. He looked intently at Axel, as if trying to bring him into focus. Then he sighed and sat on the pavement. He screwed the cap off the bottle, and took a long, gurgling drink. He looked at Axel again and said: “Fuck the police... Fuck you. Go home.” “Shut up!” Axel roared. His voice choked. “Let me see those hands!” With his good hand he reached over the man’s shoulder, jerked the pistol out of his belt. He sniffed the muzzle of the barrel and smelled burned powder. He checked the cylinders. All six contained cartridges, but three of the cartridges were empty. They had been fired. This was definitely their shooter. He jammed the pistol under his belt, snatched the bottle out of the walker’s raised hand, and hurled it into the palm trees beside the road. “Dirty criminal scum,” Axel said under his breath. “Get up!” His voice was fierce. He jerked the man to his feet, hurried him to the patrol car, searched him quickly for another weapon, took a pocketknife and some coins from a front pocket and a worn wallet from his hip pocket. According to the man’s driving license, his name was ‘Walter Donovan’. Axel handcuffed him, conscious of the man’s bony wrists, conscious of the numbness in his own right hand, and the pain in his left palm. He helped the man into the backseat, closed the door behind him, and stood for a moment looking through the glass at him, trying to collect his thoughts and emotions. Everything had happened so fast. But what was really going on here? Gun smuggling and millions of dollars in cash? It would seem that Adam had stumbled upon something big here. Axel only wished that they were higher up in the police ranks – it would be great to investigate this whole thing further, it was exciting stuff. But that would be for the more experienced police detectives and sergeants to deal with – not lowly young patrol officers such as themselves. At that moment, Axel noticed the tattoo on Donovan’s arm. He wouldn’t have noticed it in the dark if the drunken man hadn’t been pressing his elbow against the window like he was. The tattoo depicted a swan, curling in on itself in a very distinct way:

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The sight of the tattoo sent a shockwave of recognition through Axel’s gut. A surge of adrenaline thundered through his system as he realised: I’ve seen that tattoo before! He blinked, unable to quite believe his eyes. The last time he’d seen that tattoo, he had been a small child… six years old to be precise. It was the mark of Blue Swan, a secret criminal gang who had been responsible for the death of Axel’s father, and never brought to justice. Axel blew out air and ripped the car door open. In a surge of emotion he threw a fist into Donovan’s face, cracking his nose. “Who are you?” he demanded. “Did you kill my father?” “I… I don’t know you,” the man rambled. “I am ashamed.” Axel snorted, and punched the man again, knocking him out cold. “You have the right to remain unconscious,” he said aloud. “Anything you say ain’t gonna be much.” He slammed the car door, stood for a moment with his head bowed, the rain beating against his shoulders. Painful memories of his father’s death resurfaced in his mind. He wiped the back of his hand across his wet face and licked his lips. The taste was salty. Then he walked into the trees, looking for the bottle. It would be needed as evidence.

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2

72 hours later

Adam Hunter came slouching out of the Burn Doctor’s examining room at Buena Vista Community General Hospital’s Burn and Trauma Center feeling distinctly down. Predictions concerning his recovery had been ambiguous at best. Then he noticed the woman sitting against the wall in the waiting room. Something about her reminded him of Jodie Kelly. She was immersed in a copy of Newsweek, her shiny blonde hair visible above the cover and her very nice legs neatly crossed. He stared. She turned the page of the magazine, giving him a look at more than her forehead. Depression vanished, replaced by delight. It was Jodie Kelly. “Hey,” Adam said. “Jodie. What are you doing here?” “I was waiting for you,” Jodie Kelly said, grinning at him. “I wanted to see how you looked toasted.” “Not much improvement,” Adam said, displaying the bandages on his hands. He used his good arm to hug her. Jodie hugged back, hard against Adam’s damaged chest. “Aaagh!” Jodie recoiled. “Oh. I’m sorry.” “Just a play for sympathy,” Adam said, breathing hard. “I didn’t notice the bandages under your shirt,” Jodie said, repentant. “One on each leg, too,” Adam said, tapping his thigh and grinning at her. “The doctor said that altogether if you average it out, I was somewhere between medium rare and medium.” “Axel told me what happened,” she said. “He came by the gas station yesterday to let me know. I couldn’t believe it when I heard – I never thought in a million years something like this could ever happen to you. You’re such a nice guy…” “Yeah, well I’m not invulnerable,” Adam said. “I was going to hunt you up when I got all these bandages off.” He was looking down at her, conscious that he was smiling like an ape, conscious that the receptionist was watching all this, conscious that Jodie Kelly had come to see him. “But how did you find me here?” “I called your office. They told me you were on sick leave. And the dispatcher asked around for me and found out you’d come to the burn centre here for a checkup.” She touched the bandage with a tentative finger. “Is it better? Are you going to be all right?” “Mostly just scars now. Except for the gunshot wound, it still hurts like a bitch. They think it will be all right, too. Probably. At least, it hasn’t caused me any permanent damage. But let’s get out of here. You have time for a coffee?” Jodie Kelly had time. They walked from the hospital complex, across the street to a nearby restaurant, where Adam ordered two regular espressos to go. Then Jodie suggested they take a walk through a nearby park. It was a mild yet sunny California morning. Adam had no problem with that.

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“Remember that day we met?” Jodie said. “On the 15. You pulled me over because I was driving erratically… And I was being righteously indignant about it. Remember that?” She was laughing. “I remember how you were stumble down drunk,” Adam said, grinning. “And trying desperately to convince me otherwise.” She chuckled. “Didn’t work, did it?” “Nope.” Adam’s body hurt, the burns on his chest, but he was enjoying this. He was happy. “Listen,” he told her. “I wanted to ask you something…” “Sure.” “That is, if you’re not doing anything… I wondered if you’d like to have dinner with me this evening?” There. He said it. “Oh,” Jodie said. She stopped laughing. She stopped walking. Adam looked back at her, grinning. “I know why you really came here to see me.” Jodie digested this. She walked toward him, smiling, shaking her head. “Was I that obvious?” “Not really,” Adam said. “But we’ve been building up to this for weeks, haven’t we?” “Yeah.” She giggled. “I guess we have.” And then she laughed up at him and squeezed his arm. “Yes. Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you this evening.” She took his hand, and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. For a moment, Adam Hunter didn’t seem to notice the pain. They walked under the sycamores that shaded the great brick expanse of a shopping mall. A squadron of teenage skateboarders thundered past. Adam sipped his coffee, and decided that it tasted fresh but weak. His taste for coffee had been brutalised by years of drinking the super-strength version he used to make for himself at his mom’s house in Detroit. “Did you know that Axel won’t tell me anything about what happened to the guy who shot you?” Jodie asked. “He’ll talk about other things, about you, but not about the crime itself. He just shuts up.” “What’s there to say?” “Well, everything. Why the guy did it, for one thing. And why he was carrying a shitload of money and guns in the trunk of his car. What was he doing, what was he involved in, and will he be going to jail for this? Everything.” “He shot me because he was drunk,” Adam said. “Axel arrested him, and he’s still in custody, as far as I’m told. The problem they’re having is that the guy won’t talk. The evidence seems to suggest he’s involved in some kind of organised crime. But he’s refusing to give up any information.” “What’s Axel so upset about?” “When I spoke to him this morning, he told me that he was convinced this guy was working for Blue Swan – a group of criminals responsible for the death of his father more than ten years back.” “Oh?” “Yeah. Blue Swan were never caught, or brought to justice. Instead, they seemed to just disappear from the radar completely. The District Attorney couldn’t even take the case to trial. Axel’s family was devastated. It’s a subject he doesn’t like to talk about too much. One of those wounds that will never heal, you know?” “I see. But doesn’t Axel have a chance to find these people now?” Adam frowned. “In his dreams. Unfortunately, we’re just the junior officers who stumbled upon this whole thing. It’ll be up to Detective Bellamy and his

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investigation team to figure out what’s really going on here. And that’s what’s pissing Axel off – the fact that this isn’t his case.” Jodie sipped. “If I were Axel, I’d want to take matters into my own hands…” “You’re closer to the truth than you realise,” Adam said. “Yes?” “Actually, Axel is planning on taking matters into his own hands. He wants me to help him, too.” “Wow. That guy is a bona fide vigilante-in-the-making. What does he expect you to do?” Adam lowered his voice. “Let’s just say he wants me to join him in a search without a warrant. Detective Bellamy’s investigation team ransacked this guy – Donovan’s – house yesterday. Apparently, they discovered a dead body there, an unidentified male, but no other information has been released. Captain Wyndam is keeping everything need-to-know.” Jodie nodded. “So you’re going back to this guy’s house to… investigate… for yourselves? Call me paranoid Adam, but only the most genial judge in the country will tolerate that. It could be seen as breaking and entering…” He held up his right palm, interrupting her. “We’re just going to check around, see if we can find anything Bellamy’s team may have missed. We don’t have any legal or juridical right to be there, but I’m with Axel on this one. It’s important to him.” Jodie finished her coffee, put down the cup, looked at him for a while. “I’m coming with you,” she said.

***

The yellow tape used to isolate the scene of a crime dangled loosely across Walter Donovan’s front gate. Axel Stone detached it, ushered Adam and Jodie through, and reconnected it behind them. “You’re sure this is all right?” Jodie whispered. “The people from Bellamy’s team are all finished in here,” Axel said. “But keeping your hands in your pockets, not moving anything – that’s a good idea.” Actually, it wasn’t exactly all right. It would be better if Jodie Kelly waited in the car. Better still if they had made this check on the house before Adam had picked her up for their dinner date. But she had been so insistent on the verge of begging, a feeling of urgency that Axel couldn’t really understand, and besides, Adam was completely besotted with her. Axel had agreed to let her come – if only to keep her quiet about it. He unlocked the front door, felt a little sigh of cold air that empty houses release when he opened it. It was a familiar sensation to Axel – one he felt each evening when he unlocked his own apartment on the edge of the city. The front room was silent, and the sills and surfaces bore the faint grey stains of fingerprint powder. Axel noticed Jodie looking at the chalk lines that marked where the unidentified body had been. “Any idea who was killed here?” she asked absently. Axel shook his head. “Not yet. At least not until the coroner files his autopsy report.”

18

Her expression was strained, sad, mournful maybe. She looked tearful. Clearly she hadn’t had much exposure to death in her life, and this memento mori was a shock to her system. Undecipherable graffiti covered the walls in the hallway towards the kitchen area up ahead, looking dark and menacing under the artificial yellow glare of the ceiling bulb. There was a stench in the air – the acid smell of print-developing fluids. “Check this out,” Adam said, stepping into the kitchen. It was a cramped, airless space, musty and dark, having been converted into some kind of photographic developing lab. Prints and negatives were strewn everywhere, on the walls, hanging from wire. “It’s a darkroom,” Jodie observed. “Be careful,” Axel said, “Most of these photographs have traces of grey powder. They’ve been dusted for prints. We don’t want to contaminate the evidence. But don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of thin white gloves. Axel spread some of the photos on the cabinet top in two neat rows, handling everything carefully, by the edges, and examined them methodically. They were all the standard eight by ten inches on black-and-white glossy paper. All seemed to be exposures of parts of the same dark basaltic outcrop. They seemed to have been shot from a considerable distance through a telescopic lens. Or perhaps they had been magnified in the enlarger. The same negative had been used to make several of the prints, each blown up to a different magnification. But the angle in all was almost exactly the same – as if all the negatives had been exposed from the same location, but had been made by using lenses of different focal lengths and by shifting the camera on the tripod. All included the same segment of the outcrop. Some more of it, some less, depending on the lens. But in all, the same features were near the centre of the print. Adam frowned. “I don’t get it. Why would this guy want to photograph a piece of rock? And make all these prints?” Axel shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I have a feeling they certainly weren’t taken for the beauty of the landscape. There’s something else here. Does it look familiar to you?” Adam studied the prints. “They’re all the same place, obviously. But there’s not enough of it to put into any kind of recognisable context. It could be a million places in the desert around here…” “But it must be near here someplace, I think,” Axel said. “We can presume that this ‘Donovan’ character shot them.” They spent almost thirty minutes sorting negative files without finding anything useful. Axel pulled the wastebasket from under the sink, sorted through it, and extracted a crumpled sheet of photographic paper. It was part of the same scene, blown up larger on an eleven-by-fourteen inch sheet. The print was much darker. Overexposed, Axel guessed, and thrown away. He spread it on the cabinet. There… “Is that some kind of door?” Jodie asked, examining the image. “Some kind of secret entrance, I’d guess,” Axel said. “Maybe this is where Blue Swan have been hiding out all these years.” Adam frowned. “I don’t know, Ax. It could also be a trick of the light. It’s kind of hard to make out. Maybe we’re just wasting our time here…” Unbeknownst to the three of them, from the shadows, they were being watched.

19

3

Axel Stone’s apartment building was a two-level, brick-built tenement on Van Nuys Boulevard in Panorama City. Affectionately named ‘Sunset Terrace Apartments’, it actually resembled a military barracks more than anything else, due to its distinct lack of any colourful décor inside. The management was bad and the rent was over-priced, but the girls at the front desk were always dressed professionally and actually took the time to care about Axel’s day. One of the night shift girls in particular had a crush on Axel. Her name was Trisha, a pretty brunette with perfect teeth, green eyes. She was in her late teens. They usually flirted a little every time Axel came home from work, given their age difference was minimal. She loved men in uniform, apparently, but Axel wasn’t really into her. It was harmless fun. Tonight had been different, however. Axel had actually encouraged her seriously… then one thing had led to another, she’d come up to his apartment and they’d jumped in bed. Axel certainly didn’t make a habit of this sort of thing, he usually had more respect for women than that. Maybe he was feeling dejected because Adam and Jodie had gone out on a date… or maybe it was something to do with this whole ‘Blue Swan’ thing. Whatever the case, it had been a long time since any woman had entered his one-bedroom apartment, even longer since he’d been given such a stunning blow job. Right now, Axel and Trisha were fast asleep in the king-size bed, snoozing contentedly. Axel was snoring. Axel lived alone here, and it showed. It was a typical bachelor pad, fairly untidy – one bedroom, a large living area furnished with little more than a black leather sofa and a punch bag, a small kitchen filled with dirty dishes, an even smaller office. It was quite apparent that Axel’s hobby was video games too – judging by the considerable setup dominating one corner of the place. But hey, he was young and single – he had an excuse for this kind of lifestyle. Upon his graduation from the LAPD Police Academy two years earlier at the age of just eighteen, his mom had been killed in a tragic car accident on a local freeway, forcing him and his younger sister Tina to find their own accommodation, to fly the nest early, as it were. Neither of them could afford to take on the mortgage repayments on their mom’s fourbedroom, three-bathroom house in Santa Monica, and the majority of their inheritance money had to be spent on paying off family debts. Tina had used some of her personal savings to put down a deposit on a place in downtown LA, while Axel had settled here, preferring a location more on the outskirts of town. The digital alarm clock beside the bed turned silently to 2:00am. The apartment was dark, and utterly quiet now apart from the gentle tap, tapping sound of the bedroom window shade banging against the wall in the cold breeze coming through the open pane. Axel turned over restlessly, stirring slightly. Something was bothering him. Half asleep, he got up to close the window, turning to look at Trisha as he did so. What had he been thinking last night? She was still in college. Her father was a drunk. Too much baggage for him to deal with right now.

20

He sighed, fumbling with the window pane. Then the shade slipped from his fingers, suddenly snapping up and clattering loudly in the peaceful dark. Moonlight streamed in, filling the room. And that’s when Axel saw the most frightening thing he’d ever seen in his life – everybody’s most primitive nightmare: five hooded figures standing by the bed! Even a cop wasn’t ready for this… “Jesus Christ!” Axel howled, which was all he got to say before he was grabbed and violently shoved face-down on the bed. Trisha awoke then, and started to scream, before a gloved hand smashed over her mouth. Axel struggled, his face being pressed into a pillow, unable to breathe… A pair of scissors was held up. Trisha’s eyes widened. What were these creeps going to do? Then a roll of silver duct tape was produced, and a three foot length of tape was ripped from the roll and cut with the scissors. Another section was ripped off and cut. Two more quickly after that – rip, rip. Never had the sound conveyed such a sinister or terrifying quality. The hooded figures worked with incredible speed and skill, taping Trisha’s eyes and mouth shut. Then her wrists were wrapped and secured to the footboard. Axel was next – arms pulled behind his back, wrists wrapped with tape, ankles wrapped with tape. More tape was needed. Rip. Rip. Rip. Axel flipped over, face up, gasping for air. His eyes and his mouth were both taped shut. He was completely helpless, and at the mercy of these hooded intruders. “Wondering what we’re gonna do, Stone?” one of the hooded figures barked. “Man, I’d be going fucking nuts right now if I were you. Completely bananas. Wanna know what we’re gonna do?” Axel felt a punch strike him heavily in the gut. “Let your imagination run wild!” Trisha sobbed, her body convulsing. Axel struggled, panting, groaning, going crazy. His heart thundered in his chest. What could he do? “This has been a warning, Officer Stone,” said the voice after a while. “After this, things get bloody. Back off. Don’t be a fool. Be smart. Stay alive.” With that, the hooded figures departed. It took Axel a moment to realise they were even gone.

***

LAPD Operations – Valley Bureau Mission Division Community Police Station March 21st 09:39am

Axel and Adam were in Captain Wyndam’s office, sitting in plastic chairs across the desk from the man himself. Detectives Bellamy and Kavanagh, the investigating officers on the Blue Swan case, were also present. Bellamy was in constant motion, getting up, sitting down; looking out the window. All the time

21

smoking like a fiend – despite the sign displayed prominently on Wyndam’s desk that said, “THANKYOU FOR NOT SMOKING”. A cloud of smoke hung in the air like their own personal smog layer. “I didn’t see anybody’s face,” Axel was saying. “They all had on hoods. The one guy who spoke sounded like a psycho, that’s for sure.” “The first thing you better do is change the locks on your apartment doors and windows,” Wyndam said, leaning forward on his desk. He was somewhere in his mid forties, stocky, wearing a navy blue suit. His black hair was neatly brushed into a side parting. “Or better yet, move out.” Axel nodded. “I’m getting the locks changed this afternoon. And Trish is staying with her sister in Bellflower while she recovers from this.” “Good.” Detective Kavanagh cleared his throat. “The trouble with organised criminals like this is that they don’t play by the rules.” Axel gritted his teeth. “We can play as dirty as they can.” “Well, you can, Axel,” Kavanagh scoffed. “You’ll have to give the rest of us some pointers.” He glanced at Detective Bellamy and they both laughed heartily at the joke. Axel and Adam remained silent. This was a very serious situation for them. “Be happy to,” Axel muttered, clenching a fist. There was an icy tone to his voice that chilled the air. Captain Wyndam got to his feet. “Alright, that’s enough, guys. Get back to work.” Axel and Adam glared at each other. The others began to file out of the room. Axel and Adam were about to exit too, when Wyndam called them back. “Wait a minute, you two…” They stopped in the doorway. “If you’re interested in working together, I got something special for you boys. Guy by the name of…” He checked the file in front of him. “Lopez. Leo ‘Busta’ Lopez. Has been placed in protective custody. You two are gonna babysit this guy until the Federal Marshals show up from Washington.” Axel didn’t like this one bit. Clearly, Wyndam was trying to distance them both from the ongoing Blue Swan investigation. “For how long?” he asked. “Soon as all the red tape is processed,” Wyndam told him. “Couple, three days. Look, it’s either this, or you can both go back to your regular patrol duties on opposite sides of town… and I know how badly you want a promotion, Axel. Impress on this, and I’ll consider making you partners.” Axel perked up a bit. “Really?” “Yeah. Look, this guy’s gonna testify before a Commission of Inquiry. I’ve guaranteed his safety. This is not a shit assignment.” Adam took a deep breath. “What are we supposed to do with him?” “How the hell should I know?” Wyndam said. “Take him to Disneyland!” He watched their faces for a moment, reading their emotions. “If I ran this department by the book, you guys would be relieved of duty for seven days for what happened at Walter Donovan’s house. Plus… three hours each of consultation with the Department Shrink. That house is a crime scene – Bellamy’s crime scene. But I like you two. I like your ambition, so consider yourselves lucky.” “Thank you sir,” Adam said. Wyndam ripped a piece of paper from a pad and handed it to Axel. “This is where the guy is staying.” Axel glanced at the address.

22

“Nice hotel,” Wyndam continued. “All expenses are being picked up by the Justice Department, so enjoy yourselves.” They headed for the door. “Oh, and Axel,” Wyndam said, looking up from his desk. “Don’t interfere with Bellamy’s case again. Stick to your own assignment, you hear?” Axel nodded. “What choice do I have, sir?”

23

4

Axel’s mind whirled. This situation was getting harder and harder to deal with. Here, at last, was his opportunity to find his father’s killers, and it was slipping through his fingers like a melting ice cube because he hadn’t been allowed to work on the investigation. It was frustrating, because Blue Swan was the entire reason he’d gotten into the police force in the first place. After his father’s death, Axel had made a solemn vow to himself that he would bring those criminals responsible to justice, no matter how long it took. It was something that gave him his drive in this life, his motivation, something that steered him forward and defined his character… had done so for the last decade. Twelve years. It had been twelve years, in fact, since he had made that vow to himself. A long time – more than half his life at this point. More than half his life he had spent fantasising about catching those elusive gangsters with the identical tattoos on their arms, who had demanded money from his father when he couldn’t afford to pay, who had set fire to the family dōjō – Axel blinked, trying not to think about what happened back then. The memory of his father’s death was so powerful… was ingrained into his subconscious to such a defining extent that it was still painful and upsetting after all this time. The wound had never healed, not even in the slightest. His sister, Tina Stone, had been the strongest of the two children in the aftermath of the fire, had been the one who had pulled Axel through the worst bouts of his depression… but she hadn’t been there in the dōjō’s main hall that day – she’d been waiting outside. She hadn’t been forced to see their father’s dying actions, his final sacrifice, his hand outstretched for help… No. Just don’t think about it. He took a deep breath, and looked out of the car window, at the familiar scenery, at the cars whizzing past in the opposite direction, trying to clear his mind of the image. He was sitting in the passenger seat of an unmarked police sedan, on its way to the address given to them by Captain Wyndam. He turned. Adam was behind the wheel, hot dog in one hand, large coke between his thighs, thoughtfully chewing a large mouthful. He had ketchup on his upper lip. Adam felt Axel’s gaze, but didn’t look over. “Screw you,” he said playfully. “Don’t you even wonder what it would be like to eat a hot dog with two hands?” Axel asked. “Nope.” Axel shook his head and smiled. They drove on in silence. This ‘babysitting’ assignment seemed rather pointless to Axel, a diversionary tactic to keep him from interfering with Bellamy’s investigation, but maybe, just maybe, if he and Adam performed well enough here, Wyndam would promote them to detective partners and assign them to a case. He’d been waiting for a promotion for some time now. Would it give them a chance to join the Blue Swan case so Axel could find that elusive retribution he’d been seeking for so long? There was hope.

24

The re-emergence of Blue Swan had been unexpected for sure, and something that Axel felt he had a personal right to investigate further, due to his past experience. Deep down, he hated Detective Bellamy for getting the case, felt frustrated by the fact that he still knew nothing about what was going on, what facts had been uncovered so far. What was the man, Walter Donovan, really doing with all those guns and cash in the trunk of his car? Where was he going? Why was there a dead body in the guy’s house, and why were there a bunch of strange photographs there? What was the connection to Blue Swan itself? All these questions, and not a chance of any answers, at least not any time soon. The details of the case were privy only to those working on the investigation – Bellamy, Kavanagh, Mason… old, experienced detectives who had proved themselves to the Captain many times over the years. As a junior patrol officer, Axel didn’t really have a chance of competing with those guys at all, no matter how much he thought he could. He busted kids for smoking weed on street corners, for god’s sake. He sighed, remembering the stark warning he’d received from the hooded figures in his apartment: Back off. Rather than scare him away, the incident had served only to bolster his determination in tracking down these bastards. How dare they break into his apartment like that? Who did they think they were, anyway? But maybe they were right. He had been way out of line by interfering with Bellamy’s crime scene like that. But he felt so strongly about this… “You okay?” Adam asked, looking over. They were stopped at a red light. “Yeah. I’m just pissed at this whole situation.” Adam nodded. “It could be worse, Axel. A lot worse. Those guys could’ve killed you in your apartment. You could be dead right now.” Sometimes Axel wished it were so, but he would never admit it to anyone. He was a tough guy, a survivor, and he was going to get through this, no matter what got thrown at him. “Yeah. You’re right. Still, I’m sure you can understand where I’m coming from.” They drove on in silence for a while, then stopped at another red light. The traffic was backed up for miles ahead. “Looks like we’ve hit rush-hour traffic,” Adam sighed. Axel frowned, staring through the windshield. “But it’s only eleven-thirty. There must have been some kind of accident further ahead, I guess.” He turned to Adam, changing the subject. “So, how was your dinner date with Jodie last night? Did you guys hit it off or what?” Adam grinned, and took a long, hard gulp of his coke. “Hell yeah, it went great. About as great as a guy could hope, if you know what I mean.” He winked conspiratorially. Axel’s eyebrows went up. “You slept with her? On your first date?” Adam shrugged. “I know what you’re thinking. Relationships based on sex never last.” “Well, it’s true.” “This is different,” Adam insisted. “Okay, I’ll admit it – for the most part, our interest in each other is entirely physical. But there’s something else there. We have a connection. I can’t explain it. We’re going to work out, I just know it.” “No uncomfortable silences over dinner then?” Adam shook his head. “Nope. I get on with this girl really well, Ax. And yeah, the sex was fantastic.”

25

“I’m happy for you, Adam.” Axel took a deep breath. “Really, I am.” His thoughts shifted to his own love life – or lack thereof, and he felt a familiar twang of depression hit him in the gut. He wanted a girlfriend more than anything in the world – wanted to find somebody he could settle down with and start a family of kids – but he hadn’t found the right person yet, if that person even existed. Sure, he’d dated more than enough girls in his time; the badge and the uniform were regular chick magnets wherever he went… but it had never amounted to anything too serious, and nothing that had lasted more than a few months at most. Trisha, last night, was just the latest in a string of brief encounters with girls he’d had over the past couple of years, and the only one who had actually seen inside his apartment. He hadn’t even lost his virginity yet, if truth be told. He was saving himself for the right person, or so he liked to think. Maybe that was an admirable thing to do… or maybe it just made him a loser. He hadn’t decided which yet; the jury was still out on that one. At the next intersection, Adam turned off the main road and they headed down an open side road, passing an attractive line of palm trees on either side. Within a few minutes, they had reached their destination: the Beverly Hilton Hotel. “This is it,” Adam said, pulling up out front. “Time to go to work.”

*** Axel and Adam strode across the crowded pool deck outside the hotel’s guest entrance. As usual, everyone was sunning themselves and virtually nobody was in the water. Adam grinned, and enjoyed the flirtatious glances of several gorgeous women. He even paused to help one stunning blonde girl apply suntan oil to her back. “Thanks,” the girl said, looking him up and down. “To serve and protect,” Adam said gallantly. “Coming back?” she asked. “Count on it.” Axel smiled tolerantly at his friend’s behaviour, and they continued on toward the hotel entrance. “You should cut that sort of stuff out, Adam,” Axel said, looking concerned. Adam let out a barrel laugh. “You need to come out of your shell a little more, Ax.” They went through the hotel’s main doors, and strolled across a posh-looking reception area toward the elevators atrium. The place was a bustle of frenzied activity. Smiling politely at a group of Japanese tourists speaking frantically in their own language and pouring from the nearest open elevator, Axel decided that this was probably the most expensive hotel he’d ever been in. They took the elevator to level eight. Down a clean-carpeted corridor, and they finally arrived at the door they were looking for. “This is it,” Adam said. “Room 812.” Axel knocked. They heard a voice from within. “Who’s there?” “Police,” Axel said. “How do I know you’re really the police?” “After I shoot you through the door, you can examine the bullet. Now open up!”

26

The door opened. Behind it was a short, stocky black man with a squareshaped head, and a half-smoked unlit cigar stuck between his teeth. He squinted up at Axel and Adam, then allowed them to enter. Inside was a large suite – two bedrooms and a living room. “I get it,” the man chuckled. “Good cop, bad cop.” “Shut up,” Adam said, scanning the layout of the place. “Oh. Bad cop, bad cop.” The man was an affable little guy in his midthirties with a ready smile, slicked back hair, and an expensive yet conservative wardrobe. “You Leo Lopez?” Axel asked. He nodded. “Leo Lopez. That’s my name. But everybody calls me ‘Busta’. Please, call me ‘Busta’.” Axel and Adam exchanged an amused glance, but didn’t say anything. “I’m Officer Axel Stone. This is Officer Adam Hunter.” “Great,” Busta smiled. “Nice to meet you. What should I call you guys?” “Axel and Adam will be fine.” “We’re gonna be your shadow for a few days, Busta,” Adam said. “Wow. Okay. Fine with me. Two big, strong shadows…” Axel pointed toward the master bedroom. “This bedroom over here. That’s gonna be ours.” Busta frowned. “My stuff’s already in – “ Axel shot him a withering glance. “It’s yours,” Busta conceded. “My stuff’s gone. I’m in the small bedroom.” “Let’s get something straight right away, okay?” That was Adam. “Sure,” Busta said. “What?” “We don’t like you.” “You don’t? Why not?” “Because we have to sit in this hotel and watch you all day and all night,” Axel told him. “Does that sound like fun to you, Busta?” Busta frowned. “Not much. No.” There was another knock at the door. Axel reacted, reaching for his sidearm. “Can I get that?” Busta asked. “No,” Adam told him bluntly. Busta licked his lips. “It’s just room service. I’m starving.” Axel headed for the door. “By the way, are you guys hungry?” Busta asked. “I could call down for more. It’s free…” “No, it’s not, Busta,” Adam said. “It’s paid for with taxpayer dollars.” “Same thing.” Axel looked through the peephole to be certain it was room service, then opened the door. The waiter rolled in a food service cart and parked it in front of the window. For some reason, the waiter seemed strained, nervous even. Axel lifted the silver dome. There was an order of hamburger and fries on the plate beneath. “Busta, come get your hamburger.” “Hey, I didn’t order a hamburger,” Busta said, looking confused. “I ordered eggs.” Without warning, the waiter reached down into the cart’s lower compartment and pulled out a pistol. “Gun!” Axel yelled. He and Busta both jumped at the waiter, and Axel managed to grab the man’s hand, the pistol discharging into the ceiling.

27

“Busta, get back!” “Holy shit,” Adam cursed, and drew his own weapon. He frowned, unable to get a clear shot because Axel and Busta were struggling with the waiter, who was stronger than he looked. Busta was only getting in the way, throwing everybody off balance. Then, in one swift, calamitous moment, Axel, Busta, the waiter, and the serving cart all crashed through the eighth story window – pulling the drapes with them. Adam watched them go helplessly, an incredulous expression on his face.

28

5

Axel, Busta and the would-be assassin plummeted through the air, closely followed by the serving cart and window curtain, which fluttered behind them like an unopened parachute. Falling, for what seemed like an age, but in reality was only seconds at most. Splash! They landed in the deep end of the large swimming pool outside, the force of the impact blowing them all down several feet beneath the surface, knocking the wind out of them. Axel struggled for breath, disorientated, caught in the window curtain, lost in the maelstrom of bubbles as he struggled in an underwater ballet with Busta and the waiter. Everything was happening so fast… he and Adam had only arrived at this hotel less than fifteen minutes before and already he was fighting for his life. Still, he couldn’t complain about things being dull. Back in the hotel room, Adam Hunter stared through the broken window, peering down at the swimming pool below, and cursed himself for not acting quickly enough. He holstered his weapon and raced for the door, deciding against jumping down after the others, hoping he wouldn’t be too late taking the stairs. Meanwhile, the waiter had managed to break free of the others and exploded from the surface of the swimming pool, starting to climb out. Axel, however, refused to let the man escape and reached up to grab his belt, trying desperately to pull him back in. He’d have more luck if Busta wasn’t clinging to his neck like a frightened koala bear. “Let go!” Axel roared. All three of them fell back into the water. Sunbathers looked on with horrified expressions; frozen in place, incapable of lending assistance. Axel popped up again. He had a grip on the waiter, who now had the window curtain wrapped around his head. Axel punched him in the face several times until a blood stain appeared on the curtain. He felt the waiter go limp in his arms, then unwrapped the curtain, only to find he’d been beating up Busta. Busta’s nose was bleeding, and he wore a dazed expression. “Shit,” Axel said. Turning, he saw the waiter escaping on the opposite side of the pool. He dropped Busta, intent on pursuing the man, but Busta wasn’t capable of swimming right now and immediately began to sink. Axel cursed, then decided against leaving the man to drown and dived under the rolling water to save him. In the same moment, Adam came running out of the hotel’s guest entrance, his gun drawn. Some innocent bystanders could see this and scattered, screaming bloody murder. Others were just getting in his way. “Freeze!” he shouted, aiming the gun at the waiter. “Police! Hold it right there!” The waiter saw Adam coming, and ran like hell in the opposite direction. Adam took careful aim. “Everybody down!” Some people got down – but others didn’t. Instead they bumped into each other like confused cattle, obstructing Adam’s line of fire, forcing him to lower the weapon.

29

“Dammit,” he muttered. Unable to catch up with the waiter, who was now running at full pelt, Adam could do nothing but watch helplessly as the man escaped through the parking lot and disappeared from sight altogether. Axel swam to the edge of the pool, dragging Busta. Adam gave them a hand out. Busta looked bewildered; he’d swallowed a lot of water and his nose was bleeding all over the place. “You guys okay?” Adam asked. Axel nodded. “I’m fine. Can’t say the same for Busta here though. Sorry about your nose, guy.” Busta frowned. “I’ll live. But jeez, if this is you guys’ idea of protection, then I’m in a lot of trouble!”

***

The Beverly Hilton Hotel was no longer safe. They needed to find an alternative safehouse, and Adam figured his own home was as good as any. He drove the umarked police sedan at just over the speed limit, watching the others sitting in the back through the rear view mirror as they towel dried their soaking wet clothes. Busta had cotton wool stuffed up his bloody nose. His luggage was in the trunk. “Somebody is trying to kill you, Busta,” Adam said. “What the hell’d you do?” Axel asked, sounding rather exasperated. “Witness a murder or something?” Busta licked his lips. “Oh, heavens no. Nothing like that.” “Then what?” Adam demanded. “For the last five years I’ve been laundering money for the biggest narcotics and guns trafficking ring on the West Coast – Blue Swan.” Axel almost swallowed his tongue in surprise.

***

Deep in the Mojave Desert

Lucius Hawk stood by the window, looking out. He lit a thin cigar, inhaling the smoke sharply, savouring the rancid taste. Haku-Oh was sitting at the desk, with the telephone to his ear. “Send him in,” Haku-Oh said, then hung up without saying another word. He turned to Hawk with a stony expression. “He is here.” Hawk nodded and turned to face the doorway, just as Galsia stormed in, pulling off a white waiter’s jacket over his head. The scrawny redhead was sweating, clearly overdressed for the desert heat in a thick black t-shirt and bulky jeans. For as expensive and state-of-the-art as this secret facility was, it would require far too much energy to properly air condition without attracting… unwanted… attention. Dressing lightly was essential. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hawk,” Galsia puffed. “He got away.”

30

Hawk took a long, deep breath, and took two steps toward him. He shook his head disapprovingly. “You have failed me, Galsia,” he said. “Now the police are well and truly involved.” Galsia swallowed dryly, licking his lips. “I… It all happened so fast. I wasn’t expecting those cops to be there, sir. I was lucky to get out alive…” Hawk pulled a .45 from his suit and pointed it straight at the man’s face. “You needn’t have bothered, idiot.” He pulled the trigger. Galsia’s head was blown clean in half. He slumped. “Get this mess cleaned up,” Hawk said, turning to Haku-Oh. The other man nodded and picked up the phone again. Hawk smirked. Things were going to get interesting, and soon.

***

Residence of Officer Adam Hunter La Habra Heights 1:22pm

Axel, Adam and Busta sat at the kitchen table in Adam’s house. Axel was wearing one of Adam’s bath robes while his police uniform cycled through the dryer. “It took me ten years to make my way up from teller to assistant manager,” Busta was saying. “But I was bored – know what I mean? Where was all the adventure and excitement they promised us at Business School? So I start preparing tax returns on the side, you know, to pick up the slack. And that’s all going fine except… still way too tame.” The buzzer on the clothes dryer sounded. Busta got up and emptied it, then handed Axel his clothes. “Thanks,” Axel said. He took off the bath robe and began to get dressed. “Anyway, I’m doing some tax returns now for some pretty strange people,” Busta continued. “They’re giving out signals, I’m giving out signals…” “What kind of signals?” Adam asked, frowning. “Action, action, action!” Busta grinned. “Right…” Adam said, somewhat confused. He watched while Axel buttoned up the front of his shirt. “How’s that shirt feel?” Busta asked. “Nice? I used one of those fabric softening strips. They really work, don’t they?” Axel smiled. “It’s great, Busta.” “And I’ll tell you something else. Even if the label says Dry Clean Only, you can hand wash it in cold water and save yourself a fortune.” He slapped himself on the forehead. “Wow, it just hit me! What a weird thing. I’m good at laundry, and I also launder money.” “How’d you do it?” Axel asked. Busta licked his lips. “Okay. They bring the cash into the bank and deposit it into the account of a dummy finance company licensed out of the Bahamas. Sometimes this takes all day, because we can’t do it all in one deposit.” “Why not?” Adam asked.

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“The Bank Secrecy Act,” Busta told him. “All cash deposits or withdrawals of ten thousand dollars or more generate a CTR… ‘Currency Transaction Record’… which goes to the IRS.” Adam nodded. “That’s good.” Busta shook his head. “No. That’s bad. Made my job a lot harder. Anyway, after all the deposits have been made, I turn around and issue them a cashier’s check for the amount of the total deposits minus a commission. Cashier’s checks are wonderful instruments. As good as cash, but they don’t generate a report to the IRS.” “So now the money is washed, right?” “Yeah, but there’s more. The cashier’s check is treated as a loan. The ‘lender’ is the dummy finance company. There’s loan documents to support it. They can even make a tax deduction on the interest payments they’re not making.” Axel took a deep breath. “Busta, you’re a crook.” Busta grinned. “It gets even better. You ready for this? I’ve been scamming these guys for months now, Blue Swan. I’ve been holding back on them.” “What!?” “Yeah. It was easy. All those cash transactions. Millions of dollars changing hands. Who’s gonna miss ten thousand here, twenty thousand there?” “The bad guys.” “Good answer. And that’s why I’m in such deep shit right now. I’ve been living out of a suitcase for weeks. Moving from hotel to hotel.” “How much did you get away with, Busta?” Adam asked. “None of your business,” Busta said bluntly. “Besides, I took it from drug dealers, illegal weapons traffickers. Is that really a crime?” Adam glanced at Axel and raised his eyebrows. “I can’t believe this guy…” Axel nodded and looked Busta directly in the eyes. “Who were the people you were working for? What do you know about Blue Swan?” “I can’t tell you everything,” Busta said. “I gotta save some of this stuff for the Commission of Inquiry. I’m supposed to be the ‘star witness’.” Axel frowned. “I saved your life today, Busta. Doesn’t that count for anything?” Adam rolled his eyes at Axel’s transparent tactics. “Well,” Busta said, “I really shouldn’t be telling you this…” Axel was hanging on every word. “Yeah, yeah…” “Blue Swan’s leader is a man named ‘Lucius Hawk’. I don’t know anything about him other than his name. I only ever dealt with one guy, this Chinese dude named ‘Haku-Oh’. Never used last names, if he even had one.” Axel gave Adam a look that said, We’ve struck oil here, my friend. He turned to Busta and said, “So this… Haku-Oh… he’d bring the cash to you?” Busta nodded. “Always. Right to the bank. That’s the only place I ever saw him. Oh, except once. At a party in Bel Air.” “Where in Bel Air?” “Somebody’s house. In the canyon.” “Which canyon?” Adam asked. “Above sunset.” Axel sighed. “All the canyons are above sunset, Busta. Give us the name.” Busta thought about it for a bit. “Nah. Can’t come up with it…” Axel looked disappointed. “But I could take you there,” Busta continued. Axel’s face brightened. He slid on his shoulder holster and nodded.

32

“Hold on, Ax,” Adam said, stretching his palms outward defiantly. “We’re supposed to just sit on this guy. Keep him out of harm’s way. And we’re not supposed to interfere with Bellamy’s investigation.” “Come on, Adam,” Axel said. “This is our chance to really earn that promotion. Don’t be a killjoy. These people killed my father. Aren’t you just the least bit curious?” Adam took deep breath. He got up from the table with a very dubious expression on his face.

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6

2:47pm

The narrow canyon road was so lush and overgrown with bushes and trees that it was hard to believe they were only ten minutes away from Beverly Hills. A large tow truck blocked most of the road, while the operator connected the towing bar to the undercarriage of a stalled Honda. Adam’s police sedan approached slowly. Inside, Busta leaned forward from the back seat, pointing out the window. “This is it,” he said. “Right here. This is the place.” Adam frowned. “You sure this time?” “Yeah, yeah. I remember the fountain.” The house itself could not be seen from the road – hedges and trees blocked the view. But there was a large, marble fountain visible, spraying jets of water into the air in an impressive display that reminded Adam somewhat of the Bellagio Hotel in Vegas. He pulled up behind the tow truck, and Axel jumped out. Busta went to follow, but Axel turned and shook his head. “Stay here, Busta,” Axel instructed. Busta obeyed, and Axel and Adam set off across the tarmac, walking around the tow truck blocking the house’s driveway. Adam waved to the tow truck operator. “Anybody home here?” The operator, a fat man in his late thirties and wearing a hard helmet, shrugged his shoulders. “How the hell should I know?” Adam forced a smile, then turned to Axel and muttered under his breath, “Helpful citizen.” They walked up the driveway to where a brand new Mercedes 950SL was parked. Axel whistled through his teeth. “Nice car,” he said. “Complete with hydrogen fuel cell. That must’ve made a dent in somebody’s wallet.” Around a corner of lush palm trees and ferns, and the house came into view: an ultra-modern glass palace, sleek and sophisticated, easily worth tens of millions of dollars. “Keep your shooter under wraps,” Adam whispered. “We don’t want to give some innocent taxpayer a coronary.” Axel smirked. “My, aren’t we the cautious one today? Adam, nobody who lives in a house like this is completely innocent.” They carefully circled the house until an impressive, commanding view of Los Angeles – from the Wilshire District to Marina Del Rey – presented itself. Axel blinked. “The city looks so peaceful from here.” Adam nodded. “Hard to believe it’s fast becoming a center of crime and violence where no-one is safe.”

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It was true. Over recent months, crime had become a major issue for the city – looting, random violence and destruction were becoming increasingly rampant. Nobody knew why… Behind them, they saw that the house was actually propped up on stilts. The entire back deck was precariously overhanging the canyon. “Let’s hope there isn’t a massive earthquake anytime soon,” Axel muttered, as they walked across the deck and passed through a massive sliding glass door. They entered a large, modern-looking hallway filled with expensive furnishings. Over in one corner, they saw a muscular man lifting weights. “What’ve we got here?” Adam said under his breath. The man was tall and well-built, with an orange Mohawk protruding from the top of his head. He wore a pair of old jeans with holes worn in the knees, with a studded black vest that exposed his rippling chest muscles. He looked more like a relic of the 1980s than the 2010s and was decidedly out of place in this sleek and modern house – definitely not the owner. He lifted a heavy barbell over his head, facing a mirrored wall. His back was turned to the sliding glass door, but he could still see Axel and Adam in the mirror. As the two young police officers approached, they saw that he was wearing a corporate name badge that identified him as ‘Beano’. He also had the Blue Swan emblem tattooed on his right arm, just as Donovan had a few days earlier. Bingo, Axel thought. Suddenly, the man – Beano – spun round… and hurled the barbell violently towards Axel and Adam. The barbell sailed through the air and knocked both of them backwards. Axel’s gun was drawn even before he crashed down onto the floorboards. And it was a good thing, too, because the weightlifting punk rocker had grabbed up an Uzi. Axel fired off several rapid shots. Beano’s Uzi sprayed wildly, smashing expensive potted plants, shattering them into small bits. Adam joined Axel in the crescendo of fire, and then Beano turned and fled down the hallway and through the back door. “After him!” Axel roared. Beano ran from the house and was about to jump into the Mercedes parked out in the driveway when he realised that the tow truck was blocking the way. Instead, he ran down the driveway and jumped into the tow truck. The tow truck’s operator had just finished hooking up the Honda when he heard the truck’s motor roar to life. “What the fuck? Hey!” the man shouted. Axel and Adam arrived just as the tow truck squealed away, pulling the Honda behind it. Wasting no time, Axel jumped onto the back of the tow truck. He was visibly angry, fuelled by intense emotions that had been pent-up ever since the death of his father. Adam watched helplessly as the tow truck pulled away down the street, hoping his friend didn’t do anything too foolish. “Don’t kill him!” he shouted, then made a dash for his own vehicle. He jumped in behind the wheel and fired up the motor. Busta began to climb over from the back seat. “What’re you doing?!” Adam roared. “See better up here!” Busta said. Adam shoved Busta backwards into the rear seat. The tow truck stormed onward down the narrow canyon road. Axel was working his way up toward the truck’s cab, holding on to the towing boom for support

35

– taking care not to be seen in the rear view mirror. The truck was taking the curves at dangerous speeds, causing the Honda towing behind to fishtail in all directions. Adam’s sedan roared up behind the speeding truck. Adam could see what Axel was up to, and he didn’t feel comfortable with it one bit. Axel tapped the barrel of his pistol against the cab’s rear window to get Beano’s attention. Beano glanced over his shoulder and jerked in surprise. Axel smiled, as if to say “Surprise, asshole!” But instead of slowing down, Beano accelerated and the truck surged forwards. Axel looked dismayed, squinting at the wind resistance rushing against his face and hair, thinking he may have bitten off more than he could chew here. Beano reached down with his left hand and pulled a small automatic pistol from an ankle holster, then fired it over his right shoulder through the cab’s rear window. Axel pulled away as the glass exploded in his face and the bullet grazed his cheek. Four more shots followed through the back of the cab’s wall. To escape the volley, Axel leapt up onto the cab’s roof. Damn, Axel thought, holding on for dear life. And this looked so much easier in the movies… Adam stayed close on the truck’s tail, startled to see that Axel was now clinging on to the roof. Inside the cab, Beano could hear Axel clambering about on the roof and he slammed on the brakes. The truck began squealing and skidding across the road. Axel was propelled forward – he bounced off the hood, then rolled off the front of the truck – directly into its’ path. Beano gritted his teeth, seizing his chance, and floored the accelerator. He cackled to himself as the truck roared violently over the helpless Axel’s form. Down below, Axel was able to narrowly avoid a crushing death by grabbing onto the truck’s winch and cable rig platform which protruded from the front bumper. He roared in agony, his arm muscles bulging, as the truck began to drag him along the road. He straddled the winch, his legs dangling out in front of him, the heels of his shoes scraping the tarmac as it sped beneath him. Beano checked his side mirrors and saw that Adam was still following from behind. He crossed the center line, thundering the tow truck around a hairpin turn. The Honda being towed behind the vehicle whipped back and forth like an animal’s tail. Undeterred, Adam’s sedan matched the tow truck’s every move. If anything, Adam Hunter was a great pursuit driver. Meanwhile, Axel was not having a great time. Being strapped to the bumper of a speeding vehicle was not his idea of fun, and it was more painful than it looked. The pavement whizzed by only inches below him. He was totally unprotected; a headon collision would smash him like a bug, and this was exactly the thought that occurred to him as the tow truck crossed the center line directly into the path of an oncoming station wagon. Axel closed his eyes and braced himself – and the two vehicles swerved apart at the last possible second to avoid a direct hit. The station wagon scraped against the tow truck’s side as it passed, sending a shower of sparks into the air. Axel breathed a sigh of relief, astonished that he had actually survived this long without breaking any bones. Inside the sedan, Adam howled with surprise and frustration as the station wagon tore past, blasting its horn. Busta finally decided that fastening his seatbelt was a good idea.

36

The tow truck ran a stop sign and squealed onto Mulholland Drive. Adam’s sedan clung to the truck like glue, both vehicles racing full bore down the road, against the backdrop of the sprawling San Fernando Valley. Their speed was fast approaching eighty miles per hour. Axel risked a glance over his shoulder. He saw that they were speeding fast and low down Mulholland – blowing past oncoming traffic – swerving around slower moving vehicles – darting back into the proper driving lane with only inches of daylight to spare. The hurtling action was so fast-paced he could barely hear himself think. He had his gun in his hand, but what was he going to do? Shoot the truck’s driver? Shoot out a tire? But first… A huge van loomed up ahead, travelling in the same direction as the truck, but at only half the speed. Beano decided to pass it, stomping down on the gas pedal, kicking the truck’s speed up to 100. At the same moment Axel fired his gun into the truck’s engine compartment, hoping to hit something vital that would bring this mad chase to a halt. Impossibly, it worked. Beano was stunned to find the truck losing power – the speedometer needle was beginning to drop rapidly… 70mph, 50mph… But the truck was now side-by-side with the moving van, and didn’t have enough power to get around it, nor could it fall back into its own lane because the moving truck was already there. To make matters worse, a Land Rover with a surf board attached to the roof was speeding towards it from the opposite direction. Axel could see this horror-show unfolding from his front-row seat. The moving van loomed up beside them like a sheet-metal canyon wall. Its big tires spat gravel and dust into his face, its noisy diesel engine belching smoke and heat. And the Land Rover. The Land Rover was headed directly for them, seemingly unfazed. Beano only had one option: he slammed his foot down on the brake so hard, he practically sent it through the floorboard. The resulting action happened so fast… The tow truck’s wheels locked, screaming and squealing across the tarmac in a cloud of blue smoke… Axel was thrown off the winch platform into the road… Adam reacted, hitting his own brakes, but there just wasn’t time. The police sedan crashed into the Honda being towed by the truck. The Honda was propelled over the top – shearing off everything that extended above the level of the truck’s cab in a halo of sparks. Axel looked up in stunned amazement to see the underside of the Honda as it passed over his head. The Land Rover driver saw the airborne Honda flying towards him and braked hard. The Honda smashed down onto the road directly in the path of the Land Rover and continued skidding forward, slamming into it violently. The surf board atop the Land Rover was launched like a rocket, slicing fifteen feet through the air toward the tow truck. Beano, unable to believe his eyes, watched in horror as the surf board hurtled toward him like a guided missile. It exploded through the wind shield, shattering glass in every direction. It was over. Once the dust had settled, Adam saw that the front end of his police sedan had been destroyed. He and Busta climbed out – shaken, but not hurt. “You okay?” Adam winced, surveying the scene.

37

“Never better,” Busta coughed. He was still in a state of shock, unable to quite believe what had just happened. The Honda had been totalled by the Land Rover, which had also sustained considerable front end damage. Luckily, the driver was unhurt. Axel got to his feet, battered, bruised, and madder than hell. He charged toward the tow truck with his gun out, intent on finishing this… then stopped short. He saw the surf board protruding from the windshield on the driver’s side. The expression on Beano’s dead face was one of pure terror. Adam and Busta came to join him. “Wipe out,” Busta said. Axel nodded, a sour expression on his face, but didn’t say anything. Cop cars began to arrive at the scene then, bubble lights flashing. Uniformed policemen jumped out. Adam approached them, displaying his badge. Axel took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. This was only the beginning.

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7

11:58pm

A black Mercedes pulled quietly into the driveway. It parked, and two men got out: Haku-Oh and Antonio. Haku-Oh was dressed in a traditional light-brown and red Shaolin robe, which flowed loosely around his legs as he moved. Emblazoned down his right sleeve was the Chinese word:

形意拳 He was a powerful and ruthless figure, master of the four-thousand-year-old Chinese art of Xingyiquan – one of Shaolin Kung-Fu’s major forms. Tall, in his thirties, with black hair tied in a pony tail, he was totally dedicated to his training. In his native China, he had been nicknamed “God of the Lance” (simplified Chinese: 神 枪) for his exemplary skill, and was respected like a guardian deity, for singlehandedly defeating a group of bandits raiding his village when he was just twelve years old. His mood this evening was dire, and rightly so. The cops were on the verge of exposing Blue Swan after almost twenty years of complete operational secrecy – and it was mostly down to the antics of the bungling, drug-addicted fools he employed. His master, Lucius Hawk, was not happy about these recent security breaches, and had charged him personally with ensuring that no further mistakes were made. The other man, Antonio, was an Italian giant: seven feet one inches tall, and built like a powerhouse. He was dressed in denim jeans and, rather bizarrely, a denim winter jacket with a fur collar. His short brown hair was styled with care and time. In his younger days, he had been ranked number three in the world boomerang-throwing championships, a skill he liked to carry through into his fighting technique today. A street fighter and the head of several local drugs cartels, he had seen more than his fair share of scrapes over the years. Now almost forty, he worked for criminals more powerful than most people could imagine, even Blue Swan… Once the two men had disappeared inside the modern-looking, expensive glass house, Axel, Adam and Bellamy’s team emerged from their hiding places and closed in. “Move, move, move!” Inside, Haku-Oh frowned, staring down at the barbell and spent ammunition cases on the floor from earlier in the day. He called out to the next room, where his colleague had disappeared to. “Antonio, come here. Check this out.” Silence. Suddenly and without warning, a Beretta was pressed to the side of Haku-Oh’s head. It was Axel Stone, smiling an angry, mirthless smile. “Freeze, dickhead,” Axel said. “Police.”

39

Haku-Oh remained calm, exhaling with quiet impatience. “Take it easy, officer. I’m not armed. I won’t resist.” Axel shoved him. “Oh, please. Just a little.” They were joined by Adam Hunter and Detective Bellamy, who led them into the next room. There, Antonio was leaning against the wall with his arms and legs spread apart as Officers Miguel and Price patted him down, handing his wallet to Detective Kavanagh. Detective Mason came down the stairs. “Nobody upstairs,” he said. Haku-Oh gritted his teeth. “You have no idea what you’re doing.” Adam looked at him. “I wouldn’t worry about that. We’re professional police officers. We do this for a living.” “My name is Haku-Oh. This other gentleman is Villem Antonio. We are with the United Nations Consulate here in Los Angeles. Our diplomatic credentials and passports are over there in the desk.” Adam and Axel exchanged a doubtful look. “Go and see for yourself!” Haku-Oh barked. Detective Bellamy went to the desk to retrieve them. At the same moment, a woman entered the room. She was in her twenties, with long curly blonde hair; dressed in a seductive red and black body-conscious Lycra jumpsuit with a PVC collar and belt, and a PVC hat. Long, red boots and gloves completed the look of a hardened dominatrix. She carried a briefcase in one hand. Her name was Nora. Nora’s arrival startled the police officers, who instinctively trained their guns on her. She gasped in horror. “She’s only my secretary, for God’s sake!” Haku-Oh spat. He turned to Nora. “These are police officers, Queen.” Bellamy scoffed. “Your secretary? Isn’t she dressed a little… sensual for that?” “I resent that,” Nora said. “A woman should be free to dress however she pleases. The door was open, so I just – “ Axel and Nora made eye contact. He stepped forward and took the briefcase from her hand. “I’ll take that.” “Don’t open that!” Haku-Oh blurted. “That’s a diplomatic pouch! Protected under article 27 of the Vienna Convention…” “Would you shut up?” Axel said. He turned to the other cops. “Put the cuffs on him.” Officer Miguel stepped forward to follow Axel’s instruction, but stopped halfway as Axel waved him back. “Wait a second…” Axel bent his head toward Haku-Oh, frowning. “I recognise you…” He licked his lips. “Step forward into the light.” Haku-Oh sighed, and obeyed. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered. When the light from the hallway illuminated his facial features, Axel’s heart jumped in his chest. “You’re a criminal!” Axel roared, and pointed a finger at him accusingly. “You killed my father!” Haku-Oh frowned. “Don’t be absurd.” Bellamy had the passports and credentials in his hand. “These look official, Axel.”

40

“They are official,” Haku-Oh told him. “Under the Diplomatic Relations Act, no diplomatic agent can be detained or arrested once his identity has been established.” “Bullshit,” Axel hissed. “You killed my father, you son of a bitch. You’re a murderer!” Haku-Oh was indignant. “I am a diplomat.” “You’re a murderer!” Axel roared. “And I’m gonna take you down!” Haku-Oh snorted. “Why, you can’t even give me a traffic ticket.” Axel clenched his jaw, his nostrils flaring. “Who’s the ‘dickhead’ now, officer?” Haku-Oh smiled arrogantly. “Alright,” Axel nodded. “Prove it. Let me see your arm.” “What?” “Let me see your upper right arm.” Haku-Oh took a deep breath, looking around at the faces of the expectant cops. Then he sighed, and lifted his sleeve. There, tattooed just below his shoulder, was the familiar emblem of Blue Swan. “Blue Swan,” Axel observed, nodding to himself. He raised his Beretta, pointing the barrel directly at Haku-Oh’s mouth. “I don’t think your ‘diplomatic’ claim means shit. You killed my father, and you’re going to pay…” Haku-Oh sighed. There was no point in pretending anymore. Then he chuckled to himself, amused at what Axel was saying. “Killed your father? I don’t even know who you are…” Axel stepped forward, his eyes burning with fierce determination. “Take a good look at me, asshole.” Haku-Oh squinted, then raised his eyebrows in sudden recognition. “Oh, can it be?” he laughed. “Can you possibly be Locke Stone’s son? The son of that little man who owed us so much money? You disappoint me. For a moment there I thought you were the offspring of somebody important. But Locke Stone was nothing. A nobody.” “You bastard!” Axel roared. “Hey,” Bellamy said, raising his hands slightly. “Axel, you need to calm down here – “ “Calm down? I’ve been waiting over ten years – “ Suddenly, Haku-Oh bolted, launching a fist into Officer Miguel’s face. Miguel fell back, his nose smashed and broken. In the same instant, Antonio threw a backhander, knocking aside the cops who had him against the wall. “Shit!” Adam said, and raised his gun, but Nora dashed toward him and knocked it from his hands with an agile kick. Then she punched him in the face, sending him reeling backward. Axel gritted his teeth and launched himself toward Haku-Oh. Haku-Oh saw him coming and moved into a defensive stance, arms up in some kind of preying mantis position, hands facing outwards. Axel rushed in with a flurry of straights and jabs, but Haku-Oh was able to sidestep and easily palm down any which threatened his space. Axel then launched at him with a few side kicks, each deflected and dodged by the deceptively fast criminal. Axel grunted, and lunged in and down in an attempt to roundhouse-kick the man’s legs, utilising his centre of gravity to execute the agile move, but his reach was not sufficient and Haku-Oh punished him for it with a swift shin-kick to his shoulder as he was rising again. Then Haku-Oh really came to life and started throwing mean, stinging straights, keeping Axel at bay and giving him no opportunity to retaliate.

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Meanwhile, Antonio had his boomerang out, and was using it to round up the other cops. Miguel, Kavanagh and Price were already down; Detective Mason managed to fire off another couple of rounds before the boomerang chopped through the air and cracked into his face. He gasped, before Antonio’s powerful fist smashed straight between his eyes. He collapsed, instantly defeated. Antonio turned, an insane look in his eyes, seeking out Detective Bellamy… Adam was trying to defend himself as Nora assailed him with kicks. “I try not to make a habit of hitting a lady,” he grunted. Then he swung forward, taking advantage of the woman’s hesitation, and threw his fist straight into her stomach. “But you, my dear, are no lady.” Nora doubled over, then Adam sideswiped her in the ribs. Something cracked, and she fell down. Axel was keeping his guard up, absorbing the punishment from Haku-Oh, waiting for a chance. Haku-Oh pulled back to throw a roundhouse kick but Axel saw it coming and ducked, dodging in to throw a couple of jabs and hooks which connected with the man’s torso. It was tougher than an old beef carcass, honed by years of tough training – his fists were clearly having no effect. Thinking quickly, Axel gained purchase on Haku-Oh’s shoulders and threw a couple of knees in to his abdomen and a few in to his legs, attempting to topple him over. One of Haku-Oh’s legs buckled momentarily and Axel sensed an opportunity for some real damage, but a savage elbow connected with his head and sent him sprawling back. As Axel quickly tried to gain composure he missed Haku-Oh’s right leg, which was flying toward his head. The foot made contact with Axel’s skull with a sickening thud, and he fell to the floor, heavily dazed. “Pathetic,” Haku-Oh sneered. Detective Bellamy and Adam Hunter were the only two cops still on their feet, and to make matters worse, Nora was getting back up, dusting herself off. Antonio roared and grabbed at Bellamy, lifting the man in the air in one swift motion, then brought him crashing to the floor in a violent slam. Something cracked, and Bellamy spluttered blood, screaming. Adam fired his gun, only to have the weapon knocked from his hands by Nora’s foot. He tried to dodge, but Haku-Oh was too fast and knocked him down. Axel spat, tasting blood. He tried to get to his feet but the pain issuing from his torn muscles and ligaments was too much. He slumped. Haku-Oh grinned and turned to Nora. “Queen, get the briefcase and step away.” Nora gave him a private, conspiratorial smile. She grabbed the briefcase from the floor and stepped away from the fallen cops. Haku-Oh signalled to Antonio, took one last glance at the police officers, then led his associates toward the doorway. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before any more of them show up.”

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8

Office of Captain Jack Wyndam Mission Division Community Police Station March 23rd 10:37am

Captain Wyndam was sitting at his desk with Axel, Adam and Bellamy’s team assembled before him. Busta was sitting nearby. “Now we’re gonna have the State Department down our throats!” Wyndam yelled. “Probably have to make some kind of formal apology!” Axel frowned. “What? These guys are dirty! They killed my father!” Wyndam sighed and glanced at him. “You don’t know that, Axel. You can’t say that for sure.” “Sir, I know it. I’d recognise that guy anywhere… Besides, they all had Blue Swan tattoos, and managed to pretty much beat the crap out of everybody here. When you’ve lived in the sewer as long as I have, you begin to recognise the rats…” “You wanna nail a diplomat, Axel?” Wyndam said, slightly frustrated. “Catch him red-handed. Catch him in the act. Catch him in possession of something. At least do me that one favour, because right now, these guys are beyond the law.” He took a deep breath and paused, then turned to Bellamy. “Bellamy, I want you to take a couple of weeks off. Get some R and R. You’re no good to anybody with that leg.” Detective Bellamy was standing on crutches, his left leg encased in plaster. His encounter with Villem Antonio had caused him severe, debilitating bone damage which would compromise his ability to do the job properly. He nodded dejectedly, flashing a wounded glance, but didn’t say anything. “I’m re-assigning your guys to a different case,” Wyndam said to him. “I need somebody young and able-bodied to tackle the Blue Swan. Somebody I can trust not to end up with a broken nose, leg or ribs.” Detective Mason frowned. His nose had been broken in the fight. “You can’t do that, sir…” “I just did,” Wyndam told him matter-of-factly. “Now get outta here.” Axel and Adam kept quiet, avoiding eye contact, as Bellamy, Mason and the others shuffled out of the room, muttering under their breath. When they were gone and the door was closed behind them, Wyndam frowned. Up until now, he hadn’t noticed Busta sitting there. Now he regarded the small man with a puzzled expression that was almost comical. “Who the hell is this?” Wyndam asked. Busta got up and extended a hand to Wyndam. “Leo Lopez, but you can call me ‘Busta’. Nice to meet ya.” “Jesus Christ,” Wyndam said, “I forgot all about this guy.” He turned to Axel. “You took a civilian on a bust? A civilian you’re supposed to be protecting?” Busta shook his head. “Don’t worry, captain. Everything’s fine. I always stay in the car.” “Always?”

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“Officer Stone and Officer Hunter are very adamant about that.” Wyndam took a deep breath, shaking his head, trying not to blow his top. He looked at Axel and Adam. “You guys are lucky I like you. Anybody else in my position would have to fire you for gross negligence right now. You seem to have a lot of trouble following orders and doing things by the book… but with all that said, you’re actually pretty good cops when it comes down to it. That was good detective work you did back there. And I do believe you were right to suspect these guys of working for Blue Swan.” Axel nodded. “Thank you, sir.” Wyndam looked at him. “I’m impressed with how you guys performed back there, Axel,” he said. “I like you. You work well together. I think you have a lot of potential. For that reason, I’m promoting you both to detective, and making you partners.” Adam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you serious?” Wyndam opened a desk drawer and pulled out a couple of shiny new police badges. He handed them over. “I rarely make a joke, Detective Hunter. You know that.” Adam smiled, taking his new badge. Detective Hunter. He liked the sound of that. “Hey, congratulations guys,” Busta grinned. “Your first assignment as partners will be taking over the Blue Swan investigation,” Wyndam continued. “What you’ve done in the past couple of days is demonstrate to me that you have what it takes to tackle a case of this magnitude. I wouldn’t be making this decision if I wasn’t completely serious.” Axel was over-the-moon with happiness. He held his new badge up to the sunlight shining through the window and admired it. “We won’t let you down, sir.” Then he looked up, a glimmer of intrigue coming over his features. “Of course, we’re going to need access to all the case files so far.” Wyndam nodded. “Of course. That goes without saying.” Busta licked his lips. “What about me, sir? What’s going to happen to me now?” Wyndam looked at him. “Don’t worry, Mr. Lopez. You won’t be sitting in any more cars while these guys do their police work. I had a call from Central Division this morning – Chief O’Hara wants to speak with you personally before the federal marshals arrive, so you’ll be relocated to downtown Los Angeles later this afternoon.” “I get to meet the Chief of Police?” Busta said. He liked the sound of that. “Cool.” Then he frowned, bringing up a subject that had clearly been haunting him. “I guess… after I cooperate with the feds… tell them all I know… I get to go free, right? No jail time?” “Could be,” Wyndam told him. “Could be.” “That’s good,” Busta said. “Because I’ve learned my lesson. From now on, it’s the straight and narrow for me.” “Yeah.” Wyndam turned and gestured toward the door. “Now get outta here, detectives. Go catch me some bad guys.” Axel smiled as he got to his feet. “With pleasure, sir. And thanks again.”

***

44

Outside in the corridor, Adam couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t believe he just promoted us. I honestly thought we were gonna get fired.” “This is great,” Axel beamed. “Now I finally get the chance to track down my father’s killer, using all the resources at our disposal. This has been a lifelong ambition of mine, you know? So what do you say, partner? Shall we get ourselves acquainted with the Blue Swan case file?” Adam nodded. He was pleased to see Axel in such a good mood; he knew how important this was to him. “Sounds good, Ax. You know, I’m going to kinda miss having Busta around, now that he’s gone. He was real annoying, sure, but if it wasn’t for him… none of this would’ve happened. The promotion, I mean. The assignment.” They walked down the corridor toward the roll call room. “Yeah,” Axel conceded. “He was an okay guy, truth be told, and if his testimony can help put a stop to Blue Swan’s money laundering activities, it’ll be a great help to us. Maybe our paths will cross with his again someday. I certainly hope so.” When they got to the roll call room, where they usually got their patrol assignments, they saw that their things had already been moved out. A little note on the sergeant’s desk told them to go to the detective bureau upstairs ASAP. “You guys have got your own office now,” said Officer Guitterez, grinning at them from where he sat beside a mountain of paperwork. “Your stuff was moved earlier.” Axel thanked him and they took the stairs to the third floor, where the detective bureau was located, a series of nondescript offices lining a windowless corridor with the air conditioning turned up too high. Toward the end of the row they found a door which had been freshly stencilled that morning, DETECTIVE STONE / DETECTIVE HUNTER Adam grinned. “The captain sure hasn’t wasted any time here. I always wanted my own office.” Inside, they each had their own desks furnished with gold name plaques, a computer terminal, a bookcase, an electric lamp, and various other fixtures. Their personal stuff had been placed in a cardboard box and left for them carefully on Axel’s desk by somebody who clearly had too much time on their hands. While Adam rummaged for his lucky collector’s baseball, Axel opened the blinds and perused the pile of documents which had also been left for them near the windowsill. “Here,” Axel said, pulling out a blue manilla folder stamped, EYES ONLY. “Somebody took the liberty of bringing us the Blue Swan file already. I guess we were the last to find out about this promotion.” He opened it and began scanning the contents. Adam found his collector’s baseball and frowned, using his shirt to wipe off a smidgen of grime that soiled the base. “This thing was almost two thousand bucks. They should’ve taken a little more care with it.” Then he positioned it, pride of place, on top of his desk. “World Champions 2002,” he muttered to himself, admiring the thing. “Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim.” Then he went back to the box and retrieved a ceramic pot housing a Sagaretia bonsai tree, with brightly coloured green leaves and a red tinged trunk. He placed it carefully next to the baseball, using his fingers to tenderly groom one of the branches. Axel watched him do this, both amused at the idea of Adam tending to his plants, and curious at the almost OCD-like care he was taking.

45

“Well it looks like this Walter Donovan character is still in custody, luckily for us,” Axel said, checking out the guy’s mugshots. “According to this report, Bellamy has been unable to get any answers out of him whatsoever. The D.A.’s office wants to charge him with Murder One for the killing of a… Thomas Wanter, in his house on the day he was arrested. Not to mention the fact he was carrying a boatload of laundered money and illegal guns in the trunk of his car, and driving whilst intoxicated. And get this – those guns were all stolen from police impound.” “Only a cop would have access to impounded weapons,” Adam said, lowering his gaze suspiciously. “Yeah. Which raises the question, how did they end up on the black market?” “I smell a rat. Any more info on the identity of Donovan’s victim?” “Not much,” Axel said, scanning the coroner’s report. “The guy was a nobody. But he did have one of those tattoos on his right shoulder. He was Blue Swan, no doubts there. Whatever happened, it must’ve involved some kind of infighting in the group. Some kind of disagreement, I don’t know.” Adam took a deep breath. “So what’s our next move?” “We’ll arrange an interrogation with this Walter Donovan, see if we can’t get any answers out of him,” Axel said. “I think I can get him to talk. I’ll be a lot more… persuasive… than Bellamy ever was.” Adam nodded. It felt good, now that they were properly assigned to the case. This was so much better than the usual highway patrol work he found so mundane. And partnered with Axel… they were going to have so much fun.

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9

Residence of Adam Hunter La Habra Heights 8:45pm

Thundering feet bounded down the stairs, and fourteen-year-old Eddie Hunter ran into the living room, a look of pure glee on his face. He was Adam Hunter’s kid brother, short at only four feet nine inches tall, dressed in a Detroit Pistons basketball kit. “Adam, you have a great house!” the boy puffed. “Mind if I try out your roller blades on the street outside?” Adam, his mother Dolores, and Axel were all gathered around the TV. “Sammy, come and sit down,” Adam said calmly. “We’re eating pizza.” Axel was adjusting the TV picture. “Yeah, Sammy. Come and join us.” Eddie made a face, and stopped. “Don’t call me Sammy. I hate it when people call me that. I want you to call me Skate.” “That’s a stupid name,” Adam said teasingly. He pulled a slice of pizza out of its box and handed it to him. “Come on, sit down bro. We’re supposed to be celebrating here.” Skate took the slice and collapsed resignedly beside Axel. “This is how you celebrate getting promoted? By eating pizza and watching the home improvement channel? Where’s the beer? Can’t we put the wrestling on?” Axel stifled a grin, but didn’t say anything. Dolores Hunter was staring at the TV with an appraising look. “Perfect picture, Axel,” she said. “Good job.” She was fifty-two years old, and had a face weathered by many years of brutal experience; having raised both Adam and Eddie pretty much single-handedly since her younger days as a drug addict, she’d seen her fair share of hardship. Unconvinced, Axel frowned. “You think so, Mrs. Hunter?” He took another bite of his pizza, chewed heartily, then pointed the remote and fired another couple of buttons. Restless, Skate leapt up from the sofa and headed toward the front door. “This is boring. I’m going to play outside.” “Be careful, Sammy,” Adam called after him. “Screw you,” the boy said. The door slammed. Dolores shook her head. “Impossible child,” she muttered. Then she got up and made her way into the kitchen. Axel watched her go, then turned to Adam. “Thanks, by the way,” he said. “For inviting me here this evening. It’s always nice to meet your folks.” Adam shook his head. “Don’t sweat it, Ax. You’re always welcome in my house. And we are celebrating.” Axel grinned. “Yeah. Maybe we’ll crack open a six-pack if it’ll keep Sammy quiet.”

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“You should try living with the squirt,” Adam said, and laughed. “I’m just glad I moved out of mom’s house when I did. And boy, sometimes California doesn’t seem far enough away from Michigan, you know what I mean?” Axel shrugged. “I miss my family.” Adam winced, realising his mistake. Both Axel’s parents were dead. “Oh, sorry bud. My bad. You have Tina though, right? When am I gonna meet your sister again, by the way? I’ve only met her once… and that was at our graduation from the Academy…” Axel forced a short laugh, but clearly he was feeling troubled by what Adam was saying. “Whenever she decides to drag her ass away from her katana training. She’s not content with just having a black belt in karate, you know.” “That girl sounds like a force to be reckoned with.” They went into the kitchen. Axel leaned against one of the counters, eating his slice of pizza as Dolores unloaded the dishwasher. Axel watched her as if mesmerised by the simple domestic chore. “You have your mother well trained, Adam,” he joked. Dolores turned to look at him. “You’re welcome to sit at the table, you know,” she said. “I like to eat standing up,” Axel told her. Dolores looked into his eyes and saw the troubled look behind them. “Something wrong, Axel?” Axel didn’t answer right away. He flashed Adam a wounded glance, then gritted his teeth. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just something Adam said which reminded me of my mom and dad. You know, it’s two years ago this week… when my mom died. I can’t get it out of my head now.” Dolores gave him a motherly frown. “Is it something you want to talk about?” Axel shrugged. Dolores took this as a ‘no’. “You don’t have to.” But Axel wanted to talk about it, and went straight in. “It was supposed to be such a happy day. Me and Adam – graduating from the Academy and becoming fullyfledged police officers. It was a celebration…” Dolores nodded. “I remember.” “I spoke to mom that morning on the phone,” Axel continued. “She was driving to the ceremony from Los Angeles. She promised she wouldn’t be late, and she was bringing me a present. When she didn’t turn up, I thought she’d forgotten. When I got home, the phone was ringing. Must have been ten or eleven at night. I answered the phone and got the news. She was dead. Killed in a car crash on the Orange flyover.” He licked his lips. “And then I remember going down on my knees, shaking all over and thinking, ‘Here we go. I’m losing it.’ So now I’m laying on the floor of the living room, seeing under the couch… and there’s this pen I’ve been looking all over for. Then I hear a voice like a drill instructor saying, ‘Get up, now!’ But I stay down, and the voice keeps telling me to get up.” He shook his head at the memory. “I know how crazy that sounds.” “You were distraught, you poor boy,” Dolores said. “I did something weird next,” Axel sighed. “I decided to stop crying, just to see if I could. And I could. And then… I stretched my mouth into a smile. I was hurting, but my muscles still worked, and I stood up. After that, I drove to the morgue. Identified the body, and signed the papers with my pen.” Dolores was moved by the story. There were tears in her eyes. But Axel himself was unfazed, almost detached by it. “I can talk about it,” Axel said. “It doesn’t really hurt to talk about it.”

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“Then what does?” Dolores asked. “Because you sure as hell have some other demon inside you.” Axel was silent for a moment. His expression was filled with emotion. “My… my father’s death. I don’t like to talk about it. I never talk about it.” Dolores didn’t know what to say. She turned and looked at Adam, who was standing in the doorway, looking concerned. “We have a chance to put Blue Swan to sleep now,” Adam said, putting his hand on Axel’s shoulder. “Maybe we can give you some kind of closure on the whole thing.” Axel nodded, clearing his throat. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his thoughts. “Yeah. You’re right, Adam. But it still isn’t easy to live with.”

*** March 24th 09:41am

In the interrogation room, Axel looked at Adam while he paced slowly in front of Donovan, who sat quietly looking down at the table top, head in his hands, elbows propped on the cold metal. The man had a strained, resigned expression on his face, and Axel figured it was only a matter of time before he cracked psychologically. They had been here for an hour and a half already. “So you have no idea how any of those weapons ended up in the trunk of your car?” Axel asked, moving closer. “No,” Donovan grunted. “Or what caused this man, Wanter, to end up dead on your living room floor?” “No.” Axel stopped, and chuckled to himself. How much longer could this man keep up this ridiculous charade? He turned to face Donovan, looking him directly in the eyes, deciding to take a no-nonsense approach. “Quit fucking with me, Donovan. You can’t hide the truth from me forever. If you don’t start talking right now, I’m going to let Haku-Oh know exactly how you’ve failed him. I’ll be very specific – give him every detail. What we’ve found, what we know…” Something stirred in Donovan, and he looked up. “You wouldn’t…” Axel grinned, pleased he was finally getting somewhere. Obviously Donovan had heard Haku-Oh’s name before. “Actually, I would.” Donovan’s eyes darted one way and then the other, as if looking for an escape. He was sweating, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. He licked his lips. “I’m already facing a charge of Murder One. Maybe I’ll be safer in jail. If I talk, they might kill me.” “If you help us,” Adam said, leaning forward from where he stood beside the door, “it’s likely we can put a stop to Blue Swan’s activities for good. We can put these guys away for a very long time. And as an added incentive, we’ll put a good word in for you at the DA’s office.” Donovan blinked. “You can do that?” Axel nodded. “Sure. One of the assistant DAs is a personal friend of mine. I can get your charge down to Manslaughter Three – if you talk.” “And…and Haku-Oh won’t find out?”

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Axel shook his head. “Look, Dono. The way I see it you have two options. Either you remain quiet and I tell Haku-Oh what’s been happening here, you get sent down for Murder One and probably get killed inside by Blue Swan’s cronies. Or, you can talk, we put Blue Swan to sleep, and you can get away with Man Three. It’s a generous offer, Donovan. Do the right thing.” There was a moment of silence as Donovan considered the offer on the table. He nodded to himself, making up his mind. “Allright,” he said finally. “I’ll talk.” Axel gave Adam a satisfactory nod. He turned to Donovan and said, “Okay, guy. I want you to speak to Adam here. Tell him everything, okay? I have to be somewhere.” Donovan nodded, and watched Axel exit the room through the single door and disappear into the corridor outside. Captain Wyndam was watching everything from the observation room behind the two-way mirror. He turned his head slightly as Axel came to join him. “Nice tactic, Axel,” he muttered. He regarded the younger man with an air of fatherly pride. “Thankyou, sir,” Axel said and stood beside him. They both stared into the interrogation room. “The truth is,” Donovan was saying, “I haven’t been happy with my role in the Blue Swan gang for some time now. I’ve wanted out, but… well, I’m sure you know how difficult it is for someone to just leave an organised criminal gang. You can’t. They’d kill you for trying.” Adam Hunter nodded. “Go on.” “Well, I’ve been having these thoughts… these thoughts about leaving… for about six months now. And its really getting to me, you know? Like, getting to my head. Making me depressed. It makes me drink. If I drink enough whisky sometimes, just sometimes, it lets me forget my life’s troubles and just enjoy the moment, even if it’s only a fleeting one.” “What exactly is your role in Blue Swan, Mr. Donovan?” Adam asked. “I’m a transporter,” Donovan said. “I transport shipments of money and guns from their source to Blue Swan’s drugs processing plant in Long Beach… one of their major centres of activity for the past twenty years or so.” “Where do the guns come from?” “Police impound. Our boss, Lucius Hawk, knows all the transponder codes and access passwords that get us in to the impound facility. After that, it’s a simple case of dash-and-grab. Mr. Hawk makes all of the arrangements. I don’t know how he knows so much about the inner workings of the police department, but maybe you know more about that than I do…” Adam raised his eyebrows, and made a quick glance toward the two-way mirror. From the observation room, Axel frowned. He turned to Captain Wyndam and asked, “Does the name Lucius Hawk mean anything to you, sir?” Wyndam gritted his teeth, and took a deep breath, nodding. “Sure does. Lucius Hawk is a cop, or at least a rogue cop. He went AWOL a few years back, and nobody saw him since. Son of a bitch. I never thought in a million years somebody like him could be the leader of a gang like Blue Swan.” Adam continued his questions: “What about the stiff on your living room floor? What’s his story?” “I was working with him,” Donovan explained. “That night I got a little too drunk on the whisky, and let slip about my plans to leave the gang. I showed him my

50

photographs of the gang’s secret desert hideout… which I planned on selling to a rival gang…” “I take it Mr. Wanter wasn’t too impressed with your revelations?” Adam asked. “No. He was going to take it all to Haku-Oh. They would’ve fucking killed me, no doubt about it. So… I had to kill him, to keep him quiet, you know?” Adam nodded. This was all making sense now. “This… drugs factory you mentioned. You’ve been there before? You know the layout?” Donovan nodded. “Yes. I have been there many times. It’s in Long Beach. I can even draw you a map if you want. I know the security men, the weapons they use, their timetables. I can give you all this, and more.” “Long Beach?” “Right.” From where he watched, Axel swallowed dryly. Long Beach. Yeah.

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10

Stone Dōjō (Locke Stone’s School of Martial Arts) Long Beach, California May 12th, 1998

“Very good, Axel. You have finally mastered the technique of backfist. I am highly impressed with your progress so far. Soon, I am confident you will achieve your sandan – the third degree black belt. But there is more work to be done before I can bestow that rank upon you.” Axel Stone relaxed a little, and turned to face his father, giving a short bow. The training session had been going on since very early in the morning, since before sunrise in fact, and now it was almost lunchtime. Soon, they would stop for a break. “I want to be the best there is, dad,” Axel said, concentrating his breathing. “Like you.” Locke Stone smiled down at his six-year-old son. The boy still had much to learn. “Axel, just because I have mastered the art of Kyokushin Kaikan, it does not make me invincible. My tenth-degree black belt will not protect me from an assassin’s bullets, for instance.” “Nobody could defeat you in a fight,” Axel said. “A proper fight, I mean.” Locke sighed a half-laugh. “I wish that were so.” Locke Stone was twentyeight years old, six feet tall, with blonde hair styled in thick spikes. He had a muscular, toned, yet well proportioned physique, and he looked totally at ease in his authentic Japanese karate dogi. Born in Newark, New Jersey, Locke had relocated to Long Beach after meeting the love of his life, Mara Moss, ten years earlier in 1988. They’d opened the Stone Dōjō a year later, having designed the building themselves from the ground up. The Stone Dōjō had a number of unusual design features, including glassdoored walls on two sides that opened into gardens, deep skylights and a specially sprung wooden door. The long and relatively narrow shape of the main hall meant it was ideal for fighting practise involving a single row of paired-off combatants. Locke and Mara had been teaching martial arts in their own dōjō now for almost a decade, and they’d raised their son Axel Stone in the discipline of Kyokushin since birth. Now the boy was just six years old, and already a multiple-level black belt. Locke was proud of this achievement; few children could attain such a high rank at this early age. If he continued learning and practising at this pace, Locke was confident his son could be a master before his tenth birthday. The boy certainly had the passion and the motivation to succeed. “Before we break for lunch,” Locke said, “I want to begin teaching you one of the most powerful moves you will ever use…” Axel’s ears perked up. “Really?” Locke nodded. “I think you are now ready to learn the art of the Grand Uppercut – a blitz attack that, if performed properly, will topple any opponent, no matter their size or apparent strength.”

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Excitement stirred within young Axel; he’d seen his father execute the Grand Uppercut during competitive tournaments – it had always been the finishing move which turned the fight in Locke’s favour before a decisive win. He nodded, so eager to learn he was willing to forego their lunch break just to fit in more training time. “Ready when you are, dad.” Locke took a deep breath. The Grand Uppercut was indeed one of the most powerful moves in his repertoire, and teaching it to Axel now was a natural progression if the boy was to earn his third-dan anytime soon. “Very well. First I want you to adopt a Moto-dachi – the foundational stance.” Axel obeyed, standing with both legs slightly bent. He faced his left foot straight forward and pointed his right foot at about 20-30 degrees. His body faced squarely forwards as he began moving his center of mass up and down, ready for the transition from defence to attack. “Good,” Locke said. “Now, observe.” He threw his body forward, making an impressive upward motion with his right fist resembling a pirate’s hook. Axel attempted to copy the manoeuvre, but fell slightly short. “A good first attempt,” Locke said. “Try to bear in mind, that the enemy may try to counter with a straight punch while you are driving forward. You must stay close, and keep the arm slightly bent at the elbow. If not, you cannot effectively transfer the total body’s force in the upward movement.” Axel nodded, allowing his father to reposition his arms ready for his next attempt. He tried again, this time achieving a better posture and delivery. “Excellent,” Locke beamed. “Much better. But, I can see we still have some way to go. After lunch, we will do some sparring, and can apply what you have learned this morning into the session.” Axel smiled. One day, he would be a master of the Grand Upper.

***

Stone Family Residence November 22nd, 1998

Axel roared, tapping at the buttons on his Saturn controller, frowning at the screen in frustration. No matter how hard he tried, he was unable to block the relentless onslaught of attacks from his digital opponent, and after another moment of tense button-mashing, his character’s lifebar was gone and the game was over. Pissed off, he tossed the game controller to one side without bothering to look. “Best of five?” Mystery asked, grinning. Axel sighed and shook his head. “Nah. You’re too good. I’ll never beat you. Either that, or there’s something wrong with my controller. I could swear that the ‘x’ button isn’t working properly…” Mystery was Axel’s best friend. He lived across the street and attended the same elementary school as Axel. They shared an interest in video games, soccer, and pro-wrestling, and had been close friends for a few years now. Mystery, whose real name was Sham Mohammad, couldn’t help but grin even wider. “Excuses, excuses…”

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Axel shook his head. “Seriously, if this were a real life fight, I would whip your skinny little butt to kingdom come.” Mystery smirked. “Yeah, well it isn’t supposed to be real, Axel. It’s just a game. Besides, we don’t all have a mom and dad who teach us world-class martial arts from home.” Axel switched off the Saturn console. They’d been playing games for almost three hours straight, and he’d lost virtually every bout of X-Men: Children of the Atom. He wasn’t a sore loser, but there was only so much beating he could take before the whole thing just became monotonous. “I expect a rematch after school tomorrow,” Mystery said. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Axel nodded, then frowned as something barely audible caught his attention. Shouting. The sound of grown-ups arguing. “You hear that?” he asked. Mystery nodded. “Mmhmm.” Axel went to the bedroom window, released the catch and opened it. He peered out and looked down. From the second-storey window he had a good view of the well-maintained courtyard and driveway beyond, and it was there he saw his father arguing with a younger man dressed in some kind of Chinese robes. “What’s going on?” Mystery said, trying to shoulder Axel out of the way so he could get a look. “Sssh!” Axel hushed, refusing to budge. “Lemme see!” “That’s all I have, I swear!” Locke Stone was saying down on the driveway. There was a desperation in his voice that Axel had never heard before, and it scared him. “I need a few months to get the rest, but I assure you, I can get it. I just need more time!” The man in the Chinese robes was peering discreetly at the contents of an unmarked black briefcase. From the look on his youthful face, he was definitely not amused. On his upper right arm, Axel noticed a distinctive tattoo depicting what appeared to be a swan. It was a design he’d seen on several strange visitors to the dōjō over the past few weeks. Was it significant? “You owe us three million,” the man said. “That includes interest. This here… is not enough.” Locke shook his head. “I’m telling you – I just need more time.” Axel didn’t know what was going on here exactly, but he didn’t like it one bit. Did his father owe people money? Why? He robed man licked his lips, contemplating something. Then he nodded. “Very well. I am not an unreasonable man. You may have another three months. But mark my words, if payment is not made by then… the consequences will be most severe. Blue Swan does not tolerate failure.” Locke nodded vigorously. “I understand. Thankyou. And don’t worry, you’ll get your money.” The younger man’s eyes narrowed. “I hope so, Locke, for your sake. The big boss is not as… forgiving… as I am. Good day.” With that he turned, and marched toward a black Sedan waiting by the sidewalk. Moments later, it had disappeared in a cloud of dust and the sound of squealing rubber.

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Axel swallowed in the depths of his throat, scared and uneasy, watching as his father walked back to the house with a dejected posture. Then he closed the window silently, turning back to Mystery, who stared at his friend with unspoken awe. “I think you’d better go home now, Mystery,” Axel said. “I don’t feel like playing anymore.” Mystery nodded. He wasn’t stupid. He knew something wasn’t quite right here. He gathered his things and made quietly for the exit, hoping that everything would be okay for his friend.

*** March 3rd, 1999 01:49am

It was a peaceful Californian night, and shadowy deeds were afoot. The alarm clock beside Axel Stone’s bed changed to 01:50am, the digital readout glowing lightly in the dark room. Young Axel stirred, shifting uncomfortably in his sleep. Something was very wrong. His eyes blinked open, and he frowned. An unpleasant smell had roused him from sleep, a thick toxic odour that immediately made him gag. In a split second, he realised that he was gasping for breath. Smoke! He coughed heavily, jerking himself out of the bed, rolling onto the carpeted floor in one desperate motion. As he focused his vision, he saw a dense, rolling cloud of black smoke filtering into his room from beneath the closed door. The smoke had already permeated the entire room and if he didn’t act fast, he was going to be asphyxiated. In a blind panic, Axel got to his feet, wearily at first – already his strength was leaving him and he could see pink spots forming in his vision. He dashed to the bedroom window and tore it open, then poked his head out and spluttered into the cool night air outside, smoke pouring out of the window around him. He spent a few moments there taking deep gasps of fresh air, his chest wheezing, recovering some of his strength, unable to even think about anything else but his breathing. Then, as his lungs began to recover slightly, he looked at the view of the house and courtyard from the window, and the dōjō beyond: wreathed in flame, everything burning in a crescendo of red fire. “Noooo!” he croaked, hot tears forming in his eyes. He turned back into his room, squinted through the ever-increasing cloud of smoke, and saw a terrifying orange glow behind the bedroom door. He considered running towards it to test the door knob, but even as the thought entered his head, orange flames began licking upward from the base of the door. The fire was right outside. Clearly it was too late to escape that way. Axel cried out in terror, almost jumping out of his skin as a piece of the ceiling caved in over the door, weakened by the intense heat. Everything was happening so fast, and he was absolutely terrified. Sobbing, he peered out the window again, looking down at the ground below. He would have no choice but to jump, he was

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sure. Trouble was, the window was two storeys up, and the ground below solid concrete, dotted with gravelled flowerbeds. There was no tree he could use to break his fall. Surely, the jump would hurt him severely, it was a twenty foot drop at least. “Shit!” he muttered. He licked his lips, deciding to holler for help instead. “Heeeelp!” But his young voice could barely be heard over the insane roar of the fire. Somewhere in the distance, he thought he could hear a siren, maybe a fire truck, but they would not get here in time. The fire had almost completely devoured his bedroom door now – jumping to the ground was his only choice, lest he burn to death right here, right now. Throwing caution to the wind, Axel braced himself and hurled his body feet first through the open window. He flailed like a rag doll for two seconds, holding his breath, before landing in a crumple on the hard floor below. He yelped in agony as something snapped: a sudden, sharp pain issuing from his ankle told him he’d broken a bone. He screamed, cradling his leg, tasting blood in his mouth. He could see fire all around him and for a moment, he didn’t know which way was up, having completely lost orientation during the fall. “Axel!” It was his sister’s voice, calling from somewhere out of sight. He reached out with one arm, and to his relief he felt Tina’s hand grab his. “Amber!” he screamed. “Where’s mom and dad?” Tina Stone was standing over him looking very tired, her blonde hair ruffled, her tank top burned on one side. She was five years old, and had a look of absolute terror on her face. “They’re still inside the dōjō,” she blurted. “Axel, they’re still in there!” Then she blinked, and noticed his injury. “Oh my God, are you okay?” Axel gritted his teeth and roared through pain, getting to his feet. He hobbled toward his sister and gave her a well-needed hug. “Broken ankle,” he choked. “But I’ll live. I’m fine, really.” He was lying. “What about you, Amber?” Tina Stone exhaled heavily. She would usually berate her older brother for calling her by that nickname, but now was not the time. “I’m okay. I got out through the kitchen before it was too late. But I’m worried about mom and dad. They’re trapped in the dōjō’s main hall…” Axel nodded, looking this way and that, getting his bearings. There wasn’t time to wait for the fire department to arrive. If he didn’t act now, their parents were going to die. Without hesitation, he began limping in the direction of the dōjō’s main entrance, just around the corner from the parking garage. The crippling pain from his broken ankle was almost unbearable; he was hot, thirsty and felt sick, but nothing could stop his fierce determination. “Axel!” Tina called, following him. “You can’t go in there! What if you get trapped too? Don’t leave me!” “I have to try,” Axel told her. The flames had almost completely engulfed the house and dōjō now, reaching high into the night sky. The heat was overpowering, making it difficult to see properly. At the dōjō entrance, Axel took one last look at his sister and nodded. “Wish me luck, sis.” He walked into the raging inferno without looking back, determination and rage burning in his heart.

Axel shouldered his way through a blur of heat and light: a hazy coalescence of orange-red flame dancing over his field of vision, covering everything. When he reached the doorway to the main hall, he saw the cause of the blockage which was

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trapping his parents inside – one of the heavy ceiling beams had collapsed and landed horizontally in front of the door. It was the only way in or out of the central training hall: there were no other doors, and the windows had been fitted with cast iron bars as a decorative feature. Axel knelt by the fallen beam, gripping it with his arms, and heaved with all his might. He was still only six years old, but his strength had been honed by a life of training and exercise – he could match that of some fully grown men. Blinking through sweat, his entire body thundering with agony, he was able to dislodge the beam and shift it far enough from the door to open it slightly. As he did, a tongue of flame licked out from the hall beyond, and Axel fell to his knees in shock and pain. At the same time, his ankle felt like it was going to explode with the intense pain from the broken bone. He roared, tears streaming down his face, then forced his way through the door, taking most of his weight on his arms, crawling. Everything was so hot. Smoke was everywhere; there wouldn’t be much time now before the entire dōjō collapsed in on itself. Moving into the main hall, the thought of abandoning his dangerous rescue attempt began to cross his mind. Then, just as he was about to think all hope was lost: a voice through the chaos, his mother – Mara Stone. “Axel! Over here!” He blinked, wiped his brow with the back of his right hand, and moved toward the source of the voice. In the far corner of the room, he found his mother, badly injured, cradling a near-unconscious Locke Stone beneath the stairwell, in a spot the fire hadn’t quite reached yet. “Mom! Dad!” Axel yelled, shielding his face from the heat. Mara was distraught, and coughing uncontrollably. When she recovered, she said, “Axel, your father needs help. I can’t move him by myself…” There was a whooshing sound from somewhere above. The structural integrity of the building was faltering. Locke Stone’s eyes rolled back in their sockets, and he made a deep croaking sound. “I’ll be okay,” he insisted, though it was clear he would not. “Axel, you must get your mother to safety first.” Axel swallowed deeply. What was he going to do? “I want to save both of you. There isn’t time to take you one at a time!” Locke Stone coughed blood. “Axel, listen to me. I’ve been stabbed multiple times. It’s not likely I’m going to survive. Your mother, however… she has a chance. More chance than I have…” Axel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What? No, dad, I won’t leave you here. I came here to save you.” “There’s no time, son. You couldn’t possibly carry both of us. Listen, it was Blue Swan, you hear? Blue Swan did this!” He coughed. Tears streamed down young Axel’s face. “I…I love you, dad.” “I love you too, son,” Locke said. “Now do as I say. Save your mother. Quickly!” Axel helped his mother over his shoulder and began to drag her back toward the doorway. Introspectively, he knew that he would be abandoning his father to his death, and there was nothing he could do about it. As they reached the doorway, Axel turned to regard his father. Locke’s arm was reached out toward them, his eyes streaming with tears. “Go!” he hissed. Against his every instinct, Axel continued onward, knowing that his father was right – there was no way he could save them both. He wasn’t strong enough.

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He tried to ignore his mother’s screams during the tense and painful trek back down the burning corridor toward the dōjō’s main entrance. Outside, he collapsed onto his stomach, his bruised and battered body giving way at last. Mara slid from his shoulder and rolled onto her back on the cold gravel, watching the burning dōjō above with a look of simultaneous horror and fascination. “Axel! Mom!” That was Tina, who had been waiting anxiously nearby. “Where’s dad?” Axel grunted. He wanted to get up and rush back into the building, to rescue his father… but by now his strength had left him completely. He could do little more than turn his head slightly and watch then, as the dōjō finally began to collapse, timber by timber, swallowed up by the ferocity of the fire. “Daaaaad!” Axel screamed. It would be a moment he would remember forever – and the most painful memory of his life.

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11

Long Beach Naval Shipyard Terminal Island, California March 25th, 2012 10:32pm

Y. Signal lit a cigarette, and inhaled the sweet-tasting fumes from the fresh burning tobacco. He exhaled a rolling grey cloud of smoke, and his eyes rolled back in their sockets with pleasure. If there was one thing he enjoyed in this life, it was a nice, quiet smoke. For two or three minutes he could just relax, alone with his thoughts, taking a break from the chaos of the hard labour inside the safe house and catch what he jokingly called some ‘fresh air’. He stood on the loading bay overlooking the industrial pier and the Pacific Ocean beyond, leaning against the cold metal railings. This place was originally a sheet-metal welding factory for the US Navy before these dockyards were decommissioned back in 1997. Now, it was known by those in the loop as the ‘safe house’, a hive of criminal activity since Blue Swan took over in the early 2000s. Primarily it now functioned as a drugs processing plant – heroin was prepped and packaged here twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, by hired hands from his own gang. The Signal gang were a group of mercenary blood brothers, founded by Mavin Signal in the late 1960s – united in blood and oath to protect each other to the death. They now operated alone or in small groups throughout the criminal underworld, working for various different ‘bosses’ in all sorts of functions and roles. The Signals that worked in this building, this ‘safe house’, were only a small minority of the total gang, which operated all over California and Nevada. Nobody really knew how many Signals there were altogether, but it was estimated to be in the thousands. For a gang that lacked any central leadership and who interspersed themselves amongst so many other different organised gangs, they were remarkably successful, and still totally dedicated to each other above all else. Y. Signal took another drag of his cigarette, allowing the pungent smoke to fill his lungs completely before exhaling. It wasn’t his real name, of course. Everybody who joined the Signal gang was usually codenamed by colour to avoid the confusion of diversity and individual identity. The ‘Y’ was short for ‘Yellow’; there were also Red, Green, Blue, and Purple groups, and many others too. They were originally orphans or children from extremely impoverished backgrounds, and giving them anonymous codenames helped them forget the past and become part of the ‘Signal’ collective – an almost religious-like cult mentality that bred a fierce blood-bound loyalty unmatched by any other criminal group in the United States. The Signals at Long Beach had been in the employ of Blue Swan for around fifteen years now, and Y. Signal had pretty much grown up working at the safe house. The place had gotten that nickname because everybody seemed to know about it – even the cops, and nobody ever dared do anything about it. Hell, Blue Swan’s leader, Lucius Hawk, was a cop himself – a fact that just demonstrated how far the corruption had reached in this city. For Los Angeles and its surrounding areas was choking under

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the influence of a powerful criminal element beyond the scope of even Blue Swan, and most of the police force were seemingly involved, some said even the government itself. But Y. Signal tried not to concern himself too much with these matters. He did his work and he was paid twelve-hundred bucks a week for it, cash, no questions asked. That was good enough for him, and all he really cared about at the end of the day. He didn’t pay any taxes, the drugs were free and he had plenty of spare cast to spend on booze and whores. Life was good. The less questions he asked, the better. The factory’s side door creaked open, and Villem Antonio emerged, sparking up a cigarette of his own. When he saw Y. Signal he nodded a silent greeting. “How’s it going, boss?” Signal asked. Antonio shrugged, and blew out smoke. “So so.” He was the man in charge at the safe house, a twenty year veteran of the drugs trade. Italian, with links to some extremely dangerous individuals in the criminal underworld – nobody fucked with him if they could help it. Not if they wanted to live very long. Y. Signal took his last drag, then flicked the still-burning cigarette end over the edge of the railings. It landed somewhere out of sight. He grunted, gave Antonio a respectful nod, then made his way back inside to get back to work.

***

11:09pm

Axel Stone and Adam Hunter sat in the rear compartment of the FV603 Saracen as it roared down the freeway toward the Terminal Island Naval Dry Docks, travelling south from San Pedro. Sitting beside them was Captain Wyndam, along with a crack squad of eight S.W.A.T. team members, led by Sergeant Second Grade Daniel ‘Hondo’ Harrelson, a former Recon marine. The armoured personnel carrier housed a small turret on the roof, carrying a Browning .30 machine gun, and an antiaircraft .303 Bren gun, but it had been specially selected for this operation due to the considerable ram mounted to the front – powerful enough to smash through reinforced walls. “I want you to let the SWAT guys secure the area,” Wyndam said to Axel and Adam, raising his voice to be heard over the violent roaring of the eight-cylinder petrol engine. “They’ve been trained for this sort of insertion. Isn’t that right, sergeant?” ‘Hondo’ Harrelson nodded. “Yes, sir.” He raised his M4A1 carbine and kissed the underslung grenade launcher. “Urban warfare is the name of the game.” Axel took a deep breath. Only a few short days ago, he had been a mere patrol cop doing his mundane rounds, picking up drunk drivers and street corner dope dealers. To be thrust from doing that to this – a full-on special forces operation alongside a veteran SWAT team – in such a short space of time was a lot to take in. He was still running to catch up, and he could see that Adam felt the same way. The man looked like he was about to shit himself with terror. “Adam, are you okay?” he asked. Adam nodded. “Yeah, no sweat.” Axel grinned, but didn’t say anything.

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“Once the factory is secure, you can go in and start your detective work,” Wyndam told them. “I don’t want you to interfere with the sergeant’s operation. Do I make myself clear, Axel? You are to remain with the vehicle until the all-clear is given.” Axel smirked. “Yes, sir. Just the same, I’d like to keep this baby handy, for close encounters.” He gripped the cold steel of a Kimber Custom TLE II, a .45 semiautomatic handgun equipped with laser grip sighting. Wyndam took a deep breath. “We’ll all have to be vigilant, of course.” “Alright, people. Equipment check,” Hondo called. “Weapons and ammo.” Axel watched as the SWAT guys went through the various firearms they favoured. He saw a 10mm Heckler and Koch MP5, a Benelli M1, a Remington 1100, and various other bolt action rifles. Then there were tasers, pepper spray canisters, Stinger grenades, Flash Bang grenades, and tear gas canisters. Sergeant Hondo noticed Axel’s bemused stare. “Something wrong, detective?” Axel blinked. “No. I just… You guys are well organised.” “It pays to be organised in my line of work, detective. One false move and you’re dead or crippled. You should try it sometime. There’s nothing quite like the thrill of a live ammunition firefight with multiple combatants. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to end up a pen pusher like the good captain here…” Wyndam frowned. “That’s enough. Now look alive, we’re coming up on the dockyard now…” Rather than slow down, their driver punched the accelerator, speeding the Saracen through the perimeter barrier and passing derelict warehouses and factories on both sides. Gradually, he increased their speed to sixty-four miles-per-hour, the optimum speed for battering through solid walls. They weren’t going to be walking up and knocking on the front door of this drugs factory, oh no. This was a surprise attack. Donovan’s information had put the drugs factory just on the edge of the industrial pier. As the Saracen raced toward it, there were clear signs of recent activity in the area. Dozens of civilian vehicles parked by the sides of the road, one with its headlights left on. “Impact is imminent,” the driver called. “Hold on to your butts, we’re going in.” Axel braced himself. There was no going back now.

***

Boom! An explosion of heat and light, and the solid brickwork of the factory’s outer wall seemed to peel inward, blasting rubble, glass and dust across the production lines, covering everything. A roaring, chugging sound penetrated the air. Y. Signal coughed violently, his lungs filling with chalky, dry dust and black smoke. What the hell was going on? He turned his head in the direction of the explosion. Through the cloud of smoke and past the shouting, scurrying workers, he could vaguely make out the shape of a police armoured vehicle ploughing its way into the building like some kind of hellish mole… “It’s the cops!” somebody shouted in Spanish, and suddenly the air was filled with the sound of automatic gunfire.

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Y. Signal ducked, trying to use the metal table where he had been working as cover. He heard the clang clang of bullets striking tables nearby, the whizzing of ammunition flying overhead, and the dull thud of flailing bodies being struck down, accompanied by blood-curdling screams. Within moments the entire factory floor had turned into a small war zone. “Mother of Christ!” Signal cursed, and reached for the bootknife he kept strapped at his heel, wishing he had some kind of gun at this moment. Surely, a small blade was not going to save his skin right now. The armoured vehicle had stopped about twenty feet away, and was opening up from a turret weapon on its roof. A moment later, the firing stopped, and then a series of canisters were hurled deeper into the room from somewhere out of sight. Tear gas began to permeate the area, released by the canisters, and Y. Signal suddenly found himself crying, his body unable to regulate the corneal nerves in his eyes, his mucous membranes irritated. He coughed violently, his nose running, and he collapsed to the floor. Completely helpless, he saw the gas cloud illuminated by torch beams, and caught a brief glimpse of gas mask-wearing SWAT cops advancing in, opening fire on his blood brothers. “Noooo!” he hissed. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. This was the safe house. This was his livelihood, had been for years… Hearing the scrunch of broken glass being trampled underfoot behind him, Signal turned and raised his knife, but was immediately struck back by a violent shotgun blast. His body crumpled as it was blown several feet across the floor. He tasted warm blood in his mouth. Cursing through pain, he looked up to see one of the SWAT cops standing over him. “Lights out, scum,” the cop grunted, and raised the shotgun again. The sound of the weapon firing was lost in the overall crescendo of the massive operation.

***

Captain Wyndam was barking orders over the radio. A burst of static came back, then Hondo’s voice, announcing that they’d secured the building. Wyndam turned to Axel and Adam, who were waiting patiently in the rear compartment as they’d been instructed, looking a little overwhelmed by the whole situation. Wyndam realised with some amusement that it was the first time they’d actually done what they’d been told in over a week. “Alright, you two,” he said. “The area is secure and we’ve rounded up a lot of these criminals. You’re free to go in and start dissecting the mess.” Axel nodded, gritting his teeth. “Thankyou sir.” He looked at Adam and raised his eyebrows. “Okay then. Let’s see what we can find here, partner.” “Right,” Adam said. They went.

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12

48 hours later Albertsons Supermarket, Ocean Boulevard Corona Del Mar

Nora was at the produce bins, hand selecting vegetables and placing them in the small plastic basket hooked over her arm. As she moved, she became aware of somebody standing behind her. She turned instinctively, and saw Axel Stone standing there watching her. She raised her eyebrows. “My, my. Officer Stone… we meet again.” She had a Polish accent. Axel smiled. “It’s Detective Stone now. I followed you here from the Consulate.” Nora frowned. “You followed me?” “I’ll be honest with you,” Axel said. “We were tipped off about your location by Villem Antonio. The man has given us a lot of useful information about Blue Swan’s operations and its people across California. When your name came up, I couldn’t resist checking you out.” “Mmhm. So is this a bust?” Axel shook his head. “No, no, it’s not a bust. You haven’t been implemented in any particular crime yourself. In fact, from what Antonio tells me, you wouldn’t willingly participate in any kind of serious crime at all. I think Blue Swan coerced you into working for them against your will. Am I right?” She didn’t say anything, only lowered her gaze. “I just wanted to apologise for frightening you that first night,” Axel continued. Nora licked her lips, still somewhat bemused by this encounter. “I wasn’t scared, detective. Just surprised.” Axel nodded. “I also wanted to thank you…” “Thank me for what?” Axel didn’t answer directly. He just gave her a sly smile. “You don’t like your boss much, do you?” She turned her attention to her groceries. “There are a lot of things I don’t like about my boss, detective, and Blue Swan. But I happen to like my job very much.” She moved to the next produce bin. Axel moved with her. “You can call me Axel,” he told her. “Sorry, I didn’t get your first name…” “Cassy.” Axel nodded thoughtfully. He pointed to her shopping basket. “Dinner?” “Yes,” she said. “Shop a day at a time, huh?” “That’s right. No point shopping for the entire week.” “Why not?” Nora smiled. She could see where this was going, and decided to play along. “I never know what I’ll be hungry for from one day to the next.”

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Axel took the basket from her hand. His expression was intense. He wasn’t being charming or flirtatious, just direct. “Cassy, have dinner with me,” he blurted. Nora was intrigued by him, but made no reply. “I have an apartment in Panorama City,” he said. “It’s not much, but it’s comfortable. I’ll even make the dinner. I’m a gourmet cook, you know.” “Mmhm. Where’s your partner?” “Adam? Oh, he has a date with his girlfriend Jodie.” “So you thought you’d try your luck with me? Wow. Isn’t this fraternising with the enemy? Not very professional of you, Axel.” She smiled. He smiled back. “I never was much of a guy for following rules.”

***

Axel led Nora into his apartment building through the side entrance, a sliding glass door. During the short walk down the corridor to the front door of his apartment, number 12, he silently asked himself what the hell he was doing. That lonely bug again… He wasn’t sure what Adam or the captain would think if they knew what he was doing here, but once again, he was feeling that restlessness in his gut – an uncontrollable urge he couldn’t taper. When they got to the apartment, the expression on Nora’s face acknowledged the disparity between her expectations and what she now saw. “You must be an honest cop, Axel Stone,” she said. “Disappointed?” he asked. “Not in you.” “It’s everything I said. But hey, check out the view at this time of day.” She looked out the window at a beautiful sunset. The sky was a fiery shade of orange. “It’s beautiful,” she remarked. During this, Axel had placed his hand on her shoulder. She turned, tilted her head up toward him and gave him a knowing smile. “This is a seduction, isn’t it?” “What do you mean?” Axel asked innocently. “Why do you say that?” “You’re trying to sweep me off my feet…” “Maybe.” “Make my head spin…” “Yeah.” “Wrap me around your finger…” “Okay.” She smirked. “I’m not stupid, you know.” “Not a bit.” “I know what’s going on here,” she said. “You can’t use me to get to HakuOh. He’s hiding behind his diplomatic credentials. Mr. Hawk affords him legal protection through a contact he has in the Senate. But you think I can help you in some way, right?” Axel shrugged. “Uh-huh.” “Well… maybe I can. And maybe I will. We can talk about that later.” “Later?”

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“Yes. Afterwards.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately on the mouth. Axel responded, sliding his hands up her back. Nora broke off the kiss, pushed away from him and pulled closed the curtains on the windows. “You’re not really a gourmet cook, are you?” she asked. Axel grinned. “Sure I am. Says so right on the frozen food container.” She began to unbutton her dress, then moved toward him, her bra loose and opened, falling off her shoulders. A tremendous flash of desire went through her body. Axel slid his hands under her and pulled her into the empty bedroom. “Call me Queen,” she breathed, and her legs went weak as the door closed behind them. She felt Axel’s mouth on hers, then felt his warm hand between her legs, ripping aside her satin panties to caress her vulva. She put her arms around his neck and hung there as he opened his jeans. Then he placed both hands beneath her bare buttocks and lifted her. She gave a little hop in the air so that both her legs were wrapped around his upper thighs. His tongue was in her mouth and she sucked on it. He gave a savage thrust that banged her head against the door. She felt something burning pass between her thighs. She let her right hand drop from his neck and reached down to guide him, her hand closing around him, pointing him into her wet, turgid flesh. The thrust of him entering her, the unbelievable pleasure made her gasp, brought her legs up around his neck, and then like a quiver, her body received the savage arrows of his lightning-like thrusts; innumerable, torturing; arching her pelvis higher and higher until she reached a shattering climax, felt his hardness break and then the crawly flood of semen over her thighs. Slowly her legs relaxed around his body, slid down until they collapsed on to the bed. They leaned against each other, out of breath. Outside, four hitmen carrying automatic weapons moved through the gathering dark. They ran from an unmarked van toward the street corner opposite the apartment building, totally focused on the mission at hand. Slowly, they approached the window to Axel’s bedroom and formed a line parallel to it, then held their weapons in position. In the bedroom, Axel was kissing Nora, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Suddenly, the moment was shattered by an eruption of automatic gunfire. The window exploded, blowing a thousand sharp projectiles through the room. Axel pulled Nora to the floor. “Down!” Both of them were naked. Axel grabbed his jeans and wiggled into them. Nora clutched her dress. Machine gun fire tore through the curtains and spat against the walls. The noise was deafening… walls chewed into splinters, windows disintegrating like burst soap bubbles. Electrical appliances pulverised. Everything being destroyed; consumed in a hail of weapons fire. “Shit!” Axel cursed. The assault seemed never ending. The bedroom was literally being torn and shredded apart. The door frame began to collapse as the sides buckled and bent under the punishing attack. Axel and Nora had managed to flatten themselves against the floor. Automatic fire whizzed only inches above their heads. “Friends of yours?” Axel shouted. She didn’t answer.

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His hand reached up for his Beretta and shoulder holster. Grabbed it. Pulled it towards him. Then, he began to move across the floor on his stomach, pulling Nora with him… inching their way toward the crumbling doorway. They reached the darkness of the living room and scrambled through it, desperate to escape. Suddenly, out the corner of his eye, Axel saw something moving in the shadows. He turned, aiming his pistol, bringing it up in a firing position, but it was too late. Nora yelped in surprise as the butt end of a machine gun smacked them both in the face, hard, and everything went blank.

Some hours later…

A large hand swept up the beer can and shook it hard. Shoved it under the nose of Leo ‘Busta’ Lopez, then snapped the tab. Beer exploded out of the can, spraying up Busta’s nose with great force. Busta reared his head back in distress, choking, spitting and gagging. He gasped for air, beer pouring from his nose and mouth. He was almost drowning on the suds. Standing over him was the sinister-looking figure of Haku-Oh. “Where’s the money, Busta?” he was saying. “How much did you take? We want it back, Busta! Where is it?” Busta was taped to a plastic chair. He didn’t answer, blowing beer out of his nose and trying desperately to clear his throat. Haku-Oh grabbed another beer and shook it up. It was a crude but effective method of torture. “What’s the deal, Busta?” Haku-Oh asked. “You’ll talk to the Feds but not to us? That’s not fair. That hurts my feelings!” He shoved the second beer under Busta’s nose. Busta tried to turn his head away, but a punk named Garcia forced it back around. Haku-Oh popped the tab with the same results as before. Busta choked, spat, and nearly died. Seated next to him was Axel Stone – also taped to a chair, but with his mouth taped shut as well. Axel was screaming in anger behind the tape. Haku-Oh ripped it off. “You got something to say, detective?” “You bastard!” Axel roared. “You’re dead! You’re dead!” Haku-Oh snorted. “No, Stone. You’re the one who’s dead.” “You killed my father, you son of a bitch! You killed him over some lousy disagreement about money! You fucking stabbed him and set fire to the place!” “Yeah,” Haku-Oh said. “I did, Axel. I killed him. So what? I enjoyed it. It was fun. Locke Stone, the great martial artist…” he chuckled to himself, finding this whole situation highly amusing. Axel spat in Haku-Oh’s face. Outraged, Haku-Oh slapped Axel hard with the back of his hand. “All right, you little shit. Now listen carefully, because I’m gonna tell you something that’s gonna blow your fucking mind! I hope you’re ready for this, because this is gonna make you come unglued!” Axel braced himself. “Two years ago,” the man continued, “just as you were finishing your police training at the Academy, there was a contract out on you and I handled it. That’s right. I ran your fucking car off the road. Only you weren’t in it! Imagine my surprise when

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I pulled this matted mop of blood-soaked hair and saw a woman’s face. She didn’t die right away, either. She took a while…” “Liar!” Axel roared. Haku-Oh was right. Axel was coming unglued. His face was flushed, the veins in his neck were almost popping out. He struggled against the tape that held him down. “Where the hell were you, Axel?” Haku-Oh mocked. “You were supposed to be driving that car, not your damned mother!” “You fucking lying son of a bitch!” Axel roared, blinking through tears. “The fun part was,” Haku-Oh said, “by killing her, we killed you too. Because after that, you crawled into a bottle and died.” “Not for long. I came back. Where’s Nora?” Haku-Oh smirked. “My secretary? Your new lover?” He laughed heartily. “I’m afraid I had to let her go. She’ll be sleeping with the fishes by now, I can imagine.” “Bastard!” “I’ll tell you something else, detective,” Haku-Oh breathed, moving his face closer to Axel’s. “This is gonna be the worst night of your life.”

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13

Somewhere off the Pacific coast

It was midnight. A fishing boat bobbed in the water. Axel Stone was on deck, wearing a vest made of metal chain with lead weights attached to it. He was cold, exhausted, and in a lot of pain. Two large thugs wrestled him to the boat’s gunwale. Axel struggled and kicked, but he was too tired to put up much of a fight. The men pounded him a few times in the face with their fists, grunting with pleasure as they did so. “Any last words?” one of them asked. His name was Altet. Axel coughed and spat blood through his now swollen lips. “You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent.” “Smart mouth, huh?” Altet clobbered him in the face some more, then picked him up and dumped him over the side. Axel hit the water with a splash, and the weighted vest began to pull him straight down, fifteen feet, to a sand bar below. The water was cold and impossibly dark, so much that he could barely see anything around him. He hit the bottom, raising a murky cloud of sand in the water. As he struggled against the weighted vest, he could see a group of objects nearby swaying lazily in the current. Up in the boat, Altet angled a searchlight down toward the rippling water. “Let’s give him a show,” he spat. Underwater, Axel suddenly found everything around him flooded with light, and he got the shock of his life. Jesus Christ! The group of ‘objects’ he had spotted moments before were corpses! And he was right in the middle of them. There had to be forty or fifty at least. All of them were in various stages of decomposition and wrapped in similar chains to his own, rolling and shifting with the ocean current. Axel stared in absolute horror at the dead, fish-eaten faces, the clothes rotting away in tatters – some little more than skeletons. Except one… Nora! Still beautiful, even in death, her naked body white as marble. Axel couldn’t believe his eyes. Horror and pain filled his expression, and now he was fighting back harder than ever. I will not die here, he told himself. Not like this… Above water, in the boat, the two thugs were peering into the water, watching the turbulence below, the signs of struggle. “How long, Mc-K?” Altet whispered. The second thug, Mc-K, looked at the digital stopwatch on his wrist. “Minute ten. And still kickin’!” Meanwhile, Axel thrashed desperately against the chain vest, pulling it tight across his back. Something cracked. He made a silent scream of agony as the chains slipped and loosened. Now he was running low on oxygen. If he didn’t move quickly, he was going to drown and his efforts would amount to nothing. He shook the vest

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away, then made a determined kick, ploughing toward the water’s surface with all the strength he had left. Mc-K and Altet were still looking over the port side of the boat when Axel exploded out of the water on the starboard side. He leapt into the boat like a mad demon, one arm hanging limp. The punks turned in startled surprise, but didn’t have a chance. Axel was upon them before they knew it – and with a rage born of his hatred for Blue Swan, the death of his father, his mother, and now Nora – he killed them both virtually instantly – twisting the neck of one and snapping the other’s backbone over his knee in one swift combo, roaring as he did so. And then, he released a primal scream of anguish and pain as he jammed his shoulder back into its socket by slamming it against the wheel-house wall. After dumping the bodies of the dead thugs over the side of the boat, Axel took a moment to recover his breath. He cried out in agony, tears streaming down his face. He would stay like that for almost three hours, crippled by pain and remorse. By the time he decided to get moving, the sun was already creeping up on the horizon.

*** March 29th 3:12pm

Adam Hunter was not having a good day. In the space of twenty-four hours, everything that could have gone wrong had, and things were looking increasingly bleak for him and the case. Axel had disappeared; his apartment building had been violently attacked by gunmen the night before and he was nowhere to be found. A CSU team had even swept the apartment for clues, but nothing had come up as significant. Axel wasn’t answering his cell phone either, or his emails, so Adam had to assume the worst – that he’d been kidnapped or murdered by Blue Swan. Either way, the pressure was really on now to track down Blue Swan’s leaders and bring them to justice before any more lives were lost. To make matters worse, Leo ‘Busta’ Lopez had also gone missing from the LAPD’s Central Division, right from under the nose of Police Chief William O’Hara himself. Busta was a guy the LAPD had sworn to protect – he was a key witness for the prosecution when the Blue Swan case eventually went to trial – and losing him now was not only detrimental to the case, but it demonstrated some serious flaws in the department’s operational abilities. It was an embarrassment, and the Feds were demanding an explanation. Chief O’Hara was holding them off for now pending an investigation, but Adam knew that nobody had any idea how Busta had disappeared from custody. There were more than forty cops working the Central building at any one time, and O’Hara himself was there more often than not. So how could this happen? Adam knew that Blue Swan’s leader, Lucius Hawk, was a cop – a rogue cop, but surely somebody would have noticed if he’d just turned up at Central and started

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relieving them of protected witnesses? No, something else had been a factor, and the only explanation in Adam’s mind was that there was some kind of corruption going on in the LAPD that extended beyond Hawk’s desertion. Could Chief O’Hara himself be involved? Was he corrupt? Adam shook off the notion, refusing to believe it. If that were true, it would mean that the entire police force was in the pocket of the criminals, and that would spell disaster for the city. Whatever the explanation, he’d find it eventually. It would only be a matter of time. With all this happening and Axel missing, Detectives Bellamy, Kavanagh and Mason had been pressurising Captain Wyndam to turn the Blue Swan case back over to them, claiming that Adam Hunter lacked the skill and experience to deal with this on his own. Adam had protested, of course, and Wyndam had agreed to keep him on the case for now, but warned that if things didn’t improve soon or if Axel turned up dead, he would have no choice but to reassign Adam someplace else. Naturally, Adam was pissed off about this. He drove a police cruiser down the freeway towards La Habra, his music loud, heading home. He had the window rolled down all the way, allowing the warm afternoon breeze to caress his face, choosing to breathe fresh air rather than taste the recycled, stale shit pumped through the car’s air-con system. If anything, the whole situation was making him feel nauseous. There was, of course, plenty of information and leads still to follow. After their successful raid on the Terminal Island drugs factory, Villem Antonio had given them details on all sorts of things: names, addresses, businesses, nightclubs – all with ties to Blue Swan. Not to mention the fact that Donovan had provided them with the location of Lucius Hawk’s alleged ‘secret’ personal hideout in the Mojave Desert. But until Axel was found, he was essentially powerless to follow any of it up. As he pulled off the main road and swung the car into the driveway of his house, 1717 El Travesia Drive, Adam spotted Jodie Kelly waiting for him by the front door, waving at him as he approached. Seeing her face was a welcome ray of sunshine in an otherwise dull and depressing day. He switched off the engine, got out of the car, and she went to kiss him. “Welcome home,” she said. Adam returned the kiss. “Thanks, angel. I feel a lot better for seeing you.” “Bad day?” “About as bad as it gets. I’ll explain when we get inside. I need to sit down.” ***

That evening, Jodie had cooked a delicious meal of roasted monk fish wrapped in smoked bacon with lemon mayonnaise and asparagus, served with steaming hot new potatoes. Adam had to admit, her culinary skills were top notch, and as he tucked in, he gave her the thumbs up. “You like it, then?” Jodie smiled. Adam nodded. “It’s real tasty. I love those crispy and soft, flaky textures together. Wonderful.” She giggled. “Good. I’m glad. You looked in need of a nice, hearty meal.” He finished his plate and set down his cutlery, appreciative of Jodie’s efforts. Without her, it would have been takeout pizza again or a TV dinner – something quick and easy, certainly nothing this healthy. “You’re right,” he said. “I needed that.”

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Jodie was just putting her last mouthful of food away when they heard a sudden loud knocking on the front door. “Who could that be?” she asked, glancing at the wall clock. It was just after 9pm. They weren’t expecting any visitors. Adam didn’t answer. He leapt up from his chair and raced to the door, hoping against hope that it was who he thought it was. He fumbled with the catch, pulled open the door, and there, sure enough, was Axel Stone. His face was bruised and swollen, and his jeans were torn and damp. He looked like a train wreck. “Jesus, Axel!” Adam said. “Where the hell have you been?” He helped his friend over the threshold, and called for Jodie to fetch some blankets. Axel was shivering, pale, and mumbling incoherent sentences. Clearly, he had been through a traumatic ordeal. The questions would have to wait. Jodie brought a couple of wool blankets and hastily wrapped one around Axel. They helped him to one of the sofas in the living room and he collapsed into it. Adam put a glass of water to his mouth and he drank, gulping back the contents like no tomorrow. When he was done, Axel grabbed Adam’s shoulder, looked him in the eyes and said, “That’s it. We have to end this. We have to track down Lucius Hawk. Now it’s more than personal…” He was panting and barely able to get the words out. Adam took a deep breath. Whatever had happened to Axel, it must have seriously affected him. “Don’t worry, buddy. I’m in the mood to spoil that bastard’s plans too.” “Tomorrow,” Axel said. “We end this tomorrow.” Before Adam could respond, Axel was snoring – already in the midst of a deep sleep.

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14

Mojave Desert March 30th 06:15am

The full moon was still in the morning sky, casting a pale blue luminance across the vast, open stretch of plain and making it seem even colder than it was. And that’s pretty goddamn cold, Adam thought, shivering in spite of the police van’s blasting heater. Even with Axel moving around in the back, checking their weapons and loading ammunition, they didn’t seem to be generating nearly enough heat to ward off the icy air that seeped in through the thin metal shell. Not that it mattered too much – as soon as that sun came up, this desert would probably reach ninety degrees by as early as eight o’clock, and it would only get hotter from there. Best make the most of the cold while they still could. Adam was driving, taking his eyes off the road every now and then to check their position on a GPS. If Donovan’s coordinates were correct, they’d be getting close. Despite Axel’s injuries, the man had insisted he was fine to go ahead with this operation; he seemed to have plenty of energy now that he was rested, and Adam knew that there was a fierce resolve spurring him on. Though Axel hadn’t spoken much about what had happened to him over the past couple of days, from what Adam had gathered it had shaken him to his very core, to his soul. He wanted Lucius Hawk and Haku-Oh dead, that much was certain, and he was willing to push his body to its absolute limits to achieve that goal. Adam looked out at the pale landscape passing by the dirt track, the seemingly endless miles of nothing beneath the wide open sky, and shivered again. It was a barren, forsaken place, the road they were on scarcely more than a dirt track leading in from nowhere; a perfect setting for Hawk’s ‘secret’ hideout. Their plan was relatively straightforward. Park the van a half mile from Donovan’s coordinates, load up with weapons, and slip into the place on foot as quickly and quietly as they could manage… before blowing the enemy to hell, rescuing Busta on the way. Everybody lives happily ever after. On paper it sounded easy enough. Now, though, driving through an endless, freezing waste and trying to get psyched up for a confrontation – now it didn’t seem so simple. It was a scary prospect, going into a place neither of them had ever been before and trying to kill some of the most elusive criminals the west coast had ever seen… On the plus side, they were going in well armed; it seemed that they had learned something about dealing with organised criminals after their experience with the SWAT team – that taking in a shitload of firepower was a very good idea. In addition to the nine-millimetre handguns and multiple clips that each of them would carry, they had M-16 automatic rifles and a half-dozen fragmentation hand grenades. Just in case, Axel had said.

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“Slow down,” said Axel from the back, his voice stilling Adam’s thoughts. Adam let up on the gas, and the van slowed to a crawl. “It looks like it’s about a halfmile southeast from our current position.” Adam took a deep breath, saw Axel pick up one of the rifles, and brought the van to a stop. It was time. Axel opened the side door and the air was ice, dry and bitterly cold. “Hope they got the coffee on,” Axel breathed jokingly, and hopped out into the darkness, reaching back in to grab his pack. He was being remarkably chipper for a guy who had been fighting for his life less than twelve hours earlier. Adam loaded up a few medical supplies, and as he climbed out, Axel put his hand on his shoulder. “You up for this?” he asked. Adam nodded. “I’m with you, buddy. Let’s do this.” Axel took the lead as they struck out for where Donovan said the hidden base would be. It wasn’t easy; they were going in cold with very little planning, no idea what Lucius Hawk looked like or what kind of security measures they’d be facing – “I think veer left a few degrees,” Adam said from behind him, startling him, bringing his focus back around. He’d barely spoken above a whisper, but the night was so cold and crisp, the air so perfectly still that every step taken, every breath exhaled seemed to fill the world. Axel led them through the darkness, wishing he could use a flashlight. Even dressed all in black, he was worried they’d be spotted before they could get inside – whatever that meant exactly; Donovan had given them no idea of what the facility would look like, other than the vague-looking and blurry photographs he’d taken. In any case, with just a full moon to light their way they wouldn’t see it until they were right on top… “There!” Axel whispered, and pointed. Just ahead, they saw the outcropping of rock from the photographs, and beyond, a metal door set into the rock wall. Axel grinned. It was time for Mr. Hawk’s wakeup call.

***

To reach the hidden doorway, Axel and Adam were forced to climb over thirty feet of mountainous rock to a ledge only six feet wide. When they finally reached it they stopped for a moment on the ledge, catching their breath. Blue Swan had obviously gone to great lengths to ensure nobody found this place. The narrow metal door was very cleverly camouflaged: skilfully painted like the rock around it, only really visible to the naked eye when light reflected from its surface at a particular angle. The only thing that really gave it away was the radio antenna perched on a ledge just above, the base’s only apparent link to the outside world. “Ready when you are, Ax,” Adam said. Axel nodded and pushed the door open. It wasn’t locked. He hunched over and stepped into a low cave entrance, and when he straightened up a few steps later, he saw that he was inside a large, open room, the walls and ceiling organic but the floor carefully levelled. Adam followed cautiously, one hand touching the barrel of his firearm, ready for anything.

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There was light coming from somewhere up ahead, and Axel started for it, keeping his fingers crossed that they weren’t about to walk into a trap. They rounded a corner, and came to a large set of double doors with two electric lamps burning overhead. Each of the two doors was emblazoned with the Blue Swan emblem, the same image seen in the tattoos of its members. Axel took a deep breath, and opened the door. Adam was close behind him. On the other side, Axel couldn’t help but gasp. It was like some bizarre reality twist, he decided, closing the double doors behind them. From the foreboding, cold darkness of the cave, to where they stood now… it was hard to believe, such a contrast, and yet unsurprising of Blue Swan. Trust such a secretive organisation to be capable of this. But goddamn. I mean, seriously. A grand, beautifully designed sunken lobby spread out in front of them, dominated by an exquisitely-crafted staircase below a large chandelier. There were marble statues lining the red carpeted floor, in Roman costume, set in a tribune lined with exotic tapestries. The room was octagonal in shape, with a barrel-vaulted ceiling reaching twenty feet over their heads, cast in fantastic stained glass. Oh, wow. This is… wow, Adam thought. “Wow,” Axel whispered, and Adam nodded, feeling entirely out of his depth as he took in their new environment. It was like a private penthouse in overdrive. “And I was expecting a concrete bunker, at most,” Adam muttered. Suddenly, a barrage of automatic gunfire spat at them, and Axel pulled Adam to the floor, narrowly avoiding a gruesome, bullet-riddled death. “Get down!” he yelled. A group of dark-suited figures had emerged from a door at the far end of the chamber, and were now opening fire at them with no regard for the expensive décor. Axel and Adam both drew their weapons and returned fire, using one of the marble statues as cover. Axel glanced at Adam with a look of concern. “I’m okay!” Adam called out between rounds, and Axel stepped aside, shouting for him to take the right flank. Adam targeted and fired, blinking and squinting against the intense noise, trying to get head shots. He took down three of them, then a fourth, one of them so close that he felt blood splashing his hand. “There’s more coming!” Axel shouted. “Reload!” He ducked behind the staircase and threw his empty pistol on the ground. Then he pulled the M16 from his back and racked the action. For you, dad… He roared, and threw himself into the fray, squeezing the trigger, cutting Blue Swan’s goons down like a man possessed.

***

Alone, Lucius Hawk saw on the Victorian Oak chair in his private chambers, half blind with rage. His home had been damaged – his home! It had been built at great expense by his father, God rest his soul… and now, in the blink of an eye, some annoying group of police officers had dared to try and destroy it – no doubt intending to kill him too. From the images on the security cameras he’d seen, most of the

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architecture in the grand hallway had been warped and twisted by gunfire, doors shredded, only the regal staircase left whole. Uncouth, uncultured miscreants. They can’t even fathom the measure of their own ignorance. He’d watched it all kick off from the safety of his private monitor room, each tiny screen telling a different story of police brutality and pathetic incompetence on the part of his own staff. Almost everyone had died, and the rest had run like frightened rabbits. Garcia had been the only survivor from the grand hallway, but he’d screamed so much from pain that Haku-Oh had been forced to shoot him. Hawk clenched his fists, frustrated, his entire body a live wire of furious tension. Then he was suddenly aware of Haku-Oh’s presence behind him. He’d been so intent on his emotional chaos that he hadn’t even heard the man approach. “You mustn’t let yourself despair, sir,” Haku-Oh said. “We will prevail; we always have.” An absolute hatred for these two meddling police officers was growing inside Hawk, for the stain of weakness that they had tried to paint upon him. “Twenty years,” Hawk muttered, and turned to look at Haku-Oh. “For twenty years we have managed to keep this organisation a total secret. For twenty years this facility had gone unnoticed to prying eyes. Now, in the space of days… thanks to the bungling incompetence of the staff I thought I could rely on…” he shook his head. Haku-Oh took a deep breath. “I will teach them regret, sir. They will not forget the lesson.” Hawk watched him walk to the doorway. “Do not fail me,” he said. Haku-Oh bowed silently, and went to meet the intruders.

***

Busta’s head hurt. He’d been half-dreaming, remembering things, until the faraway sound of gunfire crowded through the dark, pulling him closer to wakefulness. He’d dreamed about the insanity that had become his life over the past few months, and even though an almost conscious part of him knew it was reality, it still seemed too incredible to be true. Gunfire again, louder, and he realised that something was wrong. The trouble was, he had no real idea of where he was; when Haku-Oh had failed to extract any information from him, he’d been taken away with a hood pulled over his face. A helicopter ride. Down some stairs. Strapped to another chair… The ground seemed to be shaking, rumbling, as if a hand grenade had been set off somewhere. He opened his eyes just in time to see one of the overhead lights go out, the thick metal bars of his cell suddenly imprinted in negative and floating off to the left in the pitch dark. He realised with a start that the chair he was tied to had been blown onto its side by an incendiary blast, and half his face was pressed against the clammy, dirty floor. After another moment, it occurred to him that the door to his cell had been blown open. Somebody was lifting the chair back up in the darkness, gently removing the tape from his mouth. “Hi Busta,” Axel Stone said. “Detectives!” he blurted. “God, am I glad to see you! I didn’t know what was going on! Sounded like somebody was pulling the house down.”

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Adam smirked. “Somebody was. Come on, let’s get you out of here.” He pulled off the tape from Busta’s ankles and wrists. Busta stood up, and wriggled his fingers to bring back the circulation. “What about Haku-Oh?” he asked. “You after him next?” “Do you really have to ask?” Axel said, his eyebrows raised. “Then you better hurry,” Busta told them. “He was down here with Mr. Hawk a few hours ago. I heard them talking. He’s leaving the country, today. Something about a meeting with a crime lord. Something about a syndicate…” Axel just smiled and shook his head. “Don’t worry, Busta. We’ll get to ‘em first.”

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15

Axel and Adam took an elevator up four levels to the very top of the facility. To their surprise, there was very little in the way of security on this floor, in fact there wasn’t any at all – the long, silent corridor was totally deserted. They followed the statue-lined corridor around a corner, and Axel noted the one-way, tinted glass windows spaced every ten feet or so along the way. The morning sun was rising outside, and beautiful orange-yellow rays beamed down through the glass, seeming to intensify with every passing moment. Up ahead, a tall wooden door opened, and from it Haku-Oh emerged, unarmed, walking straight towards them with a stony look on his face. Adam raised his weapon to fire, but Axel stopped him, pushing the barrel of the weapon down with his right palm. “Don’t shoot,” he whispered. “This guy is mine.” Haku-Oh was shaking his head as he approached. “Detective Stone,” he said, “I never expected to see you again.” Axel gritted his teeth. “I’m like a bad penny. I always turn up.” “It doesn’t surprise me, actually, that my men failed to kill you,” Haku-Oh sneered. “Failure seems to be a recurring theme in the Blue Swan ranks as of late – a situation I intend to rectify, starting here.” Axel’s blood was boiling. He tossed aside his weapon without bothering to look. “My name is Axel Tyler Stone,” he said, taking another step toward Haku-Oh, looking him directly in the eyes, a fierce look on his face. “You killed my father. Prepare to die.” “Bring it on,” Haku-Oh spat. Axel charged toward him, roaring, fuelled by all the negative emotions which had built up inside him over the course of his life – since that fateful day more than ten years earlier. Images of his father, his mother, and Nora flashed through his mind, driving him on, until all he could think about was revenge. And he drove into HakuOh’s body with his fists, a sum of all the rage and hatred; if Axel’s chest had been a cannon he would have shot his heart upon his enemy, hurling everything he had into the fight. Haku-Oh was devilishly fast – dodging, parrying and blocking Axel’s moves. He was a highly skilled fighter, a match even for Axel’s abilities as a ninth-degree black belt in karate and kajukenbo. It was like he were toying with Axel, rather than fighting with him. “If you think for a second that being a good martial artist will help you,” he said, a small smirk on his face, “you’re gravely mistaken, Axel.” “You’re the one who’s gravely mistaken, you murdering piece of shit!” Axel roared. He threw a right roundhouse kick towards Haku-Oh’s face, but to his frustration, the man was able to avoid the kick at the last second. Haku-Oh countered by landing a powerful punch to Axel’s lower abdomen, knocking the wind out of him. Axel tasted blood in his mouth, shocked at the raw power of Haku-Oh’s moves. “Axel…” Adam started, and stepped forward, but Axel waved him back. “No, Adam. This is my fight…”

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Taking advantage of the moment of distraction, Haku-Oh threw another hard punch at Axel’s face, knocking him clean off his feet. Axel crashed to the floor, groaning in agony. As Axel lay on his back, he clenched his teeth, seething with anger. He got to his feet and wiped the blood dripping from his lower lip. Haku-Oh laughed. “I killed Locke. And now I will kill you. What makes you think you can defeat me? My fighting strength is supreme!” Axel assumed a Sagiashi-dachi stance, standing on his left leg while raising his right and bending it slightly toward his knee. He shifted his weight low, preparing to strike. “No man is invincible,” he said, remembering the lessons taught to him by his father years ago. “No matter how strong they may seem.” “You’re as stubborn as your father, I’ll give you that,” Haku-Oh said. “If you give up now, I might spare the life of Detective Hunter…” “Leave Adam out of this,” Axel said. “This is between you… and me.” “Very well. If you want me to beat you to the ground again, then so be it. Your stupidity has sealed your fate, and that of your friend.” “I don’t think so, asshole!” Axel yelled, and threw another strong wave of punches and kicks against him, hoping to make a hit from his considerable effort. Impossibly, Haku-Oh was able to block and evade the constant blows that came from Axel’s renewed assault, then wasted no time in retaliating by unleashing his own harsh wave of attacks. Adam watched helplessly, squeezing his fists. He wanted to join in and help Axel defeat this son of a bitch. If they worked together, he was sure they could defeat Haku-Oh fairly quickly. But Axel was right – this was his fight; he’d been waiting for over a decade for the chance to avenge his father’s death… Haku-Oh threw an ill-timed right hook toward Axel, and for the first time Axel gained the upper hand. He ducked and avoided the attack at the last second, turning around and throwing a vertical kick toward Haku-Oh’s face. It connected and Haku-Oh stumbled back, cursing, feeling the strength of Axel’s resolve. Axel threw himself at the man, unleashing a Dragon Smash combo – a constant barrage of quick punches at the face. He was determined to wear down Haku-Oh’s endurance, and as the man seemed to wince in pain, Axel threw a powerful right kick to his chest. Something cracked, and the evil man crashed into the wall. “Impossible,” Haku-Oh spat. “Your skills are almost on par with your own father’s before he died. You not only excel in beauty, but also in battle.” He got to his feet, a ruthless smile on his face. The man was being sarcastic, mocking the fact that Axel’s face was covered in cuts, bruises and scars. He had a black eye, a swollen lip, and one of his ears was red with blood. “I’m not the weak little boy you take me for,” he said. “That remains to be seen.” Axel yelled with exertion and jumped in the air, bringing a flying kick toward Haku-Oh’s face, but before the move could connect, Haku-Oh used his quick speed to grab Axel’s foot and twist it. Axel made a groan of pain and fell onto his back, memories of his broken ankle searing through his mind. Haku-Oh stepped closer and used his left hand to violently lift Axel to his feet by his blonde hair. Tears formed in Axel’s eyes from the sensation, unable to break free from the man’s tough grip. Haku-Oh threw his right fist into Axel’s stomach, then again, and again. He had a relentless, emotionless look on his face as he pummelled Axel, causing agonising internal injuries.

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As Axel coughed up blood, Haku-Oh made a ruthless and sinister smile. But Axel wasn’t finished and he threw his face forward, cracking his forehead hard against Haku-Oh’s nose. Haku-Oh cursed and relinquished his grip. “I’ll crush you like a bug!” he roared, wiping the fresh blood that poured from his broken nose. Axel didn’t speak. He charged toward his opponent, focusing his anger, then used his right arm to send a thundering uppercut across the man’s chest, ending with a solid hit below his jaw. Blood sprayed as he executed the move. “Graaaaaand Upper!” Haku-Oh collapsed to the floor, surprised and shocked by the ferocity of the attack. He tried to get to his feet, but slipped in his own blood, crashing back down. “Locke Stone’s signature move,” he croaked. Axel felt a flutter of excitement in his stomach as he watched the downed man suffer. “That’s right,” he said. “And this is where you pay for what you’ve done to my family, to me.” He lifted his right foot, then sent it down, hard, into Haku-Oh’s face, screaming with all his primal anger. He didn’t stop, pummelling the man’s face repeatedly with the sole of his shoe until it was a bloody pulp. Adam averted his eyes, unable to watch the gruesome scene. Haku-Oh’s skull was smashed under the intense violence of Axel’s assault. His terrified scream trailed off into a liquid gurgle, then stopped. When Axel’s strength had finally left him, he collapsed to his knees, sobbing. Adam took a deep breath, nodding, close to tears himself. So Axel had finally avenged his father’s death. It would no doubt take a while for him to recover from this whole series of events, but given time, and the proper counselling, he would grow stronger from it, Adam was sure. Axel was crying hysterically now. Instead of deriving pleasure from HakuOh’s death, he felt a sudden emptiness, followed by intense despair and sadness. “I killed him for you, dad,” he screamed into the air. His face fell. “So why do I feel so bad?” Adam swallowed dryly, and went to comfort his friend, helping him to his feet. “Revenge is a difficult thing to live with, Axel,” he said. “Killing Haku-Oh was never going to bring your father back.” Axel sniffed, wiping away blood and tears, trying to compose himself. “No. Nothing could bring him back. But this…” he gestured toward Haku-Oh’s remains. “This had to be done. For me, and for Amber.” Adam nodded. He could only imagine the emotional turmoil Axel was experiencing right now. He took a deep breath. “Well, it’s not over yet,” he said. “Come on, let’s keep moving. I’m sure Mr. Hawk is expecting us…”

***

Lucius Hawk was sitting in his chair smoking another of his thin cigars, when Axel Stone and Adam Hunter burst into the room, wielding guns. “Lucius Hawk,” Axel said, aiming his weapon. “You’re under arrest.” Hawk smiled as they approached. Both men had their weapons trained on him, and if he made any false moves, they would shoot without hesitation, he was sure. “Well, you made your way here,” he said, taking a long puff of his cigar. He extinguished it. “You have demonstrated considerable resolve in tracking me down.

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Admirable, really. It would be a waste to kill you. Would you consider becoming my right hand man?” He blew the smoke out thoughtfully. Adam cycled a round into his pistol’s firing chamber, and played his finger over the trigger. “You’re finished, Hawk. Accept it. Come quietly, and we can avoid any more bloodshed…” Hawk’s grin seemed to get wider. He chuckled to himself, and said, “You really want to die, don’t you? I’ll be happy to oblige…” And in a split second he had launched himself from his chair and tackled Adam to the ground, taking him by surprise with his sheer speed. Adam’s gun went off, the shot going wild. Hawk smashed Adam around the face with his fists. He screamed, “I’ll kill you, you interfering morons!” “Shit!” Axel cursed. He couldn’t get a clear shot with his M16; any shots he fired right now would likely hit Adam, and he didn’t want to do that… Hawk rolled to one side and grabbed Adam’s gun, came up to his knees, raised it toward Axel – - and Axel leapt to the ground just as Hawk fired. Without pausing, Hawk followed Axel’s movements in the pistol’s sights, waited until he was still, and then… Blam! He shot Axel somewhere between his right bicep and his shoulder. Blood sprayed. Axel yelped and collapsed to the ground in a heap. “Nooo!” Adam roared, and leapt toward Hawk. He sent his fists crashing into the crime boss’ face, followed by another couple of punches to the gut. Axel spat blood, and got to his feet. He felt like he shouldn’t be alive right now with all the injuries he’d sustained, yet here he was – still fighting. He knew he’d feel like absolute shit later, but right now the adrenaline surging through his system was keeping him going in a narcotic-like blur of berserker rage. Adam had Hawk on the floor, and managed to wrestle the gun from his hands. He sent another punch slamming into the man’s face. Axel went for Adam’s pistol. He aimed it toward Hawk. “Adam!” he shouted. “Get back!” Adam turned, then leapt out of the way. Hawk spat, went to move – - and Axel shot him once in the left leg, once in the right. Hawk screamed, and curled into a foetal position, clutching his legs in agony. “No!” He looked around in desperation, then tried in vain to claw his way toward Axel’s M16, which lay on the floor nearby – but gave up as the muscles in his arms tore under the pressure. He slumped, overcome with pain. “Like I said,” Axel puffed. “You’re under arrest. Blue Swan is finished.” “Maybe so,” Hawk breathed, “but you will never defeat the Syndicate to which I belong.” Adam frowned. “What are you talking about? What Syndicate?” Hawk grinned red. “Didn’t you know? Blue Swan is only a subsidiary group… one of many organised gangs making up the whole, a much larger body known only as the Syndicate. The Syndicate’s influence runs deep… into your own police force, the Mayor’s office, the Justice Department, the Federal government itself. Even the President of the United States… is eating out of the hand of the Syndicate’s Big Boss. I am but a simple man, low down in the Syndicate’s ranks. Though you may defeat me, the Syndicate will remain unchallenged.” Axel’s mind whirled. Was Hawk speaking the truth, or was this some kind of desperate trick?

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“You’re lying,” he said. Hawk laughed. “You can believe that if you want. But mark my words, the Syndicate… is real. If you arrest me now, the Boss will see to it that I walk free from prosecution. His influence knows no bounds.” “I don’t think so,” Adam said, placing cuffs on the man’s hands. “You’ll be spending at least twenty years behind bars for all this. The evidence will speak for itself. No judge or jury in the world is gonna be that lenient, not where Blue Swan is concerned.” “We shall see, detective. We shall see…”

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16

Two weeks later

Axel Stone sat in Los Angeles Criminal Court Number 3 and waited for justice; vengeance on the man who had been responsible for Blue Swan’s actions over the past twenty-five years. The judge, a formidably heavy-featured man named McBride, rolled up the sleeves of his black robe as if to physically chastise Lucius Hawk, who stood before the bench, hands cuffed behind his back. The judge’s face was cold with majestic contempt. But there was something strangely false in all this that Axel Stone sensed but did not yet understand. “You acted like the worst kind of criminal,” the judge said harshly. Yes, yes, thought Axel. Like an animal. He ordered the murder of my father without even a thought for how it would affect my family. The pain it would cause… Not to mention the money laundering, gun smuggling, kidnap, extortion, the dozens of bodies dumped in the sea… Locke Stone’s death, and that of Nora, had been avenged with Haku-Oh back in the desert stronghold, but true justice would be served here, today, in this court… with the conviction of the man behind it all. Lucius Hawk. The judge went on. “The actions of your organisation over the years are appalling, and you are fortunate you did not carry out these crimes yourself, or I’d put you behind bars for a very long time.” The judge paused, his eyes beneath impressively thick brows flickered slyly toward the sallow-faced Axel, then lowered to a stack of probation reports before him. He frowned and shrugged as if convinced against his own natural desire. He spoke again. “But because of your clean record, because of your history as a decorated police lieutenant, because of your fine family, and because the law in its majesty does not seek vengeance, I hereby sentence you to three years’ confinement to the penitentiary. Sentence to be suspended.” Only twelve years of professional mourning kept the overwhelming frustration and hatred from showing on Axel’s face. His father had been murdered, and this bastard walked free? Even after Busta’s damning testimony? It had all been a farce… He watched Villem Antonio and a couple of others cluster around Hawk. Oh, they were all happy now, they were smiling now. Bile, sourly bitter, rose in Axel’s throat. Something was definitely wrong here. Was the whole justice system corrupt, as Hawk had promised them? Was there really a mysterious Syndicate acting behind the scenes, its unseen Boss controlling events like a phantom puppet-master? Hawk strode past with his walking stick, freely up the aisle, still able to walk despite the recent gunshot wounds in his legs. He was confident and cool-eyed, smiling, and he glanced at Axel, a look of triumphant defiance in his eyes. Axel watched him go with gritted teeth. All his years growing up in America, he had trusted in law and order. And he had prospered thereby. Now, his brain smoked with hatred, and through wild visions of grabbing his gun and blasting Hawk right there in the court room, he turned to Adam and Tina and muttered, “They have

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made fools out of us.” He paused and then made his decision, no longer fearing the cost. “For justice, we must track down the Syndicate.”

*** LAPD Central Division Downtown Los Angeles April 17th 09:04am

Police Chief William O’Hara was smiling as he reviewed the reports set out in front of him. As he read through one particular glowing, handwritten account by Captain Jack Wyndam, detailing the hard work and perseverance of his staff during the past few weeks, the two subjects of the report – Axel Stone and Adam Hunter – stepped into his office through the door, looking nervous. “Good morning, detectives,” he said eagerly. “Come in, come in. Take a seat.” Axel and Adam sat down in plastic chairs opposite his large antique desk. They had no real idea why they’d been summoned here – all the way from Valley Bureau on the other side of the city. They’d never met the Chief before personally, so they had no idea why he’d show any sort of interest in them now. They had heard rumours about his short temper – apparently throwing officers in jail when they’d been called to him to be reprimanded. Axel figured they were in some kind of trouble… “Why the long faces, detectives?” O’Hara smiled. “You can relax. You’re not in trouble. In fact, I’ve heard nothing but good things about you…” Adam smiled. “Really?” O’Hara nodded. “I’m very impressed with the way you busted open the Blue Swan gang recently. You showed a high level of skill, professionalism and dedication that we don’t come by too often in this department. Very rarely do I get the chance to meet police officers of your calibre…” Axel grinned. “Thankyou, sir. It just frustrates me that Lucius Hawk got off with a suspended sentence…” O’Hara shrugged. “Yeah. I know what you mean. And the District Attorney agrees with you. But the judge has the final say in these matters – and Judge McBride is one of the most respected judges in Los Angeles…” One of the most corrupt, Axel thought. “Where is Hawk now?” he said aloud. “Last we heard he’d skipped the country,” O’Hara said, frowning. “He was last seen boarding a flight to Panama. I can’t imagine we’ll ever see the guy again. If he does resurface, it’ll be a case for Interpol.” Axel’s expression was grim. “At least we were able to shut down Blue Swan’s operations here on the West Coast.” “Indeed,” O’Hara said. “Which brings me to the reason I summoned you here this morning. I want you both to relocate to Central Division. I want you working for me directly.” Adam couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you serious, Chief?” O’Hara nodded. “Absolutely. You’re both promoted to Sergeant, effective immediately. I want you on my personal staff, tackling some of the more major threats facing this city.”

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Axel raised his eyebrows. He certainly hadn’t been expecting this. “Wow. That’s quite an offer, sir. Yeah. It’ll be an honour to work here at Central with you.” O’Hara was beaming. “Excellent,” he said. “I’ll feel a lot better knowing I have cops like you two under my wing…”

*** Cosmo’s Bar Downtown Los Angeles 8:20pm

Adam, Axel and Tina raised their beer glasses in a toast. “To getting promoted,” Adam said, “and kicking the bad guy’s ass.” They drank. Tina placed her glass down on the table. “Congratulations again, boys. I still can’t believe my big brother is now a police sergeant. This is so awesome. And Central Division station is just around the corner from where I train. You guys will be seeing a lot more of me from now on, you do realise that, right?” She laughed. Axel smiled at her. “I just wish mom and dad were here to see this. They’d be so proud.” Tina returned his smile. “You’re right, Axel. They would be proud of you.” She turned to Adam. “What about your folks? Have you told them yet?” Adam took another swig of his beer and nodded. “Earlier this afternoon. My mom was over the moon, really pleased, and Skate… well, he seemed quite happy. It’s hard to tell with him sometimes.” “Young teenagers,” Axel said, shaking his head. “What’re you gonna do?” They laughed. “It’s nice to meet you again Tina, by the way,” Adam said. “The fact that you drink beer is a huge plus sign for you in my book.” “I never was much of a girly girl,” she said. “I’d take a beer over a glass of wine any day.” She winked at him. “Call me Amber.” Axel took a more serious tone. “It’s just a shame this whole thing is overshadowed – by these rumours of a criminal Syndicate…” “You know, there’s still no real evidence to support what Lucius Hawk told us,” Adam said. “He could still have been lying. It could be a trick.” Axel shook his head. He glanced around absently, checking out a couple of young punks making out with some girls at the bar. “I don’t think so,” he said. “There was something about Hawk’s trial that just didn’t add up. Plus – there’s the question of how Busta went missing from Central that day without anybody noticing. He said somebody crept up behind him and knocked him out cold. How could something like that go unnoticed by forty cops? There’s too many coincidences, too many unanswered questions. I believe that Hawk was right. The corruption must extend further than we realise. We’re going to have to tread very carefully in future if we’re to track down this Syndicate, and break its hold on the city.” Tina gulped her beer. “Sounds like you guys have your work cut out for you.”

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Axel nodded. “That’s the understatement of the century. Tracking down these people won’t happen overnight, sis. It’s gonna be a long process. It could take years…” Adam finished his beer and set down his empty glass. “That’s true. We have no evidence and no leads to work on right now. We’re up against a brick wall. But however long it takes, we’ll track these people down. If they do indeed exist, they’ve clearly become a cancer in the heart of this city, choking it slowly to death – a cancer which must be removed, if peace can ever truly be restored to these streets of rage…”

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EPILOGUE

Three years later April 2nd, 2015

Sergeant Axel Stone was busying himself with paperwork, filing reports and entering data into his desktop computer when the phone rang. He answered it. “Hello?” It was Adam Hunter, his partner. “Axel, you’re not gonna believe this. We finally got ourselves a lead on that mysterious Syndicate we’ve been searching for.” Axel licked his lips, his mind not quite comprehending. “The Syndicate?” he repeated. “We’ve had nothing on them for three years. You’re telling me you actually have something? This better be good, Adam. I have a lot of work to do before I finish up today.” “It’s not much,” Adam admitted, “just an anonymous tip-off. But I’ve been cross-referencing some of the information this guy has provided, and it actually checks out. If it’s genuine, we have our first evidence of Syndicate activity here in LA, and of a possible government conspiracy to cover up their actions.” Axel took a deep breath. It sounded interesting enough. He wanted to believe it. “I’m listening…” “It all concerns a young girl…” “A girl?” “Yeah. Tell me, how much do you know about Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital…?”

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BOOK II

ORIGINS

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Prologue South America, 1996 550 miles from the Pacific shore of Costa Rica

They came from the South, with the morning sun, shimmering like ghosts on a desert mirage, gliding across the sun-sparkled water. The rectangular cotton sails on the flotilla of rafts sagged lifelessly under a placid, azure sky. No commands were spoken as the crews dipped and pulled their paddles in eerie silence. Overhead, a hawk swooped and soared, as if guiding the tribal steersmen towards the volcanic Isla del Coco looming ahead, a mountainous and unspoiled paradise covered with mountains and dense, moist forest. The rafts were constructed of reed bundles bound and turned up at both ends. Six of these bundles made up one hull, which was keeled and beamed with bamboo. The raised prow and stern were shaped like serpents with dog heads, their jaws tilted towards the sky as if baying at the moon. The lord in command of the fleet sat on a throne-like chair perched on the pointed bow of the lead raft. He wore a cotton tunic adorned with turquoise platelets and a wool mantle of multicoloured embroidery. His head was covered with a plumed helmet and a facemask of gold. Ear ornaments, a massive necklace, and arm bracelets also gleamed yellow under the sun. Even his shoes were fashioned from gold. What made the sight even more astonishing was that the crewmembers were adorned no less magnificently. Along the shoreline of Cocos Island, the local native society watched in fear and wonder as the foreign fleet intruded into their own waters. There were no attempts at defending their territory against invaders. They were a simple tribe of hunters who cut themselves off from twentieth century life, who trapped animals, caught fish, and harvested a few seeded plants and nuts. Theirs was an archaic culture, curiously unlike their neighbours on the other Galapagos Islands who built massive temples to a race of shared gods, and now watched in fascination at the display of wealth and power that moved toward them across the water. As one mind they saw the fleet as a miraculous appearance of foreign gods from the spirit world. The mysterious strangers took no notice of the people crowding the shore and continued paddling towards them. They were on an important mission, and ignored all distractions. Soon the lustrously attired crewmen grounded their rafts on the small pebblestrewn beach that opened into the village. They lowered their sails, woven with huge figures of supernatural animals, symbols that added to the hushed fear and reverence of the native onlookers, and began unloading huge axes and daggers onto the beach. They did so in silence, as if the entire operation had been planned.

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Minutes passed before one of the native men approached the strangers on the beach. One of the strangers walked up to meet him, and eyed him up and down, a look of pure disgust on his face. Then, without a word, he bent down, selected the biggest axe he could see, and flung it round in one swift motion, through the native man’s neck, separating the head from the body in a gruesome stream of deep red blood. Quick, but deadly. In reaction to the murder, the entire village turned and ran into the hills. Women screamed in panic, and children cried in fear and confusion, as hundreds of the strange intruders pursued them with all kinds of deadly weapons, all of them chanting the same sentence over and over: “The infidels must die!” The villagers ran, panic stricken, through the village, tripping over pots and fishing tools and other pieces of hunting gear carelessly left on the ground. They passed huts and wells, which were all burned down by the intruders as they passed. Those villagers that lagged behind were captured and had their throats slit. Chaos ran everywhere. The intruders’ apparent leader whistled, and beckoned his men to move around the sides of the huts. Responding to his command, a dozen of his men ran round the burning huts and proceeded out in front of the fleeing people, halting them in their path. A few native men tried to run through but were stopped, tripped up and had their throats slit, and then stabbed up to fifty times in the back. The intruders were laughing insanely, jumping over their victims with perverse glee. Other intruders shot off swarms of arrows from exquisitely crafted crossbows, which rained down upon the women and children. Screams of pain and agony followed, as the arrows shot down through their helpless bodies. Blood stained the grass. The air was filled with the cracking of gunfire as several intruders let loose with modern machine guns, mowing down the crowd of helpless natives. Bullets whizzed through the air overhead, thudding insanely into flailing bodies. The younger, inexperienced intruders were collecting up wooden logs, dipping them into fire, creating torches of flame – using them to burn everything in sight… The intruders showed no mercy, even for the smallest of children. Girls and boys were kicked repeatedly all over, bruising and cutting. They were raped again and again as the intruders laughed and screamed maniacally. Others were strung up and whipped, then left to die in agony. The whole sight was very sick indeed. Children watched in terror as their parents were slaughtered horrifically. Fires raged and blazed around them, burning the place they had once called home. The entire village, in an hour, was completely destroyed, filled with death, ruin and the screams of children in pain. The intruders, as quickly as they had come, sailed off into the ocean blue.

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1 Blaze

A long time had passed since the mysterious invaders left shore. The fires had mostly exhausted, and nearly all of the natives were dead; the few survivors were a badly distraught woman, a fatally beaten girl and a legless man. Slowly they waited to die amongst their dead relatives. Any attempt at rescue now seemed an empty gesture. They lay there, awaiting their inevitable fate. The woman, barely conscious, heard it first. She cupped her hands to her ears and turned back and forth like a radar antenna. “A helicopter!” she announced excitedly, pointing in a westerly direction through the tops of the trees. In an expectant hush the three natives listened. The faint thumping sound of a rotor blade beating the air came towards them, growing louder with each passing moment. A minute later a turquoise helicopter with RESCUE painted on its sides swept into view. Where had it come from? the man wondered, his spirits rising. It didn’t have the markings of the navy. It had to be a civilian craft. The tops of the surrounding trees were whipped into a frenzy as the helicopter began its descent into a small clearing beside the wreckage. The landing skids were still in the air when the fuselage door opened and a tall man with wavy black hair made an agile leap to the ground. He was dressed in casual clothing. Ignoring the woman and little girl, he walked across to the man, and knelt so that he could speak to him. “What happened here?” he said, nodding to someone in the helicopter as it lowered down. The native man said nothing, shaking uncontrollably from the pain thundering through his body. He stared blankly into the stranger’s eyes. The stranger, a warm smile arched across his face, shoved out a callused hand. “My name is John Millen,” he said. The native man looked at Millen’s outstretched hand, but didn’t shake it. Millen winced as he glanced over the native man’s wounds, then looked up suddenly as a shadow was cast over them. It was the little girl. She looked about three years old, and had large brown eyes, filled with tears. Her face was dirty and her brown hair hung over her face. She was badly injured and her clothing was ripped. “B…Blaze,” she said softly. Millen stood up, and smiled down at her. “Don’t worry. It’s all over now. I’m gonna get you to a hospital; you’ll be safe there.” “Blaze,” she said again. Millen stared at her. She was obviously in shock. “What’s your name, kid?” “Blaze.” The girl blinked, then slumped unconsciously to the ground. Millen rushed forward and picked her up, carefully avoiding her wounds with his fingers.

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Stumbling, he looked across to the woman to see if she wanted to take the child into her arms. But the woman lay sprawled across the grass with terrible limpness, her eyes open, her head bloodied, her neck at such an impossible angle that Millen did not need to check to know that she was dead. Millen looked down at the child in his arms, and carried her into the awaiting helicopter, realising that it would not be long before she died as well.

***

The tropical rain fell in drenching sheets, hammering the corrugated roof of the clinic building, roaring down the metal gutters, splashing on the ground in a torrent. Lisa Carter sighed, and stared out the window. From the clinic, she could hardly see the beach or ocean beyond, cloaked in low fog. This wasn’t what she expected when she had come to the fishing village of Bahía Anasco, on the West Coast of Costa Rica, to spend two months as a visiting physician. Lisa Carter had expected sun and relaxation, after two gruelling years of residency in emergency medicine at Michael Reese in Chicago. She had been in Bahía Anasco now for three weeks. And it had rained every day. Everything else was fine. She liked the isolation of Bahía Anasco, and the friendliness of its people. Costa Rica had one of the twenty best medical systems in the world, and even in this remote coastal village, the clinic was well maintained, amply supplied. Her paramedic, Manuel Aragón, was intelligent and well trained. Lisa was able to practise a level of medicine equal to what she had practised in Chicago. But the rain! The constant, unending rain! Across the examining room, Manuel cocked his head. “Listen,” he said. “Believe me, I hear it,” Lisa said. “No, listen!” And then she caught it, another sound blended with the rain, a deeper rumble that built and emerged until it was clear: the rhythmic thumping of a helicopter. She thought, they can’t be flying in weather like this! But the sound built steadily, and then the helicopter burst low through the ocean fog and roared overhead, circled, and come back. She saw the helicopter swing back over the water, near the fishing boats, then ease sideways to the rickety wooden dock, and back toward the beach. It was looking for a place to land. It was a big-bellied Sikorsky, with the word ‘Rescue’. Lisa wondered what was so urgent on that island that a helicopter would fly in this weather. Through the windshield she saw the pilot exhale in relief as the helicopter settled onto the wet sand of the beach. Men jumped out, and flung open the big side door. She heard frantic shouts in Spanish, and Manuel nudged her. They were calling for a doctor.

Two black crewmen carried a limp body toward her, while a white man barked orders. He had black hair and jeans on. “Is there a doctor here?” he called to her, as she ran up.

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“I’m Dr. Carter,” she said. The rain fell in heavy drops, pounding her head and shoulders. The black haired man frowned at her. She was wearing cut-off jeans and a tank top. She had a stethoscope over one shoulder, the bell already rusted from the salt air. “John Millen. We’ve got a very sick girl here, doctor.” “Then you’d better take her to San José,” she said. San José was the capital, just twenty minutes away by air. “We would, but we can’t get over the mountains in this weather. You have to treat her here.” Lisa trotted alongside the injured girl as they carried her into the clinic. She was a kid, no older than three or four. Lifting away the blood-soaked shirt, she saw a big slashing rip across her shoulder, and another on the leg. She winced. “What happened to her?” “Don’t know,” Millen replied. “When I found her, the entire village on Cocos Island had been burned to the ground, and hundreds of other tribe members had been killed. There was another survivor, a man, but he died on the chopper.” The girl was pale, shivering, unconscious. Manuel stood by the bright green door of the clinic, waving his arm. The men brought the body through and set it on the table in the centre of the room. Manuel started an intravenous line, and Lisa swung the light over the girl and bent to examine the wounds. Immediately she could tell it did not look good. The girl would almost certainly die. A big tearing laceration ran from her shoulder down her torso. At the edge of the wound, the flesh was shredded. At the centre, the shoulder was dislocated, pale bones exposed. A second slash cut through the heavy muscles of the thigh, deep enough to reveal the pulse of the femoral artery below. Her first impression was that her leg had been ripped open. Lifting away the girl’s ripped clothing, she could see traces of semen around the vagina. “Tell me again about the injury,” she said. “I said I don’t know what happened.” “Because it looks like she’s been raped,” Lisa Carter said, probing the wound. “When did you find her?” “About an hour ago.” “All right,” she said, “wait outside.” “Why?” Millen asked, alarmed. He didn’t like that. “Do you want me to help her or not?” she said and pushed him out the door and closed it on his face. She didn’t know what had happened on that island, but she didn’t like it. Manuel hesitated. “I continue to wash?” “Yes,” she said. She reached for her digital camera, and took several snapshots of the injury, shifting her light for a better view. The girl groaned, and Lisa put her camera aside and bent toward her. Her lips moved, her tongue thick. “Blaze,” she said, and sat straight up on the table. Manuel shrieked in terror. The injured girl moaned and twisted her head looking left and right with wide staring eyes, and then she explosively vomited blood. “Shit!” Lisa said. The girl went immediately into convulsions, her body vibrating, and Lisa grabbed for her but she shuddered off the table onto the concrete floor. She vomited again. Blood was everywhere. Millen opened the door, saying, “What the hell’s happening?” and when he saw the blood he turned away, his hand to his mouth. Lisa was grabbing for a stick to

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put in the girl’s clenched jaws, but even as she did it she knew it was hopeless, and with a final spastic jerk the girl relaxed and lay still. Lisa bent to perform mouth-to-mouth, but realised that it didn’t matter; there was no possibility of resuscitating her. Swallowing dryly in the depths of her throat, Lisa pushed two fingers to the girl’s neck, cursing herself. There was no pulse. Lisa sighed, and covered up the body with a white sheet. Such a tragic waste, she thought.

The rain stopped late that night. Alone in the clinic with the body, Lisa scribbled on her daily report:

Infant girl, Blaze, 3 yrs approx. – deceased. She turned then, as a slight breeze hit the back of her neck, and gasped in fright. Where the girl’s body had lain just moments before, there was just a large bloodstain on the stretcher. The body was gone, and the door to the clinic was open…

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2 Costa Rica, 2005

Mike Carpenter whistled cheerfully as he drove the Land Rover through the Cabo Blanco Biological Reserve, on the West Coast of Costa Rica. It was a beautiful morning in July, and the road before him was spectacular: hugging the edge of a cliff, overlooking the jungle and the blue Pacific. According to the guidebooks, Cabo Blanco was unspoiled wilderness, almost a paradise. Seeing it now made Carpenter feel as if the vacation was back on track. Carpenter, a thirty-six-year-old real estate developer from Dallas, had come to Costa Rica with his wife and daughter for a two-week holiday. The trip had actually been his wife’s idea; for weeks Ellen had filled his ear about the wonderful national parks of Costa Rica and how good it would be for Tina to see them. Then, when they arrived, it turned out Ellen had an appointment to see a plastic surgeon in San José. That was the first Mike Carpenter had heard about the excellent and inexpensive plastic surgery available in Costa Rica, and all the luxurious private clinics in San José. Of course they’d had a huge fight. Mike felt she’d lied to him, and she had. And he put his foot down about the plastic surgery business. Anyway, it was ridiculous. Ellen was only thirty, and she was a beautiful woman. Hell, she’d been Homecoming Queen her senior year at Rice, and that was not even ten years earlier. But Ellen tended to be insecure, and worried. And it seemed as if in recent years she had mostly worried about losing her looks. That, and everything else. The Land Rover bounced in a pothole, splashing mud. Seated beside him, Ellen said, “Mike, are you sure this is the right road? We haven’t seen any other people for hours.” “There was another car fifteen minutes ago,” he reminded her. “Remember, the blue one?” “Going the other way…” “Darling, you wanted a deserted beach,” he said, “and that’s what you’re going to get.” Ellen shook her head doubtfully. “I hope you’re right.” “Yeah, dad. I hope you’re right,” said Christina, from the back seat. She was eight years old. “Trust me, I’m right.” He drove in silence for a moment. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The view. It’s beautiful.” “It’s okay,” Tina said. Ellen got out a compact and looked at herself in the mirror, pressing under her eyes. She sighed, and put the compact away. The road began to descend, and Mike Carpenter concentrated on driving.

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Suddenly a small, black shape flashed across the road and Tina shrieked, “Look! Look!” then it was gone. Mike slammed down on the brake and the car slid to a stop. “What the hell was that?” Ellen said. Mike Carpenter shrugged; it didn’t matter. He continued to drive.

Mike Carpenter felt like a hero when they finally reached the beach: a twomile crescent of white sand, utterly deserted. He parked the Land Rover in the shade of the palm trees that fringed the beach, and got out the lunch boxes. Ellen changed into her bathing suit, saying, “Honestly, I don’t know how I’m going to get this weight off.” “You look great, hon.” Actually, he felt that she was too thin, but he had learned not to mention that. Tina was already running down the beach. “Don’t forget you need your sunscreen,” Ellen called. “Later,” Tina shouted, over her shoulder, “I’m going to see what that thing was on the road.” Ellen Carpenter looked around at the beach, at the trees. “You think she’ll be alright?” “Honey, there’s nobody here for miles,” Mike said. “Let her go. Let her have a good time.”

Tina ran until she was exhausted, and then threw herself down on the sand and gleefully rolled to the water’s edge. The ocean was warm, and there were hardly any waves at all. She sat for a while, catching her breath, and then she looked back toward her parents and the car, to see how far she’d come. Her mother waved, beckoning her to return. Tina waved back cheerfully, pretending she didn’t understand. Tina didn’t want to put sunscreen on. And she didn’t want to go back and hear her mother talking about losing weight. She wanted to stay right here, and see what ran in front of her car. Now her mother was calling to her, and Tina decided to move out of the sun, back from the water, to the shade of the palm trees. In this part of the beach, the palm trees overhung a gnarled tangle of mangrove roots, which blocked any attempt to penetrate inland. Tina sat in the sand and kicked the dried mangrove leaves. In the sand, she spotted some human footprints. They were quite small, but bigger than her own. By the way the sand looked the prints must have been fresh. Tina was looking idly at the tracks when she heard a groaning sound, followed by a rustling in the leaves. She waited quietly, not moving, hearing the rustling again, and finally saw what was the source of the sounds. A few yards away, a girl emerged from the mangrove roots and peered at her. Tina held her breath as the girl stood up. The girl was about eleven or twelve years old, judging by her height. Her dark brown hair was extremely scruffy and long; her whole body was covered in dirt and muck. She was naked. Tina smiled, and said, “Hello.” “Blaze,” the girl answered. “Blaze!” Then, without warning, the girl reached into the mangrove roots and pulled out a short, rusty dagger, and began to walk toward Tina.

95

“I just wish I could see her,” Ellen Carpenter said, squinting in the sunlight. “That’s all. Just see her.” “I’m sure she’s fine,” Mike said, picking through the lunch box packed by the hotel. There was an unappetising grilled chicken, and some kind of meat filled pastry. Not that Ellen would eat any of it. “You don’t think she’d leave the beach?” Ellen said. “No, hon, I don’t.” “I feel so isolated here.” “I thought that’s what you wanted,” Mike said. “I did.” “Well, then what’s the problem?” “I just wish I could see her,” she said. Then, from down the beach, carried by the wind, they heard their daughter’s voice. She was screaming.

96

3 Manhunt

“I think she is quite comfortable now,” Dr. Cruz said, lowering the plastic flap of the oxygen tent around Tina as she slept. Mike Carpenter sat beside the bed, close to his daughter. Mike thought Dr. Cruz was probably pretty capable; he spoke excellent English, the result of training at medical centres in London and Baltimore. Dr. Cruz radiated competence, and in the Clínica Santa María, the modern hospital in Puntarenas, was spotless and efficient. But, even so, Mike Carpenter felt nervous. There was no getting around the fact that his only daughter was desperately ill, and they were far from home. When Mike had first reached Tina, she was screaming hysterically. Her whole left arm was bloody, covered with a profusion of small bites, each the size of a child’s. And there were flecks of sticky foam on her arm, like foamy saliva. He carried her back down the beach. Almost immediately her arm began to redden and swell. Mike would not soon forget the frantic drive back to civilisation, the four-wheel-drive Land Rover slipping and sliding up the muddy track into the hills, while his daughter screamed in fear and panic, and her arm grew more bloated and red. Long before they reached the park boundaries, the swelling had spread to her neck, and then Tina began to have trouble breathing. “She’ll be all right now?” Ellen said, staring through the plastic oxygen tent. “I believe so,” Dr. Cruz said, “I have given her another dose of steroids, and her breathing is much easier. And you can see the oedema in her arm is greatly reduced.” Mike Carpenter said, “About those bites…” “We have no identification yet,” the doctor said, “but we know they are definitely human bites. Because of the shape of them. You’ll notice they are disappearing. It’s quite difficult to make them out. Fortunately I have taken photographs for reference. And I have washed her arm to collect some samples of the saliva – one for analysis here, a second to send to the labs in San José, and the third we will keep frozen in case it is needed. Do you have the picture she drew?” “Yes,” Mike Carpenter said. He handed the doctor the sketch that Tina had drawn, in response to questions from the admitting officials. “This is the girl that bit her?” Dr. Cruz said, looking at the picture. “Yes,” Mike Carpenter said. Dr. Cruz looked at the picture a bit longer. “I am not an expert. I’ve asked for Dr. Sloane to visit us here. He is a senior researcher at the Reserva Biológica de Carara, which is across the bay. Perhaps he can identify the girl for us.” “Isn’t there someone from Cabo Blanco?” Carpenter asked. “That’s where she was bitten. The people there are more likely to…”

97

“Unfortunately not,” Dr. Cruz interrupted. “Cabo Blanco has no permanent staff, and no researcher has worked there for some time. You were probably the first people to walk on that beach for several months. But I am sure you will find Dr. Sloane knowledgeable.”

Dr. Sloane turned out to be a bearded man wearing khaki shorts and shirt. The surprise was that he was American. He was introduced to the Carpenters, saying in a soft Southern accent, “Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter, how lovely to see you,” and then explaining that he was a field biologist working at Yale and had been in Costa Rica for the last five years, and he’d heard all the Diagnosis Murder jokes under the sun. Martin Sloane examined thoroughly Tina, lifting her arm gently, peering closely at each of the bites with a penlight, then measuring them with a small pocket ruler. After a while, Sloane stepped away, nodding to himself as if he understood something. He then inspected the Polaroids, and asked several questions about the saliva, which Cruz told him was still being tested in the lab. Finally he turned to Mike Carpenter and his wife, waiting tensely. “I think Tina’s going to be fine. I just want to be clear about a few details,” he said, making notes in a precise hand. “Your daughter says she was bitten by a young girl, approximately five feet high?” “That’s right, yes.” “And this… ‘girl’ said something?” “Tina said the girl whispered ‘Blaze’.” “As in fire, you would say?” “Well…” “Yes, yes,” Dr. Sloane said. “I know who bit your daughter. Oh, yes.” Sloane went on to explain that the girl known as ‘Blaze’ was a feral orphan, homeless and unloved since the age of three. Her parents were part of a south-western tribal community on Cocos Island, who were apparently all destroyed by an opposing tribe back in ‘96. Since then, she had obviously inherited the characteristics of the wild animals around her, and had now begun to attack smaller children. “Others have been attacked too?” Ellen asked. She didn’t like the sound of that. “Yes. The girl killed a two-year-old, and maimed a four-year-old.” “Aren’t you going to do anything about it?” Mike Carpenter said, slightly exasperated. Dr. Sloane nodded. “Absolutely, sir. I’ll be going down there myself to apprehend her personally. She’s clearly a significant risk to public health now – and there’s no telling what kind of diseases and conditions she may be picking up out there. It really is a hostile environment. Once she’s caught, we can lock her up somewhere secure. In a safe environment, maybe she can be rehabilitated back into society. I don’t know for sure - we’ll leave that for the mental health professionals to decide.” Dr. Cruz approached. “The saliva analysis results have come back.” “Well?” Mike Carpenter asked. “Where does it come from?” “Female human,” Cruz confirmed, “Blaze Fielding. The saliva matches that found on the other children she attacked.” “Blaze Fielding?” Mike Carpenter said, raising his eyebrows.

98

Cruz nodded. “We gave her the surname,” he smiled. “Roughly translated, in the language of her tribe at least, it means ‘child attacker’, or ‘devil child’. More appropriately, perhaps, in Old English, the name means ‘of the field’, or ‘of the wild’. A reference to her feral nature.” Mike Carpenter relaxed a little and nodded, taking deep breaths. “Right,” he nodded. At least now they knew who had attacked their daughter. “She had a severe herpetological reaction,” Cruz said, referring to Tina’s screams. “Normal time course with medication is twelve hours. She should be just fine in the morning.”

***

“Go on. Say thankyou to Dr. Cruz,” Ellen Carpenter said, and pushed Tina forward. “Thankyou, Dr. Cruz,” Tina said, “I feel much better now.” She reached up and shook the doctor’s hand. “Enjoy the rest of your holiday in Costa Rica.” “I will.” The Carpenters departed, with thankful hearts that their daughter was alive.

***

Marty Sloane sat on the beach and watched the afternoon sun fall lower in the sky, until it sparkled harshly on the water of the bay, and its rays reached beneath the palm trees, to where he sat among the mangroves, on the beach of Cabo Blanco. As best as he could determine, he was sitting near the spot where the American girl had been, two days before. He was amazed that Blaze Fielding was still alive, if he was honest. Two years ago, he’d heard reports of her being brutally raped by a gang of youths who roamed the area. They had supposedly tied the ten-year-old girl to a tree, before each of them raped her repeatedly for many hours, threatening her at knife point. They then threw her into the sea, her hands tied behind her back so that swimming was impossible. A very unpleasant attack, indeed. Of course, the police had picked up the youths after a pensioner had witnessed the whole thing and reported it. Sloane had assumed that the girl had drowned – but apparently not. Earlier that morning, he had taken the air pistol, loaded the clip with ligamine darts, and set out for the beach with high hopes. But the day wasted. Soon he would have to drive back up the hill from the beach; he did not want to drive that road in darkness. Sloane got to his feet, and started back up the beach. It was then that he saw Blaze Fielding. She was walking, naked, along the edge of the mangrove swamp. She was limping, obviously injured. Sloane moved away and stepped behind a bush out of her view. He dropped to the ground, and aimed the pistol.

99

“Hello there,” he muttered to himself. Blaze looked, and saw him, stared curiously. She did not run away, even when the first dart whined harmlessly past her. When the second dart struck deep in her thigh, the girl shrieked in anger and surprise. She dropped to the ground, wheezing in agony. Sloane got to his feet and walked forward. The tranquilliser dose would give the girl a few minutes of dizziness. Already he was thinking what to do with her. Probably he would take her to Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital in Los Angeles. They would provide excellent medicine, a rehab course better than any other in the world, and a suitable environment. He picked her up, and made for the jeep. “Kiss goodbye to the free world,” he muttered.

100

4 Insane Medication

SEVERAL YEARS LATER

Blaze slept. She could hear voices in her dream, a distant overlay of ghostly sound wound among the shimmering and frightful images. “…dreaming again. What’d you give her?” “…thirty of Trinomine…” The undulating door swung wide, creaking loudly. A kind of…presence oozed through. Blaze couldn’t see it clearly… “…thirty? That’s twice the usual dosage. Aren’t you worried about brain damage?” Blaze was frozen. Couldn’t even turn away as they came for her. She opened her mouth to scream… “…well, that’s a risk isn’t it? She’s already halfway insane and none of the conventional therapies work…” Blaze sleeps, but it is not rest. In her dreams she is back home. She sees her parents, sees the inside of the village that plans to turn the planet into a paradise. Sees and is happy. Things blur. Then she sees the men. Her life becomes a jumble of hiding, of fear, of waiting for them to find and kill her. She joins the rats under the floor; her mind and actions turn feral. Survival is all, and it is nothing, likely to stop at any moment. She sees her father, and the others, guns shooting. Crossbows firing. She hears the noise, feels the terror. Watches the men fall, but knows there are too many of them. There comes the worst moment, when a man throws her to the ground and rapes her, raping her again and again as she screams in pain, wanting to die. She scrabbles away. She screams. The only word that matters now. “God!” The only one who can save her.

***

101

The patient cafeteria was nearly empty, a dozen or so of the inmates shuffling their drug-calmed ways through the line with soft plastic trays. Blaze moved in her own chemical fog, feeling tired, but unable to rest. Sasha sat at a table next to the holo-projection chair, using a fork made of plastic to stir some ugly noodles around on her plate. The tableware was strong enough to lift the food but would curl up like cardboard if you tried to stab somebody with it. Somebody like yourself. “Hey, Blaze,” Sasha said. “Check out Deedee. She’s switching channels on the projector every three seconds. Why, I’d think the girl was mentally disturbed!” Sasha laughed. Blaze knew Sasha’s history. She had pushed her father into a vat of jewellery cleaning acid when she was nine. She’d been here for four years because every time they asked her whether she’d do it again if she had the chance, she grinned and told them sure. Every day of the week. Blaze glanced at Deedee. The girl was gazing at the holographic projector as if hypnotised. It was fairly new technology, as far as Blaze knew, having replaced the older HDTV and 3DTV systems. The tiny holograms blinked as she changed the channels. With four or five hundred choices, it would take even Deedee a while to see them all. “C’mon, have a seat. Try some of this worm puke, it’s real good.” Blaze sat, almost collapsing. “You on blues again?” Blaze sighed. “Greens.” “Crap, what’d you do, strangle a nurse?” “The dreams.” Blaze glanced at the tiny viewer in front of Deedee. A deep space ship flew across the void. Blink. A car chase on a multilane surface road. Blink. A roadrunner cartoon. Blink. A documentary. Blink. “C’mon, Blaze,” Sasha said, “you have only what, a month left until your hearing?” “I won’t skate this time either, Sash. They can’t figure it out. They say my folks died in an explosion. I know better. I was there!” “Ease up, kid. The monitors –” “Hey, fuck the monitors!” Blaze shoved her plate across the table, scattering the safety tableware and noodles. The rubbery plate fell to the cushioned floor, bounced, but made hardly any sound. Attendants appeared as if by magic, but Blaze’s rage couldn’t stand any longer against the sedatives in her system. She slumped. Deedee smiled as the attendants came and helped Blaze to her feet. “Dammit! Let go!” Then somebody pressed a green patch to her carotid and Blaze stopped even that much of a struggle.

The conference room door loomed in front of Blaze like the mouth of doom. The conference room in which waited the review team, as it had so many times before. She took a deep breath, and went inside.

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Dr. Jerrin stood there, and he wasn’t smiling. Not a good sign. “Have a seat, Blaze,” he said. She looked at the other six faces. Three were doctors she knew, one a medical centre administrator, one a legal rep for the government, one her legal rep, the last one here to make sure the usual lynching was all nice and legal. Blaze sat. Jerrin looked at the other members of the team. He cleared his throat, fiddled with a flat screen on the table. “Ah, Blaze, we seem to have come to an…impasse in your treatment.” “Really?” Blaze said. She couldn’t keep the irony out of her voice, but it didn’t make any difference. This was only a matter of form. They weren’t going to let her out. Not now. Probably not ever. She was going to spend her life in this place. “Dr. Hannah has suggested a new treatment which while fairly, ah, dramatic, offers a chance for us to stop those nocturnal episodes of yours.” Blaze perked up, but only a little. “Really?” Less sarcasm now. Jerrin looked at Hannah, a fat blonde from some cold climate, at least to judge by how frigid her words always seemed. Hannah said, “Yes, we’ve had some success with it in England. It’s a fairly simple procedure, an operation using a fine surgical laser that eliminates predefined areas of certain cerebral complexes –” “What?! You’re talking about burning out my brain!” “Now, Blaze,” Jerrin began. “Fuck that! I won’t!” Hannah smiled, a sour expression. “It’s not really up to you, dear. The state has certain prerogatives here. You are a danger to yourself and others with your fantasies –” “They aren’t fantasies! You know they aren’t!” She was on her feet now, yelling at Hannah. The door opened and two orderlies came in, shockers in hand. “What’s she on?” Hannah asked as if Blaze were deaf or not in the room. Jerrin said, “Triazolam, Hariperidol, Chlorpromazine, double maintenance dose.” “See?” Hannah said, “Habituation. We’ve rotated her through everything we have and she’s used to them all. She shouldn’t even be able to do much more than walk – and look at her.” Blaze struggled in the grip of the two orderlies, able to move them slightly despite their size. Jerrin sighed. “I suppose you’re right.” “Dr. Jerrin! No! Please!” “It’s for the best, Blaze. You’ll be a lot happier without the dreams.” “But what else will it cost me? Will that be all you take, the dreams?” Jerrin stared at the table. “Will it?” “There may be some slight collateral damage, minor loss of memory in some areas.” “You fuckers are going to burn who I am away, aren’t you? Turn me into a zombie!” “Now, Blaze –”

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With a strength born of terror, Blaze jerked free of the orderlies and turned to run. She made it to the door before a third orderly slapped her side with his shocker. She fell, unable to control her voluntary muscles. Oh, God! They were going to wipe her brain! She might as well be dead, because when they were done, there wasn’t going to be anybody home.

***

Removing her clothes, Blaze yawned, stretching her aching muscles, and laid down naked on the bed. She closed her eyes and wept; she just wanted to die. She wanted this nightmare to end; this nightmare of her life. She couldn’t sleep, and to be honest, she didn’t really feel like she wanted to. She opened her eyes and looked around the padded cell, cushioned all over, and not a single place in the small room to hide. Suddenly, Blaze felt a whoosh of cold air. She sat up, and glanced around the room. Nothing. She frowned. Strangely, she could sense a presence in her room. “Hello?” she called, just in case. “Who’s there?” Dr. Jerrin stepped into her view, eyes wide, grinning. “Time for another session,” he murmured, licking his lips. Oh, please no! Not this again! The next thing she knew, the man’s hands were clasping her legs, his fingernails digging into her flesh, pulling her across the bed. Blaze screamed, “Fuck off!”, but she almost blacked out as he slapped her across the face with the back of his hand. She could feel the warm taste of blood in her mouth, as he picked her up and threw her back onto the bed. The springs snapped with the impact, and Blaze struggled with all her might to keep the doctor away from her. She used her legs to kick him as he drew closer, but failed miserably as he pinned her arms down with his own and brought his body close to hers. “Get away from me!” Blaze struggled, and thrust her right knee violently into his face. Jerrin keeled backwards, blood spraying from his jaw. Blaze seized her chance and leapt from the bed, but fell as Jerrin reached for her ankle and kept a solid grip around her leg. She writhed like a snake, kicking and screaming, but nobody could hear her. Jerrin slapped her again, and she could feel his weight bearing down on her chest. “Fuck!” she cried, as he pressed his elbow down into her oesophagus. She choked, using her hands to press him away, but it was no good. He brought his face down to hers, and he pressed his lips onto her mouth. As he did so, his hands cupped and squeezed her breasts. Rapidly, Jerrin had removed his clothes, and was now concentrating on guiding himself into the warmth that was her vagina. Blaze screamed, but nobody could hear her in the sound-proofed cell. With an emotion that can only be described as pure fear, Blaze felt him penetrate her, his body violating hers. She squeezed her eyes shut, wanting the nightmare to end. But this wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. Dr. Jerrin was raping her – again… How many times must I endure this…?

104

Blaze held her breath, every thrust of the man’s hips seeming like an eternity of torture. This was wrong, on so many levels. It was crazy. How could he? Jerrin was sweating and panting now, going faster. Her heart thudded rapidly, her mind struggling to comprehend. Not again! Please, not again! Tears flowed down her cheeks… She could feel him kneading her breasts, nearing his peak. Then he shuddered, and gasped in orgasm, his body rocking with the sensation. Blaze’s eyes widened as she battled with him. In desperation she bit down hard on the tongue that stabbed into and violated her mouth. Jerrin lifted, screaming in agony, blood seeping from the wound, giving Blaze the chance to pull herself away from him. She opened her mouth and screamed. “God!” More tears. “Help me…”

105

5 Los Angeles, May 2015

Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital loomed like a gleaming and ugly beast of stressed concrete and ferrofoam and glass as Axel Stone left the cab and walked toward it. He had the section, the room number, and a theoretical schedule, courtesy of his buddy in MI-7, the British Intelligence Service. Getting here undetected hadn’t been a problem either, even though he was restricted by his superiors. For every system they made to do something, there was a way around it. Rank might have its privileges – he was a cop, a sergeant with the LAPD – but the guys on the front line knew a few tricks of their own. The admit pad on the complex door was an old-style keypad, but that was why he had chosen this entrance, no eye reader. Axel Stone punched in the code he’d gotten. The lock chimed and the door slid open. Hell, this was easier than swatting flies. He walked in. A guard leaned back in a chair at a desk and glanced at Axel. “Can I help you?” “Yeah, I’m supposed to see Dr. Jerrin.” The guard glanced down. Must have seen Jerrin’s name. He waved his hands over the console and brought up the appointment list. “And you are…?” “Emile Antoon Jackson,” Axel said, giving the man a name from an old book he’d once read. The guard glanced down. “I don’t see your name here, Mr. Jackson.” Axel hadn’t been able to find and get into the patient file, he hadn’t the time, though he had gotten the doctor’s name right. “I’m a last minute deal,” he said, “somebody cancelled.” The guard frowned. “I’ll have to check with the doctor,” he said. “Fine, check,” he gave the guard a good view of his police badge. The guard was not suspicious, just following the drill. As the guard reached for the comm. unit to call the doctor, Axel moved his right hand slowly toward his right hip. He had a multicharge ‘Tesla’ pistol, a synapse scrambler, nestled in his sidearm holster. He’d actually gotten the weapon on the black market; it was illegally boosted so it could deliver a stun charge at twice the tenmetre distance approved for standard police hardware. Axel looked up and down the hallway, nobody around. He pulled the stunner, brought it up, held it in both hands. The heavy plastic felt cool in his grip. It threw a fairly narrow beam, you had to aim it, but he’d had the target laser installed under the shabby barrel. The bright red dot danced over the guard and stopped on his forehead. The guard looked up. “Hey!” Axel shot him.

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The guard collapsed in his chair. Axel moved to arrange him so he looked like he had dozed off. The man would wake up in half an hour with one bitch of a headache, but otherwise should be fine. He pulled the guard’s bar code ID off and clipped it to his shirt pocket over his badge. It wouldn’t fool a scanner if the thing tried to match his retinal patterns to it, but a human passer-by would see that Axel had a tag and probably think nothing of it. By the time the guard came to, things would be all over, one way or another. But, just in case, Axel bent and fed in the security system lock code virus he’d gotten. The computer terminal digested the code. If it did what it was supposed to do, it would infect the main system in this building. Nobody was going to be calling for outside help from here for a long time, not unless they went to a window and hollered for it. That didn’t do anything for internal security, but Axel figured he could deal with that. He was a good cop, and if he could not take care of himself, he’d shoot himself. He tucked the stunner back into its holster under his civilian jacket and smiled. Time to go pick up his date for the prom.

***

The door to Blaze’s room slid open. Locked to the bed, naked, by the suppressor field as she was, she couldn’t do more than turn her head slightly. “Who are you?” she said. “I’m Axel Stone,” he answered. “Pack your socks, darling. We’re going for a ride.” He moved to shut the suppressor field off. “How the fuck did you…? Why…?” “We’ll talk later,” he said, “right now we need to hustle along. I might have made a couple of enemies on the way in here and I don’t think we have time to discuss it.” Blaze rolled from the bed, making no attempt to hide her naked body. She grabbed a robe and put it on. “I’m ready.” “What, you don’t want to fix your hair or spray make-up on or something?” he grinned. “I’d crawl over broken glass to get out of here. Go!” He turned, stuck his head out into the hall. “Okay, go!” She followed him into the hall. They were doing pretty well until they got to the elevators atrium. The tube’s doors opened and Dr. Jerrin came out, followed by an orderly and two guards, moving fast. The guards had their stunners out and the others both waved shockers. Axel never hesitated. He pulled a pistol from under his jacket and smiled, then fired. Blaze watched the little red dot his weapon projected bounce across the heads of the guards and orderly. The three of them went down, their own weapons clattering quietly to the soft floor. The last man, Dr. Jerrin, who Blaze recognised only too well, rolled and came up in some sort of martial arts stance, facing Axel. Axel tucked his weapon away. “Stay behind me, kid.” Jerrin moved in and swung the shocker like it was a sword. Axel dodged to his left, slapped the man’s outstretched arm to one side, and punched him low on the ribs. Jerrin grunted, made as if to turn and swing the shocker again, and Axel kicked the man, hitting the side of his knee with the edge of his boot. Blaze heard Jerrin’s knee crack as something gave in it.

107

Jerrin’s leg folded and he dropped, but Axel pulled his foot back and thrust it out again, smashing his heel into the man’s head. Jerrin flew sideways and slammed into the corridor wall. “The stairs?” “That way!” Blaze followed Axel down the hall to the end. She glanced at the unconscious men as she went past. He’d taken them out almost instantly without even working up a sweat. “Why didn’t you shoot Dr. Jerrin?” she asked as they reached the stairwell. “Pistol’s charge was depleted,” he said, “didn’t have time to reload.” They went down two flights – her room was on four – then Axel led her into the second floor. “This isn’t the ground –” she began. “I know. They’ll have the doors covered by now. We have to find another exit.” She followed him. Two was quiet, and they moved briskly, but not at a run. A technician glanced at them as they passed his station. Axel smiled and nodded. “How’s it going?” The tech nodded back. Then his control board lit up, pulling his attention away from them. “Move,” Axel said to Blaze. “That’ll be the alarm.” Blaze ran. There was an emergency escape window at the end of the corridor, but it required a staffer to open it. “That’s a coded lock,” Blaze said. “Yeah, and I didn’t have time to get all the exit numbers,” Axel said. “But I have a nifty little master key, courtesy of the US Marine Corps Armoury.” Blaze found out what he meant as Axel slapped a wad of what looked like hair gel onto the lock mechanism, squeezed it three times, and waved her back. Behind them, the tech started yelling. “Hey, you two! Get away from that window! I’ve called security!” The gel flashed bright blue and started to sizzle as if it were a piece of bacon on a too hot grill. The lock’s stacked plastic casing bubbled and ran like water. “Don’t look at it!” Axel said, “it’ll burn your eyes!” Blaze turned to see the tech coming toward them. “Axel!” “No problem!” He pulled his pistol from under his jacket and pointed it at the tech. The tech stopped. He held his hands out in front of him defensively. “Hey, hey, take it easy!” “Get the hell outta here,” Axel said. The tech turned and ran. Axel smiled. “Amazing what even an empty gun can do ain’t it?” He put the weapon away. The lock dripped into a puddle on the floor, plastic slag. Axel kicked the window and the unbreakable clearflex swung outward on its side hinges. He leaned out, looked down. “Too high to jump. We’d break an ankle.” He pulled a small device from under his jacket. Blaze watched as he unfolded a pair of handles that jutted at right angles from the thing, a rounded square of black plastic the size of a big man’s hand.

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Axel pointed the device at the windowsill and touched a control on it. It popped loudly. A thin line of white sprayed out from a nozzle on the end and hit the sill. He touched another control and loops of the line paid out. “One, two, three, four,” he said. “Okay, it’s set. Climb onto my back,” he said. Blaze obeyed. With that, he stepped up onto the sill, turned to face the hallway, and began to climb down the outside wall. The line coming out of the thing looked awful thin to support them. He said, “hang on, I’m going to lean back.” She clutched him tightly with her arms and legs. Holding them with his arms outstretched, he began to walk backward down the wall. “Spider gear,” he said. “Don’t worry, this line’ll support ten men without breaking.” It took no more than a few seconds for them to reach the ground. As she slid from his back, Blaze said, “Where are we going?” “Does it matter?” She shook her head. No. It didn’t matter. Anywhere was better than this loony home. The pair of them hurried away.

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6 Axel

Axel Stone led Blaze Fielding to his apartment, located in Van Nuys Boulevard in Panorama City on the edge of Los Angeles County. He took a short cut through a back alley where no patrolling officer would see them, just to be on the safe side. The apartment itself was rather plain, one of ten lining a nondescript corridor in a brown wrapper two-level building. It was more like a barracks than an apartment building, and while Axel seemed to be disappointed with it, Blaze was not. It was a lot better than the hospital. Upon entering the apartment, Axel moved to a cupboard in the far corner of the main living room and pulled out some of his clothes: a pair of denim jeans and a white T-shirt. He handed them to her, saying, “you best put some clothes on.” Blaze took the clothes gratefully, slipping out of the hospital robe, exposing her naked body. Surprised, Axel turned away politely, and waited patiently as she dressed. The clothes were far too big for her, but they would do for now. “All right, Axel Stone,” she said, sitting down in a comfy, black leather chair. “I want some answers. Why did you spring me outta that place?” She sipped some tea he had provided, looked out the window at the city. The tea was iced, and it was exotic, rich and cold. Axel was sitting in a chair opposite her, looking thoughtful. “Well,” he began, “first I’ll tell you I’m a cop, with the LAPD. I can protect you from these guys, but I need to know a few things.” Blaze smiled. “I knew you were a cop! But why rescue me? Sneaking into the hospital and breaking me free, it obviously wasn’t an official police operation. You act like a fucking secret agent.” Axel looked at her, slightly amused by her bad language. “Well, for a start you’re not actually insane.” He sighed. He’d been over this time and time again at the station, and it would take a while to explain. “I’m not?” Blaze whispered. She crouched lower in the chair; took another sip of her tea. “No,” said Axel, standing up. “They had you put in there initially for a good reason, I’ll admit that. But that was a long time ago, years. For some reason, they were still keeping you locked up in that place even though technically, you had the full right to be back on the streets by now. It’s my belief that there’s some kind of criminal activity involved, a shadow organisation – a Syndicate, that has some kind of interest in you. My partner and I received an anonymous tip-off about it a while back and we’ve been trying to figure this mess out ever since. I originally requested that you be released for a court hearing to ascertain the truth legally, but the Police Chief, William O’Hara, as well as the District Attorney, were both quick to dismiss it, and the case was prematurely closed; the matter silently buried. We knew something

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wasn’t quite right about all this, perhaps a cover-up, so I’m working behind the Chief’s back here. I’ve put my ass on the line for you, sweetheart.” Blaze looked to the floor, slightly embarrassed, shifted her position in the chair. “Why would they wanna keep me imprisoned? I was enough trouble to them as it is. They were going to wipe my fucking –” “I don’t know yet,” Axel said. “The local government is keeping a tight lid on it. They refused to comment when I approached them about it. But I do know it has something to do with your parents…” “My parents are dead, you idiot,” Blaze snapped. She folded her arms across her chest. That made her think about the dreams, the village, and the intruders. Why would the people at the hospital, and a criminal Syndicate, want to keep her locked up, and erase all her knowledge of the incident? Whatever the case, Axel was right. Something weird was going on here. She was about to ask him what he thought when there was a loud knocking at the door. “Oh, fuck,” she breathed. She looked around the small room, for somewhere she could hide. It was sure to be the guys from Edgemont coming for her. “Who is it?” Axel asked, ushering Blaze out of the room. “It’s Adam,” came a voice from the other side. The voice was strong and stern. Axel breathed a sigh of relief. “Who –?” Blaze began. She was cowering behind a chair. “It’s alright,” Axel smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. “Adam Hunter is my partner. He’s been trying to get some more information for us.” Axel got up and answered the door. Standing in the doorway was a broadshouldered black man wearing a cop uniform. “Hiya, Ax. I came to see how you were getting on.” His eyes tracked from Axel to Blaze, who was walking out from behind the chair. “And you must be Blaze Fielding,” he said. His eyes travelled over her firm, slim body in a taunting, hungry manner that she abhorred. She felt herself tensing; not another one of these jerks. “Yes.” “Nice to meet you. I hear you’re in a spot of trouble with the authorities.” “What kind of trouble?” she asked. “Well, that’s what me and Ax have been trying to determine,” he answered in an over-familiar leer. He had a musky, hair out the undershirt presence, and an overbearing, muscular aura that seemed to say, Let’s get these formalities over with quick and then slip between the sheets, babe. “Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?” he boomed. He held up a keg of beer. “I brought my own.” Axel widened the door to allow him in, and frowned. “Adam, are you drunk?” he said, genuinely shocked. “On duty?” Some partner, Blaze thought. A big grin split the man’s swarthy, Romannosed face, and he lumbered in, handing the keg to Axel and offered Blaze a large, firm handshake. He smelled of hair and beery lunch, but had a natural power to him, reflected in the firm muscles and self-confident gait. His black hair was tousled, but he was no spring chicken. It looked as though this guy had been in some heavy-duty scrapes, and, from the scars on him, hadn’t come out unbloodied. But unbowed? That was another story. “I broke up with Jodie again,” Adam was saying. “I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Hey, got some glasses or something?” he asked. Axel went to find something. “Say, you’re a solid woman. You’ll have some beer with us, won’t you?” “I’m drinking tea.”

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“Oh, come on!” he turned to Axel. “Get a brew for my new sweetheart will you, guy?” he roared, and turned back to Blaze. “We don’t know what we’re getting into here. Might as well party while we can, right, angel-eyes?” With no warning Adam stepped over and put his big arm around Blaze’s back. She could immediately smell he’d been drinking before he arrived. Somehow his big hand wriggled down to her backside and squeezed her right buttock as though testing the ripeness of a melon. The buffoon was large, probably weighing over twice as much as Blaze, and probably figured he could get away with this kind of behaviour by sheer intimidation. Blaze barely thought about what she was doing; her reaction was automatic. She pulled the hand away, grabbed his arm by the wrist, stepped away, and with practised ease flipped Adam over. He landed heavily on the floor. Blaze stepped on his face as she twisted his arm at a startling angle, just short of damage. “Next time I break it! Understand?” “Jeez, I was only joking! Give a guy a break.” “You didn’t answer my fucking question!” “I understand! I understand!” She let him go, and he got up. Axel’s eyes twinkled, and there was a slight smile on his face. “I’ve told you to cut that sort of stuff out, Adam.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Adam said, dusting himself off. “Guess there’s a reason she’s in trouble.” He grinned uneasily. “Nice ass, though.” “I’m not here for anyone’s amusement or pleasure, Adam.” “Cripes, gimme that beer. I sure need it now.” He took the proffered glass and took a big gulp, Axel handed one to Blaze as well. Axel was more slender, more preferable than his partner. He had nice blonde hair matted with gel across the top of his head. He was friendly and relaxed, but there was a hard and remote core of reserve to this man, and an unreadable nature to his empty blue eyes. Otherwise, he had a face like a demigod, and his beauty was not lost upon even so jaded a soul as Blaze’s. She was beginning to find him attractive. Adam watched Blaze staring at Axel and smiled. “Stop drooling, doll. This is business.” Blaze spun round, made a face, and then slapped him squarely across the jaw with a force that nearly lurched him out of his seat. “Jesus!” Adam screamed, clenching his chin. “So,” Blaze huffed to Axel, “What do you want from me? What’s going on?” Axel glanced at Adam, who was moving into the bathroom, clearly half-cut and not behaving like himself. “We believe that this… criminal Syndicate… has connections at the highest level of government, and that for some reason, they were keeping you locked up in that hospital indefinitely. We believe that someone in the government is involved, or was involved, with the destruction of your village on Cocos Island. There might have been more to it than just mindless killing. More of a planned operation. We need to know all you remember about the incident so we can get to the bottom of this.” Adam returned and slumped into his chair. “Well,” Blaze said, hugging her knees. “I was only three at the time. I’m twenty-two now.” “You must remember something.” Blaze swallowed hard. “Sure I do. Every night I dream about it. The dreams. They never stop haunting me.” She sniffed; Axel thought she was going to cry.

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A few uncomfortable seconds passed, and Axel said, “You know, I have a feeling we’d be a lot more comfortable discussing this over dinner.” Blaze looked up sharply. “Dinner? You mean, a real dinner?” Axel shrugged. “Sure. You like Indian food?” “No…yes…er…well I…never really tried any. To be honest I’ve never had a decent meal in my life.” She looked embarrassed. Axel smiled. “Then let me treat you. Let’s call it a date.” “A date?” Blaze liked the sound of that. “Is it safe?” “Probably not. But I think we can get away with it. Do you trust me?” Blaze grinned. “Implicitly.” “Okay,” Axel smiled, and stood up. Adam had fallen asleep, and was snoring loudly. “Let’s leave Adam to sleep off the drink for now. I know just the place to take you.”

***

Like most women, Blaze liked a take-charge man. She also liked the way Axel kept his light but firm grip on her hand on the elevator ride up the skyscraper building to the restaurant at the top. The waiter showed them to a table beside a window with a spectacular view of Los Angeles. A universe of lights sparkled in the evening haze. The bridges over the river were jammed with honking cars that fanned out on the streets and mingled with the delivery trucks and tourist buses. “Unless you prefer a cocktail,” said Axel, “I suggest that we stay with wine.” Blaze nodded and flashed a satisfied smile. “Fine by me. Why don’t you order the courses as well?” “I love an adventurous soul,” he smiled. He studied the wine list briefly. “We’ll try a bottle of Grenaclis Village.” “Very good,” the waiter said. “One of our best local dry white wines.” Axel then ordered an appetiser dip of ground sesame seeds with eggplant, a yoghurt dish called leban zabadi, and a tray of pickled vegetables with a basket of whole wheat pita bread. After the wine came and was poured, Axel raised his glass. “Here’s to you, Blaze. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.” “And to you,” she said as they chinked glasses. Then a curious expression came into her eyes. “Why are you so interested in protecting me? Why put your ass on the line for me?” Axel sighed. “I’ve read about what was going on at Edgemont. The conditions and treatment you were getting… is far from acceptable. I guess I couldn’t sit back and watch while such a beautiful girl suffered such a horrible life. The criminals behind this need to be brought to justice.” Blaze gulped back the wine, and gasped. “I deserve it for what I did.” “No, you don’t deserve it,” Axel insisted. “Believe me. Officially, you’re in perfect mental health now.” The appetisers were brought and they looked down at them with happy anticipation. They dipped fried slices of eggplant into the sesame seed dip and

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relished the pickled vegetables. While the waiter stood by, Axel ordered the main course. “Why the fuck didn’t they just kill me? Why keep me locked up?” asked Blaze. “A waste of money, surely.” “Good question. I have no idea. It would seem you were worth more to these people alive than dead. Why, I couldn’t even imagine…” The yoghurt arrived, thick and creamy. Blaze stared at it hesitantly. “Try it,” goaded Axel. “Not only will leban zabadi spoil your taste for other yoghurts, but it straightens out the intestines.” “Curdles, you mean.” She played dainty and jabbed her tongue at a minute scoop in her spoon. Impressed, she began putting it away in earnest. “So what happens if you prove all this? Do I get to go free?” “Definitely,” Axel replied. “This kind of conspiracy runs deep and you’ve paid a heavy price. I can imagine you’ll get a sizeable compensation payout, too, so you’ll be able to make a clean start in life.” “I’m glad I listened to you. This yoghurt is good.” The waiter appeared deftly carrying a large silver tray with oval serving dishes. A spicy ground lamb cooked on skewers and crayfish grilled over charcoal were served along with a stewed kind of spinach green and a richly seasoned pilaff of beef, rice, raisons and nuts. After consulting with the waiter who was so attentive it was downright patronising, Axel ordered a few pungent sauces. “So what do you remember about the village?” Axel asked, as the steaming delights were dished onto their plates. “Lots of things. This lamb is really tasty.” “Try one of the sauces. The fermented berry complements the lamb.” “What’s the green one?” “I’m not sure. It has a sweet and hot taste. Dip the crayfish in it.” “Delicious,” Blaze said. “Everything tastes wonderful. Except for the greens. The flavour’s too strong.” “They call it moulukeyeh. You have to acquire a taste for it. But back to the village… can you give me any details?” “Yeah. The intruders came on large golden ships, with pictures of dog’s heads howling at the moon. It’s a bit of a blur, to be honest. This rice dish is good. What do they call it?” “Khalta.” “Sounds weird.” “Did I hear you correctly? The invaders came on golden ships?” “Yep. Then they came to shore and began slaughtering everyone. I saw my parents burning alive as I was fucked by five of the intruders again and again. It went on for what seemed like hours.” “Jesus…” Blaze nodded. “Yeah, it was pretty horrific. I love that sauce with the chutney taste.” “It’s very good.” “Especially with the Khalta “I never realised it was so terrible for you. Are you sure you’re okay to talk about this?” asked Axel. Blaze drained her wine and waited until the waiter poured another glass. “It’s alright, really. You’re the only person who’s ever believed me. The doctors seem to

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think I’ve created these memories from my dreams. They prescribed me drugs that turned the whites of my eyes beet red.” Axel winced. “Do you have room for dessert?” “Everything is so good, I’ll make room.” “Coffee or tea?” “Coffee.” Axel motioned to the waiter who was on him like a skier attacking fresh snow. “An Um Ali for the lady and two coffees. One English, one Indian.” “What’s an Um Ali?” asked Blaze. “A hot bread pudding with milk and topped with pine nuts. Soothes the stomach after a heavy meal.” “Sounds just right.” Axel leaned back in his chair, his face set in concern. “You said you’re having dreams about the attack. Do you get them every night?” She nodded. “Every night.” “Sounds pretty bad.” “Bad doesn’t even begin to describe it. I wake up during the night and my sheets are soaked with sweat, my body aching all over. It almost seems fucking real.” Axel stared at her, and Blaze could see a look of sadness in his eyes. “Nobody deserves to go through something like this. I’m gonna get to the bottom of this, if it’s the last thing I do.”

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7 The Fugitive

After dinner, they returned to Axel’s apartment. Blaze was feeling better and better all the time. She was excited. She didn’t know why. Perhaps it was the food. An Indian meal. She had never tasted anything quite like it before, and she wanted more. Her tongue was still hot from the chilli flavour. The air conditioning had been shut off. The room was stifling. Adam was gone. The place felt deserted. Blaze sat in the black chair; Axel remained standing, leaning a shoulder against the wall just inside the room’s entry. It kept him in partial shadow; it kept Blaze in full light. “So,” she said resignedly. “What happens now?” Axel pushed away from the wall. “What do you know about Simon Jerrin?” he asked, and saw her gaze dart in his direction. “Dr. Jerrin?” “Yes.” Blaze swallowed. “He’s the one who was in charge of me in the hospital. He was an evil bastard. I… hated him; I wanted nothing more than to kill him. He hit me when I was disobedient, and sometimes he broke into my room at night and… and raped me.” Axel had a concerned look on his face. “Jesus… and… and you don’t mind talking about this?” Blaze shook her head. “It’s ironic. I’ve been raped so many times in my life… I’ve almost gotten used to it. How sick is that? But anyway, why do you mention Dr. Jerrin?” Axel swallowed; Blaze could see that she had made him uncomfortable. “Well, this might shock you… “ “Try me,” Blaze insisted. Axel paused for a few seconds to take a breath. “He’s not a doctor.” Blaze swallowed dryly; said nothing. “He’s not a doctor, Blaze. He works for the federal government. Under the control of one of the highest-ranking members of the US Senate…” “What? You’re joking, right? If he works for the fucking government, how could he prescribe medication? And perform his tests on me? Give me injections?” Blaze asked. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. As I said, it’s a conspiracy to cover up the truth,” Axel insisted, “you were being ‘supervised’ by corrupt government agents.” Blaze closed her eyes and massaged the bridge of her nose. “This is all so crazy…So who’s giving Jerrin his orders?”

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Axel shook his head. “I don’t know yet, but whoever it is… I suspect is in control of everything. Some kind of Boss figure.” Axel came and sat opposite her. They each had a beer, and Axel took a sip. They were alone, and now that Blaze had showered, changed into some women’s clothes, and eaten, she looked a lot better. Like a completely different woman. She was extremely beautiful, her dark brown hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. She had a beauty spot positioned on her left cheek that complimented her brown eyes and red lips. “I can’t see how all this is related to my parents,” she said, “the intruders were just another tribe. I mean, their rafts had pictures of serpents with dog’s heads and things like that. They don’t resemble the federal government to me.” “Probably hired hands,” he told her. She took a long, hard gulp of her beer. Grimaced. She didn’t particularly like it, but sharing a beer with someone seemed important now. “That beer looks gone,” Axel said to her, “you want another one?” “Helps limber the tongue doesn’t it?” “Sometimes.” He went and got two fresh brews. Opened hers. Sat it before her. The beer was good and cold, a dark, yeasty ale. No label. Brewed here. They sipped in silence for a moment. The sun was beginning to set. “Looks like our date’s just about finished,” Blaze said. Axel smiled, and sighed a half-laugh. “Did you enjoy it?” “It was great,” she grinned. “What do you think?” “About what?” “I don’t know. About me. How was I?” Axel looked at her. “I’d say you’re not the most feminine creature that’s crossed my path. But, you know, you’re probably one that I could respect in the morning – so to speak.” She smiled tartly. “Bullshit. I can tell when a man fancies me, Axel.” “Sounds like you can tell when you fancy a man, too.” “The hard head takes a little cracking –” she looked away. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a while since I’ve felt that way. Probably turns you off.” His hand suddenly took hers. Although it was rough, it was warm, and it had a firmness and a purpose to it. “No. Not at all. I guess I’m just used to being the pursuer.” “Want to start over?” “No. I’m fine with the way it is.” He took his drink. He slowly and solidly got up. Pulled her to her feet. Brought himself up against her. She could feel herself melting against him. His arms went around her, and for once her mind could just drift away into nothingness and release. Their lips moved closer…closer…just centimetres away from each other. Blaze felt herself stirring… Suddenly, a knock at the door separated them. She pushed away from Axel, who seemed disappointed, and scuttled under the table. “Who is it?” Axel called. A woman’s voice said: “Sergeant Stone? My name is Caska Reine. I’m a security agent from Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital. I’m investigating a patient breakout that occurred earlier today.”

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“Fuck! It’s them!” Blaze whispered. Her pulse began to throb through her temples. “I’ll deal with it,” Axel whispered. He moved to open the door. Immediately, a uniformed woman shoved the barrel of a gun into his face, and pushed him back into the room. “Sergeant Stone,” the woman said. “What have you done with our property?” Axel pushed the gun barrel aside. “Point that thing someplace else!” “Hey, bitch!” screamed Blaze. “Here I am!” The woman spun round to face Blaze, and Axel seized his chance. He swung back and landed a fist on the woman’s jaw. It gave a crack and a string of blood flowed into the air. Blaze leapt in on her and they both landed on the floor in a heap. Blaze sat on the woman’s chest and punched down on her face several times, drawing more and more blood. Axel watched as she put her foot in the woman’s groin and spun back, hurling the bitch into the wall. Unconscious, the woman fell to the ground. Axel picked up the pistol. “Let’s move,” he told her, “we’re not safe here anymore.” They ran to the door, but four more hospital officials stopped them. Axel pointed the gun and fired. A bullet shot into each one’s head. The officials fell to the ground in unison. “Where the fuck are we going?” Blaze screamed as he took her hand. “I don’t know,” he answered. They ran down flights of stairs. Another hospital official was there. Axel wasted no time. As soon as the guy was in view, he leapt up and booted him in the head with a kind of vertical kick. The guy flung over the rail and fell down the next flight of stairs. They continued to run.

Outside, Adam screeched to a halt at the sidewalk in a dark-coloured, unmarked truck. “Let’s go! Come on!” Adam cried, and booted open the passenger door. Axel helped Blaze inside, then climbed in himself, slamming the shut behind him. “Punch it!” Axel shouted. Adam hit the accelerator, and the truck screeched to life onto the road, joining the nearest freeway down into central LA. The palm trees on either side blurred to a mass of green and brown as Adam accelerated to a steady 130mph. Blaze looked back through the window. Behind them, some hospital officials were giving chase in a black Mercedes. “We’ve got company!” Blaze screamed. In the wing mirrors, Axel could see one of them pointing a gun out the side window, and then the back window of the truck crashed apart as a bullet struck. The road was levelling out as it dropped down into the city. Blaze was shrieking uncontrollably. The road twisted still, going into a sharp bend just ahead. Hold on, Adam thought. He gave the truck as much gas as he could, hearing another scream and whine of bullets as the other car drew alongside the truck. He screeched the wheel sideways and rammed the other car, forcing it off the road, where it slid down a short embankment. One step completed, but he knew they’d get back on the road and come after them again. He glanced in the side mirror. Yeah, sure enough. They were slithering back up from the incline, reversing across the road, straightening, coming after them.

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Adam shoved the gas pedal to the floor. Give me all you’ve got! he thought, and then they were on the outskirts of the city, the other car immediately behind them. City streets: a different ball game. A trader’s market. He drove quickly through it, ignoring Blaze’s curses, sending punks and people flying, turning over stalls, baskets, fruit, and scattering animals in their way. Pedestrians scurried into doorways as they roared through; then they were threading even more narrow streets and alleys. A man fell from a stepladder. The other car had given up the chase. They drove into a dark alleyway and Adam brought the truck to a wheezing halt. “Time is running out,” Axel said. “We need to act now.”

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8 Kiss from a Rose

Adam drove Axel and Blaze down to a derelict packing warehouse on the edge of Panorama City. Apparently the place hadn’t been used for decades, and it showed too. The place stunk of mould and mildew, of the water dripping through cracks and holes in the roof. Cobwebs were everywhere and it only had a few working, buzzing strip lights to illuminate the whole building. The warehouse was stacked from floor to ceiling with large empty crates, and there were also several forklift trucks laying around, rusting away with time. “We’ll be safe here,” Axel said as they leapt out of the truck. “Not for long though,” Blaze answered, “they’ll find us. I’m sure of it.” She walked into the main room and leapt up onto a crate, sitting down. That felt good. She was exhausted. Adam waved, getting back into the truck. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” he said, “I’m gonna get back to the station, and buy us some more time.” He slammed the door and settled in comfortably. One minute later the warehouse was filled with a cloud of exhaust as the truck carried Adam off. “How did he know we were being attacked?” Blaze asked, scratching her leg. “It seemed a bit of a coincidence that he turned up at that precise moment.” Axel leapt up on the crate beside her. It creaked with the strain of their combined weight. “Adam was watching the apartment from afar, just in case things got hairy,” Axel said, putting his hand on her leg. “Don’t worry, we know what we’re doing. We’ve dealt with crazies like this before. But for now, Blaze Fielding, the day is over.” She yawned. “I’m exhausted.” Then Axel grabbed her chin. The grip on her chin tightened, and she was drawn closer toward him. His other hand went to her throat, skimming the smooth skin, descending to the base of her neck, where a pulse throbbed with unnatural rapidity, then, leaving that spot, it slipped into her shirt to touch a bare shoulder. As the hand moved on her body, sending shock waves through her system, Blaze had to battle to hold rational thought. “You’re not afraid to touch me,” Blaze whispered. A tongue went out to moisten dry lips. She had no chance to draw away from him, and as his arm tightened about her and his lips moved upwards from the base of her throat, slowly, sensually, she had no wish to. There was only the desire to be closer… Kisses danced over her face light, yet seductively tantalising. At length his mouth settled on hers, and the lightness vanished as her lips parted beneath his. She was making a contented mewling sound now, like a kitten, and her arms went around

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him, her mouth wide open to the kiss, her tongue sinuous and slippery as it twined around his. At some point he must have opened the buttons of his shirt, so that when he pushed up her shirt and pulled her back to him, the touch of the bare muscled chest sent a ripple of excitement through her soft breasts. It took all the energy she had left to pull her tongue free of his mouth and stand up. “No,” she said, pulling her shirt back down. “Axel, I do like you and everything, but this is wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this. I’m sorry. I guess I’m just…not ready for that kind of commitment.” Axel watched her as she hopped up onto the opposite crate. “Don’t take it so hard,” she said, and looked to the floor. “I just…can’t.” “I understand,” Axel sighed. They sat in silence for a moment. “We need to do something…” Blaze said. “Yeah,” Axel replied. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.” “Oh?” she queried. “Yeah,” Axel said. “The information I’ve gathered so far on this case has been taken from various online sources, that trace back to Edgemont hospital’s central computer system…” “Right….” “Well,” he said enthusiastically, “if we can break into their systems from the inside, we should be able to recover a lot more data, and evidence that should help us.” “Right,” she smiled, “but, how the fuck are we gonna do that? Just stroll back in there like we own the place?” “Easy,” Axel said, “I’ll get hold of some uniforms, some ID cards… maybe grab some weapons from the station, just in case, and we should be able to infiltrate the building without arousing suspicion.” “It’s risky,” Blaze sighed. “That it is, but do you want to find out who killed your parents or not?” “Yes. And the reasons why.” “Precisely. Besides, if we try to hack into their systems directly, the computer will automatically sense an outside presence. Breaking in physically is the only way to go.” “Well, what are we waiting for?” Blaze smiled. “I’ll get right on it,” Axel said, leaping to the ground. “You should be safe here until I get back. I’m afraid I can’t just haul you into the police station with me, since I’m operating outside of official jurisdiction here…” She looked nervous, and vulnerable. “Look,” Axel said, “tell you what. Stay here, but if trouble starts to brew, then head for my apartment.” He glanced at his watch. “I won’t be a couple of hours. Take this just in case.” He threw her a pistol. “The gun’s fully loaded for any close encounters.” She took it. “I’ve never used a gun before.” “Look, safety’s here. Pull this to cycle a round into place. Trigger’s here. It’s easy. You’ll pick it up.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be back to get you.” He left.

***

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Blaze sat in the warehouse, all alone. It was spooky. She looked down at the pistol. Fucking thing, she thought. She knew she wouldn’t be using it. Axel would be back soon anyway. Still, she was nervous just the same. The door burst open, light illuminating millions of particles of dust. Ah, she thought. Here he is now. “Axel?” she called. A man burst in, wearing a hospital uniform, carrying a machine gun, and it was not Axel. Blaze grabbed the pistol. She had no idea what to do with it except pull the trigger. She flipped behind the crate. The guy walked right in, obviously looking for her. Blaze glanced down at the pistol. How did the thing work? Axel’s little tutorial had gone right over her head… There was a funny looking black thing poking out from the handle. Perhaps that was it. She pulled hard on it, and the thing came out, spilling twenty bullets all over the floor. “Oh, fuck!” she whispered. She began picking them up again and shoved them back into the clip. How inexperienced she was! The guy was coming toward her. Got it! She slammed the clip back into place and pointed the gun at the oncoming man. Only one chance, she thought, and pulled the trigger, expecting fire. Fuck! Damn! Nothing had happened. Then she remembered from when she was in the hospital, in a movie she had watched, you had to – She cocked the gun, wincing as the bullet clicked into position. The guy was coming straight for her now. Blam! The blast was so powerful it blew her back into the crate, knocking it over into a large stack of crates that stretched up to the roof. Blaze didn’t have time to think. The stack of crates was wobbling, and then it happened. The crates lost balance. Blaze ran, leaping over the fallen guy, and leapt to safety just inches clear of disaster as the crates smashed down and blew dust into the air which violated her lungs. She choked until the dust was clear. Then she heard sirens in the distance. Getting louder. Time to depart.

***

The apartment was empty. Blaze didn’t really expect to find anyone there; it was too soon after the previous incident, and it wasn’t like she’d come back a few hours later. But she did. What she hadn’t expected, however, and what frightened her, was the destruction. She stood on the threshold, one hand absently rubbing her arm, a faint chill slipping across the back of her neck. Although she couldn’t hear it, she swore she could feel the wind pummelling the place, could feel the building’s weight settling on her shoulders.

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The notion made her angry, but she couldn’t shake it off. Fuck me, she thought, and placed a weary hand over her eyes. The mattress had been sliced open in a score of places, the stuffing strewn across the floor; the desk was overturned, one leg snapped off; the chair was little more than splinters. The painting on the wall had been yanked off and shredded. In it’s place, scrawled in black letters: I’m looking for you.

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9 The Truth is Out There

Axel had done his job well. Not only had he counterfeited those ID cards, but he’d managed to sneak into a supply closet and secure two of the hospital’s uniforms. They actually fit well, too. “The deal is this,” Axel said as they strode past the open outer gates of the hospital, past security operatives, the full moon at their backs, the brisk cool smell of midnight settling down on them. “If we get caught inside the perimeter, we tell them we’re authorised by Dr. Jerrin.” “And if we make it through to the other part, but get caught then?” “We run. We go back and grab beer cans. I didn’t want to involve Adam in this actual operation – we need him back at the station to cover our asses – but I don’t feel bad having him back us up.” “I suggest that we just not get caught,” Blaze whispered, “and most certainly not use our weapons.” “I like to have one on hand, though.” Axel had prepared tiny stasis generators to cancel out any weapons-detection device, and again Blaze was impressed and grateful for his varied talents. She felt far more comfortable armed, even though she had virtually no experience with guns. The news that she’d be able to wear a machine gun on this mission was especially welcome. They walked past the posted guard with just a flash of their fake IDs. Security officers were not as numerous as Blaze had expected. Much of the security was automated. Shifts were apparently changing, and stragglers from the previous shift were just making their way home. They appeared to be normal workers, looking forward to a night’s sleep. The shift they were infiltrating, on the other hand, had far fewer workers, who were clearly far less industrious. The few people they encountered did not seem at all upset about the pair of new employees in their ranks. Blaze just hoped to God that nobody recognised her. The departments probably assumed Axel and Blaze were headed for sections other than theirs. And of course, they were totally correct. Axel had briefed her on the layout of the hospital in descriptive enough terms that Blaze was able to wend her way knowledgeably through it, acting as though she had a definite mission, not goggling about like the first-timer she was. Nonetheless, she allowed Axel to lead slightly and used her vision to take note of the stations and activity around her. Tanks. There were tanks of stainless steel and glass, connected by tubing all around, with conduits and flanges and wheels. There were lab stations and racks of chemicals and equipment. It looked more like a research centre than a psychiatric hospital… “So, what now?” “Down this hallway here.”

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They waited until there was no one around. This time there was no pretence of who was leading and who was following. Axel went first. They moved down a corridor that eventually bent to the south. Doors linked either side. “Storage rooms,” Axel explained. “Open and innocuous.” “As far as I can tell.” The hallway was totally deserted. “This, though, was what I was telling you about – down here at the end of the hall.” Another slant to the hall, and they were there. Blaze was taken aback. At the end of the hall was a round vault-like door of hard, shiny alloy. It was more than apparently extremely locked. The vault was guarded, two troopers sitting down in a couple of plastic chairs. “That’s it,” Axel whispered, “their central computer system.” “How the fuck do we get in there without raising the alarm?” she asked. Axel nodded at her. “I’ve got an idea.”

Blaze, naked, stepped around the corner where the two men on the chairs could see her. “Jesus Christ,” one of the men said. “Check this out.” Blaze smiled, wet her fingertip with her tongue, and touched her left nipple so it pebbled up and grew hard. She gasped, and whispered, “Please, I need you to fuck me – are you going to fuck me?” Then she stepped back out of sight. “Hey,” one of the guards said, “wait up honey!” “You crazy?” the second one said. “Mr. X will chew you a new asshole if he catches you gone.” “It’ll only take a minute,” he answered. “Mr. X –” the second one began. “Fuck Mr. X!” the first guard said. “Nah,” the second guard said, “I’m with you. I’d rather fuck her. Come on, let’s go fuck the bitch.” The two guards jogged round toward where Blaze had disappeared. When they rounded the corner, they saw her standing there, legs spread wide, arms open, a big smile. How could men be so stupid? she wondered. Did they really believe that a woman who’d never even met them would be so overcome with lust at the sight of them that she’s strip to the skin and beckon to them, all wet and ready? Apparently so. The two guards moved toward her, already dropping gear and untabbing their overalls. Axel stepped out behind them and bopped each on the head with the grip of his gun. Both men fell, out before they hit the floor. Axel smiled and said, “get dressed.” Blaze obeyed. ***

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As she finished buttoning her shirt, Blaze asked, “what does the sensor perceive?” “It’s an alloy it can’t get past.” “Hmmm. But do you think we can pick this lock?” “Oh, yes. It’s an electronic locking device and I made sure to bring a probe.” He held up a long metal device. “Looks like a fucking coat hanger.” “I’m sure it could be used as such. In any case, by inserting it into this aperture here –” he did just that – “I can change polarities and reroute electrical flows in such a way as to cancel out the necessity for codes and thus gain access.” “In other words, we can get through.” “Precisely. Nobody coming?” She looked around. “No. Problem is – there could be someone inside.” “True – however, shifts are changing, and an entry would be presumed to be authorised. We can take a quick look.” “Sounds good to me.” She was happy there wasn’t much security around at this time. And why should there be? None of the patients were going to get into the central computer system were they? However, they hadn’t reckoned on a talented cop picking their locks. Axel did his stuff, slipping the device in. Blaze heard a few clicks and whirs and then watched Axel’s concerned expression change to one of relief. “There we go. That should do it.” He stood and pulled a latch. The door opened. Blaze leapt into action, helping Axel pull the hatchway open with the minimum of noise. It eased back as though it had just been oiled. Blaze peered into the next room. It was a long, narrow chamber that stretched off for some distance. Along both sides was a continuous row of computer terminals, keyboards, and screens. It was amazing when you considered it was all just used for a psychiatric hospital’s records… The lighting was quite low, the dominant colours being deep reds and lambent yellows. In the distance was the quiet sound of voices, yet this part of the long chamber seemed absolutely deserted. Axel wasted no time. He ran to the main console and waved his hand over the sensor. Immediately a list of patients’ names came up on the screen before him. Blaze was there: BLAZE FIELDING

STATUS: MISSING

FILE#1098321

Axel pushed buttons. His typing was considerably fast. A few seconds passed before another screen flashed before their eyes:

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WARNING THIS SCRIPT/COMPGEN RECORDING IS/ARE CLASSIFIED MILITARY DOCUMENTS AND REQUIRE A CLEARANCE OF A-1/A FOR READING/VIEWING. PENALTIES FOR ILLEGAL USES OF THIS/THESE DOCUMENT(S) MAY INCLUDE A FINE OF UP TO $100,000 AND/OR IMPRISONMENT IN A FEDERAL JAIL FOR MAXIMUM 20 YRS. CONTINUE (Y/N)? _

Axel looked at Blaze, concerned. “Do it!” she said eagerly. Axel hit the ‘Y’ key, and another screen dropped into view: BLAZE FIELDING:FILE#1098321

INITIAL COMMIT: 08/09/2005 REASON FOR COMMIT: MURDER, MANSLAUGHTER MEDICATION COURSE: TRIAZOLAM, HARIPERIDOL DIAGNOSIS: PARANOID SCHIZOPHRENIA RECOMM. RELEASE: 08/09/2010

--CHANGE ORDER REG.#9623 (17/02/2006) AUTHORISED BY: MR. X FEDERAL ORDER: DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES RELEASE THIS PATIENT. CONTINUE NEW MEDICATION COURSE. DR. SIMON JERRIN TO BE ASSIGNED. SIGNED MR. X

GXetheus – GOVERNMENT OFFICIAL STATE 730/CCO”

Blaze stared at the screen. “Fuck me,” she whispered. “Now we’re getting somewhere,” Axel said, “but it still doesn’t explain much.” “Well,” Blaze said, “At least it gives us a name. That’s something to go on, isn’t it? Print it.” Axel inputted a command. There was a whirring sound, and a piece of paper emerged from a narrow slot in the terminal. Axel grabbed it, folded it into four and pocketed it. “Time to depart,” he said. “In fact, I hope it’s not too –” 127

A siren started to sound. “Late!” “Go! Go!” They tore away, heading back toward the door they had entered. They were just pulling it open when the two guards rounded the corner about thirty yards away. “Halt!” Yeah, right, thought Blaze, or you’ll shoot. They didn’t halt, of course. They dived through the opening and began running, Blaze hoping against hope they hadn’t been recognised. This would certainly take some explaining…Well, Dr. Jerrin, I was just looking for the ladies’ room… They were out into the main section of the hospital and still running when the other troop of security came around the other corner, cutting them off. They dived behind a tank, not pausing for a moment, but scurrying away like pursued rats in a maze. “Alternative exit?” asked Blaze. “Yes. Follow me.” Axel ran down another aisle, the end of which was a door. With absolutely no ceremony or precaution, he banged against the door, pushing on the latch simultaneously…hurling himself onto the outside. Blaze followed. They were outside now, in some sort of empty parking lot. Beyond that was a perimeter fence, and beyond that a gate yawned open invitingly. They ran for it. “Stop!” screamed someone from behind them. “Run ahead of me,” said Axel, positioning himself between her and the pursuers. “I can take bullets a lot better than you can.” “Thanks,” she puffed. There were explosions behind them, and the whizzing of fired ammunition to their sides and over their heads. Something blasted to the left. An incendiary impact nearly tore them off their feet. “What the fuck are they shooting at us?” said Blaze. “Nothing good I promise you. Hurry, we’re almost through the gate.” She put on a burst of speed, her attention fixed on her goal. Another spray of bullets whined past her. “Over there – that car. That’s our only hope,” said Axel. They raced over. It was a four-wheeler, open. They hopped in. There was no key. Axel, looking back, reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, thin metal object, which he slotted into the car’s ignition. The car kicked to life. “Now go,” said Axel. “Go!” She pushed the car into drive. “I’ve never driven a car before!” she said. Bullets ripped into the side of the car. “Fuck me!” she screamed, and pushed on the accelerator and got the hell out of there. She zoomed off into the night, headlights flicking on. Off and away, escaping. But to where? crashed the thought inside her head. To where?

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10 Nowhere to Run

Dawn crept up warily on the horizon. By its new, thin light Blaze Fielding cupped her hands and dipped them into the river. She drank. The water was cool and sweet. She’d tasted it early, by the light of the moon, and it had tasted even better then. She looked up into the sky, as though expecting company at any moment. Nothing. No choppers or skimmers or any of the other number of airborne vehicles that could be pursuing them. She sighed and stood up. Her back was stiff, but otherwise the couple hours’ rest had been fine. They couldn’t go back to Axel’s apartment or the warehouse. They’d probably be swarming with cops and hospital officials by now. She walked back up to where the four-wheel-drive was sequestered, in a bowerlike assemblage of riverside and trees. Here it was nearly hidden from sight…but, then, who knew if there were other ways of detecting it? Axel lay in the passenger seat of the car, head back, dozing. Her shadow fell over him and he woke up. “How ya doin’ short stuff?” he said. “All right.” Axel winked at her. “So now what?” Blaze said, kicking at a can that was half-buried in the mud. “What do you think? Shall we keep going in this thing?” “If speed is what you want then we should, but it is risky.” “Yeah, they’re bound to have copters out looking for us now.” “Not necessarily. Wouldn’t that be admitting that there was some sort of secret they were keeping?” “No. All they have to do is claim we were snoopers for some rival company. Fuck, I’m sure they’re well within legal rights to seek us out and kill us.” “Or they can cover up.” “So the question remains.” She thought about the issue for a moment. Decided. “They must be watching. They know we’re here.” She looked ahead. “Can’t we get back into the city?” “We could try.” “Well, it’s better than staying here,” she said. Axel leapt out of the car and landed at her heels. “All right, we’ll go,” he said, “but we need to be very careful.” “You still got that print-out?”

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“I’ve still got it, don’t worry,” he reassured her. He led her past the trees and down the hill.

It did not take long for them to reach the outskirts of the city. In fact, it only took about fifteen minutes. They turned into an alleyway, stepping over damp water pipes that stretched between buildings. The morning city was cold, and a chilling breeze blew through the air. It would stay like this until the marine layer burned off. They could hear distant police sirens. Axel sat down on one of the damp pipes, needing a rest. “Well, we’ve reached the city of Los Angeles,” he puffed. “I’m starting to remember why I drive everywhere in this place.” Blaze came and sat down beside him. “Thankyou,” she whispered. Axel looked confused. “What for?” “For helping me. For being there when I need you.” She broke into tears. “Hey,” Axel sighed, and hugged her. “It’s alright. Come on, Blaze.” She sniffed and looked up at him. He smiled, and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Axel,” she said. “No-one’s ever been this nice to me. No-one’s ever really wanted to help.” She looked into his eyes. “I…I love you, Axel.” Axel smiled. “I think I love you too, Blaze.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. Blaze sighed. “My life’s been nothing but pain and suffering. Not even my dreams let me escape. But since I met you…the dreams have stopped. I’ve been able to sleep in peace.” She shook her head. “You’ve no idea what that means to me. I feel alive for the first time in my life – and I owe it all to you.” Axel put his hand on her arm. “I’m not going to leave you, Blaze. I’m going to stay with you ‘till the end.” She smiled through her tears.

“We’d better get moving,” Axel said as he peered around the corner. “Yes,” Blaze said, shivering, “But where are we, exactly?” Axel looked up and down the alley, listening to the police sirens that seemed to be getting closer. He couldn’t tell exactly where they were, but he knew they couldn’t stay here. The police sirens got louder. Blaze knew they were coming for her. “Axel?” she said. “In here,” Axel whispered, putting his fingers in the grip holes of a manhole cover. He pulled the cover off, revealing a ladder leading down to the sewer beyond. “Fuck this!” Blaze said. “You’re not suggesting…?” “Got any better ideas?” Axel asked, sweat running from his forehead. He reached into his jean pocket and brought out a small torch-like device. He shone it down the manhole. “What for…? I mean…” “It’s our only option,” Axel insisted. “If we stay here, the cops’ll be onto us in no time. At least we can pass through undetected this way. We gotta go for it.”

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Blaze shrugged. “Okay.” She twirled round and grabbed the rungs of the ladder. They were slick with dampness, but, then, what did she expect? She climbed down speedily into the darkness. Axel followed, closing the manhole cover over the entrance. The clang of it slotting into place echoed throughout the sewer. Immediately the stench of the place assailed his nostrils. Axel shone his torch down the empty tunnel. “Let’s go,” he said, and led her on.

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11 Basic Instinct

The sewer stunk of human waste, the trapped odours of years of silence and darkness, the damp flowing around pipes and along the floor. Water dripped from the ceiling, slithering through the mosses that had grown there. The passageway whispered with the scampering of rodent claws. And the air – the air was unexpectedly cold, untouched by sunlight, forever shaded. Axel walked ahead of Blaze, listening to the echoes of their footsteps. Alien sounds, he thought. After a while, they stopped for a rest. “We can’t go on like this,” Blaze said and slumped to the ground. The floor was damp beneath her, but it eased the strain on her feet. “What do you mean?” Axel sighed, sitting down next to her. “What do you think I mean?” she exclaimed, her voice echoing through the passageway. “This whole fugitive business… being on the run. It’s really starting to piss me off! Why can’t those bastards leave me alone? I haven’t done anything to deserve this…!” “Hey,” Axel gently rubbed her forearm. “Ease down, ease down. We know they’re hiding something from us. We’ve just got to find out what it is – then we can expose them for the low-life criminal scum that they are. We just have to be patient right now, and figure out what to do next…” He reached into his pocket and brought out the printed document. Blaze took it, and started reading it through. “We should be safe down here, for the moment anyway,” Axel said, looking around the sewer. He frowned. “It’s not exactly the Four Seasons, I know, but it’ll have to do…” “Mr. X,” she read out loud, “Who is that?” “It’s signed ‘G Xetheus’,” Axel observed. “That’s George Xetheus, the US Senator for California. The guy who has managed to hold on to his seat since the 1980s. He’s a very powerful political figure…” “That doesn’t sound very democratic,” Blaze said, raising her eyebrows. “No, it isn’t,” Axel agreed. “and from the looks of things, he’s the guy we’ve been looking for. Seems the order to keep you locked in that hospital came from Xetheus himself.” “I still don’t understand. Why?” Axel shook his head. “I don’t know, but I smell a rat. It would seem that this… Mr. X… is also the Boss of the criminal Syndicate that Adam and I have been looking for, ever since we busted open the Blue Swan three years ago.” “Blue Swan?” “Yeah, a criminal gang over in Long Beach. Their leader, Lucius Hawk, spoke of a crime Syndicate that was entrenched in the highest levels of government. Damn, I need to speak to Adam about this…”

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Blaze nodded, and there was evidence of a smile on her lips. “We’re finally getting somewhere.” “The thing I want to know is,” Axel began, “how could you possibly be so much of a threat to these guys? I mean, they’ve gone to all this trouble to re-capture you, but you’re only a twenty-two year-old girl – an innocent victim.” “We’ll find the truth,” Blaze said, “We’ve come this far.” Axel nodded, and yawned. It was quiet, and nobody was going to be catching them down here for a long time. They sat facing each other, and Blaze rubbed her hand against the hard muscles in Axel’s arm, feeling the smoothness of it. His strength appealed to her, it made her feel safe. “Axel,” she said, “that’s a nice name. I like it.” “Thanks,” he smiled. “I like your name, too, Blaze. How did you get it?” Her smile vanished. “Oh,” Axel whispered. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to –” “It’s alright,” she said, running her fingers along his arm. “I don’t mind. In fact I’d like to talk about it; get it off my chest…” Axel nodded. “The truth is,” she told him, “I have no idea what my real name is. After my folks died, apparently I was in so much shock that the only word I could say was ‘Blaze’. That’s how I got this name. My second name means ‘attacker’ in tribal dialect, as in ‘attacker of children’. People thought I was a monster.” Axel’s hand moved and rested on her thigh. “Then, in the hospital, the dreams began to haunt me. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia and fed mind-altering drugs…I soon lost touch with reality; I couldn’t tell the difference between my dreams and the waking world. When I was in that state…” She paused for a moment, catching breath. “The orderlies took advantage of me…they abused me.” Axel swallowed. “Blaze, if you don’t mind me asking…” She shook her head. “What is it?” “How come you never got pregnant?” She smiled. “The drugs. In particular, a drug called ‘Triazolam’, or ‘Fire’ as Deedee called it. Dr. Jerrin knew that I was infertile. That’s why he raped me so much.” “Must’ve been painful for you…all those years of torment.” “Yes. Before you rescued me I…almost killed myself; I was going to jump from a balcony. Luckily, I didn’t. I found you instead.” She smiled at him. “I love you. But, I hardly know you. Tell me about yourself.” Axel laughed. “There’s not much to tell.” Blaze took his hand in her own. “Please.” “Well, if you insist. Where to start? I grew up in Long Beach… My parents owned a dōjō there, you see, and that’s where I learned to fight. Sadly, the place was burned to the ground, and my father murdered, by the Blue Swan gang I told you about earlier. It’s what made me want to become a cop… to bring down those bastards responsible… so I eventually graduated from high school and became a cop at the age of eighteen. My mom died the day I graduated from police academy, so the only family I have left now is my sister, Tina.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents. But you’re still very lucky to have a sister, Axel. The only family I’ve known are the people at

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Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital, and believe me, there is no love in that place. I have nobody.” “You have me,” Axel said. For a moment Blaze was silent. “I know,” Blaze said. She reached up with both hands and caught his face. It was smooth, his stubble depilated so close that his skin felt softer than her own. She urged her mouth to his, kissed him. He drew away, and said, “Blaze, back in the warehouse – why didn’t you want to, you know, go further?” She smiled and sighed a half-laugh. “I don’t know. I guess I felt vulnerable; it’s very easy for a man to take advantage of me. It’s like I said, I …just…wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment.” Cautiously, Axel took his hand away from her thigh. Blaze noticed his predicament. She smiled. “It’s alright, Axel.” She took his hand. “That was then. This is now.” She placed his hand on her thigh. “Touch me.” Her eyes closed as he stroked her. “I love you, Axel,” she said. “Kiss me.” Axel lowered his face to hers, and seemed to catch the rounded curve of her lips exactly into his, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle; though he didn’t hold her or touch her elsewhere she felt locked to him and let her head follow as he leaned back, drawing her forward onto his chest. His hands came up to clasp her head, the better to work at that dizzying, amazingly responsive mouth, drain it. Sighing, he abandoned himself to nothing else, at home at last with those silky baby’s lips finally fitting his own. Her arm slid around his neck, quivering fingers sank into his hair, the palm of her other hand coming to rest on the smooth brown skin at the base of his throat, and now he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Not releasing her head, he kissed her cheeks, her closed eyes, the curving bones of the orbits beneath her brows, came back to her cheeks because they were so sanity, came back to her mouth because its infantile shape drove him mad, had driven him mad since the first day he saw her. And there was her throat, the little hollow at its base, the skin of her shoulder so delicate and cool and dry… “Fuck me,” Blaze whispered, “Axel, I want you to fuck me.” Powerless to call a halt, he removed one hand from her head and plucked at the long row of buttons down the front of her shirt, slid it off her obedient arms, then the straps of her loose bra. Face buried between neck and shoulder, he passed the tips of his fingers down her bare back, feeling her startled shivers, the sudden hard points to her breasts. He pushed his face lower in a blind, compulsive touch-search of one cold, cushioned surface, lips parted, pressing down, until they closed over taut ruched flesh. His tongue lingered for a dazed moment, then his hands clutched in agonising pleasure on her back and he kissed, sucked, nipped, sucked…it was so good, good, gooooood! He did not cry out, only shuddered for a wrenching, drenching moment, and swallowed in the depths of his throat. Like a satiated nurseling, he let the nipple pop out of his mouth, formed a kiss of boundless love and gratitude against the side of her breast, and lay utterly still except for the heaves of his breathing. He could feel her mouth in his hair, her hand down inside his shirt, feeling. Groping, he pulled at her jeans, slid them off, followed by her panties, then pulled at her buttocks and made her lie on top of him, then seized the other nipple

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between his teeth, feeling the hidden point swell and harden on his tongue. A great passion for him had taken possession of Blaze; what ridiculous creatures men were, grunting and sucking and straining for all they got out of it. He was becoming more excited, kneading her back and buttocks. His hips began to move in a rhythmic, jerky fashion. “Fuck me,” she moaned, “Fuck me.” He slipped his manhood through her wet dark hair, spreading her vaginal lips, and sprawled across him as she was, she felt the tip of his penis slip into her vagina. She forced the penis in, teeth clenched, moaning. “Yes! Fuck me!” His tongue moved lightly over her nipples and she gasped with lust. While he kissed her his hands ran down her back and over her wet glistening buttocks. She gasped and moaned, unable to resist the orgasms as they shuddered through her. “Oh!” she cried. “Oh, yes! Yes!” Her passion was so deep and almost violent as they slithered against each other. Panting. Groaning. Grunting. “You’re fucking me!” she cried. “You’re fucking me!” Her breasts were covered in sweat, nipples sliding against his chest, and she closed her eyes as he pulsed through her. She pushed her lips to his as he clasped her breasts, her nipples in his palms. Her teeth clenched as he slid in and out of her vagina, suddenly thudding against her as he shot through her body. Blaze cried out as she rocked back and forth, sweat running between her breasts, down her chest. She felt him thrusting between her open thighs, releasing his fluids. She gasped, reaching orgasm herself. Her face was flushed, her eyes closed as she bit her lip and groaned under the sensations. He watched in amazement as her body buckled under the strength of an orgasm brought on by emotions alone. She threw her head back in a silent cry of pleasure and then, opening her eyes again, reached to pull him to her. “I love you,” she whispered. He didn’t resist, flattered and excited by the look in her half-closed eyes. She could hardly breathe…and after another moment, she didn’t worry about breathing anymore… Afterward, Blaze and Axel lay in a tangle of arms and legs. She was sweaty and her pulse had slowed some, but she wasn’t tired, just…fulfilled. There had been others. Even in a hospital, they couldn’t watch you all the time, and Blaze had been with a male patient once, and another time an orderly, but nothing like this. It had never felt so good, seemed so right, been so joyous as this linking with Axel. Axel smiled. “I’m going to be honest with you. I’ve only ever done this once before.” She smiled too. “Really? Could have fooled me. You were terrific.” “Was I?” “Well, not that I have many guys to compare you to myself, but, yeah, you were okay.” He laughed softly. “Good. I wanted to be terrific, Blaze, for you. I – well, I love you, Blaze.” She drank it in, the feeling, the touching, what he said. Yes. She’d been waiting her whole life for this, had never really expected it to happen for somebody like her. But here it was. “I’m glad. I love you, too, Axel. I just hope we get out of this alive.”

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***

Blaze was putting her bra back on over her tender breasts when a sudden vibration rocked her hard enough to knock her from her feet. She hit the wall and bounced off, managed to land on her butt without doing any damage. Axel absorbed the rocking with his legs and stayed up. “What the hell?” Axel said, buttoning his shirt. “What was that?” Blaze asked, tying her bra and standing up. “I don’t know,” he said, “but it didn’t feel good, whatever it was…” Suddenly, the entire sewer pipe seemed to shudder and crumble. “What the fuck is going on?” screamed Blaze. Axel wished he knew. He didn’t have to wait long to find out, either.

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12 Capture

There was a rumbling sound, like fire. The left hand side of the tunnel was roaring alight! And the flames were blazing toward them at a horrific speed, burning out everything in its path. “Fuck!” Blaze screamed. In a few moments they would be burned alive!

They ran. They plunged through the sewer pipe when they heard the sound of the flames rip-roaring behind them. And then they were sprinting, as fast as they could back the way they had come. Blaze felt as if her legs would detach at any moment from the speed of her run. But she had to keep going. Run. Run even when you don’t have a goddamn scrap of energy left. Find something in reserve. Just run. They heard the flames shaft the air, whizzing, zinging, roaring, creating a melody of death. They ran in a zigzag, moving in a serpentine fashion through the sewer. From behind, Blaze could hear the bursting of pipes and the leaking of water. She sniffed, then realised – it wasn’t water! It was petroleum! Somebody had been pumping petroleum down here! Confused, she continued to run. She felt strangely detached all at once from her own body, she’d moved beyond a sense of her physical self, beyond the absurd demands of muscle and sinew, pushing herself through the sewer in a way that was automatic, a matter of basic reflex. She heard the squealing of rodents as the fire raged over them. Run, she kept thinking. Run until you can’t run any more, then run a little further. Don’t think, don’t stop. Running – she didn’t know for how long. Axel heard the distant sound of a car horn echo over the tunnel. The manhole! How far could it be now? He listened again to be certain and then moved in the direction of the sound. Quicker now, harder and faster. The sound was becoming clearer. The cars. They emerged from the pipe. There. They scrambled up the ladder, Axel going first, shoving the manhole cover upward and squinting in the sunlight of the day. He rolled onto the surface tarmac then reached down to pull Blaze out just as the flames roared beneath them and blasted up in a column of orange fury. They coughed smoke in the fresh air; it was a relief on the lungs to be out of that forbidding, burning place… “What the hell happened there?” Blaze coughed.

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“I’m not sure,” Axel winced, pain issuing from a torn muscle in his shoulder. “It must’ve taken some organising though… someone must have seen us going down there.” Suddenly, before they could recover, a man pulled Axel up from the ground and pointed a pistol into his chin. The other arm came for Blaze – She rolled out of the man’s reach and looked up at his face. “Jerrin!” she screamed. He was holding Axel tightly around the neck, the other hand pointing the gun into his temple. “Don’t move, bitch!” he shouted. He pushed the gun harder into Axel’s head. Axel was going dizzy at the man’s tight clamp around his neck. “One move and I’ll blow a hole through your boyfriend’s brain!” Blaze stood still; she didn’t know what to do. “Dr. Jerrin!” she screamed, “Motherfucker! What are you doing!?” “Now, Blaze,” Jerrin said, “watch your language.” Blaze’s eyes narrowed. “Shut up, you bastard! Why are you doing this to me? Why? What have I done to deserve this? Answer me!” Jerrin cocked the gun on Axel’s head, and Blaze shut up. “That’s better,” Jerrin answered. “You know, Blaze, I’m going to miss all those romantic evenings we had together.” “Shut up.” “Oh, that’s right,” Jerrin laughed, “there was no romance involved now, was there? You were powerless to resist as I fucked you.” He laughed. “Those were the days weren’t they, my dear. I fucked you like the worthless slut that you are. Face it, Blaze, you are a worthless slut.” Tears began to form in Blaze’s eyes. “Donovan,” Jerrin nodded to his left. A thug with heavy muscles stepped into view. “Now, Blaze,” said Jerrin, “I’m afraid you must die. My Boss is ever so stubborn about these things.” He turned to the thug. “Kill her, then you may do with her as you wish.” The thug, Walter Donovan, moved in. Blaze stood opposite him, adopting a judo stance, preparing for his first move. She looked back desperately at Jerrin and Axel, saw they were getting into a dark car. “Bring me her skull when you’ve finished,” Jerrin spat. “I could do with a new desk ornament.” The car sped off. “Motherfucker!” Blaze hissed. Donovan threw a fist, which hit Blaze in the face, knocking her several feet through the air and to the ground. She moaned, said something under her breath, rolled onto her back, and could taste blood pouring from the inside of her mouth. God, that was a hard punch! Donovan approached again, this time thrusting his steel toe-capped shoe into her mouth. She gasped, fell back in a pool of her own blood. A stinging, burning sensation came as her mouth filled with blood. She dribbled, trying to keep the bile from rising. “Fuck…” The thug lifted her to her feet, and smacked his head into her chest. Something cracked, and she couldn’t breathe. She threw up. The liquid bile spilled all over Donovan’s denim jeans. He roared menacingly, said “bitch” between clenched teeth.

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Another punch. Blaze fell. Barely conscious, all she could do was open her eyes a little. She could see Donovan, standing over her, a knife held high in the air. She was finished. She couldn’t believe it. Axel had been captured, and now she was about to be killed. She closed her eyes, couldn’t bare to watch as the thug thrust the knife down… Blam! There was a crack of gunfire, and Blaze opened her eyes to see the thug fall down. Who the fuck? she thought. A dark figure came into view. It took a moment for Blaze’s eyes to focus through the pain. “Adam!” she smiled, relieved. He stood there with a stern look on his face, and blew the smoke rising from the barrel of his gun. “Sorry I couldn’t have got here earlier,” he told her, helping her to her feet. “The LAPD has been asked by Edgemont to help out with your capture, so I’ve been working my ass off trying to throw the other guys off the scent, without arousing too much suspicion…” She wiped the blood from her mouth, gagging. “You alright?” Adam asked. She shook her head. “Uh-uh.” “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll soon have you patched up. Where’s Axel?” She stared blankly into his face. “They took him.”

***

Blaze sat with Adam that night in his own home, where he patched up her wounds and gave her some basic firearms training. He also provided her with a stateof-the-art weapon, directly from the military. She picked up a feed ramp, stripped the receiver on her weapon and replaced the missing part. She snapped the connector into place and the ramp toggled through a diagnostic code and then clicked into place. She shoved a magazine into the carbine, touched the bolt control, and cycled a round into the firing chamber. The magazine’s counter showed ninety-nine antipersonnel rounds remaining. Blaze smiled. It was tight, but it felt a lot better. If the headshrinkers in the hospital could see her now, they’d really have something to worry about: good God, it’s a crazy woman with a gun! Damn straight. And if anybody gave her any shit, she was going to invite them onto the dance floor for a fast and deadly tattoo tango. Axel. She would go and find Axel and get him loose. He’d know how to handle this. And once she’d got Axel, they could expose Jerrin and Mr. X and get the hell out of this mess. Maybe it wasn’t the best plan in the universe but it would do for now. She hoped.

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13 Investigation

Simon Jerrin sat in his Los Angeles home, watching TV. He had the lights on dim, the image from his high-definition television set flickering in the darkness. Once he finished work every day, he liked to have his dinner, then watch a good porno movie on blu-ray with a nice, ice-cold beer at hand. He couldn’t think of a better way to unwind after a hard day’s work at the office – to him, this was a perfect evening. Jerrin was forty, single, and an employee of the federal government, who had been in Mr. X’s pocket for some years now. He’d been planted as a doctor at Edgemont, the corrupt psychiatric hospital, ever since Blaze Fielding had first been admitted there, way back in 2005. For ten years he had handled the affairs of the crazy woman, working with the interests of the Syndicate at heart. It was tedious work, really, performing boring experiments, compiling reports to go back to the Syndicate, and he wasn’t even really sure what it was all in aid of, nobody really told him these things. Even so, the job did have its rewards – he managed to sneak into Blaze’s room at least three times a week and fuck her – not that he was supposed to, or that she ever wanted him to. That particular thought made him laugh. She had filed an official complaint once, claiming that he was raping her, but Jerrin had used his influence in the Syndicate to clear his name. No one had really believed her anyway – after all, she was a raving schizophrenic – but hey, she was a great fuck. And for ten years of his life he had made every effort to ensure that she did not escape the hospital. But she had… And Mr. X was really pissed off about that right now. Jerrin feared Mr. X, and rightly so. George Xetheus was enormously powerful, ruthless and evil. X had a lot of military power under his control, and, some said, even the President himself. Although Jerrin didn’t know the whole story, he had heard that X soon aimed to take over the city, maybe even the whole world after that… Only Jerrin and a few others knew that Mr. X was behind the destruction of Blaze’s village on Cocos Island – responsible for hundreds of deaths – and that this event was closely linked to his plans of domination. If that particular piece of information was ever exposed, George Xetheus would undoubtedly lose his place in the US Senate, and it was this position that was vital for X’s political plans… plans that would come to fruition when the time was right. Now, following Blaze’s ‘escape’, Mr. X had wanted Jerrin to kidnap the cop, Axel Stone, and bring him to him alive. Jerrin had done that. Now the cop was in the hands of X, and X showed no mercy. Not that it mattered now. Blaze Fielding was dead, finished off by one of his very own henchmen, Walter Donovan. Probably now, Donovan was playing some filthy sex game with Blaze’s corpse… Jerrin laughed out loud. He took a sip from his beer, started skipping chapters on his blu-ray disc. Bored, he switched it off, and calmly closed his eyes, ready for a good night’s sleep. He was snoring already…

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“Get up!” Jerrin felt the barrel of a gun shoved into the back of his head, and he woke up with a start. “Get up, Jerrin!” a voice said. He obeyed. He stood with his hands in the air as Blaze Fielding walked around the sofa and stood before him, hands on hips. Adam Hunter had the gun on his head, with his finger on the trigger. “Blaze,” Jerrin hissed, his eyes narrowing. “Indeed,” she said, “Dr. Jerrin, you tried to have me killed!” He smiled as Adam Hunter shoved the gun harder into his head. “Yes, I did, Blaze,” he said. He showed no fear. “Most unfortunate that you’re still alive. You worthless slut...” “Why?” Blaze asked. “You were trying to capture me before. Tell me why you’re now trying to kill me… or Adam here will blow your brains out.” “Well, I’m afraid that you’ve become… less than valuable to my employers,” Jerrin told her. “Your escape has changed certain things… and their interest in you has changed as a result. They’ve advised me that you’re better off dead now. But I’m not going to tell you any more than that. You don’t deserve to know any more.” Blaze drew a machete from a sleeve on her waist, and placed the gleaming blade to his neck. He swallowed, blinked, sweat beaded on his forehead. “Don’t think I won’t kill you, Jerrin. All I have to do is pull my wrist to the side, and your throat will be all over the chair. Now talk, or I’ll get nasty. Tell us about more the Syndicate, for starters…” Jerrin watched nervously as Adam came around and stood next to Blaze, pistol constantly aimed at his head. He clenched his jaw, refusing to say anything. “They’ll kill me if I talk…” Adam cocked the gun, pointing it to his lips. “Yeah? Well, we’ll kill you if you don’t talk, motherfucker. So talk, now!” Jerrin swallowed again. Blinked. Decided “Mr. X!” he blurted. “George Xetheus, the Senator, he… he’s in charge of everything. He’s the Syndicate Boss. He’s the one responsible for killing the villagers on Cocos Island, ordered for Blaze to be isolated. It’s all connected! It’s X that you want!” “Tell us something we don’t know,” Adam hissed, shoving the barrel between Jerrin’s teeth. “Like, why did X kill those villagers? What insane reasoning was behind that massacre?” Jerrin whimpered. “I… I don’t really know! They don’t tell me everything, dammit!” Adam looked at Blaze. “Let’s kill him,” he said. “No!” Jerrin screamed. “Then tell us where we can find this ‘Mr. X’,” Blaze demanded. “Alright! Alright! I’ll tell you! Just don’t kill me!” Blaze smiled. “Where is he?” “The Civic building, Downtown LA,” Jerrin told them. “The 19th floor, room 11.” “And where’s Axel?” “Mr. X has him.” Blaze glanced at Adam. “Can we trust this guy?” “Probably not, but what choice do we have?” Adam sighed. “We’ll kill him, just in case.”

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“No!!” Jerrin screamed. Blaze flipped her wrist to the right, slicing the man’s neck. Jerrin, still alive, coughed and spluttered, his motor functions becoming uncontrollable. His neck bubbled, his windpipe hanging out. “Put him out of his misery,” Blaze said, a distasteful look on her face. Adam shot him. There was silence. “So,” Blaze said, after a while, “Civic building, Downtown LA.” Adam kicked Jerrin’s body aside. “You sure you’re gonna be okay to face Mr. X alone? I could always come along, as backup…” Blaze shook her head. “This is way personal. You should stay here, and sort out this mess… Maybe find out who this ‘doctor’ Jerrin guy really is. Axel and I will deal with Mr. X. Thanks for your help…” She kissed him. Adam squeezed her shoulder, and nodded. “Good luck, Blaze” he said. For some strange reason, Blaze knew she was going to need it.

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14 Mr. X

Mr. X dismissed his secretary. He turned to Axel and said, “Your Blaze has proven quite adept. Seems she managed to get her hands on a couple of weapons and now she’s making a run for it.” Axel grinned. “That’s too bad. I hope that hasn’t upset your plan.” Mr. X was a large man, dark skinned, black hair, wearing a suit. He pulled his antique pistol from his holster and stuck it under Axel’s chin, shoving the barrel into his flesh. “Here’s an idea: why don’t you call her and tell her to surrender?” Axel managed to grin even wider. “You gonna do what, kill me if I don’t?” Mr. X laughed, backed off a little with the pistol. “It’s nice to work with professionals, after all the scum I usually have to deal with. You know I’m going to kill you, no matter what.” “I sort of suspected that.” “It’s necessary, you know. But you can go hard or you can go easy.” X holstered the gun and pulled out a thin boot knife. The stainless steel glittered in the overhead lights. The knife was only about seventeen or eighteen centimetres long, half of that handle, but it didn’t take long in the hands of an expert. Axel didn’t doubt that X knew how to use it. “Hell, my dick is bigger than that,” Axel said. “Not for long.” Axel gathered himself. His hands were bound behind him, but he could use his feet. Doubtless X knew hand-to-hand, but better to die trying than not. The com chimed on X’s desk. X moved back, outside of Axel’s range, and touched a control, his dark eyes awaiting. “Senator, the marines have shot down another of our P-series drones. They are moving north, away from the co-ordinates.” “They aren’t stupid,” X said, “Stay with them. Targets of opportunity.” He glanced at Axel. “Now you know too much. I’m afraid you’ve stumbled on something that’s far greater than anything you thought possible.” He touched other controls on the board. A timer lit the air in one the corners of the standard screen projection. It began to count down. “Better safe than sorry,” he said. Axel went for it. He took a couple of quick steps toward X. X laughed and snapped up a sidekick. The move was almost lazy, a contemptuous strike. His boot caught Axel in the belly and knocked him down. He hit hard, unable to use his hands to break his fall. He dug with his heels in a futile effort to get up. He’d never make it. X twirled the knife in his hands. “This game is being called off on account of rain,” he said. “Time to collect my winnings and go home. So long, Sergeant Stone.” He started to walk toward the helpless cop. “Drop it!” came a woman’s voice from behind X.

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Blaze had her gun aimed at the guy’s heart and if he made any sudden moves she was going to fill it with lead. The man grinned as he let the knife fall. He looked like some of the psychotics Blaze had seen in the lockdown section of the hospital. “Well, well. What have we here? Blaze Fielding herself. What an honour.” “Stay real still, you fucker!” Axel said, “Shoot him, Blaze, shoot him now!” The man glanced at Axel. “Ah, friend of yours, eh, sergeant? You have nice taste.” He turned back toward Blaze. Slid a half step toward her, hands outstretched wide, trying to look harmless. “Another step and I punch your ticket,” she said. “Come on. Sweet little thing like you? You don’t want to kill me. Think about what it would be like, being responsible for the death of another human being. It’ll give you bad dreams, honey.” He slid another half-step forward. Blaze swallowed, her mouth dry. This man was a killer, she’d seen what he’d done to her family. He had kidnapped Axel. But his hands were in the air. Shooting somebody down like this, it was different than killing somebody with a gun. Blaze shuffled back a step. “I’m telling you to stop right there!” Axel managed to lift himself to his feet by leaning against the wall. “Blaze, this guy is your parents’ killer! You have to put him down! Shoot!” She glanced at Axel. Mistake. As soon as her attention left X, he leapt. God, he was fast! Blaze pulled the trigger on the gun, but he was already twisting, dropping under the line of fire. Half a dozen rounds shattered a computer console, the noise was awful, lights flickered as the power surged and shorted in the plugged console. She tried to realign the weapon but too late. X hit her above the knees, and she did a half-flip forward and landed on her back. “Stupid bitch!” he said as he rolled up and caught Blaze by the shoulders. “Point a goddamn gun at me!” He snatched her from the floor and threw her against the wall. Blaze went grey as her head slammed against the wall. Even as she bounced off, he was on her, one hand grabbing her bare shoulder, the other slapping her face. “I don’t need a weapon, you stupid cunt, I could tear your throat out with my fingers!” he screamed. He slapped her again. Blaze felt a tooth cut the inside of her lip. Blood sprayed from her mouth as he slapped her the third time. He shoved her back against the wall, lifted her feet clear of the floor with his arm. Pulled his pistol from its holster. Grinned like a maniac. “But I don’t dirty my hands on nothings like you.” As he raised the gun to kill her, Blaze saw a blur behind him. She couldn’t stop her gasp. X tried to turn, but she locked both her hands around the wrist he held her with. It slowed him enough so that Axel hit him with one shoulder just above his hip. Blaze felt one of the shoulder straps of her bra tear as X was knocked away. She fell to the floor and scrabbled on all fours, the strap hanging loosely off her right shoulder. She crawled toward the gun X had dropped. “I’ll kill both of you,” X roared. Axel was sprawled on his side, pushing himself along with only his left foot. Toward Mr. X.

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Blaze reached the gun, but she was rolling, and she felt the bullet hit the floor where she had just been. No time to aim. She pushed her gun out as if it were her fist punching and pulled the trigger. The fire selector must have been jiggled when the gun had fallen. It went off once. Blaze, expecting full auto, couldn’t figure it out. She held the trigger back, waiting for more fire. Nothing. She’d have to let her finger off and pull it again, she realised. But one was enough. The caseless 10mm round caught X just behind the shoulder of his gun arm. Blew a hole through him. Blaze saw him tumble, the gun falling from his fingers. The entry wound was the size of her fingertip, but when he fell she saw the exit wound, high on his back, was as big as her fist. The pistol slid two metres away from the fallen man’s fingertips. He raised his head, saw the pistol, crawled for it. Stretched his good hand out for it. Blaze came up, gun held ready, and jumped for the pistol. Kicked it across the room. Pointed her gun at the downed Mr. X. He rolled over onto his back. Blood poured from his wound, spreading under his head in a coppery-smelling pool. “Stupid fucking bitch!” he said. He reached for something at his waist. “Don’t move!” “Fuck you!” He slid his left hand into a vertical slit on his suit-jacket over his stomach. She saw him smile as he gripped it. “Blaze!” Axel yelled. “Stop!” she screamed. He started to pull his hand out. She squeezed the trigger. The explosion was loud in the enclosed room, it lapped against the hard walls and splashed back at her. Her ears rang. The round hit him square in the mouth. Chopped out some front teeth and blew the back of his head all over the floor and the wall behind him. Whatever he planned to do wasn’t ever going to happen. She bent, tugged his hand out. His dead hand gripped a grenade. The safety cap had already been snapped up and his finger was on the detonate button. Carefully, Blaze pried the grenade loose of the dead man’s hand and closed the safety cap. He would have blown them up. “Blaze, cut me loose.” She looked at Axel, blinked as if she’d never seen him before. “What?” “He’s set some sort of timer going. Hurry!” Numbly, Blaze obeyed. She found the fallen knife, used it to cut the strands binding Axel. The knife was very sharp. “I got that fucker!” she breathed. “You’re still a fugitive though, remember?” “Fuck. You’re right. What’re we gonna do?” “We’re gonna find out why all this happened and clear your name once and for all!”

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15 Conspiracy Theory

Axel ran to Mr. X’s computers. Looked at the screen. A bullet had shattered the projector. He couldn’t see how much time was left. He started tapping controls on the console, swore, then moved to another screen. “What is it?” “I can’t turn off the timer,” he shook his head. “He’s covered himself far too well. Looks like I’m gonna have to do it manually.” “Manually?” “I’ll have to find the command he entered and then de-activate it. Problem is, the timer could have worn down by then.” The computer flashed: READY _ “Come on!” Blaze said, “I don’t want to die now! We’ve come too far!” Axel typed: GOTO COMMAND LEVEL The computer answered: COMMAND LEVEL FOUND. READY _ “We’re in,” Axel said excitedly. “All right!” He typed: GOTO SECURITY The computer rattled. SECURITY READY _ “What are you doing, Axel?” Blaze hissed impatiently. “Shut up,” he snarled. Blaze did. She watched as he typed; new words scrolled onscreen rapidly. FIND LST.OBJ OBJECT NOT FOUND IN LIBRARIES FIND/LISTINGS:LST.OBJ OBJECT FOUND LIST OBJ CALL LINK.SST SET TO ON “Son of a bitch!” Axel said. “This is it.” “Good,” Blaze whispered. “If I typed ‘fini.obj’, it’ll link the parameters, namely reset the timer.” “Good,” Blaze said again, “then do it!” “But it does something else,” Axel said, “it then erases the code lines that refer to it. It destroys all evidence it was ever there. Pretty slick.” Blaze shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Turn the fucking thing off!” Axel typed in the command: FINI.OBJ The timer stopped. The screen flickered and said: READY _ Axel sighed in relief. “It’s stopped.”

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“Good,” Blaze said. “Now find out about me!” Axel punched more buttons. The screen flashed: B.FIELDING/0394/C01/ENTER PASSWORD: _ “You need a password to get into your files,” Axel said. “Hmmm. Try ‘bitch’.” “I don’t know.” “Do it! Find out!” She stared at him as he typed ‘bitch’ and hit the ‘enter’ button. The computer blinked: PASSWORD ACCEPTED!! Axel looked up at her. “How’d you guess that –?” “I had a hunch,” she smiled. A large file drooped onto the screen. Axel printed it, waiting impatiently as the dozens of pages churned from a nearby laser printer. “I’ve got what we need,” he said. “Let’s get the hell outta here.” Blaze Fielding had avenged her family’s death. Now all she had to do was prove it…

***

Later that day, Axel Stone led Blaze Fielding to the police station, LAPD Central Division. He had her in handcuffs, but it was only in the interests of saving face, to make it look like he had captured her. As soon as he opened the door to the main entrance, Adam Hunter came jogging up to them in his uniform, looking bewildered. “Axel! Blaze!” he whispered. “God, am I glad to see you. Did you get the evidence you need?” “Read for yourself,” Axel answered. “We got far more than we bargained for. This kind of conspiracy runs deep at the highest levels of government.” He handed the documents to Adam. “We’ve found our criminal Syndicate, buddy, no doubts about that.” Adam read over the documents, his eyes scanning the printed text, photos, and diagrams hungrily. It turned out that Senator George Xetheus, the leader of the Syndicate, was more powerful than they had first realised, his influence extending over the US administration itself. After taking a brief vacation to the Galapagos islands, Mr. X became fascinated with the tribal communities living there, and in 1996 had ordered the destruction of Blaze’s village as part of some kind of cybernetics experiment called ‘Project X’. Mr. X had hired the ‘intruders’, a rival tribal faction from nearby Wolf Island, to do the dirty work, so that his team of scientists could collect the dead after they had left shore. The dead villagers were then taken back to Syndicate labs, where their brains were kept in stasis for research into neural net technology. In 2005, after learning of Blaze’s capture, Mr. X assigned one of his officials, Simon Jerrin, to perform further research on her at Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital. Although Blaze was unaware, Jerrin was performing a series of genetic experiments on her, whilst posing as her doctor. Mr. X’s research into neural net technology gradually enabled

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the Syndicate to develop top secret android machines, which he intended to use to usurp the Federal government and take over. Adam looked up and smiled. “Good work. There’s so much incriminating data here, it’s going to take a while to analyse it all. I’d better give this to Chief O’Hara. He’s the one organising the manhunt.” He turned, and led them into the station. ***

Axel, Blaze and Adam stood before Chief O’Hara in his small, stuffy office. The brown, stained blinds were closed, and it stunk of cigarette smoke. O’Hara was looking through the documents they had provided with narrow eyes, his plump, rotund body slumped uncomfortably in his wooden chair. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, his heart pounding. “This is so big…” Blaze swallowed hard. If this couldn’t clear her name, then what would? She thought of all the punishments she could face if this never turned out as she hoped – the electric chair, lethal injection, a life sentence, return to Edgemont – She began to sweat. “Interesting,” O’Hara said to himself. He looked up. “But why would the Syndicate want to manufacture robots? It doesn’t seem to make much sense…” Axel took a deep breath. “If you’ll turn to page nine, sir, it reveals that Mr. X intended to replace key administrative officials with his so-called ‘Project X’ androids, so that he could control the United States…” Blaze’s heart tied itself in a knot as Chief O’Hara stood up. “Ms. Fielding,” he said, his voice carrying a sigh. There was so much at stake here. “Looking at this new evidence,” he continued, “I feel obliged to apologise for any inconvenience this little incident may have caused you. Consider your name cleared…” Blaze felt taken aback. “Inconvenience?” she exclaimed. “I spent my whole fucking life like this ‘little incident’ thanks to Mr. X and his fucking experiments!” O’Hara looked down at his desk. “I’ll need to file a report with my superiors, the Mayor, the FBI… Jesus, I’m not sure who else to bring into this right now. Senator George Xetheus is… erm… was a respected man, and it’s gonna take a lot to bring him down and expose this ‘Syndicate’. It’s not going to happen overnight, I can guarantee that, especially if the President is a part of this whole mess. You won’t go without compensation, of course. We’ll take it through the international courts – I can imagine you’ll get somewhere in the region of ten million dollars, at least…” Blaze managed to put on a smile. “Do you wish to file a lawsuit against Edgemont hospital?” “Fuck, yes.” Chief O’Hara smiled. “Okay then. You’re a free woman. I’ll keep in touch. Just remember to lay low for a while until this whole thing blows over.”

She did. She stayed in Axel’s apartment for three days after it all seemed to die down. Each day from now, she could do whatever she wanted, because she was free. No more running. No more hiding. She was free. And she smiled.

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She smiled for the first time in her free life. And this time, she really did have something to smile about. Her family’s deaths were finally explained, and more importantly, avenged. She was free of the hospital, the endless nightmare of rape. She’d got a boyfriend, and now she had a respectable job. After the adventure, Chief O’Hara had invited her to join the police force. She had accepted his offer, and pending the completion of a crash course at the police academy over the next few months, she and Axel would be not only partners in love, but also partners in the police force too. Adam was being promoted to the LAPD’s intelligence division for his crucial work behind the scenes. Blaze sat in the comfortable chair by the window, which overlooked the city streets outside the apartment building. The first time she’d sat here, she had hated herself. Now, she was proud of herself and what she had managed to achieve in just the past few days. The door opened, and Axel appeared, holding something shiny in his hand. “What’s that?” Blaze asked. “It’s your badge, Cadet Fielding,” he answered, and tossed it to her. She caught it, eyed it in admiration, then stood up, brought herself up against him. He smiled, and clutched her shoulders. Things were perfect. They kissed. This time, however, the kiss was different. It was slow and gentle, warm and right. Much softer than before. Before? Axel couldn’t remember the past now. All he cared about was the present, and what the future held in store for both of them. The future, of course, was still uncertain, for unbeknownst to them, their adventure had only just begun…

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16 Fire

The sun shone down gently and pleasantly on the Syndicate-controlled Marine Base, just north of Los Angeles County. It wasn’t often these days you got sun, not with the effects of global warming mounting up and the latest increase in cloud density. Leon Shiva had his drapes flung wide to let the warmth into his office. He sat at his desk now, the report printout neatly enclosed in clear Mylar before him. He glanced over the neatly listed facts and figures and smiled to himself, feeling a pleasant rush of anticipation. Amazing. Absolutely astonishing. Puissance to the formerly powerless, power to the formerly impotent, is heady stuff indeed, and the close-cropped, burly man was feeling positively giddy with the new prospects that lay before him. The digital clock on his desk turned silently to 11:00am. Mr. X was a prompt man. He’d be here any minute. Leon Shiva had been preparing this demonstration since seven hundred hours this morning, and was all ready to go. Now he could afford to take a quick breather, relax and enjoy the prospects that lay before him, his career and, of course, the future of this battered city as Mr. X made efforts to take control of it. The digital clock was just threatening to transmute another number when his intercom chimed softly and the adenoidal voice of his secretary swept through. “Sir. Mr. X is here.” “Excellent.” Shiva slapped his desk and its thin burden lightly and stood up. “Send him in.” The door cycled open with a whirr and the burly, mysterious figure of Mr. X marched in, his eyes turreting like offensive guns on an aircraft carrier. They lighted on Shiva and a flicker of evil shone in them, below the grim and business-like exterior. “Leon.” Podgy fingers were extended. Mr. X’s grip was certain and firm. “Mr. X. Thankyou so much for coming.” “I believe the words ‘urgent’ and ‘maximum importance’ were used in your communication, Shiva. I tend to respond to these words. But I am a busy man. Apparently, Blaze Fielding has tried to go public to expose the Syndicate’s activities, and to expose me. Chief O’Hara tells me he had no choice but to call off the police manhunt. I’ve made the necessary…payments…for O’Hara to keep this situation under wraps, however. He’s allowing Blaze to join the police force, in order to keep her close and reigned in, to avoid any further slip ups while he makes plans to have her killed off. The Syndicate does employ him, after all. I hope my time here is not misspent.” George Xetheus was a tall man with greyed hair, broad nose and a voice deep and full. He smelled strongly of bay rum and the starch of his suit. He was a US

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Senator and the Syndicate Boss, who had gotten where he’d gotten by taking no shit, and Shiva respected that. “I’m no man to waste time, you know that,” said Shiva. “Tell you what – you think it’s a waste of time, you get to use my ski chalet in Vermont for a weekend…complete with my little black book.” X’s eyes glimmered a bit. A hint of a smile played on his lips. Then his teeth clamped down, his face assumed its normal grim posture. “Fair enough.” “Good. Then lean back, drink some beer, and have a cigar. This will take a couple of minutes.” X couldn’t help but chuckle. “Cigars? Where’d you get cigars, Shiva?” He sat down. Cigars had been made illegal in the United States a year previously. Shiva stuck a can of beer beside X’s elbow. Then he pulled out a humidor from one of the drawers. Smith y Ortegas. “On the black market, with triple the tobacco than the usual shit.” X rolled it, sniffing. “You know, it’s been so long since I’ve had one of these this might just kill me with pleasure.” He chuckled and took the clipper Shiva offered, dealt with the cigar end in an almost reverent fashion. “Now exactly what have you got on that scheming mind of yours?” He stuck the cigar in his mouth and allowed Shiva to play a flame over the end. He puffed, blew out bluish smoke. His eyes seemed to roll back with pleasure. “Mr. X, do you recall that unfortunate incident with the Robot X prototype last week, at the Civic building in Downtown LA?” “Sure. Blaze Fielding thought it was me, and blew its fucking head off. It’ll cost millions to get it replaced.” Puff. Spume. “Too bad. I suppose that’s why we developed Robot X in the first place…” “Sir, did you know that drugs were involved?” “It doesn’t surprise me. Robot X was programmed to defend itself to the death, and Dr. Dahm made sure it was no less than an absolutely lethal killing machine. There was no reason why it couldn’t have killed Blaze Fielding with ease.” “Blaze Fielding had Triazolam in her blood.” “Triazolam? Fire? What, that silly new pick-me-up they’re putting in the stores now that’s supposed to ‘unlock dormant genes’ and the ‘full potential of the human spirit’? Ain’t nothing great about those pills. Hell, I tried a couple myself. Goosed me up a bit, is all, but with no crash and burn. Nothing that would make me do what she did.” “That’s exactly what everyone says. But I did a quick search of news cuts for the last couple of weeks. And then I had Onihime and Yasha do some quick testing. Came up with some remarkable findings.” He gave X a moment to exhale his last puff of smoke, and then tendered the plastic-enclosed paper to the man. X grunted. He murmured a whiff of annoyance, and then dug into a side-pocket for a pair of half-frame spectacles, which he put on. His eyes strafed the paper for several moments, and then he shrugged and handed it back to Shiva. “I’ve got a team of assistants to read this stuff for me and digest it. I don’t get much out of it on my own, I’m afraid.” “That’s all right, sir. I had to have most of it explained to me. Onihime and Yasha don’t seem to be capable of speaking in layman’s terms. Just a few items of interest, jargon, some facts and figures to illustrate the fact that I’ve done some serious work on this.”

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“Right, Shiva. I believe, but I still don’t see where you’re coming from.” X tapped off some ash from the cigar, then left the smoking thing sitting in the tray. He folded his arms. A sure sign of impatience. Time to cut to the chase. “You’re aware of the active ingredient of Fire, aren’t you sir?” “Sure. Some kind of acid-based amphetamine. Quadro-something…” The cigar remained in the tray. It went out. X ignored it. “Quadropic Acid, to be precise,” Shiva said. “A rare chemical compound that infuses itself at the genetic level, and a chemical form of the psychotropic Triazolam. If used correctly, it can be very powerful indeed. Due to the rarity of the ingredients, Neo-Pharm, the manufacturer, has found itself running out of the stuff. Fire has become a highly sought-after drug. Latest reports say that supplies of Fire are now very limited. That’s why I’ve bought the entire stock that’s left.” X’s eyes sparked with anger. “What?” “Think of it, sir. When Blaze Fielding uses this drug, she is able to destroy one of our most advanced robot prototypes. So…why not build a new and improved version of Robot X using high levels of this Fire as its fuel?” X squinted suspiciously. “I’ve spent nineteen years and millions of dollars developing Project X. You’re talking about a complete change – using biological components, DNA jobs – that’ll cost billions of dollars, Shiva.” Shiva smiled. “How about if you could do it for just a few bucks for each robot, sir?” X barked a growly laugh. “Pull the other one, Shiva.” Shiva checked his wristwatch. The players in the game would be just about ready. “Sir, if you’d care to step onto my balcony, there’s a little demonstration I’d very much like to show you, courtesy of some of the men in my company.” X shrugged. “I’m here. I’ve smoked your cigar. I’ve listened to your curious nonsense. And I must say, you’ve used a sizeable chunk of the Syndicate budget to throw together this bit of research. So I guess you’ve put me in a position where I don’t have a choice in the matter. But let me tell you, Shiva. I’d better see some serious justification for the use of this money.” “Naturally, sir.” Shiva got up and marched over to a side wall, hung tastefully with weapons and equipment. He pulled out two pairs of electronically enhanced binoculars from re-chargers and handed one to Mr. X. Then he pointed toward the sliding glass doors and the open spaces beyond. “Come on, sir. Wait ‘till you get a gander at this!”

***

The ‘balcony’ was actually an extension of a catwalk and stairs system that connected a number of buildings in the newly-built assembly of offices, barracks, and warehouses that comprised this Base. Beyond, a bank of obsidian-bottomed clouds hung on the horizon. A storm was brewing. But there would be time for the exhibition. Shiva picked up a walkie-talkie from the desk. The two men walked to the edge of the balcony. Shiva leaned against the railing and pointed down at the open yard below. Some yards away, a group of enlisted men seemed to be milling about, up to nothing more than loitering. Mr. X glowered. “Looks like a bunch of men goofing off!”

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“If you’ll just direct your binocs toward that lone figure over there in the corner, sir.” X harrumphed. But he put the binoculars up, finger expertly adjusting the focusing vernier. “It’s me! I mean, a robot duplicate of me!” “That’s right, sir,” Shiva said. “So has this new model been fuelled with Fire?” “Just a moment. You’ll see.” Shiva opened up the walkie-talkie he’d taken with him. “Robot X2. Can you read me?” The walkie-talkie spluttered, and spat back. “Roger. I read you, Shiva.” “The people approaching you are Axel Stone, Blaze Fielding, and Adam Hunter. What should you do with them?” “Destroy,” the radio crackled. X smiled as Shiva pointed to a group of soldiers creeping up behind the android. Shiva smiled. “Now watch what happens.” The frontmost of the group, a beefy tower of a man, stepped up to Robot X2, grabbed him by the shoulder, and spun him around. A few obscene motions and words were made. The robot did nothing. Another man stepped forward and shoved it. X2 shuffled backward, still not reacting. Not even cringing, which was a good sign. Then another grunt, a female representing Blaze Fielding, crept up behind it and got down on all fours. The big man stepped forward, executed a sharp, swift push. X2 tumbled onto the ground. The smallest of the men, a little man with a rat face, stepped in and gave a kick to the robot’s backside. X roared. This was a copy of himself! “What the hell is going on?” he screamed. “This is absurd!” Shiva tensed. There should be some reaction here by now. The ratty-faced man sneered and went in for another free kick. However, this time, he did not step back after the blow was delivered. And the sneer melted into a look of alarm. Something snapped. There was a scream, and Rat Face was flung head over heels backward. He was slammed into the corrugated metal of a barracks wall and left a smear of blood as he poured onto the ground, out for the count. The others took a step back. The robot jumped to its feet. “Holy shit,” said X. Their binoculars leapt to their eyes. The robot’s eyes seemed to glow. “Three tablets of the synthesised version of Fire,” said Shiva. He brought up his walkie-talkie. “Okay, men. Subdue the robot.” The soldiers stepped forward again, looking quite a bit more tentative now, and probably a damned sight startled. Still, they were good military soldiers and they followed orders. They advanced, closing in on X2 from front and behind. “He’s outnumbered two to one, just like the other robot that was destroyed…but what’s happening to him?” said X. “This is remarkable!” Up with the binoculars. Down with the jaw. All of a sudden, the robot’s physical appearance seemed to change. Latent muscles seemed pumped up, and the whole face seemed chiselled purpose and resolve. And those burning eyes…

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Robot X2 grabbed the woman, and with lightning speed lifted her off her feet and hurled her back, knocking over five more army men that were beginning to advance. …those burning eyes. His face seemed twisted into a mask of hatred and anger. “Amazing,” said X. What had this drug done? Robot X2 didn’t give the others a moment to rally. He charged in, punching and throttling. Goblets of blood flew into the air, along with shrill shrieks and gurgles. Maybe he shouldn’t have used three pills… X2 leapt onto the back of Big Pecs, and grabbed ahold of the man’s neck. Big Pecs tried to throw him off, but X2 held fast. The crazed robot of Mr. X gripped the head, and wrenched, his tendons standing out from his neck. A loud snap! A pulse of blood, and the big man wilted to the ground, his neck broken, his head almost torn from its mooring. The other soldiers had watched this, stunned and stuck in indecision. The bloody demise of their fellow soldier sent them running away. X2, grinning like a death’s-head, caught two and slammed their skulls together. He raced and tackled another, pummelling him to a pulp with fists. The walkie-talkie spoke again. It was the woman. “Sir! He’s out of control. We need armed soldiers out here. We –” “Oh, my God!” cried X. “Behind her!” The crazed robot leapt upon the woman, grabbed the walkie-talkie, and slammed the hard-plastic-metal over and over into the woman’s face, until it was a bloody pulp. Shiva did not pause long to watch. He was screaming into another radio channel for backup. Armed backup. There’d been absolutely no indication that this exhibition would get this far out of control. Two soldiers, one with a machine gun, one with a blaster, raced into the courtyard. Somehow, in the sudden blur and explosion of fire and bullets, and despite a bullet wound and the loss of part of an arm, X2 managed to wrest the machine gun away and use it on the backup soldiers, killing them instantly. Amid the decimation, Shiva watched with horror as the bleeding and burnt chemically-charged robot maniac slowly swivelled around like a gladiator surveying its kill – and seeking out the emperor… “Christ!” said X. “He’s looking at us!” …and not for approval. “Sir! Quickly! Back to the office!” Even at their first step, a hail of bullets splattered over their heads; Shiva was stung with flying cement chips. Ducking, they lunged through the office doors, and the glass windows exploded. X took cover behind a desk, and Shiva leapt to his wall of weapons. He tore two loaded machine guns from their racks and threw one to Mr. X. “I haven’t used one of these in years!” moaned X. “Watch!” Shiva clicked off the safety. He ran to the billowing curtains, took cover, and squeezed off a salvo at the approaching maniac. No hits, but he got the feel of the thing. He dodged as another hail of bullets crashed through the door, tearing up a wall of certificates and pictures. Shiva retreated, letting off more fire. There was a moment of silence, and then X2 marched in like he was Superman. He gripped the gun and the grin on his face was like an axe wound. One

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eye was a bloody gorge, but the other gleamed like diamond. Blood rivuleted down his face. One whole side of his face was burned. He lifted up the machine gun, like a crazed zombie with firepower. X had figured out how to use his weapon and he ripped off a clip. However, only a couple of bullets hit their mark, the others splattering along a wall. X2 was knocked off his feet, falling back onto the balcony. But with iron determination and a brain burning with chemicals, he began to get up. Shiva lifted his gun to fire again, but it was jammed. He did not waste time on the weapon, flinging it down and leaping to a rack. The nearest weapon was a bazooka. He tore it off the wall, grabbed a shell, loaded it up, and ducked behind a chair just as a new hail of bullets chunked and screamed into the weapons wall. A pause. X2 was out of ammunition. He had to be. Shiva thumbed off the safety, checked the go-light of his weapon, thanking God he’d kept up on his weapons training. He brought the short barrel of the minibazooka up and gave himself only a fraction of a second to aim. Robot X2, smoking and smelling of burnt metal, still grinning, walked toward him, death glaring from his good eye. Shiva squeezed the trigger. The shell whooshed out of its pipe and whacked directly into the maniac robot’s chest, smashing him back through the door before it detonated. The explosion of the shell blasted the robot and his gun to pieces, not even leaving a circuit board behind. Shiva gasped and collapsed, dragging ragged breaths into his weary lungs. What a fiasco! Mr. X cautiously poked his head from behind the desk. His suit was torn and he had a stunned look to his eyes. “Well sir?” Shiva said, with a grim smile. “What do you think? Imagine a whole army of X Robots fuelled by this drug! Blaze Fielding, and anyone else who would oppose us, won’t stand a fucking chance!” X smiled slowly. “I believe, Shiva, that this drug bears some further investigation. But please – not while I’m around.”

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17 The Plot Thickens

SIX MONTHS LATER

“Blaze?” Light blared, loud and unwanted. Blaze started, sat up. She rubbed her eyes. “What -?” Axel stood in the doorway, his hand on the control panel. She shook her head. “I was fast asleep…Axel. What time is it?” “Almost noon,” Axel smiled apologetically. “I know you were up late last night, sorry to disturb you -” “What is it?” Blaze felt the last of her sleep slip away as her eyes adjusted to the brightness. She was suddenly aware that she was naked. “Adam never showed up for work again this morning, and he’s not answering his phone. Chief O’Hara is starting to worry. I was going to pay him a visit, but I thought it would be best if the staff saw that you were in on this, too.” Blaze nodded. “Thankyou, Axel. You’re right. I haven’t seen Adam since my graduation from the Academy, and that was what, a week ago…? Give me two minutes to get dressed.” Axel averted his eyes politely as Blaze padded naked into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. She rinsed her mouth with water, and in spite of the cool liquid, she felt hot, her eyes sticky and full of sand. Not enough sleep. She slipped quickly into her underwear, then her police uniform, and stepped out to meet Axel. As she slid her firearm into the holster by her hip, she glanced longingly at the bed; a nap later, perhaps. She shuddered as they reached the door; she was feeling faint. “You okay?” Axel said. She nodded, went to her handbag and pulled out a medicine bottle, full of pure Triazolam. She cut a Tablet of Flame in half. She’d tried to give it up, no go. Maybe after they found Adam. She washed the half-tablet down with a glass of water. The chemical rush hit Blaze Fielding like the Hammer of Thor. Molten energy poured into her muscles and lightning exploded from her brain. Axel watched in silence, concerned for her health, as her eyes widened – her senses boosted. Axel was about to say something when the telephone on the cupboard beside the bed began to ring. He answered it. “Hello?” “Axel! Thank God!” came a voice. “Who is this?” he asked. “It’s Eddie Hunter, Adam’s brother.” “Sammy? Don’t you live out in Detroit?” “Yeah I do, but I flew down to California today to visit Adam, and the house is a total fucking ruin. I called LAPD, but no one there has seen or heard from Adam since last week! Where the hell is he?”

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Axel sighed. “I wish I could answer that question, Skate, but Blaze and I don’t have a clue where Adam is, either. In fact, we were just on our way over.” “Hurry, man! This is serious!” Eddie Hunter hung up. Axel slammed the receiver down, and looked at Blaze, who was waiting impatiently. “It’s worse than we thought,” he said.

***

Today was a brisk summer day in Los Angeles, and Axel had the squad car window open so that he could see the streets clearly as they zoomed past. Crime was on the increase in this city - looting, random violence and destruction were rampant – no one was safe walking the streets, day or night... and a lot were in ruins, dilapidated and ignored by the local authorities. A few days ago, he and Blaze had tried to establish a special attack unit to try and clean up these streets, but they had been turned down by Chief O’Hara, who insisted that things would improve with time. They passed Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital, and Axel watched it, remembering that day not-so-long-ago when he first met Blaze, and rescued her from her captivity. “Nice day for a skyscraper, eh?” he said to Blaze, seated next to him. Blaze barely looked up from her compact mirror. “Very impressive, Axel.” She glanced at the erect structure, nodded, and winked coyly. “Reminds me of you!” Axel smiled, continuing to drive, glorying as much in his own manly scent as in the mists of perfume and femininity that wafted his way from this little bundle of boobs and buttocks and brown hair. “You’re the best, honey,” he said. Eventually they reached La Habra Heights, and Axel eased the police car up to the front driveway of Adam Hunter’s house, where Eddie ‘Skate’ Hunter was waiting. They got out of the car, and immediately Axel could see that it did not look good. The house was burned, windows had been smashed, the door broken… Adam, unsurprisingly, was nowhere to be seen. “Fuck,” Blaze exclaimed. “Someone’s sure done some damage here.” “I can’t find Adam anywhere,” Skate said, his eyes travelling swiftly over Blaze’s body. Skate was eighteen years old, and had the facial features of his older brother. The family resemblance was uncanny. He wore a basketball kit with rollerblades, hence the nickname ‘Skate’. Rumour had it that he was extremely rebellious. Blaze watched as Axel examined the exterior of the house. She said, “What happens now?” Axel brought out his radio. “This is a crime scene. We need CSU to deal with this...” “What?” Skate said. “Crime Scene Unit. Fingerprints and DNA analysis,” Axel replied, smiling. “Stuff like that.” He opened up the radio and pushed the send button. “LAPD central, this is Sergeant Stone. Do you copy, over?” A burst of static, then: “Loud and clear. Go ahead.” “We’ve reached Sergeant Hunter’s residence, and he’s nowhere to be found. Looks like somebody torched the house. Requesting CSU team for forensic analysis, over.”

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“Ten Four.” “Stone out.” Axel closed the radio down and pocketed it. He moved to join Blaze and Skate, who were engaged in conversation. “Hey guys,” he said. Blaze looked at him and smiled. “I’ve requested a CSU team. There’s nothing else we can do here.” Skate was taken aback. “That all you’re gonna do?” Axel shook his head and smiled. “No, of course not. I have an idea.”

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18 The Hunt for Hunter

Axel’s small office was located in a corner of his apartment. Inside, the walls were plastered with blueprints, order-forms on clipboards, and three-dimensional cutaway computer drawings. Electronic components, equipment catalogues, and stacks of faxes were scattered across his desk. Axel rummaged through them, and finally came up with a small grey handheld telephone. “Here we are.” He held it up for Blaze and Skate to see. “Pretty good, huh? Designed it myself.” Skate said, “It looks just like a cell phone.” “Yes, but it’s not. A cell phone uses a grid in place. A satellite phone links directly to communication satellites in space. With one of these I can talk anywhere in the world. Adam and I both had one when we were partners, and we swore to carry them with us wherever we went, so that we could contact each other in an emergency. As far as I know, Adam still carries his about. If we want to know what happened to him, this is our best shot. Let’s see if he’s answering.” He pushed the speakerphone. They heard the call dial through, hissing static. The phone rang, repeated electronic beeps. “If I can’t get through to him, I’ll try Jodie Kelly.” “Jodie Kelly?” Blaze asked, looking up. “Who’s Jodie Kelly?” “She’s Adam’s ex-girlfriend. I’m sure she would know where he is.” “Adam never told me about her,” Skate said. Blaze smiled. “Spending too much time with computers, Skate?” “No,” Skate answered. Blaze saw Skate’s shoulders hunch, and he sort of withdrew into himself, the way he always did when he felt criticised. Over the speakerphone, they heard a sustained static hiss. Then a cough, and a scratchy voice said: “Hello? Hello? It’s Adam Hunter here.” Axel pressed the button on his phone. “Adam. It’s Axel. Do you read me?” “Hello?” Adam said at the other end. “Hello?” Axel sighed. “Adam. You have to push the ‘T’ button for transmit. Over.” “Hello?” Another cough, deep and rasping. “This is Hunter. Hello?” Axel shook his head in disgust. “Obviously, he doesn’t know how to work it. Damn! I went over it very carefully with him. Of course, he wasn’t paying attention.” He pushed the send button. “Adam, listen to me. You must push the ‘T’ in order to –” “This is Hunter. Hello? Hunter. Please. I need help.” A kind of groan. “If you can hear me, I’m on the island, I was shot and kidnapped, but –” A crackle. A hiss. “Uh-oh,” Axel said. “What is it?” asked Blaze, leaning forward. “We’re losing him.” “Why?” “Battery,” Axel answered. “It’s going fast. Damn. Adam, where are you?” Over the speaker, they heard Adam’s voice:

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“– dead already – situation got – now – very serious – don’t know – can hear me – but if you – get help –” “Adam! Tell us where you are!” The phone hissed, the transmission becoming steadily worse. They heard Adam say: “– have me surrounded – vicious – smell – night –” “What the fuck is he talking about?” Blaze asked. “– to – injury – can’t – not long – please –” And then there was a final, fading hiss. And suddenly the phone went dead. Axel clicked off his own handset, and turned off the speakerphone. He turned to Blaze and Skate, who were both pale. “We have to find him,” he said. “I have a bad feeling about this. But don’t worry, I have another idea where to look.”

Axel unlocked the door to Adam’s private studio and flicked on the lights. They stared, astonished. Blaze said, “It looks like a fucking museum!” Adam’s two-roomed, rented studio was decorated in a vaguely Asian style, with rich wooden cabinets and expensive-looking antiques and bonsai trees. It was spotlessly clean, and most of the antiques were housed in plastic cases. Everything was neatly labelled. They walked slowly into the room, examining paintings and drawings on large sheets of canvas. “Does Adam work here?” Blaze queried. She found it hard to believe. The place seemed so unlike the man, so impersonal. And Axel’s dinky little private office was always such a mess all the time… “Yeah, he does,” Axel said, pocketing the key. “He’s obsessed with bonsai trees, believe it or not. It always looks like this. He hates visitors, and maintains this place separately from his actual home for that exact reason. He can’t stand to have anybody touch anything.” There were couches were arranged around a glass coffee table. On the table were four piles of books, each neatly aligned with the glass edge. Axel shuffled though a stack of unopened mail that had been set beside the books. Blaze turned to some faxes on a nearby cupboard. Nothing important. In the next room, there was a desk with papers laid out in tidy stacks alongside a computer, covered in plastic. But beside the desk there was a large noticeboard that covered most of the wall. And on this board, Adam had tacked up maps, charts, newspaper clippings, Landsat images, and aerial photographs. At the top of the board was a large sign that said,

X??? Alongside that was a blurred, curling photograph of Adam in chains, lying at the feet of a man Axel and Blaze recognised only too well. “Mr. X!” Blaze said, feeling a rush of dread as she realised the impossible truth. “He’s alive!”

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Axel stared at the photograph. “But how is that possible? I saw it with my own eyes. You shot him in the face.” A moment of silence. “Fuck me,” Blaze whispered. “Think about it…that shit he was researching…robots…” Axel swallowed. “A robot? Are you saying that the Mr. X we killed was a machine?” Blaze nodded. “It makes sense. Something to do with this… ‘Project X’, maybe…” Axel took a deep breath. “Well, if that’s true, then who knows how many more of these robots could be around? And more importantly, who else has been replaced?” In neat handwriting, Adam had noted: ‘Syndicate Research Facility???? WHERE??????’ Blaze ran her fingers through her hair. “Looks like Adam was onto something here. Looks like he was searching for Mr. X’s headquarters.” “Yeah,” said Axel, “and perhaps the real George Xetheus...” Peering closely at the board, Blaze looked at the satellite images. She noticed that although they were printed in false colours, at various degrees of magnification, they all seemed to show the same kind of geographical area: a rocky coastline, and some islands offshore. “He said he was on an island,” Blaze said. “Yes,” Axel shrugged. “But that doesn’t help us much.” He stared at the board. “There must be twenty islands here, maybe more.” “At least we have a vague idea of where he is. My guess is Mr. X kidnapped him, and took him to some kind of island base,” Blaze said. Skate looked confused. “But why would this… ‘Mr. X’… want to kidnap my brother?” Skate asked. Axel shrugged. “I don’t know. But from the looks of things here, he might be laying a trap for us.” He glanced at Blaze. “An attempt to lure you into the…” “Shhh!” Skate hissed, his eyes darting around the room. Axel and Blaze looked at him questioningly. Skate gestured towards a long mirror hanging on the opposite wall. In the reflection, they could see through the doorway and into the other room. A spook! He was dressed in a black suit with shades over his eyes. He was trying to hide behind a wooden door. He looked around suspiciously, and put something in his pocket. When he saw Blaze’s reflection staring at him, he ran for the exit in a panic. “Shit!” Axel cried. “He’s getting away!” Axel ran after the man, followed closely by Blaze. “Hey!” he shouted. “Stop!” He crashed through the front door onto the street, Blaze immediately at his heels. The intruder was now fleeing on a black motorcycle, ducking and swerving into the midday traffic. “Fuck!” Blaze screamed. “Come back!” She ran to another nearby bike, leapt on. She said to Axel, “We can still catch him!” Axel got out his gun, and thrust it into her hands. “Can you shoot?” “Yes. I mean, no. I never –” “Can you drive a bike?”

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“No, I –” “Then you have to shoot,” Axel said. “Now, look: trigger’s here. Okay? Safety’s here. Twist it like this. Okay? It’ll be a rough ride, so don’t release it until we get close.” “Close to what?” But Axel didn’t hear her. He gunned the engine, and the bike accelerated, heading out onto the road, chasing the fleeing intruder. Blaze put one arm around Axel, and tried to hold on. The motorcycle raced forward across the pavement, scattering civilians. Blaze clutched Axel with one hand, and held the pistol with the other; the pistol was heavy; her arm was getting tired. The motorcycle jolted between cars. The wind blew her hair around her face. “Hold on!” Axel shouted. The sun broke through the clouds, and the road before them had less traffic on it now. The fleeing intruder was forty yards ahead of them, and they were gaining steadily. Blaze could hear police sirens from somewhere behind them. They came closer to the intruder. He sped on swiftly. Axel angled the bike to the right, as they came alongside the man. They moved steadily closer. Axel leaned back, his mouth close to Blaze’s ear. “Get ready!” he shouted. The bike swerved left, narrowly avoiding an oncoming car, and swerved right again, this time avoiding an ambulance. “What the fuck do I do?” Blaze screamed. They were speeding at almost 100mph parallel to the intruder. Axel accelerated, passing the man, in line with his bike’s headlamp. “Shoot him!” Axel shouted. “Where?” “Anywhere!” Blaze fumbled with the gun. “Now?” “No! Wait! Wait!” The intruder panicked as they approached. He increased his speed. Blaze was trying to find the safety. The gun was bouncing. Her fingers touched the safety, slid off. She reached again. She was going to have to use two hands, and that meant letting go of Axel – “Get ready!” Axel shouted. “But I can’t –” “Now! Do it! Now!” Axel swerved the bike, coming alongside the man. They were now just one metre away. Blaze could smell him. He turned his head and swore at them. Blaze fired. The gun buckled in her hands; she grabbed Axel again. The intruder kept racing. “What happened?” Blaze asked. “You missed!” Blaze shook her head. “Fuck!” “Never mind!” Axel shouted. “You can do it! I’ll get closer!” He angled the bike toward the man again, moving closer. But this time was different: as they came alongside, the man used his bike to abruptly ram them at the side. Axel howled and twisted the bike away, widening the gap. “Fuck!” Blaze screamed. The intruder chased them for a moment, then suddenly turned, and sped into an alley leading up to the Lake Forest Tennis Club.

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“He’s going for the trees!” Blaze shouted. Axel gunned the engine. The bike shot forward. “How fast am I going?” Blaze didn’t answer. They were now ten yards behind the man, losing ground. He had entered an area thick with palm trees and oaks. The rough trunks scratched at them. The terrain was uneven; the bike bounced and jolted over the bumps. “Can’t see!” Axel shouted. “Don’t stop!” Blaze said. “If we want to find Adam, we have to catch this man!” “Hang on!” He angled left, moving away from the intruder, heading for the river. The man was disappearing into the foliage. “What the fuck are you doing?” Blaze shouted. “We have to cut him off!” Shrieking, a flock of startled birds rose up in front of them. Axel drove through flapping wings, and Blaze ducked her head. The pistol blasted in her hand. “Careful!” Axel shouted. “What happened?” “It went off!” “How many shots do I have?” “Two more! Make ‘em good!” The river was up ahead, shimmering in the sunlight. They burst out of the foliage and came onto the muddy bank. Axel turned, the motorcycle swerved, slipped, and the bike shot away. Blaze fell, hitting the cold mud, Axel landing hard on top of her. Immediately Axel jumped up, running for the bike, shouting “come on!” Dazed, Blaze followed him. The gun in her hands was thick with mud. She wondered if it would still work. Axel was already on the bike, gunning the engine, waving her forward. Blaze jumped on, and Axel headed up the riverbank. The man was twenty metres ahead of them. Approaching the water. “He’s getting away!” Axel accelerated, racing the motorcycle up the mud banks of the river. The man was just ahead, cutting diagonally toward them, heading for the water. “Go!” Blaze shouted. “Go!” The man saw them and changed course, angling farther ahead. He was trying to get distance on them but they were moving faster on the open banks. They came abreast of him, flanking him, and then Axel left the banks, heading back onto the grassy plain. The man moved right, deeper into the trees. Away from the river. “No!” Blaze shouted. Axel maintained his speed, moving slowly closer to him. He seemed to have given up on the river, and now had no plan. Axel was slowly gaining. Blaze was excited. She tried to wipe the mud off her gun, preparing to shoot again. “Damn!” Axel shouted. “What?” “Look!” Blaze leaned forward, stared past Axel’s shoulder. Directly ahead, she saw a group of thick tree trunks. “He thinks he’s going to lose us!” Axel gunned the bike, moving closer. “Get him now! Now!” Blaze aimed and fired. The gun buckled. But the man kept going. “Missed!” “What do we do?” Blaze shouted. “No choice!” Axel yelled. He pulled parallel to the man, just as they passed into shadow, racing through the trees. Axel swerved, avoiding collision. Then they

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were out into the sunlight, then in shadow again. The bike bounced as Axel swung left; they scraped against the trunk of a tree. “Shit!” Axel said, spinning the bike around. Blaze had a graze on her arm, and it stung. They emerged from the trees, and came back into the plain. “Last chance!” Axel shouted. “Do it!” Blaze raised the gun. Axel was driving hard and fast, pulling very close to the speeding man. The man turned to punch Blaze, but she ducked, and knocked his hand away. “Now!” Blaze shoved the barrel against his neck, and squeezed the trigger. The gun snapped back fast, and Blaze fell from the bike, rolling to a stop in the grass where she promptly threw up. The man sped on. “Fuck!” she shouted. “Fuck!” And then suddenly the man fell, tumbling end over end in the grass, and Axel swung the bike away and pulled to a stop. The intruder was five metres away, flopping in the grass. He yelped. And then he was silent. Axel stayed by the bike while Blaze moved cautiously through the grass. “What were you doing in Adam’s studio?” she shouted, shaking the man by the collar. “Answer me!” The man coughed; blood was coming out his left ear. “I planted the photograph. Mr. X is…” He coughed violently. “Mr. X is what?” Blaze hissed. “Photograph…” the man groaned, and then there was silence. Blaze stood up. “He’s dead.” Axel came and put his arm around her. “You okay?” Blaze nodded. “Sure. But now we’re back to square one.”

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19 Drug Addiction

When they got back to the apartment, Blaze decided to take her own advice and scrub some of the afternoon away. So little of it had made any sense. Why had this strange man planted a photograph in Adam’s studio? And why was he so desperate to get away? She figured that it was meant to lure her and Axel to the island, into some kind of trap. Blaze pushed a hand back through her dark hair, and rubbed the back of her neck. Her muscles ached, she was tired, she was dirty, and she was pissed off. “Oh, fuck,” she whispered. “Oh, fuck.” Sighing, she unbuttoned her navy blue shirt and slid it off, her shoulders covered in sweat. She pulled off her uniform pants, stripped away her bra and panties, and stepped into the shower. The water splashed over her breasts, and she turned away from the showerhead, letting the hot water slam against her back and splash over her shoulders. She sighed, rubbing the shower gel over her shoulders and breasts, her eyes halfclosed. Her breathing steadied as she willed the memory of Mr. X to a safer distance. Steam rose gently around her, condensing on the narrow pebble glass window in the white tiled wall, running down the translucent sliding door. Blaze rubbed her palms over her wet breasts, and gasped. She moved one hand down to her vagina, and began rubbing over the wet hair, before inserting two fingers deep within. The fingers slid in and out of her vagina slowly, teasing her. Blaze gasped with excitement. Her hair was draped over her face, her body soaking wet. Emotion surged through her body intensely as she masturbated, yearning for release of some of that tension. Her vaginal lips spread as her fingers worked at her clitoris, while with the other hand she squeezed one of her wet nipples until it was pebbled and erect. Blaze began to moan, and her teeth clenched as an orgasm shuddered violently through her.

Afterward, Blaze took a short nap. When she awoke, grogginess took over her and her breathing was thick. She felt extremely sick indeed. She knew that if she were going to get some help, she’d have to get it now. She reached into her handbag beside the bed, pulled out a small bottle. A fresh one. Blaze cracked open the safety seal and knocked out a pill. Hell, why not? She knocked another one onto her palm, then quickly screwed the top back on and stuffed it back into the handbag, zipping it up. She looked down at the capsules of Fire. They were a deep green colour, coated with a glittery silver that made them sparkle in the light.

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Blaze slipped both capsules between her lips. She took a glass of water she had placed beside her bed earlier, and used the small amount of water left to wash them down. Fire. From Neo-Pharm. Great stuff. She’d been taking Fire ever since it first came out. All natural ingredients. She was addicted to the stuff, not through choice, but through necessity. Ever since breaking free of Edgemont, she needed something to see her through things, after cutting off her medication courses completely. Besides, anything that could give you that extra edge was really okay by her. She burst into chemically-controlled attention as Axel walked into the bedroom. “What a pleasant sight,” she said. “I don’t feel pleasant,” he answered. She stared at his bandages and asked, “Why do we always get ourselves into such scrapes?” She sat up, stroking her hair, looking round the room. “I’m glad to see you changed clothes.” “I did my best.” He lifted her hand, felt it tremble a little. She didn’t say anything as he lowered his face and kissed her on the mouth. The kiss he received in return was quick and hard and without emotion. He drew his face away and looked at her for a time. She laid down again, and stretched her arms. She was naked, her breasts visible. “You’ve been taking that drug, haven’t you?” Axel asked. Blaze shrugged. “So what if I have?” Axel sat on the end of the bed. “I’m concerned for your health, Blaze. I think you’re taking too much of that stuff. I mean, you’re taking three or four pills a day. It can’t be good for you…” Blaze shot a glance at him. “I’m fine,” she said. “The drug helps with my medication withdrawal. It calms me down.” She pulled the bedcovers back, and stepped naked out of bed. She sat down next to him and put her arm around him, snuggling her body against his. “It won’t be forever, darling. I promise.” Axel reached into his pocket and brought out the photograph of Adam at Mr. X’s feet. “Remember this?” Axel asked, changing the subject. “How could I forget?” Blaze whispered. Axel pointed to the pocket on Mr. X’s jacket. On it was some writing, but it was too small for Blaze to make out. “I had this writing magnified on the computer,” Axel said. “It’s the name of a pharmaceutical company. You’re not going to like it…” He brought out another picture, a computer-generated enhancement of X’s pocket from the original photo. On it was written: ‘NEO-PHARM, LTD.’ Blaze’s eyes widened. “Fuck me,” she said. “You’re telling me that NeoPharm is connected with Mr. X too? Jesus, this is getting is better by the minute…” Axel nodded. “I think it’s time we paid a visit to the Neo-Pharm laboratories. Get dressed.”

***

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Blaze followed Axel up a black suspended staircase to the second floor of the Neo-Pharm building. They passed a sign that read: CLOSED AREA AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT Blaze felt a thrill when she saw that sign. They walked down the second floor hallway. One wall was glass, looking out onto a balcony with palm trees growing in the sunlight. On the other wall were stencilled doors, like offices: SUPERVISOR…GUEST SERVICES…GENERAL MANAGER… Halfway down the corridor they came to a glass partition marked with another sign: BIOHAZARD! This laboratory conforms to USG P4/EKG Genetic Protocols Underneath were more signs: CAUTION! Teratogenic substances Pregnant women avoid exposure to this area DANGER! Radioactive isotopes In Use Carcinogenic potential Blaze grew more excited all the time. Teratogenic substances? What the fuck were they? What the fuck was going on here? It gave her a thrill, and she was disappointed to hear Axel say, “Never mind the signs, they’re just up for legal reasons. I can assure you everything is perfectly safe.” He led her through the door. There was a guard on the other side. Axel gave him a quick flash of his Visitor ID, and Blaze did the same. The guard acknowledged them with a nod, and let them pass. The door whispered open before them, and the familiar subdued colours throbbed over them. The acidic smells of the lab assaulted their nostrils. Axel led Blaze across a catwalk that spanned a pit where chemical workers in silvery suits worked over tables and tanks. Along the walls were aquariums filled with drugs. “You two!” called an alarmed technician from the floor below. “You’re not wearing your suits!” “Well, just don’t squirt us, guys,” said Axel sarcastically. “Is Max in?” “Yes, sir. He’s in his office.” “Great,” Axel grinned at Blaze. “I think it’s time for a chat.”

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They finished crossing the pit and entered the bank of offices belonging to the scientists of the firm. Here the air was tinged with a sweetener to clear out the stench – but it still hovered. Max Hatchett was the owner of Neo-Pharm. A door labelled ‘MAX HATCHETT - CHAIRMAN.’ loomed. Axel opened it, not bothering to knock. The large, muscular man was huddled amongst a stack of papers. Paper, paper, everywhere – even covering his computer. Hatchett liked to figure and doodle on paper. He was a whiz with computers, but for some reason the man preferred a number two pencil and cheap bond to scratch and fiddle than one of these overpriced machines he nevertheless insisted was vital to his operation. Max Hatchett was so immersed in what he was doing, the black-haired, cobalt-nosed muscle-man didn’t notice Axel and Blaze coming in through the door. “Max!” Axel said, a huge grin on his face, clearly alarming the man. Max looked up, confused, then smiled as he realised who it was. “Stone, you scared the shit out of me!” he said, shaking Axel’s hand. “How’s life been treating you?” “Not bad,” Axel said, “How about you?” Max nodded. “Fine, thanks.” His eyes tracked from Axel to Blaze. “And who are you?” “Blaze Fielding,” she said, extending her arm to shake his hand. “Axel’s partner.” Max grinned at Axel as he shook Blaze’s hand. “Nice work, my friend.” Blaze looked confused. “You two know each other?” Axel smiled. “Sure. We went to high school together. Max here was the local wrestling champion back in the day. Ah, great times…” “You never told me,” Blaze said. “You never asked.” He grinned. Max gestured for them to sit down, and poured out some coffee for them, which they accepted gratefully. “So tell me,” he said, “What brings you here? Police business?” “Actually, yes,” Axel said, and began to explain their situation to him. Blaze shifted in her seat. She took a deep breath, but it didn’t calm her. She sighed, listening to Axel explain Adam’s disappearance. Then, wearily, she took out her Triazolam, opened the bottle, and tapped a pill into her hands. She took it with a hard gulp of coffee, and almost immediately began to feel better. She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing she could beat this addiction, then opened them again. “Well, the Syndicate has purchased Neo-Pharm,” said Max. Blaze’s eyes widened. “What? Why?” Max shrugged. “I don’t know why. They seemed overly enthusiastic about it too. I accepted their offer, since I was thinking of selling up anyway…” “When was this?” “Four days ago. A man named ah… Leon Shiva… marched into my office with 100 million dollars, in cash.” “Leon Shiva?” Axel asked. “Who is that?” “Some kind of right-hand man to Mr. Xetheus, I believe. I haven’t actually spoken to the Boss about this yet.” Axel frowned, “Why do you think they wanted your company? How could they possibly benefit from this?” Max shrugged again. “I’m not sure exactly, but I heard it’s something to do with an experiment involving our drug, Fire.”

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Blaze flushed red, and Axel glanced at her. Fire. Triazolam. Mr. X? “Fire production has increased twofold now, to meet the Syndicate’s demands,” Max said. “God only knows what he’s using it for. Personally, I’m not going to be here much longer. I’m taking my hundred million dollars, and retiring.” “What about Adam?” Blaze asked. “Do you know where he is?” “Sorry, I have no idea,” Max answered. “But they’re most likely holding him on their island base. That’s where Xetheus is spending a lot of his time lately, if the rumours are to be believed…” Axel glanced at Blaze again. “Their island?” he repeated. “Do you know where that is, exactly?” Max nodded. “Sure. This company sends shipments of Fire to the island every night now. It’s my business to know where it is…” Axel stood up. “Max, you need to tell us how to get there. Please help us, for old times’ sake. Adam’s life could be in danger… we can’t just sit around and do nothing.” “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Max asked. “Sounds to me like Mr. X wants you to find him… it has to be a trap.” “It’s the only way we can get to Adam, and I’m not prepared to sacrifice his life here. So, are you going to help us or not?” Max sighed, and nodded. “You’re my good friend, Axel. Of course I’ll help you. I have a cargo ship leaving for that island tonight from the city dock. But Syndicate troops will be aboard.” Axel smiled at Blaze. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take, as long as we can reach that island. It may be a trap, but Adam needs our help…”

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20 The Ship of Fire

Ten-metre waves crashed across the deck of the old cargo ship, washing away everything that wasn’t tied down. Rain whipped it from every side. Wind howled. The old cargo boat’s wood shrieked as though it were being yanked apart at the seams. It was a hideous sound, the sound of a thing in pain, and Blaze couldn’t block it out. She clung to the edge of a wooden crate marked: ‘NEOPHARMACEUTICALS’, certain that in the next second or the next, a wave would slam through the wood, crushing it, and sweep her away. She squeezed her eyes shut as the storm hurled the ship to the right, the left, the right again. Now it slammed down at the stem. Now it was flung backwards. Now it rolled, it rocked, it rose and fell. I’m going to puke. But when her eyes flew open, the press of the dark against the porthole took her breath away. Then a wall of water crashed against the side of the ship, smeared against the glass, and the impact threw her from the crate. “Fuck!” she screamed as she smacked the floor and for a second or two just lay there, groaning. Axel wasn’t here. He was on another part of the ship, or so she assumed. They had been split up whilst trying to smuggle themselves aboard, and as far as Blaze knew, Axel was somewhere else on the ship. She hoped to God that he was okay. She gripped the edge of the crate and pulled herself to her feet. She buttoned her jacket with one hand, and reeled towards the door. Right foot, left, right foot again. Good, real good. She was going to make it to the door and then outside to the deck to try and find Axel. Wherever the hell he was. She flung the door open and the wind lashed her. She moved against it, one hand holding the hair on her head, trying to shelter from the rain, the other gripping the door jamb. The ship rolled to the left; Blaze rolled with it and nearly lost her footing. She leaned into the wind, into the thickness of it, and made her way out onto the deck, slamming the door back behind her. The ship lifted onto the crest of a wave, its tired wood moaning and screeching, and Blaze grabbed the railing, waiting for the boat to slam down. When it did, water rushed across the deck, almost jerking her hands from the railing. It was over in seconds and she thrust herself forward, hand over hand, pulling herself through the violence. The wind howled around her. The taste of salt coated her lips, stung her eyes until they were barely slits. Where was Axel? She kept moving. The storm tossed the ship around like a piece of driftwood. By the time she’d made it to the captain’s quarters, she was soaked to the bone. Water ran in rivulets down the sides of her face. Salt was thick against her lips, her tongue.

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She took a deep breath, and carefully turned the doorknob. She smiled as it opened. The moment she was inside, the door slammed shut, blocking the din of the storm. She looked around, making sure she was alone. The lamp on the wall flickered, blinked out, on, and the ship rolled onto its’ side. She grabbed the edge of the bunk and held on until the vessel righted itself again. “Fuck!” Blaze hissed. Axel wasn’t here! Then she looked up and saw a burly sailor staring sullenly at her from the end of the corridor. There was another behind her. “Fuck!” The sailors rushed forward from either side. She was about to throw a punch, but the boat swayed and she stumbled back right into the arms of the second sailor. They pinned her arms behind her, and dragged her to the end of the corridor and onto the deck. Then a third figure stepped out of the wet shadows and punched her in the gut. Blaze gasped. She felt her legs crumpling. One of the sailors held her up and jerked her to the right, under an awning that offered some protection from the storm. And that was when Blaze saw him, the fucker who’d punched her. It was the man who Max had described. Shiva. Shiva was older than Blaze, but even in the dark, Blaze could see his icy blue eyes, glowing like twin moons. “Well, well, well,” he laughed. “Look what the cat dragged in.” The sailors giggled. Blaze said nothing. “Mr. X has a bounty on your head, Blaze Fielding,” Shiva said. “I believe the reward is a mouth-watering ten million dollars.” Blaze was about to swear at him when she was propelled across the rolling deck towards the rail. She spun round. Axel! Blaze watched in amazement as Axel jabbed his elbows into the stomachs of the startled sailors and rushed towards Shiva. Shiva saw him coming and lurched towards a ladder that led up to the bridge. But before he could reach it, a huge fuel drum crashed against the ladder, blocking his path. The drum started to roll back towards him. He leaped to the side and as he did, Blaze smacked her foot into his head, sending him flying. Blaze pitched forward, towards Axel, but one of the sailors blocked her way, then swung a crowbar at her head. She ducked just in time, and let loose a powerful uppercut that caught the sailor under the jaw. The man reeled backwards just as a wave slammed against the deck. Blaze looked around frantically for Axel; she spotted him several metres away. She threw herself at him and slid across the deck on her stomach, arms extended. Axel snatched her up, and they embraced, just as another wave crashed against the deck, burying them in water. It knocked Blaze over, and she slid a few more metres, and saw a giant fuel drum rolling towards them. She stood, but lost her footing. An instant before she was crushed, Axel yanked her out of the way and the drum thundered past. Axel looked up to see several more drums rolling their way. He side-stepped, pulling Blaze with him, avoiding them all. Blaze turned and saw the other sailor brandishing a knife and moving her way. She reared back and punched him in the face, sending him rolling across the deck.

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Blaze paused to admire her work. At that moment, a net dropped over her head, and Shiva pummelled her with fists. The man took pleasure in his work, beating her hard and fast, again and again. Blaze tried to dodge the punches, to ward them off with her hands, and escape the net, but it was no use. All the drums that Axel had dodged when they rolled from port to starboard changed directions as the ship began to list the other way. Now they tumbled back in their direction, and this time they were also headed for a large stack of crates near him marked ‘TNT-DANGEROUS’. Axel shouted as one of the drums bore down on him. Shiva turned, saw the drum and tumbled across the deck. Blaze jerked away in the other direction, barely avoiding the drum. She struggled to pull the net away from her, and Axel began to help. It wouldn’t work. Then Axel looked up just in time to see another fuel drum rolling directly towards the explosives. There was just one thing to do, and he did it. He pushed Blaze, and the net, over the side of the boat. Then he hurtled himself over the side, and into the stormy seas. The moment he hit the water, the ship split apart in a fiery blast. Bits of debris rained from the sky as if they were part of the storm, and what remained of the ship quickly sank beneath the waves. The concussion of the water and the blast tore the net away from Blaze. She tumbled about in the water and finally bobbed to the surface like a piece of cork. Axel clutched her arms. He kicked frantically as he tried to keep his head above water. He grabbed for something for them to hold on to, went under, surfaced again, coughing and spitting out water. A Syndicate helicopter chopped the air overhead. Looking down from it was Shiva, drenched with seawater. He frowned at Axel and Blaze and dropped down a rope ladder shouting, “Get on!” Blaze whispered, “We can’t go with them. They’ll surely kill us…” Axel shrugged. “We have no choice. We’ll die if we stay here in the water…”

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21 Prisoners

The forklift rolled across the floor, thick rubber tyres silent on the smooth concrete. The powerful electric motor hummed louder as the driver slid the special hoop clamps around the X3 robot and lifted it. Carefully – the driver knew that breaking an android was a shooting offence – he backed off slightly, then pivoted the fork and headed off to the testing zone. Mr. X watched, nodding to himself as Robot X3 was carted away. The driver was good, he deftly avoided the hoses and powerlines connected to the bases of containers in the large storage room. Mr. X had more than a hundred robots undergoing construction here, each of which had a complex chemical form of Triazolam being drugged into it. X grinned, chewed on the end of his cigar. It was real tobacco, vat-grown and illegal as hell, but that didn’t mean shit. Out here, he was the law. The cigar wasn’t as good as those made from sun-raised and barn-dried leaves, but it was what he had. Oh, he still had six of the precious Jamaican Lonsdales left, dark as they came, but they were worth a fortune. He chuckled. As if money meant anything. Money was nothing to him – the Syndicate’s coffers were overflowing with billions of dollars. Mr. X had plans, big plans, and they amounted to no less than taking over the country, and then the world, using the deadliest soldiers a man had ever commanded. He turned and strode toward his office, trailing smoke as he walked. A military man was bred for war, and in this case, it was truer than usual. X paused, next to one of the robots. It was labelled ‘X127’. He put his hands on the metal plating. It was cold to the touch. Right now it was being pumped with Fire. He moved away from the robot, took another look at the killing machines around him. Hell of an army, this was. Would destroy for its master without hesitation. He nodded at them, then walked away. He rounded the corridor’s end and marched to the small office from where he ran the base, and opened the door, stepped inside. Shiva stood next to the gunny running the computer terminal, peering down at the screen. The office was spare, a chair, desk, couple of plaques on the sheet plastic walls. X circled the desk so that it was between him and Shiva, but did not sit in the chair. “Well?” “The latest shipment of Fire was destroyed, sir.” Shiva sighed. “There was nothing left to salvage.” X took his cigar from between his lips and looked at the cold ash on the end. He put the cigar down into the ashtray on his desk. “Continue.” “Blaze Fielding and Axel Stone were aboard the cargo ship, trying to smuggle themselves onto the island.” “I see. What became of them?”

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“There was a struggle, but I managed to capture them; they are now being held in a cell in the east wing of the base.” “Blaze Fielding is here?” X said. Shiva nodded. “Excellent.” X’s eyes half-closed in satisfaction. “That’ll be all.” “Sir.” Once Shiva was gone, X sat. He leaned back, put his boots up on the desk. Picked up the cigar and relit it. Took a drag and blew the smoke out in a blue-grey cloud. The ventilators whirred and sucked the smoke from the air. Maybe there was something to be gained here after all. The death of Blaze Fielding.

***

“You okay?” Axel asked Blaze. “Yeah, fine.” She answered. Axel looked around. The room was bigger than some cells he’d been in. Five metres by five, fold-out bunks now flush against the wall, reinforced sheetplast, a double-thick door with a simple snap lock. A chemical toilet rested in one corner, bare white, no seat, a roll of wipes perched on a sink with a single water tap next to it. Nice place. A guy handy with a sliver of spring steel could pop the lock easy enough. Thing was, on an island in the middle of nowhere, where were you gonna go if you did get out? “Did you see the monitors we passed?” Blaze asked. “Yeah. They’ve got cameras in place everywhere. I also noticed they’ve got a life-support system running. We must be underground.” Blaze nodded. “Underground. Yes. That would explain why the air tastes funny.” She took a deep breath. “This is some kind of military base, isn’t it?” Axel nodded. “Yeah. The Syndicate is a lot more organised than I had anticipated. Soldiers, hardware… I knew they were powerful, but this is beyond my imaginings.” “I don’t have much experience with the military mind, Axel. What is going on here?” “Hell if I know. Max said there was some kind of experiment going on involving Fire. And Adam is here somewhere.” “What do you think they’re going to do with us?” Axel shook his head. “Dunno.” “You take me to the nicest places, Axel.” He laughed. “Can’t say it’s been dull, can you?” Blaze managed a smile. “Nope. That’s a word that never crossed my mind. So, what now?” “Ball is in their court. We wait and see what they do with it. Get some sleep.” With that, Axel unfolded one of the cots and climbed onto it. Blaze did the same, pulling herself easily up against him. “This isn’t easy for me, you know,” Blaze whispered. Axel looked into her eyes. “What do you mean?”

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“Spending the night in this cell. It reminds me of Edgemont.” She shivered. “They used to put me in rooms like this one – bare white walls, and nothing to look at, nothing to keep me sane.” Axel wrapped his arms around her. “Come on. Forget about that place.” Blaze shook her head. “I can’t. It’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life. You could never understand how I feel. And what’s worse, now Mr. X has captured us, he’s bound to send me back there, to die. Alone.” Axel shook his head. “That’s not gonna happen, Blaze. Not while I’m around. I love you. I’m not going to leave you.” Blaze smiled. There was a moment of silence as she slowly undressed. When she was naked, she whispered, “fuck me.” Axel pulled off his clothes and slid quietly on top of her, taking his weight on his forearms, and Blaze suddenly sucked in air as her arms enfolded him. Embracing him with her fingers, she pulled him to her lips and kissed him. Her tongue sliced into his mouth, caressing the inside of his cheeks. Blaze let out a sharp breath of pleasure as his hands slid around her body, pressing, stroking, as he bent his mouth to kiss first one breast and then the other. Her breasts were moist with sweat, and her nipples had pebbled up and grown hard. His tongue moved lightly over her nipples and she gasped with lust. Her face was flushed, her eyes closed. She reached to pull him to her. “Please fuck me,” she whispered. He didn’t resist, flattered and excited by the look in her half-closed eyes. Her hands gripped the muscles of his upper arms, nails occasionally digging into his taut flesh as his shoulders tensed and relaxed with the movements of his body. He moved, stabbing through her wet dark hair, spreading the flesh beneath. He slid himself slowly into her vagina, enlarging, feeling the muscles inside her clamping down on him, squeezing his flesh with exquisite torment. Her hands turned to fists and the cords of her neck tautened. She moaned again and again. There was no stopping the convulsing of her sweat-flecked body. She began to scream now, the pleasure becoming unbearable. They had become one person, locked and moving slowly through the wonder of that great pleasure only woman can give to man, and man to woman. Blaze moaned as they formed the rhythm, lost it, then discovered a natural movement belonging only to them. Two people, locked as one. She sounded as if she were choking. He could smell her strongly on the night air. He moved so slowly that, at length, he heard her cry out in longing, felt her fingers in his hair, pulling him up her. “Fuck me,” she moaned, “Fuck me.” Her breasts shook, rivulets of moisture ran down her supple flesh. Her body was arched backward, pistoning frantically. She was gasping and moaning and he didn’t think he could hold out much longer. “Yes.” she cried to him. “Yes. Yes! Yes!” Her voice was ragged and there were uneven gasps between the words. “Oh! You’re fucking me!” He moved inside her with such rapidity that made her tremble. Her vagina squeezed his flesh and felt so good! “Oh!” she cried out, her body arching. “Oh, oh, oh, darling! I’m coming!” And in that moment, he felt a ring of muscles deep inside her gripping him, clamping his flesh even tighter now, and he too cried out, his legs giving way at last. Her arms came around him, pulling him hard against her, both of them still in orgasm.

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She murmured something, then their mouths closed on each other and they were swept away in that dance which neither ever wanted to end. Yet eventually it reached its peak in a kind of explosion and cleansing, sweeping them to the shore of some place beyond this cell, far from their previous experience. In that sweat-soaked, pulsing, exhausting moment, their eyes locked, so they both knew that should this be the last time either was consumed in passion it did not matter, for they had tasted everything possible, good, lasting, and memorable in physical love. Afterward, they lay quietly together, breathing hard, their bodies wet with sweat.

***

X leaned back in his chair, watching the video on his holoprojector. “Replay, security cam 77, 2330 hours.” The air above the desk lit with the images of Axel and Blaze having sex. “Increase volume one-eighth. Continuous tracking.” He watched it again, listened to Blaze gasping and moaning in orgasm. When she got off Axel, she rolled onto her cot and began to sleep. X watched it through again, at Blaze’s breasts, the way her buttocks squirmed over Axel. They moved well as a team, those two. “Sir?” X glanced up from the projector to the door. “Come.” The door opened and Shiva stood there. X waved one hand and shut the projection off. “Yes?” “Adam Hunter insists that he sees Axel Stone.” X shook his head. “Not yet, at least not until we find out what we can from them.” “That’s what I thought, sir.” “Let’s go have a little talk with them.” “Sir.”

***

Blaze awoke on the cot, blew her breath out in a big sigh. Shook her head. Axel was already awake and dressed, tying the laces on his shoes. “What’s happening?” Blaze asked, not bothering to sit up. “I don’t know,” Axel answered, “but I can hear people talking outside the cell. I think someone’s coming.” Blaze sat up. She was naked. She paused to stretch her muscles, then slipped into her clothes, just as the door opened. “Up and at ‘em, people,” came a voice from the entrance of the cell. Shiva stood there. “Mr. X wants to see you,” he said, watching Blaze button her shirt. “Tell him our calendar is full,” Axel said.

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Shiva grinned. “You tell him. Move out.” He waved a gun. Axel looked at Blaze, and shrugged. “Well, since you insist.” He stood and gave Blaze a few moments to compose herself. Hand in hand, they left the cell.

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22 Dinner With X

The table was, nearly as Axel could tell, black glass. Expensive for an officer’s mess on this island. The chairs were some kind of basic fold-out issue, but they’d been padded and spiffed by somebody with skill and time. Blaze sat to his left, both of them occupying one end of the table. Another dozen people could sit along the sides, but those chairs were empty. Mr. X sat at the other end, alone. A platter of roast meat sat in front of him, aromatic vapours wafting from it. A long knife and double-tine fork were stuck in the meat. “It’s German beef,” X said. He pulled the knife and fork from the roast and ran the edge of the blade back and forth along the fork tines, as if sharpening the knife. “It’s not bad.” He stabbed the roast with the fork and began to slice the beef. A servant, dressed in kitchen whites, came from the doorway behind X. By the time X had the first slab of beef carved free, the servant arrived and shoved a plate under it. X repeated the slice once more. When the plates had been delivered to Axel and Blaze, along with the glasses of red wine and eating implements, X carved himself a slice. X raised his glass. “To Neo-Pharm,” he said. What the hell, Axel thought. He lifted his own glass. Noticed that Blaze did the same thing without much enthusiasm. She was probably experiencing mixed emotions – after all, she was about to have dinner with the man that murdered her parents. The wine wasn’t bad. Axel had surely drunk a lot worse. “Eat,” X said. The cook was inspired, Axel had to admit. The beef was better than any he’d ever tasted. Right texture, right flavour. It was juicy and delicious. Whatever was going on inside Blaze’s head, Axel could see she was enjoying her meal, too. “Food okay?” X asked around a mouthful of it. Axel nodded. “Very good.” Blaze also nodded and mumbled something. This was strange territory and wherever this conversation was going, they’d decided to play along. It didn’t make sense to set him off until they had some idea of what was going on. This man wanted something from them, that was plain enough. What? “It has been brought to my attention that you have been looking for Sergeant Hunter, and your search led you to my island.” Axel chewed on the beef. Swallowed it. “Yessir.” X popped another chunk into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. “Been in service with him for a few years, correct?” “That’s right, sir.” The man nodded. His eyes seemed to take on a brighter steam. “Good, good.” He looked at Blaze. “What about you, little lady?”

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Axel saw that Blaze couldn’t bring herself to speak. “Sir,” he put in, “Blaze lived in a tribe on Cocos Island, off the coast of Costa Rica, before it was destroyed. The only survivor. Apparently, her name originated from her shocked squeals and flashbacks of the incident.” Mr. X raised one of his eyebrows. “Is that so?” Dumbly, Blaze managed a nod. “She survived on her own for more than eight years,” Axel said. X’s other eyebrow went up. “Really? Most resourceful. How old would you have been, then?” “Three,” Blaze managed. Another of the face-threatening smiles. “Excellent.” He ate another bite of the meat. “I envy you. Your survival is quite an achievement. A fluke, really, but no less heroic for that.” He pushed his plate away, less than half of the meat eaten. A servant zipped from the doorway, removed the plate, refilled X’s wine-glass, and vanished almost without a sound. X leaned back, sipped at the freshened wine. “The servants aren’t human, you know.” That got through to Blaze. “You’re making robots here?” “With the proper leader, my robots can spearhead the military siege of the United States of America, starting right here, with the West Coast,” X said. “Powered by Fire, my robots are unstoppable. Combined with our other technologies and experiments… well, the US government and its armed forces won’t stand a chance, let’s put it that way.” Blaze started to say something. Axel kicked her under the table. She closed her mouth. “Great idea, sir,” Axel said. X nodded, pleased. “I knew you would see it so,” he said. “When used in the correct way, Fire can provide a unique energy boost like no other drug on the earth.” “How can we help, sir?” Axel asked. Blaze looked at him as if he had lost his sanity. He kicked her under the table again without changing his expression. If X noticed Blaze’s look, it didn’t seem to register. “I want your advice, your knowledge of the Los Angeles police force, its defence capabilities. My troops must be as well prepared as they can be when I formulate my strategy.” “Certainly, sir,” Axel said. Stretched his own face into a smile. “And Blaze wants to help too, isn’t that right, Blaze?” Blaze nodded. “Right.” X was practically beaming now. He raised his wineglass. “A toast, then -” But before X could offer the toast, Shiva came in via the same door the servants had used. X frowned. “What is it, Shiva?” “Sorry to disturb your meal, sir. A security breach. The guard on the South Lock has been assaulted, the outer door burned open. One of the land crawlers is missing.” X waved one hand. “Oh, that.” Shiva blinked. “Sir?” “This is my base, Shiva. I try to keep up.” He looked at Axel. “You have to stay on top of things when you’re the boss. Enjoy the rest of your meal. You are free to go anywhere on Third Base; you have full clearance. If you have any questions,

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Shiva will be happy to answer them. I suppose I should go and see to the malcontents who have destroyed Syndicate property.” With that, he stood, gave Blaze a military bow that was barely a nod, and left with Shiva. Axel stared at X’s back as he left. Wished he had a gun at that moment.

In the hallway, X said to Shiva, “Keep an eye on them. I’m not too worried about Stone, it’s the girl I’m concerned about. If at any point she starts acting suspicious, blow her head off. And don’t fuck up.” X felt a happy satisfaction at watching Shiva swallow dryly when he gave him that order. Blow her head off.

Blaze found that she was shaking. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was afraid or angry. She stood, but Axel was right there. He hugged her, and before she could do more than stiffen and pull away, he whispered, “Play along, Blaze. They probably have a camera on us and a voice recorder.” She relaxed a little. “What?” “If we don’t do as this guy says, he is going to kill us. Play along.” The thought of that turned her bowels to lumps of dry ice. For a moment she couldn’t even breathe. She couldn’t think of anything to say. This was all so weird. “Come on, let’s explore a little. Might as well get acquainted with our new home, eh?” He winked at her. Blaze nodded. She understood. The more they knew about this place, the better. “Yeah,” she said. “Good idea.”

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23 Adam

Days passed; Axel and Blaze explored the base. It was like a dozen such places Axel had been in his career, standard hardware, as expensive as it could be and still work. The one thing he noticed that bothered him wasn’t the gear, but the people. There didn’t seem to be enough of them for a base of this size. If anything, the military usually had too many troops for the work needed, larger command being what officers liked to wave at each other. Warm bodies meant more than cold rock. Given the extent of the base, almost as big as a town, there ought to be several hundred more people staffing it. Eventually, Axel and Blaze worked their way into places not so easy to find or reach. “What’s in there?” Axel asked the guards posted in front of a large double door. The two troopers, one male, one female, wore holstered sidearms, but they didn’t seem particularly worried that they would need them. The man, who looked to be almost two metres tall, smiled down on Axel and Blaze. Axel said, “Mr. X has given us the run of the base. You want to open the door?” The guards looked at each other, then the man touched a control on the wall. The door opened, and Axel went in, followed by Blaze. They walked down narrow hallways; Blaze felt as if they were being watched. God, this was all so insane. Having spent years in a psychiatric hospital, because the authorities thought her memories were hallucinations, Blaze had some experience with madness. This was right up there. Mr. X ought to be in a silicone room somewhere, doped to the hairline, scheduled for full mental revision. He was the man who had destroyed her village in 1996, the one responsible for her years of silence and darkness, her years in the hospital and her many scrapes with death. He was fucking crazy and should be put away. They came to a door marked ‘Communications’. It slid open as they approached. A man sat, his head in his hands, sobbing lightly. The room was dark, inadequately illuminated. A computer screen flickered. Blaze stared at the man. “Hello?” she asked. The man looked up, and Blaze gasped. It was Adam Hunter.

His left arm was bandaged crudely from wrist to elbow, his clothes dirty and torn. A dark and grimy baseball cap was pulled down over his head. “Axel?” he was saying. “Blaze?”

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Axel helped Adam stagger to his feet. “What happened?” he asked. “It’s a long story,” Adam puffed. Axel spread his arms wide. “I’m all ears.” Adam looked around. He spoke in a whisper. “When you cleared Blaze’s name six months ago, I discovered that the files you salvaged from that government computer contained more information than we originally thought. A lot of it was encoded. So, while you were busy helping Blaze get through her police academy training, I spent my time getting these codes translated – turns out it was info regarding this island facility. It wasn’t much to go on, but I followed up a hunch, and managed to find the island. I was going to return to the mainland, but I was captured. When Mr. X asked me how I managed to find him, I refused to tell him. He sent Shiva across to LA to search my apartment. When I had the chance, I managed to escape my cell, and get my hands on a land crawler. However, a self-destruct mechanism was activated from a remote source, and I struggled into this room.” Axel nodded. Things started to make sense now. The security breach Shiva had mentioned. The missing land crawler. “Are you okay?” Axel asked. Adam nodded. “I think so. There’s somebody after me, though, and we have to get out of here, before it’s too –” Footsteps, approaching down the corridor. “Fuck,” Blaze said. “Looks like they’ve found us already. Fuck!” Axel saw the man step into the room, but not who he was – the hangar lights were dim and the lamps were not much brighter. The man looked around. “Over here,” Axel said. The man tensed, dropped his hand toward his hip and the handgun clipped there, then froze. He straightened, then moved closer. It was Shiva. “Game’s over, people,” he said. “This area’s been restricted. I’ll have to ask you to return to your quarters.” Axel stood. “Who gives you those orders?” “Mr. X,” Shiva answered, “and I don’t intend to disobey. Now move.” He pulled the gun from the holster and gestured down the corridor. Blaze went first, followed by Axel then Adam. Without a shred of remorse, they returned to quarters.

***

The miracle of modern chemistry failed to put Blaze to sleep. She added to 4 tablets of raw Triazolam the relaxation drill she’d learned in the hospital, but after three rounds of pleading her muscles to relax she was still awake. Axel and Adam had gone, where she didn’t know. And at this particular moment, she didn’t care. Right. Fuck this. Blaze stood, exhausted but past the point where she could drop off. Washed her face and looked at herself in the small mirror over the basin. Her image stared back, hollow-eyed, her muscles taut with strain. When Axel had broken her out of

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Edgemont – so long ago it now seemed – her dark, brown hair had been shoulder length. Now it reached halfway down her back. She dried her face under the blower, took a few deep breaths, and left the little room. Ahead, the doorway to the communications shack loomed. Wasn’t even closed. Of course, they didn’t have any reason to worry about security. Or at least, they hadn’t until now. The area had been restricted – and Blaze intended to find out why. When she stepped into the small room, she saw a technician sitting in one of the chairs. Axel stood, a gun in his hands, pointed directly at the tech’s face. “Back away from the console,” Axel said. Blaze looked at him. “Axel. What -?” The tech started to touch a control. “Uh-uh, lady, you don’t want to do that.” He waved the gun at her. “Roll the chair back and stand up slowly.” The tech, unarmed, did as she was told. “Axel!” “Come stand over here, Blaze.” She shook her head in puzzlement, but complied. Axel opened fire on the console, and raked the screens. He was using a silencer so the sound was muted, but the two women covered their ears with their hands. The tech screamed. Thirty rounds were plenty. The hard plastic chipped and shattered, delicate circuits shorted out, and the flat screens starred and ran out of image, turning a dark grey. Long-range communications on this island were history, at least for a while, and if they hurried, they might just be able to escape. “Axel, what the fuck are you doing?” “Staging a coup. Or a mutiny. We’re getting the hell out of here.” “What about Adam?” “He’s getting some weapons ready. I’ll explain later.” Blaze licked her lips. “I’m with you.” Axel nodded at the cowering technician. “Come on, then. Tell me about communications elsewhere on the island.”

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24 The Great Escape

Blaze followed Axel down the corridor. “We’ll get you a gun, Blaze,” he said. “Soon as we get control of the situation on this level.” “What exactly are we doing here?” she asked. “Taking sides,” he said. “Adam has given me a list of men and women who we can depend on to lean our way. And the transponder co-ordinates of the troops who are likely to stay loyal to Mr. X. We’re going to round up and destroy the robots. Then when he comes home, we won’t have so much to worry about. We take him down, avenge your family’s death, flush all this demented shit away, and live happily ever after.” “You’ve said that before,” Blaze said. “I’m still working on it. Give me a little time.” He grinned. Blaze returned the smile. She was tired and had a lot on her mind, but she had no trouble buying into this scenario. If they didn’t do something about the madman running this base, he would kill them all sooner or later. Win or lose, this had to be better than the alternative. “Do you know where Adam is?” “If he’s where he’s supposed to be, yeah. He’ll be rigging an override in lifesupport’s auxiliary control by now.” “Why there?” “Well, the base is military, so there are modular fail safes all over for heat and light, but if the mains go down, the emergency doors shut tight. Our side has the new override codes, their side won’t. They’ll be bottled up unless we let them out.” “Nice trick.” “I thought so. Adam’s idea. He’s not much of a field cop, but he’s good behind a computer.” Axel pulled a small device from his belt, looked at it. “Ah, here we go. There are five of these X-Robots just ahead. Stay behind me until we get the field of fire on them.” “Copy that.” “Feels good to be moving, doesn’t it?” Blaze nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.” Another of X’s prisoners arrived right after Axel and Blaze, also armed with a carbine. Axel nodded to him. “That’s Quinn,” Axel said to Blaze. “He’s been helping to get some of Mr. X’s followers on our side.” “You’ve been busy,” Blaze puffed. They were joined by others, all armed. Up ahead, five X-Robots emerged from round the corner. “Fuck!” Blaze screamed. She was unarmed, and leapt to the ground. As she hit the floor, machine guns rattled.

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“Christ, they’re all around us!” Quinn yelled. His voice was cut into a gurgle as an X-Robot blew his head apart. Axel fired, cutting through the robots. “Oh man, oh man, what the hell are these things?” he shouted. They ran to the end of the corridor, the robots in pursuit. The door slid up. One of the robots stood there. “Shit!” Axel pulled the trigger, bullets spraying everywhere, shells toppling onto the ground. The robot fell, hit the floor as the team leapt through the door before it slid shut. The pursuing robots were cut off. Blaze, tired, said, “Fuck. Seven of us against five of them, and now we’re down to four. Mr. X has hundreds of those bastards under construction. We’ll be killed before we make it out. We’re fucked! We’re completely fucked!” “Calm down, Blaze,” Axel said. The lights blinked out, followed by the sound of fire doors dropping into place. That would be Adam. The emergency lighting popped on almost immediately. Well. So far, so good. Axel hoped it would all go so easy.

***

Axel seemed to have things well planned and under control, Blaze saw. As they moved through the base, Axel used a magnetic card and keypad code to open the fire doors. He must have forgotten that he was going to give Blaze a gun, because she hadn’t collected one yet. “Where are we going?” Blaze asked him. “No time for explanations,” Axel said. “Mr. X is currently off the island. He returns in precisely one hour. Shiva is with him. There’s nobody running the place.” “He knows what he’s doing,” Blaze said. Axel just shook his head. “Move, sister. You believe that, you’re as crazy as he is.” “What about Adam?” “He’s okay. He’s standing by the life-support controls until we get there.” “Where are we going?” “To give Mr. X a welcome home party. Once he’s gone, we’re gonna put all his pet robots to sleep.” Blaze shook her head. “Thank God.” “Whoever. Let’s go.”

Adam looked as if he were about to try to climb a wall, Blaze thought, watching the man pace. His hands shook, he was pale, sweat beaded at his hairline and on his upper lip. There were a dozen machine guns side by side on a table in the room, with boxes of magazines stacked next to them. While Axel went out to talk with Adam, Blaze moved towards the weapons. Whatever happened, she wasn’t going to be standing around helplessly. A trooper with a carbine slung across his chest started to swing his weapon around as Blaze approached. “Axel,” Blaze said.

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Axel turned away from Adam. “Let her have one,” he said to the trooper. The trooper nodded. Blaze picked up a machine gun, racked the action, checked it over – the gun was empty – then pulled a magazine from an open box and loaded it into the piece. She took three more hundred-round AP mags from the box and put them into her pockets, one under her belt. With four hundred shots, she could theoretically kill a lot of things, if they didn’t get her first. She slung the weapon over her shoulder. She felt a little better, now that she was armed. Axel and Adam went back and forth; it was easy to see that Adam was scared shitless. He was a man of peace, Axel had told her, should have been a preacher or a medic and not a cop. Behind her, Axel and Adam had begun yelling at each other. “Listen,” Axel said, his voice hard, “get the locks covered! Weld them shut, especially the cargo doors! You don’t know what kind of code-breaking gear X might have. He might have access to the mainframe from out there.” Adam blew out a short breath. “All right. I’ll give the order.” Axel nodded. Looked at Blaze. Blaze didn’t know much about military matters, but it seemed as if the next move was up to Mr. X. She didn’t like that very much. The man was crazy. There was no telling what he was going to do. All they could do was wait.

The helicopter landed, and Mr. X led his platoon of soldiers along the wall of the East Lock. He knew something had gone wrong inside the base. There had been gunfire, and explosions. “I should have killed that Blaze Fielding when I had the chance,” Shiva hissed. “Don’t worry,” X said. “She won’t get far.” Nobody knew they were here. He had his demolitions expert set the explosive charges on the Lock door itself, stressing great care, using only hand signals and conduction. All radios were off. The charges set, his men in readiness, X pulled the special transmitter from his tool belt and looked at the covered button. He had not expected it would ever really come to this. He flipped the button cover up with his gloved hand and pressed the control once, hard. Grinned evilly. Blaze Fielding and her little band of would-be heroes were about to have something to worry about in there. Yes, sir, right now, the security door to the chamber containing 150 X-Robots would be sliding up, and a tiny holographic image of Mr. X would be ordering them to hunt down and destroy Blaze Fielding, urging them out of the chamber. “Dinnertime,” X said. “Come and get it.”

“Motherfucker!” a man screamed. Gunfire rattled. Adam touched controls on the monitor. The picture splashed into life in full colour, the holo-projection of the security guard firing his weapon at something offscreen. Adam fiddled with the controls; the view shifted slightly. Revealed the open door.

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“Oh, man!” Axel said. The guard screamed again. A robot shot into sight, punched through the chest of the trooper. The man went slack, his weapon falling. “Fuck!” Blaze said. “He’s turned the killer robots loose!” “Get to the jetships,” Axel said, his face grim. “This base is contaminated. We’re all dead if we stay here.” But at least Mr. X’s plan was shot. He’d play hell rounding up the robots with the men he had left.

Five minutes after the robots were set free and encouraged to kill anything in their way, X nodded, and the demolitions man blew the hatch. A boom, and the metal of the lock peeled open. “Go!” Guards inside began firing, the ones who hadn’t been knocked sprawling by the concussion at least. X’s men had the advantage of surprise, however, and only one of his troops went down before the lock was secured. They were in, the enemy was in disarray, and this mission was going as well as anybody could expect. And he wasn’t done yet, oh no. Blaze Fielding had crossed him, and she would regret it, assuming she lived long enough.

Axel ran, machine gun held ready to fire, Blaze and Adam right behind him. The base’s battle alarm screeched, a high-low wee-wah that repeated itself over and over. Red lights flashed at every turning of the hallway, and men and women ran in panic, fleeing something most of them knew about but hadn’t encountered yet. X had let the goddamned robots out, somehow, and they would be on a murdering frenzy. Blaze held her gun close to her chest. A robot lurched into the hallway from an open door, turned towards the three of them, and raised its gun. “Fuck you,” Blaze said. She popped the gun up, and fired a quick burst. The armour-piercing rounds smashed the robot’s face, shreds of its jaw flew, blood sprayed. It fell sideways and backward, hit the wall, slid to the floor. Her ears rang. Damn. Should have put her plugs in. Oh well, if she lived long enough she could deal with it. They ran.

A trooper came around the corner with his weapon up. X was the first to see him. He drew his pistol, brought it up and fired twice in the heart, once in the head. The trooper wasn’t wearing armour, so any of the three shots would have been enough to kill him. As the man fell, X felt that sense of triumph, that rush of survival he got whenever he killed someone. He would keep one bullet in his pistol. That one he would save for Blaze Fielding.

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“Adam?” “This way,” he said. Axel turned to look at Blaze. “I’m fine,” Blaze said, though she was out of breath. Somebody screamed behind them, a sound that trailed off into a liquid gurgle. “The clock is running, people.” It seemed to Blaze that she had been running most of her life. This was not the time nor the place to stop. “Go,” she said. “I’m right behind you.” They went. One of Mr. X’s marines leapt in on them, screaming. Blaze and Axel both fired at the same time. The man did a twisting jig as he fell, and his chest blew open, his blood splattering the wall. Blaze felt sick. Killing never got any easier. But she kept moving. Selfpreservation ruled.

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25 Judgement Day

Adam listened to the com he carried, shook his head. He and Blaze and Axel were in the approach corridor leading to the jetship hangars. They still had lights and power, though much of the base had apparently been shut down. Panicky reports came over the com, voices blending into a continuous and frightened wail: “Life-support shutdown in D-2!” “It got Galsia, it just took him -!” “Air doors are down, air doors down -” “- are under fire, somebody is shooting here -” “Robots are -” The sound of explosions, gunfire, metal on metal, and other sounds of death and confusion came, too. Adam was on the edge of full-blown panic himself, Axel could see that. His face was pale, sweaty, and he clutched at the com as if it were some kind of lifeline. “The base is overrun,” he said. “We’re fucked. I should have known better than to try Mr. X. He’s a killer. He’s a madman. We’re all doomed!” “Listen,” Axel said, as if talking to a child. “Listen, we can get away. We’ll take one of the jetships.” Adam shook his head. “Can’t. It takes too long to program a launch. They’ll get us. They’ll get us.” “We’ll run an old program,” Axel said. “Take one of the ships back to where it came from.” “Not a good idea. They came from Washington D.C., all of them.” “Then we’ll just have to pilot them manually! Move, Adam!” Adam stared at him. Nodded. “Okay. You’re in charge now, okay?” Ahead of them, a pair of robots stepped out of the shadows. Axel slid over next to Blaze, who saw them. They stood shoulder to shoulder and raised their guns. It got noisy in the corridor. “Let’s go, Adam. Stay with us.” The trio moved toward the hangar entrance.

The hangar was still vacant – no robots had managed to get in. After the two in the hallway, Adam’s command override had admitted the trio through the locked door without any problems. The hangar was quiet. “Which ship is the easiest to access?” “Over there,” Adam said. He pointed.

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The jetship was sleek, black; it resembled a stealth fighter. “All aboard,” Axel said. He waved his gun at the ship.

The base was a wreck. X and Shiva moved through the chaos, shooting whatever got in their way. Mostly, the targets were people, but they did cut down on a couple of robots. He did not intend to retreat. X was not a poor man. He led Shiva and his troops toward the jetship hangars.

Blaze was beyond fear now, her adrenaline surge no more than a trickle, just enough to keep her alert. It was odd to think you could get used to something like this, but it seemed to be happening. Or maybe she was finally losing her mind. She was too tired to care which it was. Next to her, Axel said, “Well?” He was talking to Adam, who frowned at the control unit he held. Adam tapped in a series of numbers on the small device, then looked at the ship the three of them stood in front of. “The hatch isn’t opening,” Adam said. “I can see that. Why not?” Adam shook his head. “I don’t know. This is the Command Override, it’s supposed to open every lock in the base, right down to the beer coolers in the kitchen. It’s the one X carries when he’s here. It has worked so far. It should work here.” “Are you sure you entered the correct code?” Blaze said. “Yes, I’m sure.” Axel sighed. “Mr. X. He’s fucked us again. We should have guessed it. We have to run a bypass.” “That’ll take time,” Adam said. “The access panel is armoured.” “I don’t see we have much of a fucking choice,” Blaze said.

X and his troops reached the outer hangar via the emergency escape tunnel he’d had built. The two transports in the huge room stood silent. They were alone. He almost felt sorry for the enemy. So outclassed. Blaze Fielding never really had a chance. “Okay, into the inner hangar.” They moved down the interlink.

“I think that’s got it,” Axel said. The access panel for the hatch control had to be burned open, but once that was done, the circuits were fairly easy to reroute. Axel bypassed the electronics entirely, shut off the power to the hatch, and used the manual crank and began winding the hatch up, when he heard a voice: “Freeze!”

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Axel turned to look, saw half a dozen marines in full battle gear pointing their weapons at them. He leapt for his gun where it leaned against the jetship, saw Blaze swing her weapon up to firing position. Guns rattled. Axel picked up Blaze with his powerful arms, and threw her into the jetship’s three-man cockpit. He followed, and so did Adam, ducking whizzing bullets that blew past their ears. “Stop them!” X cried. “For Christ’s sake, stop them!”

“We’re clear of the base and are moving at about 500mph,” Axel said. Blaze nodded dully, but didn’t speak. The black jetship shot through the blue sky, the sunset glimmering over the Pacific Ocean. Adam had the ship’s control stick in his hands, and turned it in such a way that the ship spun round and began heading back towards Mr. X’s island. At full speed. The ship was travelling so fast that it was flying over the island in seconds. Adam smiled to himself as he clutched the control stick. “This is for you, Blaze,” he said, and pulled the hellfire trigger. There was a roar of flame from beneath the ship, and they could see a trail of thick white smoke as a pair of hellfires raged towards the base. Axel and Blaze stared. Axel looked down and realised that Blaze was holding his hand.

“Launch the missiles!” X cried. “Launch the fucking missiles!” His squad moved to control panels. As X watched, the door slid up, and one of his robots stood there, evil glowing in its eyes, covered in blood, its gun held high. “Fuck –” Then the robot grabbed X, and lifted him, using its large, mechanical arms. He struggled. Cursed. “Shiva! Shiva! Do something!” X cried. It was all going wrong! It wasn’t supposed to be like this! The robot reached up and caught X around the throat. With a quick move, the robot ripped his head off. It dropped the body into the mud below the ramp. Held the head for a moment longer, then tossed it aside. The expression on the dead man’s face was one of absolute terror. “So much for the revolution,” Shiva said, staring at X’s body. He raised his gun, fired. The robot blew apart at the legs, then the chest, and with a few more bullets the head blew up. Circuits flew, and rained down over X’s head. The soldiers watched silently. Shiva stared at them. “I’m in charge, now. Launch the missiles as Mr. X has asked you.” They got to work. But then, Shiva could hear a rumbling sound, getting louder, getting closer. “Fuck,” he said. Oh, yeah. The hellfires hit the roof, tore into the base, and the world turned white.

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Epilogue New Beginnings

The sun shone high in the sky, and the city of Los Angeles was bustling with midday traffic. Pedestrians and tourists went about their business, blissfully unaware of the danger that Mr. X and the Syndicate had posed to the city before his grisly demise. Police Chief O’Hara sat behind his desk, reviewing Adam’s final report on the events of the past few days. Axel and Blaze stood with Adam in front of the desk, anxiously awaiting the Chief’s evaluation. After taking a few more moments, O’Hara looked up at them and smiled. “Congratulations guys,” he said. “Where do I begin? You’ve helped us locate a great deal of stolen military technology, and put a large number of criminals behind bars. By exposing the corrupt plans of George Xetheus to the US Senate, and the world at large, you’ve dealt a crippling blow to the criminal Syndicate. You’ve truly done justice for the slaughter of Blaze’s tribe here…” Blaze nodded. This was good to hear. “Mr. X’s corpse was recovered from the wreckage of the base earlier this morning,” O’Hara told them. What he didn’t mention, however, was that he’d personally delivered the remains to Syndicate scientists at RoboCy Corporation. “I can confirm that the US government will indeed impeach the corrupted President,” he continued, “and hold an election for his replacement.” He paused, pulling some badges out of his desk drawer, and stood up. “Well done. You’re all promoted to Police Captain.” He threw the badges to them. “You’ve done your city, and your country, a great service.” Axel put one arm around Blaze’s back, and she smiled.

Later, the trio stopped off at the bridge to overlook the Pacific Ocean and the sun as it set its orange beams over the sparkled water. It was a beautiful sight, and Axel often came here to wind down. “Mr. X is finally dead,” Blaze whispered. She watched the sun set and sink lower into the horizon. “All his robots have been destroyed.” Axel hugged her. “And we survived.” Blaze reached into her handbag and pulled out her medicine bottle. She held it to her face; stared at the tablets of Fire inside. She smiled, and opened the bottle. Axel looked surprised. “Blaze?” “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m never going to take these drugs again.” With that, she held the bottle out over the edge of the bridge, and turned it upside-down. The three remaining tablets of Fire fell from view, and they heard a tiny splash far below them. It was over. They had defeated Mr. X. They had saved the city.

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Axel got in the front seat of his Mercedes and donned his sunglasses. Blaze climbed into the passenger seat, and Adam got in the back. Axel revved the engine. “I think a celebration’s in order…” Axel began. “You said it, Ax,” Adam howled. “Viva Las Vegas, baby! Let’s go!” Axel slid a disc into the car’s CD Player, and pushed the car into gear, leaving the past behind them, zooming off into a new future, a future life, on the Streets of Rage.

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BOOK III

PROJECT Y

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Prologue Los Angeles International Airport, June 2017

No-one paid the slightest attention to Leon Shiva as he slipped around the crowd of media correspondents who overflowed from the interior of the VIP lounge. Nor did any of the passengers notice that he carried a large duffel bag instead of a briefcase. Five minutes ago he had murdered the real pilot and stolen his uniform. He had a fake ID card, courtesy of his insider in the LAPD. No-one would be able to tell that he wasn’t Captain Dale Lemke. He kept his head down, eyes straight ahead, carefully avoiding the battery of TV cameras aimed at Police Chief O’Hara, who was the hub of the noisy activity. Shiva quickly walked through the enclosed boarding ramp and halted in front of a pair of airport security officials. They wore plain clothes and blocked the aircraft door. He threw a casual wave and tried to shoulder his way past them, but a hand firmly grasped his arm. “One moment, Captain.” Shiva stopped, a questioning but friendly expression on the man’s darkskinned face. He seemed mildly amused at the inconvenience. His icy-blue eyes had a gypsy-like piercing quality about them. The nose had been broken more than once, and a long burn scar ran down the length of his face. He was somewhere in his late thirties. Seasoned, confident, and standing straight in a tailored uniform, he looked like any one of ten thousand airline pilots who captained international passenger jets. He removed his identification from a breast pocket and handed it to the security agent. “Carrying VIPs this trip?” Shiva asked innocently. The guard nodded. “A body of LAPD police officials.” He compared the photo on the ID card with the face before him and read the name aloud. “Captain Dale Lemke.” “Any problem?” “No, simply preventing any,” the guard answered flatly. Shiva extended his arms. “Do you want to frisk me too?” “Not necessary. A pilot would hardly hijack his own plane. But we must check your credentials, to be certain you’re a genuine crew member.” “I’m not wearing this uniform for a fancy-dress party.” “May we see your flight bag?” “Be my guest.” He set the blue nylon bag on the floor and opened it. The second official lifted out and riffled the pages of the standard pilot’s aircraft and flight operations manual and then held up a mechanical device with a small hydraulic cylinder. “Mind telling us what this is?” “An actuator arm for an oil cooling door. It stuck in the open position, and our maintenance people asked me to carry it to Paris for inspection.”

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The agent poked at a bulky object tightly packed on the bottom of the bag. “Hello, what do we have here?” Then he looked up, a curious expression in his eyes. “Since when do airline pilots carry parachutes?” Shiva laughed. “My hobby is skydiving. Whenever I have an extended stopover, I jump with friends.” “I don’t suppose you would consider jumping from an airliner?” “Not from one flying five hundred knots at thirty-five-thousand feet over the Atlantic Ocean.” The officials exchanged satisfied glances. The duffel bag was closed and the ID card passed back. “Sorry to have delayed you, Captain Lemke.” “I enjoyed the chat.” “Have a good flight to Paris.” “Thank-you.” Shiva ducked into the plane and entered the cockpit. He locked the door and switched off the cabin lights so that any casual observer could not view his movements through the windows from the concourse above. In well-rehearsed sequence, he knelt behind the seats, pulled a small flashlight from his coat pocket and raised a trapdoor leading to the electronics bay below the cockpit. He dropped down the ladder into pure darkness, underscored by the murmur of the flight attendants’ voices as they prepared the main cabin for boarding and the thump of luggage being loaded in the rear by baggage handlers. Shiva reached up and tugged the duffel bag down after him and switched on a penlight. A glance at the pilot’s watch told him he had about five minutes before his flight crew arrived. Quickly, he retrieved the actuator arm from the bag and connected it to a miniature timing device he had concealed in his flight cap. He attached the assembled unit to the hinges of a small access door to the outside used by ground maintenance mechanics. Then he laid out the parachute. When his first and second officers arrived, Shiva was sitting in the pilot’s seat, his face buried in the airport information manual. They exchanged casual greetings and began running through their pre-flight check routine. Neither the co-pilot nor the engineer perceived that Lemke seemed unusually quiet or withdrawn. Their senses might have been sharper if they had known that this was to be their last night on earth.

After waiting its turn behind the warm exhaust of a TWA 747, the aeroplane finally moved on to the end of the runway. When take-off clearance came down from the control tower, Shiva eased the thrust levers forward and the Boeing 720-B rose softly into the air. As soon as he reached his cruising altitude of 35,000 feet and engaged the autopilot, Shiva unbuckled his belt and rose from his seat. “A call of nature,” he said, heading for the cabin door. His second officer and engineer, a freckle-faced man with sandy hair smiled without turning from the instrument panel. “I’ll wait right here.” Shiva forced a short laugh and stepped into the passenger cabin. The flight attendants were preparing the meal service. The aroma of roast chicken came stronger than ever. He made a gesture and drew the chief steward aside. “Can I get you anything, Captain?” she asked. “Just a cup of coffee,” he replied. “But don’t bother, I can manage.”

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“No bother.” The steward stepped into the galley and poured a cup. “There is one other thing.” “Sir?” “The company has asked us to take part in a government sponsored meteorology study. Once we’re halfway to Paris, I’m going to drop down to five thousand feet for about ten minutes while we record wind and temperature readings. Then return to our normal altitude.” “Hard to believe the company agreed. I wish my bank account totalled what it will cost in lost fuel. I’ll inform the passengers when the time comes so they won’t be alarmed.” Shiva’s eyes swept the main cabin, pausing for an instant on the sleeping form of Blaze Fielding before moving on. “We’re carrying a lot of police officials this trip,” Shiva observed conversationally. The steward shrugged. “One of those reporters told me there’s going to be some kind of international police summit in Paris.” “Indeed.” Shiva smiled. “Well, I must be getting back. I’ll keep the cockpit door locked. Call me on the intercom only if it’s important.” “Will do.” Shiva took a sip of the coffee, grimaced, set it aside and returned to the cockpit, closing the door behind him. The first-officer, his co-pilot, was gazing out of the side window at the Nevada desert while behind him the engineer was occupied with computing fuel consumption. Shiva came up behind the co-pilot, and in one swift motion, grabbed his head and twisted it sharply, snapping his neck. The co-pilot went limp and reeled backwards. He fell against the pilot’s seat and crashed to the cockpit floor. “What the fuck-” the engineer turned, and Shiva’s fist launched into his face, knocking him back. Impossibly fast, Shiva reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife, stabbing it deeply into the man’s neck. The engineer gargled, spluttered blood, then had a blank expression on his face. He shook his head as if to clear his vision. Then his eyes rolled upward, and he went limp. Shiva rose awkwardly to his feet, and listened for any curious voices coming from the other side of the door. The main cabin seemed quiet. None of the passengers or flight crew had heard anything unusual above the monotonous whine of the engines. He settled behind the control column on the pilot’s side of the cockpit and plotted the aircraft’s position. Forty-five minutes later, Shiva banked the plane from its scheduled flight path to Paris onto a new heading, towards the frozen Arctic.

Shortly before midnight, Shiva began his drill to abandon the jetliner. The air was sparkling clear and the dim smudge that was the North Pole rose above the black, flat horizon line of the sea. The icy continent was outlined by a faint but eerie display of greenish rays. The death of Blaze Fielding was more than an obligation to Shiva. It was his duty, and he would not rest until she was out of the picture. Obviously, he would have to kill Axel Stone as well. Both of them had been responsible for the destruction of Mr. X’s Syndicate Base two years earlier, an incident that had almost cost Shiva his life, and had very nearly destroyed the Syndicate itself. Shiva considered himself very lucky to have escaped that island in one piece.

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Axel Stone and Blaze Fielding were both passengers aboard this craft. Blaze was a threat that had to be nullified, especially now. The Syndicate had bounced back, had spent two years recovering from that fateful day… and once again had big plans…not just for the city of LA, but now for the whole world. Very soon, the Syndicate’s latest plan was going to begin, and they could not permit those meddling cops to get in the way. Killing them would give him great pleasure. He gently eased back on the throttles and nudged the control column forward, beginning a shallow rate of descent. The main cabin crew had not bothered him. By now the passengers were dozing into a sleep so elusive on long aircraft flights. For the twentieth time he rechecked his heading and studied the dwindling numbers on the panel computer, which he had reprogrammed to indicate the time and distance to his drop zone. Fifteen minutes later the jetliner crossed over an uninhabited island and headed over the Arctic Sea. He lowered the flaps and reduced speed until the Boeing 720-B was flying at 220 miles an hour. He re-engaged the autopilot on a new radio frequency transmitted from a beacon placed on a glacier mountain rising 5791 feet from the centre of the North Pole. Then he set the altitude so that the aircraft would impact 500 feet below the peak. Methodically, he smashed and disabled the communication and direction indicators. He also began dumping fuel as a backup in case a flaw somehow marred his plan. Eight minutes to go. He dropped through the trapdoor, and strapped the main chute onto his back, clipping the harness straps. He glanced at his watch. One minute, twenty seconds. He opened the escape door and a rush of air swept in. He studied the second hand on his watch and began counting down. When it reached zero, he launched his body through the narrow opening feet first, facing in the direction of the flight. The velocity of the airstream struck him with the icy force of an avalanche. The plane soared past with a deafening roar. For an instant he felt the heat from the turbine’s exhaust, and then he was away and falling. As he plummeted toward the ground, the aircraft with its unsuspecting crew and passengers flew straight towards the glacier. Shiva watched as the faint sound of the jet engines died and the navigation lights melted into the black night. Down below, a team of Syndicate henchmen would be waiting for his arrival. He pulled on the chute.

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1 The Frozen Arctic

Back in the galley, Blaze Fielding tilted her head, listening. “What’s that funny noise coming from the cockpit?” she asked. Axel Stone stood up and stepped into the aisle, facing the bow of the plane. He could hear what sounded like a continuous muffled roar, almost like rushing water in the distance. Ten seconds after Shiva’s exit, the timer on the actuator set the hydraulic arm in motion, closing the hatch in the cabin and cutting off the strange sound. “It stopped,” he said. “I don’t hear it anymore.” “What do you suppose it was?” Blaze asked. “Can’t say. I’ve never heard anything quite like it. For a moment I thought we might have suffered a pressure leak.” Blaze brushed back her dark hair. “Maybe you’d better check it out with the Captain.” Axel hesitated, remembering Captain Lemke’s order not to bother the flight crew except for a matter of importance. Better safe than sorry. He lifted the intercom phone to his ear and pressed the cockpit call button. “Captain, this is Police Captain Stone. We’ve just experienced a weird noise forward of the main cabin. Is there a problem?” He received no reply. He tried three times, but the receiver remained dead. He stood there at a loss for several moments, wondering why the flight crew did not respond. He was still trying to work it out when Blaze rushed up and said something. At first he ignored her; but the urgency in her voice got through to him. “What. . . what did you say?” “We’re over ice!” “Ice?” “Directly beneath us,” she said, eyes blank with confusion. “The flight attendant pointed it out to me.” Axel shook his head doubtfully. “Impossible. We have to be near Paris by now.” “See for yourself,” she pleaded. “The ground is coming up fast. I think we’re landing.” He stepped over to the galley window, and looked down. There was a glimmer of white. A vast sheet of ice was slipping under the aircraft no more than 800 feet below. It was near enough for the navigation lights to be reflected in the ice. He froze, uncomprehending, trying to make some sense out of what his eyes told him was true. If this was an emergency landing, why hadn’t the captain alerted the main cabin crew? The ‘Fasten seat belts’ and ‘No Smoking’ signs had not come on.

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Dread flared within Axel, and the words rushed from his mouth: “What the hell is going on?” Blaze mirrored his dread. Her face paled and her eyes widened. “Shouldn’t we begin emergency procedures?” “Don’t alarm the other passengers. Not yet anyway. Let me check with the captain first.” “Is there time?” “I don’t know.” Controlling his fear, Axel walked quickly, almost at a jog, towards the cockpit, faking a bored yawn to divert any junior officer’s curiosity at his rapid step. He whipped the curtain closed that shielded the boarding entryway from the main cabin. Then he tried the door. It was locked. He frantically rapped his knuckles against the door. No-one answered from inside. He stared dumbly, then, in a flash of desperation, he lashed out his foot and kicked in the door. The blow smashed it against the inner bulkhead. Axel stepped over the threshold and stared into the cramped space of the cockpit. Disbelief, bewilderment, fear, horror: they swirled through his mind like a flood hurtling through a shattered dam. He saw the engineer slumped at his panel, the co-pilot stretched on the floor, face up, eyes staring sightlessly at the cabin roof. The captain had seemingly vanished. Blaze stepped into the room behind him, and gasped in horror. “Fuck!” she breathed. Axel stumbled over the co-pilot’s body, leaned across the empty pilot’s seat, and stared terror-struck through the windscreen. The massive summit of the glacier loomed beyond the nose of the aircraft about two miles away. The ice was stained with ghostly shades of grey and green. The sharp, cold air made the glacier appear close enough to reach out and touch. “Fuck,” Blaze said again. “What the fuck are we going to do?” Axel looked around the cockpit frantically, and saw the open trapdoor. He swallowed hard before sitting down in the pilot’s seat. “Hang on!” He grabbed the wheel and pulled it outwards, and the plane instantly responded to the controls. They felt the nose of the plane lift, and it soared over the glacier, the left wing smashing across the peak. Blaze grabbed onto the back of the chair to prevent herself from being thrown forward. There was an enormous groan of metal as the wing was torn from the main bulk of the plane. Blaze fell, hitting her head hard. Her skin was damp. Her pulse raced. “Shit!” Axel tensed as the looming surface of the Arctic came towards them. The plane was spinning out of control. A crash followed as it impacted on the surface, a vibrating, smoking blur. Blaze screamed as she rolled toward the window and jerked back as the nose of the craft smashed into a huge boulder of ice. The freezing rock struck the windscreen, tearing the bulkheads, before coming to a whining halt. Blaze inhaled a lungful of smoke and coughed, then winced at the sudden spasm in her ribs. The sharpness of it helped clear her head; she stirred, and realised she had been thrown across the cockpit and hit the wall of ice that had come through the window. Axel sat at the pilot’s console beside her. “Blaze? Are you all right?” he asked, unharmed.

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She nodded, even though her legs trembled beneath her, and grimaced at another stab of pain in her rib and the complaints issuing from torn muscles in her shoulders. Blessedly, the plane was silent and still, the ground beneath her feet solid. Axel checked over the instruments that still functioned. The engine temperature was critical. He pushed buttons, but leapt back as the bulkhead exploded in a shower of sparks. Above them, the ‘Abandon Ship’ sign flashed. “We’ve got to get out of here,” Axel said. Blaze watched as he walked to the cockpit door and pulled it open. The inside of the cabin was dark and ominous. “Come on,” Axel told her. She followed him, stepping through the doorway onto the main deck, into water that splashed over her knees. Her legs suddenly felt like they had been stabbed with a thousand needles. Then she froze in horror, her worst fears unfolding like the petals of a poisonous flower. Blaze found herself exchanging blank looks with lots of dead and injured people, a sea of ghostly white faces. One man sat staring at her with a sightless expression. She gasped, fell back, and screamed. The dead faces, all around her, drew in on her, pressed at her mind. All dead, all dead, all dead! Blaze felt an immense rush of energy from her heart that surged around her entire body. She screamed harder than Axel had ever heard her scream before. And then she fainted. *** Blaze sat alone in a two-man tent, away from the other survivors, trying to stay as warm as possible. Axel had gone off for a meeting with the others, to find out what had happened and what they were going to do. The sight of all those dead faces…it had disturbed her so much. She shook her head, trying to will the bad thoughts away. But they plagued at her mind like demons taunting at her soul. It made her think of her parents, all the death, all the suffering, all the chaos. Not good, and it had left a strange aftersensation that she couldn’t quite shake off. She felt very strange; different, somehow. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It was as if she could feel her own aura flowing within her. She shook her head, sighing, and put her head in her hands. What was she thinking? They’d been here, in the middle of the godforsaken Arctic, for seventeen hours now, and she hadn’t slept a wink. She figured it must be getting to her. Many of the flight passengers had been killed in the crash landing, and those that did survive had erected a series of emergency shelters that would keep them warm enough until help arrived. Sitting here…waiting. It seemed like an eternity. Blaze had spent hours trying to figure out what had happened to the cabin crew – and why they had ended up at the North Pole – but so far she was at a loss. Maybe Axel would provide some answers once he returned from his meeting with the others. She took a sip of her coffee, and closed her eyes as the hot liquid trickled through her system. That was good. She opened her eyes and looked up. Axel was standing over her, with a grim smile on his face. He looked tired. He sat down quietly

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beside her, holding a satellite phone in his right hand. Other survivors shuffled past behind him. “Rescue team should be here in three hours,” Axel said. He put his arm around Blaze. “How ya doin’?” She warmed to him and looked down. “Okay. I feel…different.” Axel frowned. “What do you mean?” “I don’t know, I can still feel the… aura of my body. I can’t shake it off.” Axel looked concerned. “Relax. It’s been a long night. Rescue guys will be here any minute. Then we’ll be heading back to LA, away from here.” “Does that mean we aren’t going to the Summit?” Blaze asked. The International Law Enforcement Summit was being held in Paris, and was where they were headed before they found themselves over the Arctic, the flight crew dead. Axel shook his head. “It’s a little late for that now. I’ve been speaking to Adam on the satellite phone. Seems our flight being hijacked was only part of a larger criminal plot. You remember who the guest speaker was going to be at the summit?” Blaze nodded. “General Ivan Petrov, the highest ranking member of the US Army.” “Right,” Axel said. “Five minutes before he was due to give his speech, he was kidnapped by an armed gang.” “Kidnapped?” Blaze laughed, surprised. Axel nodded. “I know. This hijacking was likely part of a highly planned and professional operation. We’ll find out more when we reunite with Adam.” Blaze smiled. “It’s lucky you and Adam carry those satellite phones around with you. Without that, we’d probably have died out here.” Axel nodded. “We’re also lucky that Adam decided to stay in the city, rather than accompany us to the summit.” He placed the satellite phone receiver on the ground in front of them and stared at it, grateful that he had brought it with him on this trip. Blaze shook her head and sighed a half-laugh. “This is crazy. I still can’t believe we’re in the goddamn Arctic!” “One thing’s for sure…” Axel said cautiously, “somebody went to great lengths to make sure we didn’t make it to Paris. Somebody wanted us dead – wanted us totally out of the picture. But who?” Blaze looked at him, blinked, and swallowed dryly. “I have a feeling this is only the beginning of our troubles.”

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2 The Bigger Picture

The bomb exploded in the centre of Wood Oak city, its energy release, in the forms of radiation, light, heat, sound and blast, the equivalent of one million tons of TNT. Within two-thousandths of a second after the initial blinding flash of light, the explosion had become a small searing ball of vapour with a temperature of eighteen million degrees Fahrenheit, a new-born mini-sun of no material substance. The luminous fireball immediately began to expand, the air around it heated by compression and quickly losing its power as a shield against the ultraviolet radiation. The rapidly growing fiery nucleus pushed at the torrid air, producing a spherical acoustic shock-front which began to travel faster than it’s creator, masking the fireball’s full fury. As the heat wave spread out from the rising fireball, everything flammable and any lightweight material burst into flame. The scorching heat tore through the streets, melting solids, incinerating people or charring them to black crisps, killing every exposed living thing within a radius of three miles. Within seconds, the blast wave, travelling at the speed of sound and accompanied by winds of up to two hundred miles an hour, followed. Buildings crumbled, the debris released as deadly missiles. Glass flowed with the winds in millions of slicing shards. Vehicles - cars, buses, anything not secured to the ground - were tossed into the air like windblown leaves, falling to crush and maim. People were lifted from their feet and thrown into the sides of collapsing buildings. Intense blast pressure ruptured lungs, eardrums and internal organs. Lamp standards became javelins of concrete or metal. Broken electricity cables became dancing snakes of death. Water mains burst and became fountains of bubbling steam. Gas mains became part of the overall explosion. Everything became part of the unleashed fury. Further out, houses and buildings filled with high-pressure air and, as the blast passed on to be followed by a low-pressure wave, the structures exploded outwards. Anyone caught in the open had their clothes burnt off and received third-degree burns from which they could never recover. Others were buried beneath buildings, some to die instantly, many to lie beneath the rubble, slowly suffocating or suffering long lingering deaths from their injuries. As the shock-front spread, it started to spin inwards, rising at an incredible speed, forming a ring of smoke which carried debris and fission-produced radioactive isotopes. Dust was sucked from the earth as the swirling vortex reached upwards, dust that became contaminated by the deadly rays, rising high into the skies, later to settle on the destroyed city as lethal fallout.

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*** “Home sweet home!” Blaze cried as she leapt from the police helicopter. Axel was close behind her. The helicopter hovered over the LAPD parking lot for a moment, chopping the air with fierce intensity. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon in Los Angeles, and a welcome change from the subzero conditions of the Arctic. Both of them had slept for most of the journey back, and they were now very relieved to be in familiar surroundings again. Adam Hunter waved to Blaze and Axel as he approached from the direction of the police station, then looked at the pilot, giving him a thumbs-up. Once the pilot was satisfied his passengers were safely on the ground, the helicopter rose up into the air and moved away. “Axel, Blaze, welcome back!” Adam said. He had a big grin on his Romannosed face. “It’s good to see you! When I first heard about the plane, I feared the worst!” “It’s good to see you, buddy,” Axel smiled, grabbing the larger man and giving him a solid pat on the back. “Kudos for keeping your satellite phone with you.” “Hey, I’ll always have it with me.” He patted the phone, which was holstered on his hip. “But I think you deserve more credit than me, Axel. If it wasn’t for your last minute actions on board that plane…you would all be dead.” Blaze kissed Axel, then Adam on the cheek. “You’re both heroes.” Then she laughed, happy she’d survived the 36-hour ordeal. Adam smiled, then suddenly the smile dropped. A look of uneasiness came over his face. He cleared his throat and said, “A lot’s been happening while you were away. Something really big is going down. Come on, let’s get inside. The Chief’s expecting us for a meeting.” Axel and Blaze exchanged a concerned glance, and followed him into the station.

In the briefing room, Adam took centre stage, and began to explain recent events. Axel and Blaze appreciated the opportunity to be brought up to speed. They sat in plastic chairs while Police Chief O’Hara stood by the doorway, smoking a cigarette, his eyes cautiously lowered. “Okay, this is what we know,” Adam started. He took a deep breath. “Thursday afternoon, Captain Dale Lemke, who was the Boeing 720 pilot for the flight to Paris,” he gestured to Axel and Blaze, “was found dead at the airport, three hours after the flight took off. He had been murdered, and his flight uniform stolen. Which means the plane was hijacked.” He moved to a hologram projector and flipped a switch. The lights in the room dimmed, and the projector made a humming sound as it cast a map of the United States over the wall behind Adam. A series of lines were marked on the map, indicating the plane’s flight path. “At some point during the preset flight path to Paris the hijacker altered the flight’s course, taking it to the Arctic. He escaped via parachute and left the people on the plane to their doom.” He pressed another switch on the projector. The air lit up with a grainy security photo of a black, unmarked van. Several armed thugs were shouting and moving in the picture. “…while this was going on, General Petrov was

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kidnapped from the summit in Paris. The kidnappers claimed to be representing the interests of Lima, the middle-eastern country.” “You think somebody didn’t want that plane to reach the summit,” Chief O’Hara observed. “But who? And why?” “Blaze and myself were the highest ranking officers aboard that plane, sir,” Axel told him. “I’ve got a feeling we were the targets.” O’Hara looked at him and frowned. “Right,” Adam nodded. “But I’m not sure why.” He gave Axel a strange look that said, there’s something I’m not telling you, and I can’t talk about it here. Axel and Blaze exchanged nervous glances. “What else do we have, Captain Hunter?” Chief O’Hara asked. He took a long drag of his cigarette. Adam swallowed dryly and switched the projector to show a photograph of a mushroom cloud – the aftermath of a nuclear explosion. “This picture was taken by a civilian chopper, ten hours ago, eighteen hundred clicks north of here.” Axel shifted in his seat. “What?!?” Blaze said nothing. Adam continued: “Wood Oak City, in northern California. The victims are given as an estimated 30,000 dead and 80,000 injured.” “Jesus!” Blaze exclaimed. “Holy shit.” “The press is crawling all over it. At the moment Washington’s calling it a terrorist attack,” Adam said, a look of cold dread on his face. “They think the group responsible for kidnapping the General is behind the bombing.” “Something really big is going on here,” Axel said. “What do we know about this terrorist group?” “At the summit in Paris they claimed to be representing the interests of Lima. But they show the signs of being a multi-national, highly regimented organisation, with operatives in both Paris and here in Los Angeles, and probably other locations as well.” Adam said. He moved to the projector, opened the shutter, and switched it off. “Beyond that, nothing.” Chief O’Hara put out his cigarette with the toe of his boot and straightened his tie, moving toward the exit. “See what you can dig up. Keep me informed,” he said, “dismissed.”

Once the meeting was over, Adam walked hurriedly with Axel and Blaze through the courtyard. Keeping his voice low, he said, “There’s something you need to know that’s come to my attention… he’s in on it.” “Who? The Chief?” Blaze whispered back. They turned a corner and emerged into the parking lot. Making sure no-one was around and listening, Adam nodded. “He’s being paid off by the Syndicate.” “The Syndicate?!” Blaze hissed. “Yes,” Adam said. He smiled and kept quiet as a couple of off duty cops shuffled past. When they had gone, he said, “The Syndicate’s behind everything. We thought we’d destroyed them two years ago, but they merely went to ground. They’re still here, and they’re up to something. Now they’ve even got Chief O’Hara working for them.” “How?” Axel asked.

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“The Syndicate wanted you dead before they started their latest plan. So they tried to take you out. But they failed. O’Hara’s an insider, working for the Syndicate, giving them information. You see, he’s part of it. He has been for years. He sold you out. Now he’s shitting himself trying to cover his tracks, only this time we’ve wised up to what he’s doing.” “Corrupt fucker!” Blaze hissed. “Son of a bitch,” Axel said, nodding to himself. “So we can’t trust the Chief, or rely on the police force now.” “Right,” Adam replied. Still nodding, Axel took out his police badge. “It’s all making sense now… I can see now that the police force has been corrupt since the very beginning, since our days tracking down Blue Swan. I knew that O’Hara was behind the disappearance of Busta back then, I was just too scared to admit it.” He threw his badge to the ground without bothering to look. “I quit. We’re on our own. We can deal with this Syndicate and its corrupted public figures by ourselves.” He started walking. “Whoa, slow down you two!” Blaze said, pulling Axel back. “Adam, where are you getting this information? Three days ago everything was fine, now you’re talking about the Syndicate and a massive conspiracy.” “You’ll be surprised how deep this goes,” he replied. “What if I told you Mr. X was still alive?” Blaze looked confused. “While you were gone, I found an insider of my own.” Adam opened the door of his car, and turned to look at them both. “I think it’s time you met Dr. Zan.”

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3 Zan

The sun glared brightly overhead as Adam drove his police cruiser east along Garden Grove Freeway. The traffic was light, and they were making good time. Axel and Blaze were in the rear passenger seats, both having renounced their positions in the LAPD. Adam didn’t blame them; the fact that Chief O’Hara had so willingly and knowingly sent them to their deaths on that plane…it was outrageous. Axel and Blaze considered it personal. If Adam had been through the same experience, he would have probably quit too. But Adam was working for Covert Intelligence in another department, with access to some considerable resources which could help in their cause; he figured he’d be better off where he is, at least for the moment. “So you’re both ex-cops!” Adam called, looking at them through the mirror. “Damn straight!” Blaze said, peering over her sunglasses. They sat in silence for a moment. Blaze moved her eyes to the window, watching the cars go past. Man, this was some serious shit! They were caught up in some serious fucking shit and she wondered if they were going to survive. A hijacking…a kidnapped General…a nuclear bomb! What the fuck was the Syndicate up to? Just thinking about the Syndicate made Blaze grind her teeth. She hated Mr. X…thought he was dead, knew he was dead. Blaze started to feel sick. Damn, she thought, here it comes again. Inwardly, she suddenly felt an enormous rush of energy. It was a warming sensation that seemed to flow within her. For a moment she completely lost herself in the sensation, and found that she was controlling how it felt. Then she gasped, feeling strong pain all over her body. “Blaze, are you all right?” Axel asked. He reached his arm over. “What’s wrong?” She sat up straight and pushed his hand away. Axel looked surprised. “Nothing,” she said unconvincingly. “I’m fine.” She blushed, and looked down, then shook her head. Maybe she needed to see a medic. Her mind filled with questions and she grew impatient. Raising her head, she asked, “Adam, how much farther is it?” “I’m just about to leave the highway. It’s twenty blocks from the exit,” Adam said. “Just hold on, we’re almost there.” He turned the cruiser off the highway and they were in city streets. Adam headed south towards an old industrial complex, then pressed a switch that raised the cruiser windows until they were closed. The interior of the car seemed ominously quiet. He said, “My contact may take some, uh, getting used to at first.” Axel raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” Adam grinned and chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “You just wait.” He turned a corner, passing abandoned buildings on both sides of the road, and said, “Three hours after you took off for Paris, I received a phone call on my personal line. It was Doctor Gilbert Zan, former researcher for the RoboCy Corporation…you know it?” He looked at Axel.

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Axel nodded. “RoboCy, sure.” “I’ve seen the commercial,” Blaze added. “Right.” Adam continued, “well, turns out RoboCy is nothing more than a front for the Syndicate’s more…sinister activities. We’ve seen what they’ve done in the past.” “You mean the robots we saw on Mr. X’s island?” Blaze said. “You got it. The researchers at RoboCy were told that the robotics work they pioneered and continued to work on would be put to use for the good of mankind. When Dr. Zan discovered what the research was really being used for, and what the Syndicate was doing…..well, he contacted me.” Blaze nodded. “Good. Then he can give us some answers.” Axel leaned forward. “Can we trust him?” “I hope so. Look, we’re here.” The cruiser pulled into the driveway of a large, abandoned factory. Adam brought the vehicle to a calm stop and switched off the engine. “Nobody around,” Blaze observed. The factory looked like it had gone unused for some time. They got out of the car. Adam smiled. “That’s the idea.” He climbed up onto the concrete walkway and told them to follow. He knelt down and used both his hands to pull open a shutter, revealing an old wooden door. Heading inside, they passed through a corridor into the main factory floor. Rusted machinery and conveyor belts were aligned in a dozen rows, surrounded by storage crates. The only sound came from their footsteps. The walls were dark and cheap. It was the perfect place for someone to hide. They rounded a corridor and went down a staircase that led down to a basement level. There was a locked pressure door. Adam went to the keypad and punched in a code. The lock chimed and the door opened. The room inside was large, almost too dark to see. Inside, the figure of a man stood, cloaked in shadow. Adam took a deep breath. “Axel, Blaze. I’d like you to meet Dr. Zan.”

“Greetings!” came a booming voice that sounded like it was being projected through a microphone. Axel and Blaze froze. Dr. Zan emerged from the shadow. He was huge. Standing eight feet tall, his broad, armoured body looked like it was entirely made out of synthetic alloys. Robotic parts protruded from all over it. His head was the only part that looked human. In his forties, bald. A grey moustache nestled under a broad nose. He had a look of experience about him. “Axel Stone, I presume?” Zan reached out his arm and shook Axel’s hand. As he did so, Axel looked at his hand. It was huge, robotic. Axel had never seen anything like it, even on Mr. X’s island. “A cyborg?” he asked. “I still retain the mind of a man,” Zan answered. His voice sounded metallic and echoed, yet he wore no mask. “I am Doctor Gilbert Zan. Five years ago I was a human scientist hired by RoboCy Corporation to assist in its’ ‘research’. I worked under Dr. Henry Dahm, the famous cyberneticist.” His eyes went from Axel to Blaze and his head tilted to the side, making a whirring sound as he examined her.

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Blaze tensed. Jesus. “You must be Blaze Fielding,” Zan said, and smiled. “It’s an honour to finally meet you in person.” Blaze forced a smile back. “Thanks…I think.” She looked at his metallic body and screwed her face up. “What happened to you?” “To start with we were developing biological computers, neural nets, thinking machines, things no-one else had ever done,” Zan told her. “Then, about three years ago, Dr. Dahm and I made a breakthrough in android replication technology. This allowed us to develop the X Robot Prototype.” “The X Robot? You mean those things on Mr. X’s island!” Blaze exclaimed. Zan nodded. “Indeed. Though at the time, I had no idea of their intended use. We were just doing the basic science.” “So what happened next?” asked Axel. Zan moved across the room as he recalled his memories. He seemed to glide across the floor with an electronic whirring sound, then turned back and said, “Two years ago, Dr. Dahm approached me and started telling me how the X Robot line had failed to perform adequately in the field. He proposed starting work on the next generation of X Robot. This next generation robot was codenamed Project Y.” “Project Y?” “Project Y was the ultimate culmination of all our work at RoboCy. Both machine and living, undying. A cybernetic organism with amazing potential. Dr. Dahm showed me his formulae, his predictions. He said we would be making the next step in the evolution of mankind…a perfect being, and…” Zan trailed off, and looked down at his open palm. “Dahm wanted a human subject to test Phase 1 of Project Y. He wanted to see if it were possible…if it were possible to merge with the synthetic…” he clenched his metal fist. “I was his guinea pig!” Blaze winced. “They turned you into a cyborg against your will?” Zan nodded. “They gave me no choice. I tried to say no…it was…a horrible… eighteen months of my life. They removed my head from my body, grafted it to the Phase 1 skeleton…I became an abomination.” His head was lowered. Clearly this man regretted what had happened. He could still feel pain. “Why are you telling us this?” asked Axel. Zan looked at him. “They underestimated me. Using my new and enhanced abilities I managed to get past Dahm’s guards into his office. Interfacing with his computer, I discovered the truth – that Mr. X’s criminal Syndicate had been pulling the strings all along. The X Robot prototype had been used to create an army of crazed super soldiers hell-bent on destruction, so that Mr. X could take over the city!” “We know that! We destroyed his base, and all his precious robots,” Blaze said. “But that wasn’t the end! Mr. X’s remains were recovered from the wreckage of the base. Your own police chief was paid to remain quiet about it. Dr. Dahm kept Mr. X alive, how I do not know. Now Mr. X seems to have gone completely insane. He wants to take over the world.” “Fucking hell,” Blaze muttered. She glanced at Adam, who nodded and said, “So now you know.” “His Syndicate has been smuggling Laxine,” Zan said, beginning to elaborate. Laxine was a controversial atomic particle; discovered in 1979 at the Killey Research Institute, number 122 on the periodic table, and highly radioactive. Zan raised his right hand as he spoke. “With it they’re building nuclear bombs. The city of Wood

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Oak was the first victim of these bombs. He is trying to start a nuclear war between the United States and the country of Lima.” “What? Why?” Blaze demanded. “With the world’s attention drawn to the nuclear crisis, Mr. X will replace key world government officials with android replicas; he will then rule the world by remote control.” Axel and Blaze stood for a moment in nervous silence. “Christ. How does the general come into all of this?” Axel asked. “Mr. X wants to fool the Pentagon into thinking that Lima terrorists are behind the bombing campaign. So far he’s been successful. Soon, the general will be replicated and killed. The android replica will return in his place, and will give a speech at the White House. He’ll be able to say anything Mr. X wants.” Axel shook his head. “Not good. I can see where Mr. X is going with this. Motherfucker!” “As soon as I found out about this plot, I abandoned the research base. I needed to contact someone who could help. Since you and Blaze were out of the country, I contacted Adam,” Zan continued. “Mr. X must be stopped,” he declared. “Millions of lives are at stake.” Adam spread his arms wide. “We have to find the real general before it’s too late.” Axel nodded. “I’m with you on that one. I’ll make a few phone calls. I have an old friend who can help us. Adam, maybe you could contact your brother?” Adam nodded. “Sure.” Blaze grinned. “Sounds good.” Then she cocked her head and frowned, listening. From outside the room, there was the sound of boots marching. Many. Blaze turned, startled, and gasped in shock. Dozens of large thugs, wearing balaclavas and black leather jackets, were filing into the room. They brandished knives, chains, and guns. “What the fuck?” Axel crouched, and came up in a martial arts stance, ready for anything. Adam went for his holster, but cursed silently to himself when he realised he’d left his gun in the glove compartment of his cruiser. The thugs didn’t attack. Instead they formed a circle around Axel, Blaze, Adam and Zan, and stood there in a threatening silence. “What is this?” Adam demanded. Leon Shiva stepped into the room. Shiva was dressed in dark fighting robes and wore a thin red bandanna around his head. His dark hair swayed behind him as he entered the room and approached. “Dr. Zan, this party’s over,” he said.

“Shiva!” Axel shouted. “Fuck you!” Shiva replied. “You should be dead!” He grimaced and spat at the ground. Then he shook his head vigorously. “I should have known. Next time I’ll just plant a bomb on the plane – easier!” “So it was you…” Blaze started. “And you!” Shiva interrupted. He pointed his finger at Blaze. “Fuck you, bitch!”

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Blaze stared at Shiva and braced herself. This fucker was Mr. X’s right hand man – a man who should be dead, along with Mr. X. Seems he survived that explosion too. And had already tried to kill her once. Blaze was growing intensely angry, and once again she began to sense that strange feeling of an inner aura… The more she concentrated on her anger, the more she could feel it flowing and boiling within her. Shiva dashed forward and slammed his fist into Blaze’s stomach. She doubled over and wheezed, and he brought his elbow down hard on the back of her head. She yelped and collapsed to the floor. “No!” Axel leapt into the air and launched his foot at Shiva’s head. It connected and Shiva was knocked backward, momentarily stunned. Axel wasted no time, laying into Shiva with his fists. Then Shiva ducked, twisted his body and yelled “Final crash!” His leg shot upwards at immense speed, catching Axel straight in the jaw, knocking him back. “Kill them, you idiots!” Shiva roared, clutching his face. The thugs started murmuring amongst themselves, and began to move in. Adam leapt into action and started beating back the thugs. Axel joined him. “Shiva! Stop this!” Zan shouted. He picked up one of the thugs and tossed him across the room like a rag doll. The man screamed, then went silent. Something cracked and squelched as the man hit the opposite wall hard, then slumped to the ground. A large bloodstain marked the wall behind him. Some of the wall’s brickwork had chipped off from the impact. “I’ll kill you all!” Shiva hissed, and moved in on Blaze. Blaze stirred and struggled to her feet, fuming with rage. She was sweating, nostrils flared, face flushed. Inside she could feel her aura so strongly now. Stronger than ever before. She screamed, “Fireeeee…!”. Her rage was fuelling her, then a bright and intense blue energy was radiating from Blaze’s hands. She threw her hands forward, focusing on Shiva. “…ball!” A ball of blue energy shot from her hands and caught Shiva on his chest, blasting him backward. He flipped head-over-heels and crashed to the floor. He didn’t get back up. Blaze stared in shock for a moment at what she had just done, then her eyes rolled back in their sockets and she lost consciousness. “Blaze!” Axel cried, flipping one of the thugs over and slamming him into the concrete. “Shit.” “There’s too many of them!” Adam shouted. He and Axel were fighting hard. These thugs were tough, not your average street punks. Adam caught a punch in the ribs and fell back, then launched into an uppercut and cracked the goon responsible on the jaw, sending him flying. “Get behind me,” Zan told them. Axel and Adam obeyed. Zan rose up, facing the thugs. He spread his metallic arms wide, and the room was lit up as electrical charge began to build up in his body. They watched as huge sparks of yellow energy forked their way across the room and leapt through the bodies of the thugs, electrocuting them. By the time Zan powered down, all that was left of them was charred, smoking remains. Adam rushed to the doorway. “Damn! Shiva got away!”

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Zan knelt down and scooped up Blaze with one arm. He held her weight with very little effort. He stood, lifted her onto his right shoulder, and beckoned to the others. “We must leave. Right now.”

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4 The Fire Within

Blaze slept. In her dreams, she could feel the flow of the Fire within her. It made her feel strong, more aggressive, more powerful. She concentrated on the sensation, wanting nothing more than to be consumed by its power. Blaze screamed. Her features contorted into a grisly mask. Her cheek bones projected. Her skin shrivelled and wrinkled. She looked frail and ancient. Her eyes seemed to sink into her cheeks, and lay there like old stones in dry sockets. “What. . . is . . . happening?” she choked. Her voice was growing fainter by the second, her body ageing rapidly now. Her hair was growing long and grey and crisp. Her face was sinking; her skin peeling away. “No. No. No. No. No. No.” she whispered. She shook her head and bits of skin flew away. Her fingernails curled back on themselves. Milky cataracts coated her eyes. What remained of her skin was brown and leathery and stretched across her face until it split, and hung in flaps. Then she crumbled to the ground, an ancient skeleton blackened with age. *** “Noooooo!” Blaze screamed and woke up suddenly. Her heart was racing. Sweat drenched her hair and face. Oh, man! She sat up. She was in the hotel room, alone on the bed, everything in place as it should be. She wiped the sweat from her eyes, and peered under the bed covers at her naked body. Everything looked normal. She sighed in relief. It was a dream! She pulled the covers back, got out of bed, and padded over to the wash basin to splash water over her face, neck and breasts. It was cool, wet and refreshing. She dried herself with a hand towel and looked at herself in the mirror. “What the fuck is happening to me?” she said out loud. It had all started just after the plane crash, when she walked out of the cockpit with Axel. The sight of all those ghostly white faces… She shook her head, trying to close out the memory. But it lingered, and Blaze remembered how she had thought of that day when her family was killed. The looks on their faces as they had died; fear, horror, tears. That had stirred something within her. Something she could only describe as her ‘aura’, a flowing conduit of power all over her body. She later found that every time she became angry she had developed the ability to create a fire-like energy from deep within her and use it as a weapon. She’d used it against Shiva and was able to knock him back and stun him. But she had fainted through the immense energy loss. What the fuck was going on? Was something wrong with her at the genetic level?

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Blaze went to a cupboard beside her bed and opened the top drawer. Inside she saw the things she had packed for the hotel. She pulled out a clean pair of panties and slipped them on, then took out a small rectangular container no bigger than her hand. She stared at the metallic container for a moment, then took it to the window at the other side of the room. She pulled on the latch and opened the window, then prised opened the container. Inside were three marijuana cigarettes and a small box of matches. What the hell, Blaze thought. She took out a joint and placed it to her mouth, lighting it with a match. She pulled on the joint and inhaled deeply, spewing the thick white smoke out the window. It was strong shit, and went straight to her head. She liked to roll them that way. A tingling sensation came over her consciousness; she felt elevated, up in the clouds. After another two or three puffs of smoke, she was high. She’d been occasionally smoking marijuana for over a year now. Ever since she’d stopped taking Fire tablets, she’d craved something to give a little boost to her system every now and then. Marijuana usually gave her that buzz, and it wasn’t addictive, so it was okay by her. Axel had even smoked with her two or three times. She finished the joint and stubbed it out. The nightmare and the bad thoughts were washed away. Feeling better, she saw her cell phone laying on the floor at the end of the bed, face down. She picked it up in her right hand and dialled Axel’s number. Axel answered, “Hi darling. How are you feeling?” “I’m feeling much better, Axel,” she said. “You know, I missed you last night…” She used her left hand to massage her breasts seductively. “I missed you too, hon. But you know how important it is we have all the help we can get on this one.” She smiled. “Yeah. So how’s Max? Did you meet him?” “Yep, he’s fine. He’s with me right now. I’ve explained what’s going on and he’s agreed to help. He has an old score to settle with Mr. X.” “Don’t we all?” Blaze said. “I spoke to Adam earlier this morning. He’s bringing Skate along too.” “That’s good.” Blaze heard muffled voices on the other end of the phone. Axel said, “I have to go now, Blaze. I’ll see you at fifteen hundred hours. I love you.” “I love you, too.” She hung up the phone, and went to get dressed. It was time to find Dr. Zan.

Zan was sitting in the hotel’s lobby area, reading a newspaper. He was dressed in a large trench coat and a fedora hat. To the casual observer, he looked like any one of the hundreds of tourists who passed through the hotel every day. Since the hotel was situated so close to Anaheim’s Disneyland resort, it was a good place where the team could mingle with the crowd to avoid being spotted. Blaze came down the stairwell, dressed in plain clothes. She went to sit with Zan. “Good morning, Dr. Zan,” she said. He peered from over the newspaper. “Ah, Miss Fielding. Good morning. I trust you slept well?” Blaze hesitated, then shuddered. “Not really. I had a nightmare.”

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Zan folded the newspaper up and placed it to one side, giving her his full attention. “A nightmare, you say?” “Yes. I don’t know what’s happening to me, or where I got this power from, but I’m changing. In the nightmare I was consumed by the power and it killed me. I’m afraid it’s going to kill me in real life.” “You are referring to this ‘aura’ Axel told me about?” Zan asked. Blaze nodded. “You’re a scientist. Do you have any idea what could be happening?” Zan looked at her thoughtfully. “I have a theory, but you may not like it.” Blaze frowned. “Try me.” Zan looked away. “I’ve read your Syndicate profile.” He looked back into her eyes and said, “I know you were being kept at the psychiatric hospital against your will, while Mr. X and his followers performed experiments on you. Perhaps this is the result of one of the experiments they performed? What drugs did they have you on?” “Erm…” Blaze struggled to speak. This man knew more about her than she realised. “Double maintenance dose of Triazolam, Chlorpromazine, Hariperidol.” Zan nodded. “Triazolam? Fire? Interesting. It’s certainly possible that they were carrying out genetic experimentation, trying to create a human super-weapon, and we’re starting to see it come to fruition. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s never to underestimate the Syndicate.” Blaze’s eyes filled with tears. Zan’s theory made sense. A genetic experiment to create a superhuman weapon. Jesus, Blaze thought. That explained why Mr. X wanted her dead so badly after she’d escaped. He was going to wipe her brain and have her under his control, but she’d escaped and was acting independently. “Fuckers,” she whispered. “I know exactly how you feel,” Zan said, sensing her sadness. “You feel used, betrayed. You feel like the Syndicate has stolen your life from you, and you want to take it back!” Blaze looked at him, a tear rolling down one cheek. She wiped her eyes. “That is how I feel.” Zan smiled at her. “Then that makes two of us. My life was taken away too – but I tried to see my new powers as a gift, rather than a burden. Perhaps you should look at your own powers in the same way. “ She managed to smile back through her tears. “Perhaps you’re right. Good to have you on board, Dr. Zan.”

Blaze and Zan were sitting in the lobby discussing RoboCy’s research projects when Axel and Adam came in through the main doors, with Max Hatchett and Eddie “Skate” Hunter in tow. As they approached, Blaze and Zan both stood up. “Max,” Blaze said, and gave the large, muscular man a hug. “How’s it going, Blaze?” Max asked. He was pleased to see her. “Even better now you guys are here,” Blaze smiled. “Hi Skate.” “Hi Blaze,” Skate said. He glanced at her cleavage as he spoke. “You look good.” “Thanks,” Blaze said, and winked at him. Skate blushed. “Guys, I want you to meet Dr. Zan,” Adam said.

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Max and Skate exchanged greetings with Zan, then Zan began to address the whole group. “Okay, now that everyone’s here, we can get started. We need to find out where the Syndicate is holding the kidnapped general, and rescue him before the android replica makes its speech at the White House. I’d say we have 48 hours at the most.” Axel nodded. “Any ideas where we should start looking?” For a moment they stood in silence. Max came forward. “I think I know where to head first,” he said. “There’s a strip club not too far from here called “The ‘69 Bar”. The club is owned by a girl named Electra, someone I knew back in my wrestling days. She was a fighter, a good fighter, and her heart was in the right place. I haven’t seen her in years though. My contacts tell me she’s since gained a high-ranking position in the Syndicate’s Inner Sanctum.” “You think she’ll know where the general’s being held?” “I would suspect so. This information came from Neo-Pharm employees who I still have contact with, and I trust them.” “Sounds good enough to me,” Axel said. “Let’s hit those streets!” *** Shiva pressed his hand to the electronic palm reader. He watched the scanner perform its sweep of his palm print, then took his hand away. “Access Granted,” came the computer’s dull, monotonous voice. There was a beep and the door slid open. He went through the door, and passed into the Command Facility. As big as a factory, the Command Facility was easily the largest room in the base, and by far the most important. It was filled with advanced machinery. Dozens of state-of-the-art quantum computers lined the walls, with technicians hovering around them like flies. A large medical vat was stationed in the middle of the room, guarded by sentry robots. Shiva marched toward it. The medical vat stood twelve feet high. It was made of unbreakable glass, supported by a titanium base with three large pipes that connected it to a hydrogen fuel cell beneath the floor. Behind the glass were the remains of Mr. X - a human brain, connected to a spinal cord. It was immersed in synthetic chemicals that were constantly being filtered and revitalised. These chemicals were keeping the brain alive. A series of micro wires were connected to the top of the brain, linking it to a computer control system. The medical assistant saw Shiva approach. She peered at him over her glasses as the sentry robots allowed him to pass, then scooped up her clipboard and moved away. Shiva watched her go, then turned his attention to Mr. X, or at least, what was left of him. “Sir,” he said, peering into the glass. A dark, resonating voice came from a hidden speaker being controlled by the brain. “What is it Shiva?” Shiva swallowed. “Sir, I’m afraid I have some bad news. Blaze Fielding and Axel Stone are still alive.” “What?! You said you’d taken care of them days ago!” Mr. X boomed. “Yes, I thought I had,” Shiva replied quickly. He licked his lips. “Everything went off without a hitch. I guess I underestimated them, because I saw them both

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alive and well not 12 hours ago. I was forced to retreat, but don’t worry sir, I’ll be ready for them next time.” There was a tense moment of silence as X seemed to contemplate something. This is not what he wants to hear, Shiva thought, and braced himself. Mr. X asked, “What happened?” “I was searching for the deserter, Dr. Zan,” Shiva replied. “My search led me to an old factory in the Garden Grove area. I found Zan with Axel Stone, Blaze Fielding, and Adam Hunter. I think he’s told them everything, and they’re plotting against us. There was a fight. My men were overpowered.” “This is not good,” X said. “I expect you to take care of this mess, Shiva. I will not tolerate failure a second time. Do you understand me? I expect your absolute best!” X was shouting now. “Yes, sir.” Shiva forced a salute. “I won’t fail again.” Then he lowered his voice and said, “there is… something else you should know.” “Yes?” “I think Blaze Fielding has matured. She’s started developing the genetic abilities that were programmed into her DNA structure. She…attacked me with an energy ball.” “Interesting,” X muttered. “Very interesting. So if that punk Axel Stone hadn’t intervened, she would now be under my complete control, and ready to do my bidding! She would have made a great asset. Pity. Kill her, and don’t fuck up this time.” Shiva saluted, then started to walk off. “Wait!” Mr. X called. Shiva turned to look at the brain. “Take Blaze alive. She might yet be of some use to us. Kill the rest.”

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5 The 69 Bar

It was almost noon by the time they reached the 69 Bar, with the sun high in the sky, yet the area was already bustling with business. Located in one of LA’s more seedy districts, the club was nestled at the bottom of a hill, and surrounded by many other entertainment venues. Various street punks and drug dealers were loitering on the street outside. A large neon sign was suspended over the main entrance, that depicted a cartoon man and woman engaged in a sexual act, their bodies intertwining, forming the numbers ‘69’. According to the plaque behind the glass, the bar was open. “Here we are,” muttered Max Hatchett as the group reached the entrance. “I’m surprised it’s open already. Guess the Syndicate has business dealings here throughout the day.” “I wouldn’t put anything past the Syndicate,” Blaze told him. She looked at the neon sign suspended above them and grimaced. “I think I’ll wait outside.” Axel nodded. “Maybe that’s for the best. You’d probably be recognised. Skate, Zan, maybe you guys should wait here too.” “Affirmative,” said Zan. “Why do I have to wait outside?” Skate asked, disappointed. Adam grinned at him. “Sorry, lil’ bro. This club is for those over 21 years old. You’ll have to wait. Besides, I’d feel more comfortable having you back us up.” Skate reluctantly agreed and waited with Blaze and Zan, while Adam, Axel and Max went into the bar. As the door opened, the smell of alcohol and crack cocaine assailed their nostrils. They heard drum and bass music. “If we’re not back in fifteen minutes,” Axel told them, “come and find us.”

It was dark inside the club, the only real light coming from disco laser lights that strobed and flashed with the beat of the music. The music was drum and bass, and it was very loud. The air was filled with the pungent odour of intoxicants. Patrons gathered around podiums, where exotic-looking pole dancers were performing, some topless, others completely naked. “Right,” Axel said to the others. “Let’s get to the bar, see if we can find this Electra.” They passed the dancing girls and went down a slope to the bar. A dozen or so patrons were gathered there, hunched over their drinks. Behind the bar was a tall man with dark hair, cleaning a wine glass with a dishcloth. He watched them approach. “They’re really something aren’t they?” he asked. His voice was deep and gruff. He was talking to Axel. “Excuse me?” Axel asked. “The dancers – they’re really something.”

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Axel grinned, pulled up a bar stool and planted himself on it, turning his head to ogle one of the dancers. She had short dark hair, and a Latin quality to her face. She was cupping her breasts with her hands and gyrating her bare hips to the music. He could see everything. Axel nodded. “They certainly are.” He ordered a large Whiskey and the barman poured it quickly. Axel downed the drink, then stared at the empty glass and said, “I’m looking for a girl named Electra. I was told I could find her here.” The barman glanced at Axel suspiciously. “What do you want with Electra?” Axel met his gaze. “I’m here on business. Do you know where she is?” The barman hesitated, unsure of what to do, then he pointed in the direction of the pole dancers. “You’ll find Electra dancing on podium four. She finishes in five minutes.” “Thanks for your help.”

They went to the dance floor to find podium four. When they got there, Axel was taken aback. Electra was naked. She had long blonde hair, and a body to die for. She was very beautiful; an hourglass figure with breasts that were large and wellrounded. She was pole dancing very seductively, one finger in her mouth as she swung her buttocks behind her, legs apart. The crowd was cheering. When her time was up and the crowd had moved off to watch other girls, she stepped down from the podium and slipped on a purple robe, then bent down and picked up the money she’d garnered. As she did so, she noticed Axel, Adam and Max watching her. “Like what you see?” she asked tartly. She stuffed the money into pockets on her robe. “Very nice,” said Adam, clearly aroused. Axel kicked him. “Electra, I presume?” Axel asked. She looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Who wants to know?” “My name is David Ghether,” Axel told her. “I’m here on business. Mr. X told me I could find you here. Perhaps we could…uh…speak somewhere a little more privately?” Electra looked him up and down, then nodded. “Very well, we can speak in my office. But your companions will have to remain here.” She looked at Adam and Max. “I’m sure they’ll find something to keep them occupied.” “Okay, guys,” Axel told them. “Wait here.” Axel followed Electra through a side door marked, “Staff Only”. Immediately the music of the club became a softened mumble. Axel’s ears were ringing. They went up two flights of stairs and came to a small office. Electra opened the door and marched in. “Please, sit down.” Electra said. “Would you care for a drink?” She moved to a drinks cabinet and pulled out a bottle of vodka. Axel pulled up a cushioned chair and sat down, clearing his throat. “Thankyou. That would be great.” He watched as Electra poured the drink into two glasses and handed him one. He took it. “You know, you’re a fantastic dancer…” Electra gulped back her drink with ease. “Thanks, it comes with the job.” She placed the glass aside and said, “So tell me, what business does Mr. X have you here on, Mr. Ghether? I am a very busy woman.”

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“Yes, I can see that.” Axel sipped his vodka, grimaced, and set it down on the table. Then he told her, “I have a very important shipment for Mr. X. Some concentrated Triazolam for use in the droid General. I need to get it there within 24 hours. He told me to come to you.” Electra looked at him suspiciously, then seemed to relax a little. “Another courier, huh?” She went to her desk and opened the top drawer, glancing back at him as she did so. She pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to him. “Very well. Here’s ah… the location of the drop-off point.” “Thanks,” he said, and went to leave. Electra watched him go. She wasn’t smiling.

Adam and Max were at the bar when Axel returned. “I’ve got it,” Axel told them. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” Suddenly, there was a loud smash of glass as Blaze Fielding flew in through the window. She landed on the floor, covered in glass, unconscious. “Blaze!” Adam cried. He ran over to help, but fell back in agony as a wire leapt out of nowhere and cracked over his back, sending a powerful electric current through his body. “What the…?” Max turned, and saw Electra standing there, dressed in blue leathers, brandishing an electric-shock whip. She reared back and flicked the whip towards Axel. He caught it in the gut, the surging electrical current blasting him back, knocking over a group of punks. Electra shook her head. “Fools!” Before she had time to crack the electro-whip again, Max charged at her. He brought down his huge arms and smashed her over the head. She went pale, and collapsed to the floor. A bar fight erupted, the club turning into chaos.

Skate picked up a bottle of vodka and smashed it over a goon’s face. The goon fell back, then another attacker came from behind. Skate crouched, then leapt towards him, legs outstretched, using his roller blades as a clobbering weapon. They landed squarely on the punk’s chest and sent him crashing down. Skate got to his feet and grinned, dusting his hands off. He watched as one of the dancing girls ran past screaming. Her breasts and buttocks wobbled as she ran and disappeared into the chaos. This is cool, he thought. He didn’t really know what all this trouble was about, but he knew that the Syndicate was a bad thing that had to be stopped. Two years earlier, his older brother had been kidnapped by the Syndicate Skate had visited the house to find it a complete ruin. He didn’t know who else to call so he contacted Axel and Blaze, and they helped rescue Adam. Skate felt he owed them for that. When Adam told him the threat from the Syndicate hadn’t been eliminated and invited him to join them in this fate-of-the-world stuff, well, Skate couldn’t resist. He loved a good fight, and Suddenly, a white haired punk in a yellow jacket charged at him from the direction of the dance floor, waving a crowbar high over his head, screaming. As he did so, green strobe lights pulsed and spun from the archway behind him. The music was still playing.

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The punk reared back and flung the crowbar towards Skate. But Skate was too fast. He slipped sideways and boxed the punk in the ribs, then brought up his right leg, cracking the man’s temple with the ‘blade. The punk fell. “Skate! You okay?” It was Adam. He was fighting an obese punk who wore a red baseball cap and a T-Shirt emblazoned with the words “Big Ben”. The moment Adam looked away, the fatso slapped him hard across the face, stunning him. Adam stood there looking perplexed, and the fat fuck leapt into the air and belly-flopped Adam, knocking him to the floor. “Adam!” Skate leapt up and cried, “Corkscrew Kick!” With his body shaped like a missile, he arched down, twisting his roller blades into the fatso’s bloated gut. Big Ben took the full impact, his skin and muscle tissue tearing and splitting beneath the force of Skate’s violent attack. He grunted and collapsed heavily. “No sweat, Adam!” Skate puffed. “Hey, looks like I’ll be looking out for you, huh, big bro?” Adam smiled. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

Blaze stirred. She opened her eyes, then closed them. A tearing pain suddenly shot through her back, forcing her into a sitting position. When she came to her senses, she realised she was in the middle of an enormous bar fight. She surveyed the scene: Adam and Skate were not too far away, fighting a group of punks in yellow jackets. She recognised the punks as the Signal posse – notorious Syndicate punks she’d heard about through the police force. So Max had been right about this place being linked to the Syndicate. She turned and saw Dr. Zan on the far side of the dance floor. He was picking up Syndicate thugs and throwing them around like toys. She winced. Now I remember how I got here! She’d been waiting outside the club, with Zan and Skate, while the others went in to find Electra. Unfortunately it seems they’d attracted someone’s attention – and they’d been set upon by a swarm of maniacal street punks. One of them had lifted her, and – She massaged the back of her neck and realised she was covered in broken glass. Fucking hell. That was a hard throw! She struggled to her feet and stretched, trying to spot Axel in the whirling crowd. She couldn’t see him. Regaining composure, she made her way past the dancing podiums and performing booths, and found the bar. There, she saw Axel laying on the floor unconscious. His clothing was burned and smouldering. He was laying at the feet of a slim, attractive blonde woman dressed in tight blue leather. She had a shock whip in her hand, and was using it to send violent currents through Max’s torso. Max staggered backward. “Electra…” Blaze said, almost in a whisper. Electra had flowing hair and her lips were pouted as she whipped Max again and said, “Did you think I would be so stupid, Max? That I would just let you waltz in here and I would give you the location of our most secure stronghold?” Max cried out in pain. “You weak pathetic fool!” she cried and spat at him.

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Seizing the opportunity, Blaze stepped forward and moved to attack Electra. But Electra, sensing Blaze’s approach through the corner of her vision, lifted her leg and cracked the high heel of her boot into Blaze’s shoulder, then flicked her wrist and sent the shock whip coursing across her shoulders. Blaze fell back, convulsing violently as she became part of the electric current burning through the coils of the whip. She gasped and collapsed. Electra smiled and licked her lips. “Blaze Fielding,” she said. “Well I’ll be damned.” Suddenly, Max was on his feet and rushing at her. He chopped the air with his fists, and they found their target. Electra’s vision went blank and she collapsed to the floor, but after a mere second she was on her feet again, brandishing the whip. She slashed it across Max’s ribs, forcing him back. Blaze whimpered as she lay helplessly alongside Axel. She didn’t have the strength to get back up… “Electra! Don’t do this!” Max croaked. “I know you! You’re a good fighter! How could you sell yourself to someone like Mr. X?” “Shut up!” Electra hissed. “What I do with my life is none of your concern, Hatchett. Now fall down with the rest of your pathetic friends.” She cracked the whip again, and this time the pain was too much for Max to bear. He collapsed. Electra watched him fall. She shook her head in disappointment and stepped over the unconscious form of Axel. “David Ghether, eh? You must think I was born yesterday. Sorry, Captain Stone, but next time you’re going to have to come up with a better disguise.” She kicked his head hard once and he rolled onto his side, not moving. She couldn’t believe the audacity of it. Had they really thought that she wouldn’t recognise the Syndicate’s most notorious enemies? Her pulse racing, nostrils flared, Electra saw that the three remaining vigilantes were gaining the upper hand against her men. When she saw Zan, she raised her eyebrows. “My, my. The plot thickens. Barbon, where are you?” The club’s bartender stepped out from behind the bar when he heard her call his name. “Yes, Mistress?” “Get Blaze to the car. Mr. X will reward me well for capturing her.” She licked her lips and Barbon gave her a knowing smile. “I must pop back into the office and get something,” Electra continued, “then I’ll make for the car.” “What about the others?” “Blaze is the only one of any value to Mr. X. You may kill the rest. And do it quickly, get the place cleaned up.…this bar fight is getting out of hand.” “Yes, Mistress.” Barbon bent and picked up the unconscious form of Blaze Fielding. He slipped into a back door that led into the parking lot outside. There was Electra’s personal limousine – sleek, white and very expensive. It had been paid for by the Syndicate, of course, and Electra used it to travel when on her…personal business. Barbon placed Blaze in the back of the limo and bound her legs and arms with rope from the trunk. Then he closed the door and made his way back inside, flexing his muscles. As he did so, he passed Electra, who was now wearing an expensive-looking fur coat and carrying a briefcase. She was accompanied by her driver. “Contact the Inner Sanctum,” Electra told him. “Let them know I have her.” “Yes, Mistress.” Barbon paused and watched as Electra boarded the limo. Her driver got in the front and the vehicle pulled away. Then he turned and went back into the club.

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Time to straighten this mess out.

“We’re wasting time fighting these punks!” Zan cried. He glided across the dance floor and extended his metallic arms. There was a whirring sound and his arms seemed to grow longer. They smashed into a couple of suited bouncers, knocking them flat, and retracted back into their sockets. “Dr. Zan! Watch out!” Skate dashed past Zan’s legs and launched himself into a flying head-butt, toppling a group of punks who were sneaking up behind him. Zan nodded. “Thankyou, my young friend. Adam, might I suggest we -” “Shit!” Adam shouted, his eyes transfixed on the scene at the bar. “They’ve taken Blaze. Come on, we’ve got to get over there!” Swarms of thugs and goons stood in their way. The fighting was intense. Seems most of the clientele here was involved with Electra’s circle in some way. “There’s too many of them!” Zan yelled. “They’ve been holding us back for too long, now I must act. Get behind me.” Zan raised his arms in a defiant gesture, towering above the punks rushing towards him. At that moment, the air around him was charged and lit up with fierce electricity that raged across his form. He stood there for a second, then the electric charge blasted out, engulfing the attacking crowd, consuming them. Energy forked its way between them all, and for a moment the crowd, as one, formed a human circuit. Then Zan relaxed, and all that could be seen in front of them was thick black smoke. “Sweet!” Skate grinned. Adam wasted no time. With the path now clear, he raced toward the bar and checked on Axel and Max, who were both coming around, dazed and weakened by Electra’s shock-whip. “Guys! You okay?” Max nodded, but didn’t speak. “I’ll live,” Axel told him. “Where’s Blaze?” “She’s gone. I think Electra took her. They went out back somewhere.” Axel shook his head. “Christ. This is a disaster. Come on.” They moved toward the door behind the bar, but before they reached it, they saw it swing open and crash against the wall. In stepped Barbon, with a look of fierce determination on his face. When he saw the smouldering bodies littering the dance floor, he froze in horror. “Surprise, asshole!” Skate said mockingly. Before Barbon had time to react, Axel drove into him with his fists, then twisted and dragged his right fist up into an uppercut that thundered into Barbon’s jaw. “Grand Upper!” Barbon fell on his back. Then Axel was on top of him, grabbing him by the collar, and he felt his hearing go dim as Axel cracked his head against the polished floor. “What happened to Blaze?” Axel was shouting. Barbon shook his head. “F…Fuck you…” He tried to punch, but Axel dodged the attack with no effort and slammed his fist back into Barbon’s face. The man’s nose made a dull crack as the bone was crushed. When Axel took his fist away, the downed bartender spluttered blood. He passed out. “Dammit.” Axel stood, and looked at Adam. “We really screwed this up. Blaze could be anywhere by now.”

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Adam nodded. “If Mr. X gets his hands on Blaze we’re in big trouble.” “We don’t have time for this,” Max said. “Our predicament is dire,” Zan conceded. “But do not despair. We simply need to switch to plan B.” “There’s a plan B?” Max asked, blinking. Zan nodded. “Of course.”

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6 Plan B

Electra smiled to herself as she watched the two guards lower Blaze onto a table in the middle of the holding cell. Blaze was still unconscious, and made no effort to struggle as the burley men pressed her arms and legs into stainless steel binders and coded the locks. This bitch wasn’t going anywhere. Satisfied that the restraints were secure, they turned to Electra and stood to attention. “Good work,” Electra told them. “When Shiva arrives, send him directly to me. Dismissed.” The guards bowed, and turned to leave. Once the door was closed behind them, Electra returned her gaze to Blaze Fielding and frowned. Blaze was dressed in a fiery red mini skirt and matching cut-off top. Electra shook her head in distaste. “Pathetic. I really don’t approve of your dress sense, darling.” Blaze made a quiet mewing sound, and began to stir. After a few moments, she blinked open her eyes and tried to move. When she found that she couldn’t, her mouth opened. “Wh..Where…What the fuck? What’s going on? Where am I?” She struggled against the metal restraints that held her down. Slumped. Electra smiled and moved closer to Blaze so that she could see her. “Welcome to the Inner Sanctum, darling. You’re in a holding cell. Shiva’s on his way.” “You Syndicate bitch!” Blaze hissed, and tried yanking her arms free again. Dammit! It didn’t work. She gritted her teeth and roared, “Where’s Axel?” Electra moved her face closer to Blaze, her expression betraying no emotion. “Axel Stone? That interfering policeman?” Blaze blinked. Electra raised her eyebrows. “I’m afraid he’s dead. All of your friends are dead.” She smiled and moved away again. Blaze screwed her face up as the words drove into her mind. Her eyes swelled with tears. “I don’t believe you.” “Whether or not you believe me is irrelevant. The fact is that they are dead, and you are back in our custody where you belong.” Blaze felt a sick feeling in her gut. Even though she knew it was futile, she continued struggling against the restraints. No! Blaze thought. This can’t be happening! “Liar!” she croaked. Suddenly, from the corner of the room, a blue light started to blink on the intercom system. Electra went to it and pressed the ‘talk’ button. “Yes?” The voice of the guard came through loud and clear: “Mistress, Shiva has arrived.” “Good. Send him straight in.”

Blaze’s mind whirled. They couldn’t be dead! Axel, Adam, Zan, Skate, Max – no, they just couldn’t be… She shook her head and winced. Her body still ached from the electric shocks that had incapacitated her. I have to try and think positive, she said

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to herself, if I’m going to get out of this one. Somehow they did survive, and they’re looking for me. Blaze watched as Electra moved across the room and started talking into an intercom. A moment later, the door opened and Leon Shiva stepped in. He turned to look at Blaze and grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Oh, Fuck,” Blaze muttered. “My, my, Blaze Fielding,” Shiva observed. “How convenient.” He turned to Electra. “Where did you find her?” “The 69 Bar,” Electra told him. “She was with the deserter, Dr. Zan, and Max Hatchett, the turncoat from Neo-Pharm. The renegade cops were there too. They were trying to find the location of General Petrov.” Shiva nodded distastefully. “I suspected as much. I trust they were unsuccessful?” “Of course, Leon,” Electra reassured him. She moved closer to him and coiled her arms around his chest. Her lips went to his ear. “They were no match for me,” she whispered. “Or my men.” “Good, Electra,” Shiva said. “Very good.” He smiled, and made no attempt to resist as Electra moved to kiss him. The kiss was slow, open-mouthed and passionate. When it ended, Electra pulled back, licking her lips tartly. “I did this for you, Leon,” Electra said. “For us.” “I know.” Shiva looked into Electra’s eyes. Then he turned, and moved towards Blaze, clenching his fists. Blaze watched him approach with a wave of anxiety. “Fuck you! What do you want from me, Shiva?” “Consider yourself lucky that Mr. X wants you alive, bitch!” Shiva said to her, resisting the urge to punch her in the face. “I would relish the chance to kill you myself right now.” “Your concern is touching,” Blaze muttered, eyes like daggers. Her heart was racing. “Why don’t you try talking to me like a person, and not an animal! I’m a person and my name is Blaze.” Shiva laughed. The sound sent a shockwave of terror through Blaze’s body. “Talk to you like a person? The very concept amuses me. I don’t give a shit about your feelings, you schizophrenic whore. Do you realise how much trouble you’ve caused me these past few years? How much damage you’ve done to the Syndicate…my Syndicate…” Shiva realised he was shouting, and had shared a bit too much of his personal agenda than he’d wanted. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Fucking bitch. You are nothing more than a renegade Syndicate asset. Your personality is something that should have been erased from your brain years ago. Junk data. A Virus. Nothing more.” “I’m a person!” Blaze retorted. “I had a life! A family who loved me! The Syndicate killed my family and experimented on me against my will!” Shiva shrugged. “And had the experiment been completed, you would now be blissfully unaware of said events. Like I said, you’re a Syndicate asset now. A renegade one at that.” Blaze swallowed. “No! I am a person! I have feelings! I…” Shiva held out his palm and Blaze went silent. He pointed his finger at her head. “Once, perhaps, you were a person. A human. But not after the experiments. Not now. You have been genetically modified, Blaze.” Blaze flushed. She felt the familiar rush of aura inside her as he said those words. “Genetically…modified…?” she gasped. So Dr. Zan had been right!

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Shiva smiled, clearly pleased at the distress this information was causing her. “Yes, genetically modified. We were doing early stem cell eugenics experiments, trying to create an ‘ultimate life form’, so to speak. Mr. X is quite the visionary, if somewhat unethical.” Shiva chuckled, old memories beginning to resurface. “I remember the speech he gave when he signed the order to keep you imprisoned so that further…unethical experiments could be conducted.” He grinned. “He called you our ‘phantom guinea pig’. We modified a great many of your genes using Triazolam, the chemical form of the drug ‘Fire’, which, of course, was later used for the Project X super soldiers. You were the progenitor of Project X!” “But it wasn’t legal! You had no right to use me like that!” Shiva ignored her. “You were an experiment into creating a true superhuman. The first of your kind – homo superior – an elite unit that would help with Mr. X’s campaign to dominate the world. I believe you’re already familiar with one of the psychokinetic abilities we gave you?” “The fireball…” Blaze said. “Indeed. Like I said, you are now no longer human. But unchecked and without a memory wipe, your powers could spell extreme danger to yourself and others without being brought under our control. If I had it my way, I would destroy you now and be done with it. You’ve cost us enough in wasted resources already. But Mr. X has personally requested that you be kept alive. I’m just following orders…for now.” “How patriotic of you,” Blaze said dryly. She looked into his eyes. “I…” Shiva was caught by her gaze. He looked wounded. For a moment, Leon Shiva and Blaze Fielding stared into each other’s eyes. For the first time, Shiva appeared to perceive her as someone rather than something. Then Shiva blinked. He turned his back to her and put his hands on his hips. He took a deep breath and exhaled heavily, shaking his head. Blaze watched him for a moment, silently pondering what was going on in his mind. Seems she’d hit a nerve with her remark about patriotism. She decided to take advantage of his discomfort. Leaning forward she said, “Shiva, tell me about Project Y. What’s Mr. X up to this time?” Shiva turned to face Blaze with a look of surprise. “You’ve heard of Project Y? Hmmph. I suppose Dr. Zan told you about it.” Blaze nodded. “He told me that he was forcibly used as a test subject for ‘phase one’ of Project Y.” Shiva seemed to relax a little. “Ah…yes. Phase one was very much the experimentation phase. We wanted to develop the next generation of X Robot, by combining a state-of-the-art combat exoskeleton with a living being. Zan was a perfect test subject.” Blaze shook her head. “Even though he had no say in the matter. Unbelievable. Heartless…. So was there a phase two to this Project Y?” “Of course there was, you blithering cow!” Shiva mocked. “But I’m afraid I can tell you no more. It’s top secret. Now if you will excuse me, I have a phone call to make.” *** The sun was sinking in the west. Black clouds loomed on the horizon. A storm was coming.

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Adam gazed at the weather and frowned. Great, he thought. He drove an LAPD Swat Enforcer down the freeway towards the setting sun, at a steady 70mph. Due to Dr. Zan’s considerable size, they’d needed a larger vehicle, and Adam had ‘borrowed’ the Swat Enforcer from his precinct. A stormy night was coming, but they couldn’t afford to rest. Time was of the essence now – they needed to find Blaze and to rescue the General before it was too late. “So what do we do now?” Skate asked. He was sitting in the rear compartment of the truck along with Zan and Max. Axel was seated in front with Adam. “Good question, Skate. We have our transportation now, and we’re heading west just like you said, Dr. Zan. I think it’s time you let us in on this ‘Plan B’ of yours.” “Certainly,” Zan said. “You see, I suspected the Syndicate would try something like this, so Blaze agreed to be fitted with a locater tag before we set off on our mission. The idea was, if Blaze was captured by the Syndicate, we’d be able to find her. Using my internal sensors we can track her position, and in doing so trace the location of the Syndicate’s Inner Sanctum building, which I suspect would be where they would take her.” “Inner Sanctum building?” Skate asked. Max nodded. “Yes, it’s supposedly right here in LA. A secret meeting place for some of the Syndicate’s highest ranking operatives. Makes sense. Electra’s one of them.” Axel smiled. “So by capturing Blaze, they’ve led us straight to them.” “Exactly,” Zan said. “Once we find Blaze, we can also find out everything we need to know about the droid general. Where he is, and what’s going on. I just need to interface with the Inner Sanctum computer system.” “Sounds like a good plan, in theory,” Max said. “You realise it will be heavily guarded.” “I am well aware of that, Mr. Hatchett,” Zan answered. “We can use the police weapons located in this vehicle, if necessary,” he gestured to the pistols and automatic shotguns strapped to the walls of the Swat Enforcer, “to achieve this goal.” “Taking out guards shouldn’t be too difficult,” Adam said. “I wouldn’t like to run into any Inner Sanctum Bosses though. Some of the most notorious criminals to be connected with the Syndicate – Abadede, Rocky Bear, among others.” “I just hope Blaze is okay,” Axel said. Adam nodded. “Yeah, me too. Dr. Zan, how much farther? Are you still picking up Blaze’s signal?” “I certainly am,” Zan replied. “Take the next exit off the highway and into the commercial district. We’re not far.” “Good,” said Max. “We’ve waited long enough.” He reached up and pulled a semi-automatic 9mm weapon from its holster on the wall of the Swat Enforcer. He loaded the clip, felt the gun’s weight in his hands, and swallowed dryly. “Let’s do this.” *** The sound of gunfire from somewhere in the building startled Shiva. The general alert klaxon started wailing. He turned to look at Electra, who returned his concerned gaze. Automatic weapons were being fired!

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Electra pulled out a sidearm, her senses on full alert. “I’ll take a look.” She left through the cell door and closed it quietly behind her. Shiva turned to Blaze, gave her a venomous stare, then went to the intercom. “This is Shiva. What the hell is going on? Respond.” “Sir!” came a tech’s voice. “The Inner Sanctum has been breached. Multiple casualties. It’s them, sir! There’s five of them. Stone, Hunter, Hatchett, Zan, and some kid. They’re on level 3 at the moment. Heading your way.” Shiva cursed silently to himself. “Copy that. I’ll deal with them myself.” He looked at Blaze and said, “Your friends have survived and found their way in. Braving a rescue attempt, no less. I should have known they would be able to track you here. Methodical bastards!” Blaze smiled. “Hard to kill, and even harder to stop.” “Not this time!” Shiva roared, and yanked open the cell door. The sound of gunfire seemed louder, coming from somewhere beyond the hallway outside the room. Shiva disappeared through the open door, closing it behind him. The noise softened as the door clicked itself shut. Blaze, alone and tied to the table in the small holding cell, could do nothing but listen to the muffled sounds. The sounds - of gunfire, banging, shouting. She closed her eyes and a tear rolled down her cheek. She hoped, she prayed, they would make it. *** Axel walked ahead, almost at a jog, as they made their way down the level 3 corridor. Adam, Max, Zan and Skate were close behind him. They all carried weapons. So far, the battle through the Inner Sanctum building had been easier than he’d anticipated; they’d encountered some heavy resistance on the way in, granted, but as they’d made their way up to the building’s third floor, where Zan’s sensors had pinpointed Blaze’s position, security had been surprisingly thin. They came to a doorway at the end of the corridor, and when they entered, Axel froze. “Electra!” he shouted. She was about a dozen or so metres away, on the other side of a large hall that was filled with grotesque statues sequestered with exhibit signs. It was like some kind of museum room, but Axel didn’t have time to think about history right now. When Electra saw them she gasped and instinctively pulled the trigger on her pistol. A 9mm round shot towards them and missed. She quickly ducked behind one of the statue exhibits. “Why can’t you just die?” she hissed. Axel aimed his shotgun, and squeezed the under hair trigger. He grunted as the weapon clicked and refused to fire. He was out of ammo. Wasting no time, he threw it to the floor and charged at her. As he did so, he allowed himself to be drawn into a dark frenzy of rage. Electra will pay for what she’s done! he thought. When he reached her, his fists hit her with lightning speed. She dropped her weapon and stumbled back, dazed. Axel continued his barrage of punches, then leapt up and cracked her in the head with a vertical kick. She fell to the floor, but Axel did not stop. He brought his knees down on her ribs with the weight of his entire body.

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She screamed. There was a squelching, cracking sound, and she vomited blood. Gasping, she looked toward Axel with a face of fear and pain. Something that, in the intensity of the moment, filled Axel with glee. Axel roared. Getting to his feet, he kicked her in the head, then picked her up and sent her flying over his shoulder. She sailed across the room and crashed into one of the statue exhibits. It was a solid marble statue, that depicted a man raising his arms in defiance towards God. The glass display cabinet smashed loudly on impact, and Electra’s spinal cord shattered under the stress. In an instant, she was dead. Her body slumped to the ground, limp and lifeless. Axel stood there breathing heavily, shocked at what he’d just done, his body surging with adrenaline. Suddenly, he felt Adam’s hand touch his shoulder, pulling him back to reality. “Axel, you okay?” Adam spoke almost in a whisper. Axel blinked and turned to look at Adam. “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just…well, that was personal, you know?” Adam nodded. Electra had put Blaze’s life in jeopardy by bringing her to the Syndicate. Axel loved Blaze, and was fiercely loyal to her. “Yeah. I understand.” Behind them, Zan interrupted: “Axel! Adam! Come and have a look at this!” “Make it quick,” Axel ordered. They moved to join Zan. He was standing by one of the statue exhibits, examining it closely. The statue was carved into the shape of a large equilateral cross with its arms bent at right angles in a clockwise direction. “It’s a swastika!” said Skate, who stood nearby with Max. “Very observant of you, lil’ bro,” Adam taunted. He looked at Zan and said, “What’s the significance, Doctor?” Zan studied the swastika carefully, nodding to himself, his head making a strange clicking sound as he contemplated his thoughts. Then he turned to Adam and said, “The swastika was once associated with the concept of an “Aryan” race. “ “Aryan race?” Skate echoed. “What’s that?” “The Aryan race is a concept in Nazi ideology,” Zan told him. “It holds that the Germanic and Nordic people represent an ideal and ‘pure race’. Mr. X must feel that his experiments are somehow linked with this master race concept.” He moved around the room looking at the other exhibits on display. “Napolean. Alexander the Great. Adolf Hitler. There are some symbols from eastern religions, too. Symbols from the occult. Some of them I don’t recognise but they all seem to suggest an obsession with power. I’m guessing this is one of Mr. X’s private collections, stored here at the Inner Sanctum. How tasteful.” “All of the pieces on display here have fascist connotations,” Max observed. Axel became impatient. “This is all very interesting..” he said, “but can we talk about it later? We came to rescue Blaze remember? Let’s get moving before more bad guys show up!” “Too late!” called a familiar voice. They turned, and saw Leon Shiva. He was holding a machine gun at them, his face covered in sweat. He looked seriously pissed off, and when he saw Electra’s lifeless body, he seemed to explode with anger. “You fucking bastards!” he hissed. “Die!” He fired the machine gun. Zan pushed the others out of harm’s way using his mechanical arms, and took the full force of the gunfire on his armour. The bullets chipped away paintwork and left carbon burns, but caused little damage. He rushed toward Shiva with a sliding tackle. Shiva saw him coming, and dodged lazily to one side, snapping up a kick that caught Zan on the face. Zan cursed and fell back, using his metallic arms to defend

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himself as Shiva drove into him with a powerful combination attack. But Zan was too slow. He slumped to the ground in pain and frustration. Shiva stood there for a moment glaring at Zan, then jolted his body to one side, narrowly avoiding a flying chop from Max, who had sneaked up from behind. Shiva countered the attack by jabbing the butt end of his machine gun into Max’s face. Max fell back. “Amateurs,” Shiva sneered. Then he could sense the approach of the others. He looked up and saw Axel, Skate and Adam coming at him from all sides, wielding 9mm weapons. “I’ll kill you all!” Shiva screamed and went to shoot Axel, but he wasn’t fast enough. Blam! Blam! Blam! Adam shot him three times. Shiva caught the 9mm rounds on the back of his left shoulder and cried out in pain. Blood sprayed. The blasts blew away chunks of flesh and he crumpled to the ground face first. There was silence. He didn’t get back up. “Good shot,” Axel said, and kicked Shiva’s weapon aside. “Thanks,” Adam grinned. “Now let’s find Blaze, shall we?” *** The door to Blaze’s cell loomed ahead of them. Axel started sprinting. When he reached the door he didn’t wait for the others to catch up. He kicked the door hard, and it burst open with a force that almost tore it from its hinges. Axel stepped in and saw Blaze, restrained on a large coffin-shaped table. “Blaze!” he shouted. “Thank God! You okay?” She nodded. “Better now you’re here! Quickly, get me out of these restraints.” He ran over to her and punched an MI-7 master code into each of the binders that restrained her limbs. The locks released, and Blaze sat up, throwing her arms around Axel, embracing him for all he was worth. “Oh, Axel! I knew you’d come!” she said and kissed him. It was warm and right. Axel smiled. “Of course, honey.” They embraced again, and as they did so, Zan, Skate, Adam and Max filed into the room. Their faces lit up with joy when they saw Blaze. “Blaze! It’s good to see you!” Zan said. Blaze jumped off the table, and had to steady herself with one arm in order to stand upright. She felt weak. “Good to see you too, doctor. It’s good to see all of you. I’m guessing you were able to track my homing beacon signal.” Zan nodded. “Exactly as we had discussed.” Blaze gave a courteous bow. “I am in your debt, doctor. Mr. X wanted me alive…I…I…er, that is…” “Save your strength, Blaze,” Axel told her. “There will be plenty of time for questions later. Zan, can you access the Inner Sanctum computer system from here?” “Affirmative,” Zan answered. “There’s a socket by the door.” “Plug in. See if you can download the information we need about General Petrov.” Zan went to the computer socket and inserted a long interface device that extended outward from the end of his right forefinger. It clicked and whirred as it slotted into the port. “Accessing…” he said. After a moment of tense silence, he

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nodded. “I’ve found it. There are hundreds of files. Downloading them now. Please wait.” Max shifted uncomfortably as the seconds ticked past. “You know, this place could be swarming with Syndicate punks at any second. How long is this going to take?” Zan retracted his device from the computer socket. “It’s done.” Axel put his arm around Blaze and said, “Right, good work, team. Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”

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7 Reykjavík, Iceland

Zan’s download had given them all the information they needed. General Petrov was being held at a Syndicate-controlled army base near the cliffs in the vicinity of Reykjavík, southwest Iceland. The base had been converted into a research facility, where the General’s robot double was being produced, under the supervision of Dr. Dahm and other Syndicate officials. The Reykjavík area coastline was characterized by peninsulas, coves, straits and islands. Luckily, they had a map, as well as the base schematics. After rereading the information on Petrov, Blaze folded the papers and carefully tucked them into the overnight bag under Axel’s seat. She reached up to switch off the reading light and then settled back in her seat, trying to let the smooth hum of the private jet’s engines lull her into a doze. Zan was at the plane’s controls, and most of the others were asleep; the dim “night” lights and the steady drone of the engines had certainly worked for Axel, seated next to her. But even as drained as she felt by the evening’s events, she gave up the effort after a minute or two. There was too much to think about, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep without at least sorting through some of it. I feel like I’m dreaming already anyway; this is just another weird tangent, a subplot that came out of left field… In the past three years, she’d escaped from a psychiatric institution, gone through LAPD police training, and moved to her first apartment in Beverly Hills – having ended up as one of the survivors of a man-made disaster involving supersoldier robots and a government conspiracy. In the past day, her life had taken yet another totally unexpected turn. She’d learned that she had been an experimental superhuman since her days at the hospital! She’d been ‘reengineered’ and was now beginning to ‘come-of-age’. She rolled her head to the side and looked at Axel, crashed out in the window seat, dark circles of exhaustion beneath his closed lids. She hadn’t told him, or any of the others, what Shiva had told her about the experiments. She was still trying to come to terms with the knowledge herself. It would take time to sink in, and she felt a sudden craving for a cannabis cigarette to alleviate the tension. She closed her eyes and tried to focus, taking a deep breath of the cool, pressurised air hissing through the cabin. “How’s it going, Blaze?” It was Adam, leaning across from the seat in front of her. Blaze tried to smile, but grimaced instead. “I’m hanging in there.” “Five hours to Reykjavík,” he told her. “You might want to get some sleep. We may not get another chance for a while.” He settled back into his chair, and within moments he was snoring. Blaze decided that Adam was right, she had to get some sleep. She cleared her mind as best she could and focused on her breathing, slowing it down, counting

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backward in her mind from one hundred. The meditation technique had never failed her before, though she didn’t think it would work this time. …ninety-nine, ninety-eight… Before she reached ninety, she was deeply asleep, dreaming of shadows that no light had cast. ***

Shortly after landing in Iceland, Axel went over the briefing with them. “Our objective is to get into the compound, rescue General Petrov, and get out again with as little trouble as possible. I’ll go over every step thoroughly, and if you have any questions or ideas about how to proceed, no matter how trifling, I want to hear them. Understood?” There were nods all around. Axel continued, comfortable that his point was made. “Point of entry,” he said. He looked down at the map and sighed inwardly. “If this were an open assault, we could go in by helicopter or just hop the fence. But if we trigger an alarm, it’s over before we even start. Since we don’t want to risk discovery, our best option is to go in by a boat. We can use one of the rafts in the cargohold.” Skate piped up, frowning slightly. “Wouldn’t they have guards on the pier?” Axel touched the map, putting his finger just below the notched line of the fence, south of the compund. “Actually, I don’t recommend using the pier at all. If we go in here, go past the pier -” he traced upward, running the length of the line. “-we can get a look at the layout of the entire compound, and hide the raft in one of the caves beneath the mountain.” “Won’t the raft attract attention if anyone’s outside watching?” Blaze asked. Axel shook his head. “It’s black, and has an underwater motor. If we go in before sunrise, we should be invisible.” He waited as they thought it over, not wanting to rush them. They were good people, his team, but this was a volunteer assignment. If any one of them had serious doubts, it was better to address them now. Besides which, he was open to suggestions. His gaze fell across Blaze’s face, and for a moment he admired her quick brown eyes as she thoughtfully considered his plan. “On to specifics,” he said. “Once we get inside, we move in a staggered line through the compound, sticking to shadows. Zan will take point and lead us to the room where Petrov is being held. The rest of us will provide cover. Once we rescue him, we use a helicopter from the nearby airstrip to escape.” “Well, it pretty much sounds like a shit job,” Max said. He smiled at Axel, an uncharacteristically subdued one but a smile all the same. “But you know me, Axel. I love a good fight. And somebody’s gotta stop these assholes from nuking innocent people, right?” Axel nodded briskly, glancing at his watch. It would take them a couple of hours to get to the launch site. “Right,” he said. “We’d best get to storage and load up. We can go through the rest of it on our way.” As they stood to leave, Axel reminded himself that they were doing this because it was necessary, that each of them had made up their own mind to participate in this dangerous operation.

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*** Blaze sat in the back of the van and loaded clips, Shiva’s words repeating through her thoughts as she thumbed the nine millimeter rounds into each magazine. Mr. X is quite the visionary, if somewhat unethical… He called you our ‘phantom guinea pig’… You were the progenitor of Project X… an experiment into creating a true superhuman. The first of your kind – homo superior. Homo Superior. As the words passed through her mind, Blaze could feel her aura swelling within her. She flushed and closed her eyes. She was swept away by the sensation, a swelling, flowing sensation that penetrated her entire body, making her feel charged. She blinked, trying to ignore it, wanting it to go away… but she knew it wouldn’t. It would only escalate. Her body was evolving into something she didn’t fully understand, and it was happening fast. Too fast for any kind of comfort.. She brushed her hair back with her left hand and tried to shake it off. She had to concentrate on the mission, lives were at stake… It was no good. The aura swelled and flowed within her. It was a part of her now…moving ever closer to the forefront of her conscious mind. She hoped it wouldn’t compromise their mission. She finished another clip and set it aside with the others, absently wiping her oily fingers on the leg of her pants before picking up the next. A welcome breeze whispered through the muggy van, smelling of salt and summer-warmed sea. They’d pulled off the road south of the mountain, finding a clear patch to set up not a quarter mile from the water’s edge. Outside, it was still dark. The not-too-distant sound of soft waves against the shore was soothing, a white noise background to the low voices of the others as they worked. Max and Axel were prepping the raft, while Adam checked out the motor and Zan took the opportunity to recharge his systems. Skate was assembling a medical kit from the supplies they’d ‘borrowed’ from the LAPD. The semi-automatics were cleaned and ready, laying in a neat line next to the checked radio gear on the floor of the van. They weren’t taking any weapons besides the police-issue handguns, Axel insisting that they needed to travel light. Although Blaze agreed, she was sorry they wouldn’t be bringing in the assault rifles, which were equipped with night scopes. As the night began to grow old, they moved down to the water in an uneasy silence, loading their weapons, stretching, staring out at the black Icelandic waters that eddied and swirled. They were as ready as they were going to get. As Adam and Axel slipped the raft into the lapping darkness, Blaze nodded. The General was waiting. It was time to find him.

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8 Into the Base

Adam and Axel climbed in, edging to the front of the six-man raft as Max, Skate and Blaze followed. Zan hopped in last, and at Axel’s signal, started the motor with the push of a button; it was as silent as Axel had promised, only a faint hum that was almost lost in the sound of gently moving water. “Let’s move,” Axel said quietly. Blaze took a deep breath and let it out slowly as they started north, heading for the Syndicate base. Nobody spoke as the shore slid by to their left, shadowy, jagged shapes in the pallid light of the rising moon, an immense and whispering void to their right. Port and starboard, her mind noted randomly. Bow and stern. She searched the blackness for a sign that marked the beginning of the private territory, but couldn’t make out much. It was a lot darker than she’d expected, and colder. The chill she felt was compunded by the knowledge that beneath them lay an infinite and alien world, teeming with cold-blooded life. Blaze saw a flash of soft light as Axel raised a pair of NV binoculars to watch for movement on the shore. The infrared illuminator’s glow spilled across his face for an instant before he adjusted their position, making his features strange and craggy. Now that they were actually doing it, actually on their way, she felt better than she had for days. Not relaxed, by any means – the dread was still there, the fear of the unknown and for what they might encounter – but the feelings of helplessness, the mind-numbing anxiety she’d lived with since the incident in Wood Oak, had eased, giving way to hope. We’re doing something, taking the offensive instead of waiting for them to get us – “I see the fence,” Axel said softly, his face a pale smudge in the bobbing dark. We’ll pass the dock next, maybe see the buildings as we slope up to the base, to the caves… Water slopped at the raft, the sound of muted waves growing as the small craft rocked and shuddered. Blaze felt her heart speed up. While she liked looking at the ocean, she wasn’t all that thrilled to be out in it. She kept her focus on the shore, trying to judge how close they were. Maybe twenty meters away, the towering shadows of trees gave way to a clearing. She could hear water dashing lightly against the rocky shore, sense flat, open space on both sides of them now. They had reached the compound. “There’s the dock,” Axel said. “Zan, veer starboard, two o’clock.” Blaze could just make out the faint, man-made shape of the pier ahead of them, a dark line shifting on the water. There was the hollow, lonely squeak of metal rubbing wood, the small dock raised and straining at its pilings. There were no boats that she could see. As the pier slipped past, Blaze squinted into the darkness beyond. She could just make out the blocky outline of a structure behind the floating wood, what had to

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be a boathouse or marina for the facility. As they got closer she could see six more buildings, five of them spaced evenly along the cove, set into two lines that paralleled the shore – three in front, two behind. The sixth structure was right at the back. “We’ll find Petrov in the furthest building,” Adam whispered. Suddenly, from somewhere nearby, an alarm sounded. “Shit!” Blaze said. “Have they heard us? Seen? We won’t make the caves now, can’t stay here…” “I don’t know,” Axel breathed. “The marina! Quickly! We have to find cover!” They pushed their way to the marina and got out the boat, loading their weapons. “Follow me!” Axel ordered, and jogged forward through the rocky dark. The ground rose steeply in front of them, the buildings looming into view ahead. They clambered up over rocks, and Axel made his way to the closest building, just so they could make it inside, somewhere safe to assess the situation. There was no way to know if it was empty, but they didn’t have a choice. “Stay low,” he whispered, and then they were crouching their way to the structure, Adam reaching the door first, pushing it open. No light spilled out. Skate and Blaze piled in behind him, then Max and Zan – then Axel, stumbling into the dark, closing the wooden door after him with a wet, cold shoulder. “Stop where you are,” he said softly, fumbling for the halogen torch on his belt. Besides the gulping breaths of his team, the room was still – but there was a horrid smell in the close air, a stench of carbon and oil… The alarm outside stopped, and an eerie silence descended upon them. Axel’s thin beam of light cut through the black, revealing a large and mostly windowless room. A workbench ran the length of one wall, a few saw horses, cluttered shelves – - my God – The light froze on the room’s other door, directly across from the one they’d entered. The narrow beam played across the source of the smell, highlighting metal and a tatty, oily-stained suit. Dried strings of synthetic muscle dripped in streamers from a grinning face. A battle-damaged X-Robot was slumped by the door, riddled with bullets. Blaze’s mouth fell open.”It’s an X-Robot,” she said. “A fucking X-Robot!” For a few seconds, nobody spoke. Blaze shuddered. Her aura began to flare up within her, and she felt a hot flush. X-Robots? Here? In Iceland!? “But how?” she asked. “I thought we destroyed them all.” Axel swallowed dryly. “We destroyed the Island Base where they were being created, along with all the robots there. It doesn’t necessarily mean we destroyed all of them. Mr. X could have sent some of them out to his Syndicate bases across the globe as extra manpower or something…” “Which means there could be more of them,” Zan said. “Fuck!” Blaze said and shook her head. “Our situation has not improved.” Max nodded, and knelt to examine the broken X-Robot. Bullets riddled the torso and face, artificial flesh shredded and split. The metallic skull grinned. It looked like something out of a horror movie, and it smelled like it could have been there for days. “I wonder who took him out,” Max said, probing the bullet holes with his fingers. “Whoever did this was using a submachinegun.” “Maybe we should look around a little more -” Blaze began hesitantly, but Axel was shaking his head.

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“I think it’s best if we leave this for now. We’ll -” He broke off as heavy, plodding footsteps sounded across the wood deck, just outside the door they’d come through. Everyone froze, listening. More than one set, and whoever they were, they were making no effort to hide their approach. They stopped at the door – and stayed there, no rattling knob, no crashing kick, no other sound. Waiting. Axel circled one finger in the air, pointed to Adam and then to the other door, blocked by the grisly remains of the X-Robot. The signal to move out, Adam first. They edged toward the grinning robot, Skate wincing at every shifting creak they created as they pushed it forwards, away from the door, breathing through his mouth to avoid inhaling the stench – - and as Adam pushed the door open, the silence was shattered by the rattle of automatic fire, coming from in front of them, to the left – coming from the direction of their escape. Adam jumped back as bullets cracked into the door. Chunks of synthetic flesh and shards of metal spattered up from the robot; it danced and waved in a shuddering, jerking rhythm of macabre motion. Whoever was shooting was coming closer, the explosive shots louder, the splinters of metal and wood pelting them with greater force. They were trapped, both exits blocked. Blaze clutched her pistol in one shaking hand, watching for a signal from Axel. He pointed roughly northwest, into the compound, shouting to be heard over the whining, spitting clatter of the automatic fire. “Blaze, other door! Zan, Adam, next building, secure! Max, Skate, we cover! Go!” As one, Max, Skate and Axel leaped out and started to fire, the booming rounds punctuating the lighter hail of deadly ammo. Zan and Adam charged out at a full run, were instantly swallowed up by the shadows. Blaze spun and trained her weapon on the back door, her heart pounding in her throat. The walls trembled and shook. “Die, Jesus, why won’t they die?” Skate screamed behind her, a disturbingly familiar strain of disbelief and terror in his innocent young voice that made her blood run cold. X-Robots! Without looking away from the rectangle of dark wood, Blaze shouted as loud as she could, her voice cracking over the relentless spray of the automatics. “Head shots! Aim for the head!” There was no way to know if they’d heard her. “Blaze, let’s go!” There was still the sound of an automatic firing, but the building no longer shook from the impact of its force. She shot a glance back, saw Skate still shooting at something, saw Axel motioning at her to move. She sidled for the open door, catching a sickening, up-close look at the bulletriddled effigy still laying there. The head had caved in like a rotten pumpkin, teeth shattered, gummy flecks of synthetic tissue radiating out from behind the skull. Suddenly, the back door crashed open, bullets flying through the dark in a blaze of orange fire. Axel pushed her roughly through the front and she ran, the responding crack of 9mm rounds resonating behind her. - get to the building, get to cover –

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She sprinted through the shadows, her wet shoes thumping across packed, rocky dirt, her searching gaze finding the outline of a massive, concrete block and the spindly trees that surrounded it in the darkness ahead. “Here -” She veered toward the call, saw Max’s muscular form silhouetted by pale starlight at the corner of the building. As she neared him, she saw the open door, Adam and Zan standing in the entry with their weapons trained back toward the other building. “Get in!” Adam shouted, stepping out of the way, and Blaze ran past him, not slowing until she was inside. She fell into a table in the pitch black, cracking one hip against the edge. Turning, she saw Adam firing, heard Max yelling, “Come on, come on -” - and Skate pounded through the door, gasping. He pulled to a stop before crashing into her, one hand clutching his chest. Blaze moved to the door and grasped the cool thickness, her mind absently registering that the material was steel as Axel hurtled through, shouting. “Adam! Zan!” Adam backed into the darkness, weapon still raised. There were three more gunshots and then Zan glided in, his jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring. Blaze slammed the door, her fingers finding a deadbolt switch. The soft snick of the lock was barely audible against the ringing in their ears. Outside, the bullets stopped. There was no noise from the attackers, no alarms. The sudden silence was total, broken only by the deep, shuddering breathing in the warm and muggy darkness. A halogen beam flickered on, revealing the shocked faces of the team as Axel shone it around their retreat. It was a midsize room, crowded with desks, computer equipment, and row upon row of weapons: machineguns, assault rifles and rocket launchers. There were no windows. They’d retreated into an armoury. “Did you see that?” Skate gasped, addressing no one in particular. “God, they wouldn’t go down, did you see that?” “X-Robots,” Adam said to him. “We’ve faced these sons of bitches before. We’ll need heavier weapons.” “Well, we found the armoury,” Max said with a beaming grin, already picking up weapons and loading clips. “Nice going, Axel.” Axel nodded. “I think it’s safe to assume we were spotted,” he said, hoping that he didn’t sound as despairing as he felt. “Any idea what’s going on here, Zan?” Zan’s neck whirred as he turned his head. “The X-Robots are guarding General Petrov. My sensors have picked up his life readings. He is alive and in a stable condition. I have detected two other human life readings in the same building, but that is all. Other than that, we’re the only ones here.” “I thought we were going to find lots of people here,” Blaze said, confused. Zan nodded. “Indeed…the files from the Inner Sanctum computer indicated that we could expect a facility staffed by a crew of at least sixty scientists here, and twenty Syndicate officials and employees, yet we find only two readings, most likely Syndicate, and a contingent of X Robots to guard the General.” “There was at least twenty of them,” Adam said, swallowing in the depths of his throat.

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“The Syndicate must be planning to abandon the complex soon. If they’ve evacuated the science team, we can only assume they have already extracted the General’s genetic data and created his robot double.” Axel nodded. “Which means Petrov doesn’t have much time left.” He moved to a table and picked up an M-16 assault rifle. He slapped in a magazine. “Let’s keep moving. Lock and load, people.”

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9 General Alert

Axel gently pushed the armoury door open. No sound, no movement. Holding his M-16 at the ready, he stepped away from the building and moved quickly through the silvery dark, followed closely by Skate. Blaze and Zan moved to cover their right flank, Adam and Max taking the left. They all carried assault rifles, apart from Adam, who was carrying an M136 AT-4 rocket launcher. The building where they would find Petrov was about fifty metres ahead of them. Axel’s mind fed him the facts, the cool wind, the soft tread of boots against dirt, the smell and taste of the ocean – but no sign of the X-Robots. “Where are they?” Blaze whispered frantically. She held her weapon close, scanning the dark, trying to see them. Rat-atat-atat -atat! Bullets hit the dirt at Axel’s feet. He leapt forward and rolled across the ground, raising the assault rifle as he did so. His arms buckled violently as he fired the weapon. The robots were swarming in from the left flank about thirty metres away, opening fire. Adam saw them coming, and quickly moved to aim the rocket launcher he was carrying on his shoulder. “Heads up!” he shouted, and fired. They ran to find cover behind the next building as the missile zipped through the air towards the X-Robots and exploded violently, blasting away half a dozen robots in an expanding ball of fire and debris that quickly turned into black smoke. The impact sent a shockwave that made the ground tremble beneath their feet, and the air around them grew warm and dry. Blinking, Axel reached the building’s corner and slid around, letting his heightened senses continue to feed him information. He saw fire licking at the ground, and a wall of thick, black smoke. Then, through the blur, he saw the remaining XRobots as shadows, stepping through the destruction, opening fire. “Go! Move!” he ordered. He charged into action, his M-16 blazing, tearing through metal and synthetic flesh. He made a bee line for the sixth structure, ducking behind trees to avoid being hit by enemy fire. Shards of wet tree bark and shredded leaves were flying all over the place. Blaze followed at a sprint, gritting her teeth as she pointed her assault rifle and fired. Robots fell. As she ducked behind the first tree, she heard the others behind her, following, firing at the robotic monstrosities that pursued them. She followed Axel’s lead, reaching the last tree, and saw him at the door of the sixth structure, fumbling with the lock – - and Axel tore the door open and jumped in. He landed on the floor. Blaze was close behind him, and moments later Skate, Max, Zan and Adam piled in. Adam jumped behind the door and closed it, heard the clatter of rounds smash into the metal, stopped inches from his body by the explosive ping-ping-ping that rattled the door. He locked it and fell onto his back, breathing heavily.

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They’d made it. Axel got to his feet. They were in some kind of function room. There was a computer workstation, an overhead projector, and a sitting area large enough to accommodate nine or ten people. There were no windows. Behind the desk, a wooden door loomed. “Everyone okay?” Axel asked. Skate puffed, “Yeah, that was close though!” Blaze nodded. “I hate those things!” Axel made his way to the wooden door across the room, and opened it. “Come on,” he said. They went in, and found themselves in a large, sterile room filled with computers and lab equipment. In the centre of the room, tied with rope to a large throne-like chair, was a middle-aged man dressed in a highly decorated US Army uniform. He had brown hair and a scruffy beard. His facial features were gaunt and scraggy. He looked exhausted. “General Petrov!” Axel called. “Ivan!” Zan barked. As Petrov lifted his head to regard them, a pressure door at the opposite side of the lab opened. Two people stepped in – a white-haired, elderly scientist dressed in a lab coat, and an exotic-looking female in her late twenties, brunette, wearing a Russian military uniform. She carried a .44 Magnum in one hand. “Gilbert Zan, this is a surprise!” the scientist said as they approached casually. “I never thought I’d see you again.” He turned his head to address his female companion. “Didn’t I tell you those X-Robots were obsolete?” Axel raised his weapon. “Don’t move. Who are you?” Before the scientist could answer, Zan said, “It’s Dr. Henry Dahm, mastermind of Project Y…” His eyes moved from the scientist to the woman. “…and Colonel Khristenko.” The woman, Colonel Khristenko, stepped forward. “We meet at last.” “Drop the weapon!” Axel shouted. “Now!” Khristenko looked around, saw that the others were training their assault rifles on her. She frowned and dropped the gun, raising her open palms as it thudded to the ground, bouncing once. “You’re too late,” she said with a strong Russian accent. “The Robot General is now complete, and has already been shipped out of here. It’s on it’s way to Washington D.C as we speak.” “We’ll see about that.” Axel turned to Blaze, keeping his weapon trained on the Russian Colonel. “Blaze, untie the General. Let’s get him out of here.” Blaze nodded, and bent closer to General Petrov, loosening the ropes around his arms and legs. Max stepped over to help her lift the General to his feet. “Zan, who is this woman?” Axel asked, his eyes focused on Khristenko. Khristenko raised her eyebrows. “Colonel Khristenko, a Syndicate insider working in the Russian military,” Zan said, his electronic voice blaring.. “She was the one who arranged for the General’s kidnapping in Paris, and was in charge of this facility overseeing the extraction of his genetic data.” Zan turned to look at Dr. Dahm, the man who had betrayed him. “Henry…why?” Zan’s voice went low and dark He gazed upon his former colleague for a moment, studying his wrinkled face, and said, “We were working for the good of mankind! Why are you following Mr. X and his fascist obsessions? Can’t you see what you’re doing?”

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Henry Dahm smiled. “Fascist obsessions? Is that the limit of your vision? Mr. X is a revolutionary. Combined with my scientific genius, we are going to usher in a new era for humanity! Lives will be lost in the process, but it’s for the greater good, I assure you. The time has come! Project Y is the key, Gilbert. You should know this… more than anyone.” “Not any more,” Axel said. “You’re under arrest.” “I don’t think so!” Khristenko yelled, and flipped forward, executing a spinning kick manoeuvre that knocked the weapon from Axel’s hands. She stayed close to him, punching and jabbing. For a moment, Axel was surprised by the speed and ferocity of her attacks, then as he found himself again, he started to block, using his arms to push back the incoming fists. He knocked her back enough to launch into a violent uppercut. “Grand Upper!” She fell back against the wall, her face bloodied and broken. Blaze stepped forward, lifting her assault rifle. Her aura raged within her with fierce intensity. Ratatatatatatat! Dr. Dahm watched in horror as Khristenko’s body was viciously torn apart by the rip-roaring bullets. He saw her head explode like a watermelon. Blood sprayed. “Syndicate bitch,” Blaze spat, face flushed. She was covered in sweat. Her hair stuck to her shoulders in clumps. The aura inside her was growing stronger now, swelling…overflowing…so hot…it needed to be set free…it needed to… Blaze shook her head and turned the gun towards Dahm, blinking sweat out of her eyes. She hesitated. Dahm turned and ran. Blaze opened fire, but he was already disappearing through the open pressure door. “Shit!” she hissed. “He’s getting away.” “Let him go,” Axel said. “There will be another time.” He turned to the General, who was watching the scene carefully. “General Petrov, are you okay, sir?” Axel asked finally. “We’re here to rescue you.” Petrov nodded. “I’m fine… Thankyou – you saved my life.” “Ivan, it’s good to see you again,” Zan said, moving closer. Petrov blinked. “Gilbert? Is it really you? A pity you should see me in this unpresentable condition…” Blaze frowned. “You’re acquainted?” Petrov nodded. “You didn't know? This man’s father discovered Laxine. Gilbert is also a close friend of mine from our military service years ago. A shame his father’s discovery has been mired by the acts of these terrorists.” “That’s enough talking,” Zan said. “Let’s escape from this place quickly…” “After the first two rescue attempts failed, I almost gave up hope,” Petrov said. “But you’re not SAS. Who are you people?” “We’re the good guys, sir,” Axel answered. “Come on, we have to hurry. The Syndicate is sending a robot copy of you to Washington in order to stir up a nuclear war.” “Yes, I know,” Petrov nodded. He walked over to the shredded corpse of Khristenko and picked up her gun. It was undamaged. He checked the clip and cycled the next round into place. “Follow me, I’ve seen an airstrip not too far from here. We’ll use one of the helicopters to escape.” “That was my plan, sir,” Axel smiled. “Okay, team, let’s move out.”

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They moved away from the building and sprinted in the direction of the airstrip. Adam went first, with Axel in close second. Petrov and the others were behind him, with Blaze at the rear, covering their backs. Within moments they had been spotted, and the air was lit up by the cracking of automatic fire. This time, the XRobots were a good few hundred metres away, to the south, and their aiming was less accurate. There was nothing blocking the team’s escape. The X-Robots started running after them, rapidly closing the distance between them. Blaze screamed with rage and fired off a magazine towards them as she ran, bullet shells flying into the air rapidly. The magazine went dry. It wasn’t enough. The X-Robots were gaining. Blaze dropped her assault rifle to the ground and grabbed her pistol. Blam! Blam! Blam! Fuck, they’re getting closer! she thought, her pulse racing. They reached the landing strip. Adam ran to a big-bellied Sikorsky Helicopter that sat silently in the darkness. He clawed the door open and got in the pilot’s seat, flipping switches. “Fuck! There’s too many -” Blaze screamed from the rear. There had to be twenty, maybe thirty robots swarming towards them, so close now. “We’re not going to make it!” Axel cried over the noise of gunfire. In that instant, something clicked inside Blaze. She felt her entire body light up with ferocious energy. Her aura spun and thrashed within her, reaching boiling point. Here we go again, she thought. She screamed in pain, her body tense, holding her palms out in front of her. Blue energy erupted from her hands and hovered there like fire. She turned to face the robots. “BBAAAAAaaaaa!” Blaze screamed, the blue energy forming a ball of light between her palms, growing larger and larger the more she concentrated her hatred into it. She stood there and put everything she had into it, raising her palms high. The fireball became massive and lit up the air. Wind howled violently around them. The ‘copter’s rotor blades whined into motion. Axel stared in amazement at what Blaze was doing, then turned and leapt into the helicopter. He passed a hand out to General Petrov, helping him aboard. Max, Skate and Zan followed. “You’re fired!” Blaze said, and threw her hands toward the robots. The massive ball of energy charged towards them and exploded, knocking them all back, surges of blue lightning scorching the ground and the air between them. The robots jerked and malfunctioned, every one of them taken out by Blaze’s attack. “Holy Shit!” Petrov shouted from inside the helicopter. Shaking, Blaze stared at her right hand. She made a fist. What have I become? She blinked, took a deep breath and exhaled, then turned to the chopper. She took Axel’s outstretched hand, and leapt on board. “Go, Adam, now!” Axel screamed. The bird lifted into the air and sped away.

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10 Blaze’s Dream

Blaze slept. …Dreaming… In her dreams, she was back home in California… sheltering from the pouring rain under a bus shelter not too far from her house in Beverly Hills. She was happy here, happy with this life… Or was she? Blaze wasn’t sure, and as the rain continued to fall, she yearned for something more…she felt…unfulfilled. The bus shelter housed a bench big enough to seat three people, but Blaze was standing. She revelled in her aura as she smoked a cannabis cigarette. It was raining heavily, pouring onto the street in waves, running into gutters. Thunder boomed. The storm was dark, dreary and full of shadow. Full of looming menace that threatened to leap out at her and attack at any given moment. She was tense, and rightly so. She felt like a stranger here, now, among these people. These inferior things. These weak, pathetic homo sapiens that thought they ‘owned’ the world and everything in it. Yes, she was a stranger. The first of her kind, in fact. Homo Superior. The new Master Race. The next step in the evolution of mankind, bestowed with powers beyond human comprehension! She stood sheltering from the rain, surveying her surroundings. Her skirt was diaphanous yellow silk, belted with gold and precious stones. She was naked above the waist. Her breasts were big and wet. She took a drag of the joint, blew out thick white smoke, and noticed a man running towards her, holding a newspaper over his head in a futile attempt to remain dry. The man reached the shelter and exhaled with relief, casting the newspaper aside. It was Shiva! “I made it,” he was saying. Then he sniffed the air, as if recognising something, and looked at Blaze. “You! Darkness! Despair!” he shouted. “I have big plans for you, if you would only hear me out!” “Shiva…” she purred gently in a trance-like state. “Blaze, it’s not too late…” he said. “Unchecked and without a memory wipe, your powers will spell extreme danger to yourself and others without some form of control. Join me, and I will wipe the irrelevant data from your mind and make you a new woman, the most powerful woman on the entire planet! Together, we will destroy Mr. X and rule the entire world! The Syndicate will be ours! I will give you all the power you could ever want!” Shiva’s body seemed to coil and spin. His eyes were taunting her, and she felt flushed and aroused. “Yes!” she shouted. “Yes! Nothing can destroy me! I am homo superior! I will live forever!” “Forever,” he repeated. She cupped her breasts in her own hands and gazed at him longingly. She stepped out of her open sandals; her feet were slim and neat. She parted the frontal

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split in the yellow skirt she wore and held it so that her lower body was exposed. She wore no underwear. “This is the promise of life for all homo superior.” She placed her right hand on her vagina. “I offer it to you, Leon Shiva.” She undulated her hips, slowly and lewdly as an uncoiling cobra. As she did so, she unclipped her skirt and threw it aside. She moved her feet apart and opened her thighs. With her fingers she spread the lips of her vagina, and began inserting a finger within the dark wetness. “This is the gateway to the future. I open it for you. Together, we will seed an entire race, and we will be their gods!” Shiva nodded and moved toward her. His body was muscular, powerful, drenched with rainwater. Lightning flashed in the sky, thunder boomed. The wind wailed mercilessly, and the rain started to fall even faster, splashing on the overhanging roof of the bus shelter in a torrent, draining to the ground, large puddles alive with motion. Blaze turned her back to him and bent over the seats, legs open. “On here,” she grunted. “Quickly! On the bench!” She watched over her shoulder as he came up behind her. Her buttocks were round and wet. “Come on!” she gagged. Aroused and determined, Shiva removed his clothes and grabbed her from behind by her naked thighs, moving her into position. Blaze turned her head to watch him, swinging her long, wet dark hair back, her teeth clenched, lips parted. He took his erect penis in his right hand and moved it to her vagina’s wet hole. He pushed himself inside, and as he penetrated her, Blaze gasped in pleasure, her body submitting to the thrills that tingled through her system. Shiva grunted and clenched his teeth, wiping sweat from his eyes as he started fucking her hard and fast. He brought his hands round to cup her breasts. The points of her nipples were hard. “Oh, yeah, oh yeah, Leon! Fuck me harder!” Blaze moaned between clenched teeth, her eyes shut tight. Her body slammed backwards and forwards with the violent motion of the sex. “Uh-huh, uh-huh. Just like that, yeah baby. Oh, oh, yeah! Uh-huh! Uh-huh! Oh, fuck…” she squealed, then cried out, reaching orgasm. Shiva roared, his excitement reaching its peak. He ejaculated deep inside her, continuing to thrust his hips back and forth as the bursting, pulsing ecstasy thundered through his body. Blaze closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. She squirmed her buttocks over his penis for a moment, then stepped away. When she opened her eyes again, her pupils were glowing an unearthly red colour. “Oh, yes!” she whispered. “I can feel it! It is done! Now, let us rule the world together!” Shiva smiled. “Wield your power well.” Blaze nodded. The air was lit up then, as her body radiated a brilliant, mesmerising light. Forks of blue electricity crackled and lashed out from the light. Shiva fell back and landed on the ground. He laid there aghast, beholding the awesome sight before him. “Yes!” Blaze screamed. She floated up into the sky, a huge mass of white fire, thrashing and coiling like an engine revving itself apart. “The power! …the absolute…POWER!” There was a blinding explosion of light and energy, and she took form as a huge deity hanging in the sky, hovering atop a vast tornado, surrounded by an immense field of raging chaos.

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Blaze turned her enormous head, surveying the landscape. Not too far away, she could see her old enemy, Mr. X. He was running down a nearby street, trying to flee. She watched him run with a feeling of amused satisfaction. Why not let him think he can escape me for a few moments? She chuckled to herself, the vibration levelling mountains and laying waste to entire regions in the distance, the landscape around the fleeing man cracking and peeling apart. Down on the ground, X was running on an extremely unstable surface, with lava exploding up from the ground as the crust of the earth itself struggled with Blaze’s mere presence. She had become so powerful that reality itself seemed to be straining. Cars raced about frantically and without direction, crashing. She came over the top of a hill, and saw the metropolitan area, saw thousands of people running through the streets as buildings collapsed all around them. Fire, explosions, chaos. The sky was filled with thick black clouds that surged with red lightning. A horrendous hurricane swirled, and grew stronger. Bracing himself to the spot, shielding his eyes from the raging conditions, Mr. X struggled to breathe, and collapsed to the ground. He managed to turn himself around then, to take a look at Blaze on the horizon behind him – rising up in the midst of a radiating, raging storm of absolute chaos. Tears scorched his face. At that moment, he ceased to exist. Blaze screamed with maniacal rage. She was unstoppable. “The universe is mine to command!” she roared. “To control!” She revelled in her aura, focusing her mind, riding the crest of the inner shockwave, and felt, in that instant, that everything in the universe was interconnected, and that she was one with the universe. She felt the power of a trillion supernovae coursing through her veins. RRRRAAAAAaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!

***

Blaze woke up screaming. She gasped for air, taking quick deep breaths, her heart racing. Jesus Christ! she thought. What a fucked up dream! Holy Shit! Her breathing settled as she became more aware of the real world around her. She was in her hotel room. They’d rescued General Petrov and made it to Washington D.C. This was the Crowne Plaza, a hotel that Blaze, Zan and Skate had checked into while the others went with Petrov to the White House. The Robot General was already there, and according to some news reports they’d heard on their way into the country, he was going to be giving a speech to the world’s media very soon, regarding his kidnapping. After using her Fireball to destroy the X-Robots, Blaze had been severely weakened physically and emotionally. On the helicopter she’d told them all about what Shiva had said, and Axel had told her to sit this one out, along with Zan, who didn’t want to make a public appearance for obvious reasons, and Skate, who was just plain shaken up by the whole thing. Only Axel, Adam and Max had been strong enough to continue going. She hoped they had made good progress. She massaged her forehead with her hands, still feeling the aftersensation of the dream, trying to pull herself together mentally. The dream had left her feeling a

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little disturbed, and she felt the need to talk about it with someone. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back the covers and stepped out of bed, dressing herself quickly. Sighing, she took a stick of chewing gum from the bedside cabinet and stuffed it in her mouth, then went to find Dr. Zan.

***

Blaze knocked on the door to Room 302. “Come in,” Zan called. She opened the door and went in. The room was identical to hers, but Zan had not been sleeping. The bed was untouched. Instead, he was standing in the corner, facing the window, silently recharging his systems. He turned to face her as she closed the door and approached. “Ah. Miss Fielding. What can I do for you?” “I just wanted to talk to you,” Blaze muttered. “I…I’ve just had a really disturbing dream. I think it’s related to the changes going on in my body…” Zan nodded and gestured to a chair. “Please, sit down. Tell me about this dream.” Blaze sat. She didn’t look into his eyes as she spoke. Instead, she stared out of the window, avoiding his gaze. “Shiva came to me. He offered to complete the genetic experiment once and for all, wipe my mind and unlock my full potential. Then we would rule the world together, as the new masters of the Syndicate. I was attracted to his offer…I wanted him to do it…” She shook her head and took a deep breath, slightly embarrassed. “And then we were having sex. It was…er…good, really good sex.” She cleared her throat. “We were going to seed a new Master Race. Afterwards, I had the power of a God, and I used that power to destroy Mr. X and control the entire universe!” She turned her head to look at Zan. He was watching her thoughtfully, nodding his head. “Interesting,” Zan said. “and understandable when you consider just how much stress you’ve been put through these last few days. You’ve had to take in a lot of new information, with your life hanging in the balance and the fate of the world on your shoulders. I wouldn’t worry about it too much…it’s your subconscious mind trying to sort through all the information and make sense of it. You’re still in shock. Fear of what is happening to you, as well as various other psychological factors, has manifested itself into a dream. That’s all. It is our actions in this world that we must be judged by, not our dreams.” Blaze pondered his words for a moment, then took another deep breath and smiled. “You’re right,” she nodded. “Thankyou, Dr. Zan, I appreciate your wisdom. I think I’m starting to feel better already.” “You’re welcome,” Zan told her. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss with me?” Blaze licked her lips. A thousand questions spilled into her mind. “Yes, actually. Dr. Zan, I was hoping you could tell me more about Project Y itself.” Zan frowned. “I’m afraid I know little more than I’ve already told you - I never had full clearance.” “Tell me anyway,” Blaze insisted.

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Zan nodded. “Very well. I was working on ‘Phase one’ of Project Y, which was an experimental phase designed to test the merging of organism and machine. Generally, the aim was to add to and enhance the abilities of the organism by using advanced technology. Unfortunately, the Syndicate used me as the test subject.” “Right,” Blaze said. “But what was ‘Phase two’ of Project Y? How was the project going to advance?” “The second phase was basically going to be a perfect being – a perfect synthesis of organism and machine that allowed for unparalleled capacity both mentally and physically. Sadly, Dr. Dahm was pretty vague when he described it to me. I was converted into a cyborg and cut from the team before work started on that second phase, so that’s all I know about it. If you wanted to find out more, you’d have to ask Dr. Dahm himself.” Blaze raised an eyebrow. “Believe me, I will.” Suddenly, the door burst open, and Skate charged in, an excited grin on his face. “Zan! Blaze!” he yelled. “What is it, Skate?” Blaze asked. “It…it…you’re not going to believe this!” he said. “The White House! The General! It’s all over CNN! Axel…Adam…Max …come on, you have to see it!”

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11 The White House

The US Capitol Building gleamed in the light from the midday sun. It was a white painted, neoclassical sandstone mansion located at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, in Washington, D.C, and served as the office for the President of the United States. A sound stage had been set up on the north side of the White House lawn, and a herd of media correspondents, TV reporters and journalists were preparing for General Petrov’s imminent address, what they expected to be no less than a declaration of war on the country of Lima. It was a bright, sunny day with very little cloud cover, and this was going to be a big story. Kathy McNeil opened the passenger door of the CNN news van and climbed out, as her camera crew set up light fixtures and sound equipment on the ground outside. Somehow she managed to drop her keys into her cup of coffee on the way out the door. There was a muted ting as they hit the bottom, and as she paused in midstride, staring in disbelief at the steaming ceramic mug, the thick stack of files she carried under her other arm slid smoothly to the ground. Paper clips and sticky notes scattered across the grass. “Ah, shit.” She checked her watch as she turned back toward the van, cup in hand. President Hayes had called the press conference for 12:30pm sharp, which meant there was about nine minutes left before it would begin. The first full disclosure since General Petrov was kidnapped at the International Police Summit in Paris – hell, the first real press conference she’d been to – and she was going to be late. Muttering darkly, she hurried to the van, feeling tense and angry with herself for not getting ready earlier. It was a big story, the goddamn biggest story she could have ever hoped for. The office of the President had claimed that Lima terrorists were responsible for the kidnapping of General Petrov, yet he had returned unharmed, within the last twelve hours, and was going to be giving a public address regarding his experience, citing a matter of ‘international urgency’. She had picked up her copy of the press release right after breakfast and spent all morning digging through reports, searching for something that the press release hadn’t mentioned, and feeling more and more frustrated as time slipped past and she’d failed to come up with anything concrete. She dumped the mug and scooped up the warm, wet keys, wiping them against her trousers. She crouched down to gather the files she’d dropped, then fumbled them back into their folder, breathing deeply. The scent of freshly cut grass was heavy in the sun-warmed air. She got to her feet and turned to look at the stage, where technicians were going through final sound checks. It wouldn’t be long now. “Bob,” she called. “Bob!” An overweight man of thirty appeared from somewhere behind the van, chewing a donut. He had a pair of earphones around his neck, and he was dressed in

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blue jeans, a large, white T-Shirt with the words “Eat Me” in large red letters, and a baseball cap. “What’s up, Kath?” he asked. “Have you got that damn camera set up yet?” she yelled. “We go live in five minutes.” “Oh, don’t worry about that,” Bob answered. “It’s all done. What about you? Are you ready yet?” She nodded, and went to check her reflection in the van’s wing mirror. She smiled, and the reflection smiled back. “Ready for action,” she said. “I just hope this is all worth the effort.” Five minutes later, the crowd went hushed and cameras rolled, as US President John Hayes was introduced by his aide. The President, a kindly man in his fifties, stepped up onto the stage and went to the microphone, adjusting its position slightly away from his mouth. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” the President said. “As you may be aware, General Ivan Petrov, the highest ranking member of our Armed Forces, was kidnapped three days ago by Lima terrorists. Soon after, there was a terrorist bombing in Wood Oak City, killing many Americans. I can now confirm that this attack was indeed perpetrated by the same group, in an act of desperation, by those who would seek to destroy the American way of life, and its people. Twelve hours ago, the Lima terrorists released General Petrov and returned him to us with their demands. General Petrov was unharmed during his capture, and comes before you today to let the world know about this new threat posed to international security. General?” The President turned and gestured to General Petrov. Ivan Petrov rose from his seat behind the podium. He gave the President a subtle pat-on-the-back as he went past, and walked to the microphone in order to address the crowd. He cleared his throat and began to speak. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I have a grave announcement to make. The country of Lima has declared war against the western world. They want to exterminate us.” There were shocked gasps and muffled conversation from the crowd. Kathy McNeil listened, surprised at what she was hearing. Oh, boy. “The city of Wood Oak was the first victim in a campaign that -” Petrov continued, but was cut off suddenly as a voice boomed out from a loudspeaker, cutting him off mid-sentence. “STOP THAT MAN!” The voice called. Kathy McNeil squinted her eyes, trying to see who was speaking over the hustle and bustle of the other media correspondents. The crowd’s muffled dialogue turned to shouting; there was a lot of commotion going on, causing a major disruption. “STOP THAT MAN!” The voice called again. “THE GENERAL IS A FRAUD!” Kathy slapped Bob over the back of the head. “Bob!” she hissed. “Get the camera! Quickly, get the camera! Over here!” Bob looked at her and frowned. She turned her back to him and disappeared into the whirling crowd. He cursed silently to himself and picked up the video camera by its tripod, hurrying after her. When he found her again, he asked, “What’s going on?” “Over there!” Kathy pointed. Bob’s gaze travelled along her arm and in the direction she was pointing. And then he saw it.

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Three men were striding through the crowd, carrying guns. Two of them he didn’t recognise, a large muscular man with black hair, and a blonde-haired guy, but the third was…was…General Petrov? “What the hell?” Bob muttered. “Two General Petrovs?” He had no idea what was going on, so he just pointed the camera and let it record everything. “THE GENERAL IS A FRAUD!” The voice repeated. “A ROBOT!” The General Petrov on stage said nothing, watching silently as the group of three men approached through the crowd. The President of the United States went to the stage, saying “What is the meaning of this interruption? What’s going on here? General?” Standing next to the US President, the General’s robot double burst into flame, a sound of insane laughter erupting from within. The President fell back, stunned. The flames burned away clothing and flesh, leaving the robot General’s upper body completely exposed: metallic alloy, wires, components. The crowd of reporters and correspondents roared in confusion and terror. Then the air was lit up with hundreds of flashes as hundreds of cameras took hundreds of photos. “Mr. President!” shouted a secret service agent from behind the stage. The black-suited bodyguard leapt up and moved to protect him, but stumbled back as the robot general dashed across the stage and sent its fist hurling through his chest. There was a snap of ribs and a liquid gurgle, and the man was silent, dead instantly. The robot General turned to face President Hayes, raising its fists. “No!” The President shouted. There was a crack of gunfire. The robot General took the full force of the impact, its metallic torso shredding and popping under the hail of bullets. It stood there and absorbed the fire for a moment, then made a strange humming sound and collapsed to the stage. The crowd went wild, screaming, chaos and confusion rampant. The President stared in horror for a moment at the effigy laying at his feet – something that, a few moments ago, he had thought was one of his advisors. It had been such an uncanny resemblance! He turned his head, squinting, and saw the other General Petrov, the real one, stepping up onto the stage, accompanied by another two men he didn’t recognise. “Mr. President,” General Petrov said. “Sir, don’t be alarmed. This situation is under control.” “Ivan, what in God’s name is happening here?” the President demanded. “Who’s firing weapons? And where the hell did this android come from?” “Sir, it’s Adam Hunter of the LAPD firing weapons. He’s got you covered no need to worry. As for this robot, it’s all been an elaborate deception,” Petrov told him. “instigated by a criminal organisation known as the “Syndicate”. These people…” he gestured to Axel and Max, “…have saved my life and brought me here to stop this war before it starts. We arrived just in time. If you have no objection, sir, I’ll explain everything right here, to the American people.” President Hayes nodded, seemingly still shaken up. “Go ahead.” Max helped the President off stage as Axel and Petrov went to the microphone to address the crowd. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” Petrov shouted. “Please! Quiet down! I can explain everything, if you will lend me your ears.” Deep in the crowd, Kathy McNeil struggled to hear what the General was saying over the commotion. “Shhhhhh!” she hissed. “Bob, are you getting this?”

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Behind her, the cameraman nodded. “Definitely.” After a few moments, the crowd seemed to calm down, and everyone stood in an expectant hush, curious to see what the General had to say. General Petrov cleared his throat. “Ladies and Gentlemen, this…this fraud…” he gestured to the droid General that was now crumpled and broken on the floor of the stage, “…was a state-of-the-art android replica, created by an international criminal Syndicate hell-bent on starting a nuclear war between the United States and the country of Lima!” He paused, and there was some hushed murmuring from the crowd. More cameras flashed. “In Paris three days ago,” he continued, “I was kidnapped by Syndicate agents and taken back to a base they had established in Reykjavík, Iceland. There, they extracted genetic tissue samples from my body and created this robot double. Their goal was to secretly replace me with this robot, controlled remotely by the Syndicate’s leader, in order to stir up a nuclear war! I refer of course, to the recent nuclear attack in Wood Oak City. I tell you now – the middle-eastern country of Lima had nothing to do with this attack – the same Syndicate that kidnapped me was responsible for the bomb too! If not for the brave efforts of a group of Americans fighting against this Syndicate…” he put a hand on Axel’s shoulder, “…I would be dead, and the Syndicate would have fooled you all.” Axel swallowed, his eyes leaping across the crowd before him as he bent closer to the microphone. Cameras flashed. He cleared his throat and spoke. “My name is Axel Stone. Until very recently I held the rank of Captain in the Los Angeles Police Department. Unfortunately, it came to my attention that much of the Police Force in LA, including Chief O’Hara, had fallen under the influence of the Syndicate, so me and my partner, Blaze Fielding, quit the force in order to tackle this Syndicate head on, with the help of some friends. The Syndicate is ruled by a former Senator in the US government, George Xetheus, also known as Mr. X. He plans to take over the world by replacing key government officials in the same way that he replaced the General here, today!” The crowd was chattering again. Behind them, the President stepped forward. “I thought Xetheus was dead…thankyou, gentlemen,” he smiled, “you’ve done your country a great service by bringing this to our attention. We can speak more about this situation in private. In the meantime…” the President bent lower and spoke into the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, rest assured that we will be doing all we can to bring this criminal Syndicate to justice. Now, if you will excuse me, I must speak to my advisors immediately.” Kathy McNeil cursed to herself, and watched as President Hayes, General Petrov, Axel Stone and Max Hatchett filed off the stage. Damn, she thought. I had so many questions, too! She rested her right hand on her clipboard, staring at the notes she’d taken swearing to herself that whatever it took, she was going to get to the bottom of this. This was big. *** Axel, Max and Adam were invited to an immediate priority meeting with General Petrov and President Hayes in the Oval Office. They sat in comfortable chairs at the President’s desk. The office had three large south-facing windows behind the President’s desk and a fireplace at the north end of the room. The room had four

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doors: the eastern door opened to the Rose Garden; the western door led to the President’s private study; the northwest door opened directly onto the main body of the West Wing; and the northeast door opened to a personal secretary’s office. Axel’s eyes scanned the room. Never once thought I’d be in here. “Gentlemen,” the President started. “This is a very dangerous situation. I have just been in a telephone conversation with the head of the Lima government. I have personally apologised to him for the misunderstanding, and he accepts the apology on the grounds that we take out the Syndicate responsible at the source.” “That would be Mr. X,” Axel said. “Mr. X,” President Hayes nodded and leaned back in his seat. “Yes. Former Senator. I knew the man… I actually thought he was dead…killed in an explosion two years ago! He was thick skinned, polite, if a little pig-headed, but I never once suspected he could do what he did…eugenics experiments, supersoldier robots…so many twisted things behind our backs. He’s still alive then?” Adam leaned forward. “Yes, he is, and these ‘twisted things’ are still going on. Right now Mr. X wants to take over the world, and after that little scene outside, I think he’s going to be really pissed off. He’s already destroyed a city, and has more nucelar bombs at his disposal. He’s working on a top secret project codenamed Project Y. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. From what I can figure out we can expect some kind of advanced killing-machine cyborg, very tough to kill. Whatever the case, Mr. X must be stopped once and for all.” “Agreed,” Petrov barked. “The Syndicate has bases all over the world,” Axel said. “We destroyed the Research Facility off the coast of Los Angeles two years ago, and mistakenly thought that it was their main HQ. But now we’ve seen a science outpost in Rekyavik, Iceland, and heard of other bases in England, Germany, Iraq, South Africa, Russia, China, Hong Kong and Thailand, from files we downloaded from their computers. We have learned that X has operatives in foreign governments too, as well as our own. He is slowly building his influence all over the planet.” “Son of a bitch,” the President said. He rested his chin in one hand, elbow on the desk. “Well, we’ve got to take him out. Where is he?” “Los Angeles, we think,” said Max. “The vast majority of Syndicate employees and punks hang out in that city, and it was where Mr. X chose to locate his research facility, as well as the Inner Sanctum building. Chances are the Syndicate Stronghold is located nearby.” General Petrov stood. “Mr. President,” he said, “I’ve seen these people in action. They’re the best ones for this job. May I recommend that they be allowed to return to Los Angeles immediately to root out Mr. X, so that we can send in ground troops.” President Hayes thought it over, then nodded briskly. “Yes, maybe that’s for the best.” He turned to Axel. “You’re not done yet!” Axel grinned. “I have to ask you to leave,” the President said, “to go back to the city of LA and find the Syndicate Stronghold before X launches any more nuclear weapons! When you find Mr. X, we’ll send in ground troops to finish the job. Thanks for everything you’ve done to bring all this to my attention. I can deal with the political loose ends after you’re gone…now get moving!” “Yes, Mr. President,” Axel said, and took a deep breath. The three of them stood, exchanged handshakes with the President and General, then turned to leave.

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*** A White House attendant escorted them to the main gate. Adam thanked him for his assistance and they walked through, getting in a stretch limo that was waiting for them. “To the Crowne Plaza,” Axel said to the driver. The driver nodded, silently pushing the vehicle into gear, moving off away from the Capitol Building. In the rear compartment, Axel and Max sat facing the driver, whilst Adam was seated opposite them. They were silent for a moment, each contemplating their own thoughts, gazing out the windows as Washington DC sped past, a blur of trees and sidewalk. They passed into a clear area and the Washington Monument was visible, the afternoon sun glaring behind it. “We’re making good progress,” Adam said, breaking the silence. “I think we did a good job back there.” Max nodded. “It was a close call.” He looked at Axel, seeking approval. “Yeah, great job, guys, but like the President said, it’s not over yet,” Axel reminded them. “Once we get back to the hotel we can reunite with Zan, Blaze and Skate. From there, we can decide on the best course of action for our next move.” Max nodded his agreement. “I could use some rest first though, before we go back to the city. I haven’t had much sleep.” Axel looked at him and smiled. “We’re all highly strung, Max. We all need some time. We’ll stay at the hotel tonight, freshen up and get ourselves ready. Then, tomorrow, we move in on X.”

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12 Shiva’s Ruminations

“Access Granted.” Leon Shiva felt a wave of anxiety as he passed through the door into the Command Facility, the most secure room in the Syndicate Stronghold. He kept his head low, avoiding the gazes of engineers and tech workers who watched him pass. He swallowed dryly, blinking back pain that surged from his wounded shoulder. The gunshot wounds had been treated quickly, but the pain still lingered. He approached two sentry robots stationed either side of a doorway leading into the stasis area, where Mr. X’s central nervous system was being kept alive. They were large, bipedal, mounted with next-generation miniguns, and for a moment Shiva expected them to open fire on him. He had failed Mr. X, something that X had ordered him not to do again, and thanks to that failure, the Syndicate’s cover was now blown. Shiva expected no less than death as a penalty. Things were not going according to plan. He took a deep breath as the sentry robots let him pass. He walked across the polished floor of the stasis area and approached X’s brain, suspended in the medical vat as it was. “Sir,” Shiva said, lowering his gaze. X’s voice boomed out of a hidden loudspeaker: “Leon! I was wondering when you were going to show your wretched face! Tell me, how did you manage to fail me again so utterly? Our plot to replace General Petrov has backfired, and the world has been alerted to our presence. They’re looking for us.” Shiva frowned, and cleared his throat. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “I…” “Speak up, Shiva,” X demanded. “Tell me what happened. Tell me how this fucking mess started, and why I shouldn’t have you killed for your absolute incompetence!” “Sir, we captured Blaze Fielding, just as you asked,” Shiva told him, “but the other members of her team somehow tracked her, and stormed the Inner Sanctum to rescue her, killing a lot of good people in the process. We think they found the General’s location through the computer system.” “Didn’t you try to stop them? I told you to kill them!” “Of course I did! But I was incapacitated. I was outnumbered and outgunned, taken by surprise…” “Enough of your excuses!” X roared. “You’ve failed and that’s all there is to it! Now I must reassess my plans, thanks to you. Ordinarily I would have you executed for this outrage, but since our cover’s blown, I’m going to need your help in the defence of this facility. You’re more useful to me alive than dead, at least for now.” “I understand, sir,” Shiva whispered. Inside, he felt angry, pissed off with the way he was being treated, the complete lack of empathy from X. The fight in the Inner Sanctum building had cost Electra her life…had cost many Syndicate personnel

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their lives, and very nearly Shiva too – but X didn’t give a shit. All he cared about was himself. Shiva screwed his face up. He had respected Mr. X once. Back when his expectations were a little more realistic, and his people really meant something to him. But two years ago, on the Island Research Facility, he had seen Mr. X killed with his own eyes, actually watched as an X-Robot tore his head off. He had watched X die. Since being kept alive and used for the second phase of Project Y by Dr. Dahm, X had become increasingly delusional and his thirst for power was more important to him now than the revolution itself. The way Shiva saw it, he was now the rightful leader of this Syndicate. Mr. X had died a warrior’s death that day, and the monstrosity that existed before him now was only an insane shadow of that man, obsessed with its own immortality. It was controlling his Syndicate and treating him like shit! This was not the way it was supposed to be! X chuckled. “Things aren’t going the way we planned, eh, Shiva?” Shiva looked up at the brain then, recognising a hint of the man he had once respected. Then he remembered that that man was dead. He blinked and his eyes went back to the floor. “No, sir.” “I must admit, the current situation is most unfortunate,” X said. “We’ll need to defend this base against invasion, and soon. They’ll send in the air force and marines first, then infantry. But don’t worry. Not even the armed forces will be able to stop us… “ Shiva sighed. “Sir, we should evacuate this Stronghold immediately. The Syndicate needs to regroup, reevaluate the situation…since the incident in Washington we need to…” “No! We’re going to hold the fort. This is war!” X boomed, his voice thundering around the cavernous room. “Sir, evacuation is -” “Project Y is the key to my victory, Leon! Even if they make it this far, they can never hope to defeat me! I will finally unleash my greatest weapon!” Shiva blinked, growing nervous. X couldn’t be serious! “It’s too soon…” he said, “sir, we…we still haven’t had sufficient time to test the armour, let alone deploy it for combat…surely the nuclear weapons will be a better way of deterring…” “Nonsense,” X interrupted. “Now go and make the arrangements. Dismissed.” Shiva saluted. He clenched his jaw, gave X a pissed-off look, then turned and stormed away. *** As Shiva walked the corridors of the Syndicate Stronghold, he told himself that everything was okay, that everything would work out all right in the end. Mr. X wasn’t stupid; he wouldn’t have got where he is today if he was…but just the same, Shiva couldn’t shake the feeling that Mr. X had finally lost whatever marbles he had left in that disembodied brain of his. The world had been alerted to the Syndicate’s presence now, and the wisest course of action would have been to abandon the Stronghold and leave the country before the situation could get any worse…but X had been adamant that they would hold the fort with Project Y… Shiva would play along,

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for now. But if at any time, it became clear that defeat was a distinct possibility…well, Shiva had other plans. He turned a corner and came to his private quarters. The retinal scanner performed its sweep of his eye, then chimed, the door whispering open. He went in and collapsed on his bunk heavily. Things were seriously fucked up here. Not only had he failed to stop Blaze Fielding and her cohorts, but Electra had been killed! His Electra! The Electra that would have ruled at his side when he finally took his rightful place as ruler of the Syndicate… Shiva closed his eyes and smiled, picturing Electra’s pretty face in his mind. He remembered all the sweet nothings she had whispered in his ear after they’d first made love….then the smile vanished. His dream – of seizing control and starting anew – was crumbling before his eyes. Electra was dead, and now he was all alone… “Noooo!” he screamed and leapt up, twisting his body, sending his fist slamming down into the mattress. It creaked and bounced with the impact. Shiva stood beside the bunk, fuming. Blaze Fielding will pay for this, he thought. She has interfered with my affairs for the last time!

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13 Los Angeles, CA 36 Hours Later

“Go, go, go!” Axel shouted, and Adam hit the gas, whipping the van around a tight corner as gunfire thundered through the warm California night. Adam had spotted the two unmarked black sedans only a moment before, which had barely given the team enough time to arm themselves. Whoever was on their ass – the Syndicate or the LAPD – it didn’t matter, it was all Mr. X – “Get us lost, Adam!” Axel called, somehow managing to sound cool and controlled even as bullets riddled the back of the van. Adam felt scattered, his thoughts racing and jumbled. It had been too long since he had been in a car chase…he was good, but this was a van! Blam! Blam! Blam! Someone in the back of the van was returning fire, shooting out of the open back window. The nine-millimeter explosions in the tight space were as loud as the voice of an irate god, pounding at Adam’s ears and making it even harder to focus. Ten more goddamn minutes. Ten minutes from the airstrip, where the chartered flight would be waiting. It was like a bad joke – hours of hiding, waiting, not taking any risks, and then getting tagged on the way out of the damn city. Adam hung on to the wheel as they shot down 6th Street, the van too heavy to outmanoeuvre the sedans. Even without five people, a cyborg and a shitload of artillery, the bulky vehicle wasn’t exactly a powerhouse. Axel had rented it because it was so nondescript, so unlikely to be noticed, and they were paying for it – if they managed to shake their pursuers, it’d be a small miracle. Their only chance was to try to find some traffic, play some dodge. It was dangerous, but so was getting run off the road and shot to death. “Clip!” Zan shouted, and Adam shot a look in the rearview, saw him crouched at the back window next to Axel. They’d taken out the back seats for the trip to the airstrip, all the more room for weapons – but that also meant no seatbelts; take a corner too fast and bodies would be flying– Blam! Blam! Two more blasts from the sedan assholes, maybe from a .38. Adam gave the shuddering van a little more pedal as Zan returned fire with a ninemillimeter. Due to his computer-enhanced senses, Dr. Zan was their best shot; Axel probably had him trying to shoot out the tyres. One of the others tossed Zan a clip, Adam didn’t have time to see which one as he jerked the wheel right, heading for downtown. With a smoking squeal of rubber on asphalt, the van teetered around a corner, heading east. The airstrip was west, but they had to ditch these goons first. There wasn’t room on the charter for all of them… Suddenly, Adam saw barricades looming in front of them, the roadwork sign propped next to the blocked street. He saw the white circle of a man’s face holding a sign that said “Slow,” the man dropping the sign and diving for cover -

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- and it would’ve been funny except they were doing eighty and had maybe three seconds before they hit. “Hang on!” Adam screamed, and Blaze pushed her legs against the van wall, saw the others grabbing at handles and ledges – - and the van was screeching, jerking, and bucking like a wild horse, spinning sideways - and Blaze actually felt open space beneath the right side of the van as her body was compressed to the left, the back of her neck crunching painfully against the tyre well. Ouch! Axel shouted something but Blaze didn’t hear it over the squealing brakes, didn’t understand until Axel dove to the right, Skate scrambling right next to him – - and wham, the van dropped back to the ground with a terrible bounce and Adam seemed to have it under control again – but there was still the piercing screech of locked brakes coming from CRASH! The explosion of metal and shattering glass behind them was so close that Blaze’s heart skipped a beat. She turned, looked out the back with the others and saw that one of the cars had barrelled into a roadwork barricade – a barricade they’d probably come within a second or two of crashing into themselves. She caught just a glimpse of a crumpled hood, of broken windows and a stream of oily smoke, and then the second sedan was blocking her view, shrieking around the corner and continuing the chase. “Sorry about that,” Adam called back to them, sounding anything but; he seemed wired with adrenaline-pumped glee. Since first meeting Adam Hunter about two years earlier after Axel had sprung her out of that hospital, she’d discovered that Adam would make jokes about anything. It was simultaneously his most endearing and most annoying trait. “Everyone alright?” Axel asked, and Blaze nodded, saw Skate do the same. “Took a whack but I’m okay,” Max said, rubbing his arm with a pained expression. “But I don’t think -” BAM! Whatever Max didn’t think was cut off by a powerful blast that slammed into the back of the van. Still most of a block away, the sedan’s passenger had fired a shotgun at them; a few inches higher and the pellets would have come in through the window. “Adam, change of plans,” Axel called as the van swerved, his cool, authoritative voice rising over the noise of the screaming engines. “We’re in their sights -” Before he could finish, Adam took a hard left. Skate fell backwards, nearly crashing into Blaze. The van was now headed down a quiet suburban street. “Hold on to your butts,” Adam called over his shoulder. Chill night air whipped through the van, dark houses flying by as Adam picked up speed. Zan, Axel and Max were reloading, crouched behind the metal halfdoor. Blaze exchanged a look with Skate, who looked as unhappy about the situation as she felt. Skate was only nineteen years old…still a kid, and he’d seen enough carnage in the last few days to last a lifetime. He was also the only person in the van who hadn’t had any real training… Blaze shuddered involuntarily as Adam took a hard right, veering wide around a parked truck, the sedan gaining ground

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BAM! Another shotgun blast from behind, but it went wide and high. This time… “Change of plans,” Axel said, his voice calming, like the voice of reason and logic in the midst of chaos. “Everyone brace for an impact. Adam, just past your next turn, bring us to a stop. Hit and run, alright?” He brought his knees up, wedging his feet against the van’s wall. “They want us so badly, let them have us.” Blaze slid over and pushed her feet against the back of the passenger seat, knees bent and head down. Axel sidled back so that his head was closer to hers. They locked gazes and Axel smiled faintly. “This is nothing,” he said, and in spite of her fear, Blaze found herself smiling back at him. After everything they’d been through, crazed supersoldier robots, their extremely narrow escape from explosive death on X’s island research facility – a simple car wreck was like a Sunday picnic. Yeah, just keep telling yourself that, her mind whispered, and then she didn’t think anything at all, because the van was swerving around a corner and Adam was pumping the brakes and they were about to get hit by about a ton and a half of fast moving metal and glass.

Axel inhaled and exhaled deeply, relaxing his muscles as best he could, the squeal of brakes coming up fast from behind – - and wham, violent motion, a sense of incredible vibration, a second that seemed to stretch for an endless and silent eternity - and the noise coming immediately after – breaking glass and the sound of a tin can being crushed amplified a million times. Axel was jerked forward and back, heard Blaze emit a strangled gasp – - and it was over, and Adam was already hitting the gas as Axel rolled to his knees, raising his pistol. He shot a look out the back and saw that the sedan was motionless, skewed across the dark street, the front grill and headlights all smashed to hell. The slumped, shadowy figures behind the spidered glass were as still as the ruined car. Not that we fared much better… The cheap green van he’d rented specifically for their ride to the airfield no longer had a bumper, tail lights, or a rear license plate. The door was a warped and crunched up mass of useless metal. No great loss. It wasn’t as though they’d planned on taking it to the Nevada Desert – the location of X’s Syndicate Stronghold. The important thing was that they were alive – and that – for the moment at least – they’d managed to avoid the infinitely long arm of Mr. X’s wrath. As they sped away from the wrecked car, Axel turned and regarded the others, reflexively putting a hand out to help Blaze up, and called to Adam that they should circle back toward their original destination, staying away from major streets. A bad break that they’d been spotted just as they were leaving – but not all that surprising. The Syndicate was no doubt on full alert after the incident in Washington. It had only been a matter of time. “Nice trick, Axel,” Zan said. “I’ll have to remember that next time I get chased by Syndicate goons.”

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Axel nodded silently, glancing around at the others before staring out the back, watching the homes and buildings slip past in the cold dark. Everyone seemed a bit subdued, always the aftermath of an adrenaline rush. He looked at Zan. “If Max’s contact can fly us to the Syndicate base just as he promised, then you won’t ever have to worry about being chased by the Syndicate again…we’re going to finish it, once and for all!” “Heads up, kids,” Adam called from the front, and Axel looked away from Zan’s unsmiling face, looked out to see they were already at the airfield. Whatever Mr. X was really up to, they’d find out soon enough.

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14 Nevada Desert

Blaze strapped herself into the tiny seat of the tiny plane and looked out the window, wishing that Axel had chartered a jet. A nice, big jet. From where she sat, she could see the propellers on the wing of the aircraft – propellers, like on a kid’s toy. “Just so you know, this is the kind of plane that’s always killing rock stars and the like. Just as they make it off the ground, a big gust of wind knocks them right back down.” Blaze looked up to see Max’s grinning face; he was hanging over the seats in front of her, his massive arms folded across the headrests. He probably needed two seats to himself; Max wasn’t just big, he was huge, two hundred forty pounds of muscle packed into his six-foot frame. “We’ll be fucking lucky to get off at all, dragging your fat ass up there,” Blaze shot back. Max grinned wider, the deep brown of his skin crinkling. The plane started to rumble all around them, the engine whining up into a deep hum that made Blaze grit her teeth. “Where’s Axel?” she asked, and Max shrugged. “Talking to the pilot. He’s a friend of a friend of a contact I have in imports and exports. Not many people willing to smuggle us into the Syndicate Stronghold, I guess…” Axel appeared at the front of the cabin, stepping through the curtained area that led to the cockpit, and Max broke off, their collective attention turning toward him. “It seems that we’re ready to go,” Axel said. “Our pilot, Captain Evans, has assured me that all systems are fully functional and we’ll be taking off in just a moment. It will take thirty minutes to reach the Stronghold’s co-ordinates. We’ll touch down in the desert…” His voice trailed off, and he looked as if there was something else to say but wasn’t sure what it was. It was a look that Blaze had seen often enough in the past few days, a kind of uneasy uncertainty. Axel had decided not to say anything at all. He nodded briskly and then walked back to join them, pausing next to Blaze’s seat. “Do you need some company?” She could see that he was trying to be supportive – and she could also see that he was tired. He’d been working hard, and needed a break. “Nah, I’m okay,” she said, smiling up at him, “and I’ve always got Max to talk me through it.” “You know it,” Max called loudly, and Axel nodded, giving her shoulder a light squeeze before moving to the seats behind her. The engine sound got louder, higher, and with a stuttering jerk, the plane started to move forward. Blaze clutched the arm rests on either side and closed her eyes.

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Their next stop would be the Syndicate Stronghold. They were on their way now, no turning back. *** There was a half-moon in the clear night sky, casting a pallid blue light across the vast, open stretch of desert. Blaze stood beside the plane’s cargo hold, checking weapons and loading clips. The plan was simple. Land the plane a half mile or so from the Stronghold’s co-ordinates, load up with every weapon they had, and slip into the compound as quietly as they could manage… “The Syndicate is no doubt expecting us, of course,” Axel had said, “so we can expect heavy resistance. Our mission objective is to locate Mr. X. Then we call in the cavalry, and blow the son-of-a-bitch back to hell.” Their planning session at the hotel in Washington had made it sound easy enough – and with as little information as they had, the questions had been few. At least they were going in well armed. They each had an M-16 A1 automatic rifle, apart from Zan, who had opted to go with a .44 Magnum. In case we have to blow up some bizarre, murderous cyborg – or a hundred of them… Blaze cocked the gun. She was as ready as she’d ever be. *** Axel took the lead, forcing all negative thoughts out of his mind as they struck out across the desert for where the Syndicate Stronghold would be. It was dangerous; they were going in with less than a day’s planning, no layout, no idea of what kind of security they’d be facing. He led them over a rising and paused at the top. There. A thickening of shadow, straight ahead. Axel held up his hand, slowing the others as they moved closer, and he saw a dented metal roof reflecting moonlight. And then a fence, and then a handful of buildings, all of them dark and silent. Axel dropped into a walking crouch, motioning for the rest to follow suit, holding the automatic rifle tight against his chest. They crept closer, close enough to see the lonely group of tall one-story structures behind a low fence. Five, six buildings, no lights, no movement – a front, surely… “Underground,” Blaze whispered, and Axel nodded. Probably; they’d discussed several possibilities and it seemed the most likely. Even in the pale light he could see that the buildings were old, dusty and worn. There was a smallish structure in the front, five long, low buildings in a row behind it, all with sloping metal roofs. It was certainly big enough to be some kind of a testing ground, the larger buildings as big as aircraft carriers, but between the site’s placement – alone, out in the open in the middle of a desert – and the wear and tear, he’d guess underground. Good and bad. Good, because they should be able to get into the compound without much trouble; bad because God only knew what kind of surveillance system had been set up. They would have to go in fast. Axel turned, still in a crouch, and faced the team. “We’ll need to doubletime,” he said softly, “and stay low. We scale the fence, head for the structure closest to the front gate. We have to find the entry ASAP. Watch for cameras.”

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Nods all around, faces grim and set. Axel turned and started for the fence, head down, his muscles tight and jumping. Twenty meters, the air biting into his lungs, freezing the light sweat on his skin. Ten meters. Five, and he could see the “No Trespassing” signs posted on the fence, and as they reached the gate, Axel saw the sign telling them they were at the privately owned “Weather Monitoring and Survey #7.” He looked up and saw the rounded silhouettes of what had to be satellite dishes on two of the buildings, plus the multiple thin lines of antennae stretching up from one of them. Axel touched the fence with the barrel of the M-16, then with his hand. Nothing, and there was no barbed wire either, no sensor lines that he could see, no alarm trips. Obviously, no weather station would have those; trust the Syndicate to be so concise in their fronts. He slung the rifle over his shoulder, grabbed the thick wire and pulled himself up. It was only seven feet, he was at the top in five seconds, flipping himself over and jumping to the dusty ground inside the compound. Blaze was next, climbing quickly and easily, a lithe shadow in the dark. Axel reached up to help her, but she leapt nimbly to the ground next to him with hardly a stumble. She drew her weapon, and turned to cover the darkness as Axel looked back to the fence. Zan almost tripped off the top, but Axel managed to steady him, grabbing the older man’s metallic hand; once he was down, he nodded his thanks to Axel and turned to help Skate over. So far, so good… Axel scanned the shadows around them as Max landed at his feet. Finally, Adam scaled the outside, his heart pounding, all of his senses on high alert. There was no sound but the gentle clank of the fence, no movement in the blackness. Axel glanced back as Adam thumped to the cold and dusty ground, then nodded toward the front structure, the smaller one. Staying down, Axel started for the building, praying that if there were cameras watching them, there was no one watching the cameras.

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15 Syndicate Stronghold

Shiva stood in the security office, watching the monitors. Not long ago the surface cameras had picked up Blaze Fielding and her cohorts, sneaking into the base via the secret entrance beneath the topside manhole cover. Now, he could see them on cam 22, running down the service corridor on sublevel 3. He sighed. He knew this was going to happen. He knew they were going to come here… Blaze Fielding. The very name made him go cold and shudder. The renegade asset. The bitch. She’d been a thorn in his side for so long; he’d failed to kill her on numerous occasions, she’d caused the death of Electra, and on top of all that, she was maturing genetically. It was all going wrong! Fucking bitch! The images on the wall of monitors flickered in the dark room, casting a blue glow over Shiva’s face. There were twenty monitors in total, cycling through the five hundred or so cameras on the base. He turned his head to look at the next monitor, and saw that Blaze and her team were moving down to sublevel 4. So far, they’d managed to beat off all the thugs he’d had stationed on those top levels. Now, they were about to face one of the Syndicate’s most lethal bosses…Rocky Bear, former world heavyweight boxing champion. Shiva grinned, his eyes moving to cam 145. Bear was standing in position, guarding the closed pressure door that led into the engineering section. As soon as Blaze and the others came into view, he was charging at them, knocking Zan to the ground and launching his huge elbows at Max Hatchett’s head. Shiva watched Blaze leap into the attack with a judo combination, then get blown clear across the room by a thick, violent uppercut. Bear turned, and was knocked back by Axel Stone, the do-gooder ex-cop, who launched into an uppercut of his own. Meanwhile, Zan was getting to his feet. He glided towards Bear as soon as he saw him hit the floor. There was static, and the camera went dead. Shiva frowned. Zan must have used his electrical discharge attack. The counter-acting magnetic fields would have short-circuited the camera. He took a deep breath and turned, leaving the room through a side door. He’d have to confront these bastards and kill them, soon. Deep down, he knew it was inevitable; he knew that his thugs wouldn’t be able to stop them, nor the Pseries droids on sublevel 6. They were formidable adversaries…he’d give them that. He was certain he’d have to end up killing them himself, before they brought any more shit to his already fucked up plans. He would meet them on sublevel 7. ***

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“Thunder!” Max Hatchett charged, threw his hands down to the ground and flipped, bringing his feet forward. He hit the attacking thug in the head with the full force of his body weight. The thug yelped, his neck snapping. As he fell, Max got to his feet and turned to look at the others, a huge grin on his face. Is this the best Mr. X has to offer? he thought, watching as Adam performed a roundhouse kick, sweeping a Signal punk off his feet. So far, the battle through the Syndicate Stronghold had been relatively easy… …just a shitload of thugs and punks, a couple of Syndicate bosses, not much else. Guess the real challenge is yet to come… Another group of Signal punks rounded the corner just ahead – four of them – and started to move towards the team. Axel ran towards them and leapt into a flying kick. “AaaaAAA!” The kick knocked them all to the ground. Axel grabbed one of them and arched his body backward, throwing the punk across the room. The punk fell towards Blaze, who cracked her knee into his face. He slumped. Skate jumped in then, twisting into his corkscrew kick manoeuvre, driving his roller blades down into the skull of one of the other Signals. The skull cracked and split, spraying blood and brain tissue. The other two Signals started running. Zan easily glided up behind them, and killed them with a powerful discharge of electricity that reduced their bodies to smouldering ash. The corridor was then silent, apart from the team’s breathing and the ambient hum of the base machinery. They were on sublevel 6 according to the signs, and there were three pressure doors nearby, as well as an engineering station. Blaze was standing in a judo stance, her senses on high alert, heart racing. Suddenly, one of the pressure doors opened, and out stepped three small robots. “What the hell?” Max said, surprised. The robots looked like a cross between a small biped and a tank - 4-feet tall machines on robotic legs, sporting compressed laser rifles instead of arms, and a machinegun instead of a face. They used their powerful hydraulic legs to jump around the corridor, shooting thick red laser beams at them. Adam raised his assault rifle and opened fire, the rounds slamming into metal and circuitry. One of the robots went down. Blaze leapt across the room and twisted her athletic body so that her assault rifle fell into her hands from her shoulder. She found the handle, pulling the trigger, shredding and destroying the other two robots as she landed on her feet. The corridor was silent again. Blaze laughed, high on the adrenaline rush. “That was easy. For a moment there I thought we were facing Project Y robots.” Zan shook his head, examining the wreckage of one of the destroyed machines. “No, this is the P-series defence drone, or the P-DD for short. It was one of the very first projects I worked on during my time at RoboCy.” Blaze looked at the floor, slightly disappointed. She wasn’t looking forward to confronting Mr. X, and she was anxious to face whatever insane creation he was working on. She hated waiting, not knowing.

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Axel went to the engineering station. His eyes scanned the information on the monitor. “Looks like we’re getting close. According to these schematics, we’ll find Dr. Dahm’s laboratory on sublevel 7, and the Command Facility on sublevel 8.” Blaze raised her eyebrows. “Command Facility? I’m guessing that’s where we’ll find Mr. X.” Axel looked at her. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.” He stood there for a moment, taking one last look at the data onscreen, then moved to enter the door the machines had emerged from. “Come on, this way. There’s a service ladder through here that will lead us down to sublevel 7.” “Stay alert,” Zan said. “Security will no doubt increase as we move closer to X, and I am suspecting some sort of trap.” Axel looked at Zan. “Could we expect any less from Mr. X?” Zan shook his head. No; Mr. X was as sick and twisted as they came. They were almost certainly walking into a trap. They passed through the door. Blaze took a deep breath, trying to steady her heart rate, as they passed around a corner and came to the service ladder leading down to sublevel 7. They were close. So close now, and Blaze could feel the familiar sensation of her aura swelling lightly within her, growing with her anxiety. She swallowed, blinking sweat out of her vision. The ‘aura’ sensation came over her in waves, filling her with a primal urge to unleash her power. But…but…she shook her head… No…not yet…must…focus… She shuddered, then relaxed. The sensation instantly faded, and she found her head clearing the more she willed the sensation away. I’ll be goddamned! She smiled. I can control it! At last! She chuckled to herself and hurried towards Axel, who was stopped at the ladder, opening the hatch. Grinning coyly at him, she took his outstretched hand and stepped onto the ladder, grabbing the rungs, descending into the darkness. Homo Superior indeed! Time to see what she was capable of.

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16 Confrontations

As they strolled down the main corridor on sublevel 7, Blaze’s heart raced. She was pumped with adrenaline, her aura swirling inside of her. She felt like she had so much…potential energy. She could control her aura now, that much was certain; it no longer completely overwhelmed her when it became too intense. Now she could keep it bottled up, and only call upon it when she allowed herself to consciously. This was good news. After learning she’d been genetically-altered during her time at the hospital, Blaze had been worried that Shiva was right - that without some form of control, the aura would consume her and eventually destroy her. But now she could control it, the aura, and act on her conscious will instead of her anger, fear and negative emotions. She figured that once this was all over, she’d be able to incorporate these new abilities into her normal life, without any major risk to her sanity. At least, that was the idea… Axel took the lead, marching past signs that read: !WARNING! RADIATION HAZARD and, AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

The corridor dipped into an open space just ahead, and they found themselves walking into a large lobby area, four pressure doors on each wall. The largest door, the one directly ahead, was labelled: SUBLEVEL 7 CYBERNETICS/ROBOTICS DIVISION RESTRICTED AREA DR. DAHM HEAD RESEARCHER

“Through here,” Axel said, and went to the keypad hanging on the wall beside the door. But before he had the chance to do anything, one of the smaller pressure doors to his left slid up, and in stepped a very pissed-off looking man that they all recognised. It was Leon Shiva. He was unarmed.

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“Shiva!” Blaze hissed. He didn’t speak. Instead, he jumped forward across the lobby, sending his foot sharply into Blaze’s gut. She gagged and fell backwards, her head slamming against the opposite wall. “Fuck you, bitch!” he roared. “Now die!” “Son of a bitch!” Max cried, and squeezed the trigger on his M16. But Shiva was too fast. The rounds zipped through the air and hit the wall, Shiva becoming an impossible blur of speed as he rolled across the floor in Max’s direction. Max went to defend himself by raising his arms, but was too slow. Shiva stabbed his foot upward, catching Max on the jaw and sending him down. “Final Crash!” Shiva flipped around the room, dealing rapid punches and kicks to all six of them, taking them by surprise. Skate raised his weapon towards the blur of movement, had Shiva in his sights, then the next thing he knew Shiva was gone and he was pointing the gun at Axel. “Shit!” Skate cried, jerking his arm down and getting knocked back suddenly by Shiva’s fist as it found its way violently into his face. His nose cracked, spewing blood. He collapsed to the ground in agony, screaming in pain. “Skate!” Adam shouted. He pummelled into Shiva with his fists, then as he pulled his arm back again, Shiva returned the blows – punches to the stomach, chest, groin, stomach, face – Adam’s vision went white. For a moment he was disorientated, then he was on the ground. He felt Shiva kick him hard in the ribs, and there was a wet cracking sound. “Fuck!” Adam croaked. Shiva leapt back then, coming up in a martial arts stance, facing the others. “Come on, you fucking amateurs!” he roared, wiping sweat from his brow. “Show me what you’ve got. Blaze!” In an instant, he was upon her. Blaze reached up her right arm and batted away his left foot as it sailed towards her face. She countered with a sharp slap around the side of his head. He stumbled, then Blaze screamed, focusing the energy of her aura into a focal point before her. Her hands swelled and became hot, and as she threw them towards Shiva, a ball of blue fire charged towards him, burning his fighting robes and sending him crashing to the ground. “Fireball!” Zan glided forward then, extending his left arm, discharging a violent bolt of electricity. “Powerup!” But Shiva had anticipated the move and rolled sideways, flipping up and out of harm’s way. He grabbed Adam’s M16 and moved it towards Blaze, his finger already feeling for the trigger. “No!” Axel screamed, and leapt at Shiva, knocking the weapon from his hands with a flying knee attack. Shiva screwed his face up as he blocked Axel’s ensuing jabs and kicks, then gasped as Axel pushed him back and came up in a thundering uppercut that split the skin on Shiva’s chest, drawing blood, sending him falling to the ground. “Grand Upper!” Shiva leapt up again, but this time he was knocked back down by Max, who barrelled into him from the side, his entire body rolling and spinning like an insane wrecking ball. “Thunder!”

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The impact crushed one of Shiva’s legs, and there was the sound of bone snapping - a dull, wet crack that made him yelp in pain. He collapsed. Blaze leapt back, getting ready for his next move, then relaxed. He wasn’t going to be getting up again. He lay on the floor, whimpering and cursing to himself, cradling his broken leg, trying to haul himself away across the stainless floor, leaving a trail of deep red blood. “You fuckers!” he roared. “You’re going to regret this!” “I don’t think so,” Blaze said, and raised her M-16. It got noisy in the lobby. Shiva’s entire lower body was shredded by the automatic fire, spraying blood and guts everywhere. Red blood sprayed across the floor, walls, and back up over Blaze’s face. After the deafening roar of the weapon subsided, Blaze gasped, blinking her eyes, her face dripping with blood. She was shaking. She took a deep breath, trying to relax, and turned to regard Adam, who was getting to his feet, clutching his broken rib. Behind him, Skate was nursing his broken nose without much enthusiasm. “Stupid question, but are you guys okay?” Blaze asked, using the back of her arm to wipe blood from her face. Adam nodded. “Christ, that guy was fast! I think I’ve got a broken rib, but I’ve been through worse - I’ll live. Skate?” Skate frowned. “Ah…Ow…Oh, man, my fucking nose is broken! But I can live with that for the time being…I guess. The important thing is that we iced that Syndicate motherfucker! Nice one, Blaze.” Axel’s eyes went to the body of Shiva. It was not a pretty sight. He squinted his eyes and turned to look at Blaze. “Good job. It’s about time that twisted bastard was killed.” Blaze smiled and nodded. It had certainly felt good, killing Shiva. That fucker had been involved with the experiments at the mental hospital, so as far as she was concerned, he had it coming. He’d been haunting her dreams these past couple of nights since he revealed the truth to her, and killing him now seemed to bring closure to the whole affair in Blaze’s mind. There were bigger things at stake right now… “Let’s keep moving!” she shouted, “Axel, can you open the door to Dr. Dahm’s laboratory?” “Way ahead of you,” he said, moving to the keypad beside the door and punching in a 4-digit code. The lock chimed and Axel grinned, ever-appreciative of the lock-breaking tricks he’d learned from his buddy in MI-7 a few years earlier. “Doctor Zan, what do your sensors perceive?” Adam asked. Zan cocked his head, taking a moment to sink into his perceptions, then said: “There is one human life reading behind this door. It would seem Dr. Dahm has been waiting for us, alone. This must be a trap.” Blaze walked to the entrance and stood beside Axel as the pressure door slid up, giving them access to the laboratory. “Whatever’s in store for us through here, we can handle it,” she said confidently. “The Syndicate grossly underestimates human resolve. It is their weakness, and it will be their undoing.” Axel nodded, and entered the door, taking point. “Amen to that,” he muttered.

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*** They found themselves in a large, blank open chamber - constructed solely from titanium. In the middle of the chamber, a long, metallic, scissor-like device was suspended from an emplacement in the ceiling, some ten meters above them. “Welcome!” a voice boomed from nearby. Blaze turned her head in the direction of the sound, and saw that Dr. Henry Dahm was sitting at a control console in an adjacent room, through a circular view port that appeared to be made from glass. “Henry!” Zan shouted. “It’s over! Surrender to us, now!” Behind the glass, Dr. Dahm emitted a cackling laugh that sent a chill down Blaze’s spine. “I think not, Gilbert!” he spat. “This is only the beginning! Mr. X is going to usher in a new era for humanity, and you can’t stop him! You’re too late!” “Oh? Why’s that?” Blaze probed. Dahm chuckled. “The second phase of Project Y has been completed, and is ready to be unleashed upon the world! Even if you manage to defeat me, here and now, you can never hope to defeat Robot Y!” Blaze swallowed. “Robot Y?” Dahm laughed, the sound echoing around the large chamber. “It needn’t concern you, my child. You will never make it out of here alive anyway...” “We’ll see about that!” Blaze screamed. She lifted her M16 assault rifle towards the glass and squeezed the trigger. There was a burst of fire, and Blaze gritted her teeth, keeping her finger held down until the magazine went dry. When the smoke cleared, they saw that the glass was undamaged, and Dr. Dahm had a huge vindictive grin on his face. “I wouldn’t bother trying that again,” he chuckled. “This glass is nine inches thick, and shielded by electro-waves that can withstand any bombardment.” He reached down and pressed switches on the control panel in front of him, securely locking the doors at either end of the large chamber. “Now you are trapped,” he said. “Prepare to die.” Axel ran to the door at the end of the chamber and punched numbers into the keypad. It made a stubborn sound and refused to open. “No shit,” he said. “We’re locked in.” As he spoke, the long, scissor-like contraption in the middle of the room whirred into life. It moved like a piece of industrial machinery across the room, the pincers on the bottom opening and closing. Through the glass, Blaze could see Dahm’s right hand wrapped around a control stick. He was controlling the machine by remote! She didn’t know what the machine was, but guessed it was dangerous. She took a step back as it moved towards her. “Any last words?” Dahm said gleefully. The pincers on the machine opened then, and a powerful surge of electricity sparked out from a hidden emitter, sending violent convulsions through Blaze’s body. She gasped in pain, felt buzzing, leaping current jumping through her arms and torso. She fell, stunned. “Everyone stand back!” Axel shouted. “Adam, get Blaze away from there!” Adam ran forward and scooped up Blaze in his arms, getting her clear of the dangerous machine. Max and Skate backed off, sidling towards Axel.

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Dr. Dahm laughed, pressing buttons. The pincers retracted and the machine hummed across the room, moving towards Zan, who braced himself. Zan held out his cyborg arms, and allowed an electrical charge to build up inside his body. The charge continued to build until forks of yellow energy leapt up from his armour. He stepped towards the machine and threw forward his left arm, sending a surge of power towards it. There was a bright flash of light. Axel squinted his eyes, then as the light faded, he saw that Zan’s attack had met with moderate success. The scissor-like machine was twisted and coiled at the end, carbon-scoring and sparks jumping off where it had been damaged. Zan retreated, giving Axel a chance to raise his M16 and open fire on the strange contraption. The device caught the bullets straight on, and shards of twisted, blackened metal spewed up and over the floor. Axel kept his finger on the trigger until his weapon was empty, then groped for another clip, suspended on his belt. He reloaded quickly, as Dahm attempted to reroute power through secondary systems and sent the machine sailing towards him again. Axel opened fire, this time aiming for the upper section of the machine. The first few shots went wild, but after a moment he was hitting metal, scarring and splitting. The machine made a coughing sound, then overloaded. A huge spark of electricity arched from the machine’s broken, twisted pincers towards Dr. Dahm’s control room. “Noooo!” Dahm screamed, his control consoles exploding and sparking with the overload. “No! This isn’t possible!” Suddenly, Dr. Dahm vanished as an explosion tore its way through the control room and forced its way through the glass, a rumbling, deafening roar that sent everyone in the chamber to the ground. Glass scattered, smoke blurred. Blaze shook her head, trying to steady her vision in the chaos. She turned to look at Axel, and saw that he was already getting to his feet. She stood up herself, taking a deep breath, but choked violently as she inhaled a lungful of black smoke. “Axel!” she cried. “I’m on it!” he shouted back. She saw him moving to the exit door, pressing buttons on the keypad. He shook his head. “It’s no use,” he said. “These MI-7 master codes I’ve been using don’t seem to have any effect this deep into the base.” Adam wiped sweat from his forehead, and tried to see what was going on in the control room above them, trying to see Dr. Dahm… but all he could make out was thick, black smoke and an electrical fire through the spidered and blackened glass. “How do we get out of here?” Skate managed to say then, and Zan stepped forward, a look of iron determination on his face. “Perhaps I can help,” Zan said. Axel nodded, and allowed him to step up to the door’s keypad, inserting his computer interface device on the end of his forefinger. “Accessing…” For a moment, Zan’s expression was deadly serious, then turned to panic – then it was relieved, and they heard a loud chiming sound, the door sliding up, allowing them access to the rest of the laboratory.

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“Good work, Zan,” Axel said, with a smile on his face. He poked his head through the open door and saw that the next area was clear. “Okay, team, move out.” *** The journey from Dr. Dahm’s lab down to the Command Facility on sublevel 8 had been a short one, and they’d encountered heavy resistance – from X-Robots, no less. After that, they’d been set upon by a couple of bipedal sentry robots that stormed from the Command Facility’s entrance wielding miniguns. It was a formidable defence, but nothing they couldn’t handle. They were a formidable team. “Okay guys, we’re here,” Axel said, stepping away from the ruined, smouldering machines at their feet. “The Command Facility,” Zan whispered darkly. Axel raised his M16 and they rounded the corner, emerging into a huge open room as large as an aircraft hanger. Quantum computers were lined up against walls, and there were large spawning vats and tanks connected by organic tubing. Blaze’s eyes darted around the enclosed walkway, her field of vision obscured by vast computer terminals and bulkheads. Nearby, a group of frightened technicians turned and ran, screaming. They went past a large sign that said, STASIS AREA - and they came to an archway. They passed through it, and Blaze gasped in shock. There, suspended in a medical vat not ten meters away, was a human brain and spinal cord, attached to a computer system. A loud and familiar voice boomed from a hidden loudspeaker: “Welcome, Blaze Fielding,” Mr. X said, “I have been expecting you…” “Mr. X!” Blaze hissed. She couldn’t believe it. “So you were killed in that explosion two years ago!” X’s tone grew darker. “Killed? No, not quite. But I had to part with my body. I survived thanks to Dr. Dahm, and now with his Project Y research I have achieved immortality itself. I have outgrown the need for my physical body, unlike you weak creatures of flesh ...” Blaze shook her head. As he spoke, images flashed through her mind…memories of her parents’ death, her years of silence, isolation and darkness in the mental hospital, all the shit and pain this fucker had put her through these past few years… “I’ve had enough of your bullshit monologue!” she screamed, interrupting him. “Die, you sick fuck!” She raised her assault rifle and squeezed the trigger, spraying the medical vat with bullets. There was no effect. The bullets bounced harmlessly from the reinforced material. X laughed. “You amuse me, Blaze. As if I would allow you to stroll in here and destroy me so easily…” Blaze felt her aura raging within her, felt the sudden intense desire to kill X, kill X, kiiiiiilllll X -

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She screamed, concentrating her rage, throwing a fireball straight into the medical vat. But when it hit, the energy seemed to disperse harmlessly around the contours of the glass cylinder. “Please,” X mocked, “I gave you your power, you stupid cunt. I am quite capable of defending myself against it...” Blaze frowned. Zan’s head whirred as he examined the disembodied brain. “Mr. X, you are finished. Surrender to us now. Your plot has been thwarted, we’ve exposed the Syndicate as the real culprits in this Machiavellian political manoeuvring. Shiva is dead, along with the majority of your so-called Syndicate ‘bosses’. And now Dr. Dahm’s laboratory upstairs is wrecked. Surrender!” “Fuck you!” X hissed. “Dr. Dahm was the key to my plan. The world will pay for your meddling, big time.” “Mr. X, your scheme ends here, now!” Axel shouted. “Don’t you ever give up? You’re helpless. Surrender!” “That’s where you’re wrong, handsome one. My loyal followers in the Syndicate have planted another nuclear bomb in the capital city of Lima, primed to detonate within the hour. You know what that means don’t you? When it detonates, you won’t be able to avoid nuclear war! Even you will not able to stop mass destruction.” “No! It’s not worth it!” Blaze said. “Millions of people will die for nothing! Face it, Mr. X, Dr. Dahm is no longer with you. Without him, your plans are worthless!” “Blaze is right,” Zan nodded. “Without Dr. Dahm, you have nothing. Do you expect to rule the world from a glass phial?” “Yes, traitor,” X boomed. “Let me show you how.”

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17 Endgame

A tremendous, thundering crash came from somewhere beyond the stasis area, a sound like walls being torn down, like glass exploding, like a bull in a china shop – - and Blaze heard Axel say, “Oh, my God,” in breathless disbelief. Her heart started to pound in fear. Something very bad was coming. “Holy Shit!” In a cloud of dust and rubble, cracked concrete and plaster, Robot Y burst into the Command Facility like a vision of hell. It was huge, 20 feet tall, heavily armoured – with two railguns attached to one of its metallic arms, a missile-launcher on the other. A rear mounted rocket pack allowed it to glide in mid-air, its giant, impossible body filling the chamber. Mr. X cackled evilly. “Behold!” he screamed, “The pinnacle of Project Y research – Robot Y!” Blaze gulped, tears forming in her eyes. She felt overwhelmed by fear and awe. “Robot Y is the ultimate life-form,” X beamed. “A vessel for my consciousness, it is the new body that I will use to rule the world! Once I’ve killed you, that is…” “Clip!” Adam screamed, not taking his gaze from the metal monstrosity, still a hundred feet in front of them and not nearly enough. He drew his empty weapon and ejected the clip, barely aware that it was Skate who handed him another as Robot Y shambled towards them – - and Axel was firing his M16, the clatter of rounds blasting through the large chamber, Robot Y coming ever closer as Adam slapped the clip home. Max and Zan were suddenly next to him, Blaze and Skate on Axel’s other side, all of them targeting the giant robot. Zan found the robot’s right eye and squeezed the trigger, the roar of his .44 Magnum lost in the combined explosive firepower, all of them firing – - bambambam, the sounds blending together, deafening, Robot Y tilting its head to one side as if curious, lowering to the ground and taking a crashing step into the wall of bullets. It raised its left arm, one of the railguns humming to life… “Heads up!” Axel shouted, and they scattered. A thick blue beam of ionised uranium blasted from the railgun, smashing into a bulkhead and shredding metal and concrete. The impact knocked them all to the floor. “Fall back!” Axel screamed. Zan backed up a step, horrified by Robot Y’s complete lack of damage. If they were doing any damage at all Zan couldn’t see it, but it was all they had. He tried for the eye again – - and heard Blaze screaming something, glanced away long enough to see that she had a grenade out, that she was handing it to Axel.

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“Go, go, go!” Axel shouted, and Max grabbed Zan’s arm and they turned and ran, Blaze pacing them, Zan praying that they were far enough away not to be hit by the shreds of hot metal. Blaze ran towards the exit, terrified, thinking that she’d never seen anything like it. A giant flying robot with heavy weapons and battle armour – - Ultimate life form? How is it “Fire in the hole!” Axel screamed, and Blaze jumped through the open pressure door, into the sublevel 8 corridor, trying to fly- and BOOM, she was flying, Adam to her right, a warm body falling against her back – and they all hit the floor, Blaze trying to take it on the shoulder, landing too heavily on her arm instead. Ow ow ow! Axel had thrown himself against her, either on purpose or from the blast, and as she sat up, turning, she saw him grimace in pain. She saw two, three pieces of dark metal stuck to his back, pinning the white tee-shirt to his skin, and reached out to help him – - and saw Robot Y still standing, brushing at its armour, at the blackened patches from the frag grenade. A few shards had stuck into the armour, but she thought – it was hard to tell from its silence – from the way it took another crashing step towards them it looked seemingly unfazed. It raised its other arm, preparing the rocket launcher. She crawled to her feet, ignoring the pain in her arm, reaching down to grab Axel’s outstretched hand to pull him up. The second he was on his feet she screamed, “Move!” A small missile rocketed towards them. They jumped away and ran as the thing crashed into the wall and exploded harmlessly. They hurtled down the sublevel 8 corridor, facing no choice but to flee from the unstoppable foe that crashed after them. In his stasis chamber, Mr. X was laughing. *** Four points of injury, all in his upper back, all burning and sharp. Axel hissed air between his teeth, decided the pain bearable, and put it aside until further notice. Robot Y wasn’t down, and now it was chasing them through the base, not stopping, smashing through walls and causing huge amounts of damage to the infrastructure. They didn’t have anything bigger to throw at it than what they’d already tried, but at least it couldn’t move very fast down here. The surface, we’ll have to get to the surface and call in the cavalryEven as he thought it, he was opening his mouth to shout, to be heard over the others as they emptied their weapons, the rounds as useless as the grenade had been. “Adam, call in the reinforcements, now! Fall back to the surface, we can’t stop this thing by ourselves!” Adam nodded, and reached for his belt. “I just hope they get here as quickly as they promised!” He pulled out a locater device and triggered it by pressing a red switch on its side. “It’s done!” he shouted. “To the cargo elevator!” Axel cried. “This way! Move! Move!” They ran as fast as they could through the corridors of sublevel 8, gaining some ground from the pursuing monster. Robot Y was out of their sight now, but they

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could still hear it smashing and blasting its way towards them, the entire base shaking and crumbling around them. They came to the cargo elevator and jumped in, Axel groping for the controls, hitting ‘G’. The reinforced steel door slid shut, and there was a groan of metal. The elevator started to ascend. Blaze swallowed, trying to remain upright as the base crumbled and boomed around them. There was the sound of metal scraping from somewhere above them, and for a moment she expected the elevator to drop, sending them hurtling to their deaths. But it didn’t, and she watched the indicator cycle through as they ascended the base. Sublevel 6. Sublevel 5. Sublevel 4. Suddenly, an alarm klaxon started blaring, and a cool female voice began to speak, slowly and clearly over the noise. “The self destruct sequence has been activated. All personnel must evacuate immediately or process deactivation. You have five minutes. The self destruct sequence has been activated -” “What the fuck?” Skate blurted. “What is this?” “It would appear Mr. X has activated the self destruct sequence,” Zan observed dryly. “But why?” Skate asked. “If he destroys this base, he’ll die, w…won’t he? I don’t get it.” Zan looked at him and said, “Mr. X believes Robot Y to be a vessel for his consciousness; evidently he also believes he can survive physical death. His delusions of grandeur have blinded him to his own mortality. He is truly insane.” Blaze nodded, gritting her teeth. “He’s a fucking lunatic, always has been.” Axel took a deep breath as the elevator hummed to a stop at ground level. The doors opened and the cool air of early morning swept over them – and the sweet, wondrous sound of a USAF apache overhead, circling. They walked out into the daylight, into the expanse of the Nevada Desert, morning sun pouring over them. They had emerged out of a rock formation. “They’re here!” Adam shouted, looking into the sky, and Blaze grinned, feeling a sudden wave of affection for him. She could see dozens of jet fighters roaring overhead, ready to back them up. The helicopter hovered in the air above them, blowing sand all around them. Adam and Axel both waved their arms frantically, signalling the pilot to hurry as Blaze looked at her watch. A little over three and a half minutes remained. More than enough time – CRASH! Blaze whirled around, and saw that the door to the elevator had exploded outwards, chunks of concrete, metal, tar and bedrock flying into the air and raining down over the sand. A massive, robotic arm stretched up from the hole, fell across the jagged edge – - and Robot Y leaped out onto the surface, crashing to the ground. It hummed smoothly from its agile crouch…and started toward them at incredible speed. “You can’t stop me!” the robot roared. It was the voice of Mr. X. “I am God now!” “Scatter!” Axel yelled.

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They split, running in different directions, and the helicopter rose higher into the air, firing its 30mm machineguns at the giant bipedal machine. Robot Y walked relentlessly forward through the wall of fire, seemingly unstoppable. The apache raised higher still, the pilot a seasoned veteran who could immediately see that the rounds were having no effect. He opened fire with hydra missiles, sending a flurry of them down toward Robot Y. The thundering blasts slammed into the robot, creating a huge ball of fire. Robot Y fell onto its back, momentarily stunned. Wind whipped down over Axel as the roar of the helicopter’s blades suddenly got louder. “Quickly! Get on!” Axel stared up at the apache, saw that it was hovering only twenty feet from the ground, descending. Its side door had been rolled open and an air force guy was standing there, waving to them. The chopper lowered to the ground and the team jumped on board. “Go!” Blaze screamed. The apache lifted away and sped to safety. She turned her head out the side door as they raced away, saw that Robot Y was getting to its feet, activating its jetpack, coming after them. “Shit!” Then she saw a blur of smoke as another three missiles plummeted into Robot Y’s side, knocking it off course. It rolled in the air, and an F-29 Stealth jet raced past, followed by another. Blaze gasped then, as dozens of stealth bombers appeared on the horizon, along with amazing fighter jets she’d never even seen before. The US Air Force was here in full, and they meant business. Blaze smiled wearily and fell back into her seat, closing her eyes, the helicopter tearing away.

*** Mr. X was the only one who heard the calm, female voice as it counted down. He accepted his fate, content in the knowledge that he had succeeded…that he had become God. Now Robot Y would bring about his New Age and he would rule supreme. “You have five seconds, three, two, one. System activation now.” A circuit that ran the length and width of the base connected. With an earth-shaking thunderclap of motion and sound, the Syndicate Stronghold exploded, and Mr. X ceased to exist. Metal roared, rock collapsed and concrete blew into fine blackened dust. Massive fireballs rose up into the early morning sky and could be seen from miles away in their brief few seconds of life. As the incredible peal of booming sound rolled across the sand and died away, the wreckage started to burn.

***

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The six of them were quiet as the helicopter moved away from ground zero, back toward the city, and though each of them had a million questions, something about their silence didn’t invite conversation. Axel and Blaze were both staring out the window at the spreading fire that had been the Syndicate Stronghold, their expressions grim. They saw Robot Y leap out of the wreckage then, broken but still functioning, raising its arm in a defiant gesture. Then it was knocked back down by another halo of missile fire, and an explosion ripped through its metallic torso, destroying it for good. Blaze shuddered. She was glad it was dead, and Mr. X along with it. Did this mean that the Syndicate had finally been defeated? She decided that it would keep for another day. For now, she just wanted to go home.

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Epilogue

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the President of the United States. I come before you to make an announcement to the American people, and the free loving nations of this world. The threat of nuclear war is over! The criminal Syndicate behind the bombing of Wood Oak City has been brought to justice! “The Syndicate’s leader, Mr. X, was working with renowned cyberneticist Dr. Henry Dahm, under the guise of the RoboCy Corporation, operating out of a base in the Nevada Desert. They were conducting all kinds of unethical and illegal scientific experiments, whilst plotting world domination. “As of 6am this morning, Mr. X is now dead, and his base completely destroyed, thanks to the efforts of six courageous individuals who located the hidden base and rooted him out. The few surviving criminals were arrested, and Dr. Dahm has been sent to an asylum. An investigation is currently underway into accusations of corruption at the LAPD.” “A nuclear explosion in the capital city of Lima was narrowly averted while the Syndicate Stronghold was being cleaned up, and I would to take this opportunity to also thank the trust and friendship afforded to our operatives by the Lima government during the emergency. “The following individuals are to be honoured for their bravery and valour, in bringing this vicious Syndicate to justice: Axel Stone, Blaze Fielding, Adam Hunter, Eddie Hunter, Max Hatchett, and Dr. Gilbert Zan, former RoboCy researcher, who is to receive a full pardon. They are all heroes that have saved the world as we know it, and we are forever in their debt!” *** The meeting room was a study in quiet but unpretentious elegance. Three men sat at the stately oak table, a fourth standing by the window and staring out thoughtfully at the hazy morning sky. The man at the window could see the others reflected in the glass, though doubted that they noticed his careful scrutiny; for as sharp as they were politically, they tended to be fairly dull about watching what went on around them. After the phone conference, the man who always wore blue spoke first, directly addressing the elderly man with the groomed moustache. “Do we need to discuss the ramifications of this?” Blue asked. Moustache sighed. “I believe the report covered them,” he said airily. The tea drinker broke in, setting his cup down with a rattle. “I don’t think it’s a wise idea to underestimate the magnitude of this…difficulty. Mr. X is dead, and with the current instability factor in Blaze Fielding’s development…” Blue nodded. “I agree. This is getting way out of hand. First the facility on the island is destroyed, now the Project Y facility -” Moustache cut him off with a sharp glance. Blue, properly abashed, cleared his throat, his face red as he struggled to recover.

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“That is to say, I believe there should be a more thorough investigation into these matters. Don’t you think so, Mr. Shiva?” The man at the window turned around, using a walking stick to steady himself. Leon Shiva still hadn’t quite got the hang of his prosthetic lower body, but he was grateful for it just the same. He didn’t smile, knowing how much it bothered them when he didn’t smile. “I’m afraid I’ll have to get back to you on that,” Shiva said coolly. “I have a lot of work to do to save this organisation from going under.” Blue nodded quickly. “Of course, take all the time you need. No hurry, gentlemen, am I right?” Without another word, Shiva turned and walked out of the room. Inside, he wondered how much longer the game could go on.

***

The sun shone high in the sky, casting its beautiful rays over the city of Los Angeles, as the team gathered at the railway station, saying their last goodbyes to Dr. Zan. Zan stepped forward onto the platform as the next train thundered to a stop. He was dressed in a fedora hat and a long trench coat in an effort to mask his robotic appearance, and he blended in well with the crowd. He carried a large suitcase, packed with his only belongings. Axel grabbed Zan’s right hand and shook it, grinning. “Thanks for everything you’ve done, Dr. Zan. We couldn’t have done it without you.” Blaze wiped a tear from her eye. “Take care, doctor. We’ll miss you.” Zan nodded, a look of calm respect on his face as he looked at them both, his eyes darting to the faces of Max, Adam and Skate as well. “It was a pleasure,” he said. “Until next time, then.” “See ya doc!” Skate called, grinning. He turned and walked to the awaiting train, climbing aboard. The door slammed shut behind him, and the train pulled out of the station, rolling off into the distance. Blaze smiled. She had made a new friend in Dr. Zan through this whole ordeal, and she knew that he felt the same. She hoped they would meet again someday. “Well, we did it,” Adam howled. “We saved the world and defeated Mr. X once and for all! Now who’s up for a party? Blaze?” He raised his eyebrows. Blaze laughed. Adam’s high spirits were contagious. “Sounds good,” she grinned. “Come on, Axel, Max, Skate, you’re not getting out of this. Let’s see what there is to do in this town.” Axel nodded and hailed a cab. As they got in, he wondered if it really was all over… The cab sped off into the city, away from the station, taking them deeper into the Streets of Rage.

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BOOK IV

THE NEW SYNDICATE

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Prologue Subashiri, Japan, August 2018

The dusk crept in around Mt. Fuji, and shaded the fertile land purple. Like a thick velvet cloak it muted all sounds, so that the evening was tranquil and hushed. At the base of the mountain, nestled in an enclosure of date palm trees by a small lake, was a complex of small villages composed of white buildings with flat roofs. From where they stood at the doorway of the Musashi household, Harada Maezumi and Naoko Takamura looked out at the mountain, appreciating its beauty. Its timeless presence had a deeply symbolic meaning for them both, spiritual in nature, passed down through the generations. “It’s a beautiful evening, sensei,” Naoko said, her young voice soft and innocent. She was in her twenties, and was the fiancée of Harada’s greatest pupil in the ancient art of ninjitsu. Harada Maezumi nodded. He was three times her age, an aging wise man. Bald, tall, dressed in ornamental robes, he had a look of great power and respectfulness. “Indeed. Beautiful – if only our situation were as pleasant…” His voice was firm and mature. He turned to her and said, “Naoko, it’s been five days since Joseph left for Tokyo. He is long overdue to return. I have still received no word.” Naoko seemed sad. “I do hope nothing bad has happened to him.” Harada took a deep breath and blew it out wearily, nodding to himself. Joseph Musashi was the greatest student he had ever trained; his abilities were already far beyond Harada’s own when he had been that age. They were now like father and son and had an unbreakable trust. It was uncharacteristic of Musashi not to return as they had both agreed, unless he was in trouble. Deep down, Harada knew that was likely the case, but he didn’t want to upset Naoko any more than she already was by mentioning it. They went inside and sat in the communal area; Naoko made tea, one for her, one for Harada. As she poured Harada’s cup, she looked into his eyes and said, “Do you think he’s in danger?” “Nothing is certain,” Harada replied, “but why else would Joseph be so tardy?” He sipped his tea and shook his head as he had done so often before. “It frightens me,” he said. “The responsibility. This knowledge we have gained. If it should fall into the wrong hands...” He sipped and sighed before he spoke again. “Even if Musashi returns with the artefact and we take it to the right people, will they believe this material that is six thousand years old?” “Why must we bring in others?” Naoko asked with an edge of exasperation in her voice. “Why can we not do alone what has to be done? It is our destiny...” At that moment she was distracted and she lifted her hand. “Listen!” Her voice changed, sharpening with alarm. “What is it?” Harada looked up also. “The dog,” she answered.

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“That damn mongrel,” he agreed. “It’s always making the night hideous with its yapping.” At that moment the lights went out. They froze with surprise in the darkness. The soft thudding of the decrepit diesel generator in its shed at the back of the palm grove had ceased. It was so much a part of the night that they noticed it only when it was silent. Their eyes adjusted to the faint starlight that came in through the terrace doors. Harada crossed the room and took the oil lamp down from the shelf beside the door where it waited for such a contingency. He lit it, and looked across at Naoko with an expression of comical resignation. “Allow me to go down -” “Sensei,” she interrupted him, “the dog!” He listened for a moment, and his expression changed to mild concern. The dog was silent out there in the night. “I’m sure it’s nothing to be alarmed about.” He went to the door, and for no reason she suddenly called after him. “Sensei, be careful!” He shrugged dismissively and stepped out onto the terrace. Naoko thought for an instant that it was the shadow of the vine over the trellis moving in the night breeze, but the night was still. Then she realised that it was a human figure crossing the flagstones silently and swiftly, coming in behind Harada as he skirted the fishpond in the centre of the paved terrace. “Sensei!” She screamed a warning and he spun round, lifting the lamp high. “Who are you?” he shouted. “What do you want here?” The intruder closed on him silently. A traditional Zeed robe swirled around his legs, and a black headcloth covered his head. In the light of the lamp Harada saw that he had drawn the corner of the headcloth over his face to mask his features. It was Naoko, however, who recognised the figure. “Neo Zeed!” she screamed. The Zeed’s back was turned towards her so Naoko did not see the knife in his right hand, but she could not mistake the upward stabbing motion that he aimed at Harada’s stomach. Harada grunted with pain and doubled up at the blow, and his attacker drew the blade free and stabbed again, but this time Harada dropped the lamp and seized the knife arm. The flame of the fallen oil lamp was guttering and flaring. The two men struggled in the gloom, but Naoko saw a dark stain spreading over the older man’s front. “Run!” he bellowed at her. “Go! Fetch help! I cannot hold him!” The Harada she knew was strong, but she could see that he was past his prime, and was outmatched by this assailant. “Go! Please! Save yourself, Naoko!” She could hear by his tone that he was weakening, but he still clung desperately to his attacker’s knife arm. She had been paralysed with shock and indecision these few fatal seconds, but now she broke free of the spell and ran to the door. Spurred by her terror and her need to bring help to Harada she crossed the terrace, swift as a cat, and he held the intruder from blocking her way. She vaulted over the low stone wall into the grove, and almost into the arms of a second man. She screamed and twisted away from him as his outstretched fingers raked across her face, and almost broke free, but his fingers hooked in the thin cotton stuff of her blouse.

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This time she saw the knife in his hand, a long silvery flash in the starlight, and it goaded her to fresh effort. The cotton tore in his grip and she was free, but not quickly enough to escape the blade. She felt the sting of it across her upper arm, and she kicked out at him with all the strength of panic and her hard young body behind it. She felt her foot slam into the softness of his lower body with a shock that jarred her knee and ankle, and her attacker cried out and fell to his knees. Then she was away and running through the palm grove. At first she ran without purpose or direction. She ran simply to get as far from them as her flying legs would carry her. Then gradually she brought her panic under control. She glanced back, but saw nobody following her. As she reached the edge of the lake she slowed her run to conserve her strength, and she became aware of the warm trickle of her own blood down her arm and then dripping from her fingertips. She stopped and rested her back against the rough bole of one of the palms while she tore off her blouse and hurriedly bound up her arm. She was shaking so much from shock and exertion that even her uninjured hand was fumbling and clumsy. She knotted the crude blouse with her teeth and left hand, and the bleeding slowed. She was uncertain of which way to run, and then she saw the dim lamplight in the window of Alia’s shack across the nearest irrigation canal. She pushed herself away from the palm trunk and started towards it. She had covered less than a hundred paces when a voice called from the grove behind her, “Tatsu, has the woman come your way?” Immediately an electric torch flashed from the darkness ahead of her and another voice called back, “No, I have not seen her.” Another few seconds and Naoko would have run full into him. She crouched down and looked around desperately. There was another torch coming through the grove behind her, following the path she had taken. It must be the man she had kicked, but she could tell by the motion of the torch’s beam that he had recovered and was moving swiftly and easily again. Neo Zeed assassins! They’ve come for the discovery! Oh, where are you Joseph, my love? Where are you when I need you the most? She was blocked on two sides, so she turned back along the edge of the lake. The road lay that way. She might be able to meet a late vehicle travelling on it. She lost her footing on the rough ground and went down, bruising and scraping her knees, but she jumped up again and hurried on. The second time she stumbled, her out-thrust left hand landing on a round, smooth stone the size of an orange. When she went on she carried the stone with her; as a weapon it gave her a glimmer of comfort. Her wounded arm was beginning to hurt, and she was driven by worry for Harada. She knew that he was badly wounded, for she had seen the direction and the force of the knife thrust. She had to find help for him. Behind her the two men with torches were sweeping the grove and she could not keep her lead ahead of them. They were gaining on her - she could hear them calling to each other. She reached the road at last, and with a small whimper of relief climbed out of the drainage pitch on to the pale gravel surface. Her legs were shaking under her so badly that they could hardly carry her weight, but she turned in the direction of the village, and ran.

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Naoko had not reached the first bend before she saw a set of headlights coming slowly towards her, flickering through the palm trees. She broke into a run down the centre of the road. “Help me!” she screamed. “Please help me!” The car came through the bend and before the headlights dazzled her she saw that it was a small, dark-coloured Hyundai. She stood in the centre of the road waving her arms to halt the driver, lit by the headlights as though she were on a theatre stage. The Hyundai stopped in front of her, and she ran round to the driver’s door and tugged at the handle. “Please, you must help me -” The door was opened from within, and then was thrown back with such force that she staggered off-balance. The driver leapt out into the roadway and caught her by the wrist of the injured arm. He dragged her to the Hyundai and pulled open the back door. “Oroko! Yuji!” he shouted into the dark grove. “I have her.” And she heard the answering cries and saw the torches turn in their direction. The driver was forcing her head down and trying to push her into the back seat, but she realised then that she still had the stone in her good hand. She turned slightly and braced herself, and then swung her fist with the stone still clenched in it against the side of his head. It caught him squarely on the temple. Without another sound he dropped to the gravel surface and lay motionless. Naoko dropped the stone and pelted away down the road, but she found that she was running straight down the path of the headlights, and they lit her every movement. The two men in the grove shouted again and came up to the gravel roadway behind her, almost shoulder to shoulder. Glancing back, she saw them gaining on her swiftly, and she realised that her only chance was to get off the road and back into the darkness. She turned and plunged down the bank. Immediately she found herself waist-deep in the waters of the lake. In the darkness and the confusion she had become disorientated. She had not realised that she had not reached the point where the road skirted the embankment at the water’s edge. She knew that she did not have time to climb back on to the road, and she knew also that there were thick clumps of grass and reeds ahead of her, that might give her shelter. She waded out until the bottom sloped away steeply under her feet, and she found herself forced to swim. She broke into an awkward breast-stroke, hampered by her skirts and her injured arm. However, her slow and stealthy movements created almost no disturbance on the surface, and before the men on the road had reached the point where she had descended on the bank, she reached a dense strand of reeds. She eased her way into the thick of them and let herself sink. Before the water covered her nostrils she felt her toes touch the soft ooze of the lake bottom. She stood there quietly, with just the top of her head above the surface and her face turned away from the bank. She knew her dark hair would not reflect the light of a probing torch. Though the water covered her ears, she could make out the excited voices of the Zeeds on the road. They had turned their torches down towards the water and were shining them into the reeds, searching for her. For a moment one of the beams played full on her head, and she drew a deep breath ready to submerge, but the beam moved on and she realised that they had not picked her out.

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The fact that she had not been seen even in the direct torchlight emboldened her to raise her head slightly until one ear was clear and she could make out their voices. “Go in there, Oroko, and bring the whore out.” She heard Oroko slipping and sliding down the bank and the splash as he hit the water. “Further out,” the head Zeed, Yuji, ordered him. “In those reeds there, where I am shining the torch.” Oroko was getting closer now, merely ten metres from her position. “There! Right in front of you. In those reeds. I can see her head.” Yuji encouraged him, and Naoko dreaded that they had spotted her. She became aware of Oroko coming ever closer through the murky water. Then, all of a sudden, everything went blank.

***

Yuji switched off both the headlight and the engine of the Hyundai before they reached the turning into the driveway of the villa and let the car coast down and stop below the terrace. All four of them left the Hyundai and climbed the stone steps to the flagged terrace. Harada’s body still lay where Yuji had left it beside the fishpond. They passed him without a glance and went into the dark study. Yuji placed the cheap nylon tote bag he carried on the tabletop. “We have wasted too much time already. We must work quickly now.” “It is Oroko’s fault,” protested the driver of the Hyundai. “He should have been quicker apprehending the girl.” “You had a chance on the road,” Oroko snarled at him, “and you did no better.” “Enough!” Yuji told them both. “The girl is ours now. If you want to get paid, then there had better be no more mistakes.” With the torch beam Yuji picked out the scroll that still lay on the tabletop. “That is the one.” He was certain, for he had been shown a photograph of it so that there would be no mistake. “The Hand wants everything - the maps and photographs. Also the books and papers, everything on the table that they were using in their work. Leave nothing,” Quickly they bundled everything into the tote bag and Yuji zipped it closed. “Now the old man. Bring him in here.” The other three went out on to the terrace and stooped over the body. Each of them seized a limb and dragged Harada back across the terrace and into the study. The back of Harada’s head bounced loosely on the stone step at the threshold and his blood painted a long wet skid mark across the tiles that glistened in the torchlight. “Get the lamp!” Yuji ordered, and Tatsu went back to the terrace and fetched the oil lamp from where Harada had dropped it. The flame was extinguished. Yuji held the lamp to his ear and shook it. “Full,” he said with satisfaction, and unscrewed the filter cap. “All right,” he told the other three, “take the bag out to the car.”

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As they hurried out Yuji sprinkled paraffin from the lamp over Harada’s robes, and then he went over to the shelves and splashed the remainder of the fuel over the books and manuscripts that crowded them. He dropped the empty lamp and reached under the skirts of his robe for a box of matches. He struck one of them and held it to the wet run of paraffin oil down the bookcase. It caught immediately, and flames spread upwards and curled and blackened the edges of the manuscripts. He turned away and went back to where Harada lay. He struck another match and dropped it onto his blood-and-paraffindrenched robe. A mantle of blue flames danced over Harada’s chest. The flames changed colour as they burned into the cotton material and the flesh beneath it. They turned orange, and sooty smoke spiralled up from their flickering crests. Yuji ran to the door, across the terrace and down the steps. As he clambered into the rear seat of the Hyundai, the driver gunned the engine and pulled away down the driveway.

The pain roused Harada Maezumi. It had to be that intense to bring him back from that far place on the very edge of life to which he had drifted. He groaned. The first thing he was aware of as he regained consciousness was the smell of his own flesh burning, and then the agony struck him with full force. A violent tremor shook his whole body and he opened his eyes and looked down at himself. His clothing was blackening and smouldering, and the pain was as nothing he had experienced in his entire life. He realised in a vague way that the room was on fire all around him. Smoke and waves of heat washed over him so that he could barely make out the shape of the doorway through them. The pain was so terrible that he wanted it to end. He wanted to die then and not have to endure it further. Then he remembered Naoko and Joseph… He tried to say their names through his scorched and blackened lips, but no sound came. Only the thought of her gave him the strength to move. He rolled over once, and the heat attacked his back that up until that moment had been shielded. He groaned aloud and rolled again, just a little nearer to the doorway. Each movement was a mighty effort and evoked fresh paroxysms of agony, but when he rolled on to his back again he realised that a gale of fresh air was being sucked through the open door to feed the flames. A lungful of the sweet mountain air revived him and gave him just sufficient strength to lunge down the step on to the cool stones of the terrace. His clothes and body were still on fire. He beat feebly at his chest to try to extinguish the flames, but his hands were black burning claws. Then he remembered the fishpond. The thought of plunging his tortured body into that cold water spurred him to one last effort, and he wriggled and wormed his way across the flags like a snake with a crushed spine. The pungent smoke from his still cremating flesh choked him and he coughed weakly, but kept doggedly on. He left slabs of his own grilled skin on the stone coping as he rolled across it and flopped into the pond. There was a hiss of steam, and a pale cloud of it obscured his vision so that for a moment he thought he was blinded. The agony of cold water on his raw burned flesh was so intense that he slid back over the edge of consciousness.

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When he came back to reality through the dark clouds he raised his dripping head. His hair was gone, frizzled away, and his skin hung in tatters from his cheeks and chin. Patches of raw meat showed through the black crusted mask. “Musashi,” he croaked, and his voice was just recognisable. Then his head dropped forward, and he died. The others from the village found Harada’s body several hours later. By that time the flames were abating, and the faint light of dawn was stronger than their fading glow.

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1 Chicago, Illinois

Blaze slept. In her dreams she was a little girl again, wandering naked through the mangrove swamps on the west coast of Costa Rica, where she had spent most of her early childhood. She had no home or family, no friends – she didn’t understand what those things were. There was no-one to guide her, teach her, or comfort her, and there hadn’t been for a long time. She remembered being different once…being part of something. But that seemed so long ago now, before the men came. Men – who killed her loved ones in front of her eyes in cold blood, then beat her fiercely and raped her until she was bruised and cut inside, almost dead. The experience had left her petrified and disturbed at the age of three. Since then, Blaze had adopted the instincts and characteristics of the wild animals living around her, and her mind had grown feral, cold, instinctive, and animalistic. She hadn’t eaten for days now, and she was starving. Suddenly, she became aware of a group of people making a commotion on the beach nearby, and moved to a position where she could see them – a man, woman and baby. Her eyes widened when she saw the baby… Maybe she’d feed on it…enough meat to fill her belly and more! Yes! I’m so hungry, I will eat anything! She watched the tourists from behind the mangrove roots for three hours as they played games and relaxed in the sun, and when she was sure the adults had fallen asleep, she crept towards them across the sand and snatched the baby from its pushchair. Holding one hand over the baby’s mouth to stop it from crying, she ran back into the swamp as fast as her legs could carry her. There, she laid the baby on the ground and violently squeezed its mouth and nostrils closed, blocking its airways and preventing it from breathing. She held them together firmly as the baby suffocated, her eyes wide, pupils dilated. She gritted her teeth and grunted as she felt the life drain out of the baby, her breathing thick and heavy, her heart racing. When she was sure it was dead, she lifted her hands away and let out a relieved sigh. Your life for mine, she thought. Time to eat! At last! Time passed. Years. Things blurred… it was difficult to concentrate…difficult to interpret. Images came in flashes, a jumble of dark figures, strange devices and pain… Wait! She thought. I…remember this place…Edgemont! When her vision focused, she found herself in the recreation room at Edgemont hospital, Los Angeles, with its familiar padded walls and ceiling. She was

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surrounded by other patients, all looking dreary eyed and doped-to-the-hairline as they tried to amuse themselves with board games, TV, and chess. “Hey Blaze!” called a familiar voice. Blaze glanced in the direction of the sound, and saw Sasha, one of the few friends she had in this place, waving to her across the room and beckoning her to come over. Blaze shuffled across the room, avoiding the stares of the other psychotics, and went to join her. “What’s up, Sash?” “What’s up? Tell me what happened!” Sasha demanded, twirling one of the pieces of her jigsaw puzzle between two fingers. “How did your hearing go?” Blaze frowned, vaguely recalling the hearing from earlier that day. With all those drugs pumped into her system, it was difficult to keep a coherent short term memory. She sat down beside Sasha, staring at the partially completed jigsaw that lay on the floor. “Not good,” she told her, “I might as well be dead. They want to wipe my fucking brain. They want to fucking burn out my personality! They think I created the memories in my head, and they want to get rid of them – against my will.” “Why?” “I don’t know. Dr. Jerrin said that the State Department has a certain priority in these matters.” “That’s bullshit,” Sasha said, keeping her voice low. “That guy’s a jerk. You’ve got rights.” Blaze gulped. The very mention of Jerrin’s name sent a wave of abhorrence through her body. Then a connective thought passed through her mind: Wait…Dr. Jerrin…was working for Mr. X! The Syndicate…it wanted to control me…now I remember… Again, things blurred. More time passed, and Blaze felt as if she were swirling through a vortex. When she readjusted, she found herself on Mr. X’s island base, machine gun in hand. She was running with Axel and Adam, heading down level D-3, on their way to the junction of D-4. “Man, oh man, what the hell are these things?” Adam screamed, firing his machine gun at a robot that awaited them. “X-Robots!” Blaze puffed. “Mr. X has set them loose! There’s hundreds of those things undergoing construction here! Come on, we have to get to the jetship hanger!” “Go!” Axel shouted, and Blaze took point. Before they’d gone a dozen metres, Blaze stopped and shook her head, a puzzled expression coming over her face. “Wait!” she said. “I’ve done this before! I swear…we destroyed this base three years ago!” “Blaze, what are you talking about?” Axel cried, shooting a robot that leapt around the corner. “Stay focused!” She ignored him. She knew she was dreaming, and that he was part of the dream. She felt lucid, and her aura swelled up inside of her. Blaze Fielding, she thought to herself. My name is Blaze Fielding. No, my name was Blaze Fielding. That life is gone now. I am not that person any longer. I am beyond human now, beyond names. I am homo superior, the first of my kind. This is how it was supposed to be! I’ve always known it! Blue energy radiated from her body and engulfed them all. It was as if the very fabric of the universe was fuelling her form, making her absolutely invincible. I’m dreaming, she thought. I can do anything. She was locked in a pulsing, endless awareness for some time.

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*** It was dark outside when Blaze woke up, but the light reflected by the moon shone through the window, casting a dull glow over the bed where she lay. She rolled her eyes, and turned to look at the alarm clock on the bedside cabinet. The digital display told her it was 0334. She groaned and swallowed in the depths of her throat, her mind reeling after the lucid dream. She felt strange, her aura lightly flowing within her. “Ooooh, fucking dreams….” she whispered to no-one in particular. She felt bad, and needed something pretty quick to fix her up. Luckily, she still had some smack left over from the party last night, so she decided to jack up and let the chemicals ease the pain. She sat up and looked around. The bedroom was adequate, enough room for a double bed, wardrobe, cabinet and hi-fi. It was joined to a larger living area, part of the apartment where she was staying here in Chicago. From outside, there was a light boom of thunder, and rain started to fall against the window. Blaze grew excited at the prospect of getting some pain relief, and fingered open the bedside cabinet’s small door. Inside was an assortment of drugs and drug-taking equipment. With wellrehearsed ease she took out what she needed and prepared a syringe with heroin. Then she found a vein on her inner left arm and stuck the needle in, shooting the plunger all the way, grunting and snorting as she brought it back up again. She tossed the syringe aside and a dark smile crept up on her lips. Fuck yeah! She felt…so much better! She was higher, more aware, and more alive! Her pain and exhaustion were washed away. She took a deep breath and made a content mewing sound, then turned over and snuggled up to her new boyfriend, John Sinclair, who lay sleeping beside her in the double bed. He was Asian, dark-haired and athletic, a photographer she had met on one of her modelling jobs. They were both naked. John stirred and opened his eyes. “B…Blaze? What time is it?” he asked. She looked into his brown eyes with a huge grin on her face. “Half past three,” she said playfully. John gave her a knowing smile. “Been shooting up without me again, baby?” “I had another dream,” she said. Then her tone changed. “I feel soooo high…” she smiled, and pulled back the bed sheet. “I’ve got an idea, tiger,” she purred, her pupils dilated so much they looked completely black. “Let’s have sex again.” She got on her knees, took his penis with her right hand, and began masturbating him. John’s smile grew wider. “You really can go on all night, can’t you, babe?” She winked at him, and his face lit up with pleasure as she bent her mouth to his penis and began performing oral sex. Blaze was buzzing with euphoria, and was losing herself now, growing more and more aroused, sucking and sliding her mouth along the shaft until it was fully erect. She felt wet, overwhelmed by the urge to be fucked by him. She allowed his penis to slide out of her mouth, and with a lustful, animalistic gaze she climbed on top of him so that her knees were either side of his groin. She bent her mouth to his and stabbed her tongue into his mouth, her shoulders arched, allowing him to push his penis into her hot, wet hole. “Fuck me!” she gagged. “Now!”

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They both gasped and looked into each others eyes as he penetrated her. They formed a rhythm, and Blaze brought her arms around his head and kissed him, her tongue sliding into his mouth, the bed rocking and creaking underneath them. “Oh, yeah!” she cried. “Fuck me, John! Fuck me harder!” He didn’t resist, increasing the speed and ferocity of his pelvic thrusting, growing more excited. He reached up and grabbed her breasts, groping them in his hands, before running his hands down over her wet buttocks. “Oh, oh, oh, yeah!” Blaze cried, her eyes closed, face flushed. “You like to fuck, huh?” John puffed. “Ooooh, I love it!” she beamed, and moved into a sitting position, legs spread wide, bouncing on him. The springs of the bed were almost snapping under the pressure. Blaze threw her head back and moaned with pleasure, sensations in her clitoris building up to bursting point. Then John cried out, reaching his climax, and grabbed hold of Blaze’s hair, yanking her head back violently as he ejaculated deep inside her. “Fuck, yeeeaah…!” he grunted. Blaze gritted her teeth, and started to orgasm herself. “Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah! Uh-huh!” She giggled like a schoolgirl, felt a gushing release, and then cried out in pleasure. “Fuck!” She collapsed on top of him. They lay there breathing heavily for a moment, contented. “That was ace,” John grinned. “Blaze, you are fucking good!” She smiled, wiping sweat from her eyes. “I know. You tell me every time!” “Because it’s true,” he laughed, running his hand affectionately down her bare back. “I’ve never met a woman with such an appetite for sex. You are fucking amazing!” She kissed him, and said, “You’re pretty good yourself.” Then she cleared her throat, pulled the bedcovers back over them and snuggled up to him. “You’re pretty good yourself, John,” she said again. “I feel much better. Now let’s get some sleep.” *** Blaze had the car window open to let in the fresh air, as she drove her red Mini Cooper 2013 down a busy street in downtown Chicago. It was her car – having recently passed her driving test, she no longer had to rely on public transport to travel between her jobs, which took place at various locations across Illinois. It was 1:45pm, and she was scheduled for a photo shoot at the Maxim offices at two o’clock. She was still several blocks away, and as she sat in traffic, waiting for a red signal to change, she wondered if she was going to make it in time. I hate traffic jams, she thought, glancing at the car’s clock. Then after another moment, the signal turned green and she was off again. She’d been living in Chicago for six months now, and her modelling career was really taking off. She was becoming somewhat of a celebrity; this photo shoot for Maxim would be the first time she’d been on a magazine cover, and her agent was currently negotiating with Playboy for a cover/centrefold contract. She’d appeared on a dozen or so TV ads, and had recently been offered a film role by a local production company. She also appeared on billboards across the US as the face of Calvin Klein fragrance products. She yawned, tired, as she turned a corner and pulled into the Maxim office parking lot. It had been a pretty intoxicating night of partying at her apartment – lots

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of sex, alcohol and drugs – but it had been worth it. She loved it when she was able to meet John out-of-hours and indulge in forbidden pleasures. It was so difficult to find time with her hectic schedule. Though she had to admit, nobody could make love to her quite like Axel Stone… The sex she’d had with Axel had been the best by far. John Sinclair was good in bed, that much was certain, but there was something about the way Axel had touched her that really made her gush. In a way, she kind of regretted leaving him. She did love Axel, but she couldn’t give him the family he always wanted, what with her being infertile due to the Syndicate experiments. Axel had expressed a desire to have a son, and it broke her heart to continue to live with him knowing she could never bear a child for him. Instead of a mother for his child, she was a genetic superwoman unable to conceive. It had been a difficult decision to leave, but she wanted Axel to be happy, and felt that he would be better off with someone else. After the Project Y incident, there was a lot of media attention surrounding Blaze’s life and the Syndicate conspiracies, and she was offered a job in Chicago as a result. She’d moved to Chicago in January 2018, milking her newfound fame, and she hadn’t looked back since. She was rich, famous, young, and free. Her life had completely turned around since she was a child, and she was positively overjoyed with the way things were going. Taking a deep breath, she switched off the car’s engine and checked her reflection in the mirror. She looked beautiful, and she knew it. She smiled and stepped outside, slamming the car door shut, then made her way across the plaza to the entrance of the building, a six-storey office tower. Showtime, she thought. The cameras were waiting.

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2 Los Angeles, California

Axel Stone waited patiently as the barman poured him his third scotch, then took the drink and knocked his head back, downing it all at once. He grimaced at the potent taste, and slammed the glass back down on the bar surface. “I’ll have another…” he wheezed, taking a second ten-dollar bill from his wallet and sliding it across the polished bar. The barman looked at the money with a concerned expression on his face and sighed. He was somewhere in his fifties, heavily overweight, with grey hair and a moustache, and had no doubt seen his fair share of alcoholics over the years. One of his eyebrows went up as he took the cash and went to pour the drink. His gaze returned to Axel as he did so. “Sure thing buddy,” he said. “But after this one you’re going to have to ease up, okay?” Axel nodded, and turned his head to the right, looking around the room. From where he sat at the bar, he could just about see the pool tables, nestled at the far end, by the entrance. They were mostly obscured from his vision, however, by the other patrons who sat at the tables around him, drinking and chatting. A thick cloud of tobacco smoke hung in the air. To his left, an old neon jukebox was cycling through its programmed numbers, and was coming to the end of the current track. It whirred as it changed disc, then Afrodisiac by Brandy began pumping out the speakers around the room. Oh no, Axel thought. Anything but this… …There is no way you are getting away I need your love every day Medicine can’t cure the way that I feel What I need is not in a pill Being without you is making me ill Stressin’ me out, I need to chill Something this strong has got to be real… You fulfil my every desire When I’m with you, you take me higher You’re my afrodisiac You’re the only one I’m needing When I go, I’ll come back ‘Cause there is no way I’m leaving… The words made him think of Blaze Fielding. He remembered the love and experiences they’d shared in their two-and-a-half years together, and the undying love he still felt for her, even now, six months after she’d left the city and their relationship had ended. It made him upset, close to tears, to think that she was no longer in his life,

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and he yearned to be with her again. Things just weren’t the same without her, and he was finding it difficult to cope. Oh, Blaze, he thought. I just can’t get over you. Axel’s mind was whirling with emotion by the time the song came to an end, only spurred on by the alcohol he had consumed, and he felt relieved and grateful when the jukebox finally changed track and began playing a rock number he didn’t recognise. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, clearing his thoughts, then took his fresh drink and knocked it back as swiftly as the last. Then, from behind him, a man’s voice said, “You’re him, right?” Axel turned. “Excuse me?” The man approached. He was young, dressed in casual clothes, holding a Budweiser bottle in his right hand. “The bodyguard…” he said, “The guy… Yeah, I saw you on TV.” He pulled up a stool and sat beside Axel. “Really?” Axel muttered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Yeah, more than once!” the man smiled and gave Axel a pat on the back. “Nice job protecting the governor, by the way. I’m Billy. So, is it true that you saved the world from nuclear war last year? I heard there was a team of people who went into a hidden base in the desert…” Axel forced a smile and nodded. “I was there, yes.” “Far out!” Billy exclaimed, taking a large gulp of beer. “So you must know Blaze Fielding, that hot chick in the Calvin Klein commercials! Man, she is so hot, I would love to…” “Look,” Axel interrupted. “Billy. I’m sorry, I’m just…not…in the mood right now to be talking about this.” He stood up. “Oh,” Billy said, disappointed. “Okay, sure, no sweat, man. Maybe some other time?” “Sure,” Axel said, and started to walk away, gathering speed. He really didn’t feel like having a conversation right now, especially not with one of Blaze’s “fans”. He made his way through the smoky atmosphere towards the exit and shoved the door open with one hand. The door swung outwards and he stepped outside onto the street, the fresh air almost overwhelming his smoke-filled lungs. He coughed violently and took a few deep breaths to replenish the oxygen supply to his body. The dark was gathering fast, and Axel considered going home, to turn in and have a good night’s sleep. Then he decided against it. There was too much going on in his mind, too much pain, and he wanted to talk to someone who would really understand. He decided to pay Max Hatchett a visit. *** Max’s house was located in Park Avenue, a quiet street at the top of a hill, overlooking Lake Balboa, not far from Hollywood. It was surrounded by palm trees and was furnished with a white picket fence. Lake Balboa was a very peaceful neighbourhood, the perfect place for someone like Max Hatchett to retire, and as Axel left the cab and walked toward the house, he appreciated the beauty of the area. Even in the dark, it looked picturesque and unique. The lights were on, which meant Max was home. Axel went through the entryway and marched across the pebble-strewn footpath to the front door. He pressed the door chime, and Max answered the door wearing a bath robe, drying his short, black hair with a hand towel.

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“Axel!” Max grinned, clearly surprised to see him. “What are you doing here so late?” “I just came by to talk…” Axel said with a solemn expression. “I’m sorry, I should have called ahead. Is this a bad time?” Max shook his head. “Oh, no no no. It’s always a good time for you, buddy. Come on in.” He stepped to one side and allowed Axel to enter the house. Axel nodded. “Thanks.” Max closed the front door and said, “I’m just finishing up after a shower. Go right on through to the lounge and make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.” He disappeared through the hallway and went upstairs. Axel went into the lounge and sat on the sofa. When Max returned, he was dressed in casual clothes, his hair neatly parted to one side. “Drink?” he asked, moving to a small drinks cabinet in one corner of the room. “Yeah, scotch on the rocks,” Axel told him. “Make it a double.” “You got it.” Max poured them each a drink and came and sat opposite Axel, setting the glasses down on the antique coffee table. “So what’s wrong, buddy?” Max asked, taking a sip of his drink. Axel sighed. “Oh, it’s Blaze,” he muttered. “It’s been six months now since we split up, and I still can’t get over her. I don’t know what to do. It’s driving me nuts.” Max frowned. “I know the feeling. When was the last time you spoke to her?” Axel took a deep breath and picked up his drink, swirling the liquid idly around the inside of the glass. “The day she left,” he said, breathing out slowly. “She said I’d be better off with someone else. She was pretty depressed…she’d started taking heroin…” Max nodded, a sympathetic expression coming over his crinkled, Romannosed features. “Yeah, I remember that. Blaze always had a thing for drugs.” “Yeah, but not like this. I think it was her genetic powers…her ‘aura’…that was driving her to escape reality. She was growing more and more disgusted with herself as time went on. Then, after an argument or two, well…” Axel took a large gulp of whiskey. “I’ve tried to call her occasionally, to see if she wanted to talk things over.” He shook his head. “She won’t return your phone calls?” Max asked. “No.” “I must admit, that does surprise me,” Max said, leaning back in his seat. “You and Blaze were so close at one point. You were a great couple.” “Tell me about it,” Axel said, taking another sip. They sat in silence for a moment. Then Max said, “Blaze seems to be doing very well for herself, these days.” Axel sighed a half laugh, and managed to smile. “She’s a celebrity now. It’s not easy to get over someone when you see their face on every billboard in the country. I’ve even had ‘fans’ coming up to me, asking me questions about her…” he shifted in his seat. Max chuckled. “Me too. I get recognised quite a lot in public now. We did save the world, after all.” Axel nodded. “I guess so. But like I said, it’s not easy.” “Have you dated any other girls in these past six months?” Max probed. “I have,” Axel admitted. Then he shook his head. “But none of them were…right for me. Blaze is the one I want.”

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“I thought you wanted kids…” Max began. “I did,” Axel interrupted, “but I wanted them with Blaze. We could have adopted, I don’t know. Blaze left before I had a real chance to talk things over with her.” “Sounds to me like you two have a lot of unfinished business. Don’t worry, Ax. You’ll see her again. “ “I hope you’re right, old friend.” Axel finished his drink and set the empty glass on the table. “I really do.” “So, how’re you finding the bodyguard job?” Max said, changing the subject. Axel smiled. “It’s good. I’ve had some pretty high profile assignments, thanks to General Petrov’s recommendation. For two months now I’ve been protecting the governor of California.” “I hear you foiled an assassination attempt…” Max began. “That’s right,” Axel answered. “Even managed to smash a drugs cartel in the process. I’ve also been involved with overseeing the restructuring of the LAPD, after Chief O’Hara was tried for treason.” Max nodded. “Good riddance to that corrupt scum. Ever considered rejoining the police force, now that it’s been set on the straight and narrow?” “I’ve thought about it,” Axel said. “But I kind of enjoy being a bodyguard. It’s quite relaxing.” Max laughed and finished his drink. “You like to relax? You should try retirement.” Axel grinned. “I always thought you’d get back into wrestling, Max, rather than retire. You were the champion, I’ll never forget the day you trounced Abadede in the ring!” “Those were the good old days,” Max agreed. “I’ve been tempted to get back into it, I must admit. I still have a lot of contacts who owe me favours. But after the whole Neo-Pharm thing, I’m kind of reluctant to get involved with the underground wrestling scene again. I don’t think I’d be welcome. Besides, I’m one of the good guys now.” Axel smiled and nodded. Max was right. Times had changed; they were both older and more experienced now, veterans of the war against Mr. X’s Syndicate. “I hear Adam Hunter joined the FBI,” Max said, smiling. “You still in contact with him?” “Of course,” Axel said. “We still keep our satellite phones with us everywhere we go, though we haven’t spoken in a few weeks. He’s living in Washington D.C. now, and has a girlfriend there, a fellow agent.” “Such a ladies man!” Max laughed. Axel nodded. “He’s doing really well for himself. Which is more than I can say for me, at least in the love department.” Max took the two empty glasses from the table and went to pour a second drink for them both. “A toast, then,” Max said, raising his glass. “To the future. May it bring us both what we want.” Axel laughed and raised his glass. “To the future.” They drank. To you, Blaze, Axel thought. She was all he really wanted.

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3 Uninvited Guest

Blaze’s apartment was on the top floor of a residential skyrise in Logan Square, a large, densely populated community northwest of Chicago’s Loop. Long home to immigrant populations, it was now predominantly Hispanic; graced with a system of tree-lined boulevards and squares, the area was bounded on the east by the Chicago River and bisected diagonally by Milwaukee Avenue, one of Chicago’s main commercial thoroughfares. She took the elevator up, watching the level indicator tick past, carrying grocery bags under each arm, and looked forward to relaxing after a long working day. The elevator stopped at level 10 and the doors slid open. Blaze took a deep breath and marched down the carpeted hallway, exchanging a polite greeting with a janitor that shuffled past with a cleaning trolley. When she reached the door to apartment 1004, she fumbled a key into the lock and let herself in. Home at last, she thought, switching the lights on and moving into the kitchen. The Maxim photo-shoot had gone well – after spending a couple of hours with makeup artists and hair stylists, she’d modelled for fifty shots in sexy lingerie, and was due to appear on the front cover of Maxim in the next issue, along with an article about her life. All in a day’s work…! She dropped the grocery bags onto a clean, polished work surface and started unpacking the items, storing them in the refrigerator. When she was finished, she made herself a glass of milk, went into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa. Then she picked up the remote and switched on the TV, changing it to CNN. A news report was unfolding. “…amid claims that the Federal government is still looking for the stolen Laxine. Both the Department of Defence and the Department of Homeland Security refused to comment. In other news, a man was killed in Japan late Thursday night, in what appears to have been another attack by the organised crime circle plaguing the area. Harada Maezumi, a seventy-two year old ninja master, was found dead in the early hours of Friday morning after a house fire in Subashiri, not far from Tokyo. Local villagers claim they heard sounds of shouting and commotion before the fire started, and the occupants of the house, said to be good friends of Mr. Maezumi, are missing. Police are treating the incident as suspicious, but would not give precise details. Similar attacks have been taking place across the region for several weeks now, and rumour abounds that the infamous Zeed group has reformed…” Blaze switched off the TV. Nothing good ever seems to happen in this world, she thought and yawned, stretching her aching muscles. She drank her milk and stood up, pulled off her blouse and skirt, then slipped out of her underwear and went to have a shower.

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As the hot water splashed over her face, Blaze ran her hands through her long brown hair and tilted her head back, allowing the heat of the shower to relax and comfort her. She lathered her hands with gel and gently rubbed them over her large breasts and along her slender arms, steam rising up around her, condensing on the white-tiled wall and shower curtain. She’d seen her fair share of the world’s horrors in her life, but it seemed to Blaze that what she’d experienced was only the tip of the iceberg, considering some of the things that went on in this world. Then again, her experience was pretty unique – she was sure no-one else had been programmed with genetic abilities that gave them superhuman powers. Or had they? Blaze brushed the thought aside, and continued to wash. When she was done, she wrapped herself in a clean towel, brushed her teeth and blow-dried her hair. Then she heard the doorbell sound, and she smiled. John Sinclair had arrived.

John was dressed in beige jeans and a crinkled shirt, and as he stepped over the threshold into the apartment, Blaze could smell his aftershave strongly on the air. He held a bouquet of red flowers in one hand, which he offered to her with a large grin on his face. “For you, Blaze,” he said. She smiled and put one hand to her chest. “For me? Oh, John, how sweet of you!” She took the bouquet and kissed him lightly on the lips. Then she went to find a vase. “Come on in.” John followed her into the living room and watched as she carefully slipped the flowers into a glass jar that sat on one of the pine cabinets. “They’re beautiful,” Blaze observed, then came and sat with him on the sofa, biting her lip, running her fingers through her hair. “I thought you’d like them,” John said. “You know,” she started, “I’m not wearing anything under this towel. I would go and get dressed and make myself more presentable, but there’s not much point…” She winked at him. “We won’t be needing clothes anyway!” John laughed, and sank back into the sofa as Blaze brought herself up against him. She kissed him, her lips lingering on his, and she stripped away the towel, exposing her naked body. John brought up his hands to cup her breasts and her mouth opened around his, her tongue carving into his mouth. The kiss was rough and passionate. “Let’s just fuck now,” Blaze breathed. “Down to business, I can do that,” John nodded, and started to pop open the buttons on his shirt, becoming aroused. But before he could finish, he jumped in fright. The sound of glass, concrete and wood violently exploding suddenly came from behind the bedroom door, followed by a loud thump as something hit the floor. CRASH! THUMP! The floor beneath them rumbled with the pressure. “Shit!” Blaze cried, startled, and fell from the sofa. She landed on the carpet head first and yelped. What the fuck was that? she thought, her mind going into overload. When her vision cleared, everything was silent again, and a cold draught was blowing from the

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direction of the bedroom. Blaze picked up the towel from the carpet and wrapped herself in it, then got to her feet. “What the fuck happened?” John was saying. “I don’t know,” Blaze told him. “It sounded like something came through the roof of the bedroom…” John nodded. “Something big.” “Fucking hell…” Blaze whispered. She stepped across the room and went to the bedroom door, and John followed her. She swallowed dryly, slightly nervous as she gripped the door handle, then took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Immediately she could tell it did not look good. A large portion of the bedroom’s roof had blown inwards with immense force, and the evening sky was visible through it. The double bed had cracked and split in two from the impact. A thick cloud of dust and splinters filled the air. There, shrouded by dust and debris, was a shadowed humanoid figure that was crouched in its landing position. There was a mechanical whirring sound, and the figure slowly raised into a standing position, towering over both of them. Blaze recognised the figure immediately. It was Dr. Zan! “Zan!” Blaze screamed. “What the fuck are you doing here? What’s going on?” She couldn’t see him very clearly through the cloud of dust, all she could make out was the dark outline of his metallic body and his glowing eyes as he turned his head to look at her. The eyes – shining a dark red colour, like the colour of blood. He looked like a fucking terminator… “Hey, your eyes…” Blaze said, and frowned. “What’s…” Before she could finish her sentence, Zan crouched and rocketed towards her, impossibly fast, stretching his arms toward her, unleashing a discharge of electrical current in her direction. “Powerup!” Blaze was taken by surprise, and bore the full force of the attack. Electrical charge surged violently through her body, scrambling her brainwaves, and for a moment she flailed like a rag doll under the sheer power of Zan’s attack. Then she fell back, and something cracked as she slammed into the door frame behind her. “Fuck!” “Blaze!” John cried, and went to kneel beside her, putting one hand on her shoulder. “No!” Then he turned to behold Zan, and through the dust he saw the unearthly red eyes bolting toward him with fierce intensity. He got to his feet – - and was suddenly hoisted into the air as Zan’s right hand clamped around his head and lifted him clear of the floor. He screamed. His legs were flailing, his arms trying desperately to claw at the huge robotic fist that held him in its grasp. He couldn’t see – and now Zan’s fist was squeezing his head, and it was beginning to hurt. “No!” he squealed. “Stop! Stooooopp!” Zan ignored him, continuing to exert pressure, and after another moment John’s skull cracked and split. He spluttered blood, and one of his eyeballs popped out of its socket. He screamed again, the sound a liquid gurgle. Zan squeezed harder still, and then suddenly the head imploded. There was a dull crunching sound and a spurting of blood. John’s body went limp, and Zan tossed it aside without bothering to look.

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Dazed, Blaze tried to get to her feet, but she winced and fell back down as a tearing pain shot through her left shoulder. Something was broken… She turned her head to look at Zan, saw his blood-stained hand covered in dark flecks of meat, saw John’s headless corpse slumped against the opposite wall, and she screamed. “Dr. Zan!” she wailed. “What are you doing? Don’t you know who I am!?” Zan took one step towards her and cocked his head to one side. “Of course,” he said, his metallic voice booming. “You are Blaze Fielding. The First One. The renegade.” “First One? What are you talking about?” she screamed. “It’s me! Blaze!” The last thing she saw was the blur of his red eyes charging towards her.

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4 Something Sinister

One. Two three. Four five six. Eddie “Skate” Hunter held his right leg in the air, kicking back and forth against a padded crash dummy. The dummy was fixed in place by a pair of steel rods that protruded at an angle from the floor of the training room, and it absorbed the impact of the kicks well. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his vest was damp; even with the air conditioning in the dōjō turned up to its highest setting, a training session like this one always made him work up a sweat. It wasn’t a problem though – if he was sweating, it meant he was working hard. He wanted to be strong, like Axel maybe, and only through intense training could that be possible. He grunted, concentrating his energy on the kicking. A year earlier he had joined a team led by Axel Stone to rescue General Petrov, and in Iceland they had faced an onslaught of X-Robots – insane killing-machine androids created by an evil madman who wanted to take over the world. Then he had faced Robot Y, a technological behemoth that was as terrifying as it was massive. The whole experience had shocked Skate to the core, and had really forced him to rethink the care-free life he had been living up until that point. He figured he needed to be a strong, level-headed fighter, if he ever stood a chance of defending himself in this fucked-up world, and he wasn’t getting any younger. He’d recently turned twenty and by learning kickboxing, like his older brother Adam, he would soon become one of the big boys and know no fear! …twenty-eight. Twenty-nine thirty. Thirty-one thirty-two thirty-three… Skate was living in his own apartment here in LA now, and had a job as a general labourer working at local construction sites. He hadn’t decided what kind of career he wanted to pursue yet; he had originally considered joining the police force, but after the stories he’d heard about its corruption, he was discouraged somewhat. For the past few months he had just been concentrating all his energy on training, without giving much thought to anything else. When the muscles in his right leg could take no more, Skate brought his foot down to the ground and relaxed. He’d managed fifty controlled kicks, a new personal record. He smiled to himself, catching his breath, then picked up his water bottle from the floor and took a well earned gulp. He closed his eyes as the cool liquid trickled down his parched throat, his heart still racing. I love a good workout, he thought. He stretched his arms, deciding that he would next work on his biceps, then walked across the training room towards the weightlifting area. When he got there, he was surprised to see Max Hatchett lying on his back using the bench press. The steel

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bar was loaded with 150 kilograms, distributed evenly at each end, and Max was heaving the bar up and down quite easily. “Hey Max,” Skate called, and took another sip of water. He wiped his mouth. “I didn’t know you were in here. How’s it going?” Max exhaled heavily, and hoisted the bar onto its resting hooks. He sat up, red in the face, and turned to look at Skate. “Hey, man! I’m good, how ‘bout you?” “Cool, cool,” Skate replied and nodded. “I’m really getting into my training now, started coming up here most days after work…” He picked up a pair of 16kg dumbbells, one in each hand, and began curling his arms up and down to throttle his biceps. He looked at Max with a curious expression and said, “Just how much can you handle on that bench press, exactly?” Max grinned. “Two hundred kilos. But that’s fucking tough.” “Jesus,” Skate laughed, the sound a hissing cough under the exertion of the dumbbells. “I can only handle sixty kilos on that thing. That means you’re over three times stronger than I am. Jesus, Max.” Max chuckled. “Yeah, well I’m almost twice your age. That’s got to count for something.” He went to lay under the bar again and gripped it firmly. He unhooked it, brought it to bear over his rippling chest muscles, then roared and forced it upward with his huge arms, going into a fresh rep of ten. When he got to six, he heard Skate say, “Well here’s a turnout - Axel’s just arrived.” “You’re kidding!” Max smiled, and hooked the bar up again. He sat up and looked at where Skate was pointing, and there, sure enough, was Axel Stone, walking in past the reception desk, his eyes scanning the training room as though he were looking for someone… “Axel!” Max cried. “Over here!” Axel spotted them and waved, starting to approach. He was holding his satellite phone in one hand, his expression grim. “He doesn’t look too happy,” Skate observed. Max nodded in agreement, but didn’t say anything. When Axel reached them, he said, “Guys, I’ve had a call from Adam.” He gulped in the depths of his throat. “Something sinister is going on, and he needs our help, right now…” “Something sinister?” Skate echoed, and frowned. “What is it, buddy?” Max asked, growing concerned. “What’s Adam got himself into now?” Axel clenched his jaw muscles and took a deep breath through his nose, then blew it out between closed teeth. “It’s Blaze,” he muttered, visibly shaken. “She’s being held hostage at her apartment in Chicago – by our old friend Dr. Zan.” Skate dropped the dumbbells and turned to give Axel his full attention. “What?” Axel shook his head. “I don’t know the full details. Adam said that the FBI has the apartment building surrounded, and so far, all attempts to go in and neutralise Zan have failed. The siege has been going on for several hours now, and the rest of the building has been evacuated. Blaze is injured, so they can’t risk using heavier weapons…” “I don’t understand,” Skate said. “I thought Zan was laying low in Germany… Why would he do such a thing? He and Blaze were friends, weren’t they? He was a good man!” Axel nodded. “I know, I know. This whole thing stinks.” “What’re his demands?” Max asked, raising an eyebrow.

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“He wants us,” Axel said bluntly. “The other team members who took down the Syndicate, to meet him face-to-face. Adam’s already on his way here to pick us up by helicopter. He’ll be arriving within the hour.” “He wants us…” Max repeated, trying to get his head round the idea. He shook his head. “That just doesn’t make any sense. Why resort to such extreme measures just to put the band back together?” “Like I said, I don’t know the full details,” Axel reminded him. “We’ll find out more when Adam gets here.” *** The FBI helicopter hovered over the dōjō’s parking lot, whipping up dust in a frenzy. Adam Hunter pulled open the side door, dressed in full assault gear, and threw down a rope ladder. It uncoiled and fell within two feet of the tarmac. “Climb aboard!” he shouted. Axel, Max and Skate were standing on the ground directly beneath the helicopter, where they had been waiting for its arrival for almost twenty minutes. Axel shielded his eyes from the torrent of dust, and grabbed the rope ladder, then hoisted himself up onto it. It swayed in the air for a moment as it adjusted to the extra weight, then when it stabilised, he began to ascend. Max and Skate were right behind him. Within moments they were all safely aboard, and Adam retracted the ladder then slid the side door shut. “Okay, go,” Adam said to the pilot, and the helicopter pulled away, banking to the east, making its way out of the city. None of them spoke for a moment. “Hi Adam,” Skate said, grinning. “Bit of a reunion we’ve got going on here, huh?” Adam looked at him and frowned. “I’m afraid it’s a little more serious than that, Skate. Thirteen people are dead.” Skate’s smile vanished. “Okay, my bad.” “Thirteen?” Max muttered. “Crap.” “At best speed, it will take three hours to reach Chicago,” Adam said, “not counting stops for fuel. You’d better get yourselves strapped in.” He turned to Axel and gave him a bear hug. “Ax…Good to see you again, partner. I only wish the circumstances could have been better…” Axel nodded. “Yeah. I have to admit Adam, this situation seems totally fucked up.” They sat and strapped themselves in. Adam took firearms from a supply container and handed them all a weapon, then finally sat down himself. “We’re going in armed?” Axel said. Adam nodded. “Standard issue submachine guns, armour-piercing 10mm rounds. Better safe than sorry. Zan’s managed to kill twelve FBI agents who attempted to take him down by force. I’ll feel much safer with a gun.” “You said that thirteen people have been killed,” Max chirped in. Adam looked at him, then shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Erm, yes. The other fatality is a mister John Sinclair, Blaze’s …erm… boyfriend.” Axel’s eyes widened, and he seemed to withdraw into himself. He had no idea that Blaze had been seeing other guys…

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“Blaze has been seriously wounded,” Adam continued. “It’s understood that her condition is critical…she needs medical attention soon – but Zan won’t let that happen until he’s spoken to us, personally. That’s the only thing he has demanded.” “Why is he doing this?” Max asked. “Why go to this extreme?” Adam shook his head. “I really couldn’t say. It seems he entered the building by jumping from an aeroplane flying below radar. My guess is, he’s either working for or being controlled by someone else.” “So we’re most likely walking into a trap,” Max said, and the words brought a bitter taste to his mouth. “I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who want us dead…” “We have no choice,” Axel blurted. “Blaze needs our help! We can’t just sit by and do nothing. Besides, we know Zan. I think we’re the best people in the world to deal with this.” Adam nodded. “Exactly. Who knows, maybe we can reason with Zan, talk to him… whatever’s happened to him since we last saw him… surely he won’t have forgotten what we went through together. He has a high capacity for logic, after all.” Max shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t know, guys. If he’s killed thirteen people, then we can already be pretty sure his personality has changed at a fundamental level. He is a cyborg…he could have been reprogrammed.” “So what’s the plan?” Axel asked, checking the feed on his submachine gun. It was fully loaded. He placed the weapon to one side and folded his arms. “We go into the building alone,” Adam said. “We talk to Zan, try to get him to come clean. If the shit hits the fan, we’ll have no choice but to take him down. Then we get Blaze the hell out of there. An ambulance is already standing by.” Skate’s heart rate increased dramatically as he considered what they were about to be getting themselves into. Twelve trained FBI agents killed! Fucking hell! His breathing came in shallow gasps, and he tried to steady his nerves by forcing deep breaths. “You okay, Skate?” Adam asked. “I hate to drag you into something like this…” Skate nodded. “I’m fine, bro. Maybe a little nervous. I’ve been training myself up for something like this to happen, just didn’t expect it to be today, that’s all. “ “Welcome to my life,” Adam said cynically. Then his gaze went to Axel. “What about you, Ax? How’re you coping?” Axel opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and shook his head. After another moment he muttered, “I’d rather not talk about it. Let’s just concentrate on the mission for now.” “Understood,” Adam said. One hour later, the helicopter arrived at Colorado Springs, not far from Denver, and there it made a short stop to refuel for the final leg of the journey. They took the opportunity to have a short break and broke out some rations, then they were off again, next stop: Chicago.

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5 Hostage Situation

The helicopter circled in the air above Logan Square, the afternoon sun reflecting from its black, bulky exterior. It touched down on the police-blockaded street outside the apartment building and the side door rolled open, then Adam jumped out, followed by Axel, Max and Skate, all kitted out in combat gear and carrying submachine guns, ready for action. An FBI agent dressed in a brown suit ran to meet them, and shook Adam’s hand vigorously. “Agent Hunter,” he said, raising his voice over the sound of the helicopter’s rotor blades. “Welcome back!” Adam smiled grimly and patted the younger agent on the back. “Thanks, Murphy. My trip was successful… has there been any change in the situation while I was gone?” Murphy shook his head. “No. Zan is still up there.” Adam nodded, and gestured towards the others. “Murphy, I want you to meet Axel Stone, Max Hatchett, and Skate Hunter – my own brother! Guys, this is Special Agent Robert Murphy, my new partner in the FBI. He’s an okay guy – saved my neck more than once.” “A pleasure to meet you,” Murphy said, shaking hands with all three of them. He was of medium build, and had short brown hair brushed into a side parting. He looked young but capable. “Adam’s told me some… interesting stories about you.” Axel laughed. “I’m sure he has…” “Follow me, please.” The four of them followed Agent Murphy as he led them round to the front entrance of the apartment building. The street was filled with stationary police cruisers and FBI cars, SWAT vans and ambulances, the emergency services here in full force. The air around them was bustling with the sounds of cops shouting commands and preparations being made, and for a moment, as Axel took in the scene around him, he missed his old days back in the LAPD. They reached the large double doors that served as the building’s main entrance, and Adam took a deep breath. “Okay, guys. This is it.” Skate gritted his teeth. “I’m ready.” Max nodded. “Let’s do this.” “We’ll need to make our way to the top floor,” Adam told them, “Zan is holding Blaze in apartment 1004.” “Mind if I take point?” Axel asked, turning the safety off on his weapon and toggling on the infrared scope. “By all means,” Adam said, spreading his arms wide. “You’re a natural when it comes to combat.” Voices came over Murphy’s walkie-talkie, and he barked a reply. Then he turned to them and said, “Okay, you’re clear to go in. Good luck.”

308

*** Having been evacuated, the interior of the apartment building was ominously quiet. They moved past the reception desk and went through the main lobby swiftly, with Axel in front and Adam bringing up the rear. They moved silently and methodically, each of them determined to resolve this preposterous situation quickly. As they turned a corner and reached the elevator, Axel stopped and frowned. “I’m thinking we should take the stairs,” he said. Adam turned his head to look at him and nodded. “That way. Keep going.” Axel returned the nod and led them down the next corridor to an open stairwell. “Double time it,” he whispered. “Let’s go.” They hurried up the stairs. When they reached the 10th floor, they saw that the hallway door had been blown off its hinges and was hanging limply across the threshold. They stepped over into the hallway, and they could see the remains of a fire fight. Bullet holes were pocked all over the walls, and part of the roof was on fire. Used shotgun cartridges littered the carpeted floor, alongside the corpses of four FBI agents, covered in blood and first-degree burns. They could see the dead, horrified stares on the faces of three of them, but the fourth body was burned beyond recognition, little more than ash... “The last team we sent in…” Adam observed dryly. “Yeah, this is definitely Zan’s handiwork,” Max said, examining one of the bodies. Axel motioned for them to stop. “Heads up, guys, we’ve got company.” At the opposite end of the hallway, not fifty yards from where they were standing, a shadow had appeared over the wall, a large figure moving in one of the rooms ahead of them. Then Dr. Zan emerged from the doorway to 1004, stepping into the middle of the hallway, his huge robotic body silhouetted in the light of the fire. His eyes were glowing an intense, dark red colour. He turned to regard them and grinned like a thing out of hell. “Dr. Zan!” Adam howled. “It’s us!” Zan said nothing. He raised his eyebrows and started to approach, his heavy, metal feet plodding on the floorboards. Axel raised his weapon and trained the infra-red dot on Zan’s chest. “Zan, stay where you are! I want some answers. Just what the hell is going on here? What have you done to Blaze?” Zan stopped. He cocked his head to one side, and his metallic voice boomed: “Greetings, Axel Stone. Blaze Fielding is alive. But not for long. Now that you’re all here, I can finally complete my mission.” There was a whirring sound from inside his body, then something clicked into place. “Good-bye,” he roared, then raised his arms. They heard the sound of something charging up inside him, some kind of energy overload. Whatever it was, it sounded powerful – and dangerous. “Fuck! He’s going to blow himself up!” Skate yelled. “And take the whole building with him!” Max added. “I knew it!” Adam swallowed dryly and nodded. “So much for negotiations…” “Open fire!” Axel shouted, then gritted his teeth and pulled the trigger on his submachine gun. The 10mm rounds thundered towards Zan and hit him directly in the chest plate.

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Adam, Max and Skate unleashed hell with their weapons, joining Axel in the hail of gunfire. Zan stumbled back, the armour-piercing rounds riddling his armour. The charging sound was still increasing, unfazed by their attack… “It’s no use,” Max was saying. “We’re going to have to take out his control systems! Aim for the head! It’s the only way!” Axel’s adrenaline surged. He knew that Max was right – the only way they would be able to stop Zan would be to take out his control systems before the overload reached critical mass. He knelt to the ground, brought his aim to the side of Zan’s cranium, then squeezed off fire. There was a spluttering of blood as the rounds found their mark at Zan’s temple and blew the side of his head off. There was a loud hissing sound, and gas started venting from Zan’s exposed CPU. With a groan of straining metal, his red eyes flickered and went out, then he collapsed heavily to the floor. The sound of the overload in his chest began to diminish, then went silent. Zan was dead. The hallway was filled with smoke, a hot, oily stench tainting the air, and they looked around at each other’s faces, horrified at what they had just been forced to do. Max went to Zan’s bullet-riddled body and knelt to examine it, then gave a thumbsup. “We’re clear,” he told the others. Axel lowered his weapon and wiped sweat from his brow. “Dammit. I had hoped that wouldn’t be necessary,” he said. Then he shook his head and raced along the burning hallway, ducking through the door to apartment 1004. Inside, he saw Blaze laying face-down on the living room floor, naked and unconscious, covered in blood. She was bruised and battered, and looked extremely worse for wear. “Blaze!” he cried. He knelt beside her and checked her pulse. The heartbeat was slow and erratic, and she wasn’t breathing. “Adam!” he called, turning back to the hallway. “Get the paramedics up here stat! She’s not breathing!” “I’m on it!” he heard Adam shout. Axel turned Blaze over so that she was laying on her back, and bent to perform mouth-to-mouth. He squeezed her nostrils together, angled her head back, and puffed air into her dry, open mouth. Tears filled his eyes, emotional pain thundering through his system as he tried to revive her, pressing his hands between her breasts and trying to force air out of her lungs. Then he repeated the procedure, blowing air into her mouth. “Breathe!” he hissed. Skate came into the living room behind Axel then, and a look of dread and horror came over his face when he saw Blaze. “Breathe, dammit!” Axel said again, tears streaming down his cheeks. He bent to blow air into her mouth again – - and Blaze coughed violently, spluttered, and inhaled a lungful of air in one sharp, involuntary spasm. “Good girl!” Axel stammered, and cradled her to his chest. “Good girl!” “A…Axel?” Blaze moaned deliriously, her eyes closed. Then she lost consciousness again. Axel, shaking all over from the adrenaline and emotions filling his body, gently laid her down and set her into the recovery position. “I think she’s going to make it,” he said, and smiled through his tears. “She’s breathing on her own now, at least.”

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Skate looked at Axel and mirrored his smile. After a moment, Adam and Max stepped into the room and stood beside Skate. Adam said, “Well, paramedics are on their way up. Well done, guys, we did it.” Axel nodded. “Yeah, looks that way.” “I still have a lot of unanswered questions,” Max said thoughtfully. “Like who Zan was working for…” Adam swallowed dryly. “Well, he isn’t going anywhere in a hurry. Maybe we still have a chance to find out.”

311

6 Washington D.C.

Blaze stirred and swallowed in the depths of her throat, slowly drifting out of unconsciousness. Thoughts began to jump through her mind, but they were erratic and incoherent. Everything seemed dark, whirling, tumultuous, and for a moment she felt overwhelmingly lost and confused… The sensation seemed to go on for a lucid eternity… With a jolting, painful shock, she suddenly realised that she was no longer immersed in confusion, but she was aware, thinking, and feeling. Like waking from a long, deep meditation, she was slowly beginning to acknowledge her ego again. She suddenly became aware of her own body, that she was laying on her back… and another sudden, tearing wave of agony seemed to pass over her in the darkness… S…So weak… Her breathing came in short ragged sniffs, and when she pulled apart her dry lips and inhaled deeply through her open mouth, the air was cold, pure, oxygen-rich. The darkness clustering her mind faded slightly, her head throbbing with exhaustion. She heard noises in the distance, a familiar, ambient mixture of talking, movement, and machinery. Using every ounce of strength she had, Blaze managed to open her eyes and tried to see where she was, but the intensity of the light and colours that invaded her pupils overwhelmed her. She closed her eyes again, dazzled, then tried to look a second time. This time she squinted, trying to force her eyes to adjust, and as the seconds ticked past, the blurs of colour and motion around her began to take shape. Doctors…nurses…w…where? She tried to turn her head to her right, but found that she couldn’t - then she realised she had a plastic oxygen mask over her mouth. Tentatively, she brought up her right arm and pulled it off, gasping, then allowed her head to move unrestricted, ignoring the spasms of pain issuing from her neck and shoulder muscles. She was in a hospital, that much she could figure out – having spent ten years of her life at Edgemont Psychiatric she was pretty damn certain of it. As her vision continued to steady itself, she began to make out the image of an intravenous line prepped beside the bed. Next to that, she could see a man sitting in a chair, looking at her. He seemed familiar… “Blaze?” the man was saying. “Are you awake? Can you hear me?” She recognised the voice immediately. “A…Axel…?” she groaned. “Is that you?” “I’m here, baby. Everything’s going to be okay,” he said. Blaze felt a wave of affection for him as he spoke. He was like a beacon of light shining for her in the darkness, and his presence made her feel safe and protected. “Axel…” she whispered. “Where am I?”

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“You’re safe,” he reassured her. “You’re at the General Hospital in Washington D.C. You’re going to have to stay here for a few more days until you’re fit and strong again. You’ll pull through, don’t worry about that.” Dumbly, she managed a nod, then sighed and closed her eyes again. “What happened?” she asked. “Don’t you remember?” Blaze frowned. She cast her mind back, trying to recall her most recent memories. The Maxim photo shoot…home…John… “I…” she muttered, licking her lips. “Yes…yeah. One moment everything was fine, the next…” She clenched her jaw as another wave of pain jolted through her. “It was Dr. Zan.” Axel nodded. “Do you happen to remember anything specific?” Blaze swallowed. “There was a noise… Zan came in through the ceiling… his eyes… not right… his eyes…” she started to drift away… “Blaze, stay with me.” Axel put his hand on her arm, and the sensation brought her back to reality. Her eyes opened again and she turned to look at him. “He attacked me!” she hissed, with a sudden strength born of terror that almost made Axel jump. “He attacked me, and killed John! Then…” she shook her head. “The next thing I remember is hearing your voice, Axel. How did you…I mean how…” “It seems that Zan was reprogrammed,” Axel explained. “He was holding you hostage – as bait. Managed to kill thirteen people.” “Bait?” she echoed. “For what?” Axel took a deep breath. “Us. The team that took out Mr. X’s Syndicate. Zan’s mission was to eliminate us, himself included. Luckily, we managed to stop him.” Blaze blinked. “How? What happened?” Axel hesitated. “Tell me!” He bent closer to her ear, and spoke in a whisper. “We were forced to open fire. He’s dead.” A shocked expression came over Blaze’s face. “Oh. Zan’s dead? Oh, this is horrible…” Axel nodded. “Yeah, I don’t feel good about it. But it was the only way - we had only seconds to spare.” Blaze nodded. “So who was he working for?” “We still don’t know yet,” he told her. “Adam has arranged for Zan’s body to be sent to the FBI headquarters, here in Washington. He’s going to try and link him up to the computers there, see if any of his programming remains intact. We should be able to download the information, if it’s still there.” “Axel…” she said, then put her hand on his. She managed a smile. “Thanks. Thanks for coming for me I mean…” “Hey,” he smiled. “No need to thank me. I know we haven’t spoken in a long time, Blaze, but you should know, I still have strong feelings for you. I still love you.” She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again and smiled. “Hold me,” she pleaded. His arms embraced her softly, and they hugged.

***

313

The J. Edgar Hoover Building gleamed in the midday sun as Axel crossed Pennsylvania Avenue and walked toward it. The building was large, nestled in a busy tree-lined plaza, and served as the main headquarters for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, here in Washington D.C. He glanced at his watch and saw that he was making good time. It was ten minutes past twelve; he had promised the others that he’d be there by twelve thirty. As he went through the main entrance and swiped his access card to pass through security, he thought of Blaze, who he’d been forced to leave back at the hospital. She was lucky to be alive – after Zan’s ferocious attack, she’d suffered thirddegree burns, a broken shoulder, one punctured lung and massive internal haemorrhaging. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Axel’s last-minute intervention, she might very well have died back there. He was relieved, and thanked God that he’d kept up on his emergency first-aid training. Blaze still meant a hell of a lot to Axel, and he was damned if he was going to let anything bad happen to her. He pressed the elevator call button at the end of the corridor, and stepped inside, taking it down to level B3. B3 was filled with laboratories and testing rooms used in forensics processing, and was usually restricted to authorised FBI personnel only. But Axel, Max and Skate had been given the necessary clearance temporarily by Adam, so that they could join him in studying the remains of Dr. Zan… The elevator doors whispered open at B3, and Axel marched down the metal catwalk to the closed pressure door labelled, Lab 4C He swiped his access card, allowed the robotic sensor to perform its scan of his retina, and the door raised, permitting him into the lab. Inside, he saw Adam standing with Max and Skate, examining a holographic computer readout, engaged in conversation. Beside them, Agent Murphy was stooped over Zan’s exoskeleton, a welding mask pulled over his face, blowtorch in hand, carefully working on a section of the armour. Sparks flew. “Hey guys,” Axel called. “How’s it going?” Adam turned. “Hey, Ax. Welcome back. Is Blaze okay?” Axel nodded. “Yeah, she’s going to pull through. She’s a strong woman.” He smiled. Murphy switched off the blowtorch and pulled his mask up. “You’re just in time, Axel,” he said. “My repairs are just about complete.” “Repairs?” Axel said, raising his eyebrows. Adam grinned. “Murphy’s quite the technical wizard.” “Yes. Zan’s CPU was heavily damaged, but luckily for us, not completely unsalvageable,” Murphy told him. “I’ve made a few modifications, connected up some replacement components and welded titanium plating over his exposed skull. Now, if we link him up to the computer, we should be able to access his systems.” “Good. Then let’s get started.” Axel moved to join them. Deep down, he hoped that they would be able to find the information they were looking for… Murphy nodded, and went to a supply drawer, fishing out a length of black cable. He fitted one end to a port at the back of Zan’s head, then plugged the other end into the computer at the desk. He jumped into the desk’s chair, slid along on its wheels and entered a series of commands on the console.

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“It will take the computer a few moments to establish a link with Zan’s neural net,” he said. They gathered around the computer in an expectant hush. After another moment, the computer beeped, and Murphy said, “All right, connection established.” The holographic readout displayed a vast dump of obscure machine code, scrolling rapidly. “What have we got here?” Axel asked. “Looks like Zan’s Operating System remains intact,” Max observed. Then he squinted his eyes. “It’s pretty complicated stuff.” Murphy grinned, punching buttons. “Hey, this is child’s play. Running a complete diagnostic…Hold on, wait a second…” “What is it?” Skate asked. Murphy took a deep breath, keeping his eyes on the display, then tapped a few more buttons and said, “I don’t understand.” The holographic display before them started to flicker and diminish. The lights in the lab turned off, then came back on again. “What’s going on?” Axel demanded. Murphy shook his head. “This can’t be possible. It’s Zan – somehow he’s drawing power from the system. I can’t shut it off…” Axel turned to look at Zan. The skin on the dead man’s face was ghostly white, blood-stained, one side of his head encased in titanium. “I thought he was dead!” “He is!” Murphy shouted. “At least…well, I don’t know. This is Syndicate technology…it’s difficult to be sure…” “You’re telling me there’s still a chance he could wake up!?” Axel yelled in disbelief. His right hand went to his flexiskin holster and pulled out his 9mm. “I don’t know…” Suddenly, as the room’s lights darkened again, there was a loud crunching of metal, and Zan’s body slowly raised up in the blackness. “Holy Shit!” Skate exclaimed. The light in the room returned then, and they saw Zan sitting there, turning his head to look at them, his eyes glowing red. “Don’t move!” Axel screamed, training his sights on Zan. Adam ran to the far wall and grabbed carbines from the security bulkhead, tossing weapons to Max, Murphy and Skate. Two seconds later they had Zan surrounded. The dead flesh on his face crinkled, some of it falling off in lumps. “Jesus, he’s like a fucking zombie!” Skate moaned. “This is impossible,” Adam hissed. “He’s a cyborg. He can’t survive without his biological components…he shouldn’t be able to do anything, let alone sit up!” They stared with fascination and horror then, as Zan’s mouth opened – - and he spoke, his metallic voice sounding darker and more sinister than they had known it in the past, a blurring gargle of static and microphone. The words hit Axel Stone with the icy force of an avalanche. “I still function.”

315

7 A Threat Revealed

“Stay where you are! Don’t move!” Axel shouted. He had his 9mm aimed at Zan’s head, and if the cyborg made any false moves, he would have no choice but to open fire. “I…I can’t move…” The red glow of Zan’s eyes seemed to intensify, and his head turned to regard the other humans that surrounded him: Adam, Murphy, Skate and Max – all in a state of high alert, pointing weapons at him. Zan sneered, the decaying zombie-like flesh on his face creasing and splitting. “I must complete my mission!” he roared. Suddenly, there was a faint, electronic whirring sound from inside his torso, and something shorted out. Bright orange sparks erupted from his chestplate and fizzled out. “Error…” Zan boomed. “Anomaly…Primary systems failure. Attempting to activate secondary systems…” More sparks flew from his chestplate. “Error…” “Don’t bother,” Murphy told him. “Your internal destruct mechanism has been damaged beyond repair. I took the liberty of deactivating your backup systems, too. You can’t self-detonate.” Zan cocked his head to one side and seemed to sigh in defeat. “It would appear you are correct,” he boomed. “I…I cannot complete my mission. I have failed.” “Yeah, damn right you’ve failed,” Axel said menacingly. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Zan, why the hell are you trying to kill us?” Zan was silent for a moment. Then he turned to Axel and said, “You are the primary targets…” “We’re your friends!” Skate blurted in frustration. “Don’t you remember what we went through together? Rescuing the General…taking out the Syndicate…Robot Y?!?” Zan’s head jolted to the left, the red glow of his eyes fluctuating. There was a clicking noise, followed by a rasping thud. “Anomaly,” he said again. “Memory system loophole. Fatal exception.” Then he frowned. “I’m confused.” “Zan,” Adam said in a calm, collected voice. “Doctor, look, it’s all right.” He lowered his weapon and took one step towards him. “You’ve been reprogrammed. Obviously whoever’s behind this has blocked you from accessing your own memories.” A look of shock horror came over Zan’s putrid features. He was shaking his head rapidly now, bits of flesh crumbling off in flakes. “I…cannot…remember…system error…” Axel frowned and lowered his weapon, then turned his head to look at Murphy. “Hey, can you reverse the effects of this reprogramming? We’re not going to get anything out of him while he’s like this…”

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Murphy nodded. “I…erm…I think so.” He went to the computer control console and punched buttons, bringing up Zan’s Operating System on the holographic display. Max went to join him. Zan, still connected to the system through the cable at the back of his cranium, cried: “What are you doing?” “Relax,” Adam said. “We’re trying to help you. We’re going to remove some hostile programming that’s causing the problems with your internal systems, okay?” Zan nodded, a confused look in his red eyes. Murphy took a deep breath of air as he rapidly punched commands into the console. “Here we are,” he said. Several dozen lines of code lit up on the holographic display before them, the computer beeping. “Looks like some kind of computer virus regulating his internal memory access,” Max observed. “Pretty slick stuff.” Murphy nodded. “It’s a blanket program, with 512-bit encryption. Whoever designed it was one hell of a professional.” “You sure you can get rid of this?” Max asked, staring at the code. “No,” Murphy said bluntly. “But I’ll give it my best shot…” He got to work, using a tracer function to track the blanket program’s activities. Then he set the computer to delete all traces of it without damaging the memory remnants beneath. After another moment he grinned and said, “There. It’s done. The blanket program has been removed.” “Great work, buddy!” Max exclaimed, and gave Murphy a solid pat on the back. Axel exhaled with relief, and watched as Zan’s red, glowing eyes slowly faded back to their original, human-like appearance. The eyes closed, and Zan’s head lowered. Murphy and Max stepped away from the computer console and came to join Axel, Skate and Adam. “Zan?” Axel called. “Can you hear me?” There was a tense silence, and for a moment Axel thought Zan was dead again. Then the head raised wearily, and Zan blinked open his eyes. “It worked,” Zan muttered, his eyes darting side to side. “I remember everything now…” Then a look of shame and disgrace came over his corpse-like features. “Axel…I’m so sorry…I hope you can forgive me…” Axel shook his head. “Forget it, doc. You haven’t been yourself. You were reprogrammed. What’s important is, we’ve got the real you back.” Zan nodded, avoiding his gaze. “Perhaps. But still…I can’t help but feel bad for what’s happened…tell me, how is Ms. Fielding? Is she alive?” “Blaze is fine,” Axel told him. “She’s going to make a full recovery. What about you?” “Yeah man, how are you feeling?” Skate asked. Zan looked at him and smiled. “Skate.” Then he turned to look at the others. “Adam…Max… it’s good to see you all again.” He made a mechanical coughing sound. “But it’s dark here. I’m afraid I’m not what I used to be. I have sustained heavy damage…” “Zan,” Axel interrupted. “You were reprogrammed, and sent to destroy us. It’s important that you tell us everything that you know.” Zan nodded. “Of course. Yes. I will…try to tell you everything. It’s…difficult…” “Start from the beginning,” Adam told him. “What happened to you?”

317

“I was kidnapped,” Zan explained. “By Leon Shiva.” “Shiva?” Axel hissed. “Shiva?” Murphy echoed. “Isn’t he the guy I read about in your Project Y mission report…like, some kind of right-hand man to Mr. X?” “Yes,” Zan answered. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but he’s not dead. Far from it, in fact.” “But how?” Skate asked, confused. “Blaze shot him to shit with a machine gun. I watched his guts spray with my own eyes.” “He was not killed,” Zan said. “Injured, yes, crippled, yes. He lives now thanks to a cyborg lower body…” “I do not like where this is going…” Max muttered. “What’s he up to?” Axel asked. He was pretty pissed off with the fact that Shiva was still alive, and he knew that Blaze wouldn’t take lightly to the news either. “Shiva has reformed the Syndicate, and has entered into an alliance with the powerful Japanese organisation, ‘Neo Zeed,’” Zan said. “Along with various other cartels and cutthroat groups, they have formed an international criminal conglomerate known as ‘The New Syndicate’.” Axel sighed. “Son of a bitch. Go on.” Zan’s head whirred as he continued speaking. “Shiva is working his way to the top of the New Syndicate, using the nuclear warheads left over from the Project Y incident as his bargaining chip. He intends to control everything, including Neo Zeed.” “I’ve heard about this ‘Neo Zeed’ group,” Max said. “They’re said to be a group of criminal Ninja clans operating out of Japan. Recently reformed, but extremely dangerous.” “Yeah, I’ve seen the news reports,” Axel nodded. “You are correct,” Zan said. “Neo Zeed is indeed comprised of Ninja warriors. Highly skilled. Trained killers. The organisation is controlled by a man known only as “The Hand.”“ Adam raised an eyebrow. “The Hand, eh? Sounds familiar…” “It should do, Mr. Hunter. The Hand is an internationally renowned terrorist linked to various anarchistic groups, and he is wanted in thirteen countries for crimes against humanity.” “Okay, back up a step here Zan,” Axel insisted, holding his palms out in front of him as he spoke. “What exactly is the purpose of this so-called ‘New Syndicate’? What is Shiva trying to achieve here?” Zan frowned. “He still follows the original goal of his predecessor, Mr. X. He wants to implement a global ‘revolution’, no doubt using nuclear terrorism as his means to an end. I have no doubt that Shiva intends to use the nuclear weapons, and soon.” “Great,” Axel said sarcastically. “That’s just fucking great.” “Things just went from bad to worse,” Adam agreed. Zan continued to elaborate. “Somehow, Shiva managed to find me at my safehouse in Germany. He paralysed me with a remote control unit, took me to one of their labs in Berlin, and reprogrammed me to eliminate the team that foiled their plans twice before.” Max nodded. “He didn’t want us getting in the way of his plans. What a bastard. The man doesn’t change.”

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Skate licked his lips and swallowed dryly, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, look on the bright side, guys. At least his attempt to kill us has backfired. Instead of killing us, he’s alerted us to his presence. The dumb fuck.” The team stood in silence for a moment, contemplating the information that Zan had revealed. Then Axel said, “Well, I think I speak for everyone here when I say we need to take out Shiva, and this ‘New Syndicate’, for good.” Adam and the others nodded in agreement. “Zan, do you know where the main headquarters of this New Syndicate can be found?” Axel asked. Zan shook his head. “I’m sorry, Axel. I’ve told you everything I know. If you intend to hunt down the New Syndicate, you’re on your own from here on out.” Skate moved his mouth to speak, and said, “You’re coming with us, aren’t you, doctor?” “I’m afraid not, Skate,” Zan said gravely. “The damage is too severe. The only thing keeping me alive is my connection to the computer’s power. I’m dead already.” “No…” “Axel, it’s getting darker. Do me a favour – disconnect me for good.” Axel swallowed, and looked into Zan’s eyes. They looked haggard with age, exhaustion and decay. He could clearly see the man was serious. “Are you sure?” “I could be reworked,” Zan said, “but I’ll never be top-of-the-line again. I’d rather be nothing.” Axel’s face was pale as he went to the length of cable that connected Zan to the computer, and gripped it with his right hand. Then he turned to look at Zan’s face for final confirmation. “Do it for me…” Zan whispered. Axel took a deep breath and nodded, then pulled the cable sharply from its socket at the rear of Zan’s head. Zan’s body convulsed, then went silent.

319

8 Night Stalkers

The crescent moon hung low in the night sky, partially obscured by a cluster of dark clouds carried east by the breeze. The air was warm and dry, not unusual for a summer evening here in Washington D.C. Along a busy main thoroughfare, light traffic soared past in each direction, the dazzling glare of headlights blending in with the orange haze at large, cast by street lamps on either side of the road. Nearby, a line of parked cars and ambulances was docked beside the General Hospital, which loomed like a dark hulk in the night air, and nobody noticed the unmarked Sedan pull away from the traffic and pass through the entryway into the parking lot. Nobody noticed, as the Sedan cruised around to the back of the hospital and came to a stop near a rear door. The door was marked:

Staff Only No Entry to the public

The Sedan’s engine was switched off, and three dark figures emerged from the vehicle, dressed in black, tight-fitting robes, outfitted with katana swords sheathed over their backs. Their faces were masked and black hoods were pulled over their heads. Swiftly and methodically, the tallest of the three figures went to the door of the hospital and punched a security code into the keypad. The door chimed and unlocked. He beckoned for the others to follow, and they passed through as a single unit, the door clicking shut behind them. So far, so good… The trio of dark assassins moved quickly through the corridors of the hospital’s ground floor, sticking to shadows, sneaking invisibly past night porters and nurses, who went about their duties while the hospital’s in-patients slept. At this time of night, much of the building was quiet and dark, and those few people that were upand-about were scarce, most of them confined to offices and main wards. This was the perfect moment for an infiltration, and the dark assassins that skulked in shadow were skilled and experienced enough to travel completely undetected past all security monitoring. They were on an important mission, each of them totally dedicated to their cause. With silent precision, they made their way up to the fourth floor. As they flipped into shadows at the top of the stairwell, the tallest one gestured for them to stop. “This is it,” he whispered. His voice was thin and he spoke in a Japanese dialect. “She’s on this level. Let’s make this quick and get out of here. No mistakes.”

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The others nodded, and they went through the door into the fourth floor corridor making no sound, unsheathing their katana swords with well-rehearsed ease, preparing for the kill. Their mission would soon be complete. Their mission: to kill Blaze Fielding. Unbeknownst to them however, their every move was being watched.

*** A lithe figure glides silently after the assassins. His name is Joe Musashi, and he seeks out members of the Neo Zeed. He has pledged himself to cleansing their evil from the face of the earth… …and nothing – neither man nor beast, can stop him from pursuing them. His search has led him here, to this capital city of the US. The night holds its breath. Nothing stirs at his passing. So complete is his Haragei… his enemies fail to sense his nearness… Until it is too late…

*** Blaze couldn’t sleep. She lay in her hospital bed, eyes wide awake, pupils dilated in the quiet darkness. She couldn’t rest – there was simply too much to think about; her mind was reeling with memories of the events of the past few days. So little of it made any sense. Why had Dr. Zan – a man she had thought of as her friend – invaded her home, killed her boyfriend, and very nearly killed her? She swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut tight, trying to blot out the memory. It had all happened so fast… one moment, she was just about to have sex with John, the next… she shook her head, then shifted uncomfortably in the bed. She could still see John’s headless corpse in her mind, laying scattered across the destroyed bedroom floor, Zan’s hand coated with blood and meat. She could still feel the gut-wrenching terror that she’d experienced then, and remembering it now brought tears to her eyes. John…Why did this have to happen? There was nothing she could do to avoid the fact that John Sinclair was dead, and there was nobody to blame but herself. Axel had told her that Zan had been reprogrammed…he’d been targeting the team members who took down Mr. X’s Syndicate a year previously.

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I should have known I’ve got enemies out there who want me dead! If I hadn’t gotten involved with John Sinclair in the first place, chances are he would still be alive now! Blaze hadn’t told John much about her past; she’d been intentionally vague. All he knew about her was what he’d read in the papers and magazines, about the murder of her family and her run-ins with the Syndicate. Their relationship had been a casual one, neither of them had had any long-term plans, they were just hooking up for sex, really – so Blaze figured he was on a need-to-know basis. He hadn’t been aware of the genetic experiments conducted on her at Edgemont, and her ability to summon Fire – the reason she was so despised by those closest to X’s Inner Sanctum. No, John had been completely innocent of these truths, and he hadn’t deserved to die the way he did… She sighed, a tear flowing down one cheek. Not that any of it mattered now. John was dead, end of story. My fault! Deep down, she craved something to give her mood a little boost, maybe some morphine to help her sleep… but she knew that wasn’t a good idea. By reprogramming Zan and sending him to kill them, it was clear that someone out there wanted them dead – something serious was going on. She couldn’t afford to cloud her brain with lucid chemicals any more than necessary – not that she had immediate access to any, anyway. She would need to be ready to defend herself, ready to fight, in case the person behind all this struck again. Her thoughts turned to Axel, who she remembered had saved her life at the last minute. Apparently, she’d been moments from death. She was appreciative that he was still so caring, that he was still the same old Axel she’d known for so long now. Seeing him again brought back familiar feelings inside of her, feelings of love and belonging that seemed to be missing from her life recently. But whether or not they still had a future together, as a couple, remained to be seen. It was still too early, too soon after John’s death, and Blaze wanted to sort her head out before considering getting back together with Axel. On top of all this, there was also the issue of Dr. Zan, who had also been killed! Another innocent victim of this unseen menace. It was a great shame, as Blaze had hoped to work with Dr. Zan again at some point – he’d given her some great words of wisdom during the Project Y incident, and she’d considered him a friend. Painful events, but Blaze was used to this sort of thing. She’d just add these latest developments to her already long list of problems. Oh, brother. She shifted in the bed again, tossing and turning, and ended up laying on her back with a long sigh. She wondered if the others had made any progress studying Zan’s body. She remained optimistic that they had, and expected them to update her on the situation soon. Perhaps tomorrow morning… Blaze yawned, beginning to feel fatigue and exhaustion setting in. One more night in this hospital, and she could rejoin the team in setting this whole mess straight. Within moments, she was fast asleep. *** Blaze awoke to the sound of meat being cut.

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She frowned wearily, a sudden, adrenaline-charged nervousness overwhelming her senses. It had been a very disturbing sound, a sound like flesh being chopped with something thick and metallic, and it had been loud enough to wake her from a dream. It had sounded very close by. What the hell was that? she thought. She licked her lips, feeling her aura lightly flowing within her, and turned her head to one side to look out the glass porthole on the room’s door. As she did so, a spray of blood splashed across the glass from outside, and the door banged hard as something fell against it. Blaze’s eyes widened. “Hey!” she shouted, and her aura started to intensify. She blinked, her breathing and heart rate increasing, and she struggled for a moment to hold back her aura from bursting. She lay on the hospital bed, abhorred by the sight of fresh blood running down the porthole, and for a moment felt helpless and vulnerable. Someone killed!? “What the fuck is going on?” she breathed. First Zan had tried to kill her – now this… This could be bad… She pulled the white bedcovers back and stepped naked onto the floor, trying to stand up, but her legs folded and she collapsed into a heap on the soft carpet. “Shit!” she cursed. She wasn’t going anywhere fast. Suddenly, the door blew open with immense force, and a dark ninja assassin was standing over the threshold, clutching his katana, covered in blood. He was roaring like a maniac. On the floor of the corridor behind him, two other ninjas lay dead, beaten and cut to death by some unseen assailant. The blood-soaked assassin towering over her was wounded, having apparently been in a battle to the death only moments ago, and he took one step towards Blaze and raised his sword high in the air, preparing to strike her with a single, killing blow. A look of fierce intensity filled his dark eyes. Blaze’s body was limp, her muscles refusing to obey her mental command to get the hell out of there. She could do little more than open her mouth to gasp – - then suddenly, in a blur of motion, another figure charged into the room behind the assassin and plunged his own katana into the man’s back, skewering him violently, simultaneously puncturing several vital organs. There was a spray of blood that splashed over Blaze’s face and she recoiled in horror. “Fuck!” The katana was retracted then, and the assassin’s face went deathly pale. He dribbled blood thickly for a moment, his eyes rolling in their sockets, then he collapsed lifelessly to the floor. Blaze sat there in a state of complete shock, shaking, her brown hair dripping with the dead man’s blood. She raised her head to look at the fourth man – the one who had saved her life. He was a ninja; she could tell that much from the way he was dressed and the weapons he carried, but he was clearly very different to the three dead men laying on the floor around them. They were all wearing black, while he was not. He was adorned in white, unique, custom-designed robes she didn’t recognise. “Who…?” Blaze started. The man bowed his head. “Blaze Fielding, I presume?” He had a calm and mature voice, betraying an intellect beyond his years. She nodded dumbly, then swallowed and cleared her throat, pulling together her thoughts. “Yes, I’m Blaze. Who the fuck are you? And what the fuck is going on here?”

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Slowly, he pulled his facemask away, and Blaze saw a man not five years older than herself. He was of Japanese origin, his skin dark and smooth. His deep brown eyes flashed in the night air. “My name is Musashi,” he said coolly. “On the trail of Neo Zeed I learned of a plot to assassinate you tonight. Luckily, I was able to intervene before it was too late, as you can see…” “Neo Zeed?” Blaze frowned. “Assassinate me? What the fuck are you talking about? Who are you?” “There’s no time to explain,” Musashi insisted. “You’re not safe here anymore. We must make haste at once before we are discovered. The commotion is bound to have attracted attention. Can you walk?” She shook her head. “Look at me. My legs have turned to jelly. I haven’t used them for a while…” “Then I will carry you.” Blaze nodded, wrapping herself in the bed sheet. She felt that she could trust this Musashi, at least until she found out what was going on here. “Okay. I’m with you.” Musashi came and knelt beside her and hoisted her onto his shoulder. Blaze held onto his back as he got to his feet, lifting her clear of the floor. “We should find a safehouse,” he told her. “I will explain everything there.” “We have to find my friends first,” Blaze said with a pleading urgency in her voice. Then she looked at the floor. “I have to find them. They can help me.” Musashi nodded, stepping out of the room and slipping down the corridor, carefully avoiding the puddles of blood splashed across the floor. “Very well,” he said to her. “Let’s go.”

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9 Threads

Axel Stone received the call from Blaze at 4am that morning, waking him from sleep. She spoke quickly over the phone, telling him all about the assassination attempt at the General Hospital, then went on to explain that Joe Musashi had taken her to a safehouse, and that they awaited the team’s presence there. We need to regroup, she’d said. Excitedly, she explained how she thought Musashi could be a great help to them with his knowledge of the Neo Zeed organisation. Axel agreed, saying that this was more serious than she knew. He went on to explain what happened with Dr. Zan at the FBI laboratory, and how Shiva was behind everything, pulling the strings, moving to dominate the New Syndicate. Needless to say, Blaze was pissed off with the whole thing, and Axel promised he’d wake the others and make his way over as soon as he could, then by 5 o’clock, his team was assembled and ready to go meet her. “There’s been another attempt on Blaze’s life,” Axel had told them. “Neo Zeed, this time. They would have been successful too, if not for the last minute intervention of a ninja named Joe Musashi…” Max had recognised the name… “Blaze is okay,” Axel continued. “They’re waiting for us in a safehouse on 45th street.”

The safehouse turned out to be a non-descript, unfurnished apartment with broken windows and no electricity. When the team arrived and stepped over the threshold, they were pleased to see Blaze walking again. She showed them in; Axel stepped in first, followed by Adam, Max, Skate and Murphy. Blaze hugged Axel, taking a deep breath of relief as she did so. “I missed you,” she whispered. Axel nodded, stroking her brown hair. “I’m here, babe.” Then he turned to look at Joe Musashi, who stood there in an expectant silence. “Nice work taking out those assassins…” Axel said to him. “My name is Axel Stone, and this is…” “Your reputation precedes you, Axel,” Musashi said, cutting him off. He smiled. “I recognise you… and Adam Hunter, Max Hatchett, Eddie Hunter...” Musashi bowed his head and frowned at Murphy. “You I don’t recognise, however…” “Ah…Murphy,” the young agent blurted. “My name’s Murphy. Adam’s partner in the FBI. Nice to meet you, sir. Thanks for saving Blaze’s life.”

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“It was nothing,” Musashi smiled. “I brought Blaze here for safety. Neo Zeed will strike again. We must lay low until we can formulate a strategy.” “So who are you?” Skate asked. “Why did you help us?” “My name is Joe Musashi,” he answered. “I arrived in the United States two days ago. I am Shinobi, and I am hunting down the Neo Zeed. My search …has led me here.” “It just so happens that we’re after the same people,” Max said. “Neo Zeed is now a part of the New Syndicate.” “I am well aware of that,” Joe Musashi told him. He looked at the faces of Skate, Adam, Murphy, and Axel, then stopped on Blaze. “And I am well aware of your history with Mr. X – the Syndicate’s founder. I am here on the trail of Neo Zeed’s figurehead boss, The Hand. In my homeland I learned that he had come here, to the United States, for a high-level meeting with the New Syndicate’s Inner Circle.” Axel nodded. “Right. We want to track down Leon Shiva, one of the other top players. We want to shut down the New Syndicate for good – including Neo Zeed. Maybe we can help each other out.” Musashi took a deep breath and leaned back, his arms folded as he regarded them with cautious eyes. He blinked, flexed his jaw muscles, then finally nodded. “Your words have merit,” he said. “I usually work alone, but in this case I will make an exception. I feel that with this merger of international crime Syndicates, it may be a task for more than one man.” “Great,” Adam grinned. “Then I guess we’re a team!” “So what else can you tell us about yourself, Musashi?” Blaze asked, curious to find out more about the man who had saved her life. “Why are you after Neo Zeed?” Musashi straightened, and lowered his tone. “It is a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?” Blaze nodded. “Very well. Neo Zeed killed my sensei, Harada Maezumi, and I want vengeance. They have also kidnapped Naoko, my fiancée…..” He turned away. “Well, you’re not the only one looking for vengeance,” Blaze said matter-offactly. “The Syndicate killed my family, and experimented on me for years. Turned me into a freak.” Musashi turned to her. “Yes. I know about Project Homo Superior. I am well aware of the pain you have had to endure.” “Why did they kidnap your girlfriend?” Skate asked. “Why kill your sensei?” “I was responsible for the destruction of the original Zeed organisation three years ago…” Musashi swallowed, took a deep breath and blew it out wearily, pacing around the room. “One of their number was able to survive…he is now known as The Hand, and controls the reformed Neo Zeed.” “So they wanted revenge on you?” Skate said. Musashi tilted his head to one side. “Partially. But they had an ulterior motive. You see, not long ago my sensei recently discovered an …item…of archaeological significance… not far from our village in Subashiri. It was a parchment, that told of the location of one of Japan’s ancient lost treasures.” “Lost treasures?” Skate echoed. “I am talking about an artefact, known as the Essence of Jutsu. In legend, it is said to bestow the user with the power of Ninjitsu Magic. But long ago, the artefact was divided into two, in order to prevent the abuse of its power. For many years, The Hand has been in possession of one of those pieces. He only needs the second piece,

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and he can use the artefact to his own ends. Following the information on my sensei’s parchment, I was able to find the second piece.” Musashi reached into his robes and pulled out a smooth round tablet of limestone small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. It was engraved with letters from some ancient, forgotten language. “This must not be allowed to fall into the wrong hands,” Musashi said, staring at the thing in his hand. Skate shook his head. “Are you serious? Ninjitsu Magic? Surely that’s just a load of superstitious bullshit.” Musashi gave him a scornful look. “I tell you the power is very real.” “Come on!” Skate wailed. “Magic?” Musashi sighed, growing impatient at Skate’s scepticism. “American life has clouded your mind, young man. Your mind could not begin to comprehend the nature of the great Art, until you learn to relearn.” Skate went quiet. “You may not believe me,” Musashi said. “But I assure you the danger is real. If The Hand were to get hold of both pieces, we would all be in trouble. Big trouble.” “I believe you,” Axel said. Blaze looked at him weirdly. “Whilst I was on the trail of the second piece of the artefact,” Musashi continued, “I was set upon by Neo Zeed attackers who had been tracking me. They tried to steal the piece from me, but I was able to fight them off. When I returned home, I learned that Harada had been burned alive and all of his research notes taken. Naoko had disappeared.” “That’s horrible.” “I soon learned that Naoko was being held hostage by The Hand. He is no doubt holding her as bait, for me, in an attempt to lure me into his clutches. He knows I have the second piece of the Essence of Jutsu, and he wants it. I intend to kill him, recover his piece of the artefact, and rescue my love from his clutches. I will then destroy the artefact for good.” Adam raised his eyebrows. “I can see that we have our work cut out for us,” he said wearily. Axel nodded. “Maybe it’s best if we take a break for now. I need some time to digest all of this information.”

*** Blaze closed the bathroom door, and stepped through the unfurnished living room where the others were quietly chatting, some sitting on the floor, some standing. Adam had broken out the last of his ration packs, enough for them all, and even Musashi had eaten some, apparently having gone without food for over 24 hours. This was a big situation here – an alliance of some of the most powerful criminal organisations in the world – and the fact that Shiva was still alive, was responsible for this whole mess, made Blaze’s blood boil. Already she’d barely survived two assassination attempts, and she wondered what the New Syndicate was going to do next. She dreaded the fact that Shiva still intended to implement the socalled ‘revolution’ originally envisioned by Mr. X, the man responsible for all her problems, and with the whole Neo Zeed and Ninjitsu Magic thing… She shook her head. It was enough to drive a person insane.

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I should know… She swallowed dryly, blinking the thoughts aside, and went to talk to Axel, who stood by the doorway, one elbow leaning against the wall. “Axel, I think we should leave Washington immediately,” she said. “As long as we stay here, we’re not safe.” Axel looked at her. “Where do you suggest we go? We don’t have any leads to follow up at the moment. Max has been phoning around some of his contacts in Washington, but so far, we haven’t come up with a thing. The New Syndicate is covering its tracks extremely well.” Blaze frowned. “What about Musashi? Does he have any intelligence we could use?” Axel shook his head. “Not at the moment. Seems we’re in the same boat – we need clues…” “Well, I just think we should skip town, that’s all,” Blaze said. “Staying here, knowing that Neo Zeed is after me is giving me the creeps.” Axel put his arm round her. “Don’t worry. We’ll skip town, Blaze. But we have unfinished business here in Washington to take of first. It’s Dr. Zan’s funeral tomorrow, and I think we owe it to him to make an appearance.” “Zan’s funeral? Tomorrow? Here?” Blaze shook her head in disbelief. “Isn’t that a bit risky, given what we know?” “It is,” Axel admitted, “but let’s face it…without intelligence to go on, we’re pretty much counting on The New Syndicate to make the next move. The ball is still in their court. We need to take possession. Until that opportunity presents itself, we sit tight, carry on as normal. If nothing happens, we skip town and decide where to go from there.” Blaze took a deep breath of air. “I hope you’re right, Axel. I really do. The Syndicate fucking scares the shit out of me. Every time we think we’ve defeated them, they spring up again. The fuckers don’t know how to quit. I just want to run…” “Blaze,” Axel said warmly, and took her hand. The sensation was firm and reassuring and made her feel younger. “Trust me. Again.” Blaze sighed and nodded. She would trust Axel’s decision to stay in Washington. But she had a feeling that something terrible was about to reveal itself, something far worse than they could possibly imagine…

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10 Syndicate High Council

The meeting room was a study in quiet but unpretentious elegance, on the top floor of one of the tallest skyscrapers in the world. Two men sat at a stately oak table in the middle of the room, watching Leon Shiva pace by the window, looking at his watch impatiently. “He’s late,” Shiva said, speaking fluent Japanese. The two men at the table shifted uncomfortably in their seats, one of them picking up a cup of tea and sipping it nervously. They knew what Leon Shiva was capable of, and they knew he wasn’t a man who liked to waste time. Anyone who did just ended up in his way. Suddenly, the door burst open violently, and a large man dressed in samurai armour entered the room, followed by an assistant. He was Asian, somewhere in his fifties, and a thick scar ran across his face, giving him a monstrous appearance. “Gentlemen,” the assistant said, his head lowered. “May I present…his Excellency… The Hand.” He faced his armoured master and bowed, then turned and left the room. The Hand sneered and took a seat by the others, who were clearly unimpressed by his choice of attire for this high-level meeting. Shiva walked up to the table and stood glaring at The Hand in disgust. “You’re late, Mr. Hand. By twenty minutes.” “Yes, I am aware,” The Hand muttered. “I apologise to the Council for being so, but my reasons are worthy. It will not happen again.” Shiva gritted his teeth and nodded. “Good. Then perhaps we should get this meeting started. We’ve wasted enough time already.” “Of course.” The Hand said, and locked his eyes on Shiva. “First, I should let you know that the attempt to kill Blaze Fielding has failed. She escaped, and she is believed to be working with my old adversary, Joseph Musashi.” Shiva frowned. “Blaze Fielding escaped? Typical. I might have expected your goons to fail such a simple task. Can’t anyone pin this bitch down?!” “You’re not listening!” The Hand roared back, startling Shiva. “Musashi is a powerful warrior, a master of Shinobi-Jutsu, one of our most ancient and revered ninjitsu forms! He should not be underestimated, for he was able to destroy the Zeed three years ago! If I had known he was going to be there, I would have killed them both myself. It is he that possesses the missing piece of the artefact I seek…” Shiva sighed. “What a fucking disaster! Now they’ll be teaming up and coming after us!” The Hand grunted. “Hmmph. If your plan to blow them all up with that robot scientist had worked in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this situation now would we?” “You mock me!” Shiva roared, and glared at him.

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“Gentlemen,” the tea drinker broke in. “Gentlemen, please, let’s focus on the issue at hand. I’m sure a bunch of renegade do-gooders can be taken care of soon enough. What are we going to do about the warheads? What city are we targeting first?” Shiva went to the window and stared out at the dark night, observing the reflections of the three men seated behind him. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and calmly. “London,” he said. “I’ll see to the missile launch personally. I want to make sure it’s done right.” The man who always wore blue said, “Very good, Shiva. And what of Blaze Fielding and her cohorts?” Shiva swallowed, trying to decide what course of action would be prudent. Then a smile crept slowly onto his lips, and he turned to look at them. “Well, we’ve been waiting for an opportunity to field-test the mature Homo Superior units. Perhaps now is the time.” “An excellent idea, Shiva,” the tea drinker said, licking his lips, his cup rattling on its saucer. “And what better place to strike than Zan’s funeral, which, as I understand, is taking place tomorrow?” “I agree,” Blue said. “This represents a perfect opportunity for us.” The Hand said nothing, only bowed his head slightly. Shiva nodded. “It’s settled then. Send in the clones.”

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11 The Funeral

It was a cold morning in Washington D.C. A thick layer of fog blanketed the ground, and gave Oak Hill Cemetery a dreamy, almost sinister atmosphere. Blaze stood amongst the three dozen or so assembled guests, dressed in a traditional black outfit. It was cold enough to see her breath in the frigid air. She’d been crying, the make-up around her eyes having been blotted by tears. She guessed that Oak Hill Cemetery was a nice enough place to lay Zan to rest. Good layout, with a one story rectangular chapel sitting on the highest ridge. The chapel had a steeply pitched roof, buttresses, and pointed arched windows, and as Blaze stared at it, it seemed to loom at her darkly through the fog. An old priest was leading the ceremony. “We are gathered here today, to remember the life of Gilbert Zan…” A throbbing sensation came over her body then, a sudden, instinctive feeling that told her to get the hell out of there. It was a familiar sensation, one she remembered from her days living feral. Having spent the better part of ten years living in the jungle, fending for herself, Blaze had to rely on instincts and gut feelings in order to survive – what to avoid, when to run. Right now, Blaze’s instincts told her something wasn’t right, and they were in danger. She blinked, struggling to stay focused. She had to ignore these feelings…there was a funeral going on, for fuck’s sake…but…then again, what if the New Syndicate was up to something? They could all be in danger… “…and one of our national heroes. His role, his sacrifice, during the Project Y incident, enabled the…” Blaze turned to Axel, who stood beside her, eyes fixed on the priest. She nudged him. “Axel,” she whispered. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea to be here. I have a bad feeling about this…” He turned to her. “Relax,” he said, then turned his attention towards the priest again. Blaze frowned, unable to shake the feeling from her system. It was stronger now, and she found herself unable to concentrate on what the priest was saying. His words were lost under the sensations that pulsed through her like waves of energy. Her aura flared up inside her, her breathing becoming faster and more laboured. “You okay?” Axel said to her, noticing her predicament. She shook her head. “I don’t know…I…I feel…strange…like… like we’re being watched…” Axel put his arm around her, and turned his head to survey the other guests assembled around them. It was a large crowd, and in this fog it would be easy for someone to sneak in and blend amongst them without being noticed. “Okay,” Axel said, “maybe it’s best if we…” He stopped suddenly, as his gaze fell upon one of the faces in the crowd. It was a woman, dressed in a black hooded robe, with dark eyes, dark brown hair, red

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lips. She looked exactly like Blaze. Every detail of her face, right down to the beauty spot. The woman looked at him and winked. Axel frowned, and looked down at Blaze, who stood beside him. Then he looked up again – - and the woman was gone. He scanned the immediate area, his eyes darting this way and that – but she was nowhere to be seen. “That’s weird,” Axel muttered. “What?” “Just now…I swear…I saw you…standing over there.” He pointed. Blaze chuckled. “What are you on, Axel? Can I have some?” “I’m serious. It was you…or at least, someone who looked like you. But the resemblance was uncanny - you’d have to be identical twins to look that alike.” “Where is she now?” “I can’t see her anymore.” Blaze took a deep breath, looking around, but she couldn’t spot the mysterious look-alike. Either Axel was hallucinating, or something very weird was going on here. But minutes went past, and the sensations of dread and imminent danger faded from Blaze’s system. “I don’t see anything,” she said. Axel shrugged. “I guess I was imagining things…” Blaze nodded wearily. “Sure.” *** It was a beautiful ceremony. After the priest and a couple of government officers had spoken, Zan’s coffin was lowered into his grave and covered over. Axel and Blaze went to pay their last respects, then moved to a safe distance away from the dispersing crowd. As they passed through a cluster of overhanging trees, Axel broke into a run. “There she is!” he cried. “The other Blaze!” And then Blaze saw her. Standing thirty yards or so in front of them, dressed in black robes, the woman was… was… Blaze squinted her eyes. “What the fuck-?” Axel was right. The woman looked exactly like her… It’s me! Blaze started after Axel, freaked out at the implications. As she did so, the doppelganger, the impostor, spotted them and dived into the trees. “Fuck me!” Blaze puffed. “She’s using the trees!” Behind them, another tree started to rustle. There was an electronic charging sound, and something fell to the ground. Something invisible. “What is that?” Blaze asked. “Get down!” Axel roared, and slammed Blaze down to the wet ground. He ducked, narrowly avoiding a bolt of energy that swung through the air above his head. He jerked back and kicked at mid-air, and there was the sound of impact. Forks of blue electricity appeared before them, and the figure of a woman seemed to materialise out of thin air. “Stealth suit!” Axel shouted.

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Blaze gasped. The woman – it was…it was… “Another one!” She screamed. “They’re clones!” she heard Axel shout. “It’s the only explanation!” The second Blaze impostor dashed to the right and went to swing her energy claw weapon at Axel. He dodged the attack lazily and launched his right foot at her head. As she stumbled back, clutching her face, the other impostor leapt from the trees and landed in a martial arts stance. The second one flipped over their heads and went to join her. Two Blazes. “What the fuck are you?” Blaze hissed. The first impostor stepped forward and smiled, hands on hips. “We are Homo Superior,” she said. “I am The Second One.” The other impostor raised her head, swinging back her dark brown hair. “I am The Third One.” Blaze swallowed dryly. She suddenly remembered, with a flash, the night John had been killed, when Dr. Zan had referred to her as The First One. She had no idea what he was talking about…but now… this was crazy… “Homo Superior…?” Blaze mumbled. She started to feel faint. The Second One giggled, and licked her lips tartly. “We are the next step in human evolution. And you – you are the First One – the Queen of our race. A revolution is coming, and Leon Shiva has…” “Fuck you!” Blaze grunted. Her eyes filled with tears. The clones glanced at each other, then looked back. “We were told that you hadn’t undergone the memory wipe procedure,” The Third One said. “It’s why you’re persisting with these renegade actions. Blaze, come back with us. Let us make you better. Take your rightful place as Queen!” Axel looked deathly pale. “Looks like the Syndicate had a lot more secret experiments going on than we thought.” Blaze sniffed, wiping tears from her eyes. Project Homo Superior… “No, no, no, no…” she moaned. “No! This can’t be real! I’m dreaming! I’m going to wake up!” She screamed. But it wasn’t a dream. It was real. Her worst nightmares come true… With a sudden, intense rage, Blaze drew upon her aura, summoning blue fire through her arms. Then she threw them forward, towards the clones. “Fireball!” The clones scattered, avoiding the blast. The Second One rolled across the grass and flipped up, summoning a fireball of her own. She threw it towards Axel. “Shit!” Axel cried. He leapt to safety just as the blue energy ball crashed into the ground where he was standing. Meanwhile, Blaze leapt upon the Third One and started pummelling her with intense judo combos. The Third One was knocked back for a moment, dazed, then recovered and flipped into a powerful cartwheel manoeuvre that knocked Blaze off her feet. “Renegade asset,” The Third One spat. “If you will not accept our gracious offer, then you will die.” “Blaze!” Axel shouted. He raced towards the Third One and pulled off a thundering uppercut, grinding his knuckles into her flesh.

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“Bare Knuckle!” She screamed and fell back. The Second One snorted. “We are Homo Superior. You cannot defeat us. For we are many.” She leapt into the air and came down hard on Blaze, cracking the heel of her boot into her skull. Blaze whimpered and collapsed, but was on her feet again in an instant, taking the Second One by surprise. She pressed her foot into the Second One’s groin and flipped her back, throwing her into a tree. The Third One began to summon another fireball… Then, from all around them, came the welcome sound of gunfire - machine guns blazing. That would be the others… Axel fell flat on the ground and saw Blaze do the same. Saw her squeeze her eyes shut as the 10mm rounds cut into the two clones, taking them by surprise, shredding them apart, killing them. Blood sprayed. Bodies slumped. When the smoke cleared, Adam Hunter emerged from the shroud of fog and trees. Max, Skate and Murphy followed him. “Nice job, guys,” Axel said wearily. “Thanks.” Blaze gulped, still in shock. She didn’t speak. She stood there shaking, staring at the clone corpses on the ground, spluttered with blood. “Sorry we couldn’t get here sooner,” Adam said. He winced at the sight of the bodies. “Blaze clones, huh?” Axel nodded. “Yup. Blaze, are you okay?” She swallowed. “I don’t know, Axel. I don’t know what to make of all this. It’s so much to take in…I…” “Take your time,” Axel told her, a concerned expression coming over his face. “We’re getting out of here. Murphy, get this cleaned up, and find out where these clones are coming from!” Murphy nodded. “I’m on it.” He pulled out a cell phone and started making calls. Axel put his arm around Blaze. He could tell she was upset. Probably disturbed… he didn’t blame her. He could only imagine what kind of feelings she was having right now. *** Although there was probably a lot they could talk about on the journey back to the safehouse, Blaze didn’t feel like it and neither did Axel. They had to find the source of these Homo Superior clones fast, take out the New Syndicate, and not get killed in the process – not exactly the time for small talk, even if the streets did seem to be clear. And after the bizarre experience they’d just shared at the funeral, Axel couldn’t imagine chatting. What would we talk about, anyway? The weather? How many of her friends and loved ones are dead? The fact that she is a genetic experiment? How about whether or not another assassin is going to pop up and kill her anytime soon, or maybe the top ten reasons she doesn’t like the Syndicate… It certainly didn’t seem wise to start talking about their relationship. Blaze had far too much on her mind at the moment, and would need some time to come to terms with herself, before they could really talk about it. It could wait; besides, there was too much at stake here to be thinking about such things: the New Syndicate was in

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possession of nuclear weapons, and it was only a matter of time before they would use them – on innocent civilians. They would need to concentrate on the mission, and try to ignore all distractions… Axel had to admit, though – the encounter with the Blaze clones had left him a little shaken. It wasn’t every day shit like that happened. It really seemed to bring all of Mr. X’s experiments on Blaze into focus. The reason he’d been using her for all that time…the reason he’d tampered with her genetic code…was to create an army… an army of genetically enhanced super soldiers! One that has apparently continued to develop and thrive for all this time after X’s death, in some secret facility! If Mr. X created these clones, then it was obvious that Leon Shiva was now in control of them. Axel hoped that Murphy and the others were successful in tracking the source of the clones; it would hopefully lead them closer to the New Syndicate, closer to Shiva… And maybe they would get some answers along the way.

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12 Plan of Action

Back at the safehouse, while the others were occupied with Zan’s funeral, Musashi had taken the opportunity to get some rest before they continued their search. He lit scented candles around the main room and kneeled on a small cotton rug, meditating, his eyes wide open. In this state, his senses were extraordinarily keen and acute, his sight infinite. He had trained himself to feel the energy of the universe, to become one with it. It was the entire universe, and it was him: there was no distinction between the two. Here, he had transcended everyday conceptual thinking and could exist on purest instinct. He was Being, nothing more. The Essence of Jutsu… He closed his eyes, absorbed into the moment, taking a deep breath of air into his lungs. Then, memories from his past seemed to flow through his mind like water… Sensei… He remembered a training session, long ago, on the hills of Mount Fuji, far from Subashiri’s outskirts. He rode a horse that day, across the wet grass, aiming his bow and arrow at the target Harada had erected. “Excellent, Musashi-San,” Harada said, watching from a safe distance as Musashi’s arrow hit the bullseye dead centre. “Your archery is faultless. There is nothing more I can teach you. It is almost time for you to leave…” He came closer to Musashi and placed one hand firmly on his shoulder. Musashi frowned. “There is one thing that has been troubling me, Sensei…I have spent years studying the arts of ninjitsu, archery, and the katana. Yet any man with a gun can kill me without effort. If I stand in front of a man with an automatic weapon and raise my sword, he will shoot.” Harada grinned. “But that doesn’t mean that the old ways are useless. Didn’t Sun Tzu say, ‘When you know your enemy and choose your battlefield carefully, the smaller force is always able to overcome the larger’…? If you must fight a man with a gun, strike him from behind when he least expects it.” “But Sensei, that is not the way of a warrior, that is not Bushido…” “And do you think our enemies will abide by the law of Bushido?” Harada spat. “Sometimes I wonder what you’re using for brains, boy.” His voice seemed to trail off into an eternity. Harada had been right, of course. The Neo Zeed had stabbed his heart, then set fire to him while he was still alive. Hardly an honourable death for a great ninjitsu Master. And they had kidnapped Naoko… Naoko… An innocent girl who could do them no harm. His love, his fiancée. The one who made him complete… Now she was being held in some glittering steel and glass tower as bait… bait for the second piece of the artefact that was now in his possession.

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I will not rest until Neo Zeed is brought to justice. Their tyranny must end… This vow he silently made to himself. This he swore. *** His ear could discern the slightest perceptible sounds… Musashi stirred, blinked his eyes open and turned to look at the doorway. He could tell someone was approaching, but he did not sense any hostility. It was likely the others returning from the funeral. The front door opened, and Blaze Fielding ran through the main room, straight past him, locking herself in the bathroom. Then he heard her throwing up… Axel came in then, and closed the door behind him. His face was pale; something had definitely shaken them both up. “Welcome back, Axel,” Musashi said softly. He lowered his gaze. “What’s wrong? Did something happen at the funeral?” Axel came and sat beside Musashi, exhaling heavily as he did so. He seemed to shudder with unease and exhaustion. “You could say that,” he replied bluntly. “We ran into a couple of Homo Superior clones. I’m talking clones of Blaze. Fucking unbelievable! We had no idea…” Musashi raised his eyebrows. “Were you not aware that Project Homo Superior involved cloning?” “No,” Axel replied. “I mean, we knew that Mr. X had signed an order to keep Blaze imprisoned at Edgemont, and that he was conducting secret experiments on her, changing her at the genetic level, but this…”, Musashi took a deep breath and slowly nodded. “So where are the others?” “They’re fine. They stayed behind to…uh…clean up. Things got a little messy….” He trailed off. “I’m surprised how little you really know about Project Homo Superior, Axel,” Musashi said with a serious look on his face. “And Blaze? Judging by the way she ran to the toilet I’m guessing she wasn’t aware either.” Axel blinked, looking into Musashi’s eyes. “Well, she had some idea. It was something she kept having nightmares about. Just what do you know about it, anyway?” “I read about many of the Syndicate’s early experiments years ago, during my quest to destroy the original Zeed group. It would seem that the two organisations have maintained their relationship for some time. I was able to access information regarding several Syndicate research projects, like Project X and Project Homo Superior.” “What did you learn?” Axel asked curiously. “Homo Superior was to be the new master race,” Musashi told him, “one to help Mr. X dominate the world, and maintain control as a military unit. A Syndicate employee posing as Blaze Fielding’s doctor…a Simon Jerrin, I believe… took host blood samples from Blaze while she was imprisoned at Edgemont, and sent the DNA material to Syndicate Cloning Labs, where they created an unknown number of clones. They then proceeded with the gene therapy – to give Blaze, and her sisters, their superhuman powers. I was under the impression that the Project was never completed…”

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Axel shook his head. “After what we’ve just been through, I think we can safely say it was…” *** It was three in the afternoon when the others returned, and by that time, Blaze was feeling much better. It had been a pretty fucked up thing, seeing clones of herself, and the whole Homo Superior thing, the fact that it was all a Syndicate Project, just filled her with…well, feelings she just had to suppress, really. Physically, she felt better – the nausea had passed after she’d vomited – but fuck knows what this was going to do to her mental state in the long run. It had really yanked at something deep inside her, just knowing that there were others… it dragged her deeper into hopeless despair, and the only way she was going to get through this was if she just suppressed it all for now… They all sat in the main room of the safehouse. Adam was explaining what they’d discovered through their investigation. “…and we found what looked like some kind of computer chip, implanted into each of their skulls, each emitting a unique resonance frequency aligned to a remote source. We ran a trace through the FBI database and used a global positioning satellite to pinpoint the exact location of the Syndicate Cloning Labs. They’re in Philadelphia.” Blaze blinked. “You’re kidding? You found out where they’re coming from? Already?” Adam grinned. “Murphy takes the credit on this one. He’s the tech wizard, after all.” “It was nothing,” Murphy boasted, a boyish grin on his youthful face. “You want to know how I did it, in more detail…over dinner perhaps?” “Not really, no,” Blaze smiled, holding her hands out in front of her. “But thanks anyway.” Murphy laughed. “So, Axel, what’s our next move?” Blaze asked. Axel took a deep breath, going through the facts in his mind. “We skip town, head for Philadelphia. Once we’re there we assault the clone facility, take down any other clones we find…erm, Blaze, are you going to be okay with this?” She gritted her teeth and nodded. “Count me in, Axel. Go on.” He continued, “Hopefully we’ll be able to find some more clues when we get there. Cargo manifests, employment records, anything we can use to track down the New Syndicate. That’s the primary objective here.” A thin smile crept onto Blaze’s lips. “Good. ‘Coz I can’t wait to blow the fuckers away...” *** In the Syndicate High Council meeting room, Shiva sat in a large chair at the head of the oak table, so that he could see the faces of the other council members before him. “The preparations are complete,” he said. “At my command, a nuclear missile can be launched, right now, to obliterate the city of London. I only need final approval of all council members…” The others bowed their heads silently in agreement.

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Shiva inhaled sharply. “Very well. I will issue the command. Gentlemen, a great day is upon us. I only regret that my predecessor and founder of the Syndicate, Mr. X, is not alive to see this moment. The moment that everything he dreamed for, the revolution, is finally upon us. The destruction of London will signal the beginning of the end of this civilisation…and a new world will soon emerge!” The others clapped their hands in applause. Shiva smiled and raised his glass, saw the others do the same. “To the revolution. May it bring us all what we have worked so hard to achieve.” The others roared, “To the revolution.” Shiva only hoped it would all go to plan… Soon find out, he thought, and reached for his cell phone.

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13 Philadelphia County

Blaze sat on the edge of the toilet, pulling a clean bra over her shoulders, relieved to be out of her old clothes and feeling surprisingly clear-headed after a night of broken sleep. Axel had rented a car at the airport, and in the early hours of the morning, they’d found a cheap motel and staggered into their separate rooms, Blaze too exhausted to do more than take off her shoes before crawling into bed. She woke just before nine, took a shower and had been waiting nervously when Axel knocked at her door. Blaze heard the front door open and close, new voices floating through the living room. She slipped into a black t-shirt, then put on her high tops and laced them quickly, feeling her anxiety level jump a notch. The team was assembled. They were that much closer to going in, and though she’d thought of little else since waking up, the realisation continued to come as a kind of shock. The surprise attack from the Homo Superior clones already seemed like it had happened in another lifetime, though it had been less than twenty-four hours ago… …and hours from now, this will all be over, one way or another. Blaze shook the thought away as she stood up, scooping her dirty clothes off the floor and stuffing them into the empty bag she’d carried on the plane. She didn’t really know what to expect from the Philadelphia facility, and worrying about it wouldn’t change anything. She paused in front of the mirror, studying the tense features of the young woman she saw there, and then walked to the door. She headed for the living room, past the kitchen and around a corner in the hall. She heard Axel’s voice, apparently summing up the events of the night before. “…said he’d ring some of the others first thing this morning. Murphy will begin a thorough investigation when we have proof. He’ll be waiting on the outskirts, ready to back us up with some heavy firepower…” He broke off as Blaze walked into the room, and all eyes turned to her. Adam had pulled a few extra chairs into the room and sat in one of them next to a low, glass topped coffee table, alongside Max, Musashi and Skate. There were two men she didn’t recognise sitting on a couch across from where Axel stood. Axel smiled at her as both men got up, stepping forward to be introduced. “Blaze, this is Steve Jones and David Skinner. They’re FBI. They’re going to be backing us up on this one.” Steve grinned, an aw-shucks smile that suited his boyish features perfectly as he shook her hand, his teeth white against his natural deep-tan colouring. He had dark, quick eyes and black hair, and was only a few inches taller than her… Not much older, either… His gaze was friendly and direct, and in spite of the circumstances, Blaze found herself wishing that she’d at least run a brush through her hair before coming out of the bathroom. Simply put, he was hot. She shook David’s hand then, slightly less impressed with his appearance. He was overweight, and wore glasses, but was tall and confident.

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“This is Blaze Fielding,” Axel said. David let go of her hand, smiling. “I’ve seen pictures of you…you’re that Calvin Klein model, aren’t you?” Blaze blushed. “Yes, that’s me.” David laughed, a deep throaty chuckle as he sat back down. He glanced at Steve, then back at her. “You better watch out for Steve, then,” he said, then dropped his voice to a mock whisper. “He’s single, and he thinks you’re fine.” “Knock it off,” Steve growled, his cheeks flushing. He looked at her and smiled. “You’ll have to excuse David. He thinks he’s got a sense of humour and nobody can talk him out of it.” “Your mother thinks I’m funny,” David shot back, and before Steve could respond, Axel held up a hand. “That’s enough,” Axel said mildly. “We only have an hour or two to get organised if we mean to do this today. Let’s get started, shall we?” Steve and David’s banter had been a welcome break from her tension, making her feel like one of the team almost instantly – but she was also glad to see the serious, intent looks on all of their faces as they turned their attention to Axel, watching him pull out maps and lay them on the table. “Blaze, Adam, Max, Skate, Musashi – and myself, will infiltrate the cloning facility from the south-west,” Axel said. “Murphy and the others will wait on the outskirts, as backup…” David nodded. “If we don’t hear from you in one hour, we’ll come in after you…” “Right,” Axel said. “Good.” Anxiety flared within Blaze, and she felt her aura pulsing lightly through her body. She focused on Axel, silently telling herself that her anxieties wouldn’t get in the way of her doing her job. And that this mission wouldn’t be her last. *** The cloning facility was located at the foot of a large forest, concealed in perpetual shadow. Here, in this sparsely populated rural area of Philadelphia county, the facility had gone undetected for twenty years, and as they sprinted through the long grass towards it, Blaze found herself growing more nervous. She’d been mortified when she’d learned that it was Dr. Jerrin who was in on these Homo Superior experiments. The man who had posed as her MO, prescribed her drugs, and raped her multiple times. Then arranged for her memory to be wiped… She had no idea that his involvement had been so deep with the Syndicate, that all along, even to the point of his death, he had known about the cloning experiments and the gene therapy, and was keeping it a secret from her. It didn’t really surprise her though…in a way, it all sort of made sense now, and she could look back on those past events with a new, higher perspective. And here they were – on the verge of finally discovering these elusive Syndicate secrets and blowing all this demented shit to hell once and for all. I am Blaze Fielding, she thought. I am The First One. I am the original, not a copy, and I retain memories of my true life that the Syndicate stole from me, back on my island… All those years ago. Shattered heart…

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She took a deep breath as they emerged from the long grass into a clearing. They’d reached the outer perimeter of the facility compound. Straight in front of them about twenty meters away was their destination, and Axel was relieved to see a door set into a concrete wall facing block C; they wouldn’t have to go around to get inside. Axel edged away from the door to his left, hugging the narrow shadow of the wall. He could just make out the shape of the building he hoped was A, tall, windbent pines to the left and behind it. There was a darker shadow midway along its length, a door, and no cover in the thirty-plus metres that spanned the distance. Once they stepped away from C, they’d be totally vulnerable. If there’s anything waiting between the two lines of buildings… He shot a glance back, saw Blaze and Skate tensed and waiting behind him. If they were going to walk into a corridor of fire, at least he’d be in front; Blaze and Skate should have time to get back to cover. He took a deep breath, held it – - and broke away from the wall, running in a low crouch for the dark square of the block’s entry. Shapes of pallid light and shadow blurred past. His entire being was waiting for the flash of an automatic, the crack of fire, the sharp and piercing pain that would take him down – but it was silent and still, the only sound the violent stammer of his heart, the rush of blood through his veins. Seconds stretched into an eternity as the door loomed closer, larger Then the latch was under his fingers and he was pushing, bursting in to a stifling blackness, spinning around to see Blaze, then Skate, Max, Musashi and Adam come lunging after him. Axel closed the door quickly but quietly, sensing the emptiness of the dark room, the lack of life – and then the smell hit him. Blaze gagged, a dry bark of involuntary revulsion as Axel snatched for the torch, already dreading what he knew they would see. It was the same terrible stink Blaze had come across many times in her twenty-five years, but a hundred times more powerful. Blaze knew the odour well. She’d experienced it on Cocos Island and during her time as a police officer, in the basement of a serial killer’s house. The smell of rotting, multiple death was unforgettable, a rancid bile like sour milk and flyblown meat. How many, how many will there be? The torch beam snapped on and as it found the tottering, reeking pile that took up one corner of the large storage room, Axel saw that there was no way to be certain; the clone bodies had been burned and had melted into one another; the blackened, shrivelling flesh of the naked, stacked corpses blending and pooling from the humid heat. Maybe fifteen, maybe twenty… Dead Blaze clones. “Faulty Clone Disposal Area,” Max observed dryly, reading from a plaque on the east wall. Jesus. Retching, Skate stumbled away and threw up, a harsh and helpless sound in the otherwise quiet room. Axel quickly took in the rest of the chamber, finding a door against the back wall, the letter A blocked across it in black. Without another look at the terrible mound, he hustled the others toward the far door. Once they were through, the smell faded to barely tolerable. They were in a windowless corridor, and though there was a light switch next to the door, Axel ignored it for a moment, catching his breath, letting the other team members collect themselves.

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“Well, we found the faulty clones,” Skate whispered, shaking with adrenaline. “I’m guessing the decent ones are waiting for us up ahead.” Axel nodded. Skate was probably right. If they ran across any live clones, he’d shoot first and not bother with any questions at all.

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14 Cloning Facility

Musashi took point as they traversed the long corridors of the facility. Silent and easy, shadow without form… They reached a door. Musashi touched the clammy metal bar with steady fingers – and it wouldn’t move. The entrance was locked. No panic, no worry, he was a shade that no one could see; he’d find another way in. He held up a hand and beckoned the others to follow, leading them round the next corner, through Alpha Lab. Clutching her M16 to her chest like a lifeline, Blaze couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed at the sheer scope of the Syndicate experiments around them, the amount of equipment that was being used here… Tanks. There were tanks of stainless steel and glass, connected by tubing, lining most of the walls. Some of these tanks harboured a Blaze clone in some kind of stasis, being pumped with drugs, while most of the other tanks were empty. They looked identical to the ones she and Axel had seen three years earlier, when they’d infiltrated Edgemont to hack into their CPU. Guess there’s a connection, she thought. They rounded another corner and made their way up a flight of stairs to the administration level, and Adam called for them to stop. He was carrying a handheld scanning device, gazing at its readout. “We’ve got company,” he said. “To the left!” Musashi whispered. Blaze turned, and gasped as an air duct vent on the ceiling blew open. Five Homo Superior clones dropped into the corridor. Axel raised his M16, squeezing the trigger, but the shots went wild as the clones flipped into the air in all directions. One of them twisted her body as she flew towards Axel and launched her feet at him, knocking the M16 from his hands. He stumbled back, shielding his face as she went into a flurry of chops and jabs. God, they’re fast… Musashi’s heightened senses alerted him and he drew his katana, swinging it wide, catching the clone that leapt towards him in the thigh. She yelped and fell to the ground, the wound wide and deep. He retracted the weapon, span it back, then slashed at her, severing her body in two. One of the other clones summoned a fireball, the intense blue energy crackling and blasting between her hands. She threw it towards Max, catching him squarely on the chest. He fell back and rolled across the floor, slamming against the corridor wall violently. “Max!” Skate flipped and rolled to avoid a powerful backhander, then grabbed the clone responsible by the neck. He roared, and lifted himself onto her shoulders,

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smashing his fists into the back of her head. She crumpled beneath him, and he cracked the heel of his rollerblade into her torso. She squirmed silently then spluttered blood. Two down… Blaze’s mind whirled. Inside, her aura was raging, and she brought her hands out in front of her, allowing the power of the aura to build, focusing it intensely. The piercing glow of energy appeared as a crack of light, then expanded into a blue ball. She threw it forward. “Fireball!” The blast caught two of the clones by surprise, knocking them back. Blaze flipped towards them, slammed on top of them, cracking her heels into their faces, killing them instantly. Meanwhile, Axel had recovered from the powerful kick, and was now pummelling the last clone with his fists. “Bare Knuckle!” he roared, sending her flying towards Adam, who brought up his knee and cracked his foot into her face. She fell to the ground. Blaze grabbed her M16 and opened fire, the whizzing ammunition slicing and thudding into the downed clone, killing her. She watched the splattering of blood, the skull exploding, then her clip was empty and there was silence. She swallowed dryly, then lowered her weapon. “Everyone okay?” Axel said, the smoke clearing. Max shrugged, clutching his burned chest. “I’ve survived worse, I guess. But Jesus…that was tough… we may not be able to handle this. Who knows how many clones are running around in this facility? There could be hundreds…If we’re set upon by…” “Relax,” Axel said, putting his hand on his shoulder. “Let’s just do what we came here to do. Hopefully we can set the auto-destruct sequence, and we won’t have to fight them at all – they’ll go up with the rest of the facility…” Blaze laughed, and brushed back her dark hair. “Come on, boys, that was easy. I say bring these bitches on!” She smiled and licked her lips, chuckling to herself. There’s only room in this world for one of us… *** They went through administration and passed into an office. Three computer terminals lined a wall, and the power was on. Adam wasted no time, hooking his handheld device to a connection port and pressing buttons on the computer console. “I’m connecting to the database,” he said. “Good,” Axel grinned. “Get as much as you can.” He pressed a switch on his mobile communicator and held it to his mouth. “Murphy, do you read me?” “Loud and clear, Axel. Good to hear your voice.” “We’ve reached the admin terminals. Be ready to assist with the heavy artillery. We’ve encountered very little resistance this far, and I’m expecting them to be waiting for us on the way out.” “Understood. Murphy out.” Axel clicked off the communicator and put it in his pocket. He turned his attention to Adam, who knelt by the admin terminal, sweating, cross-checking data between the console and the handheld unit. After another moment, he nodded to himself and stood up.

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“The data transfer was a success,” he said, grinning. “What did we get?” Axel asked, and raised an eyebrow. Adam tapped buttons on his handheld. “There’s a lot…more than I ever thought we’d get! Research projects, maps, lists of facilities, personnel data, business transactions, alliance…and more! I think we just hit the jackpot!” Blaze took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Great stuff, Adam. Now let’s blow this joint. Can we set the self destruct from here?” Adam nodded, punching buttons on the third admin terminal. “That should do the trick,” he said. They ran. *** Many of the mature clones were dead, but the Twelfth One wasn’t. She was the most advanced Homo Superior to arise from the project, her powers far in advance of the others, who possessed little more than the fireball, and great strength and stamina. No, she was different, further along on the evolutionary chain, and possessed wondrous abilities that continued to baffle Syndicate researchers. She could see the team of renegades that was trying to destroy her home, and it wasn’t a game or another experiment or something to observe, they had to die, in pain and misery. How had they dared to consider destroying this place? They should be on their knees in front of her, worthless supplicants for her to do with as she wished, how dare they? The Twelfth One saw the team walking away from the admin terminal, felt them wishing to leave as the automated sequence began, lights and sounds flashing, systems shutting down throughout the facility. Their perfidy was useless, of course. She would be able to stop the destruct sequence with a minimum of effort, using her control over energy to sever every connection, but it was the thought behind the act that so infuriated her. They planned to commit a disgusting act of genocide by wiping out the small numbers of Homo Superior maturing and combat-ready at this facility. They would die for their pathetic insolence. She gathered herself, drawing all of her power in, becoming complete. She allowed her aura to fester and rage inside her, imagined herself becoming a fire-like energy travelling through the structure of her surroundings, and then she was doing so, moving to confront the interlopers. She caught them by surprise. Sliding out of her energy shift she moved to intercept Blaze Fielding, raising her hand to strike her – -and a perforation opened in her flesh, distracting her. A bullet had entered her body. She turned and smiled at Adam Hunter, at the gun in his hand, and reached into herself with a blinding white light, pulling the bullet out and tossing it toward him. “What the fuck?” Blaze Fielding, the First One, said. The Twelfth One laughed. Time to show them what she was, what she could do…and to put the fear of God into them, because she was Wrath, divine and merciless. *** “The self-destruct sequence has been activated,” a recording intoned, reverberating through the corridor, crowding out the rest of its message. “You have

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seven minutes thirty seconds to reach minimum safe distance.” Combined with the sirens and flashing emergency lights, Axel was on sensory overload before the fight even began. The Twelfth One appeared out of nowhere, phasing in as if she were made out of energy, and raised her hand to hit Blaze, and Adam fired, his .357 bucking in his hand, the shot blasting over the self-destruct alarms, deafeningly explosive. Yes! A clean hit, right through the gut, but instead of bleeding, instead of faltering even a step, the Twelfth One smiled at him. She lifted one of her slender hands and pushed it into her body, the flesh melding seamlessly, emitting an intense white light. A second later she held up the round he’d nailed her with and gently tossed it in his direction. Axel and Blaze both opened fire with their M16s, but the Twelfth One was way too fast. In a blur of motion she flipped towards them, knocking their weapons to the floor, then her whole body started to emit fireball energy. Bad, this is very, very bad, Axel thought numbly, and then a giant ball of energy blasted through the air towards him, knocking him back. “How is this possible?” Skate screamed. “I am the Twelfth One,” she beamed. “I am the most advanced of all the Homo Superior… I… am your God!” Blaze sneered. “No, you’re not! You’re a monster! An experiment created in a lab – from my DNA!” The Twelfth One turned to look at her. “Perhaps. But you cannot deny my power. I am far superior, and if you could look into the eyes of an animal you would blindly feed upon…you would reach the same conclusion…” “You have seven minutes to reach minimum safe distance,” someone else said, but Axel barely heard it, he was backing away, becoming more and more convinced that this was not going to end well. “Thunder!” Max drove into the Twelfth One like a juggernaut, knocking her to the ground with his sheer size. Seizing her moment of weakness, he forced his elbow into her face and jammed down, hard. Her leg came up, cracked his head, and then she was on her feet again, only to be caught by Skate’s corkscrew kick. “You can never stop me!” she spat, blood trickling down her chin. She summoned a fireball and blasted it at Blaze, who dodged the attack. “Wanna bet?” Blaze puffed. She flipped into a cartwheel, bringing her arms over and down, forming a slicing arc of energy that thrashed into the twelfth one’s head. She collapsed to the floor. “She’s unconscious,” Axel observed. “We don’t have time for this,” Max urged him. “We need to get out of here, now.” Axel nodded. They continued to run. ***

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Murphy, Steve and David were sitting in an armoured police cruiser on the outskirts of the clone facility, tactical siege cannon at the ready. Murphy was in the driver’s seat, chewing a power bar as Axel’s voice gargled over the radio. “Backup now…repeat, need backup, we are leaving the facility amid heavy resistance, forty, maybe fifty clones…I…Jesus Christ, where the fuck are they all coming from? No, wait! Blaze! Oh, she’s……shit! Murphy, back us up, now!” “You heard the man!” Murphy shouted to David, who was manning the weapon. “Let her rip!” David grinned and touched controls. The weapon, sitting atop the car’s roof and pointed at the sky, hummed to life, and a yellow beam of incendiary blast launched into the air. Murphy only hoped it would do the job.

***

Miles away, Leon Shiva heard the explosion, and could see the smoke rising shortly afterward, thick black plumes of it. His suspicions had been correct – Blaze Fielding and her cohorts had managed to trace the Homo Superior clones to the Philadelphia facility, and destroyed all traces of the research. Well. Not that it mattered now, anyway. The revolution was already well underway. While Blaze and the other do-gooders were preoccupied with the clones, a nuclear weapon had detonated in the air above London, England, killing most of the population and destroying a vast number of key computer cores. Shiva turned the jet back, heading towards Washington D.C. He smiled, looking forward to the end. It was going to be spectacular. The sun had come out and was reflecting against the trees, creating a brilliant radiance, blinding in its perfection. The small plane shot away, its shadow chasing it across the sparkling plains.

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15 Overnight Stay

Blaze switched on the TV. “…once again, if you’ve only just tuned in… the city of London, England, has been ‘wiped off the map’, in a devastating act of nuclear terrorism that has shocked the world. These pictures show the aftermath of the nuclear explosion which took place at 10am Greenwich Mean Time, 3000 feet above Hyde Park. The blast wave has killed thousands, if not millions, of people, including the entire Royal Family, and we’re getting reports of thousands more wounded. This is a grave day in world history. At noon President Hayes addressed the nation, and called this attack on London “evil”, a “crime against civilisation itself”, a “catastrophe from which the global community might never recover,” and said that the terrorists were “madmen”. The Department of Defence announced that the criminal organisation, “The New Syndicate”, has claimed responsibility for the blast. Our Washington correspondent, Robert Hawkins, is at the Pentagon now, Robert, what is the Defence Department telling us about this group?” “Johnny, the Syndicate is a name that should be familiar to most Americans after the destruction of Wood Oak City. The Syndicate, of course, was a highly controversial, rogue government operation originally formed in 1986 by George Xetheus, a then- US-Senator. A man who became known as ‘Mr. X’, a man who even had the administration eating out of his hand. Over the years the Syndicate grew into a global terrorist group operating out of the notorious ‘dark side’ of the White House. It spent millions of dollars from the Treasury on illegal genetics and robotics experiments, and controlled much of LA’s arms and drugs trade. Mr. X was reportedly ‘hell-bent’ on world domination. He had control of the police, and even some of the armed forces, and much of LA’s street crime could be linked to him.” “But Mr. X is dead.” “Yes. Mr. X was killed during the Project Y incident, but the nuclear warheads he had built were never recovered. The FBI has linked X’s former top man, Leon Shiva, to a new, international group of terrorists calling themselves “The New Syndicate”. “Robert, thankyou. We go now to our political correspondent, Darren Michaels.” “Thanks, Johnny. Now, the destruction of London has already had a significant impact on the global economy. The stock market has crashed, which has many of the world’s banks in absolute chaos, and all over the world, there is confusion and fear. President Hayes urged everyone to remain calm, that things must be set right, that we must be patient. The response from the international community has been overwhelming, with all members of the United Nations sending aid to Britain.

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Meanwhile, there are reports of riots taking place all over England. Since the Prime Minister and all of his cabinet were at Westminster at the time of the attack, the country has been left without leadership, and there is a lot of tension over there.” “What’s this going to mean for the future of global politics? Can the UK survive?” “There’s no way to be sure. At the moment the country is on a state of full alert, a temporary new Kent Parliament formed to deal with the problem. The entire London area is being put into quarantine, and people are being advised not to travel to the United Kingdom. All inbound flights have been cancelled. They are closing their borders and enforcing martial law -” Blaze wiped tears from her eyes. This is unreal, she thought. She switched off the TV, and went to find Axel. *** Blaze needed to talk to someone. Axel’s hotel room was at the end of the corridor. She went to it and knocked. Axel opened the door, looking pale. Behind him, his TV was on, the dramatic events unfolding on every channel. “You’ve heard the news?” he asked wearily. Blaze opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again and nodded. She swallowed, and her lip quivered. Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, God, Axel, I’m scared,” she said. “I’m so scared…” She burst into tears. Axel took a deep breath. “Come here,” he said. She went to him and he embraced her in his arms. They hugged, and it was warm and right. Blaze lifted her head to look at his eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here, Axel,” she said. “These past few days…I…” she swallowed. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Axel smiled. “Sure, hon. Now, are you coming inside, or are we going to stand here on the doorstep all evening, freezing our asses off?” He grinned. “I’ve got tea on the brew…” Blaze laughed, and smiled through her tears. “Sounds wonderful!” She held his hand and followed him inside. *** “It’s so unbelievable!” Blaze said, sipping her tea. Axel paced from one side of the room to another. “Bastards!” he cried. “The complete bastards! How can they just go around nuking cities at will? Killing millions of innocent people? Haven’t they got a shred of conscience? Jesus fucking Christ.” Blaze snorted. “Of course they haven’t. This is the Syndicate we’re talking about here. They don’t give a fuck about anyone – they’re complete lunatics.” “You can say that again…” Axel stopped pacing and went to the bed, sitting beside Blaze. He could smell her perfume strongly. He picked up his mug of tea from the bedside cabinet and gulped back the hot liquid, licking his lips, then slammed the mug back down. “That’s two cities they’ve destroyed now,” he said, “ – first Wood Oak, now London. This is getting way out of hand…”

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Blaze nodded, her expression grim but firm. “We’ll stop them, Axel,” she whispered. “We always do.” She finished her tea and set the mug aside, faking a yawn. “I’m sure Adam and Murphy can find something of interest in all that shit we downloaded from their systems…” Axel took a deep breath. “Yeah.” He smiled, then decided to change the subject. “So, how are you holding up?” She avoided his gaze. “I’m hanging in there, as always. As you can imagine, this whole experience has been one hell of an emotional rollercoaster for me!” “I thought as much,” Axel said. “But I’m okay, I guess,” she continued. “I must admit, I was pretty freaked out by some of the experiments we saw. Like The Twelfth One. She seemed to have the ability to turn into pure energy…” Axel nodded, a concerned expression coming over his face as Blaze shuddered inwardly. “What’s important is that I’m alive, and I have you. That’s all that matters.…” Blaze murmured, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I love you, Axel. I’ve never stopped loving you...” Axel took her hand, and looked into her eyes. Blaze. She was beautiful. Everything about her – her face, her eyes, it was all there. She was perfect, and had the body to match. He’d been through so much with her, they were like soul mates. It just wasn’t the same living without her. He wanted her. So much. “I love you too, Blaze. I want to be with you again. I can’t stand not being with you. What’s happened between us in the past – it doesn’t matter. All that matters now is that we’re alive, together, and we love each other, no matter what else Shiva has in store for us. Blaze, I want to be there for you, to the end.” She drank it all in. Yes. This was what she really wanted. “Kiss me,” she breathed. He lowered his mouth to kiss her, and she responded, opening her mouth beneath his. The kiss was passionate and full of energy. Axel pulled away then, and said, “You know, Blaze, the situation is bleak. We may not survive this one. This could be our last night together…” She put a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Axel,” she whispered, “I know.” They stared into each others eyes. Quickly and quietly, they both took off their clothes, then Blaze slid on top of him, running her fingernails down his bare chest. She took his manhood with her right hand and began running it up and down at the base, and then she kissed him, her tongue slippery and sweet as it intertwined with his. Axel moaned and squeezed both of her breasts in his hands, running his fingers over her round, hard nipples. He groped them wildly, then put his hands over her buttocks and moved her closer to him. He reached a hand down, found her hot wet hole, then inserted his forefingers into her vagina. Blaze gasped, swinging her hair back, as Axel fingered her, then gritted her teeth and smiled as Axel took his erect penis in his hand, guiding it to her vagina. “Fuck me,” she grunted, forcing the penis in, gasping at the tingling that thrilled her system. “Oh yes!”

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Axel gently ran his hands over her back, massaging every beautiful muscle, then brought them round to squeeze her breasts as he began thrusting back and forth, fucking her. Blaze gasped. “Oh, yes! Axel! Fuck me! Oh, yes! Fuck me!” Axel wiped sweat from his eyes as they changed position. Blaze got on all fours, buttocks held high in the air, and swung her head back to watch as Axel came up from behind and started to fuck her. She closed her eyes, licking her lips and gasped as she rocked back and forth. Axel gasped, looking down to watch himself fucking her. It was a great sight, and it felt so gooood! “Harder!” Blaze gagged, her lips pouted, teeth bared. “Give it to me harder!” She stopped, turned round and lay on her back, spreading her legs wide, and Axel straddled on top of her, beginning to fuck her again. “Ooooh,” Blaze purred, biting her lower lip. “Right there…oohhh…” she giggled. “Yeah! Axel, fuck me!” He swallowed, nearing his peak. He looked into her eyes, flattered at the exotic, burning stare that twinkled back at him, and he gritted his teeth then, beginning to ejaculate. Blaze squealed with pleasure as she felt Axel’s hot semen enter her body. “Uh! Uh! Yeah!” Then she came, a hot, gushing release. “Fuck!” Axel shuddered over her, then relaxed. They had become one, in a blissful act of physical love. They lay together for some time afterward, happy to be back together in their wonderful relationship. *** The hotel was bland and not particularly impressive, but it suited their needs well. They were in a remote town in northwest Philadelphia County, fifty clicks from the wrecked cloning facility. It was remote enough to be safe, at least while they got some sleep and recovered from the day’s stressful events. But Joe Musashi couldn’t sleep. He sat alone in his hotel room, contemplating the situation. It was deadly serious. The New Syndicate had detonated a nuclear warhead over London, killing millions, and it was quickly having an effect on world affairs, according to the news programme he’d watched. At this point, he could only guess what the New Syndicate was trying to achieve, but whatever their goals, they were a great threat that had to be destroyed forever. Adam Hunter, along with his FBI colleagues, had taken the data retrieved from the Syndicate database back to Washington, where it was being analysed by top men from the Pentagon. It would no doubt yield some very interesting results, and Musashi was anxious to move in on The Hand as soon as possible. Adam had promised to contact Axel on his satellite phone the moment they had the location of the New Syndicate’s main headquarters. Things were heating up, one way or another, and Musashi only hoped that fate was kind to them. Naoko, he thought to himself, determination boiling up inside him. I’m coming for you…

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16 Hong Kong

Days passed. Contrary to what the FBI had previously suspected, the New Syndicate’s main headquarters was not in the United States, but in Hong Kong. According to the data the team had downloaded from the cloning facility’s computer, the organisation was being led by an ‘Inner Circle’ operating out of the Bank of China Tower, their command center and council chambers on the top - the 70th – floor. The Tower was one of the tallest skyscrapers in Hong Kong, and was no doubt heavily guarded by the Syndicate’s army. How they had ever seized control of the building – which was publicly the headquarters of the Bank of China – remained a mystery. On the second day, the team regrouped in Washington, and were flown to Hong Kong on a US Air Force carrier travelling from the Pentagon. The next morning, they would hit the streets. *** The name “Hong Kong” was derived from the area around Aberdeen and Wong Chuk Hang on Hong Kong Island, where fragrant trees were once abundant and exported from. The body of water between Hong Kong Island and Kowloon Peninsula was Victoria Harbour, one of the deepest maritime ports in the world. It was an amazing place, and as Blaze and the rest of the team strolled through the dockyards, they appreciated the wealth of history and culture that emanated from their surroundings. “We must be cautious,” Musashi warned. “This area has been under Zeed control for many years.” Axel looked at him and nodded. “Understood.” They passed through a marketplace, scanning the faces of the crowd around them. When they emerged from the other side, they moved into an alley way that led towards the Tower. Before they’d gone fifty meters, they were set upon by a large group of thugs dressed in black suits. The thugs were large, dark skinned, and wore dark sunglasses to mask their expressions to intimidating effect. The apparent leader of the group, Gold, held a pistol in one hand. “Well, well, well,” he said. “What do we have here? I’m afraid I cannot allow you to go any further.” “Allow this!” Skate roared, leaping into the air, twisting his rollerblades down into Gold’s face. “Corkscrew Kick!” Gold collapsed to the ground, his skull smashed. Skate wasted no time, jabbing the man’s gut with his fists then rearing back and cracking the steel toe of his ‘blade back into his face, into his mouth – Gold spluttered blood.

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At that moment, the air was lit up with gunfire, pistols cracking, bullets whizzing past their ears. Axel ducked and leapt to one side, pulling up his multicharge weapon. He got to his knees, aimed, and blasted four shots, each finding their mark amongst the advancing thugs. Adam spun in 360 degrees, lifting his left leg sharply as he did so, cracking a thug who leapt at him in the face. He then pounded his fists into the face of a second thug and backhanded a third. “Allright!” Max shouted. “I love a good street fight!” He charged forward, spinning into a human wrecking ball, knocking over another group of black-suits. “Thunder!” Blaze gritted her teeth, sweat pouring, as she blasted wave upon wave of fireballs towards the attackers. She leapt up, twisting her agile body, throwing more fireballs down. They landed violently on the thugs, burning and killing them with electric, fiery force. She landed on her feet, then ran forward and did a sliding tackle, fiery waves of her aura glowing in her trail. More thugs fell. Musashi grabbed one of the thugs and launched his fist into his head, then yanked the head down onto his knee. The thug recoiled and spluttered blood, then Musashi unsheathed his katana, leapt into the air and slashed it down in a wide arc, killing him. Musashi charged into the crowd, expertly cutting them down with silent, unearthly precision. By now, the charge on Axel’s pistol was depleted, and he was throwing the weapon aside, stretching his arms, running into the fray. He could see a lot more thugs rushing down the backstreet ahead, coming to reinforce the others. He leapt up, cracked his foot into a thug’s head, then launched into a thundering uppercut that split the skin on the goon’s face. “Bare Knuckle!” Another thug ran towards him holding a glass bottle, swinging it at him, grinning intensely. Axel dodged, then kicked the bottle aside and brought his right elbow into the man’s face. He struggled back, his nose broken, and Axel grabbed the bottle from the ground and smashed it into his face, twisting the glass and pushing hard. The thug screamed and then fell to the ground. “Shit!” He heard Adam shout. “Neo Zeed forces are zeroing on our position. We’re getting dangerously outnumbered. Damn, if only Dr. Zan were here…” “Keep fighting!” Axel shouted, letting loose another uppercut. Max heard the sound of motorbikes, getting closer. Oh, shit. Two bikers roared past on yellow dirtbikes, swinging metal chains at them. Max held out his arms and took the full blow, simultaneously clotheslining both of them, gritting his teeth, absorbing the pain. Blaze’s aura was raging inside her, and she allowed it to build now, higher and more powerful than she had ever allowed it to before. After seeing the abilities of the Twelfth One at the cloning facility, she knew the kind of potential that was dormant in her DNA, and she lusted for that kind of power. She closed her eyes tight, screaming, the pain immense as she tried to draw as much as she could from her aura. The wind was blowing fiercely now, her hands glowing with blue energy that crackled and sparkled in the chaos, and the sprawling attackers were backing off now, apparently aware of what Blaze Fielding might be capable of…

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She roared, unable to contain herself any longer, and launched a huge fireball towards them. The impact smashed though the crowd of attackers, killing a vast number of them. Then she launched more fireballs, beating the crowd back. Axel stopped, watching in amazement. He saw Adam and the others stop also, as Blaze moved unbelievably fast, jumping and running along walls, fireballs blazing, taking the Neo Zeed reinforcements all by herself. “Go Blaze!” Adam cheered. Blaze didn’t hear him. She was fighting like a crazy woman, more determined to end the Syndicate’s regime than ever before. Mere seconds later, the last of the crowd of attackers was destroyed beneath her foot. When she came and rejoined the others, she saw them staring at her in amazement. “I’ve never seen you fight like that before,” Axel said, putting his arm around her. Blaze smiled. “It’s the first time I’ve ever really let myself go. And you know what? It felt fucking good. Now come on, let’s get to that Tower.” *** The Bank of China Tower was located at No.1, Garden Road, a flourishing centre of activity in Hong Kong’s business and financial core. It towered 70 floors above ground level, and was still one of the tallest office buildings in Hong Kong, a symbol of strength, vitality, growth and enterprise. As they approached the building, they saw a rippling in the air, and a large figure wearing a stealth suit de-cloaked in front of them. He was huge, dressed in purple-red samurai armour. Musashi recognised the figure immediately. “Yamato!” he shouted. “So you’re still alive!” The towering, armoured figure seemed to chuckle with amusement. “Joseph Musashi – we meet again, at last. Yes, I survived the Zeed, and I will survive you. My master has personally appointed me as the guardian of this building. None shall pass, especially the likes of you.” Musashi shook his head. “What happened to you, Yamato? We were friends…” “I serve only one Master now!” Yamato roared. “The Hand!” “Then I will do what I must…” Musashi breathed, moving into a fighting stance. “You will try,” Yamato uttered, then dashed to one side, throwing shurikens. Musashi charged at him, using his katana to chop the shurikens from the air. He moved to skewer Yamato – - and Yamato dodged, and seemed to split into three identical individuals“Decoy!” Blaze blinked. “What the fuck?” “An illusion of the mind!” Musashi hissed, flipping his katana up and sending it slicing through one of the doppelgangers. He rolled forward and cut the second one down with as much simplicity. “Do not take me for a fool, Yamato! You know me better than that!” Yamato charged at Blaze, bringing down his armoured head like a battering ram, roaring with anger. She dodged, and saw Max bring his fists down on the back of

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Yamato’s neck. Yamato grunted, and jammed a shuriken into Max’s chest. Max screamed and fell back. “Bare Knuckle!” Axel came in with his fists, catching Yamato off-guard, but Yamato managed to roll aside and swing a sai at Axel’s waist. The weapon sliced flesh. Axel gritted his teeth and blinked through the pain, then grabbed Yamato by his shoulders, flipped over him, and slammed him to the concrete violently. Something cracked, and finally the armoured hulk gave way and collapsed to the floor. “Everyone okay?” Axel puffed. “Max?” Max nodded wearily. “Got a shuriken stuck in me, but I’m okay for now.” Blaze winced. “Maybe you should get that looked at, Max…” “No way,” Max insisted. “We’ve come too far now. A wound like this is not going to take me out of the final fight.” “You’ll be fine,” Axel said. “Right now, I think we should hustle along. It won’t be long before they discover Yamato is dead…” “Get inside the Tower, quickly!” Musashi insisted, and they sprinted past the security checkpoint towards the main entrance. They filed through the door, each of them prepared for whatever horrors that awaited them within.

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17 Bank of China Tower

They pushed ahead into the dark, Axel taking point, leaving the front door open. There was just enough light to see where the hall branched right, which was all the light they needed. - right, walk, door on the right, walk, steps to the left – It looped through his mind, the directions simple but he didn’t want to make even a tiny mistake. Two strides forward and a Neo Zeed assassin came at them, a dark, silent blur, and Axel opened up. Bam-bam-bam! Three shots and the man’s head disintegrated, soft plopping sounds as the pieces hit the floor. Four more assassins piled towards them down the corridor they wanted… -don’t think about it, now, go now – “Now!” Axel said, and Blaze ran out from behind him, followed by the others, darting to the right and down the hall as he opened fire again, two- and three-round bursts. More Neo Zeed… Axel ducked, covered his head with one arm, and sprinted. He saw Blaze’s silhouette in a doorway on the right and plunged ahead, running directly into her outstretched arm. Blaze grabbed a handful of his shirt and jerked him inside, slamming the door closed. They ran up a flight of stairs and came to an elevator atrium. There were two lifts. According to their downloaded blueprints, one lift would lead to the office of The Hand, the other to the very top floor, the council chamber, and the office of Leon Shiva. “This is where we must part ways,” Musashi said, moving to the first elevator. “I will make my way to The Hand. I must face him alone.” Axel nodded, and swallowed dryly. “We’ll handle Shiva. Good luck, Musashi, I really mean that. It was good to know you…” Musashi clenched his jaw muscles and bowed. “The same to you. It was an honour working with you all. Perhaps we will meet again, when this is all over…” Without another word, he stepped into the lift and pressed the control, the doors sliding shut peacefully. Blaze licked her lips and took a deep breath, watching him go. “I hope he makes it.” Axel nodded. “I’m sure he will. Now come on, I’ll bet Shiva’s waiting for us – on the 70th level.” Blaze felt a shiver go down her spine as they stepped into the second elevator. This was it…the final confrontation with Leon Shiva loomed ahead of them, and she wondered what aces he was hiding up his sleeve, ready to pull out on them at the last minute. He had already proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was ruthless and evil enough to destroy millions of people, but Blaze knew the man… she knew that he

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wasn’t stupid, that he did seem to have some kind of conscience, and he was operating some master plan…a revolution…originally conceived by Mr. X. A supposed new era for humanity. She shook her head, watching silently as Axel pressed the button for the 70th floor. Whatever Shiva was up to, they would be putting a stop to it, right here, right now. *** Joe Musashi closed his eyes and steadied himself as he stood in the elevator, watching the indicator tick its way up to level 55, where The Hand would be waiting for him. It seemed that fate had inexorably pushed them to this final confrontation, and the winner would decide the fate of the world… The elevator doors chimed and rolled open, and he ducked into a hallway filled with exotic plants. Sticking to shadow, he made his way through a network of corridors before emerging into a huge, spherical chamber two storeys deep. A platform extended into the middle, where The Hand stood, awaiting him. Just above his head, a metal cage was suspended from the ceiling, and inside was Naoko – Musashi’s fiancée. Musashi felt the urge to cry out her name when he saw her, but he kept quiet, remembering his training, and prepared himself psychologically for battle. The Hand would be no easy opponent. He stepped closer down the platform, away from the shadows, and saw that The Hand was not wearing his samurai armour, something he was always known to do. Instead, The Hand was bare-chested and his bald head was exposed. Around his neck was a chain adorned with the first piece of the Essence of Jutsu. His facial features were gaunt and repulsive. Naoko’s weary face brightened when she saw Musashi. She poked an arm through her cage and waved. “Joseph!” she cried. “I knew you’d come!” The Hand’s eyes fell on Musashi, and he grinned evilly. “At last,” he breathed, his voice dark and sinister. “Joseph Musashi, you have finally arrived. I knew that my…bait would be impossible for you to resist…” Musashi unsheathed his katana and pointed the tip in The Hand’s direction. “If you have so much as touched her…” “The girl remains unharmed,” The Hand blurted. “Unlike your sensei…the old man had it coming. He was dabbling with powers he could not possibly comprehend.” “How dare you speak of Harada with such a tone!” Musashi hissed. “You will pay for what you have done to my family! I have sworn an oath to kill you, and your words hasten your destruction!” The Hand ignored him. “You have the second piece of the artefact, don’t you…” He sniffed the air, as if he could read it. “I can sense it. You carry it with you as we speak!” Musashi braced himself, then launched at The Hand, swinging his katana. The Hand laughed, swinging his right elbow in an arc, then flipped his wrist in such a way that caught Musashi off balance. Musashi dropped his katana, then The Hand kicked his legs forward, slamming Musashi away and to the ground. Picking up the katana, The Hand moved to kill Musashi, swinging the sword –

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-and Musashi rolled sideways, flipped up, then slammed towards The Hand with impossible speed, using his right foot like a bullet. The Hand stumbled back, but was bringing the sword down, moving to cut Musashi’s legs off. Musashi yelled and dodged the attack, then sent a fist squarely into the man’s groin. The Hand doubled over, then Musashi leapt up and brought his elbow down fiercely on the top of the man’s skull. The Hand crumpled. “You’re pathetic,” Musashi spat at him. “Men like you have no true honour…” “Son of a dog!” The Hand roared, and started to jab at him with the katana, trying to skewer him. “The Essence of Jutsu is mine! Give me your piece! Or I will carve it from your still twitching corpse!” Musashi backed off a little, and saw The Hand brandish the katana with a playful grin. “I have waited a long time for this moment…” he said. “To kill the great Musashi, vanquisher of the Zeed, hero of the Japanese people…” He screwed up his face and spat at the ground. “I will take great pleasure in killing you myself…” Musashi moved, ghosting towards The Hand with lightning speed, throwing two shurikens into his chest, slamming his fists into his face. The Hand finally relinquished his grip on the katana and it clattered to the floor. Musashi kicked it aside, then reached over and grabbed the artefact piece suspended around The Hand’s neck. He yanked it off, the chain breaking, then leapt back across the room to a safer distance, bringing together both artefact pieces. They slotted together perfectly, the compounded object starting to glow with a mysterious yellow luminance. The Hand recovered, and noticed his piece of the artefact was missing. Then he saw Musashi holding both pieces, holding the combined artefact… “No, you fool!” The Hand cried. “The power is mine, and mine alone!” It was all going wrong… He moved with reborn determination, managing to slip his fingers around the katana’s grip and swinging it up towards Musashi’s position - but he was too late. One second was all it took for Joseph Musashi to find himself in the Essence of Jutsu. It was a state of consciousness he could put himself into quite frequently at will, whilst meditating, and now it seemed to flow naturally as he was absorbed into the power of the combined artefact. The second became an eternity… Seizing his chance, Musashi called upon the mythical Jutsu of Ikazuchi, which would render him temporarily invulnerable, a power of ancient gods. Yellow energy, like lightning, sprang from out of nowhere and engulfed his form, and he felt himself growing hotter, more powerful, like a force of the universe… “No!” The Hand screamed again, but his protesting was futile. Musashi absorbed the katana attacks, then sent out his fists, in a trance-like, hypnotic state. Yellow, fire-like energy crackled all over his form. He was like a God now, mind over matter, and he would make sure that The Hand suffered severely for what he had done.

***

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When the power finally wore off, Musashi gasped and fell to his knees, dropping the artefact to the floor. It came apart, the two individual pieces silent and still. He moaned through pain, and got to his feet, trying to steady himself. An amazing experience! he thought. But a power that could only corrupt Men… He turned to look at the body of The Hand, which was slumped on the floor behind him, shredded, covered in blood and dark meaty goblets. It was not a pleasant sight… “Joseph!” Musashi blinked, and realised that for a moment, he had forgotten about Naoko. In that blinding, pulsing moment of power, his only thoughts had been about revenge. How disturbing… He shook the thought aside, and moved to a control panel that operated the hydraulics system, lowering Naoko’s cage to the platform. He punched another button and the cage lock was released, the front panel sliding up, freeing Naoko. She ran to Musashi, and he embraced her in his arms, holding her tight. Tears streamed down Naoko’s cheeks. “Oh, Joseph! My love! I knew you would come for me! I just knew it!” “Everything is going to be okay, my love,” Musashi said and turned his head, gazing out the window. He saw half a dozen FBI helicopters chopping the air outside the building, moving up to the top level. Things would be getting ugly here, and fast… “Come, my love,” Musashi told her. “You have seen far too much death for one day. I will carry you to safety…my friends will take care of the Syndicate Boss.” Naoko nodded, and climbed onto his back. Musashi stooped to retrieve the pieces of the artefact, then headed for the elevator.

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18 Syndicate Boss

Blaze bit her lip anxiously on the long elevator ride up to the 70th level. She was nervous, and adrenaline surged through her body, her heart beating rapidly. This wasn’t just a personal fight – the fate of the entire world was depending on the outcome of this confrontation with Shiva, and if somehow they failed, if somehow Shiva escaped… He won’t, she told herself. Blaze shook her head, trying to stay focused on the present moment. She blinked, verging on exhaustion, and knew she was going to have to rely on every last scrap of energy she had left, in order to survive to the end. Her eyes went to the level indicator… 67… 68… 69… When the lift finally stopped at 70, the doors rolled open, revealing a long, windowless corridor with bare white walls. Blaze took a quick deep breath as Axel gave the order to move out, and followed him as he sprinted out of the lift, down the corridor. There were bizarre paintings on either side, framed in gold. Blaze didn’t recognise any of them, but noted the somewhat disturbing nature of the imagery… They came to a set of wooden double-doors, marked with a plaque that read ‘Council Chamber’. There was no guard. “Anyone else think this has been just a little too easy?” Skate moaned, watching Axel test the door. It was unlocked. “There’s nothing easy about any of this,” Blaze told him, frowning. “Believe me.” Axel nodded with a weary expression on his face. “Keep moving, people. The clock is ticking.” *** Leon Shiva sat in a control room adjacent to his office, the room dark except for the flicker from a bank of observation monitors, six of them, each changing view on five-second rotations. There were shots from the council chamber, the Hand’s chamber, as well as the chambers of the other council members, though they were empty. From here Shiva could pretty much keep tabs on what was going on in the building. He gazed at the soundless black-and-white screens without really looking at them; most of his attention was focused on the incoming transmission from the cleanup crew. The three-man team – well, two and a pilot – was en route by chopper, and mostly silent; they were professionals after all, not given to macho banter or juvenile jokes, which meant Shiva was hearing a lot of static. That was all right; the

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white noise went well with the blank and staring face he saw on the monitor, the Hand’s dead body covered in blood. The Hand had been killed, by the adversary he’d spoken of, ‘Musashi’, and now Blaze Fielding and her cohorts were coming for Shiva. “ETA thirty minutes, over,” the pilot said, his voice crackling through the dimly lit room. Shiva leaned in. “Copy that.” Silence again. There was no need to talk about what would happen, and though the channel was scrambled, it was best not to say more than was necessary, anyway. The New Syndicate had been built on a foundation of secrecy, a characteristic still honoured by everyone in the upper echelons of management. It’s coming down again, Shiva thought idly, watching the screens. He saw Blaze’s team of do-gooders file out of the lift on the 70th level, and gritted his teeth in anticipation. He would take great satisfaction in killing them all, before being flown to safety in the chopper. With these pesky ex-cops on his doorstep, one of them now a Fed, it was only a matter of time before special forces teams would move in, and by then it would be too late, so he would need to evacuate, move to another location. The key to remaining hidden from the world was to keep moving, to stay one step ahead at all times… The cleanup crew would be staying behind to remove all evidence of the New Syndicate ever being here… The corner of Shiva’s mouth twitched as the camera changed again. The Hand. Dead. Shiva took a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring at the flickering image of the corpse. What the Hand’s death would mean to the Neo Zeed organisation was unclear, but Neo Zeed was a part of the New Syndicate now, and Shiva hoped he would be able to sway the Neo Zeed gangs to follow him. That, or die in the fires of revolution, as I create a new world for mankind…anyone who does not follow me will only be left behind…a relic of the Old Age. He stood, and went to confront the team of do-gooders in the council chamber. ***

Shiva burst into the council chamber like a bat out of hell. “Well, well, well!” he roared. “Look who decided to show up.” He was dressed in dark fighting robes, and a red bandanna was tied around his head, his long dark curls swaying as he strolled casually towards them. “Leon Shiva,” Blaze said, adopting a judo fighting stance. “We meet again.” “Ah, Blaze,” Shiva grinned. “How are you feeling after your little excursion to our cloning facility in Philadelphia? I trust your visit was…informative?” Blaze swallowed, tears in her eyes. “You have used and abused me on a level that goes beyond words. You’re a monster, just like Mr. X. Your experiments are evil.” Shiva took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. “Evil…is a point of view,” he said, then his gaze went to Axel. “How typical that Axel Stone be with you,” Shiva

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mocked, looking at the ex-cop disgustedly. “Tell me Axel, does fucking this whore make it all worth it?” Axel’s nostrils flared, staring Shiva down. “Fuck you!” Shiva turned to regard the others. “And Adam Hunter! FBI now, I hear. I’m guessing that’s how you had the resources to find me so quickly…” “That’s right,” Adam sneered, “and it won’t be long before a whole lotta Feds come blazing down on your genocidal ass.” Shiva laughed, the sound deep and booming, reverberating around the council chamber. “It amuses me, it really does. How little you understand…” he shook his head. Adam frowned. Shiva’s eyes fell on Max. “Max Hatchett, our friend from the pharmaceutical business, Neo-Pharm.” He smiled, looking over Max’s huge form. “The turncoat. The slime from the street, the infamous ‘Crusher’.” He shook his head. “And Adam Hunter’s younger brother, Skate!” Skate took a step back. “People like you make me sick. You’re nothing but a terrorist!” Shiva laughed again. “Terrorist? No, no, no, no, no, you’ve got it all twisted! When this is all over, I will be remembered throughout history as Shiva the Great, the man who ushered in a New Age for mankind! Set it free from the trappings of its old ways!” “What the fuck are you talking about?” Skate said. “You’re setting off nuclear bombs, killing millions of people. What the fuck is that going to accomplish?” “I am talking about the revolution…” Shiva said softly. Blaze tensed. “Yes, it’s true, we are setting off nuclear bombs, destroying cities, and millions of people have been killed. But do you know what is getting destroyed along with it? The computer cores and archives of many of the world’s banks and international facilities. A great deal of criminal evidence, enemies to our cause, satellite control systems, everything…the stock market has crashed, there is chaos at the United Nations…” “It figures,” Blaze parped in. “Destroy enough of these cities, as far and wide across the world as possible, and the rest of mankind will go back to zero. Back to day one. They will be free for the first time in their lives, without any form of government or control….” “You’re talking about anarchy,” Max said. “Without control or police, people would end up killing each other…” “Exactly,” Shiva smiled, turned and paced around him. “That’s the way the world is supposed to be. How nature intended it.” “Since when did the Syndicate ever give a fuck about nature?” Blaze hissed. “Your experiments on me were far from natural!” “You were supposed to be a weapon,” Shiva shouted, frustrated at her constant inability to understand that. “A weapon that was supposed to be used during the changeover, when society finally fades away and anarchy is induced. You, the First One, would have been perfect, such a powerful warrior,” he shook his head in disappointment. “Even the Twelfth One’s powers pale in comparison to the sheer potential still untapped in your DNA! If only the memory wipe at Edgemont had been completed…” “Yeah, well it wasn’t, and you’ve got me to thank for that,” said Axel, an intensity to his gaze that said he meant business.

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Shiva frowned. “Indeed. Alas, Blaze was a weapon, a means-to-an-end, but things seem to be going quite well without her by my side anyway…” “Why hate the world so much?” Axel demanded. “Why the fuck are you doing this? What is this revolution?” “Consumerism is one of the many problems!” Shiva spat. “I want to liberate the world from a corporate controlled society, wipe out debt, get rid of all the shit that has festered and caused our race to stagnate for so many years now...television, the internet, broadcast radio…it all needs to be destroyed for the revolution to be a success. We need to go back to nature, to live in the wild, our lives intertwined with the world and not superimposed on it. We should be allowed to express our primal nature, to be alive and reclaim our independent strength, courage and power.” “But why?” Max asked. “Think of all we’ve achieved, as a species, in just the past few hundred years..” Shiva ignored him. “The media influences the way people think. And there is a whole blanket of political correctness underlying everything, making people act the way they are ‘supposed to’, according to the dictates of society. It’s like mind control; if you don’t think a certain way about someone or something, you are politically incorrect and can risk punishment...” Shiva realised he was shouting in frustration, and he cleared his throat, licking his lips, taking a deep breath of air as he did so. “Global society is losing its intellectual and spiritual freedom.” “I still don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Adam frowned. Shiva glared at him. “Living in this society is confining. If you don’t act and think according to their laws and way of life you are branded ‘evil’ or a ‘criminal’ and are either executed, put in a cage for x amount of years or shunned in some other way. Civil freedom is a myth. People have been brainwashed to think they’re free, when in fact they’re forced into a vast array of concepts from childhood which moulds them into automatons. Automatons to serve the ‘greater good’. “Blaze Fielding was different. Having survived the destruction of her village, she lived feral for many years…for years she was living as she was supposed to, surviving. She made the perfect test subject for Project Homo Superior. “Government and forced living needs to be changed drastically. The world needs reawakening, needs to be set free, to return to nature. We are not special or created by a loving God. This is a concept that drives society as we know it. Society is continually destructive to environment, ecosystems, and the free will of humans as a natural life form. It is a barbaric control mechanism to satisfy the greed of others. I for one do not want to be a part of this, and the revolution will set things straight, the way they are supposed to be.” “Don’t you fear God?” Blaze probed. Shiva snorted. “God is a word. The cosmos in which we live is organic. You don’t need to think of it in an authoritarian pattern, namely there being a God who makes it all work, because that doesn’t really answer anything, does it? That’s just applying to the world an explanation derived from the political systems of the ancient Near East. Did you realise that? The great political systems of the Egyptians and the Chaldeans, where there was an enormous father figure in charge of everything, became the model for the idea of monotheism. And these great kings, like Hammurabi and Amenhotep IV, laid down legal systems so man thought of a prince, a king of kings, a lord of lords, in the words of the Book of Common Prayer. It’s a political idea, and just another of the many twisted societal things that must be changed. It’s time for us to evolve. The revolution is here.”

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Blaze gathered herself, sensing the fight would begin at any moment. Shiva was really going off on one now, and it was clear that he was a very disturbed guy, with some very deep-rooted problems. In a way, some of the things he was saying seemed to make sense, but Shiva, like his predecessor, was a madman, pure and simple. His ‘vision’, the vision shared by Mr. X, the revolution, would have to be stopped at all costs before any more innocent lives were destroyed. The fate of the world, of mankind, depended on it.

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19 Final Fight

“Enough talk!” Adam Hunter shouted, eager to take Shiva down as soon as possible. “It’s over, Shiva. You’re under arrest…” “I think not,” Shiva muttered, crouched, then launched across the polished floor towards Adam, knocking him down with his arms. Without pausing, he flipped into the air and brought a vertical kick to Blaze’s face as she stepped closer. “Final Crash!” She gagged and fell back, blood running through her nostrils. Shiva grinned, turning to look at Axel, Max and Skate, who were advancing toward him. “I will take great pleasure in beating you all to death,” he said coolly, “before making a tactical retreat. You have been a thorn in my side for far too long, and I will end this, here, now!” “Wrong!” Axel shouted, and ran to attack Shiva, but Shiva anticipated the move and rolled aside, then drove a kick into Axel’s side. Axel fell back. Shiva sprang across the room with unnatural speed, and caught Max and Skate off-guard, moving faster than their reaction time, pummelling them with his fists. Skate cried out in surprise and pain as he collapsed, Max violently falling on top of him. Then he felt a jolting pain in his head, and then again, and again, and he realised that Shiva was kicking him hard, in the head... His vision went white. “No!” Adam wailed, and grabbed Shiva from behind, sending a kick into his lower legs. It cracked on metal, and Adam cried out in pain. Synthetic lower body…Damn I’d forgotten about that! Shiva sent a backhander into Adam’s face, then as Adam fell, he spun around and launched a kick deep into his groin. Adam howled in agony and almost passed out. Jesus, Blaze thought. He’s tougher than ever before… She summoned a fireball as Shiva moved to attack her, then threw it towards him, the blast knocking him back, stunning him for a moment. He laughed, wiping sweat from his eyes, pulling some kind of advanced weapon from his fighting robes. He lifted it towards Blaze and pulled the trigger – - and a deadly bolt of green, ionised energy shot towards her. She rolled aside, dodging the blast. It struck the oak table in the centre of the room, blasting a chunk of it away, then ricocheted toward the window, smashing it in a shower of broken glass. Blaze summoned another fireball… Then Shiva was moving, running across the council chamber, towards the open doorway and corridor beyond. Every few strides he took he turned back, firing off another volley from his weapon. The ionised slugs roared past Blaze’s ears as she dodged them, her senses perfectly in tune with her environment. Then Shiva was gone, pelting down the corridor to the stairwell leading to the roof.

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“He’s heading for the roof!” Skate shouted. “There’s a helipad!” Blaze sprinted after Shiva, then turned back to look at them as they stood there, recovering from the fight. “We can’t let him get away!” she called. “Come on!” They went.

*** They emerged from the stairwell onto the roof, over one thousand feet above street level. The helipad was small, a circle of yellow paint on the asphalt that showed a pilot where to set down. Shiva stood there, glaring at them, and went to fire his weapon again, but it clicked, the charge depleted. He tossed it aside without bothering to look then rolled towards them, spinning his legs up and over, hitting heads. He retreated, then turned to regard them. “You’re pathetic? Do you realise that?” Shiva shouted, raising his voice over the wind. “Always gallivanting around calling yourselves the ‘good guys’…it’s sickening!” Axel frowned. “Join me. I offer you this one chance. Join the Syndicate, or die in the fires of revolution.” Overhead, a Syndicate helicopter circled the air, preparing to land. Shiva glanced at it, saw that it was the cleanup crew, right on schedule, and he smiled. “This is the end of the road for you, my friends…” Suddenly, the helicopter exploded in a vast fiery cloud, and the building beneath their feet seemed to rumble from the pressure. They heard windows smashing, people screaming. “What the fuck?” Shiva mouthed, shielding his face from the blast, struggling to keep his balance. Then, a group of FBI helicopters hovered into view, outfitted with miniguns. They shone spotlights on the roof, illuminating Shiva. “Leon Shiva!” A voice boomed through a megaphone. “Get down on the ground! Now!” “It’s over,” Adam said softly, and a smile came over his face. “Never!” Shiva roared. He charged at Blaze, and pushed her hard towards the building’s edge. She tensed, blocking his stabbing fists as he made one last desperate attempt to kill her. In one swift motion, Axel ran to join them, and swerved his right fist into the air, bringing it up with all the force of his muscles. “Bare Knuckle!” Blaze ducked and rolled out of the way as Shiva took the full brunt of Axel’s attack. He grunted, falling back, then yelped in panic as he realised he’d been knocked from the building’s edge. “Noooooo!” He reached up his arms, flailing in mid-air, trying to grab for the ledge, but it was no use. Leon Shiva screamed, and plummeted seventy storeys to his death. ***

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Blaze stood by the edge, watching Shiva fall. When he impacted on the street far below, she continued to watch, undeterred by the sight of death and blood. She took it in with great pleasure and relief…seeing it for herself… Shiva is dead. She took a deep breath and exhaled heavily, then stepped away from the edge, moving onto the helipad where one of the FBI choppers was hovering, moving to land. The sound of rotor blades was deafening. When the chopper had set down, the side door rolled open and Murphy stepped out, a large grin on his youthful face. “Murphy!” Adam called, relieved to see him. “What’s the situation?” “The military is assaulting the Syndicate missile facilities across the globe as we speak,” Murphy reassured him. “The next few hours will be critical, as we work to secure all the Syndicate’s nuclear material.” He paused, and licked his lips. “So how did things go here?” “Good,” Axel chimed in. “Shiva is dead, thanks to your timely intervention, Murphy.” Murphy grinned. “Just doing my job, Ax. Now get on board. I imagine you want to get out of here.” Blaze nodded, and smiled. “Our job here is done…but I’ve got a feeling this isn’t over yet…” Axel nodded. “There’s still plenty of work to do before the Syndicate is totally finished. But with Shiva dead, at least their dreams of a Second Dark Age are trashed…” They boarded the chopper, and it lifted away, carrying them to safety.

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20 Aftermath

It was a beautiful sunny day in Los Angeles, one week since the team had returned from Hong Kong. Axel drove his dark blue Mercedes through the midday traffic, wearing sunglasses. Blaze was sitting up front with him, while Max and Skate were seated in the rear, looking out the windows at the passing cars. They pulled off the Santa Monica Freeway and entered a quiet, low-end commercial street. “The New Syndicate has become fractured, on the verge of collapse,” Axel was saying, keeping his eyes on the road. “With Shiva and The Hand both dead, there are a lot of different gangs left without leadership. There’s a lot of in-fighting going on… Adam tells me a splinter group has formed…” “There are still members of the New Syndicate High Council unaccounted for,” Max said. “But so far, we know very little about them. Only their names.” Skate pondered the information for a moment before speaking. “So we’re going to be tracking down these remaining Syndicate councillors, right?” he asked, looking at Blaze. Blaze nodded. “As long as they’re still out there, they still pose a threat. Like I said earlier, I’m establishing a detective agency to deal with the remnants of the Syndicate. In the meantime, I think we all need some R and R. There are a lot of things going on right now…” That got through to Skate. Blaze was right – after the bombing of London, the entire world had reacted, and there were a lot of radical, sweeping new laws being passed through Congress… the world was changing, as if they were on the very dawn of a new age… Just as Shiva predicted… “Are we going to be all right?” Skate asked then. “After London, I mean… is everything going to settle back to the way it was?” Blaze frowned, unsure of what to say. She looked at Axel. Axel took a deep breath. “Sorry, Skate. The destruction of a major city like London is going to change the world radically and there’s nothing you or me, or anyone, can do about it. As long as these other Syndicate councillors, not to mention the gangs they control, are still out there, the situation will only escalate.” “Sounds like Shiva’s plan is going to work out after all.” Skate muttered. Blaze shook her head. “Not while we’re around. Through my detective agency we’ll launch a campaign to bring them to justice. It’s not over, yet…” Skate clamped his mouth shut and nodded. The fight had only just begun… ***

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After dropping off Max and Skate, saying their goodbyes for the night, Axel drove Blaze home, to the house they shared in Beverley Hills. When they got inside, Blaze fell into the sofa. Axel went and got a couple of beers from the refrigerator, then came to join her. She took the beer he proffered with much enthusiasm, gulping it back eagerly. She wiped her mouth with the back of her left hand and set the beer bottle down on the coffee table. “Thanks,” she said. “I sure needed that.” Axel smiled, and took a swig of his own beer. “Yeah…” He cleared his throat, then reached into his jean pocket, pulling out a small jewellery box. “Blaze,” he said. “There’s something I want to ask you. Been on my mind for quite a while now, actually...” Slowly, he got down on one knee, and, opening the box, lifted it to her. Blaze gasped. “A diamond ring?!” “Will you marry me, Blaze Fielding?” he asked, looking into her eyes. She could see he was serious. Blaze grinned, tears forming in her eyes. “This is out of the blue! Oh, Axel, of course I’ll marry you! Yes! Fuck, yes!” She screamed in happiness. Axel got to his feet and laughed too, then embraced her in his arms. This was their moment. No matter what perils the future had in store for both of them, they would be facing them together. He took the expensive ring from its box and slipped it on Blaze’s finger. Her arms went around him and they kissed, long, passionate and full of love. *** The next morning, Axel had to leave at 0600 for a meeting with the President in Washington. It was a meeting that Blaze should have been attending, but she’d insisted on having a day off. Her whole experience over the past few days warranted some time out, and when Axel was gone, Blaze was alone in the house. She was going to take it easy for the day, probably just sit indoors and watch TV, while her scars, mental as well as physical, healed. When she’d made a breakfast of cereal and fried bread, she took it along with a glass of orange juice to the sofa, then began putting it away in earnest, watching a morning TV show. Minutes passed. Blaze sat, absorbed into the TV, chewing her food thoughtfully. “Surprise!” someone shouted suddenly, startling her. She jumped in her seat, her breakfast spilling over the living room carpet, and realised with shock horror that someone was standing behind the sofa – Head pain. Sharp and sudden. Everything went blank.

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Epilogue Evolution

She woke up naked with the feeling that it had happened before. But she couldn’t remember when or how or why. Or who she was. She was in a tube, she knew that much. She was also all wet. There was something on her face. Whatever it was, it allowed her to breathe underwater. Various tubes fed into her body, and she wondered if these tubes were providing her with food. The upright tube she was immersed in was in a laboratory of some kind. Two people were talking, one man, one woman. They were among the dozens of people in the laboratory, and the only ones whose words she could make out. She did not recognise either of them, though she felt she could. They both wore white clothing. She didn’t understand how she could know so much – like what a laboratory would look like – yet not remember so much more – like her own name. The woman said to the man, “Memory wipe procedure complete, regen program is spontaneous. It’s like she’s sucking energy out of thin air.” She had no idea what any of that meant. Except for “thin air”, which she assumed she had no access to, since she was surrounded by water. The man looked at her. “Can you hear me? Do you understand what I’m saying?” The thing on her mouth let her breathe, but kept her from talking. She remembered that nodding would work in this case, so she did. “Good.” The man turned to one of the other people in the laboratory. “Begin the purging process.” She heard a strange noise. Moments later, the water was down to her head – then her neck, her breasts, and so on, until the tube was empty. Hot air blasted her for a few seconds, drying her off. Then the tube opened, and one of the people in the laboratory removed the tubes and thing around her mouth. Now she could walk around freely. She started exploring the room, taking in the sights, sounds, textures – the different colours of all the pieces of furniture and clothes, the humming of the various pieces of equipment, the coldness of the floor against her bare feet. “Her progress is remarkable.” One of the people in white was talking about something – probably about her. “The genetic complexity is simply off the scale. And her powers, both physical and mental, seem to be developing at a geometric rate. Better than we could have hoped for…” She tried to talk. “W -” The sound came out scratchy. She tried again. “Where?” The man in charge prompted her. “Where are you?” She nodded. “You’re safe. Do you remember anything? Do you remember your name?”

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What was that? “Your name?” the man in charge said again. “Name?” she asked. “That’s right.” “My…name…is…” The concept was tickling at the back of her mind. She knew what a name was, she was pretty sure, but it wouldn’t come to her. She sighed. The man in charge turned to the other people. “I want her under twenty-fourhour observation. I want a complete set of blood work and chemical and electrolyte analysis by the end of the day.” Then, suddenly, it hit her. “…dreaming again. What’d you give her?” “…thirty of Trinomine…” “…thirty? That’s twice the usual dosage. Aren’t you worried about brain damage?” “Ah, Blaze, we seem to have come to an…impasse in your treatment.” “It’s not really up to you, my dear. The state has certain prerogatives here. You are a danger to yourself and others with your fantasies –” “I’m Axel Stone. Pack your socks, darling. We’re going for a ride.” “The local government is keeping a tight lid on it. They refused to comment when I approached them about it. But I do know it has something to do with your parents.” “Here’s to you, Blaze. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.” “He’s not a doctor, Blaze. He works for the federal government. Under the control of one of the highest-ranking members of the US Senate…” “Those were the days weren’t they, my dear. I fucked you like the worthless slut that you are...” “Well, well. What have we here? Blaze Fielding herself. What an honour.” “Stay real still, you fucker!” “Shoot him, Blaze, shoot him now!” “Okay then. You’re a free woman. I’ll keep in touch. Just remember to lay low for a while until this whole thing blows over.” “A robot? Are you saying that the Mr. X we killed was a machine?” “… the Syndicate has purchased Neo-Pharm…” “I don’t know, I can still feel the… aura of my body. I can’t shake it off.” “Two years ago, Dr. Dahm approached me and started telling me how the X Robot line had failed to perform adequately in the field. He proposed starting work on the next generation of X Robot. This next generation robot was codenamed Project Y.” “Once, perhaps, you were a person. A human. But not after the experiments. Not now. You have been genetically modified, Blaze.” “You were an experiment into creating a true superhuman. The first of your kind – homo superior – an elite unit that would help with Mr. X’s campaign to dominate the world. I believe you’re already familiar with one of the psychokinetic abilities we gave you?” “Dr. Dahm was the key to my plan. The world will pay for your meddling, big time.” “On the trail of Neo Zeed I learned of a plot to assassinate you tonight. Luckily, I was able to intervene before it was too late, as you can see…”

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“We are the next step in human evolution. And you – you are the First One – the Queen of our race. A revolution is coming, and Leon Shiva has…” “I am far superior, and if you could look into the eyes of an animal you would blindly feed upon…you would reach the same conclusion…” “You were supposed to be a weapon! To be used during the changeover, when society finally fades away and anarchy is induced. You, the First One, would have been perfect, such a powerful warrior…” “Sir!” That was one of the lab techs, who’d noticed something on the brain-wave pattern indicator and was trying to get the attention of the man in charge. Blue. One of the remaining Syndicate councillors… Blue, though, wasn’t paying attention to the tech, or Blaze herself. “Advanced reflex testing is also a priority. I want electrical impulses monitored and her -” “Sir!” that was the tech again. Sounding annoyed, Blue asked, “What is it?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “My name is Blaze, and I remember everything.” Blue went pale. He signalled one of the guards standing by the door, a thug named Garcia. Before he could do anything, Blaze lunged at Garcia, jabbing her fists into his gut then kneeing him in the face hard, cracking bone. Garcia screamed, and fell back. Two orderlies came out of nowhere to subdue her. She subdued them in about two and a half seconds. Then she grabbed Blue’s arm. She twisted it and pulled, yanking it out of the socket, making him scream in pain, then she flipped him over and hurled him across the lab. He collapsed painfully across a computer monitor. She wasted no time, ran up to him and brought her elbow down hard into his face. Then she threw him headfirst into the tank she’d been held in, and launched a fireball toward it. The tank exploded violently, killing Blue instantly. I feel so powerful now! she thought. A Taser dart hit her bare flesh and sent thousands of volts through her system. She laughed. It tickled. They had made her too good, so good that they couldn’t stop her. Ripping out the Taser dart, she threw it right back at the guard who had fired it. He did not laugh. It didn’t tickle him – though it did leave him a gargling pulp on the floor. The other technicians, orderlies, and scientists fled the lab. They were smart. Down the hall, Blaze knew – she wasn’t sure how, but she knew – that a guard named Jack was watching her on a surveillance camera and screaming into a telephone. “This is Central, request immediate backup, maximum response. Homo Superior experiment is loose – repeat, homo –” Blaze wanted him to stop talking. So he stopped, falling to the ground, screaming in agony as something sliced through his mind.

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Facing no resistance whatsoever, she left the lab and walked toward the front door. She would find Axel, and the others…let them know what had happened… She left the building, her aura burning fiercely inside of her. She walked down the sidewalk, away from the facility. Towards her destiny, on the Streets of Rage.

374

BONUS PASSAGE

“Homecoming”

The doorbell chimed once, waking Axel Stone from a light snooze. What time is it? he thought wearily to himself and got to his feet, wishing he hadn’t drank so much Scotch the previous night. When he opened the front door of the house and gazed upon the figure standing on the other side, his face suddenly lit up with intense emotion. “Blaze! Thank God it’s you!” he exclaimed, and embraced her in his arms, holding her tight. She was wearing nothing but a dirty sheet wrapped hastily around her torso, and her expression was firm, mean and determined, as if she’d been through some life-changing experience. It wouldn’t be the first time… “I was so worried about you!” he continued to say, blinking back tears. “You’ve been gone for weeks…what…what the hell happened to you?” Blaze Fielding swallowed, and looked up into his concerned blue eyes. She looked as though she hadn’t slept in days. “Axel…” she moaned, almost in a whisper. “I’m exhausted…” With that, her legs buckled and she collapsed; Axel managed to react and catch her before she fell to the floor. She slumped into his arms, moaning. “Take it easy, Blaze,” Axel said, licking his lips. Wasting no time, he dragged her through the hallway and gently lowered her onto the sofa. She exhaled with relief and fell asleep instantly. Axel took a deep breath, his thoughts whirling, trying to decide what to do. Blaze had disappeared, what, three weeks ago now, and the Agency had been all over the world searching for her, with help from Adam and the FBI. But here she was, in the dead of night, just strolling up to the front door of their house as if she’d been for a long walk in the park. Must have been some park… When he bent to examine her, he saw that there was a series of fresh, round cuts in a linear formation running up both sides of her body. They weren’t bleeding, but looked as though they had been recently. They looked consistent with some of the Syndicate technology he’d seen in the Philadelphia Cloning Facility not too long ago. He reached out and placed a hand on her arm, exhaling heavily as he did so. “Blaze,” he said, though he knew she couldn’t hear him. “What happened to you?” Shaking his head, he pulled his hand away again and reached for his satellite phone, where it was holstered by his hip. The others would need to know what was going on…

375

BOOK V

SYNDICATE WARS THE RISE OF DREADNOUGHT

376

PROLOGUE

Teltow Canal Southeast Berlin, Germany April 24th, 1945

Berlin wasn’t the most pleasant place in the world to be. It was cold, raining like God himself had turned the celestial shower on to Cold and forgotten to shut it down, and the pall of war hung over everything. The sky was black with smoke; heavy fighting had been going on for many hours now. The Soviet Red Army was assaulting the city from the south east, and they had already overcome a counterattack by the German LVI Panzer Corps. Now, the Reds had reached the ring-railway on the north side of the Teltow Canal, and the Waffen-SS, one of Nazi Germany’s most elite fighting forces, had been sent in by Hitler himself, to make a final stand before the enemy could penetrate the city’s inner defences. Arnold Ernst Toht held his breath for a moment as his company passed through a narrow, uncomfortable tunnel. He was only nineteen years old, but he looked a lot older. Perhaps his appearance was a by-product of the tension they were all under. He was certainly far too young to be in this kind of situation, and he looked aggravated. His uniform was soaked in sweat and blood. The fifty-strong Waffen-SS were en route to intercept the Red Army just past the mountains, and give their lives in the defence of the Führer and the Third Reich. If they failed, Germany’s defeat in this conflict would be all but assured. Toht watched as Sergeant Dietrich Dahm marched past, jaw jutting out and an unlit cigar clenched tightly between his teeth. Toht fell in step behind him, feeling more confident behind the older, more experienced officer. Dahm was a tall, gaunt man, probably about twenty-nine years old, his cheekbones edged sharply by the sparse light, his eyes recessed pits of darkness as he motioned to the other soldiers to spread out. The tunnel they were in masked the sound of the rain, but it was chilly and humid in here, oppressive. The few flashlights they had seemed dim and were aimed at the floor to provide only the bare minimum of light, just enough to ensure they didn’t step over some edge and fall into an abyss. The mountain pressed down on them, making the tunnel carved into it seem flimsy, a fool’s pathway through something that could crush them in barely the blink of an eternal eye. “What’s going to happen to us, Diedrich?” Toht whispered, blinking damp out of his eyes. “Are we going to survive this battle?” Dahm regarded the younger man solemnly. “I don’t know, Arnold. I hope so. I’m going to be a father soon – very soon. My wife, she’s full-term. I want to see the eyes of my son before the end.” Toht nodded, but didn’t say anything.

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The man in charge of the Waffen-SS, leading the group through the tunnel and barking orders every few seconds, was a spindly man dressed in a full Nazi officer’s uniform tailored from black leather. His name was Colonel Dreadnought. Although everyone else was dressed in normal uniform, this man’s face was covered by something that looked like a modified gas mask. That was a puzzle all to itself, because there didn’t appear to be any reason to wear something like that, but over the years his subordinates had learned never to question him about it. Colonel Dreadnought was one of the Third Reich’s top scientists – answerable only to Adolf Hitler himself - head of the Thule Occult Society, and unrivalled in his mastery of the sword. If you pissed him off, he would have your head, then experiment on your corpse. Toht shuddered inwardly. Some of the things his country had been responsible for during the course of this War were despicable. Still, the end was coming soon. It was only a matter of time. When they reached the end of the tunnel, the first thing they saw were the lights. Thirty feet below were dozens of tanks and armoured vehicles illuminated in the darkness by their headlamps. Thousands of Soviet soldiers scurried around, making it look like some kind of human ant farm. Colonel Dreadnought gave a wide, dark grin behind his mask, then wrapped one gloved hand around the hilt of his custom-made sword. He ran his tongue over the inside of his teeth for good measure, then drew the sword from its belt in one, swift motion. “This is it,” he hissed, his voice reverberating with a gruff electronic tone. Sergeant Dahm turned to signal to the others, and suddenly something bumped against the side of his foot. He automatically looked down. It took one puzzled moment too long for him to register exactly what it was – Grenade! - and then the explosion blew his leg into bloody pieces. “Go!” screamed Dreadnought, and the SS soldiers stormed the Soviet camp. The gunfire was deafening, the firepower deadly in all directions. In the onslaught, a dozen Nazis fell immediately; others took longer, stubbornly charging forward, determined to defend their country at all costs. As a Soviet machine-gun nest fell beneath a fusillade of bullets, Toht snatched up one of his fallen comrades’ rifles and began firing wildly; the young man paid for being in the wrong place at the wrong moment with a bullet in the leg. As he went down, clutching at the wound and nearly breathless with the intensity of the pain, Toht retaliated by sending a volley of bullets straight into the offending Soviet’s chest. Nearby, a half dozen grim-faced Russian soldiers had managed to back Colonel Dreadnought into a corner. His sword had been lost during the charge, and he carried no gun. Instead of surrendering, the masked Nazi went into a crouch, then snapped his arms forward – Tchkkk!!! Two gleaming metal blades slid free from twin steel bands hidden below the cuffs of his uniform. Guns were not always the answer to everything, and the Soviets’ overconfidence in their weapons exacted a heavy price; as they moved toward Dreadnought, certain that the Nazi would give up his knives in the face of their rifles, he went through them like the four-bladed propeller of a P-51-D. Incredibly, his steel cut right through their weapons with barely a hitch each time, then continued through flesh and bone like it wasn’t even there. Blood and water ran together and tinted the muddy ground to a dirty brownish pink.

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Hand-to-hand fighting was one thing, but they couldn’t forget the bigger picture, the bigger danger. Sure enough, as Dreadnought turned his head to survey the immediate vicinity, he saw the barrel of one of the Soviet tanks turning toward him, preparing to fire… The Nazi shrieked and retracted his blades, soaking his jacket cuffs with blood as he lunged to the side. Just as his body hit the floor and rolled – BAAAMMMM! Dreadnought didn’t even have time to scream, and the blast deafened his eardrums instantly. The concussion sent him soaring through the air and slammed him into a jagged stone wall. Toht was disorientated, and was trying to get to his feet, clutching his bleeding leg. Everything was happening so fast. He looked around frantically, but Dahm and the others seemed to be gone. When he looked to the stone wall, he saw that Dreadnought had gone too, the only mark of his exit two blood stains on the ground. Where did he go? So fast… Toht fell to the ground, the pain in his leg too much to bear. Behind him, backup had finally arrived and another flood of Nazi soldiers was pouring in. But despite the reinforcements, he knew that the Nazis had no real hope of protecting Berlin. The Soviets were too well-equipped, and there were simply too many of them to overcome. He closed his eyes, wondering if he would survive this night. Whatever fate had in store for him, he knew he wasn’t ready to die just yet. There was too much he wanted to do with his life. “I’m not ready,” he muttered, but nobody heard him…

- 73 Years Later -

Biscayne Bay 20 miles off the coast of Miami December 12th, 2018

The two men surfaced noiselessly. Raising their diving masks they scanned the area around them. Nothing, only the pale bulk of the Lady Merkel and the soft slap of the sea against her hull. It was 4.30am, and although no hint of dawn showed at the horizon both men knew that time was limited. As they watched, a dark figure showed for a moment against the dimly illuminated windows of the stateroom. Moments later a very old man appeared from the stern door, a white dressing gown belted around his frail waist. Clearly restless, he stood at the rail for several minutes. The night air appeared to offer him no relief, however, for after a brief circuit of the stern deck he turned abruptly on his heel and went back inside. In the water the men glanced at each other. Kusanagi, the older of the two, his features streaked and obscured by camouflage cream, raised a hand above the surface and tapped the armoured glass face of his watch. The younger man, Setsura, nodded.

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As one, they moved towards the yacht’s stern. Below them, motionless and invisible, waited the two-man Odyssea submarine in which, just an hour earlier, they had commenced their silent mission. Finding the yacht hadn’t been difficult. Of course, the word ‘yacht’ as applied to the Lady Merkel was a serious understatement – if she had been in commercial ownership she would have been called a cruise liner. She had five gleaming decks, weighed 430 tons, and was over 150 feet in length. Her swimming pool could quite comfortably have accommodated six topless models dressed as mermaids, and indeed – to the raucous delight of an invited party of Syndicate executives – had once done just that. She was, to say the least, a visible target. And an unsuspecting one. No one was manning her radar that night. It was a calm, moonless night, and the Odyssea submarine had slipped away from a hidden dock on the Miami coast around 3.37am. The wet-sub was a customised craft, built in Florida and refitted at a secret Syndicate base further up the coast. It carried 500 cubic feet of onboard oxygen and its powerful batteries enabled it to cover up to forty miles at a rate of four knots per hour. The wet-sub wouldn’t have won any races, but it was perfectly adapted to its primary function of covert naval approach. Using a suction device, Setsura tethered the Odyssea’s tow-line to the yacht. None of the crew seemed to be on watch, he noticed – perhaps the target had insisted that the decks be cleared for his own use. Shrugging off his oxygen-tanks and regulator, moving with the silence and fluency of long practice, he locked it into the specially adapted housing behind the Odyssea’s left-hand seat. Beside him, Kusanagi lowered his own gear to the right-hand housing. From a pouch round his waist the older man removed two magnetic clamps. A cord ran between these clamps and from this he suspended a heavy equipment bag and his fins. Watching as his partner rid himself of his own fins, positioned a collapsible caving ladder against the stern rail and silently shinned up it, the older man opened the equipment bag. Taking care to avoid the percussion of steel on steel, he withdrew two MP5 sub-machine guns, extended their folding stocks, and passed them up to his waiting colleague. Crouching on the varnished teak deck the men prepared their weapons, wincing at the oily clicks as the twenty-round magazines snapped home. Ears straining for the slightest sound – a footstep, an opening door – they drew back and locked the cocking levers.

***

The target shivered and pulled the towelling dressing gown more tightly around himself. He’d just phoned the bridge to ask for the air-conditioning to be adjusted by a couple of degrees. It was still warm outside, despite the time, but here in the stateroom the air had become uncomfortably cold. It was too cold to sleep, and sleep was what he craved most. Just a few hours’ escape from the pressure – from the desperate worry of recent events… The sudden and unexpected collapse of the New Syndicate; the fighting that had erupted between the hundreds of constituent groups desperate to fill the power vacuum… and the certainty that in his old age, this Syndicate war would claim his life and leave his criminal empire in ruins. Even at ninety-two years of age, he was still one of the most powerful men in the world thanks to his Syndicate connections, but after the infighting had begun

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following the deaths of Mr. X and Shiva, he knew that the end was close. Part of him wished that this journey could go on for ever – just the sea and the sky and the soft thrum of the engines. But he knew that all of that would end soon. Too many people coveted his position now. Approaching his dressing-table, Arnold Ernst Toht bowed and examined his white hair, and the heavy wrinkles set on the face below. He had passed his prime decades ago. Would his rivals have his scalp as well as his dignity? There was little chance he could defend himself against assassins now, not at his age. And so many of his closest servants, even those in his inner circle, would betray him in a heartbeat, he was sure. Face it, he repeated to himself, it’s over. This was the endgame, the king brought down by a battalion of pawns. Checkmate. Or was it? Was his last desperate gambit going to pay off? Was the wildest card he’d ever played going to win the trick for him? There was a light knock on the door. Some problem with the air-conditioning, he supposed. And he’d told the captain – ordered him, dammit – that he wasn’t to be disturbed. Wearily he made his way to the door. It crashed against him as he turned the handle. Next moment it had been closed behind him and he was being dragged back into the room. He tried to struggle, but his arms were pinned in an iron grip behind his back. There was a crackling sound, and an excruciating pain jolted through his kidneys. He doubled up, retching, and as he tried feebly to straighten lost control of his bladder, warm urine coursed down his leg. Dizzy with pain and shame, his throat stinging with bile, he sank to a sitting position on the bed. The dressing gown had fallen open, but he was too shocked to cover himself. The two figures withdrew to the centre of the pale blue carpet. Wiping his smarting eyes and running nose with his sleeve, Toht saw to his astonishment that both wore black neoprene wetsuits and carried automatic weapons slung in chest harnesses. Their Oriental features were tiger-striped with camouflage cream. The younger man carried some kind of electric prod. “Mr. Toht,” said the older man, his eyes expressionless. “Please sit still. This is your last warning. If you call for help or try to escape, we will hurt you very badly indeed. To avoid that, just sit still and answer my questions. Do you understand?” Arnold Toht nodded. Anger was slowly beginning to replace humiliation. He drew the dressing gown closed around himself. Who the hell were these people? He had many enemies, many rivals, but none of them would try a stunt like this. Were they Black Guards? Union Lizard? He spoke quickly in German: “Was zum Teufel hier weitergeht?” The two men looked at him blankly. Kusanagi stepped forward. “Mr. Toht, we don’t have much time. We need answers to our questions, and we need them right away. I think you know who we are.” “I haven’t the first idea who you are – and nor, for that matter, have I got any cash in this room. You’re welcome to my credit cards though – my wallet’s in the pocket of that – ” “Mr. Toht, you know who we are.” Toht frowned. Setsura stepped forward. “Mr. Toht, we are instructed to tell you that Dreadnought wants his property back.”

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That name. After all these years, that name. The jolt of understanding which slammed through Arnold Toht at that moment was worse than the electric prod. He was as good as dead. He looked at them. Saw they knew that he knew. Seeing Toht’s shoulders slump, confident that the last vestiges of fight had departed him, Setsura returned the prod to his belt. Beside him Kusanagi unzipped a waterproof pouch that he was carrying round his neck. The silence between the stateroom’s three occupants was intimate, almost conspiratorial. How would they do it? Toht wondered. Surely they wouldn’t use their weapons? It would make a god-awful racket and they’d have to kill the entire crew. But a glance at the tiger-striped faces above him told him that, if necessary, they would do just that. He knew what they wanted, of course. He knew what they were looking for. He considered stalling and playing for time, but realised that the longer the whole charade lasted, the greater the danger to the rest of those aboard. Any crew members up and about when the men left the ship would be gunned down. And if one died, the rest would have to go too; there could be no witnesses… Dreadnought, you bastard! I had hoped I would never hear from you again… Better to go quietly, hope it was fast, and limit the deaths to his own. He’d seen enough blood spilled to last a hundred lifetimes. The fear had gone now – all that was left was a quiet surprise that it could all end like this. Kusanagi glanced at his watch and out of the curtained window. So this is it, thought Toht. The sea. No thumb to the jugular, no punch of silenced bullets, just the cold waters of dawn. And these two anonymous soldiers of Dreadnought’s employ drawing him down to the darkness and the end of all worry. “Mr. Toht,” Kusanagi said, “before we bring this to a close, I’d like you to open your safe and give me the documents you keep inside.” Toht didn’t move. Seeing his hesitation Setsura’s hand wandered towards the electric prod. Toht walked heavily across the pale blue carpet, lifted down a framed photograph of himself, and spun the dial of a small wall-safe. Taking out a small wad of scientific research papers he handed them to Kusanagi, who placed them in the waterproof pouch. “Close the safe. Put the picture back.” He did as he was bid. “Thankyou, Mr. Toht. Now I’m going to ask you to take off your robe.” Slowly, Toht obeyed. “Are you ready?” Toht looked around him, at the walnut panelling, the luxurious fixtures and fittings. He’d survived the War, he’d survived the Nazis, he’d built and lost a criminal empire. Now, naked, he stood before his killers. “I’m ready,” he said.

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I

Sitting on an extremely uncomfortable chair on the wide stage, Blaze Fielding told herself for the tenth time that she was on national television, she would not lose her patience, nor would she insult the over-made-up host of this so-called television talk show. From her position, Blaze couldn’t see much beyond the lights focused at her and the host; megawattage spotlights that were so bright she was vaguely surprised that the people who had to stare into them day after day didn’t go blind – it was like looking into a dozen suns all at the same time. She’d always loved being on television, but these things were hot; she’d gotten out her best suit for this fiasco, and all she’d ended up feeling like was a bacon-wrapped hot dog under a broiler. The show’s host gave her a bright, plasticized smile that was obviously phony, then gestured for Blaze to turn and look over her shoulder. When she did so, a screen behind them flashed to bright life. A cascade of tabloid covers and news clippings rolled across it, all, of course, artfully arranged for the best effect. “London Devastated by Nuclear Weapon!” “New Syndicate Collapses!” “Vigilantes Triumph Over Evil!” And another one, complete with colour footage of a fistfight in progress, that Blaze decided on the spot would be her personal, secret favourite: “Blaze Fielding Saves World from Terrorist Syndicate!” Blaze started to turn back to the audience, but the host impatiently motioned for her to keep watching. She glanced back just in time to see a line of grainy footage showing her unleashing a barrage of fireball energy. The host gave her another overly toothy smile. It reminded Blaze of a shark outfitted with fake chompers, circling a seal from below and looking for the perfect angle of attack. “Miss Fielding,” he said in a butter-smooth voice, “as the head of the new Firestorm International Detective Agency, you’ve become quite a celebrity in very little time!” Blaze nodded, then leaned forward, going for the sincerity perspective. “So it would seem.” She glanced toward the film footage that was frozen on the screen. “But the attention is unwarranted. Too many people have died at the hands of the Syndicate already. We have a job to do here… a very serious task ahead of us.” “Tell us more about Firestorm’s mantra,” the host said. Blaze licked her lips. “Our mantra is to make the world a safer place from the Syndicate Remnant forces fighting amongst themselves after the collapse of the New Syndicate. Even though the organisation’s leader, Leon Shiva, was killed shortly after the bombing of London, there are still a large number of criminals, members of the New Syndicate’s ‘High Council’, that are unaccounted for. They need to be brought to justice.” “So after Shiva’s death, the Syndicate’s gangs are at war?” Blaze nodded, shifting in her seat. “Yes. Since the Syndicate is such a vast and powerful entity, the loss of its figurehead leaders has created a power vacuum. There are many criminals and terrorists who would like to fill that position.”

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The host was still grinning like a plastic doll. “Some people say the Syndicate can never be truly defeated, only contained. It’s influence is too far reaching, in all four corners of the world. And for many, it represents an ideal, something intangible.” Blaze took a sharp breath. “I don’t believe that, not for a moment. The world is changing. No organisation is completely invulnerable. I firmly believe that they can be defeated, and I have dedicated my life to this end. However long it takes, Firestorm will end the threat of the Syndicate forever.” A grainy black-and-white photo scrolled over the monitor behind them. It was Blaze again, this time at age twelve. In the photo, her eyes looked more like those of a haunted victim; she was crying, and a nasty dark smear on her forehead could only be blood. “Tragic case of feral orphan” read the caption. “You have a personal interest in their defeat do you not?” asked the host, probing her further. “A vendetta, perhaps, for the Cocos Island Massacre of 1996?” Blaze sighed. Memories swirled in her mind. “It’s true, the Syndicate did kill my family. But the figureheads, Mr. X and Leon Shiva, the ones who I feel were personally responsible for that massacre, are already dead. So in my mind, the deaths of my family are avenged.” “Yet you remain a Syndicate experiment. Is it not true you were kidnapped very recently, and subjected to some kind of ‘memory wipe’ procedure?” Blaze nodded. “Yes. I was taken to a Syndicate lab in San Francisco against my will. Unfortunately for them, their ‘memory wipe’ procedure backfired. It only served to strengthen my resolve against them, and made me their greatest threat.” “Is it true you now possess psychokinetic abilities, as a result of their experiments?” “I’m still getting to grips with the changes going on in my body. It’s not something I’ve fully come to terms with yet, but yes, it’s true. It’s not an easy thing to deal with, I’ll tell you that much… so much has changed in my life over the past year. I’m still running to catch up.” The host ran a careful hand over his tinted black hair before continuing, hoping his bald spot didn’t show through all these overly bright lights. “So what’s next for Firestorm?” “We’re still getting ourselves set up right now, to tell you the truth. But we’re already liaising with Interpol and the FBI, gathering resources, intelligence, and hiring staff. No doubt you’ll be hearing from us again very soon, in these tabloid headlines…” She pointed at yet another blurry picture being displayed on the monitor. “Does my bum look big in this?” Amid a roomful of laughter, the delighted audience broke into applause.

When Blaze exited the stage and turned into the corridor out back, she took a long, deep breath and let it out wearily. She’d been doing the publicity circuit for hours now – darting between TV and radio studios like a mad thing – but it only felt like minutes. Somewhere in that time period, she’d eaten a sandwich; the crumbs and bits of wilted lettuce were still wadded up in the wrapping paper on the floor of the corridor where she’d missed the wastebasket, but she couldn’t say what kind it had been, something premade from the KCAL cafeteria. Ditto with the thirty-two-ounce soft drink – Coke? Pepsi? Or maybe it’d been something appropriately red, like Hawaiian Punch. Blaze had no clue. Had her dinner been something good, say a couple of peanut butter and honey sandwiches, she would have remembered. As it

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was, whatever she’d eaten was sustenance, nothing more; fuel for the body so that her mind could keep going. “You did great, hon,” Axel Stone said, pushing open the door from the rear viewing area. “I was watching you from the monitors.” He kissed her lightly on the lips, lingering there for a moment before drawing back. Blaze smiled warmly. “Thanks, Axel. But I feel exhausted. I’d like to go back to the hotel now.” Axel nodded, and straightened the tie beneath his suit jacket. Aside from the stress of recent weeks, he looked to be in good shape, lean and fit. “Good idea. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. I’m going to be leaving early; my meeting with General Petrov and the Interpol Executive Committee has been brought forward by a couple of hours.” Blaze nodded. “I’ll stay at the hotel until checkout time. I still have to make arrangements with Adam, Max and Skate.” She followed him toward the building’s main exit, lost in thought. There was still a lot to do before Firestorm was fully operational.

*** At four-thirty-five the next morning, light had already begun to make its way through the window, between the gap in the curtains. Axel yawned as he dressed, and gazed down at Blaze, who was still fast asleep in the bed. Such a lovely woman, he thought. I’m a lucky, lucky guy. He decided against waking her, preferring to let her rest and recover some of her strength for the day ahead. There was a lot to be done. As he left through the hotel room door, he blew her a kiss, then closed the door behind him.

***

Blaze slept. On the bed, her eyelids squeezed tight and she suddenly convulsed. After another moment, a small ripple of heat began to rise from her forehead. There was fire – and smoke rising from the village around her, belching darkness into the air. The people were being massacred… No! She sat on the steps of her family hut all by herself, wondering what would happen. Behind her, of course, was her mother. She glanced up and saw her mom smiling at her above the basket of apples she carried. There was such hope in that look, enough to break the young girl’s heart. “Lĩz,” her mother called. “Lĩz – come on, darling. Give mommy a hand!” Blaze didn’t move. Her mother was headed over to a small, grubby courtyard at the side of the hut to lay out the dinner. Didn’t she realise what was happening? Didn’t she realise their lives were in danger?

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Armed with the apples, her mother hurried through the door and headed toward the courtyard where a wooden table waited. Waiting until Blaze’s mother had passed, the three kids hanging out by their hut poked at each other, then pointed at Blaze and laughed cruelly. They lost no time in starting up their taunts. “Freak!” yelled one. Most of the time, she could ignore them. She’d trained herself that way, had hardened her heart to their ridicule. Today, for some reason, she couldn’t – she didn’t want to, she really didn’t, but today she was unable to stop herself from turning and staring at them. One of them, an older blond kid, grinned and punched one of his friends on the shoulder. “See? She knows her name!” Ducking her head, Blaze forced herself to look away from them and stare gloomily in the other direction. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to get them to leave her alone. “Get lost, you freak!” shouted another. “We don’t want you here!” Blaze flinched as a stone bounced off the steps next to her, then got up and backed away as they threw another one; it missed, but the third try whacked her painfully in the shoulder. Frightened, Blaze turned toward the courtyard, hoping to spot her mother. Before she spotted her, the next rock, bigger than the others, caught her hard in the face, splitting her forehead and splattering the grass with blood. Sobbing, Blaze stumbled and tried to crawl away. Then she heard a scream, and turned to see one of the intruders standing there over the bullies, wielding an axe – She closed her eyes tightly, and there was the sound of meat being cut. “Mommy!” she called, but there was no answer. The intruder pinned her to the grass, and somehow he was inside her, violating her. “Not again,” she moaned. “Please… not again!” As she looked down, she saw a small dot of blue firelight dancing on her chest. “Mommy!” she screamed. Her mother seemed to jerk and look up, recognising little Lĩz’s voice instantly. It took only that long – a second, no more – for her to train her eyesight on her daughter’s small figure covered by the large man, and the flames outlining her body. “Mommy, help me! I’m burning!” Blaze’s mother screamed. The apples tumbled off the table as she abandoned it and ran toward her, pushing aside the intruder. She had to get to Lĩz, to her daughter – “Help meeeeeeeeeee!” She never made it. Blaze felt herself… explode, felt everything that she was, her entire aura, inside and out, go white-hot and expand. A rolling cloud of hot blue brightness engulfed her, the courtyard, her mother, the building, the intruder, everything around her. All she could do was endure, knowing without being told that her mother’s body had burned away like flash paper along with her father, her brother, the trees and birds and rats, everything. And at the end, after the heat of it, the shockwave hit and did the rest of the job, flattening Cocos Island… Blaze. Left standing and sobbing after the destruction of everything that had existed in her small world...

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On the bed, Blaze Fielding suddenly screamed. The sleeves of her nightshirt vaporised and her back arched as her body was completely engulfed by blue flame, the burning so bright that it silhouetted the organs and bones inside her skin, the orbs of her eyes within her skull, and made her ribs stark X-ray outlines visible all the way through the sheet and blanket that covered her. It was only a matter of seconds until the glow streamed out of the hotel room – - and into the corridor, where it lit the morning-dim walls with a dangerous white-blue glow. In the main lobby, behind the hotel’s reception desk, Brad and Terrence were sharing a pizza and listening to the radio, some disk jockey who liked to think he was big on the humour on KROQ. The music was decent, and if nothing else, at least the two of them agreed the guy was a jerk who didn’t know funny when it bit him on the ass. They had the music a little too loud, high enough to drown out the tiny beep from the console, so it probably took four beats for Brad to realise that the faint pinging he thought was in the radio’s speaker was actually a fire detector. The sight of the red light flashing on the computer screen was so unexpected that for a moment they both just stared at it in amazement – nothing weird ever happened here at this time in the morning. Both of them stood up in unison, Terence slapping a hand on the hotel’s main fire alarm klaxon. Beyond the piercing shrill of the alarm, a sound, low and huge, rumbled through the floor and the furniture and everything else around them. Brad swallowed and thought vaguely of earthquakes, then saw Terence’s eyes actually bulge as he stared down the nearby corridor. He followed Terence’s gaze and his mouth dropped open. Thirty feet down the corridor, a ball of blue fire was rushing straight toward them. Brad gasped and turned, but there wasn’t enough time to run, and there was nowhere to go, anyway. All they could do was stand and wait, staring in terror at what was almost certainly their oncoming death. Terence finally found his vocal cords. “Oh, shi –” The fireball engulfed the reception desk, and they dove for the floor and the dubious cover of an overhanging shelf. The glass walls exploded in the heat and the flames roared in, drowning everything in searing blue. Moments later, every single window in the hotel shattered and the fire poured outward, showering glass and ash onto the gardens below. And then… Silence and ash and cinders.

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II

Deep in the Colorado Rockies December 17th, 2018

The entrance to the military base was, unexpectedly, the mouth of a large cave cut into the side of the mountain. As Axel Stone stared up at it, he figured that it was as good a place as any for the location of Firestorm’s new headquarters. “It’s perfect,” Blaze said, standing beside him. She shivered in the cold afternoon air. “You’d never guess there was an underground base here at all, if it wasn’t for those massive concrete doors.” Axel nodded. “General Petrov recommended the site to me personally, and he virtually guaranteed that the Federal government would co-operate in leasing the entire site to us. The military abandoned the site eight years ago, and it has pretty much sat unused ever since.” Blaze held up the notepad Axel had brought along. On it was scrawled various notes in Petrov’s handwriting. She read it aloud: “The Creek Mountain Underground Command Center was originally built for monitoring the skies and space for hostile incoming weapons. During its heyday it was thought to be a primary target for a nuclear attack, and it is perhaps the most fortified large underground installation in the world. Even so, the US military acknowledges that it could not withstand a direct hit from one of its own nuclear missiles. The installation consists of 45 steel buildings, laid out in a 14.5 acre grid inside the mountain, through 20 levels.” They walked through the pair of giant concrete doors and into a large cavernous hall. When their eyes adjusted to the change in the light, they saw they were in a room with a polished concrete floor. The only things in the room were a small drab shack made of corrugated tin and a guard’s kiosk next to it. “There’s a hidden elevator here,” Axel remarked, a smirk coming over his features. “Pretty neat, huh? Seriously, I don’t think we could have asked for anything better. This inspection is going to be a mere formality.” Blaze shrugged, frowning at the shabby condition of the tin shack. “Perhaps, but I imagine we’re going to need to do some extensive cleaning and refurbishment here, before we get it looking exactly how I’d like it.” “Yeah.” Axel pressed a switch for the elevator in the kiosk, powering it up. Then he came and joined Blaze inside the shack on the platform, and after a moment the whole thing began to sink, the elevator beginning its slow descent through the base. “So, how are you feeling?” Axel asked, changing the subject. “After the… ‘incident’… at the hotel last night?”

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Blaze swallowed dryly, watching the numbers on the digital readout go by: 3, 4, 5… It seemed to be a long way between floors. She didn’t meet his concerned gaze. “Not so great,” she admitted. “These advanced homo superior powers are fucking me up, to be perfectly honest, Axel. I really don’t know how I’m going to keep such power under control. I mean, that’s the second time now that I’ve had something happen in a dream which has passed over into the real world. First, there was that time the other week when I started moving things with my mind, ended up throwing you out of bed, which was kinda funny. But this… This time, people were hurt. People were killed…” Axel took a deep breath, and put one arm over her shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. And I’m sure you can gain control of these new powers soon enough. You did it before, and you’ll do it again.” Blaze shook her head. “But at what cost, Axel? Forty three innocent people died in that hotel. If I hadn’t turned the place into a fucking inferno, they would all still be alive right now.” Axel didn’t know what to say. He felt the need to comfort her, to reassure her, but the exact words escaped him. After a while he said, “I think the Syndicate is ultimately responsible for what happened. You can’t blame yourself.” That seemed to get through to her. “Maybe. We’ll talk about it later.” They travelled the elevator in silence for a while. The numbers ticked past: 11, 12, 13… The base seemed to bore deep into the bowels of the mountain. Axel turned to her then and asked, “Did you manage to contact the others?” Blaze managed a half-laugh. “Despite managing to kill forty three people and destroy a three-star hotel, yes, I managed. Max and Skate are ready to join us as soon as we give the word. Adam is in the final stages of negotiating his permanent special assignment to Firestorm with the FBI’s Director, so as soon as he ties up the red tape on his end, he’ll be ready too.” “What about our new recruits?” Axel asked. He was referring to a number of staffers that Blaze had employed who would handle Firestorm’s massive amounts of paperwork and the day-to-day running of the base. “They’re waiting in the wings,” she told him. “As soon as we find a suitable location for our headquarters, I just need to let them know. Seriously, two or three days tops, and we can be up and running.” The elevator doors opened at level 20. When they stepped out into the heart of the underground base, Blaze smiled for the first time in days. Nodding, she looked at Axel approvingly. “This is definitely it,” she said.

***

72 hours later

Adam Hunter brought his sleek, black Harley to a stop with the front tire just about touching the barrier. He’d thought it was wood, but on closer inspection he realised it was metal – coloured steel crisscrossed with heavy reinforcing bars. A massive gate, closed tightly against the outside world, guaranteed that nothing passed through the base’s perimeter entrance without advance scrutiny.

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He’d been driving through the Colorado Rockies for hours to get here, and when he climbed off the seat, he shuddered at the way his pants, soaked through to the skin with sweat, pulled away from the leather seat. On the back of the Harley he’d crammed his gear into two cheap suitcases, which hung precariously like ill-designed panniers. One of these days, he told himself, he was going to buy a car. On one side of the gate was a buzzer, and Adam grinned a little to himself as he pressed it, noting the fake Waste Management sign above the bell. He wondered if that actually fooled anyone, given that five minutes ago, just as he’d pulled off the highway, a large faded sign had announced in large lettering: “CREEK MOUNTAIN, U.S. GOVERNMENT SPECIAL ZONE.” But then he decided that it probably did – he sure wasn’t seeing any reporters hanging around out here and snapping pictures. “Yes?” He jumped at the sound of the voice, surprisingly loud through a speaker so well hidden that he couldn’t spot it. The cold was making him shiver, eroding his attention. “Adam Hunter. FBI transfer from Washington.” For a long moment, nothing happened, then he jumped again as a piece of the stone pillar, something else he hadn’t noticed, folded down on hidden hydraulics. Another beat and a hooded eyepiece and LCD screen scanner slid forward from the opening. Adam pressed his face up to the eyepiece, willing himself not to flinch because he knew what was coming. Suddenly a violet-coloured light scanned his retina, moving back and forth in an instant. A millisecond later his identification flashed on the small screen, an instant after that and the heavy gate gave a clank as it slid open. Adam climbed back on his Harley and drove it slowly through the entrance; when the gate closed solidly behind him, he felt a little bit like he’d disappeared into a strange part of the world that no one else knew about. As he gunned the engine and headed up the tree-lined pathway toward the mountain, Adam knew instinctively that this was probably very true in a lot of ways. The meandering road led Adam to what he assumed was the main entrance to the base. Nondescript from the outside, and surrounded by trees, the entrance was nothing more than a pair of huge concrete doors set into the mouth of a cave. Axel had told him to expect as much. It had seemingly been designed to look like a natural part of the surrounding wilderness, invisible to satellites. As he dismounted his bike, the doors opened for him automatically. Once he was through the concrete doors, Adam discovered the inside of the base was an entirely different story. Lots of shiny concrete, marble and mirrors, behind which Adam knew without a doubt lurked security cameras. The fake green plants at the juncture of floor and walls probably hid everything from microphones to gas valves that could be used in a lockdown or other extreme emergency. In the centre of the main hall was a massive circular platform made of high-tech, polished metal, upon which was a shabby-looking tin shack. Beside it was a kiosk, with a solitary uniformed guard who watched Adam impassively as he approached. There was no name tag or logo on his grey uniform, in fact, it looked very much like the uniform a garbage-truck driver might wear. Adam put on a pleasant smile as he stepped up onto the platform and set down his old suitcases. “Hello, I’m – ” “Late,” the guard cut in. “Twenty minutes late.”

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Adam blinked, a half-amused smirk coming over his face. “Yes, well, this isn’t exactly the easiest place to find, you know?” The guard smiled then, seeming to relax a little. “Mr. Hunter, they want you down on sublevel twenty. Step into the shack.” Adam stared at him, confused. “Pardon?” The guard’s voice was completely emotionless. “Step into the shack, please.” Slightly confused, Adam bent and picked up his suitcases, then complied. With a mild lurch, the floor beneath Adam’s feet began to sink and he realised he was on the platform of a small elevator. He grinned. He just loved this high-tech, secret military stuff – hidden cameras, microphones, elevators like in the old Get Smart episodes. Standing inside the tin shack, Adam was still smiling as he sank past floor level and the panel overhead slid shut and let a row of safety lights wink on around the edge of the circle. As he stared through the shack’s square-shaped window, he had to fight a sense of vertigo when he saw that this elevator was just one of a number of others, moving up and down in a vast underground area. The effect was very much like being on a floating disk in the middle of space. A cool draft that smelled vaguely like metal and oil kissed the skin of his face, and what he could see of the dimly lit and quiet area showed him only more elevators interspersed with huge support pillars holding up the installation above him. It was quite a feat of engineering, really. He watched the numbers tick past on a small digital readout above the shack’s doorway, before the elevator finally settled to a stop at level 20. He stepped off the platform into a large, brightly-lit, air-conditioned lobby area. A few yards ahead, Blaze Fielding stood waiting for him patiently, dressed in a business suit, a huge smile on her face. “Welcome to Firestorm Headquarters, Adam!” Blaze said, rushing up to meet him and giving him a big friendly hug. Adam smiled, genuinely pleased to see her, and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s great to see you, Blaze.” He looked around at the metallic walls and ceiling, at all the technology at their disposal, and nodded. “This is a very impressive place. I think you and Axel did well here.” Blaze giggled. “Isn’t it fantastic? I’ll give you the guided tour later. Come on, the others are waiting for us in the briefing room.” Adam followed her through tall glass doors into an atrium, where he filled in a security form. Then they passed through a corridor to a door marked, OPERATIONS Swiping a card and punching a code into the keypad, Blaze gestured that Adam precede her into a small, open-plan office containing several computer terminals. At one of these a man in heavy black spectacles was listening to a headset and making notes. At another a woman with a spiky punk hairdo was scrolling through aerial photographs. Each raised a hand in silent greeting as the pair entered. “Has anything come in for me?” Blaze asked. The spike-haired woman nodded. “Couple of things. Nothing urgent. And I’ve got those pictures you asked for.” She handed Blaze a black envelope. “Thanks.” Blaze turned to Adam. “The briefing room is just through this door.” ***

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The briefing room was windowless and spotlit. Half a dozen chairs stood at a rectangular mahogany table, around which sat the familiar faces of Axel Stone, Max Hatchett and Adam’s brother, Eddie “Skate” Hunter. “Adam!” Skate grinned. “You made it!” Adam stepped closer, blowing air out of his lungs. “Yeah, finally. It was a bitch trying to find this place without a map. Good to see you bro.” He gave his brother a high-five, then he turned to the others. “Axel, Max…how’s it going?” Max nodded. “Adam.” “We’re doing just fine buddy,” Axel told him. “Take a seat. We need to get started.” Adam nodded, pulled back one of the chairs with a scrape, and sat down heavily. On one side of the room, he noticed they had a video-link set up with Murphy, his FBI partner in Washington. The digital feed was grainy and jumpy, but it worked. “Hey, Murphy!” Adam called. “You need to come out here and see this place at some point. It’s incredible.” On the screen, Murphy nodded. “Someday, Adam, someday. But you know I’m needed here in Washington right now…” “Of course.” Blaze licked her lips. “Right, if everyone’s ready, I’d like to get down to business,” she said. Her expression had turned very serious and business-like, the way it always did when her thoughts turned to the mission. “Have a look at these.” She took two colour photographs from the black packet and placed them down on the table for everyone to see. One showed a clean-shaven, middle-aged man in a dark-coloured suit, the other was a blurred portrait of a bizarre looking figure wearing what looked like some kind of bondage mask. “You may or may not recognise these men – they’re the leaders of the Shadow Alliance, a terrorist network that has sprung up in the aftermath of the New Syndicate’s collapse. The one on the left is Silver McLeod, a man who trained under Leon Shiva himself, and this one is known as Dreadnought, a notorious Nazi war criminal. They were both New Syndicate councillors at one point; most recently, of course, they have been rallying together the Syndicate’s gangs, killing rival leaders and taking over their territories. The Shadow Alliance is growing stronger and stronger by the day.” “The FBI has been watching these men for some time now,” Murphy said. “These guys are not amateurs,” Blaze warned. “I was pretty sure they weren’t,” muttered Adam. “Dreadnought in particular is to be considered extremely dangerous,” Blaze said. “He’s a mass murdering psychopath who should not be underestimated…” “Why is he wearing that ridiculous mask?” Max asked then, leaning forward for a closer look at the photograph. “Who is this guy?” “I’ve been doing some research,” Murphy said. “Managed to come up with some interesting findings.” He poked around off-screen for a moment, then came back with a file in his hand. “Dreadnought… was born Karl Haupstein in Munich, Germany in 1897. A musical prodigy with angelic features and blonde hair, young Dreadnought toured the capitals of Europe singing opera… until his voice deepened with the onset of puberty, thereby ending his career. From a very early age, he demonstrated symptoms of masochism, whipping himself with a fresh branch of oak each day, and finding pleasure in the pain.

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“As a teenager, he loathed his awkwardness and developed an extreme form of body dysmorphic disorder. In his obsession with physical perfection, he conducted brutal experiments on his own body, including surgically removing his own eyelids, jawbone, and his toes and fingers, replacing them with mechanical implants. He designed a tight-fitting mask which acted as an electronic voice synthesizer, which he wore almost permanently. He believed that fusing mechanical constructs with living bodies would help create perfection…” Axel took a deep breath, nodding to himself. “That sounds eerily familiar…” Murphy continued, “In 1930, he met Adolf Hitler for the first time. Obsessed with purity, Dreadnought quickly became Hitler’s most loyal disciple. He subsequently joined the Nazi Party, and rose quickly through the ranks, joining the Schutzstaffel in 1933 and achieving the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. He was awarded the Iron Cross for services to the Third Reich, including a tour of duty as commandant of Auschwitz concentration camp, where he served with distinction. Dreadnought became head of the Thule Society, a group of German aristocrats obsessed with the occult. He helped them to spearhead many heinous and evil experiments, creating a number of abominable genetic freaks, described as “incredible monsters” by those who saw them. “A masterful fencer, he also became renowned for his swordsmanship and created his own signature swords. When Soviet Forces stormed Berlin in 1945, Dreadnought slaughtered several of the Russian soldiers attacking the base, but was hit by a Tank Shell, severing his spine. Shortly thereafter, he disappeared. “After his disappearance, in 1956, an unmarked grave in Romania was found. Dental records identified the remains as those of Dreadnought. However, he reappeared in 2014. Thanks to Mr. X’s Syndicate, he was repaired with a prosthetic mechanical body, a steel rod replacing the broken part of his spine, and a metallic heart operated by a state-of-the-art hydrogen power cell implanted in his chest. With this new technology, designed by none other than Dr. Henry Dahm, he is able to increase his speed and reflexes at will. Now, after long decades, the blood in his veins has dried up completely, rendering him virtually invulnerable to gunshot wounds. He is one of the most heinous criminals the world has ever seen, and a most deadly adversary.” Skate couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, this guy sounds like a complete loon. All this because he lost his singing voice?” Adam swallowed dryly. “We shouldn’t underestimate him, Skate.” He turned to Blaze. “So what is this… Shadow Alliance… up to? What’s Firestorm’s interest here?” Blaze began pacing slowly around the table. “Most recently, the Shadow Alliance has been active in Miami, Florida. They have taken over the Syndicate territories there, after assassinating Arnold Toht, the former boss of the Black Widow gang. Now they are running rampant in the city, which is witnessing a crime wave like never before. I’d like you to look at the other pictures. They show the specific acts of violence for which these men and their group are responsible.” Adam went through the pile. It was as bad as anything he’d ever seen. The first picture showed a shopping arcade in which a bomb had exploded. There were several corpses, some of them barely recognisable as having ever been human. Other victims, maimed but not yet dead, scrabbled in agony amongst the blood and the glass. The second photograph showed a line of blank-eyed teenage girls propped up against the wall of a building. Their throats had been cut from ear to ear and their chests were sheeted with blood.

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Adam grimaced and continued through the pile. An elderly couple lay face down and naked at a roadside; it was clear they had been whipped to death. There was another bomb scene: a screaming woman clutching a dead child, a young man staring incredulously at the mass of flesh, bone and denim that had once been his legs. The final photograph was of a young woman lying on a table, her head severed from her body. Wearily, Adam replaced the photographs in the packet and passed it across to Max. He said nothing. “Sometimes people just have to be stopped,” said Blaze, running her fingers through her long brown hair. “Their actions amount to a declaration of war, and the only rules that apply to them are the rules of war.” Max shook his head, passing the photographs to Axel. “What’s our first move, Blaze?” “Well,” she said quietly, “my original plan was to go directly to Miami and start sweeping the streets from there. But Murphy has managed to uncover some interesting intelligence that might be more worth our while?” Adam perked up a little. “Murphy, you’ve been busy since I left.” Murphy nodded. “It has come to the FBI’s attention that on Christmas Eve, just a few days’ time from now, the Shadow Alliance plans on a robbery at the National War Museum in Manhattan, New York. Apparently they are after some kind of device used by the Nazis during the Second World War. Dreadnought and Silver McLeod are both going to be there, overseeing the operation personally. I have this on good authority. The information should be very reliable.” Max frowned. “I wonder what they could possibly want with a seventy-five year-old museum piece?” Axel glanced at him. “Let’s not forget, Max, a lot of this old War stuff can still be as dangerous as the day it was manufactured…” “I’ve decided that we are going to intercept them in Manhattan,” Blaze said matter-of-factly. “I’m hoping we can catch these characters from the get-go and save ourselves a lot of leg work.” Adam took a deep breath. “It certainly should make an interesting first assignment for us.” Blaze nodded. “The first of many, I’m sure.”

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III

Once the door was closed behind him, Adam Hunter dropped his suitcases onto the carpeted floor and stood with his back to it, his eyes closed, wearily blowing air from his lungs. It had been a very long and exhausting day, and now finally, it was time for a little rest and relaxation. He opened his eyes, and looked around the living quarters he’d been assigned here on the base. It was actually surprisingly spacious, but didn’t look particularly comfortable. There wasn’t even a television. Then again, he didn’t suppose the military had comfort in mind when they designed this place, and since arriving here only three days earlier, Blaze and Axel hadn’t exactly had time to deck out the entire base with luxuries. The room was neat, plain; the bed was made with the blankets stretched drum-tight across the mattress. On one side of the room was the door to the en suite bathroom, something Adam silently thanked God for. After visiting the bathroom, he brought one of his suitcases up onto the bed and opened it. Inside, amongst the neatly folded clothes and supplies, was an unopened bottle of Irish whiskey and a couple of tumblers. He fixed himself a drink and knocked it back silently, savouring the heat and bitterness of the liquid as it trickled down his throat. Just as he was pouring himself a second, there was a loud knock at the door. Adam frowned. “Ah, come in.” The door slid back with a mechanical whir, and Tina Stone stepped into the room. Adam’s face lit up when he saw her. “Amber!” he said. “This is a nice surprise. When did you get here?” Tina Stone – known as Amber to her friends – politely closed the door behind her and walked further into the room, a big smile on her face. “I’ve been here for a couple of days now, actually. Axel invited me here as a guest, so I could see what you’ve all gotten yourselves into. It’s great to see you, Adam, it’s been… what, a year? Two?” “Two years,” Adam said, and stepped toward her to give her a hug. “So, what do you think of Firestorm’s base? Pretty cool, huh?” Tina smiled. “Yeah. It’s a crazy place. It’s so big… I’ve been here for two days and I’d say I’ve only seen half of it. I think there are rooms that Axel hasn’t even seen yet...” Adam nodded. “You’ll find that most military bases are like that. Drink?” Tina nodded. “Sure, why not? So how have you been, Adam? You’re in the FBI now, I hear?” Adam poured her a measure of whiskey and handed her the glass. “Yeah, I’m a Special Agent. For the past eighteen months I’ve been working at the central bureau in Washington D.C.” “But now you’re here?”

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“Today marks the first day of my permanent special assignment to Firestorm. I’m still an FBI Agent, but I’m operating within Firestorm. There are several government agencies with a vested interest in this organisation… the FBI is just one of them.” Tina sipped on her whiskey thoughtfully. “It must be nice to be around your friends again.” Adam chuckled. “Yeah. That’s not to say I didn’t make any friends in Washington. My partner, Robert Murphy, is a good friend of mine. But you’re right, it will be fantastic to work with Axel and the others again. It’s always fun. But enough about me. What about you, Amber? What have you been up to?” He poured them both another drink. She shrugged. “Oh, the usual. I’m still working my desk job in Los Angeles… still keeping up on my katana training.” Adam smiled from behind the rim of his glass. “You must be an expert with that thing by now.” She grinned. “Actually, you’re not far from the truth. I entered into a regional championship a few weeks ago, and I’ve reached the semi-finals.” “Good for you,” Adam beamed. “Maybe one day you could work for Firestorm!” She giggled, the alcohol going to her head slightly. “Maybe… but from the stories I’ve heard of your past exploits, I’m not sure if I’m cut out for that kind of work.” There was silence for a moment as both of them nursed their drinks. Then Adam said, “Single?” She sighed. “Right now, yes. I’ve recently broken up with a guy who turned out to be a grade-A asshole. But it’s okay with me… I’m enjoying the single life. What about you? I think Axel told me you hooked up with another FBI Agent a while back. How did that work out?” Adam gritted his teeth and swallowed whiskey. “Ah, not too well, to tell you the truth. It didn’t last very long. I’ve actually been seeing my ex, Jodie Kelly, a lot more these days.” He stood there in silent contemplation for a moment. “She seems to follow me around wherever I go.” He let out a barrelling laugh, and took another sip of his drink. Tina raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you first hook up with her about five years ago?” He grinned. “Yes. We originally met when I was a cop on the LAPD. I busted her for DUI.” He laughed. “Ever since then we’ve had a bit of a strange relationship, honestly. We’re together one moment, then we break up the next.” “Do you love her?” He grimaced. “I honestly couldn’t tell you. It’s complicated, you know? That girl has issues.” She nodded. “A lot of things in life are complicated, it would seem.” She took a deep breath. “Do you ever think about what happened to Axel four years ago? You know, the Enigma thing?” He shot her a wounded glance. Took a large gulp of whiskey. “I think about it every now and then. I try to forget it ever happened…” “Sometimes I wonder if keeping it a secret is the right thing to do,” Tina muttered. “Sometimes I think that Axel has a right to know.” Adam licked his lips. “Maybe he does. But I’d feel more comfortable keeping that skeleton firmly in the closet to be honest. It’s been too long already.”

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Slowly, she ran her fingers through her short blond hair, her eyes narrowed, glazed over from the effects of the whiskey. She gazed at him longingly and said, “Whatever you think is best, Adam. I’m good at keeping secrets…” Impossible to say which of them reached for the other first, but they were suddenly and urgently devouring each other. He felt her hands in his hair and her mouth moving beneath his, and then his own hands found her waist and the warm sweep of her back. He kissed her mouth, her eyes, her neck, her hair, and as she buried her mouth in his shoulder she unbuttoned her shirt and slid it off her shoulders. Adam’s hands groped at her bra strap while Tina’s hands scrabbled at his own shirt. Her nipples were hard. “This isn’t happening,” she gasped, pulling his shirt open and pressing her breasts against his chest. “God, we really shouldn’t.” “Yeah,” he breathed. “You’re absolutely right.” Her fingers found his belt. “Help me,” she whispered. “I can’t get this…” “Sorry, it’s a bit stiff. A present from Jodie.” They both laughed, and she gasped as he reached down, unbuttoned and pulled off her jeans, then clasped her round the thighs. He lifted her up so that his tongue could scour her breasts. “Oh, please!” she gasped, bracing her arms on his bare shoulders. “Oh, yes!” Slowly he returned her to her feet and they kissed again, more slowly this time. Pulling back from her he looked at her closely, examined her in a way that politeness and their respective situations had previously made impossible. She looked quite different from how he remembered her – it was as if he was seeing her for the first time. She, in turn, looked back unflinchingly at him. They were both naked now, and taking a couple of steps backwards Adam lowered himself into a sitting position on the bed. She sat facing him, her thighs straddling him, her nipples hard against his chest, the moistness of her vagina damp against his stomach. “Just promise me,” she said, “that my brother will never hear of this…” “Amber,” whispered Adam into her ear. “The guy is my best friend.” “Just promise me that this’ll never be mentioned. Ever. It can be another of our secrets. Promise me and then fuck me.” “I won’t tell a soul,” said Adam, slipping his hand palm-upwards between her legs and parting her with his fingers. The alcohol roared at his ears. She squirmed, and he felt his fingers slip inside. Steadily, gasping louder now, she began to move against the heel of his hand. Below them, the bed began to creak. A moment later, Adam pulled his hand away, and she allowed his manhood to penetrate her. “Just this one time,” she breathed, gasping between words. “Fuck me just this one time.” Adam knew he was going to be very tired the next morning.

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IV

National War Museum Manhattan, New York December 24th 04:39 am

The Aerial Warfare Exhibit Hall was dark and quiet, deserted. At the far end, a lone guard checked one of the alarm monitoring stations. Everything on the holographic console looked good, but he frowned as something odd caught his attention – a slight humming sound. Pulling a flashlight from his belt, he walked the perimeter of the room, shining the light into the corners and under the furniture. There was nothing to see, so the security guard shrugged and moved into the next room. From the last corner that he checked, that he missed, a spidery form rose from the pool of shadows on the floor. Dreadnought, his body encased in shiny black latex from head to toe, checked the cybernetic implant on his chest; its carefully maintained systems hummed softly, in perfect working order. With the guard gone, he moved out of the corner and stepped up to a glass dome in the centre of the room that stood about forty feet high. It was so large it almost reached the Exhibit Hall’s cathedral-like ceiling that towered overhead, offering a majestic view of the stars twinkling in the night sky far above. Inside the glass dome was a huge iron machine, exquisitely painted with a large Nazi swastika on one side. Dreadnought glanced around at the other items on display here and sneered to himself; all these things were fakes, useless pieces of metal and plastic, carefully worked over so that they would deceive the foolish, unsuspecting public. And yet this one, the most important one, had been overlooked. Fools. Dreadnought saw movement on the glass surface – McLeod stepping up silently behind him. “Move,” he said. Swiftly, Dreadnought stepped aside. McLeod looked at the glass, measuring it with his eyes, looking for the best place to strike. He chose a spot low and to the right, where he could do optimum damage, then fired his sawn-off shotgun at it: the powerful blast echoed around the otherwise silent chamber and the glass disintegrated, falling like a sharp, deadly waterfall. The museum’s alarm shrieked instantly to life along with the generator-driven emergency lights hung every two yards at the juncture of the ceiling and walls. Neither Dreadnought nor McLeod moved. When the last of the glass had hit the ground, Dreadnought stepped forward, examined the large, exposed Nazi machine for a moment, then shifted his gaze up to the cathedral-ceiling’s translucent waterproof fabric that allowed the natural starlight to shine through.

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“We must work quickly,” he said, his gruff electronic voice giving off a menacing echo. “We won’t have much time…” McLeod nodded. “I’ll signal the extraction team.” “You – don’t move! Hands up!” McLeod and Dreadnought looked back. Guards were filing through the nearest door, six in all. Armed with guns and flashlights, they looked anything but happy to find intruders. Body shaking with enough force to mimic a seizure, Dreadnought pulled two large, evil-looking double-edged blades from a sheath on his belt, then stepped up to face the guards. One of the guards decided not to wait for the unauthorised and quite wellarmed visitor to attack. He squeezed the trigger of his gun – Blam! - and the bullet tore into Dreadnought’s arm. Dreadnought didn’t cry out or fall – he didn’t even seem to notice. The guard gaped at the small explosion of black tissue that appeared in the hole where his bullet had struck – not torn flesh, not spurting blood, but some kind of bizarre goo. Fear overrode his training and he fired again and again; a split second after his second shot, his panicking coworkers added their own bullets to the flurry. But Dreadnought wasn’t about to be hit again. He swung his circular blades up and over, twisting and turning until they were little more than a blur in front of his body. Sparks flashed in the dimly lit hallway as the shots ricocheted wildly, pinging through the shadows; three of the guards grunted and fell, struck by their own returning bullets. By that time, two of the others were practically on top of Dreadnought, but he made short work of them too, this time using his blades, letting their blood wash the floor beneath his feet and wash away where the black substance from his body had fallen. Finally it was just one last guard. “Don’t,” the man said. Dreadnought was too far away to reach him with his knives and the guard raised his weapon threateningly… then screamed as something he couldn’t see grabbed his wrist and twisted. The bone broke with a snap, then the flesh of his neck pushed upward under his chin, as though a ghost had wrapped invisible hands around his neck. Gagging, he flailed and kicked as he was lifted into the air, and it wasn’t until the red-and-yellow bubble lights of the police cars arriving outside shone through the windows that Dreadnought and McLeod could see what held the man. It was Zamza, his large arm muscles twitching and shifting beneath his skin as he seemingly gained more strength with each breath. A quick and brutal twist sent the top and bottom parts of the hapless guard’s body in different directions. The man went limp in Zamza’s hold, and he carefully tossed aside the dead body. He turned his powerful, mutated body to look at Dreadnought. “At your command, sir.” Nodding, Dreadnought turned back to the machine. “The extraction team will be in place within the hour,” McLeod told him, fingering a handheld radio. “It will take another few hours to dismantle the ceiling and winch the device onto the helicopter.” “Very well,” Dreadnought said. “I will take my leave of you now, then. I trust you can guarantee our success here?” “Yes sir,” McLeod nodded. “There is nothing to fear. We’re employing stealth technology. And if anyone tries to stop us, they’ll have Zamza to deal with. Isn’t that right, Z?” Zamza stood fully upright, and roared with the joy of his own existence.

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***

09:10 am

The War Museum was an imposing, four-storey structure comprised of mortared-together massive stone blocks and held up by pillars and pediments on all sides. Suspended from four wires across its grand entrance was a long banner, oversized and gaudy in red-and-white colours: AERIAL WARFARE: THE NAZI LUFTWAFFE

High over the museum’s roof hovered a black, unmarked cargo helicopter, its blades chopping the air with fierce intensity, its winching cables lowered down into the depths of the building. Illegal deeds were afoot here, there was absolutely no doubt about it. Peering through the truck’s one-way glass as they drove toward it, Axel Stone could see the museum entrance and the overabundance of people crammed into the area in front of it. Christmas Eve or not, it should have been nothing more than a normal morning filled with college students, tourists, folks grabbing a quick tour of the new exhibition on their lunch breaks. Instead, outside was complete chaos; in addition to the people who, willingly or unwillingly, had gotten trapped in the melee, there were policemen, television reporters, even mounted police. The numbers were too great to count, the noise solid enough to make it through the glass and into Axel’s ears. Dozens of reporters protested as the cops crowded them backward so they could wave a line of black sedans through. Not too far from where they were driving past, a blond reporter held a microphone close to her mouth and gave her waiting cameraman her best and brightest smile. “The NYPD has yet to issue a statement,” she said around a mouthful of capped, impeccably white teeth. “We’ve got SWAT vans, paramedics, you name it. And now here’s a garbage truck.” Her wide eyes and big smile faltered and she looked away from the camera for a moment, bewilderment etching into her pretty features as she tracked the vehicle. On the side of it, Axel knew she was reading ‘Waste Management Services’. “A garbage truck?” In the front cab, Max Hatchett, his face as impassive and plain as the workman’s clothes into which he’d rapidly changed, carefully steered the clunkylooking truck through the crowd while Adam Hunter, dressed in the same inconspicuous uniform, sat nervously on the passenger side, trying to take it all in. He’d thought he was going to get more than just a few days to get acclimated to his new transfer position before being tossed into field work. But that had been wishful thinking. The media crews outside were being held back by the security forces and when the people milling about looked up and saw the garbage truck bearing down on them, they parted like the Red Sea for Moses. Axel could see dozens of faces through the heavy, one-way glass that masqueraded as a mirrored logo on the side of the truck;

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only inches away, a mounted policeman worked his horse carefully through the people and slowly passed their vehicle, oblivious to its true nature. Axel shifted uncomfortably on the side bench, wishing he could stand up, stretch his legs, his arms, stretch something. It was always like this in undercover vehicles; even oversized ones like this – the amount of high-tech gear they carried onboard made space a premium. It was, after all, a fully equipped mobile crime lab, and Axel was sharing the space with several other people, which made things even more crowded. Sitting to his right, Blaze Fielding grinned, wondering what the days’ events would bring for her fledgling team. She was nervous, but excited at the same time. It was Firestorm’s first mission, and would be a good indicator of their ability to function as a proper detective agency, rather than just a ragtag group of fighters and ex-cops. Up front, Max steered the garbage truck into an interior courtyard, then let it coast slowly forward as heavy iron gates were readied behind them. He could see the FBI team outside, spreading out and ordering the uniformed cops to leave as they secured the area for themselves. The resentful stares from the local police did nothing to change the situation. That done, three FBI agents, Quarry, Murphy, and Moss, quickly closed the gates and had the entire area sealed off. The radio in Adam’s left hand crackled to life as Murphy told him, “All areas secured.” Adam craned his neck so he could look at the roof of the building in front of them. From the edge of the rooftop, Agent Lime gave them the all-clear signal. Adam lifted the radio to his mouth. “Seal the doors. Firestorm is coming in.” Max hit the brakes and the truck shuddered to a stop, then he pulled hard on a lever on the dashboard. In the back, the dumpster unfolded on its hinges, dropping like a drawbridge to reveal Axel, Blaze and Skate. Adam turned back and looked at them. “Okay guys, let’s sync up our locators.” Axel, Blaze, and Skate all flipped switches on their belts, at the same time Max and Adam flipped theirs. Tiny lights blinked to life and each made a barely perceptible beep. Satisfied, Axel clambered out of the garbage truck and headed toward the museum. Blaze, Skate, Adam, and Max were right on his heels, followed closely by Agent Murphy. The inside of the building was spacious and full of massive stone pillars and expensive marble panels. Display cases lined the walls on either side of the lobby area, but the various trinkets and items inside obviously hadn’t interested the bad guys. All the cases were intact – not a single piece of broken glass dared mar the immaculately swept floor. A couple more banners advertising the museum’s Luftwaffe exhibition flanked the wide marble staircase where they could be best viewed by visitors, not that anyone could’ve missed the huge one hanging outside. Agent Murphy pulled a report from a pocket hidden inside his coverall. He unfolded it and read the summary out loud. “At 0445 an alarm tripped in the main Exhibit Hall. Breaking and entering, robbery. Six guards dead. By 0515, an explosion ripped through the ceiling. At approximately 0600, the helicopter appeared…” Blaze nodded. “What exactly are they trying to steal here?” Murphy licked his lips. “Some kind of large, bomb dispersal machine, we think. If you know anything about modern-day carpet bombs, you won’t be too far off.” After an awkward pause, Murphy cleared his throat and motioned for the group to follow him down the main corridor. The sun had finally come up, the light of

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the morning shadowed in a checkerboard light-and-dark pattern cast by the faraway hanging lights. At the far end of the corridor was a double set of eight-foot-tall brass doors, brightly polished and impressive. They were closed, and while there was no indication that they should do so, Blaze found herself slowing as they approached them, her homo superior instincts making her more cautious than she had to be. “Wait,” she called, stopping in her tracks. “I’m sensing something…” Axel frowned. “What is it?” She gritted her teeth, staring at the door. “Something evil. Something hungry.” Adam racked the cocking action on his Beretta, swallowing dryly. “Ready when you are…” Axel took a deep breath. He wrapped his fingers around both door handles and pulled, then stepped into the unexpected, flickering, amber glow of fire on the other side.

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V

The Exhibit Hall was unnaturally dark, tinted mostly by the blue emergency lamps that had powered on to take the place of the regular light fixtures that had been destroyed. Many of the exhibit cases were crushed, their contents interspersed with the shattered glass and twisted pieces of metal strewn throughout the room; here and there, small piles of what had once been featured items crackled as they burned at floor level, like small campfires lit by hellish Boy Scouts. Somewhere ahead, Axel could see the vague outline of a large mechanical device that dominated the centre of the Hall as they walked toward it, apparently the main attraction of the exhibition – and the object of the enemy’s affection. He could see winching cables attached to steel rods on either side, the thing swaying slightly as it edged its way, slowly but surely, toward the newly-created hole in the ceiling far above. For something that had to weigh several tons, it was certainly a very impressive operation. The enemy had come prepared. Everything was in shadow but thanks to the fires, nothing around them was still. The darkness flickered and moved, making inanimate objects like Spitfire bulkheads, propellers, and a large statue of Adolf Hitler seem like living, twitching things – more than a few times Axel jumped as he thought he saw movement out the corner of his eye. So far though, it was turning out to be nothing more than fire-fed shadow patterns. No ambush, no enemy greeting party. “Where are they?” Max whispered, his eyes darting this way and that, expecting an attack at any moment. “Good question,” Axel said. He frowned then, and stopped in his tracks, signalling for the others to do the same. Blood-filled, half-chewed guard boots were scattered on the floor around them, the leather belts with the teeth marks in them, the tattered remains of scarlet-stained uniforms and hats. Blaze eyed them, then wrinkled her nose in disgust. “What the fuck?” she breathed, her aura flaring within her. “What the fuck is going on here…?” Axel’s heart was pounding in his chest. Before he could come back with a reply, he cocked his head and listened carefully. Was he hearing what he thought he was hearing? Oh yeah – there it was, the sickening sound of snapping bones and hearty chewing. The smell – a rancid odour of death and meat – increased and Axel scowled and reluctantly sniffed. “Yuck,” Skate winced. “Oh my God, it stinks…” Axel sniffed again, then tilted his head up as he finally realised the noise and noshing were coming from overhead. A huge, pale creature hung from the ceiling. The thing had powerful arms and hind legs riddled with muscles and thick veins, massive razor-sharp claws extending from its hands, along with a wicked-looking head covered in bushy, spiked hair. Its face was mostly hidden in the shadows so Axel couldn’t see everything, but he could hear it, all right. There was no mistaking the sound of slow chewing, and he could just see the bottom of the sharp-angled jaws that were shiny with blood. “What the fuck?” Blaze said again.

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The thing overhead seemed like it turned its head toward the sound of their voices, but it wasn’t going to be bothered with them until it was through with its meal. It just kept munching, hanging there without any apparent effort at all. “What is it?” Adam frowned, licking his lips. He gripped his Beretta tightly, his finger dancing over the trigger. If this thing made any false moves, he was going to shoot it without any hesitation. “Whatever it is, it’s eaten six guards, raw,” said Murphy. “Plus belts and boots.” He shook his head. “Jesus.” Suddenly, a voice echoed through the room from somewhere ahead, somebody shouting from beyond the machine on the winching cables: “Zamza! Attack!” As it heard its name, Zamza abruptly released his hold and dropped nimbly to the floor a few feet in front of them. Now that the creature was on the same level, Axel got treated to a better view of it, including part of its exposed neck. It looked like a cross between a human and a dog, or maybe a dinosaur, and Axel’s mouth twisted in disgust at the sight of its whitish-blue, slimy skin, cracked like old marble and crisscrossed with blue veins. Adam pulled the trigger on his Beretta, but the shot went wild. He fired again, the bullet whining past the creature’s head close enough to ruffle its spiky hair. Zamza raised to his hind legs and turned, then screeched and leaped away. Adam’s third shot ripped through two columns before it finally connected with Zamza. The bullet kept going, blasting right through it and destroying a statue and the large window on the other side of its body. Zamza gave a piercing squeal, loud enough to annoy even Max’s ears, then fell over onto one side. Before Adam could even blink, the thing was back on its feet again and it leapt towards him, impossibly fast, hitting him so hard that he sailed through the air and crashed into the brass doors. As the thick metal doors bulged and cracked, Adam felt the wind knocked out of him, his senses scrambled, completely disorientating him. Before he could find his way up again, Zamza was back, lashing out with a massive and extremely painful punch. “Adam!” Blaze screamed. Adam flew to one side, taking out at least six of the surrounding glass cabinets before he hit one of the big reinforced windows. Some reinforcement – he crashed through it and kept going – falling - a full two stories through the darkness outside the building, the extra high stories that only hundred-year-old government buildings and museums can lay claim to. He landed hard on his side on some kind of industrial garbage bin. Blood dripped from his mouth, and as he fought to stay conscious and drag his bruised body out of the metal box, he winced with agony. At least one of his ribs was broken. After what seemed like an eternity of pain, he rolled to his knees, then tensed his muscles to stand up. But before it could happen, something blurred before his eyes and the ground vibrated. When his vision stopped shaking, Adam realised that Zamza had dropped into the space between him and his gun, his landing a lot easier than Adam’s own. Adam lunged for the gun, but before his hand could close around it, a white forked tongue, as thick as an arm and seven feet long, whipped out from Zamza’s mouth. Butter-coloured sacs billowed out from the tongue’s fleshy length, expanding and contracting. Adam grunted and fell beneath more agony than he’d ever felt, writhing as the thing squeezed and pulled on his arm, grinding his teeth where Zamza’s flesh was burning his arm. He tried to pull away but Zamza’s hold only

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tightened, like a boa constrictor locking in closer with every exhalation of its prey. In another few seconds, Adam was going to start screaming, and he didn’t want to do that, not here and now, and especially not for the satisfaction of this Zamza freak. Blam! Blam! Blam! Muzzle flashes cut through the alley’s darkness and around the pain; Adam realised Murphy was suddenly there, the barrel of his .44 Magnum dribbling smoke as he emptied his rounds at the freakish creature attacking Adam. Blue liquid – Zamza’s blood, exploded from half a dozen holes in his tongue, and with a squeal the creature released Adam and snapped his tongue back into his mouth. The pain was nearly smothering, but Adam managed to roll away, combatcrawling until he could take cover behind the dumpster. Out of one swollen eye, he saw Murphy dive for the Beretta; a snatch and a grab, then the gun was in Murphy’s hand. The agent then plunged behind the container to where Adam lay, trying to recover, willing to mend itself and be damned quick about it. “What are you doing?” Adam demanded. Murphy held up the Beretta. “Saving your ass,” he announced. “I just – ” KLANG! Murphy jumped and almost dropped the gun as Zamza’s tongue literally punched through the steel-sided dumpster. KLANG! KLANG! Their luck was holding – for now – and each time the creature’s tongue barely missed them. But how much longer could they hold out? Murphy’s gaze fell on Adam’s arm as he loaded a fresh clip into the weapon. The flesh was smoking, and inside an ugly bloody gash was gleaming in the morning light. “Jesus,” he exclaimed. “I’ll be fine.” Despite his badly injured arm, Adam was again churning with energy. He grabbed the reloaded Beretta from Murphy’s hand, and boldly stepped out from behind the dumpster, ready to confront their monstrous attacker. Zamza’s whitish tongue instantly wrapped around the gun’s muzzle. Always aiming to be cooperative, Adam fired. Blam! Blam! Blam! Zamza screeched. Bright blue goo saturated the creature’s chest. Startled, it shrieked and released its hold, then did a weird body-twist and took off – up and over the wall separating the museum’s private alley from the rest of the city, and then it was gone. Adam exhaled heavily, watching it go, then dropped to his knees in exhaustion. “That’s right, bitch,” he puffed. “You’d better run…”

***

“Adam!” Blaze screamed. Before she could react, Zamza leapt towards him with incredible speed and knocked him clean through one of the big reinforced windows. The glass shattered violently and Adam tumbled out of sight. “Noooo!” Zamza reared up, made a hissing sound, and then leapt through the window after him, curling its considerable body into a ball-shape and spinning like a buzz-saw through the open air.

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Murphy ran to the broken window – which was now more like a hole in the wall – and looked down. He saw Adam, badly injured, laying in the private alley beside the museum, with Zamza bearing down on him now, preparing to strike. “They’re in the alley!” Murphy said, and ran back toward the brass doors, his mind racing. “I’ll go! I know the way!” Blaze nodded, licking her lips. Everything was happening so fast. “Okay. Help him… we’ll deal with Dreadnought and McLeod.” When Murphy was gone, a loud, echoing laughter filled the Exhibit Hall. Axel frowned, and turned back in the direction of the winching cables. “Come on guys,” he said. “Let’s focus on the mission here…” He started toward the huge Nazi machine, gesturing for the others to follow. When they were almost directly beneath it, a man dressed in a smart Armani suit stepped out of the shadows. “I was wondering when you were going to show up,” he was saying. It was Silver McLeod. His face was unshaven, his eyes hidden behind a pair of reflective shades, and he held a pistol in one hand, the barrel trained carefully at Axel’s chest. “Silver McLeod,” Skate observed. The man smiled. “Correct. You’ve done your homework, little man. Shouldn’t you be in college or something?” he chuckled. “Seriously though, I must say, I’ve been expecting this encounter… ever since I saw Miss Fielding here on that godawful television show. I hate reality television. It’s ridiculous. But when I heard that the group of vigilantes responsible for the downfall of my mentor – Leon Shiva – were going to appear as guests… I just had to see it for myself. What is it you’re calling yourself now… firestorm, is it? I’m just surprised it took you this long to find us.” Blaze’s eyes narrowed. Her hands were wrapped around the cold steel of a Desert Eagle handgun pointed at McLeod’s head. “Drop the weapon,” she told him. “You’re outnumbered.” McLeod smiled, and seemed to relax a little. “Drop the weapon? But I’m not quite finished here.” He glanced up at the Nazi machine, which was by now almost through the hole in the ceiling. Far above, large hydraulic cargo doors opened on the underside of the helicopter, ready to accept its precious cargo. “Another few minutes, and we’ll be out of your hair.” Axel frowned. “Why go to all this trouble for that hunk of junk?” McLeod barked a short laugh. “If you knew anything about the Rakushin Diffusion Engine, you’d know it was a one-of-a-kind… designed by Dreadnought himself. Just because it’s old, doesn’t mean it’s useless. He simply wants his property back. It doesn’t belong here.” Blaze swallowed dryly. “And speaking of Dreadnought… where is he?” McLeod grinned. Even though he was outnumbered five-to-one, he acted like a man who still held all the aces. “I’m afraid you’ve just missed him, my dear. If you’d bothered to turn up any sooner, I might have been able to introduce you to him, but unfortunately for you, he had to leave.” “We’ll deal with the war criminal later,” Axel said. “Now, drop the weapon and call off the helicopter, or we’ll shoot you down where you stand. There’s nowhere to go. The FBI and the NYPD have the building surrounded. And the moment your helicopter leaves Manhattan, the Air Force is going to shoot it down.” McLeod laughed. “I had honestly thought you were going to be smarter than this, but it appears I was mistaken. No, I think you’ll find it is you who are outnumbered. Outnumbered by bombs.” Axel frowned. “What… What are you talking about?”

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“The Shadow Alliance has a number of small Rakushin bombs set to detonate at key points throughout the Manhattan area,” McLeod told him. “If anything happens to me or the success of my mission here, the bombs will be detonated. Millions will die. So if I were you, I would call off that Air Force strike, and allow the helicopter, with me and the device safely onboard of course, to leave this place unscathed.” “What’s a Rakushin bomb?” Skate asked, confused. “Rakushin…” Max pondered. “I thought that was only theoretical…” McLeod raised his eyebrows. “Not any more. And I can assure you, the devastation we can cause with just these small devices will be enough to make nineeleven seem like a little fart. If you allow me to go about my business and leave here unharmed, the bombs will be defused and taken away. So, what happens here, it’s your call.” “Fuck!” Blaze hissed. “What do we do, Axel?” “He’s bluffing,” Skate said, his eyebrows creased in a stern expression. Axel shook his head. His thoughts were racing. “We can’t take that chance, Skate.” He lowered his weapon cautiously. “Dammit. Lower your weapons, people. There’s too much at stake.” “That’s better,” McLeod said, watching them comply. Surprisingly, he lowered his weapon too. “I’ll resist the urge to kill you now. That wouldn’t be very sporting of me, and since you have been so gracious to me – I’m letting you live. But I warn you, if you attempt to interfere with the affairs of the Shadow Alliance again, I will not be so lenient. Your lives will be forfeit, make no mistake.” He gestured toward the broken window where Adam and Zamza had disappeared. “Now I suggest you go help your friends.” Blaze shot the man an icy glance. They had no choice but to let this bastard go. As outrageous as it seemed, they were powerless to stop him, castrated by his threats. Judging by some of the Shadow Alliance’s atrocities in the past, it wasn’t an empty threat, either. Resignedly, Axel brought his radio to his mouth and pressed the transmit button. “Agent Quarry? Agent Moss, come in. This is Firestorm. There’s been a change in plans…”

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VI

Firestorm Headquarters Colorado December 25th

In the medical lab, the unconscious form of Adam Hunter floated serenely in a special tank filled with a luminous, gelatinous red fluid. Affixed to the inside of the Plexiglas were a series of LED strips that monitored the fluid temperature, pH level, body toxins, waste, and a hundred other things which the Firestorm doctors were being well paid to analyse. Essentially, the fluid itself, known as Aias, was a synthetic chemical substance that consisted of bacterial particles derived from exotic fungi. These particles were mixed within a colourless, viscous fluid known as ambori – an artificially-created variation of amniotic fluid – creating what was often thought of as a “miracle fluid”, seemingly effective against almost every type of injury. It was relatively new medical technology, having only been introduced on a large-scale in late 2016, but in the past two years it had been heralded as one of medical science’s ‘greatest breakthroughs’. When a patient was exposed to Aias, the bacterial particles within sought out wounds and promoted rapid tissue regeneration, though it was unable to prevent the emergence of scar tissue when it came to more serious wounds. Wrapped all the way around Adam’s naked torso and right arm was a biocast, a cybernetic healing unit that would, hopefully, speed Adam along the road to recovery. It turned out that the damage inflicted on him by Zamza the previous morning had been a lot more serious than any of them had first thought, and he was going to need at least two or three days in the Aias Chamber before he would be back to perfect health. Sitting on a nearby exam table, Axel Stone studied his pal, not really thinking so much as… concentrating. If focus could actually make something happen then he was going to focus Adam along a little faster. “He’ll make it,” a voice said softly from behind him. Axel turned and saw Blaze standing there dressed in a black Jersey Boob Tube, with a champagnecoloured sequin skirt and black crossover-strap sandals. Her make-up was done to the nines, and she looked absolutely stunning. Her hair was down and thrown over one shoulder, and as usual, the small but elegant beauty spot on her left cheek really complimented her deep brown eyes and perfectly set red lips. God, she was attractive – every man’s dream for sure. The overall impression was ruined, however, by the sour look on her face. “But that’s no way to spend Christmas Day.” Blaze’s expression went even darker. “And I can’t imagine the families of the people I killed are having a great time, either.” Axel nodded, then cleared his throat. “Blaze, you have to stop blaming yourself for that. You’re right, the people in that hotel didn’t deserve to die… but you don’t deserve to be punished for something that is ultimately outside of your control,

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either. These homo superior powers… have been forced on you against your will, and they’ve been dormant for most of your life. The fact that they’ve all come rushing in at once, before you’ve had a chance to get to grips with them properly… anyone would struggle with that, ya know? You shouldn’t be blamed for those deaths. It was an accident, pure and simple.” She rubbed her fingers together absently. “Yeah, I know. It just pisses me off that the Federal Government chose to use a cover story, instead of telling the families what really happened. They probably think their loved ones died in a gas explosion. Now, I imagine they’re having the worst Christmas of their lives. Believe me, I know how it feels to be in the dark about the deaths of family members…” He hesitated, then sighed resignedly. “I’m sorry, Blaze. I really am. I don’t think any of us are gonna have much of a Christmas this year, either way…” She walked up to the Aias Chamber and stared at Adam’s unconscious form, putting her hands up to the Plexiglas. After a while she said, “He looks so peaceful. Not a care in the world.” Her face was suddenly contorted with grief, tears streaming down her face. “Hey,” Axel said, moving toward her. “Come here.” He reached out and tenderly pulled her close to his chest. Her head lolled against his shoulder and she wept, her arms hanging limp. She heard his strong and steady heartbeat through his shirt. Axel couldn’t bear to see Blaze like this. He lowered his face gently and kissed her hair. His voice was low and utterly heartbroken. “You’re not alone.” Blaze pulled away from him, blinking back tears. “I know.” Axel took a deep breath, and decided that now was the right moment. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a small jewellery case, then handed it to her. “I know it’s not much,” he said, “but I didn’t want this occasion to pass by completely without giving you some kind of gift. Open it.” She managed to smile, then unclipped the case and pulled it open. Inside was an exquisitely-designed necklace of eighteen-carat white gold, with a three stone pendant of one carat diamond. Blaze gasped, putting one hand to her chest. “Oh, Axel, it’s beautiful!” Axel smiled at her. “Merry Christmas, Blaze.” He took the necklace and fastened it around her neck. She gripped the pendant with her left hand, smiled, then wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss softly on his lips. “Thankyou Axel,” she whispered. “I love you.” “I love you too, Blaze,” he told her.

***

December 28th

It was, at times, hard to believe that this whole base was underground, especially when all you could see were the rather nondescript offices, formerly used by government personnel, lining the main corridor of level twenty as you walked down it. It looked more like an office building, and if you squinted your eyes long enough and tried to ignore the taste of recycled air being pumped through the life-

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support system, you could convince yourself you were in some sleek, modern skyscraper somewhere, rather than half a mile beneath the surface of the Colorado Rockies. What was in front of Blaze now was, at least by government standards (which usually meant grey filing cabinets, cluttered desks, and lots of electronic equipment that largely didn’t work but couldn’t be thrown out because it was government property), blatantly decadent. Walking almost at a jog, Blaze emerged from the end of the main corridor into a large central area which had the Firestorm logo inset into the floor in solid brass. Evenly spaced at strategic points, intelligence-gatherers were monitoring computer stations while others tracked blips on tactical holographic boards. All very high tech and big money – but since Firestorm was for the most part privately funded (thanks to Max Hatchett’s enormous personal wealth, not to mention her own), they could pretty much afford to be as high-tech as they needed. At the outer edge of this central area, corridors radiated outward like the spokes of a wheel, each interspersed with glass partitions and leading to offices and chambers and God knew what else. In the short space of time they had been here, even Blaze herself hadn’t had time to fully explore the base yet, and she was sure she wouldn’t find time for a while to come, not with the current situation as dire as it was. Some things never changed. There was Adam Hunter, heading her way from one of the satellite corridors. He was freshly showered, wearing a dark shirt and slacks. “Welcome back,” Blaze said to him, a grim expression on her face. “How are you feeling?” Adam nodded. “A lot better now. I’m pretty much healed completely. Still a bit achy, but I’ll be fine.” “Good,” she said. “This way.” They made a beeline for the briefing room.

Blaze had the projection screen warmed up, and now she hit a button on the remote and the darkened briefing room filled with light from the screen, the tan colour of an old, curling photograph from World War Two. The image washed the room in a sort of sepia tone, making the faces of the team seated around the table look sallow and unhealthy, painting deep-set shadows beneath their eyes and in the hollows of their cheeks. “The idea behind Rakushin dates back to World War Two,” Blaze was saying. “In fact, it was Dreadnought himself who originally pioneered the concept, during his time as a Nazi scientist. He even coined the term ‘Rakushin’” She used a laser pointer to highlight one of the individuals in the photograph. It was Dreadnought, wearing a freakish gas-mask and holding the flag of Nazi Germany, standing with a bunch of other Nazi officers. “It was 1943,” Blaze continued. “While the Americans were busy trying to smash the uranium atom, Dreadnought was secretly designing something that, in theory, could be over a thousand times more destructive than the first A-Bomb that dropped on Hiroshima. The key to this destructive power was a particle that only existed theoretically, a particle which would go undiscovered until 1979, in fact, when Victor Zan stumbled upon it by accident.” Blaze turned and faced the men listening attentively to her, then folded her arms. Backlit by the tan lighting, Blaze couldn’t see Max Hatchett’s face, but the hard tone of his voice covered it all: “You’re talking about Laxine.”

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She nodded. “Basically, Dreadnought theorised that a stable isotope of this ‘theoretical particle’ with an increase of three-hundred-percent to its atomic mass, would create a new element, one that could never occur naturally, that would, potentially, be the most destructive substance in the known universe. He named it ‘Rakushin’.” “So what happened? Why did his research stop?” That was Skate. “Aside from the fact that the Laxine atom was still undiscovered, Dreadnought’s research was actually stolen from him in early 1944, by none other than Arnold Ernst Toht, a Nazi soldier who later served under Dreadnought’s command in the Battle of Berlin. Dreadnought, of course, had no idea at the time who had stolen his work, so I guess he must have shelved the research in favour of something else, figuring that the Rakushin idea was useless anyway. Both these men survived the war, and went on to become powerful figures in the New Syndicate, over seventy years later.” “Why did Toht steal the research?” Skate asked. “I mean, if it was useless…” “No-one knows,” Blaze told him. “Personal glory, no doubt. I’m pretty confident now that Dreadnought did eventually find out about it though, and it’s the reason Toht was killed by Dreadnought’s agents, just over two weeks ago in Miami.” An awkward silence fell over the room, as the team digested this information, linking it with their experience at the War Museum four days earlier. “So now he has the research back,” Max observed, “he has a source of Rakusin, and he’s converting it into Rakushin bombs.” Axel leaned forward, taking a deep breath. “That’s how it would appear. I think we can safely assume they’re planning on some kind of large-scale attack, now they have that ‘Rakushin Diffusion Engine’ on their hands as well. Potentially, we could be facing a repeat of what happened at Wood Oak and London. If so, it will edge the world even closer to nuclear Armageddon.” “Fucking fantastic,” Adam muttered. “We need to track down the Shadow Alliance and most importantly this Dreadnought character, as soon as possible.” Blaze said. “We have to put a stop to this… before something terrible happens. Millions, potentially billions, of lives are at stake.” Max swallowed dryly. “Any idea where we can start looking?” Blaze snapped off the projector and cleared her throat. “Actually yes.” She started gathering up her papers and shoving them jerkily into a briefcase. “You’re already aware that Dreadnought was restored to life in 2014, receiving his cybernetic implants from none other than Dr. Henry Dahm.” “Sure.” “Well, it would seem that Dr. Dahm’s motivation for ‘resurrecting’ Dreadnought was a personal one – turns out his own father, Diedrich Dahm, also served under Dreadnought during World War Two. So, if anybody can tell us something about where Dreadnought may be hiding, Dr. Dahm is our best bet.” Max nodded. “Dr. Dahm is serving a life sentence at Arkham…” “That’s right,” Blaze said. “Arkham Asylum doesn’t usually allow visitors, but I think in this case they’ll make an exception. We leave as soon as we get clearance and equipment.”

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VII

Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane 250 miles west of France January 2nd, 2019

Eddie “Skate” Hunter really hadn’t been prepared for this. Yeah, he’d had the briefing along with everybody else, seen the photographs, read the reports. But even with all that information, nothing could quite prepare him for the twisted horror that was Arkham Asylum. From the very moment they stepped through the main entrance, they could hear the distant screams of the inmates echoing through the century-old, stone-built facility – screams that made Skate’s blood run cold. He’d never been anywhere quite like this before in his entire life. Sure, he’d visited regular prisons before, paying friendly visits to some of his former school friends who had been put away for Grand Theft Auto or holding up a liquor store or some shit like that – but here, at one of, if not the most heavily-fortified prisons in the world, which housed some of the world’s most notorious, insane criminals… this was the real deal, the icepick stab of reality right to his frontal lobe. And man, Skate was getting a serious case of brain freeze. The team was led through a main foyer area by one of the guards. Up above, an open balcony was flanked on either side by reinforced glass windows. Skate could see dark figures through the lighted windows, inmates staring down curiously, shoving each other out of the way to get a better view. The maximum security personnel up there were clearly having a hell of a time keeping them all quiet and calm. “Don’t worry about them,” the guard said without stopping. “They’re just curious. We don’t usually get visitors here. In fact, you’re the first in almost a decade.” Skate shuddered inwardly. He could see some of the inmates with their palms plastered against the windows, pushing on the glass and rocking with excitement. “I’m surprised you allow them to mix together like that,” he probed. The guard waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, they’re not dangerous, really. They’re just crazy. No, the really dangerous ones are kept in solitary confinement on G Wing.” “This place brings back some bad memories for me,” Blaze said, her eyes slightly lowered. She whispered to Skate, “It even smells like Edgemont in here…” Skate didn’t say anything. He didn’t know Blaze before she was a cop on the LAPD, but he’d heard all the stories about her early life many times. He couldn’t imagine that she was having much fun right now. When they reached the security checkpoint, another guard checked their names against a clipboard, then let them inside, where Dr. Marsh was waiting for them at the visitor’s reception desk. Everything down on this floor smelled of clinics and oil, and all the nurses and maintenance personnel had this vaguely terrified visage – their eyes darted back and forth, and they jumped at noises that were just a shade louder than normal.

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“G Wing, second floor,” Dr. Marsh said, then led them down the hall. The white-haired woman shot them a sideways glance. “We had this floor renovated during the eighties with metal reinforcements. Nobody has ever escaped from here, I’m pleased to say.” “Oh,” was all Skate could think of to say. After a long walk through a series of twisting corridors, the doctor stopped at a locked set of double doors with narrow, wire-reinforced windows and motioned to the two security guards on the other side. A buzzer sounded, disengaging the lock. Skate, Blaze, Axel, Adam and Max followed the doctor through. She led them to the second window in a row of five, and when Skate looked through it, he realised he was seeing through one-way glass. The room before them was padded heavily and, except for the silver camera high in the corner, completely white. There’d been monitors at the guard station they’d passed, so it was obvious where the feed from the camera went. “He’s been like this ever since he was first committed,” Dr. Marsh said as they all looked through the window at Henry Dahm. The old man’s wrinkled face was lined with shock and tension. “He’s one of our more fruity inmates. Quite bipolar, it turns out. One minute he’ll be fairly calm, the next he’ll be ranting and raving, trying to escape from his strait jacket. He insists he’s perfectly sane.” She gave them a dubious look. “Are you sure you want to go in?” Blaze and Axel both nodded. A final, worried look, then Dr. Marsh inclined her head toward the guard back at the door; he must’ve pushed a button because a second later the door to Dahm’s cell clanked and opened slightly. Axel pushed through first, and once they were all inside he pulled it closed behind them until he heard the lock catch. Dressed in a strait jacket covered with damp drool patches, Henry Dahm was sitting on a heavily upholstered chair and staring into space; he didn’t even acknowledge their presence or even blink as Blaze Fielding knelt in front of him. “Dr. Dahm?” Instead of responding, Dahm purposely turned his head away. While someone else might have taken this as a rejection, Blaze was heartened. Any response other than catatonia was a plus. “Dr. Dahm,” she repeated. She paused, then told him something he likely already knew. “We’ve come here today because we need your help.” Silence. “Henry,” she said, then paused, trying to think of something that might soften him up. She went for the obvious. “May I call you Henry? It’s a lovely name – ” Dahm sighed, and they heard a hint of impatience in the sound. “Don’t patronise me, Miss Fielding,” he said. “I’m not stupid, you know.” He turned his head to look at her. “Neither, for that matter, am I insane. The only reason I’m being held in this godforsaken Asylum is because you put me in here.” Axel smiled to himself. He’d expected a comment like that. Aloud, he said, “Don’t you believe you deserve to be in here? After everything you’ve done? Project Y?” Dahm looked down at his wrists thoughtfully. “There is a part of me that believes that. A very small part. But no. No, no, no, this is a grave injustice. The revolution should have succeeded… the governments of this world should have been toppled. Mr. X should be our ruler…” His voice was growing louder with each word. Then he licked his lips, and went quiet again. “But it’s not over yet. I promise you, it’s really not…”

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Blaze shook her head. “Sorry doc. Mr. X and Shiva are both dead. Your revolution is finished. All that remains of the Syndicate now are a whole bunch of remnant forces, warring amongst themselves. There is no central leadership, nothing to gel them together anymore. Now we’re taking them down, one gang at a time…” “That’s cute,” Dahm sneered. He chuckled to himself, as if he knew something they didn’t, then looked away. “So you’ve come to me for information. What makes you think I’ll be co-operative?” Adam’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step forward toward him. “How would you like to spend the rest of your days here in a deprivation chamber? I’m talking complete sensory deprivation. No light, no sound. Forever.” “You can’t do that,” Dahm said. “I have human rights.” “We can,” Axel assured him. “And your human rights are changing. I think you’ll find that the United Nations Declaration on Human Rights is being re-written right now. The world is on the brink of a major historical change. You see, thanks to the actions of your precious Syndicate, a new, global democratic constitution is being prepared. Within two years, there will be a single world government, and the old UN will be redundant. So if anything, your dreams of revolution are backfiring as we speak. In a way there has been a revolution, just the complete opposite of what Mr. X would have wanted.” Dahm scoffed. “That’s horse shit. A global constitution could never work. You could never unify the Western powers with the Middle-East. It’s a clash of civilisations…” “A lot has happened in the world since you were put in here,” Axel said matter-of-factly. “The nuclear destruction of London was the catalyst for major global change. It’s a fact, so just accept it. The point is, at this moment in time, putting you in a deprivation chamber can be easily arranged. We already have Presidential approval. If you’re uncooperative, that is.” “If you don’t think you’re insane now,” Adam said, “wait until you’ve spent a year, maybe two, in there. I’m certain you’ll have gone absolutely mad.” Dahm went silent for a moment as his twisted mind processed this new information. He screwed his face up, then shook his head. “Very well. What do you want to know?” Satisfied, Blaze took a deep breath, got to her feet, and took a couple of steps back. “Four years ago, you ‘resurrected’ the notorious Nazi war criminal, Dreadnought. Correct?” Dahm’s beady eyes darted from side to side, and he smiled. “Yes. That is correct.” “That must have been important to you,” Blaze probed. “To learn more about the father you never knew…” “You know nothing about my father,” Dahm spat. He gritted his teeth. “I’d prefer if we avoided this personal line of questioning, if it’s all the same with you. You sound like a fucking shrink…” “Very well, I’ll get to the point,” Blaze said. It seemed that she had ruffled his feathers with that little comment about his father. Apparently, it was a sensitive issue. “We need to know where we can find this ‘Dreadnought’. You know him. Where would he most likely be operating from?” Dahm took a deep breath. His gaze darted between their faces, then back to Blaze. “Causing trouble for you, is he?” He chuckled. “The man is nefarious. Of course, I use the term ‘man’ loosely. Nowadays, he’s more of a machine. A gobetween of Project X and Project Y technology. Not strictly alive either. The heart in

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his chest stopped beating many years ago.” He swallowed, then pondered the matter for a moment further. “A genius, of course. From what I know of him, I would say he wouldn’t stray too far from his native Germany. He likes to operate underground, just like he did during the War. He owned and operated a genetics laboratory at the time, where he experimented on thousands of people. As far as I know, that place has still gone undiscovered, so it’s likely he’s still using it. But I suspect he would only go there on special occasions. I would say your best bet is to scour the sewer systems of Berlin. There are a lot of old tunnels down there from during the War, which have been long forgotten in the years since.” Adam was taking notes on a PDA. “Anything else you can tell us?” Dahm shook his head. “That’s all I could tell you. Unless you wanted me to bore you with the technical details of his cybernetic components.” “That won’t be necessary,” Axel said. Dahm nodded. “Good. Now get out of my sight, you cretinous fools. My patience is wearing thin.” Blaze signalled to the guard outside, and the door clanked as it unlocked. She turned to Dahm and said, “I hope for your sake, this information is accurate.” Dahm lowered his gaze, and an evil, insane grin came over his features. As he watched them file out of the door, under his breath, he muttered, “We’ll be seeing each other again soon, either way…”

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VIII

Berlin, Germany January 3rd

The light and sound of the subway train screaming past was more like an explosion than anything else. It roared through the tunnel with a blast of high beams, and then it was gone, leaving behind a sudden, teeth-jittering emptiness and a ringing in the ears. Circles of light abruptly swept the space, revealing walls encrusted with mildew and rusting steel columns dripping with moisture and stains. Here and there rats chittered and scurried through the filthy, trash-filled puddles in the centre of the tracks, their clawed feet making erratic trails among the debris. Adam Hunter swung his own flashlight from side to side, occasionally kicking a rodent that dared get too close; Max and Skate followed behind him with their weapons drawn. Trailing to the rear and taking in the not-so-touristy sights in companionable silence, were Axel and Blaze. It had taken less than nine hours to get here from Arkham Asylum, which was some feat considering that at first, they had had no idea where to start. Dr. Dahm’s information had been vague at best, but luckily for them, Max had a contact in Berlin who knew exactly where to find these ‘lost tunnels’, and he owed Max a favour. As Blaze walked, she tried to fight back that heat – that bizarre sensation that was her aura – from swelling too much around her being. Since the incident at the hotel, she had been using a special meditation technique, taught to her by Joe Musashi a few months earlier, to bring the aura under control. But since the memory wipe, it was proving extremely difficult to do so. She took a deep breath, determined that she would be able to control this thing, that she would master her new abilities for the good of Firestorm and the mission. Nobody else would get hurt in the process. Finally they turned off the main subway tunnel and filed into a side tunnel that was too narrow to let past more than two people at a time. After about twenty feet it widened into a small alcove, itself ending at a couple of double metal doors hanging crookedly on what was left of rust-eaten hinges. Adam kicked the doors open and shone his light inside, then motioned for the others that it was okay to follow. Inside was a storeroom of sorts, piled high with abandoned filing cabinets, old-fashioned typewriters, and stained desks with thousands of names and figures carved into the humidity-soaked wood. Although the walls in here were just as humidity-soaked as the tunnels, they could see the remains of an eighty-year-old mural that ran the full length of the side wall. On it, Nazi soldiers were depicted doing charitable acts – one was helping old ladies with groceries, another coaxed a cat from a tree, yet another tied a shoe for a child smaller than him. Above the figures was a huge, faded swastika. It was all very holier-than-thou, and beneath the painted German phrase “Ein Deutschland. Ein Volk. Ein Führer”, the translation of which wasn’t exactly difficult to figure out.

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Max shook out a triple-wide map provided by his contact, then shone his flashlight on it. “We’re in the cellar of an old office building, formerly used by the Nazi party,” he told the others as he pointed at a spot on the paper. “It’s been closed since they moved the sewers in 1941.” He refolded the map and put it away; the sound of the paper crinkling was unpleasant, magnified by the high ceiling and the air currents of the close-by tunnels. The long beams of their flashlights bobbed and left tracer images as they constantly aimed them at the lightless corners and the blacker areas beneath the junked pieces of furniture. Next to Axel, Blaze extended one hand into the air, concentrating for a moment on the feelings emanating through her aura. She tilted her head thoughtfully, then nodded. “We’re definitely on the right track,” she said. “I can sense the same… darkness… I sensed at the museum. We need to be very careful down here.” Eyes glittering, she raised her other hand and pointed. “That way. There’s a hidden doorway there.” The team immediately turned the beams of their lights in that direction. “Okay people,” Axel said. “You heard the lady…” Max and Adam moved forward and shouldered aside a couple of filing cabinets that were in the way, but all they found was a blank concrete wall, as stained and dirty as the rest of the room. “No way in,” said Max. Adam nodded and faced the others. “We should go back and request permission to – ” BAM! Adam jumped back as behind him Max Hatchett’s considerable fist smashed into the wall blocking their progress. Cracks spider-webbed from the point of impact and a small chunk of concrete and blood flew outward. “Jesus, Max…” Before Adam could protest, Max raised his hand and beat on the wall again, and again, faster and faster until his fist was a blur and the wall just couldn’t stand up to the assault.

The quiet humming of the machines around him was comforting. Stable, calming, consistent… exactly what he liked to hear when he was trying to relax. Sitting quietly at a table in a lower level machine room, Dreadnought methodically worked on repairing his cybernetic hand, following the techniques once taught to him by Dr. Dahm. Normally his hand worked fine, but the humidity and the grime down here had worked their way into a couple of the gears and made two of the finger joints stick. He wanted it to work like the scores of machines around him – steadily, reliable, no break in the routine. This was a good place, a private place, a place from where he could conduct his personal business without fear of discovery by the outside world. For a change he could loosen the leather mask that normally covered his face, not worry about keeping his deformities covered. McLeod and Zamza were used to it and didn’t care anyway, but occasionally he had to interact with others; rarely could those people handle the sight of his wet-looking eyes, bulging and lidless, the raw-gummed, skullish face that was exposed by taut skin and a mouth that had no lips, no lower jaw bone. To the everyday observer, he appeared quite monstrous. But down here it was different; down here there was no judgement… amongst the machines that Dr. Dahm himself had used to bring him back from the dead four years earlier.

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At least, that’s what he assumed had happened to him. Sometime in the 1950s, he was sure he had died... then somehow – he still walked this earth, naked, albeit in a very different place from where he remembered. The memory was a blur, a dark blot on his mind, but he could remember fire… and strange creatures roaming an ashcovered, volcanic landscape – a landscape akin to Hell on Earth. There was pain, lots of pain and suffering, lots of gnashing teeth… such a strange, confusing place. Then something happened, something he couldn’t quite remember, and he found himself here – underground, amongst these machines. Back, it would seem, in the real world, with Dr. Dahm standing over him, in the year 2014. Now, with these cybernetic upgrades, his body had reached physical and technical perfection. He was faster, stronger, and smarter than ever before, and soon, his ultimate dreams would come to fruition, and the world would be begging for mercy at his feet – Something pounded through the layers of concrete walls that separated him from the main tunnels. Dreadnought grimaced and abandoned his work on the hand as he listened to the dull hammering. It sounded far away but sound could be deceiving down here; one moment it could sound muffled by the heavy architecture, another it could echo as though overhead. This time, though, he could go on the physical – on the tabletop the cybernetic hand rattled with every blow. It was time… Dreadnought snapped the hand back into place, quickly strapped his mask on, and rose. With quick, spiderlike movements, he retrieved a document folder and opened it. Inside were some handwritten notes scrawled on a couple of sheets of paper; he took them out and placed one sheet carefully down on the table, then took the other sheet and placed it in a pouch on his belt. With a last, regretful look at Dr. Dahm’s machines, Dreadnought turned and hurried out of the room.

There was enough concrete dust in the air to choke a horse, but Max waved it away and gestured toward the ragged, man-sized hole he’d beaten through the wall. “You coming or not?” he asked the others. Adam gave him an uncertain look, watching as Max pushed through the opening, his massive shoulders scraping the sides. Finally Adam followed him through, turning back to give Skate, Axel and Blaze the all-clear. Once they were all through the hole, Blaze found that they were standing in the middle of an abandoned shower room. The area was finished with mildewed tiles that might have once been white but were now cracked and blackened, the stains showing patterns where water had leaked through the years. The showers formed a sort of large oval, ringed with rusty metal pipes that were still spilling water onto the floor after all this time. The floor itself was slanted down to a large metal grate in the centre. Blaze studied the grate, looking at it intently as she tried to read the sensations transmitted through her aura. Eventually she glanced at Max and nodded; immediately Max leaned down and with a chesty “Hmmmphf!” yanked the grate free and spun it off to the side, where it banged loudly against the wall and wobbled to a stop. A second later, hundreds of roaches streamed out of the newly opened hole, fleeing from the unexpected intruders.

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Adam made a face as they watched the bugs scurry for new hiding places. “Nice,” he said sarcastically. “Blaze, are you sure we’re going the right way?” Blaze didn’t say anything. She was too busy peering into the dark hole in the floor, trying to see into the vast blackness below, reaching out with feelers from her aura. Whatever awaited them in this horrible place was closer now, its malevolence becoming more and more apparent the further they progressed. She frowned, and her stomach suddenly tied itself into a knot. “Wait,” she said. “Something’s wrong…” “What is it?” Axel asked, a concerned expression coming over his features. Max was about to say something sarcastic about women’s intuition when suddenly something moved just out of the range of his peripheral vision. He jerked his flashlight to the left and shone it down the darkness of an adjoining tunnel – Dreadnought was standing there, caught like potential roadkill in a car’s headlights. “Son of a bitch!” Max shouted, but Dreadnought’s whip-thin figure had already darted away. Yanking his Magnum from its holster, Max tore down the corridor after the creep. “Max – wait!” Blaze yelled, the sound of desperation in her voice. Max barely heard Blaze’s words and had no intention of stopping anyway. Blaze shouted again, this time sounding more controlled and authoritative. “He’s on the move! Axel – cover him!” No doubt Axel had his own gun drawn and was barrelling after Max even as Max lengthened his stride, determined to catch up with that skinny little Nazi zombie. Max hoped Axel had the sense to watch for the bobbing flashlight beam when he came to the intersection of tunnels that Max was passing now. The ex-cop already sounded significantly far away in this labyrinth of abandoned sewer tunnels… Back in the shower room, a speechless Adam turned to look at his younger brother, who had a look of stunned fear on his face. “What now, Blaze?” Skate was saying. She didn’t answer. Adam blinked, then turned his face toward Blaze, who was breathing heavily, sweating profusely… looking strained, the way she always did when her aura was flaring up, almost beyond control. Then, a glob of drool smacked against his head. He shook it off, then glared up at the ceiling. Wouldn’t you know it – there, clinging to the side of a metal duct like a titanic leech, was Zamza, preparing to strike. “Oh, shit…” was all Adam could say. Zamza’s answer was a leap, but Adam was ready for it. He moved with the creature as it came down, then shifted his own weight to the side, steering the thing’s body toward the open shaft a few feet away. Zamza howled as he went over the edge, and Adam was almost rid of him. Almost. If it hadn’t been for Zamza’s damned claws. He felt the creature’s clawed hand attach itself to his trouser leg as it fell, and there was no time for him to free himself before Zamza dragged him into the black abyss with him. “Noooo!” Adam howled, and he was gone, tumbling into the blackness. “Adam!” Skate shouted, racing to the edge. But he was too late. “Shit!” Then, behind him, Blaze was screaming. Her entire body was surrounded by blue flame, the flame of her aura. A terrifying moment later, she collapsed to the ground, unconscious. She landed face down on the mildewed tiles.

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Skate, his mind whirling, turned back, checking to see if she was okay. To his horror, when he turned her over, he found that she wasn’t breathing. Her pulse was erratic. “Oh, Jesus,” he muttered. “This can’t be happening! Blaze!” As Skate tried to resuscitate her, he began to wonder if they would all get out of this place alive.

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IX

It was a long, long way down. And painful – yeah, that too. Clinging to each other more than fighting, Adam and Zamza crashed through wiring, bounced against ducts, and slammed into pipes. Through his fragmented vision, Adam saw light and hoped it was the end of the fall, but no such luck. They slid a few more excruciating feet, then tumbled into yet another downward passageway. This one was filled with dripping water pipes and jutting, bone-bruising, steel I-beams; they ricocheted through, hitting side to side, before finally dropping onto a flat surface of mesh-filled insulation – the ceiling to something below. Too light to hold their combined weight, it promptly collapsed. They fell heavily – - right into a subway station crowded with people. Of course they came down fighting, and they landed right on top of the token booth. The steel gave way and glass and coins exploded outward, shrapneling the unfortunate people nearby. Amid the screaming and the fleeing people, one man, braver than the others, hurried forward and began grabbing at the money scattered on the ground. The crowd gaped as the dust settled and they saw the two figures pounding on each other on the platform floor. Zamza reared back and punched Adam, putting all of his weight into the blow and sending Adam flying backward into a turnstile. There was a crack of bone and Adam cried out, blood spluttering from his mouth. Zamza jumped at him, bringing down the claws on his right hand on his descent. Adam rolled out of the way as Zamza jabbed downward with them, ramming them into the floor. He tried again, missed again, this time managing to embed the claws firmly into the side of a concrete column. Adam hauled himself to his feet, cursing through pain, but before he could go after his opponent, Zamza gave him a tooth-filled grin and yanked viciously on the column. Adam registered the groan of stressed metal, then part of the office mezzanine level above him gave way. People ran in every direction, trying to get away from the falling debris – chunks of concrete, steel cables, office furniture, file boxes of papers, and more. The noise escalated to panicked shrieks as Zamza shook the last of the concrete from his claws then took a purposeful step toward a clump of people trapped and cut off from the exit. He spread his vein-riddled arms wide and roared at them, getting ready for the slaughter. Blam! Blam! Blam! Zamza jerked around as a series of Magnum rounds blasted into the flesh of his back. Adam stood there, covered in dust, a real pissed-off look on his face, holding the smoking gun. Then suddenly Adam was running towards him, launching a powerful roundhouse kick at his head. “Weeeeyyyaaaaa!” Adam roared, and hit him again, using his fists, beginning to beat on Zamza in earnest. He swung again, but this time Zamza was ready; he

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blocked it and ducked underneath. Adam tried to pull back but wasn’t quick enough to avoid Zamza’s hard body uppercut. The blow was powerful enough to send him soaring, right up and through the plate-glass window of the second-level mezzanine above them. The people who’d been crowding up to the window and staring down now scrambled backward, their eyes wide, shock etched on their faces as they realised they weren’t out of harm’s way. Adam skidded past the office workers, leaving a trail of blood across the floor, and crashed into a backlit subway advertisement. Sparks flew. He coughed blood. “F…FF…Fuck…!” Adam had just about enough time to shake the stars from his head when Zamza climbed onto the mezzanine with him. Ignoring the pain and the blood dribbling from his mouth and from the glass pieces lodged all over his back, Adam pushed to his feet. Zamza went into a bizarre spin-attack, launching himself at Adam, and Adam lunged to one side, just before Zamza pulverised the floor where he had just lay. Then Zamza extended his claws and slashed at him, wildly enough to scatter the few foolish onlookers still remaining. Adam retaliated with a series of punches and kicks, but his attacks seemed to be causing little visible damage to the inhuman brute that seemed so intent on his destruction. As the seconds passed and he began to tire, Adam realised that this creature was simply too strong: he would need to use his wits as well as his fists if he had any hope of defeating it… There! The window! Adam roared at the top of his lungs, then with a strength born of terror more than anything else he managed to push Zamza forward, hurling him through the heavy glass that separated the mezzanine from the subway tracks below. The glass shattered and the creature went through. Adam landed heavily on one side as the move jerked him off his feet. Yes! Hoping against hope that his idea would pay off, he grunted and pulled himself across the floor to peer out over the jagged edges of the window. Sweat squeezed out of his skin, mixing with the blood dripping from his forehead, nose and mouth, stinging his eyes and the cuts patterned down his cheeks. Then, just as he’d predicted, it happened. Hurtling around the curve below, a speeding subway train smashed violently into Zamza’s helpless body as it roared past. Blood sprayed. A moment later, Zamza’s motionless corpse was sprawled at the side of the tracks… well, except for the other pieces and parts of him that had caught the more unyielding front of the train. What remained of those were on the tunnel walls on either side of the tracks, sliding down the rounded surfaces in slow, nasty blobs. “I hope that hurt,” Adam grunted.

*** Well, so much for his mental crack about hoping Axel would be able to use common sense in tracking him. Max stopped and turned first one way, then the other, trying to reorient himself. He had no idea where he was and he’d lost Dreadnought in the constant twisting and turning of these empty, useless tunnels. Every one of these corridors looked the same – dirty, dark, and full of mould and old litter. The place was like an

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underground tomb, silent except for the occasional dripping of disused pipes and the faint squealing of rodents. Since he couldn’t do anything visually, Max raised his chin and sniffed the air, catching a faint whiff of… something. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was picking up here, but the scent wasn’t good. He turned right, following his nose, and found himself facing yet another open portal; when he stepped through, it was like he was walking into the storage room of a nightmare concentration camp. Duct work crisscrossed the area overhead, leaving gaps of black shadows between the jumble of metal and pipes, making the ceiling too far away to see. For some strange reason, gas masks lined the bottom of metal tubs, interspersed with more masks made of leather. Some were old, some were new. There must have been half a hundred hanging from hooks everywhere; worse were the old, curling photographs of children tacked on the walls beneath the masks – the small, innocent faces staring at him from every direction with haunted eyes, giving him the willies. “What the hell…?” he breathed. Moving cautiously, Max went deeper into the room, moving around the disused furniture and side-stepping an open service shaft until he reached the small, battered table in the middle. On it was an engraved plaque, and when he shone his flashlight over it, Max could just read the faint words written in German: “Colonel Dreadnought – for services to the Third Reich.” Under his breath, he muttered, “Where are you, you twisted son of a bitch?”

***

Axel was utterly lost. He turned in the nearly complete darkness, shining his flashlight beam all around him. He could go for his locator belt, but did he really want to admit that the only reason he’d flipped the panic button was because he’d lost his sense of direction down here? That he’d lost track of Max? Yeah, some elite Firestorm agent he’d look like then. He’d never hear the end of it. No, it was better to keep his trap shut and find his own way out, but man, when they got back to Firestorm HQ, he was going to ream Max out good and proper. Max knew he wasn’t supposed to just take off like that, especially when they were in someplace like this maze. They could be a block apart, or a mile – there was just no way to tell. And the two-way radio? There was no way it would work down here; as if having concrete walls between everyone wasn’t bad enough, the metal reinforcing rods placed in most of them would probably foul up any signal, acting as signal blockers rather than conductors… “Where am I?” Axel muttered to himself out loud, growing frustrated. The sound echoed closely around the tunnel and came back, but brought no reply with it. He sighed, and shone his flashlight one way, then the other. There was a fork in the tunnel here, and he had a choice of five different directions to head in. Shaking his head resignedly, he picked one at random and continued walking. Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, Skate’s voice sputtered through the radio’s speakers. “Who’s there? Axel? Come in – someone! Blaze needs help!” At the sound of Skate’s urgent voice, Axel instinctively lowered his hands and grabbed for the radio, bringing it to his mouth. Blaze was in trouble? If anything bad

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had happened to her, he’d never forgive himself… “Axel here. What’s wrong, Skate? Over.” With his attention focused on the radio, Axel didn’t see Dreadnought as the zombie Nazi let go of an overhead pipe and dropped lightly to the ground behind him. There was a snick as he unsheathed one of the short swords he always seemed to have secreted somewhere on his wire-thin body. Such a tiny sound, and yet something in Axel Stone’s senses registered it; he yanked his gun out, turned, and fired just as Dreadnought leaped forward, blade extended. The flash from the gun’s dark muzzle glimmered on the silver edge of Dreadnought’s blade right before it sunk into Axel’s body. It seemed to take twice as long for Dreadnought to pull the blade out of his flesh. The radio squawked again, this time more loudly – Skate had obviously heard the sound of gunfire. Axel had gotten off at least three shots, but incredibly, Dreadnought was still standing. At least he’d retreated a few feet away, and taken that damned sword with him. Something wet tickled beneath his nose and Axel reached up to wipe it away, trying foggily to decide what to do next; his arm felt as heavy as a log, hard to lift, and when he ran his fingers across the cleft between his upper lip and his nose, it came away smeared heavily with blood. “Oh… my… God…” Axel didn’t feel it when he toppled over.

Dreadnought tilted his head and watched dispassionately as the vigilante fell. The blond-haired man landed heavily at his feet, moaning incoherently, losing consciousness. Blood was seeping rapidly from his stab wound, quickly forming a large red puddle on the tunnel floor. “You disappoint me,” Dreadnought rasped, the electronic tone of his voice echoing loudly in the confined space of the tunnel, the sound eerie and menacing. “I had expected so much more from Firestorm… this infamous group responsible for the downfall of the Syndicate, the deaths of Mr. X and Leon Shiva… Your reputation precedes you. I had expected a team of powerful warriors… instead, I find blundering fools...” Axel moaned, unable to do much more than turn his head slightly. He tried to speak, but the sound was more of a liquid gurgle. Dreadnought shook his head, readying the blood-soaked blade for one more, fatal strike. He withdrew a second sword then and twirled it in his other hand, bringing both blades down toward Axel, taking his time, preparing to make the kill clean and efficient, to savour the moment. “How pathetic,” he muttered. “And to think that at one point, I actually considered Firestorm a threat to my operation. If all your agents are as weak and as stupid as you, there is absolutely no chance of you even bringing a hindrance to my Rakushin bombing campaign.” He laughed then, as his thoughts turned to the diversionary tactics he’d already set into motion, the bait that the other members of Firestorm were sure to take. “The first stage of the campaign is already well underway. Thanks to the foolishness of your team, the Rakushin Diffusion Engine we were able to reclaim from the museum in New York is ready for its first aerial deployment. And even as we speak, my second-in-command, Silver McLeod, is preparing to take a shipment of weapons-grade Laxine from our people at Harakiri Industries. Everything is coming together now. Within days, we will have dozens of Rakushin warheads ready to fly out to the United States.” He chuckled, the tone of his

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voice growing darker. “We will utterly lay waste to one of your precious fifty states. One by one, the United States will fall. There is nothing that you, or anyone else for that matter, can do about it.” He raised the swords… “I wouldn’t be so sure about that!” Max Hatchett’s voice roared out from the shadows, startling Dreadnought. Dreadnought turned, his skeletal, mask-covered head swivelling as he tried to pinpoint the location of the noise in the narrow tunnel. Then he saw the six-foot muscle man standing not twenty feet away at a fork in the corridor, covered in sweat, his weapon raised, ready to fire. “Leave Axel alone, you Nazi piece of shit,” Max was saying. A blur of motion, and Dreadnought launched himself silently at Max, impossibly fast. Max jerked at the sound of blades slicing through the air. He tried to dodge, but didn’t make it in time; he cried out as one of Dreadnought’s short swords ripped deeply into the meat of his arm. Max staggered backward as blood swelled from the wound and he automatically clutched at it, too shocked to try to block Dreadnought’s next strike. The skeletal man went in for the kill – But Max thrust his good fist directly into Dreadnought’s throat, knocking the sword wild. Sparks danced off the edge of the sword as it scraped against the tunnel wall. Max continued driving forward with his fists, forcing Dreadnought backward. There was no way to tell what was going on behind Dreadnought’s mask, but finally the Nazi-zombie tossed the short swords aside in frustration, then unsheathed the longer, more vicious-looking one strapped at his waist. “Screw that!” Max snapped. As fast as Dreadnought was, he didn’t get the sword out of range before Max reached out and yanked it from his grip. Snarling, Max brought it up and bent it until it snapped, then flung the pieces away. Dreadnought started to backpedal and Max hit him brutally, right in the centre of the man’s leather-and-steel mask. The metal crumpled and the two lenses covering Dreadnought’s eyes disintegrated into starred glass. Max punched him again, and the remains of the mask went flying, revealing Dreadnought’s hideously scarred face. “Christ Almighty,” Max hissed, recoiling in horror. Incredibly, Dreadnought erupted into laughter. The sound was like a series of asthmatic wheezes, short, sharp and completely unexpected. Then he flipped forward and delivered a powerful kick directly to Max’s stomach. It wouldn’t have hurt so much if there wasn’t a series of jagged, rusted spikes on the soles of Dreadnought’s boots. Max roared in pain and doubled over. It only took him a second to recover from the blow, but a second was all it took for Dreadnought to turn his spider-like body and run off, disappearing down the tunnel, his insane laughter echoing in the dark, claustrophobic space. Damn! thought Max. This guy moves like a cockroach! He stared after the fleeing freak for a moment, his teeth clenched, fuming with rage, then he blinked, and looked down at Axel, covered in blood as he was. The fight with Dreadnought would have to continue at another time – Axel needed urgent medical attention, and soon. Taking a deep breath, Max bent down and lifted Axel’s body into his considerable arms, hoping against hope that the man’s injuries weren’t as bad as they looked. He swallowed dryly, and began to carry his friend back to where he only hoped the others would still be waiting…

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***

“Breathe, dammit!” Eddie “Skate” Hunter licked his lips, and wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his right hand. His heart was pounding, but he tried his best to maintain composure and stay calm, as he started the resuscitation process again. “Come on, Blaze. Breathe!” Using both hands he pumped down forcefully on her chest, forcing the air from her lungs, then bent closer to her, tilting back her head and squeezing her nostrils together, blowing as much air as he could into her open mouth. Becoming desperate, he put his ear to her lips, trying to determine if she was breathing on her own yet. Still nothing. He cried out in frustration, tears beginning to form in his eyes and roll down his cheeks. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, Blaze was simply refusing to breathe on her own, and was slipping closer and closer into a comatose state, nearing death. It had been almost fifteen minutes since her lungs had stopped, and Skate was getting tired of repeating the kiss-of-life process so many times; it was physically and mentally draining him. He would not give up, however – there was no way in hell that he was just going to let Blaze die. He would keep trying, no matter how long it took. Where are the others? he thought, desperate for their help. He’d tried to call Axel on the radio, only to get a bunch of gunfire and static back, then nothing. Adam and Max’s radios weren’t even responding. Skate couldn’t think of a single time in his entire life when he’d felt more alone. “Come on,” he repeated. “Breathe!” Once again he put his hands on Blaze’s chest, unable to shake an uncomfortable feeling of guilt, like he was violating her somehow with his touch, even though she was fully clothed and there was nothing sexual about this situation whatsoever. He sighed and began pressing the air out of her lungs again, bending to her mouth, breathing for her… In a shock instant, Blaze’s eyes snapped open, and there was a whine of air as her lungs jolted back into operation. She gasped, and stared at Skate as though she’d never seen him before. “Hey…” Skate started, and smiled, but the next thing he knew he was sailing backwards through the air, as if thrown by a powerful, unseen force, hitting the far wall, his back slamming against it, cracking the mouldy, wet tiles with the impact. Then, instead of falling to the ground in a heap as he expected, he remained pinned to the wall, kept there by what felt like invisible hands gripping his throat, throttling him slowly. It had all happened within the space of about two seconds, and now Skate was disorientated, clutching at his throat with his hands, trying to fend off whatever it was attacking him. A moment later, after a couple of deeper breaths, he realised that it was in fact Blaze that was attacking him. He focused his eyes on her, down below, on the ground, to see that she was standing up straight now on both legs, one arm raised in a defiant gesture toward him. It was then that he saw her eyes – glowing with an unnatural light, and he realised that she was possessed of her aura – that bizarre, homo superior alter-ego that she had so desperately been struggling to keep under conscious control

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over the past few days, since that incident in the hotel. Now, it would seem, the aura had finally gotten the better of her… “Blaze!” Skate croaked, his mind whirling with emotion. One part of him was glad she was okay, and another part of him resented her for immediately launching into an unprovoked attack – what had he done wrong? And somewhere in there, a small part of him was struggling to comprehend her awesome mastery of psychokinesis, the ability to control gravity and alter objects in space with just the power of her mind? How…? Blaze flexed the fingers on her outstretched hand, strengthening her hold on Skate. He was still dangling in midair, beginning to choke, and as he hovered there he realised, ironically, that he had traded places with her; now he was the one who couldn’t breathe. The situation, of course, was somewhat different. Why was she doing this? “It’s me! Skate!” he cried, his face contorted and turning purple from the pressure. Blaze, though, was far beyond being reasoned with – the glare in her eyes was enough to convince him of that. Just when he thought he was done for, a familiar voice called from the shadows: “Hey Blaze! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Blaze relinquished her hold on Skate and he collapsed heavily to the ground, landing on his butt, relatively unharmed. She turned her head, and saw Max Hatchett standing here, holding the unconscious body of Axel Stone over his shoulders. “Blaze!” Max said again. “What’s going on here? Axel needs a hospital – and fast – he’s dying…” Something in Max’s voice must have gotten through to Blaze, because suddenly she blinked several times, and the inhuman glare slowly vanished from her eyes, leaving her normal, brown-eyed visage. She gasped, and stumbled back, clutching her head. “Oooooh,” she moaned. “What the hell happened?” Then her gaze darted toward Max, and Axel… “Axel!” she screamed, and ran towards the man’s slumped form. He was covered in blood, pale as a sheet and shaking. “He’s d…d…dying?” Wincing, Skate muttered sarcastically, “I’m fine, thanks.” His back hurt like a bitch, and he had one hell of a headache, but he was otherwise okay. Right now, he was feeling a little confused and pissed off about Blaze’s unexplained outburst. Did she even realise what she had just done? “Axel needs a hospital, now,” Max said. “There will be plenty of time for questions later. We need immediate evac.” He glanced at Skate. “Where’s Adam?” Skate swallowed dryly. He had no idea. “That creature… Zamza… took him down that hole more than a quarter hour ago. I have no idea where he is now. I haven’t heard from him since, and there’s no response from him on the radio.” Max nodded, frowning. “He probably needs our help. Damn, this is a complete disaster. Blaze, are you okay? It looked like you went into some kind of homo superior trance back there…” She shook her head. A single tear ran down one cheek. “I don’t know. I… I lost control there for a while. I…” She looked at Skate, blushing. “I’m sorry Eddie. I didn’t mean to…” He grimaced. “Forget it. I’m just glad you’re okay. I happen to have saved your life back there.” Max started toward the hole he’d made in the wall, intent on carrying Axel all the way to safety. “Right, but now we need to save Axel’s life. We don’t have much

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time – he’s lost a lot of blood already. Be alert, because that Dreadnought bastard is still around here somewhere.” Blaze followed Max, not saying anything, not asking any questions, not really able to. So much had happened to her in such a short space of time that it was difficult to get her head around the situation… she felt exhausted, confused, and somehow, defeated. To make matters worse, Axel was badly injured. She was glad that Max seemed to be on top of the situation; he seemed to know what was going on and had taken the initiative. She trusted him to do the right thing here. “We need to debrief the team as soon as possible,” Max was saying. “I have new information, new intelligence that will prove vital to our mission here in the days ahead…” “What about Adam?” Skate asked. “We can’t just leave him behind. What if he’s in trouble…?” “You’re absolutely right,” Max told him, looking back. “But since we have no idea where he is right now, there isn’t much we can do for him. We need to regroup. Don’t worry, I’ll have Murphy’s team searching for him day and night if they have to. Besides, Adam can handle himself, he’s a tough guy. I’m sure he’s just fine.” Skate shook his head doubtfully. Did Firestorm really have what it took to do this kind of thing on a daily basis? The question was rhetorical, of course. He followed in silence.

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X

January 4th At 07.30 the next morning, Max Hatchett called Agent Murphy on the scrambled landline. There would be an important mission briefing in one hour, and the presence of him and the other members of his reinforcement team was required. It was a cold, overcast day – typical for early January in this part of Germany – and Robert Murphy made his way down Kurfürstendamm in the heart of Berlin with a sharp prickle of anticipation. Yesterday, his team had been contacted by Max in a dire emergency – Axel Stone had been seriously wounded by Dreadnought, and Firestorm had been compromised. Max needed Murphy and the reinforcement team to go in and locate Adam Hunter while the others evacuated the scene. After just two hours of searching, one of Murphy’s most trusted and accomplished junior agents, Candice Redd, had found Adam in one of the deeper subway stations, badly injured, having killed the bizarre mutant known as Zamza following a violent and bloody battle. He was lucky to be alive, and needed to be rushed straight to hospital. Now, both Adam and Axel were currently hospitalised, out of action, and it was down to Murphy and his motley team of FBI and Interpol Agents to help Firestorm with the next stage of their mission in Germany. With so little time to spare, Axel and Adam would have to sit this one out; from what Max had been telling Murphy on the phone, there simply wasn’t enough time to wait for them to recover from their injuries. It was unfortunate, but on the plus side, Murphy was looking forward to a little more frontline action. He arrived at the safehouse, an inconspicuous, detached bungalow in one of the city’s most prestigious neighbourhoods, to find most of the team had already assembled. Adam’s brother, Skate, was chatting heartedly with Candice Redd, while Blaze Fielding, looking somewhat subdued, was getting to know the other members of Murphy’s team: Quarry, Moss, Davison, McIntosh, and the Interpol guys – whom Murphy was only briefly acquainted with himself. This was, after all, their first real mission together as a team; he hadn’t yet had time to get to know them all properly after they were hand-picked by Interpol, and he certainly hadn’t anticipated taking them into the field so soon. They were, primarily, a reinforcement team, charged with providing Firestorm with emergency backup through heavy weapons – but since Axel Stone and Adam Hunter were indisposed, they now had to step up to the mark earlier than expected, for the good of the mission. Raising a quick hand in greeting to the others, Murphy buried himself behind his PDA and went through the motions of checking for incoming messages. FBI Headquarters had sent him a bunch of names and numbers for suppliers they could rely on in Germany, but other than that his inbox was empty. Max Hatchett arrived ten minutes later, murmured general greetings, and disappeared into the adjoining room with Blaze. He looked tired, strained and in no mood to suffer fools. “I’ve just been to the hospital,” Max told her. “Axel and Adam are going to be just fine. Two, three days, and they will back in fighting form.”

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Blaze nodded. “That’s good to know. It’s just a shame we can’t wait that long. Are you ready for the briefing?” “I’m ready,” Max said. “What about you? Are you gonna be okay to continue after what happened?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess so…” “Let’s just get started,” he said. “Time is not on our side.” Max emerged into the main hall and ushered the assembled company into the adjoining room. They moved slowly – most were carrying Styrofoam cups of hot tea or coffee. At the far end, trailing wires, a large, panoramic TV/DVD set stood on a wheeled stand. Max raised his hands for silence and the faint murmur evaporated. “Good morning, everyone. I hope I haven’t interrupted too many breakfasts.” Silence. A few taut smiles. He inserted a DVD into the player. “I’d like to lock down for this. No calls, no visitors, no interruptions. Blaze, when was the place last swept for bugs?” “An hour ago,” Blaze told him. “All clear.” Max nodded, and watched as she closed the soundproof door. “I’ll get straight to the point,” Max said. “As you’re aware, Firestorm did indeed encounter Dreadnought yesterday. It would seem Dr. Dahm’s information was genuine. The old tunnels we found apparently doubled as some kind of… personal hideout… for this war criminal. I was able to recover several items of interest from the scene, including this document, handwritten by Dreadnought himself, detailing the Shadow Alliance’s next move…” He thumbed a button on the remote control, and a document scan drooped onto the TV screen.

January 5, 2019. 0300 hrs Harakiri Industries Production Facility – Austro-German border – river Danube Major Laxine shipment – Silver McLeod to collect

Max swallowed dryly. “Harakiri Industries is one of the world’s largest independent producers of nuclear-generated material. They have massive resources at their disposal, and have been linked to the Syndicate’s operations during the Project Y incident. If they are providing the Shadow Alliance with weapons-grade Laxine, we could be in big trouble.” “I thought the enrichment of Laxine was illegal…” That was Candice Redd. Max nodded. “It is. But the simple issue of legality won’t stop these guys, I can assure you. Take a look at this photograph…” He thumbed the remote control again, and a full-colour image filled the screen. In the foreground was the familiar figure of Leon Shiva, canapé in hand, and a dark-haired woman in a black dress. Others were present too, Champagne flutes in hand, all dressed in black and gold. “This photograph is eight years old,” said Max. “It was taken at the Hotel de Paris in Monte Carlo. Now the man I want to draw your attention to,” he took a laserpointer from the table, “is this one.”

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The tiny arrow showed a smiling, Japanese figure in a black dinner jacket, black tie, and a decorative samurai headpiece standing in the group behind Shiva. Candice guessed him to be in his mid-forties. He looked tanned and prosperous, his hair expensively barbered. “His name,” said Max, “is Kazuyuki Harakiri. A powerful businessman in the world of nuclear fusion power. Owner and founder of the Harakiri Industries megacorp. Japanese in origin, place of birth, Hong Kong, 1964.” A series of photographs flashed across the screen in quick succession, mostly black-and-white spy images, of Harakiri pictured with some of the Syndicate’s most notorious bosses. “We have less than twenty-four hours before McLeod collects this ‘major’ Laxine shipment,” Max continued. “And from what Dreadnought was saying, it sounds like the Shadow Alliance intends to use that Rakusin to build Rakushin weapons, to use against the United States of America. It is vital that we intercept McLeod, cut off their supply lines, and put a stop to this operation.” Nods all around. Murphy licked his lips. “I can arrange the necessary equipment. The FBI has many friends in Europe. The German authorities have already agreed to provide us with two helicopters to transport the team across the river Danube.” “Are we talking a full-scale assault here, or a stealth mission?” That was Skate. “We’ll need to use stealth, at least at first,” Max told him. “Harakiri Industries employs its own private army, and I think it’s best if we avoid unnecessary bloodshed. We go in, do what needs to be done, then get out.” Skate nodded, and sighed heavily. “Something tells me it won’t be quite so easy…” “Final preparations will start immediately,” Max said, switching off the TV screen and folding his arms in a defensive posture. “Our equipment will be the usual essentials - I’m talking night-vision scopes, weapons, communications equipment, food, ammunition, surveillance gear – enough to carry out the mission and survive for a few days if need be. At midnight, we will fly across the river Danube and put down at the base of the mountain not far from the facility. After gearing up, we’ll ambush Silver McLeod. Let’s get busy, people. The clock is ticking.”

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XI

Austro-German Border January 5th 02:13am

The two Sikorsky S-76T helicopters were refuelled at a UN Airbase in Munich, and lifted off directly toward Austria, staying below radar. Now that they were actually ready and on the move, it had taken less than an hour to transport the team and their equipment across Germany to the river Danube, which now lurked somewhere below them in the blackness of the night. So far at least, the journey had been quiet and without incident. The remaining three members of Firestorm sat on narrow metal seats along the side of the lead helicopter’s main cabin, facing into the centreline. Blaze was sitting between Max and Skate, with Murphy sitting opposite with Candice, Quarry, and McIntosh. The rest of the reinforcement guys were travelling in the second helicopter, with the equipment stacked equally between the two craft, strapped down the middle between the two rows of seats. The pilots and navigator were on the flight deck, which was accessed through a hatch forward and up a few steps. Even with the side door shut, the noise in the confined space of the chopper was deafening. Control… Control… You must learn control. Blaze closed her eyes, focusing her thoughts, once again feeling the sensation of her aura swelling within her, growing larger and more powerful as she became increasingly anxious about the mission ahead. Without the guidance and expertise of Axel and Adam, she felt a lot more vulnerable here, even though she was surrounded by some of the best FBI and Interpol agents in the world. This would be the first time she had gone into action without her fiancé and his former LAPD partner, and it felt dangerous. As irrational as it was, she felt alone somehow. Not to mention that her confidence in herself and her own abilities had taken a considerable knock over the past few days. Back in Berlin’s underground tunnel system, she had failed to remain in control of her aura, and had actually passed out from its effects – then mindlessly attacked Skate once he had resuscitated her. She had almost killed him, and probably would have if not for the last-minute intervention of Max. She still didn’t know exactly what had happened back there; somehow, she had lost control of her whole personality, as if the aura itself had developed a mind of its own and was actually controlling her actions, like an evil spirit, some kind of “Dark Intent”. It was a very disturbing thought, and something that troubled her very much. Could it happen again? Blaze only hoped that she would be able to master control of her aura before it became too much of a problem, it was all she could do. But since the ‘memory wipe’

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procedure, it seemed like a losing battle. Increasingly she felt like more of a servant to its power, at times the sensation truly overwhelmed her in a way that proved too much for even Joe Musashi’s meditation techniques to overcome. Remember what happened at the hotel… dozens of lives lost… She swallowed hard, beginning to feel a surge in the aura sensation. She could perceive a strange light, a shimmering, pulsating light that enveloped her being. No, she thought. Please, not again. No, no, no… She felt hot, and began to sweat profusely as she tried to focus her mind, telling herself that she would control this thing, and that it would not affect the mission or the safety of the team. For the love of God, please… Despite her efforts, she felt intense physiological sensations, growing stronger with each passing moment - electrical tingling, full body vibration, and her heartbeat began to race. Growing confused, she suddenly realised that her limbs were beginning to penetrate the metal seat of the helicopter beneath her. Fuck! I could crash us! A sudden, intense flash of energy, and there was a loud bang overhead. A terrific concussion shook the helicopter and a shower of heavy impacts hammered the fuselage, as it yielded to the invisible forces exerted by Blaze. In the same instant the aircraft lost forward speed and lurched towards the sea. “Shit!” Blaze screamed. “What the hell?” she heard Skate roar. As the cabin tilted, she grabbed the straps holding her into her seat and braced her feet for a possible crash. The helicopter wallowed for a second or two, and for a moment she thought it was recovering and would balance itself out. But the next instant the fuselage dropped like a stone, so fast Blaze felt herself lifting out of her seat. “What’s happening?” Murphy roared. The helicopter hit the surface of the river Danube with a bone-jarring smash and rolled straight onto the starboard side, and the next thing Blaze knew she was hanging up in the air from her seat belt straps. Water surged violently into the cabin and in no time at all it was over their heads. My fault! My fault… Her mind racing, Blaze knew that speed would be vital in this situation. Helicopters all behaved the same way on a ditching: their engines were on top, so they turned over and sank like bricks. The only chance was to get out fast. The water was shockingly cold. It seemed to strike right through to her bones. She kicked her legs frantically, struggling to comprehend what was happening. In the space of just a few seconds she had managed to bring down the aircraft with just a stray thought. She had jeopardised the mission and the team, just as she had feared. Now, survival was paramount. They could all die quickly from hypothermia – if they didn’t drown like rats trapped in the sinking fuselage. A heavy weight was pressing against her arms and legs, pinning her against her seat. It had to be one of the packs of equipment – it must have rolled onto her side in the crash. She thrashed about in the darkness trying to work herself free and push it aside. It was sodden with water and weighed a ton, and for a moment it seemed impossible to budge. At last she broke free and swam upwards, trying to picture in her mind where the entrance hatch would be. With everything turned upside down and only a faint

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emergency light to guide her it was next to impossible to orient herself – and she was running out of air fast. Swimming was a huge effort. Her body felt heavy and clumsy in its waterlogged clothes. She didn’t want to inflate her life vest in case it pinned her up against the floor, unable to reach the hatch. Pain started in her chest and spread from her lungs to her head. She made herself ignore it as best she could, and concentrated on swimming towards the glow of the lamp. As she moved, she could sense the other members of the team blundering about in the water around her, and she tried to remember the lectures she had been given in the LAPD police academy about underwater survival. Now, she wished she had listened more intently. She could sense darkness closing in on her, a sure sign that her brain was suffering from acute oxygen deprivation. Without fresh oxygen in the blood her heart would begin to beat erratically and finally shut down – something she would prefer to avoid. As long as she could get through that hatch and not get dragged down to the riverbed by four tons of sinking aircraft, she had a good chance of surviving this. Trying to ignore the dark mist closing in on the edges of her consciousness she flailed on, all the time feeling the pressure in her ears growing, as the fuselage sank deeper and deeper. A minute was a long time down in the darkness without air. And it must have been all of a minute before Blaze’s hands first felt the edge of the hatchway. By now she was completely disorientated; she had no idea which way up the aircraft was. It might have been sinking on its back, or it might have tumbled in the water and now be plunging nose first. On her first attempt to pull herself through she got a kick in the face from someone else who had made it out and was striking for the surface. Strangely enough, this gave her confidence; if that person could do it then so could she. She was entering a strange, dreamy state of accepting what was happening to her. Somewhere in her head she knew this was another of the symptoms of oxygen deprivation, but it didn’t seem important. She pulled herself through the hatch and saw a patch of light overhead. Now she remembered her life vest again, and she gave the tag a pull and began to float upwards. She wasn’t going to fight anymore. She was simply going to let herself be drawn toward the light. She stopped with a jerk. Something was pulling her back, holding her down. She realised it was her leg; her left boot was caught in the slide of the door. Desperately she twisted and tugged, struggling to free herself, but her strength was ebbing away. She tried to work her foot out of the boot, but it was laced up too tight. Stupid, she told herself. Stupid to lose your life because of a damn boot… If this was dying, she thought, it’s not as hard as she imagined it would be. All she had to do was stop struggling and let it take over. It was simple, really. And just as she decided to give herself up, she felt another hand on her leg. Someone else was coming through the hatch after her and realised what had happened. It was Max – his hand reached down, caught a hold of her foot and jerked it round, and she felt herself float free. The buoyancy of her life vest took over, and rushed her up towards the light. Her head broke the surface suddenly, and with it the instinct for survival reasserted itself. She dragged in deep breaths. Nothing in her life had ever felt so good. The darkness cleared from her brain. She could make out the shore in the distance. It looked to her eyes like half a mile away, but perhaps in reality it was only a few hundred yards. The water was quite rough, but her life vest was supporting her.

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She looked around for the others, especially for Max who had saved her life down there. She could see heads bobbing among the waves, but it was too dark to make out faces. She was worried about Max, and Skate – surely they would have made it. She had gotten so used to thinking of them as indestructible. There was a noise overhead and a searchlight beam cut through the night, dazzling her eyes. The second helicopter! It had turned about and was now hovering in the air overhead, plucking the flailing survivors from the river. The winchman must have missed her in the waves because he shifted the beam and she saw him drop into the water a dozen yards away and return with a dripping figure. Blaze pulled her knees up to her chest to conserve body warmth and checked the beacon on her life vest was still showing. She didn’t want them to miss her. By the time her turn came she was so numb she could hardly think straight. They winched her up into the helicopter and someone wrapped her in a thermal blanket. It wasn’t until they landed on the shore at the other side of the river that Blaze had recovered enough to take in what was happening. She became aware of Max and Skate, standing over her asking if she was okay. They told her they were two men down. They were lucky that their chopper’s tail had broken off on impact, freeing everyone in the rear. They had no idea what caused the crash. The two dead men must have been unable to free themselves. One of them was the pilot, the other was agent Quarry. As soon as she heard this news, her heart sank. Not more deaths on my conscience… More blood on my hands… …when will this end? She didn’t say anything. She felt if she mentioned the crash was her own fault right now, somebody would go off the rails. She decided to keep it quiet, at least for now. She simply nodded, avoiding eye contact. As soon as the team had regrouped and kitted themselves out with the limited amount of gear that had survived the trip, they gathered on the grassy field nearby. Max Hatchett stood at the front of the group and spoke briefly. This had been a bad start but the mission had to go ahead regardless. It was not an option for them to just quit now. Nevertheless, anyone who wanted to pull out could do so. There were no takers. Blaze glanced at Max and his face was expressionless. Deep down, she could sense that he knew it was her fault; he knew she had caused the crash and killed those two men… but he was keeping quiet about it. He knew she couldn’t help it, that she hadn’t acted intentionally. Despite what had happened, he would go on doing what he could to look after her. He was a stubborn bastard, and he was a good friend. “Let’s move,” he said. Blaze couldn’t stop thinking about agent Quarry, the pilot, and what the families of those dead men would have to go through now, thanks to her.

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XII

Max had reached his firing position, a small rise beneath a stand of firs, within twelve minutes of separating from the others. It was now 02:54am. Carefully, aware that the area might easily be under night-sight observation, he had manoeuvred into place, concealing himself beneath the spreading branches and covering his body with cam-netting and foliage. Soon he was satisfied that, to all intents and purposes, he was invisible. He was in a comfortable firing position, or as comfortable as he could expect to be given the situation, and his weapon – a Heckler and Koch 53 sniper’s rifle loaded with ten 7.62 armour-piercing rounds – was readied for action on its bipod. The HK’s night sight had been zeroed for 120 yards, and the sight’s miniature generator was emitting its faint characteristic whistle. It was a very cold night – the ground had stiffened with frost – but the adrenaline racing around Max’s system anaesthetised him to the cold, to the icy flint of the ground, to everything except his own intense concentration. Through the night sight all he saw was an undersea green. The production facility, a large, discoloured building with a ferrofoam and steel roof, was about 120 metres in front of him. Amplified green light bled through the windows; their edges blazed with it, as did the gap beneath the main door, which gave on to a flight of steps and a stone-flagged yard area. As Max watched, a fox slunk into the yard, nosed cautiously at the dustbins, climbed the nearby perimeter wall and looked around him. Then it turned and dashed out of sight, disappearing between two processing plants. Good luck to you, brother, Max thought absently. Through a throat-mike and earpiece, Max was in communication with the other members of the team, now silently readying themselves. As the acting team leader he had the position covering the most probable target zone; the other snipers were invisibly disposed around the area as backup. Like him they were taut-wired with adrenaline. Like him they felt no cold, saw the night as green day. He only hoped that Blaze Fielding could hold herself together, at least long enough for them to complete the mission here successfully. She was fast becoming a liability with her… difficulties. There will be one more death tonight, thought Max, and I have never felt more alive… Soon he could hear a car. And see it. A muddy Toyota hatchback, showing sidelights only, swinging carefully up the track. “Vehicle approaching,” murmured Max into his throat-mike. It disappeared for a moment behind a rough coppice and was suddenly there in the yard, its sidelights two blinding swirls in the ghost-green landscape. The car came to a greasy, shuddering stop and was still for a moment. The driver stayed at the wheel, and a second figure wearing a heavy trenchcoat – looked like military surplus, thought Max – ducked from the Toyota. “Target exiting vehicle.” It was Silver McLeod. The greatcoated figure hurried to the facility’s main entrance. As he got there he pulled a mobile telephone from his pocket, thumbed it briefly, and seemed to

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mouth a single word. The door opened – a blare of green-white light, swiftly extinguished – and he was inside. Get ready to die, motherfucker, thought Max, his heart thumping hard at his ribs. Get ready to die. “Target entering factory. Main door.” For ten minutes nothing happened. The driver lit a cigarette, smoked it, flipped the smoking butt from the car, waited. Then the door opened, and the greatcoated figure exited, his breath smoking, his shoulders hunched against the cold. He was carrying a large hazardous-materials case. “Target in view. He has the Laxine.” Gently exhaling, Max aimed the inverted black V of the sight above McLeod’s shoulders. Took up the play in the trigger. Inhaled. The inverted V met the perpendicular crossbar just forward of McLeod’s ear. Exhale to stillness. Squeeze. Muzzle-flash. The lower half of the pale green face vaporised into black spray. The noise of the shot split the night, punching the compound plastic stock of the HK against Max’s shoulder and cheek, dropping the target like rubbish to the ground. “Contact. Target down.” Max was already halfway to the fallen man. Reaching him he whipped the HK to his shoulder to deliver the killing shot but at the last moment held his fire. The target was alive, although he no longer had a jaw, or a mouth, or indeed a lower half to his face. He still had his eyes, however, and the eyes were the terrified, uncomprehending eyes of a child. With stark horror, Max suddenly realised that this man was not Silver McLeod… From 150 yards away, as Max froze in horror, Skate delivered the final shot. It was a flawless display of shooting, and the fallen man – now almost headless – jerked spasmodically as his nervous system arrested. Both Skate and Blaze were running through the darkness to join Max now, and just before they were at his heels he swung the HK towards the car, his hands slippery with brain-spray, where the driver was reaching for an M16 on the passenger side. Another pull of the HK’s trigger, and the car windscreen spidered, the driver slumping dead across the steering wheel. The yard flooded with the noise of boots stomping as Murphy and the rest of the team closed in. “This isn’t McLeod,” Blaze frowned, staring down at the dead, virtually headless body. A long stain of blood covered the ground around the fallen figure, and beyond him a sprayed and scattered mess of tissue, bone fragments and teeth. “No, it isn’t,” Max said. “But a very close lookalike, I have to say. I think we’ve been tricked.” “What’s going on, guys?” Murphy asked, out of breath. His team approached from behind him and looked on. Skate knelt closer to the body, and prised the large container from the dead man’s hands. “This hazardous materials box is a fake too,” he observed. “Look – it’s made of plastic. And it weighs next to nothing.” Blaze swallowed dryly. “So what’s inside?” She took the container from him, examined the exterior briefly, fearing the worst. Then she opened it up, and instead of seeing a collection of enriched Laxine capsules as they were expecting, there was instead a small, antique cassette recorder, loaded with an audio cassette. A handwritten label taped to the side read simply,

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PLAY ME

“Shit,” was all Max could say. “We’ve been set up.” Blaze licked her lips, and pressed ‘Play’ on the machine. After a moment of static, Dreadnought’s voice came through loud and clear, his raspy, electronic tone sounding vicious, yet amused. “Hello Firestorm. If you’re hearing this, it means you are more stupid than I had first believed, my plan has succeeded, and you took the bait I so insidiously left for you at my underground retreat. Do you think I would really leave such sensitive plans lying around like that? I apologise for my deception but it was necessary to take steps to protect my plans. Thanks to your continued foolishness, Silver McLeod can now pick up the real Laxine supply without any threat of intervention by your meddlesome forces. Rest assured, that by the time you hear this message, the real pickup will long have been made, and the goods safely returned to our secret headquarters, converted to Rakushin, ready for our first aerial deployment. You will be far, far too late to do anything to stop me.” There was a long, guttural laugh. “Goodbye, Firestorm. I wish I could say it has been a pleasure.” The tape stopped. “Motherfucker!” Skate roared. “So we’ve just wasted our time?” Blaze couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “So those guys on the helicopter, and these men here… died for nothing?” Max had a sour expression on his face. They’d been well and truly had. He opened his mouth to speak, when suddenly he heard the sound he dreaded. “Attack helicopters!” he shouted. “Everybody down! It’s a trap!” He grabbed Blaze and Skate and hurled them bodily to the ground. “Oh, great…” Skate moaned. The noise of Apache engines swelled and grew louder and nearer, coming directly for them. It was plain that these people had known they were coming, and now they were going to have to make a fight for it. Their heavy weapons had been lost on the downed chopper but they still had their personal weapons. Rolling over, Max raised his HK. A burst of automatic fire crackled overhead. Bullets zipped and pinged all around their position. More guns opened up from the flanks. The fire was coming from both sides and ahead. From behind the tops of the buildings and from the flanks to either side the helmeted heads of combat troops were aiming heavy calibre weapons at them. “It’s Harakiri’s private army!” Murphy shouted, but the sound of his voice was lost in the barrage of weapons fire. Max estimated a company of infantry with light automatic weapons, firing from fifty to a hundred metres’ range. Now the helicopters were sweeping in beneath the overcast, stooping low for the kill. A machine-gun mounted in the side hatch of the lead aircraft winked at them like a red eye, and more bullets thudded into the ground nearby. The troops must have been lying in wait on the other side of the hill. They had called in the air power the moment they saw them find the tape recording. They had walked straight into a cleverly-designed ambush. “Pull back!” Max shouted, but before the team could move, from the direction of the road came a rumble of diesel engines. A troop of infantry fighting vehicles had broken cover and was closing in, the muzzles of their cannons swivelling toward the

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panicked group. Any moment now they would have 30mm shells bursting around their ears. A patch of gorse burst into flames as incendiary bullets zipped through. The team was pinned down and surrounded, under attack from air and ground. Candice Redd was carrying a rocket launcher, a 94mm anti-tank missile in a single-shot tube capable of taking out a main battle tank at 500 metres. Ignoring the bullets whipping past, she ripped the launcher off her back, snapped the tube out to its full extent and crouched, aiming at the nearest IFV. A huge smoke plume belched from the rear of the tube and there was a swoosh as the missile ignited. The rocket scorched across the ground, arrowing towards the lead vehicle. It impacted against the offside track near the front with a boom that echoed across the clearing. The vehicle swung round and stopped, rocking on its tracks, smoke pouring from its engine compartment. The turrets of the other two machines barked angrily. Shells smacked into the earth among them, exploding with showers of dirt. Somebody went down. Splinters of steel sang viciously overhead and the air was filled with the stench of cordite. “Fucking great shot!” Blaze yelled at Candice. But next moment there was an ominous double thud and the whine of 81mm mortar bombs descending. More explosions fountained up as bombs and shells searched the hillside. Max’s team had only shot off one missile, and the enemy had them at their mercy. They could sit back and blast them to pieces at their leisure. There was nothing that Max, or anyone else on the team, could do about it. It was over. They had fallen into the hands of the enemy.

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XIII

The shelling stopped. The machine-gun fire slackened off. A man’s voice crackled over a loud-hailer. “Firestorm. Put down your guns and raise your hands. If you attempt to escape you will be shot.” The team was looking at Max for guidance. “Fuck them. Let’s make a run for it,” Skate growled. “Some of us should make it.” Max looked around. The team had scattered; one of the Interpol guys was dead, his head blown clean off, while some of the others were injured, lying shaking on the ground. For the most part, everybody else was unhurt. The armoured vehicle had paused on the track leading down from the road, and squads of infantry were dismounting to move across country and surround them from the rear. The helicopters were beating the air overhead. “No,” he told Skate. “Sorry, but it’s a bust.” “Fuck them!” Skate snarled. “We didn’t defeat the New Syndicate only to surrender to the fucking Shadow Alliance!” He jumped up, clutching a C-5, and instantly a machine-gun opened up from one of the vehicles, sending a stream of tracer winging towards him. The rounds, clearly visible, seemed to start slowly then speed up with a sudden rush as they got closer. The stream of bullets reached Skate, there was a horrific smacking sound, and he was knocked flying off his feet and onto his back. He lay there, seemingly stunned. “Skate!” Max shouted, and crawled over to him, keeping his head against the ground as more rounds went screaming overhead like angry wasps. There was blood on Skate’s hands and face but Max couldn’t see exactly where he had been hit. He ripped open the young man’s jacket to check for chest wounds, but to his surprise, couldn’t see any. His weapon was lying nearby, almost split in two across the middle. It looked as though Skate’s gun had taken the main impact. The voice with the loud-hailer was shouting something else about resistance being futile. Max was in agreement with him. Blaze crawled over as Skate gave a grunt and stirred. “How bad is he?” “Okay by the looks of him,” Max replied. “He was fucking lucky. These guys aren’t messing around. If we give them any trouble they’ll let us have it.” “Looks like we’re in the shit then.” “Looks that way,” Max said. “Better tell the others to do as they say. We don’t want anyone else hurt.” Max was ripping open Skate’s medical pack as he spoke. His injuries were just scratches, splinter wounds where the bullet that hit his gun had shattered. Like Max had said, he had been very lucky. An inch either way and the slug would have gone clean through his body. Skate groaned and rolled over, rubbing his head. “Jesus,” he coughed, squinting at Max. “Am I hit?” “Not as badly as you should’ve been,” Max told him. “Next time, keep your stupid head down.” Now he knew the guy was okay he felt a sudden burst of

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comradeship for him. Though he was young, headstrong, and a difficult bastard to work with at times, they had been through a lot together. “Here they come, Max,” Blaze called. “Better throw down the weapons and show our hands.” Max raised his head, and he could see the fear in Blaze’s eyes. All he could think was that he had blown the mission and got the team caught. He felt gutted. The worst of it was that thanks to the helicopter crash, they wouldn’t be able to contact Firestorm HQ, or anyone else for that matter, and now there was no way of warning them that this whole trip had been a wild goose chase, cunningly instigated by Dreadnought himself. Harakiri’s private army was moving closer now, weapons at the ready, to take their surrender. They pushed the team roughly down on the ground, kicking their legs apart and forcing them to put their hands behind their necks. They patted them down, searching for weapons and equipment. They took away Blaze’s pistol and fighting knife. They made them strip to their vests one by one to check their clothes for anything they might have tried to conceal. Blaze’s necklace, the Christmas present from Axel, was ripped from her neck. The soldiers were in a state of high excitement, whooping and laughing as they squabbled over their possessions. They evidently considered they had won a great battle and everyone wanted a souvenir. “Firestorm?” they kept jeering. “Firestorm?” They evidently knew who they were, and were over the moon about their cleverness in catching them. There seemed to be around eighty or ninety of them at least – so the team had been outnumbered a good ten to one. This made Max feel better, if only for a moment. When the searching was complete their hands were tied behind their backs with plasticuffs and they were placed face-down on the ground. There was a long wait then, of an hour or more. From what Max could tell from the frantic conversations in German, the soldiers were waiting for the boss to arrive. Eventually, a black car pulled off the road, and Kazuyuki Harakiri emerged, dressed in army combat trousers and a samurai chestplate. Despite his bizarre wardrobe choice, he was clearly a man not to be fucked with. He was huge. Harakiri barked an order in German, and two of the soldiers dragged Blaze to her feet and brought her forward. They stood her up in front of him, and though she was doing her best to be brave about it one of her legs was shaking uncontrollably. She had a horrible feeling about what would happen next, her mind racing. Harakiri took his time, letting the fear get to work. He was olive-skinned with very white teeth, broad shoulders, and a scar on his forehead. He introduced himself in English to the team, and explained that they had made a very foolish error in coming here. “Dreadnought told me to expect you,” he smiled, “and here you are, lining up like lambs to the slaughter. Did you really think you would be able to stop our plans? I have to say, for the team that defeated the great George Xetheus, you’re all a little more… puny… than I was expecting.” He paused and lit a cigarette with his immense arms. “I wonder,” he went on, “have any of you ever witnessed the interrogation of a woman?” There were sniggers from the men, who obviously felt they were in for a good show. Blaze stared straight ahead stonily, seeming strained, her leg still shivering. Harakiri drew on his cigarette, then signalled the two men standing behind her. They seized hold of her by the arms.

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Blaze stiffened but did not struggle. It seemed like every emotion had been ironed out of her; Max could only guess what was going through her mind right now. Harakiri unzipped Blaze’s top and pulled it down from her shoulders violently, tearing the fabric, exposing her bare breasts. He moved slowly then, and the movements of his hands, the way he touched her breasts, was obscene. He was demonstrating his complete dominance. I can touch her any way I like, he was indicating to them. Reaching behind her neck, he grasped her long hair tightly with his right hand, and wound a bunch of it tightly around his fingers to get a good grip. From where Max was sitting, he could see the tears coming into Blaze’s eyes as the man jerked at her head. “Keep still,” he commanded. He drew on his cigarette until the end glowed red, then took it in his free hand. “Do not struggle. One touch of the tip on your eye and – phut – you are blind.” He tightened his grip on her hair. As the glowing cigarette end approached her face, she fought to turn away but he held her firm. He was a very strong man, and the soldiers either side had her pinned between them. Harakiri brought the cigarette closer. There was a sharp intake of breath from the woman and her body went rigid, but no scream came. After what seemed like an endless moment Harakiri stepped back. An ugly red burn sat at the corner of Blaze’s left eye, no more than a centimetre from the eyeball itself. He frowned. “No reaction? Must I put the next cigarette in the eye itself?” Inside, Blaze’s aura was firing violently. Her entire body was screaming with it, and it was taking every ounce of mental stamina she had to contain the power. It was building fast, spurred on by Harakiri’s actions, and she didn’t know how much longer she could resist the urge to release it, to lash out with all of her strength. At that moment, the only meaning, the only purpose, that Blaze could fathom was that of the rage building within her. She could feel that “Dark Intent” surfacing again, threatening to completely take over her actions. Some small part of her warned her not to give in, but Harakiri and his private army had to be stopped… Meanwhile, Max had already realised that Harakiri was a man for whom the act of inflicting pain on a woman was an active pleasure. He was going to hurt her whether she reacted or not. Once he finished with Blaze he would start on the rest of the team, probably starting with him. But what could they do? They were grossly outnumbered, outgunned… Harakiri shrugged. He produced a gold lighter, and with deliberate carelessness selected a fresh cigarette from his pack. “Imagine,” he said, holding it up. “This red tip is the last thing you will ever see. Red fire, and then… darkness.” He gripped Blaze’s hair again, twisting her head from side to side. He laughed and jabbed at her face with little stabbing motions. Max’s stomach knotted. The guy was sick and there was nothing any of them could do about it. Blaze was going to lose one eye at least. It was just a question of how long Harakiri wanted to prolong the agony. “Are you ready, Miss Fielding?” he grinned, as if addressing an old friend. I am Homo Superior. The First One… Suddenly, Blaze was moving, though she was hardly aware of her actions. There was a flash of blue light and Harakiri stumbled back, caught in the chestplate by a fireball which singed straight through the metallic surface to the flesh of his chest beneath. “What?” Harakiri roared, confused, and stared at her with an incredulous expression.

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Blaze raised a hand toward him, and he was suddenly seized by an invisible force. “Please!” he screeched through his sobbing. “Pleee – ” A column of blue-white fireball energy blasted from Blaze’s free hand, went straight through Harakiri’s head and out from his skull. His corpse swayed. A negligent flip of her left wrist slashed through his neck, and his brain-burned head tumbled to the floor. “Holy shit,” Max breathed. Now the entire area was a blur of motion, soldiers rushing forward, weapons in hand, opening fire. But Blaze was into the dance of death then, into the energy of her aura, lost in the moment. She leapt far and long, fireballs blasting from her hands even before she landed. A soldier came at her, ripping off a clip, but Blaze lifted an empty hand and set up a wall of pure energy as solid as stone. Then she shoved out with that hand, and the man flew away, fully thirty metres, smashing through the wall of the production facility, killed instantly. Blaze was off and running, off and leaping, fireballs spinning left and right in a blur, every blast taking an enemy soldier down, writhing to the ground, her every move putting a piece of the private army on the ground. Blood sprayed. Soon none were standing against her, all trying to flee, but Blaze would have none of that. She saw one group rush into the nearby factory and reached out across the way, to a large boulder in the distance. It flew to her call, soaring across the grass, smashing one fleeing soldier down and flying on. Blaze dropped it on the production facility, crushing the ceiling, causing a structural collapse. Smoke and dust plumed outward. And then she was running, her strides enhanced by the aura, overcoming the fleeing, pathetic humans, slaughtering them, every one. She felt a surge of energy and strength beyond anything she had ever known, felt full of the aura now, one with it, full of power, full of life. And then, as quickly as it had started, it was over, and Blaze stood panting among the dozens of corpses around her for a moment, before her eyes rolled back in their sockets and she collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Max barely had a chance to take it all in. In the confusion, he had managed to roll several feet across the grass, narrowly avoiding being shredded by gunfire. When he saw that Blaze had managed to take out Harakiri’s entire private army pretty much single-handedly, he let out an involuntary gasp. Skate was on his feet first. He raced toward Blaze, checking to see if she was okay. She stirred, blinking her eyes at him, frowning. “Are you okay?” Skate asked her, wrapping his own jacket around her exposed torso. “I need a drink,” she moaned. Max made his way over, and they were joined by Murphy and Candice. “We need to get out of here,” Max was saying, surveying the landscape. “It won’t be long before reinforcements arrive.” Murphy nodded, trying to formulate a plan. In case of just this sort of emergency they had agreed with the German authorities a special rendezvous point, by the ruins of an old copper mine close to the railroad, about two miles northeast of here. Anyone becoming lost or separated during the mission was supposed to make for this point and wait there. The place would be checked every two hours by government helicopters. Right now, it was their best bet. “Everybody, follow me,” he instructed. So many questions…

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So much to do… So little time… Max pulled Blaze to her feet, and without another word the team set off in a northerly direction across the riverbank.

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XIV

Blaze slept. Dreaming… Her mind absorbed the scene before her, so quiet and calm and... normal. It was the life she had always wanted, a gathering of family and friends – she knew that they were just that, though the only one she recognised was her dear mother. “I love you, Lĩz,” her mother said. This was the way it was supposed to be. The warmth and the love, the laughter and the quiet times. This was how she had always dreamed it would be, how she had always prayed it would be. The warm, inviting smiles. The pleasant conversation. The gentle cuddles and pats on shoulders. But most of all there was the smile of her beloved mother, so happy now, so alive. When she looked at her, she saw all of that and more, saw how proud she was of her, how joyful her life had become. No sign of any intruders, any killing, any Syndicate… no bad things at all. Her mother moved before her, her face beaming, her hand reaching out for her to gently stroke her face. Her smile brightened, then widened some more. Too much more. For a moment, Blaze thought the exaggeration a product of love beyond normal bounds, but the smile continued to grow, her mother’s face stretching and contorting weirdly. She seemed to be moving in slow motion then. They all did, slowing as if their limbs had become heavy. No, not heavy, Blaze realised, her warm feelings turning suddenly hot. It was as if these friends and her mother were becoming rigid and stiff, as if they were becoming something less than living and breathing humans. She stared back at that caricature of a smile, the twisted face, and recognised the pain behind it, a crystalline agony. She tried to call out to her mother, to ask her what she needed her to do, ask her how she could help. Her mother’s face twisted even more, blood running from her eyes. Her skin crystallised, becoming almost translucent, almost like glass. Glass! She was glass! The light glistened off her crystalline highlights, the blood ran fast over her smooth surface. And her expression, a look of resignation and apology, a look that said she had failed baby Lĩz and that they had failed each other, drove a sharp point straight into the helpless onlooker’s heart. “Mother!” She tried to reach out for her, tried to save her. Blue fire erupted from her arms... Cracks began to appear in the glass. She heard the crunching sounds as they elongated. Blaze cried out repeatedly, reaching for her mother desperately. But her aura

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was preventing her from acting... a dark, twisted will inside her urging her not to react. Then she closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to control the aura, and sent her thoughts there with all of her willpower, reaching out for her mother with all her energy. But then, her mother shattered.

***

Blaze Fielding screamed, and jumped into a sitting position on the hospital bed, her eyes popping open wide, sweat beaded on her forehead and her breath coming in gasps. A dream! It was all a dream! She told herself that repeatedly as she tried to settle back down on the bed. It was all a dream… But what did it mean? She blinked, and looked around. She was in the recovery ward of the Klinikum Großhadern, one of the largest hospital complexes in Munich. The ward was large, clean, and efficient. She took a long, deep breath, trying to calm her thoughts. She remembered what had happened back on the Austrian border… the fight with Harakiri’s private army, the anxious trip back into Germany. She knew that she had to shake the dream away, had to focus on the events at hand, what Firestorm would have to do next to stop the Shadow Alliance, but that was easier said than done. For she saw her again, her mother, her body going rigid, crystallising, then exploding into a million shattered shards… “Blaze!” came a call from further down the ward, the familiar voice of her fiancé, Axel Stone. “You’re awake!” She took another deep breath, swallowed dryly, then turned in the direction of Axel’s voice. She saw him approach, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, holding a bunch of fresh flowers which he proffered to her eagerly. “Oh, Axel, they’re beautiful!” she smiled, watching affectionately as he unwrapped the flowers and placed them carefully in an empty vase beside her bed. He took a pitcher of water from the side and poured a small amount into the vase, then hastily tried to arrange the flowers so she could see them well. They were pink roses, her favourite. “You really shouldn’t have.” Axel smiled at her, and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. “Max told me what happened. I thought you might want cheering up a bit.” She lowered her gaze, but didn’t say anything. Axel pulled up a plastic chair and sat down. “So, how are you feeling? I understand you’re still having trouble controlling the aura…” She nodded, and met his gaze. “It’s getting worse, Axel. First, I blew up that hotel, then I attacked Skate, and now, I cause a helicopter crash and almost jeopardise the mission and the lives of the entire team.” She shook her head. “I feel like a failure. And to make matters worse, the aura itself seems to be taking over my mind, and my actions. Increasingly, I feel like I’m falling into a darkness I will never be able to escape from.” Axel frowned, and reached out to take her hand. “We’ll get through this,” he told her. “I’m sure there’s a way of controlling these powers, this ‘aura’. Let’s not

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forget, the Syndicate programmed you with these abilities… so they must have intended for you to control them. They wouldn’t have wanted you to be completely out of control – it wouldn’t have served Mr. X very well…” She scoffed. “The Syndicate wanted to erase my memories and turn me into an automaton. They didn’t want me to have any control at all.” Tears began to form in her eyes. “Axel, I don’t feel that I can make a positive contribution to this team anymore. I’m compromised. I want to be taken off the mission. I’ve become a danger to myself and the rest of the team with these… incidents. No-one is saying so, but I can see it in their eyes when they look at me now. I’m no good to you anymore.” Axel shook his head. “Don’t say that, Blaze. You founded Firestorm, and you’re a very important part of the team. And don’t forget, you were able to take down that army of soldiers single-handedly. This ‘lack of control’ thing is a setback, nothing more. We won’t just abandon you when you’re most vulnerable. We’ll get to the bottom of this. We’ll find a way to help you. There’s no need to make any rash decisions here.” “But at what cost?” she said, raising her voice slightly. “I don’t think you understand what this thing is doing to me, psychologically. It’s such a hard thing to deal with. There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane… the vicious and the evil… all the mayhem I have caused, is constant and sharp and I do not believe I have a hope for escape anymore... but even after admitting this there is no catharsis. I have tried to control this thing so hard, but I have gained nothing. I fear that soon, the aura is going to consume me forever. There may not be much time for me now. I am slipping into darkness, I can feel it.” Tears were flowing rapidly down her cheeks now, her shoulders buckling. He squeezed her hand. “Don’t talk that way. Don’t give up. Please, Blaze. I love you…” he swallowed. “I love you more than you know, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise. Let me help you…” A half-smile formed on her lips, and she nodded. “I know, Axel. I love you too. I… I appreciate what you’re saying. It’s just… so hard. But okay, I won’t give up… not yet…” “That’s my girl. Come here.” They hugged. The embrace went on for several moments. When they released each other, Blaze sniffled, emitted a short laugh, and wiped the tears from her face. “Well, enough about me,” she said. “How are you doing, Axel? I have to say you’re looking pretty good for somebody that was skewered by a sword three days ago.” He nodded. “I was lucky. Dreadnought’s blade managed to completely miss all my vital organs. The damage wasn’t anything a quick whirl in an Aias Chamber couldn’t fix.” “What about Adam?” she asked. “He’s here too, right?” Axel nodded. “Yeah. Don’t worry, he’s fine. In fact, he’s already out of here, on his way back to Colorado to meet with the others. Can’t say the same for that Zamza character though. Adam took him out good and proper.” Blaze raised her eyebrows. “Good riddance. So what’s our next move?” “We’re still not sure yet,” he told her. “Murphy and his intelligence team are working on it as we speak. We need to regroup at the base to discuss our options. But time is short now. We need to figure something out fast, before we have a nuclear disaster on our hands…”

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*** Silver McLeod blinked. He was looking at a scene of incandescent brightness. After the pitch-blackness of the night outside the glare was dazzling. The hangar was immense. From outside it had been hard to get a true impression of its real size. He and Dreadnought were at the south-east corner and from where they stood the vast space ran away before their eyes like the Houston Astrodome. The inner walls were painted black or maybe a dark green, McLeod couldn’t tell. There must have been at least two hundred great arc lights slung from the gantries running across the breadth of the place. Their blinding glare bounced off the plane and the concrete floor, and the heat thrown back by the reflectors was so immense it was like staring into the sun. The hangar was huge, but the plane was more awe-inspiring still. He’d seen these giant cargo freighters before, even flown on an American Lockheed C-9 Galaxy, but this was the first time he’d seen a plane like this inside a building. The great tail was towards them with its high T-fin practically touching the light arrays. The rear ramp was down and they could glimpse the entrance to a cavernous interior that gaped open like a railroad tunnel. The wings sprouted straight from the plane’s back, with the enormous fuselage and the four giant engines slung beneath. The whole effect was of colossal power and strength, and yet with surprising grace in the angle of the swept-back wing and tail surfaces and in the upward-turned winglets protruding from the wing tips. “Behold,” he heard Dreadnought whisper behind him. “The Gargantua… a destroyer of worlds.” The name, coined by Dreadnought himself, seemed to sum up the massive power and capacity of the beast. At its heart, this was a Globemaster-7, the nextgeneration of cargo airlifter developed for the US Air Force’s Mobility Command. It had been stolen by Shadow Alliance agents some time ago and was being altered to serve their own needs. McLeod knew it was spacious enough to accommodate the Rakushin Diffusion Engine, and then some. “The aircraft has been refitted according to my specifications,” Dreadnought said proudly. “It will now employ stealth technology, as well as a Multiple-Launch Nuclear Rocket System. In effect, it will serve as the largest aerial-nuke bomber known to mankind.” “How long before we can launch?” McLeod asked. “Mere hours,” Dreadnought told him. “In fact, the Rakushin Diffusion Engine has already been installed, and is currently being loaded with a complement of fiftyfive Rakushin warheads…” McLeod nodded. “I see you haven’t wasted any time.” A heavy electric motor whined into life somewhere and a tow cart came into view pulling a nuclear warhead. There were other warheads already in position by the loading bay and next to the wings. A couple of dozen men in white overalls were clambering about the aircraft. Some were servicing the engines while others worked away with long-handled brushes, swabbing down the aluminium skin. Others were running final checks and double-checks of the retrofitted systems. They were jabbering away amongst themselves, clattering equipment and generally being noisy. It was almost difficult to hear the fierce drumming of rain on the roof and the booming of the wind outside. “I’m not one to waste time,” Dreadnought said. “You know that.”

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McLeod nodded, and stared at him for a moment. The masked figure wasn’t kidding. This was far too serious for that. He looked across at the Gargantua, gleaming under the lights with the aircrews swarming over it. It was impossible to believe, but in a few short hours, the bombing campaign would be underway. All these months of planning would finally pay off. The world wouldn’t know what had hit it. Dreadnought had been waiting decades for this moment. “Nothing can stop us now…”

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XV

Miami Coastline January 6th

The Gargantua was piloted by Scarab and Ice, two mercenaries from the Signal gang who had betrayed their blood brothers in favour of working for the Shadow Alliance. Equipped with no less than fifty-five 500-megaton freefall Rakushin warheads, the deadly plane’s target was the US State of Florida and all of its major cities, with a total population exceeding eighteen million. The goal was to carpet-nuke the entire area, causing as much death and destruction as possible. It was a dangerous mission. They had been flying in advanced stealth mode since leaving Germany, and thus far had successfully remained invisible to the US military’s long-range radar defence systems. So far, so good. The problem was, as the aircraft drew closer to the American coastline now, the huge, unmistakable visage of the plane would soon become very apparent to the naked observer – rendering the stealth technology useless. And in order to penetrate further inland, they would first have to bypass a large naval base, at a considerably low altitude. It was quickly becoming very apparent to Scarab that they would not go unseen for the duration of this mission, and would undoubtedly have to endure an attack from the navy very soon. “Don’t worry about their defences,” Dreadnought had told them. “The Gargantua has been retrofitted with some of the most advanced deflection-shield technology ever developed by Dr. Dahm and his team. Nothing will be able to penetrate the armour…” Just the same, Scarab couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy as they approached the naval base. Through the window, he could see radar-controlled anti-aircraft guns and state-of-the-art missiles, including the deadly Sea Dart which was carried aboard the Type-42 destroyers positioned at the mouth of the base. The sea dart was a fifteenfoot-long missile weighing half a ton. On firing, the rocket booster accelerated it up to twice the speed of sound within three seconds, and it could pluck any normal aircraft out of the sky at forty miles’ range. During a terrorist attack on Miami several years ago, the sea darts had claimed three attacking jets. Now, Scarab and Ice were under no illusions as to the risks they faced here, despite Dreadnought’s reassurances that nothing would go wrong. “Better buckle your seatbelt,” Scarab muttered. “Don’t panic,” Ice told him. “That Sea Dart was primarily designed to fight the Russian navy in an open-sea war. But against a low-level target, operating against a background of clutter from the land, it will be much less effective.” Scarab didn’t reply. He groped the aircraft’s controls more tightly, swallowing dryly in the depths of his throat. As the low hills and fractured coastline of the United States loomed ahead, the aircraft dropped to three hundred feet and commenced its run up to the coast. Scarab twisted and turned the craft, weaving among the valleys. The cockpit instruments began to detect the pulse of enemy sensors feeling for them, striving to pick out the

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plane from the jumble of returning echoes bouncing off the hillsides. Ice tensed; they were headed directly for the centre of a massed group of naval warships. Below, an urgent warning pealed from the on-board speakers of the naval flagship: “Air raid warning red!” There was a panicked rush among the navy crewmembers. The next instant, twin 20mm Oerlikons opened up, bam, bam, bam, bam. From all around, guns on ships and land were firing and the air was full of smoke bursts, but the Gargantua flew on unscathed. The Gargantua was flying so low now that the wash from the engines was striking spray from the surface of the water. The firing became a crescendo. The racket was unbelievable; the deep boom of the 4.5-calibre main guns of the warships was joined by the hammer of cannon fire and the shrill stammer of GPMGs. But all the gunfire seemed to be falling short, bursting in front of the planes’ deflector-shield and making the water dance. To Scarab, watching from the cockpit of the Gargantua, it seemed incredible that the plane could fly through flak like that and survive, no matter what advanced technologies were protecting it. “Fuck them!” Ice roared and flipped a switch, releasing a Rakushin bomb. The monstrous weapon fell clear, dropping toward the warships below, and the Gargantua screamed away overhead. The bomb hit the water twenty yards from the closest warship with a mountainous splash. “What are you doing? You missed!” Scarab shouted aloud, but he knew that these bombs had a delay function, an impeller in the tail that had to spin a set number of turns after dropping to trigger the Rakushin reaction. It was timed exactly right to give the aircraft sufficient time to reach a safe distance. It was Scarab’s last coherent thought before the world seemed to burst around him, lighting the cockpit of the Gargantua with the awesome power of a million suns. For a moment, everything was suddenly still; silent and tranquil. An eternal moment of platitude; an almost out-of-body experience. There was no sound whatsoever. Then, a sudden, deep booming sound like the roar from a million subwoofers as the vacuum was sucked back, and the nuclear reaction built up behind them with a force that knocked the aircraft violently off-course. “Jesus Christ!” Ice roared, but he looked anything but worried. He had a look of absolute glee on his face as he battled with the aircraft’s controls in the wake of the monumental EMP burst. Unsurprisingly, the weapons fire had ceased now, and all Scarab could see was nuclear fire around them, as they raced to escape the course of the shockwave released by the bomb. Everything was happening so fast it was difficult to think straight, but after a couple of frantic minutes, the aircraft levelled itself out and flew clear of the danger zone. Looking in the rear-view monitors overhead, Scarab saw a huge mushroom cloud enveloping the horizon behind them. The sky was pitch black. “That was intense,” he remarked. Then he seemed to relax a little, as he realised they had just survived a nuclear explosion relatively unscathed. “What’s our next target?” Ice licked his lips, and punched a control, high on adrenaline. “Next, central Miami. Then, Tallahassee, then Jacksonville. After that, we have free reign to drop this shit pretty much wherever we like – as long as we use the full compliment of warheads…” Scarab nodded, and took a deep breath. Dreadnought had been right, after all. Nothing could stop them.

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The Gargantua screamed on.

*** The news broadcast from Washington was transmitted over every radio and TV station across the country: “We interrupt this broadcast with an emergency CNN bulletin, live from Washington D.C. My name is Michelle Cleveland. Ladies and Gentlemen, without further ado, the President of the United States...” “My fellow Americans, it is with grave regret… that I must come before you today, and confirm that a series of nuclear attacks have been made against the United States by foreign adversaries. Less than two hours ago, an estimated total of fifty nuclear explosions completely devastated the lands of Florida, claiming the lives of many, many millions of men, women and children… not just American citizens, but also foreign nationals and tourists from all around the world. This event… this horrific tragedy, is the worst act of terrorism that the world has ever seen, and my deepest sympathies go out to each and every one of you at this, our most darkest of hours. My advisors tell me, that the chances of any survivors in the region are extremely remote, and anybody travelling to Florida is now instructed to turn back and stay away from the area. Thus far, nobody has come forward to claim responsibility for this evil, mass taking of life, but it is believed that the attack originated from somewhere within the European Union, possibly Germany. I have tried to reach the EU President on the White House phone in order to understand this unspeakable occurrence, but thus far he has denied any knowledge of the attack. Rest assured, the United States government will not tolerate the genocide of its civilians on such a gross and massive scale. Our retaliation will be swift and decisive. Thankyou.” “Ladies and Gentlemen, that was President John Hayes announcing the shocking news of Florida’s destruction at the hands of European terrorists. Our hearts go out to all of you at this time of grave sadness. We go now to our global correspondent Jonathan Hughson for an overview of the political situation. Jonny?” “Thankyou, Michelle. Could this momentous loss of life be the trigger of a potential nuclear war between the United States of America and the European Union? After the nuclear destruction of London late last year, the world’s three global superpowers – the US and the EU, along with the newly-formed Eastern Coalition, have been in long talks about establishing a “New World Order”, a proposed world government that would eliminate war altogether. But this shocking new development may just put a spanner in those plans. A little over 100 years since the end of WWI, could we be facing the beginning of a third global conflict? So far, no official comment has been released by the EU concerning the nuclear attack, which raises doubts -” Blaze Fielding switched off the TV. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she said, shaking her head. “This is terrible. I can’t fucking believe this is happening. Not again…” Axel blinked, unable to move. His mind whirled. First Wood Oak City, then London, and now… Florida State!? “This is Dreadnought, without a doubt,” he

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muttered. “What a complete bastard! He’s begun his Rakushin bombing campaign… We’re too late. Fuck!” Max nodded. “It seems he wants to destabilise the New World Order before it’s even been formed,” he said. “And lay waste to our country in the process…” Blaze shook her head. “We can’t let him get away with this. There has to be something we can do. We need to accelerate our plans, for the sake of billions more lives…” She gritted her teeth. Decided. “The briefing will be in one hour, people. Be ready.” Adam Hunter took a deep breath, nodding. “I’ll make that call to Murphy now…”

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XVI

Firestorm Headquarters Colorado

After an uncomfortable lunch break in the base cafeteria, Max Hatchett followed Blaze Fielding to the secure briefing room where the others would be waiting for them. He hadn’t eaten, having lost his appetite even though he was hungry. He’d spent the past hour staring at his food in silent contemplation with intense feelings of regret and remorse. Since the news broke of the tragedy in Florida, hardly a word had been spoken between the members of the team – there was a thick veil of unease and uncertainty amongst them now, especially between Max and Blaze. Max felt partially responsible for all this, for leading the team on a wild goose chase across Germany, and while they hadn’t spoken of it, he could sense that Blaze was blaming herself for what had happened – for delaying the mission with her… difficulties. It was irrational, Max knew, but right now, there was nothing that could be said between them to bring consolation. All they could focus on was the dangerous mission that lay ahead of them right now, and hope they survived whatever fate decided to throw at them next. The briefing room had a high-security lock on the door, and there was a guard outside. He stood aside to let them in with a brief nod. Inside they saw Axel seated at the desk, working on a PDA, puzzling over the decode of a message that had just come in from Interpol Headquarters over the secure internet connection. The message was headed ‘FIRESTORM EYES ONLY’ in big letters. Max noted the reaction on Axel’s face as he scanned the text. “Read this, Blaze.” He thrust the PDA into her hands. Blaze studied the message. Max saw her jaw tighten and she flung the PDA over to him without a word. “They’re cancelling our mission?” he said in dismay. “Read on,” Blaze said. Max scanned the message. With immediate effect Firestorm’s mission was cancelled. They were ordered to return to Washington, where Axel Stone was to be taken into custody for questioning. A warrant had been issued for his arrest by the LAPD and the FBI. Then, the remaining members of the team would secretly reconnoitre the EU Parliament in Brussels, to discover what preparations the EU military were undertaking. “Jesus,” Max muttered. “They’re not serious. Do they really think there’s going to be a war?” Blaze shrugged and sighed. “What you and I think isn’t important. Mutual mistrust is all it takes to start a war.” “President Hayes wouldn’t be such a fool, surely?” “The White House doesn’t want to take any chances here. What are your thoughts, Axel?” It was Axel’s turn to shrug. “I’m just confused over the whole warrant for my arrest thing. I don’t understand it. I haven’t done anything wrong...”

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Blaze shook her head. “Something’s not right here. I smell a rat.” “What are we going to do?” Max asked. Their minds were racing ahead, thinking and planning. They had on the base all the kit necessary for a prolonged operation. Weapons they could obtain from the stores here. There was enough material in the depot to fight an all-out war, if necessary. Blaze took a deep breath. “We’re going to go ahead with the mission, with or without Interpol’s consent. Fuck them. We all know it’s the right thing to do here. Now let’s get this briefing started.” Once Adam, Skate, and a couple of other staffers had joined them, Blaze filled them all in on the situation while Adam set up a video link with Murphy in Washington over the secure connection. “They can’t be serious!” Skate howled. “They’re deadly serious,” Blaze told him. “Apparently the White House believes World War Three is imminent.” “It’s true,” Murphy said, his voice slightly garbled over the digital transmission. “There is so much panic and mistrust here in Washington it’s unbelievable.” “Murphy, why am I wanted for questioning?” Axel asked, his brow furrowed. Murphy shook his head. “I’m still not sure, Axel. Nobody is telling me anything right now. This has come at a most inconvenient time. Whatever it is, you’re innocent – I’m sure of it. They’re looking for the wrong guy.” “To make matters worse, Interpol has ordered us off the Shadow Alliance mission,” Blaze said. “But I think you’ll all agree with me when I say ‘to hell’ with their orders.” Nods all around. “Unfortunately, due to the mission being officially cancelled, I am now forbidden to work with you, or have any contact with you…” Murphy muttered. Adam grinned. “But you’re gonna help us out anyway…” Murphy nodded, smiling. “Of course, Adam. You’re my friends. And I know the real truth here. We’re the only ones who can stop Dreadnought now. Our time is short.” “So it’s decided,” Blaze said. “We take matters into our own hands. We go back to Germany to stop Dreadnought and end this whole mess once and for all.” “Wait a second,” Skate said. “Has anyone considered that we would be in gross violation of our orders here? We could be court marshalled, the second we got back! They’d have grounds to arrest us all!” “If. If we got back.” Axel said. “Skate, if we don’t do this, what happened in Florida will happen everywhere,” Adam told him. “This whole country could be wiped out. We’ll all be dead!” “But how are we going to stop a nuclear war?” “Hey, we can do this,” Blaze reassured him. “Just like we stopped the New Syndicate after the bombing of London.” “We can do this,” Murphy agreed. “A surgical strike would be the best way. I’ve been doing some quick research, managed to come up with some interesting findings…” he punched a few buttons off screen. Blaze turned to look at him. “What do you have for us, Murphy?” “Using a program of my own design, I’ve managed to successfully trace the flight path of the aircraft that dropped the bombs on Florida. It seems to have

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originated from a small military base on the outskirts of Düsseldorf, in Germany. A base that, unsurprisingly, was previously believed to have gone unused since the end of the Second World War.” Axel took a deep breath, nodding to himself. “It must be where Dreadnought is operating from. The Shadow Alliance headquarters…” Murphy nodded. “Right. And get this – during the War, the base doubled as a genetics laboratory, where Dreadnought himself performed hellish experiments on Jewish P.O.W.s underground, on behalf of the Thule Society formed by Heinrich Himmler. One of those experiments involved a young Jewish man named ‘John Souther’. According to the data on file here, it turns out this ‘Souther’ guy is the true identity of that Zamza monster we faced…” Adam recoiled in horror. “Jesus. I had no idea…” Max gritted his teeth. “That’s disgusting. So there’s no telling what we might find out there, lurking beneath the surface…” Murphy blinked. “Indeed. We’ll have to be extremely careful, for sure. Further information is limited, but from the looks of these satellite images I have here, and the Shadow Alliance’s ability to speedily manufacture Rakushin nukes, I would say we could be facing a small war of our own in order to take these guys down.” “We’ll leave immediately,” Blaze said. “We’ll take the private jet.” Max frowned. “The jet hasn’t even been tested yet.” “We have no choice,” she said. “There isn’t any more time for talk and testing. The time to act is now. Murphy, can you meet us in Düsseldorf?” “Yes,” he answered. “It shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll bring along Candice Redd, too. She’s my protégé, and I trust her with this. I have a feeling we’ll need her help on this mission.” “Sounds good.” Blaze turned to Skate. “This isn’t compulsory, Skate,” she said. “You don’t have to go if you don’t feel comfortable with it.” Skate nodded. “I understand that, Blaze,” he said. “I’m going.” She smiled. Nodded. “I knew I could count on you.” He gave her a light touch on the arm. “We’re a team, Blaze. We stick together, to the end.” “To the end,” she repeated. “Now let’s get moving.”

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XVII

47 miles outside Düsseldorf, Germany January 7th

It was 5.05am and still pitch dark as they settled in to land. The sleek private jet touched down in a cloud of dust. Axel was out first, followed by Blaze and Adam, then the others – Max, Skate, Murphy and Candice. They spread out in a rapid circle around the aircraft, covering all the arcs, weapons at the ready. Max made a sweep with his night-vision goggles. “All clear,” he announced. They were in the centre of a shallow bowl surrounded by steep hills. There appeared to be no trees, only tussock grass and some kind of prickly bush. There was a dusting of snow on the ground. After the aircraft it was bitterly cold. Blaze’s nausea vanished after she filled her lungs with fresh air. They began rapidly passing out equipment. The custom-designed private jet was equipped with a static cloaking device which would shield the craft from discovery, but it was still vital to get the thing unloaded before anyone saw them. After the anxieties of the flight, it was a relief to have their feet on the ground and be active. The mission was on schedule and Blaze was beginning to feel confident that they could pull it off. Before they set out for the enemy base, Murphy produced a detailed map from one of his pockets. They squeezed round to study it in the light of a small torch. “We came in through here,” Murphy indicated. “We are now at this point on the north side of the field,” he tapped the map. “The entire airfield is protected by a high wire fence. The military and scientific sectors of the base lie on opposite sides of a single, shared runway. A secondary inside fence topped with razor wire prevents access to the military side with its aircraft hangars. The space between is patrolled heavily by armed guards.” Blaze was impressed. Murphy had done a thorough job here. The map was beautifully marked out. “How accurate is this?” “As accurate as you could hope for. This is based on Landsat images and the knowledge of some of my local contacts. Hopefully, the route we’ll be taking is safe.” “You’re not coming in with us this time?” Axel inquired. He shook his head. “Candice will join you in my place. I will guide you as far as the inner fence and leave you there. Then I will monitor your activity from the jet. When the mission is complete, I will be waiting for you at the rendezvous point, ready for fast evacuation.” They established communication procedures. Murphy gave Axel a scrambled satellite phone he could use in case they needed help in an emergency. They agreed to use code words in Spanish to convey messages. “I recommend great care,” Murphy said. “Restrict communications to urgent messages only. I would imagine that all transmissions in this area are monitored very

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closely. The enemy could home in on you in seconds.” Once they were finally ready, they disembarked from the cloaked jet, shouldering their weapons and equipment. They were all now wearing white winter camouflage smocks and trousers. One side was all white for use in the arctic; the other was a mix of white slashed with black for use where there was a tree line. Right now they were wearing all white. Murphy carried no weapon but he brought along a set of long-handled bolt cutters. “For the gate,” he explained grimly. Then they set off. Max went in front with Murphy. The night-vision scope made the ground easier to cover. All of them were vigilant in case someone was following or watching from afar. Nothing happened to raise an alarm, and after about an hour they came over a low rise and saw the lights of the airfield shimmering through the falling snow. After a few more minutes the outer wire fence loomed up. The dirt track running outside it looked to be in regular use. “How often do they patrol this?” Max asked Murphy. “The outer fence is checked at dawn and dusk, but the inner fence is patrolled at two-hourly intervals around the clock. A Jeep with a driver and an observer. They look mainly for holes in the fence.” Max glanced at his watch, and reckoned they had three-and-a-half hours until dawn. The falling snow would obliterate any traces of their passage well before the next patrol showed up. The track led down to a set of double gates, firmly padlocked. Murphy applied his bolt cutters to the hasp and together with Max, heaved on the handles. It took their combined strengths to shear through the toughened steel. Murphy slipped the lock off and pushed the gate open enough to let them through. “This is as far as I go,” he told them. “You guys are on your own now. Watch your backs and remember the patrols. At first light I will be at the rendezvous and contact you over the satellite phone.” Axel nodded. “Thanks, Murphy.” “Take out that nuclear bomber,” he urged. “And kill Dreadnought. Don’t let that bastard get away again.” Adam gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “We’ll see you soon, buddy.” Murphy closed the gate behind them and padlocked it shut with a fresh lock. He handed Axel a spare brass key with a plastic tag. “This exit is rarely used. Anyone trying to get through will assume the keys have become mixed up.” Axel pocketed the key and nodded. “Thanks again.” “I will call you,” he said and vanished away into the snow. Axel turned to study the situation. The two fences were approximately a hundred metres apart. As he looked, details of the airfield started to become clearer. According to the map it was about two miles long by a mile wide. The fence here ran parallel to the main runway, which was laid out east to west. The military sector – where they were – lay to the north of the runway and the scientific side to the south. The military installations were grouped in two sections: what looked like the control tower and mess blocks could be made out almost directly opposite where they had come in. a little further on and closer to the edge of the field stood the dark silhouettes of aircraft revetments and hangars. Murphy had done a good job of leading them to the target. On the far side of the inner fence a road ran around the airfield perimeter, presumably the one used by the patrols. They had no means of knowing when the next patrol would be round. Hopefully, though, any check in the current weather conditions would be cursory.

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“Alright, let’s get closer to the inner fence,” Axel said, and led the way forward, dropping to his belly and crawling off into the darkness. The others followed closely behind him. The wind was blowing gusts of snow in, at times obscuring their view completely. At other times Axel could just make out the gleam of headlamps moving between buildings, which may or may not have been patrols. On the apron in front of the tower half a dozen aircraft were drawn up. As far as Max could make out at this distance through the night-vision scope, they were jet trainers and ground attack machines. Presumably the nuclear-armed bomber was safely snugged down in its revetment, awaiting its next excursion. “No runway lights,” Blaze observed. It was true. The approach lights looked to be switched off too. Evidently no aircraft movements were anticipated in the immediate future, but since this was supposed to be a secret base, who knew if any of the lights were even used? The tower still appeared to be manned – but that would be standard procedure at all times. There was a scuffling in the grass and Candice Redd appeared. “I found a good way of getting through the inner fence,” she reported. “There’s some kind of drainage channel running out from the base. I think it’s big enough to use as a means of entry.” “Show me,” Axel instructed. She led the way along the inside of the fence, the rest of the team following in single file. They moved on their bellies at a crawl, trusting their winter whites to camouflage them against the snow-covered undergrowth behind. It was cold going, but they had no choice. The grass under the wire had grown long over the years and, provided they kept low enough, they were effectively crawling along a narrow trench between areas of vegetation. The spot Candice had chosen was just as she had described – a concrete tunnel some two feet high, set back twenty-five metres from the inner fence, surrounded and overgrown by heather and gorse. “I’ll go first,” Axel said, cutting back the blocking vegetation with a knife. Once the entrance was clear he led the way, wriggling his way up the slick, damp tunnel to the other side of the fence. Once they were all though, he turned and whispered, “Everybody okay?” There were nods all around. Blaze frowned, her eyes surveying the layout of the base ahead. “It’s a long way from here to the hangars where the aircraft are hidden,” she said urgently. “More than 700 metres. What happens if we are seen by the patrols? It’s too far, surely.” Axel shook his head. “We’ll just have to take that chance and fight our way through. Come on,” he said. “Wait,” she dragged him back. “Why not take a truck? One of those snow clearers over there?” She pointed to a group of nearby maintenance vehicles parked in formation. Axel hesitated. The idea was absurd, but it did make sense. “Even if we are seen then, people might not suspect us,” Blaze continued. “They would think it was just part of the maintenance for the runway, or something.” She was right of course. A vehicle moving around would attract much less attention, particularly something like a snow clearer. Axel gestured to Max. “Max, can you hotwire one of those things. Something big and heavy that can take punishment.” He had in mind that they might need to ram the doors of the hangar. “Sure, Axel. No sweat.” Max grinned. “Walk normally,” Axel muttered. “You’ll attract less attention if anybody’s

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watching.” “Don’t sweat it,” Max said. “I’ll be back in a moment with the wheels.” He set off, shoulders hunched against the wind, the image of a reluctant man ordered out into the snow against his will. He reached the group of vehicles and they watched him move along the line, checking each one. Finally he climbed into a cab. There was a pause. Adam came and stood beside Axel. “Think he needs any help?” “No. If Max can’t start the thing, no-one can.” He remembered back to his teenage years, before he’d joined the LAPD, when he first knew Max from LA’s underworld wrestling scene. The man had been a tearaway joy-rider, whose greatest thrill had been breaking into high-performance sports cars than taunting the cops to chase him. There wasn’t a vehicle built that could resist his assault for long. They saw one of the vehicles switch on its lights, then heard the throb of a diesel engine as Max gunned the motor into life. They watched it pull out and make a wide turn to bring it round towards them. It was a huge yellow truck with a massive dozer blade. “I want everybody aboard sharply,” Axel instructed. The truck was enormous, built like a tank and almost as big. They scrambled up into the door at the rear. Axel sat up front with Max, while Adam and Skate settled their machine guns so that they could fire over the rear doorway. There was seating for two passengers, which Blaze and Candice gratefully accepted. Once Axel saw that everyone was safely stowed, he gave Max the all-clear. “On to the runway,” he said, “then to the left.” With a grinding of gears they set off. The snow was still falling thickly. Max hunched over the wheel, peering through the screen. He reached the edge of the runway and turned north, tense with excitement. It seemed incredible to him that they could have come this far without being detected. “There! Over there – that is the fuel depot!” Axel said, pointing. “The hangars are just beyond. You can see them now!” Max stared through the swirling darkness, and could just make out the looming hulks of the giant hangars. They were almost there. And at that moment a searchlight stabbed the night, illuminating them in its brilliant cone, and streams of tracer bullets tore towards them at every side. It had been too easy. The enemy had been waiting for them all along. They had driven into another trap.

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XVIII

Trapped in the searchlight beams from their left, Max Hatchett reacted instinctively. Flooring his foot, he sent the huge truck careering across the apron towards the hangar. A hail of gunfire opened up from every angle, and bullets pinged off the heavy steel sides of the vehicle. Their headlights lit a Jeep-mounted GPMG, firing at them from almost dead ahead. Axel could see the tracer glancing off the snowplough’s blade like coloured beads. He wound down his side window, leaned out and carefully aimed a 203 grenade launcher he’d had stowed on his back. He triggered the launcher and a huge flash engulfed the front of the Jeep as the round exploded on top of it. The gun stuttered into silence. A point to Firestorm… There was a screaming sound like tearing fabric, followed by a terrific bang. An armoured car was out there, throwing full calibre shells at them. It sounded like 105mm – a single hit from one of those babies would turn them into scrap metal. A second round cracked off, and this time they saw the shell burst 500 metres beyond and well behind. Max was swerving to throw off their aim. The gunners were shooting wildly, probably firing at their own side’s gun flashes; in a night action with excitable troops, chaos was likely to result unless officers kept a firm grip. More tracer and cannon fire sprayed around them. From the rear of the truck came a furious pounding as Adam opened up with an M-2 Browning Heavy Machine Gun. The steel-cored slugs were like cannon shells, smashing through light armour. Axel loosed off a couple more grenades toward the flash of infantry weapons ahead of them. From the number of shots he estimated half a company at least, maybe fifty men. The rest of the team was firing from the rear of the truck with smaller weapons – Skate, Blaze, and Candice Redd. Axel knew he could trust them to fire aimed shots and not just blaze away wasting ammunition like the Shadow Alliance troops seemed to be doing. Suddenly, something struck the roof of the cab a hammer-blow, and the truck rocked violently under the impact. Almost at the same moment the windscreen starred and cracked as two holes were punched through by bullets. Axel leaned back inside for a moment to slot in a fresh magazine. He was aware of Max gripping the wheel and shouting at the top of his voice, but the noise of gunfire was so loud he couldn’t make out the words. He was steering right for the hangar which was now less than a hundred metres away, looming at them like a huge wall. Dimly through the smoke of battle he became aware of Blaze’s face beside him, yelling at him. “What?” Axel roared, frowning. “It’s Candice!” Blaze was screaming. She looked terrified. “She’s gone!” She pointed out the back of the truck. “She got thrown outside by the impact!” Axel stared in tense horror, feeling a painful stab of remorse in his gut. Adam and Skate were firing, but Candice Redd was nowhere to be seen… “We have to go back!” Blaze screamed. “She’s still alive! I can sense her… she needs our help out there!” Axel swallowed, shaking his head. “We can’t! There isn’t time! We have to leave her…” He stopped mid-sentence and reached out, pushing Blaze’s head down below the level of the dashboard. “Get down!”

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A spray of bullets rattled against the side of the truck – another machine gun had found their range. Axel heard the squeal of tyres to their rear and a couple of quick-firing cannons opened up, sizzling round them like infuriated hornets. It felt like the entire German army was shooting at them. A huge ball of fire flared up, away to the left – Adam and Skate must have hit a fuel tanker. The lurid flames belched upward and blazing fuel spewed out across the concrete apron. Blaze cursed, and without another word she went to join Adam and Skate at the rear of the truck, opening fire. The loss of Candice was regrettable, but unfortunately there was no option here but to keep going. The searchlight still had them in its beam, and if they stopped now, they would all be killed. It was cruel to leave Candice behind, Axel knew it was, but in this situation the safety of the remaining five team members had to outweigh the one. Murphy would not be happy… “Fuck you!” Axel screamed at the top of his lungs, a sum of all the rage and hatred he felt at this particular moment, both at the Shadow Alliance and himself – for having been forced to make that harsh decision. He worked the slide of his grenade launcher, ejecting the spent casing and slotting in a fresh round. The range was right at the limit. He aimed high and let fly. Someone in the back must have fired at the same time because he saw two bursts detonate just beneath the light source. The beam stayed on but swung round jerkily, pointing up at the sky. They must have knocked out the operators. They were fifty metres from the hangar now. Another Jeep came roaring alongside, a soldier standing up in the rear with an M-60 machine gun, blazing away at them like a madman. A burst ripped through the roof of the cab, almost taking Axel’s head off. He fired back, aiming low to take out the driver. He saw him slump against the wheel and the Jeep swerved, hurling the machine gunner around like a doll, his tracer cutting away through the night, scything towards his own side. The Jeep careered onwards, striking the snowplough’s blade a glancing blow. The huge metal prow flipped the vehicle over and it vanished behind them in a cloud of dust and snow. More rounds screeched overhead, and Axel saw an armoured car that had them in its sights, pursuing them from the left rear – one of those fast, lightly armoured tank-killers with an outsized cannon. Luckily for them, probably because the gunners were afraid of hitting the hangars, the shells were falling behind them. He could feel Adam’s big gun pounding away at the back, firing in short, aimed bursts. The immense bullets, based on a German anti-tank rifle round, had a muzzle velocity of almost 1000 metres a second, and the weight and speed of the rounds produced a devastating impact. The flames and smoke from the burning fuel were spreading out among the attackers to their rear, and their fire was slackening off for a moment. The heavy cannon had stopped shooting altogether – either its gunners couldn’t see any longer or they were afraid of hitting the hangar. Max was steering for the huge main doors with grim resolution. He saw a bunch of soldiers in front of them scatter as the huge truck thundered inexorably down on them. The doors were only thirty metres away now. “Hang on!” Axel screamed out of the window, but nobody heard him. They were travelling at over fifty miles an hour and bullets fired wildly from behind were punching holes in the side of the hangar like giant hail. A burst of 30mm cannon chewed up the apron right before their wheels, gouging chunks from the concrete. In the last few seconds before impact Max dropped the blade of the plough so

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it would take the full impact. He was steering for the centre of the left-hand door, aiming at the widest part where the thin metal covering would be more likely to give way. The door came rushing towards them like a cliff face. He braced himself for the crash. Axel was still yelling inaudibly as the point of the plough struck the sheet metal, ripping it back like a giant can opener. With a shriek of tortured steel the truck tore on through. Max and Axel ducked their heads as flaps of broken sheeting clanged across the hood – but amazingly the windshield remained unscathed. A huge supporting beam bounced against the side of the hull with a boom that set the teeth rattling in Axel’s head, as they burst inside the brilliantly lit hangar in a cloud of flying debris. Directly in their path stood the huge Gargantua plane. The soaring tail, as big on its own as a medium-sized airliner, reared up into the roof. The ramp was down and Axel could see into the cavernous hold. Amid the noise and smoke he was vaguely aware of hundreds of men in running like ants to escape the lumbering behemoth that had smashed in upon them – nuclear scientists, caught in the act of loading Rakushin bombs for the aircraft’s next mission! Only moments had passed since the shooting had erupted outside, and they stood wondering what to do as the world suddenly came crashing in around them. They had burst in under the portside tail-fin. Immediately in their path was a mobile work gantry being towed out of the way by an electric tractor. Racing on, the point of the snowplough caught the tractor just behind the rear wheels, flipping it over like a toy. The fragile gantry crashed down on to the outer tip of the wing like a heap of sticks. Dead ahead of them gaped the exhaust of the inboard engine. Their tyres screeched on the slick flooring as Max spun the wheel desperately. The truck heeled over, skidding between the inner and outer engine pods. As the shadow of the wing passed overhead Axel held his rifle out of the window, muzzle upwards, and emptied the magazine into it. The hammering sound of the Browning from the rear told him that Adam had brought his gun to bear. Axel pictured the heavy slugs ripping through the fuselage right now, tearing off great chunks, severing hydraulic lines and slicing through control surfaces. There was a swoosh and a deafening bang that echoed so loud through the hangar that for a second he thought the enemy had lost all control and were shelling them inside. Then he realised it was Skate with one of his RPGs. Axel slammed in another magazine and grunted, raking the Gargantua’s cockpit through the window as they shot by. He saw splashes of metal and glass fly in the chaos. There was another swish as Blaze launched a rocket. This one Axel saw strike high on the fuselage, by the wing foot – a terrific red flash followed by a spurt of flame that blossomed across the wing as a fireball sprouted upwards, mushrooming into the roof space. A wave of heat swept over them. The plane must have been fully fuelled up for its next mission. “Fuck, we’ve done it!” Blaze shouted to the others in the cab, delirious with excitement and battle fury. She was right. There was no way that the Gargantua could be made serviceable again. The hangar was filled with men running for their lives now, trying to get out before the whole place went up – in another couple of minutes the flames would reach the ammunition aboard the plane and they’d be done for… Max was standing on the brakes and the truck’s nose was slewing as the rear wheels broke away and they spun around like a rally car. Their tail smacked into

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another gantry, sending it flying into the hangar’s rear wall. For a moment Axel thought they were going to follow it. He saw two soldiers running for their lives as they slid sideways onto them, smoke spewing from their tyres. Then the soldiers were gone, crushed into nothingness by the lethal blade of the plough. The Gargantua’s mid-section was a mass of flame by now, smoke belching up in oily clouds. Max was fighting to gain control of the wheel as they slid past the plane’s bulbous snout. His clear intent was to circle right round the aircraft and drive back out the door again before the whole thing exploded on them. A hatch up on the flight deck was open and three figures were clawing their way down a ladder to the ground – the flight crew, no less – trying to escape from the cockpit. Poor bastards, Max thought. They stood no chance of escaping alive, but at least they would get what was coming to them. Dropping nuclear bombs on the United States was not a crime that could go unpunished. Max just counted himself lucky right now that the Rakushin bombs couldn’t be detonated by accident here… He dropped down through the gears, pumping the throttle to get them moving round the aircraft’s nose and down the starboard wing to the hangar door a hundred metres away. He heard the thud of another detonation as a second fuel tank went up and the wingtip in front of them exploded into flame. The truck lumbered forward, engine racing. Billowing clouds of smoke rolled across the hangar, filling the cab with choking fumes. Everything went dark and the sudden heat was suffocating. Jets of fire spurted up through the darkness as fuel lines burst in the heat. They were moving under the starboard wing now, Max desperately steering to avoid the burning engines. Smears of liquid avgas spattered the windshield. A fiery drizzle of flaming droplets shot through the smoke. Any moment now the whole wing could break up, drowning them in blazing fuel. Their speed was picking up. Above the roar of the fires Axel could hear the note of the engine surging. There was the tail ramp ahead to their right now. Two hundred men were struggling down it, throwing away their equipment, frantic to escape the flames. He saw one, braver than the others, whip up a rifle as they passed, but the sound of his shots were swallowed up in the cacophony. Other men by the door of the hangar were firing their rifles at them, the bullets pinging off the truck’s heavy structure. A furious soldier leapt up against the door on Axel’s side, thrusting his machine pistol through the window. The muzzle caught Axel in the face, knocking him backwards. Christ, this is it, he thought. There was a deafening explosion in his ear. Blaze had pulled up her .45 and fired it two-handed into the man’s face. The soldier’s head burst into a bloody cloud and he flew from the truck. Blaze had fired instinctively. Another second and the man’s weapon would have shredded Axel’s brain. Max was swinging wide to build up speed. Through the smoke they could just make out the shattered door of the hangar, hanging crazily from one end. Christ, Axel thought. How are we ever gonna get through that without bringing the whole hundred-ton section crashing down on top of us? Heaving on the wheel, Max wrestled the sluggish truck towards the gap. Fleeing soldiers scattered before the plough blade as they cleaved a path through the mob. An electric truck driven by a panicking Signal goon powered past them, bowling men over without stopping. As they neared the door Axel could see a great beam lying across the floor in front of them. A terrific blast shook the building and more wreckage crashed down from the roof. A mass of tangled metal sheeting blocked their path. Without

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slackening speed, Max swerved under the plane’s giant tail. An enemy soldier plunged across their path, making for the hangar doors, risking being crushed in the desperation to escape. Axel grabbed the dash as the front tyres thudded over bits of debris, the truck’s body lurching wildly. Max was shouting to him. “It’s no use, Axel! The door’s blocked!” “We must leave the truck!” Blaze cried, her eyes round and staring at the destruction all about them. “No way!” Axel shouted back. “The soldiers outside have automatic weapons, they’d cut us down on foot. Try the rear again!” he yelled to Max. “There must be another way out!” Before he’d finished there was a boom from the rear followed by a devastating crash that split the apron under the wrecked doorway fifty metres ahead of them. Bits of concrete fountained upwards, spraying the hangar. An armoured car had found its range and was shooting at them regardless of its fleeing comrades. Max spun the wheel over to his right and swung round beneath the burning Gargantua’s tail, ploughing through the smoke towards the rear of the hangar, heedless of the faces that loomed up before him. There was a second boom and another shell screeched by, exploding against the wall of the hangar. The enemy gunners must have been raging at the destruction that Firestorm was causing. They were obviously determined to stop them now whatever the cost. There came another ear-splitting crash and a huge shell tore in through the wall beside them, missing the truck by inches. It skimmed past the tail of the aircraft and exited through the far wall, detonating outside. At the same moment a hail of small-arms fire broke out in the rear. Bullets whined and skipped overhead. Another shell crashed through the hangar wall and plunged into the fuselage of the Gargantua, exploding in a fireball of burning fuel. The armoured car outside was now firing full-calibre rounds directly into the hangar and to hell with the consequences. An anti-tank rocket whizzed through the partly open door and detonated against a beam as the infuriated soldiers joined in with the clear intent of burning the interlopers alive.

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XIX

The aircraft was a mass of flames now. They had cut across the tail, completing their circle of the plane and were running along the port side again, swinging wide to avoid the blazing wing. An RPG, fired from outside, whizzed overhead and slammed against the rear wall of the hangar, detonating in a shower of molten steel fragments. More volleys of automatic fire from the soldiers outside sprayed through the doorway and peppered the sides of the building. Underlying the rifle fire came the deeper thud… thud… thud of a 30mm cannon. An armour-piercing round struck the edge of the snowplough in front of Axel, slicing neatly through the steel. A lubricant cart caught in a burst of incendiary rounds was ripped apart, spewing torrents of flaming oil across the floor. There was a terrific crash behind Axel’s head and the cab bounced under the impact of a direct hit as the windshield dissolved in a hail of fragments. He looked round to see a gaping hole in the bulkhead behind him. A cannon’s shell had smashed through the thick steel of the tipper’s body and continued into the cab, punching through the back of the seat where Blaze had been sitting, and blowing through the glass. If he hadn’t pushed her down into the footwell she would have been torn in half. Another thunderous explosion shook the hangar and flames spouted up towards the roof. Axel couldn’t tell if it was another shell from the 105mm or the Gargantua’s fuel tanks igniting. A tongue of roaring flame darted from the flight’s deck hatch and a figure sprang out, burning like a torch. At least his end was quick. Adam’s Browning was still banging away behind. There was a crash from overhead and large lumps of debris came tumbling down. Either the wild firing or the heat from the blazing aircraft was bringing down the roof, trapping them in. There was a shout in Axel’s ear. Skate had thrust his face into the hole smashed in the rear of the cab. “Adam has taken a bullet, but he’s okay – I think.” “We can’t take the front,” Axel yelled back. “The fucking door’s blocked and that armoured car would cut us to pieces the moment we showed ourselves. Our only chance is to try the rear!” The smoke was so thick it was almost impossible to breathe. He thought of telling everyone to bail out, but the chances of them finding a side door in this hangar were a hundred to one. The Shadow Alliance troops would shoot them down like rats – if the fumes didn’t kill them first. Still, at least they had destroyed the Gargantua – and probably torpedoed Dreadnought’s plans for a nuclear war. No more innocent lives would be needlessly lost now. Back at Firestorm HQ, their names would be inscribed in stone, and the newest recruits would forever celebrate their heroic stand against two battalions of Shadow Alliance soldiers. They had saved the world, and given their lives for the cause. But then, fuck it, he thought – they weren’t finished yet. He shouted to Max: “Crash through all that shit and try to gouge a big enough hole for us to crawl out.” Max nodded grimly. It was the only hope they had. He revved the engine and swung the wheel over, and for a moment Axel thought the man had misunderstood what he was saying. Then he realised he was circling them round to gain momentum. The truck heeled round, crunching bits of

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debris and pieces of equipment beneath its massive wheels. Max was squinting redeyes through the smoke, trying to see beyond the end of the hood. The plane was no more than a wall of flames licking up into the roof. The roar of the fire was so intense that they could no longer notice the flying bullets. The heat made the paintwork on the truck blister and bubble before their eyes. Blaze was gagging on the smoke somewhere down by Axel’s feet. He reached down to brace her shoulder as they stormed blindly onward. A burning Jeep suddenly loomed in their path. “Shit!” Max yelled and spun the wheel without slackening speed. The truck lurched, tipping sideways. Max caught it somehow, and they straightened up and pounded on. The smoke was pouring in so thickly that they couldn’t even make one another out. If they hit the end wall of the hangar head on they might stand a chance, but if they struck one of the main beams they’d probably bounce off and the impact of the collision would very likely throw them all out. Dimly, Axel was conscious of more of the roof collapsing around them. Drops of burning fuel scorched their flesh and they seemed to be moving through a world of darkness shot with writhing flame. He felt his hair smouldering, and the skin on the back of his hands blistered and shrivelled. His mouth and throat were scorched by the fumes and heat. He heard Max yell as a long finger of flame licked through his smashed side window, searing his face. The truck bumped over something unseen in the smoke and lurched on, engine roaring. They saw fire ahead of them, crimson and blue flames feeding on the smoke. Axel never saw the wall coming. One moment there was nothing but leaping flames, and the next brought the loudest crash he had ever heard. He was flung back against the rear of the seat and his head bounced off the bulkhead behind him. Something huge and black smashed into the cab and the entire truck seemed to leap into the air, dropping again with a jarring thud that hurled him up against the roof, then forward on to the dash. The door beside him sprang open and he felt himself slide helplessly from the seat. He scrabbled at the dash to stop himself before an instant later the door was slammed shut again with incredible violence, knocking him across the cab into Max’s lap. He felt a draught of cooler air against his face and gulped breaths thankfully into his tortured throat and lungs. Still the truck ground onward, accompanied by the shriek of tearing metal. The smoke in front cleared momentarily and Axel glimpsed the snow-covered ground outside. The cab was out, and the rest of the body was scraping through the gap. Incredibly they had battered their way out of the hangar. With a final lurch the truck heaved itself clear and their wheels scrunched over the carpet of snow. They were out of the hangar and crossing the parking lot behind. It was still dark, but the flaming building cast a lurid light over the scene. The hangar was completely ablaze now. Part of the roof had fallen in, and the flames were leaping out. Dense smoke was rolling across the airfield, but firing still persisted out on the apron and strings of tracer curved through the sky. Axel glanced across to the right and saw that the second hangar was also burning. A stray shell must have set it alight too. The truck was jolting forward over the grass as Max grasped the wheel almost in a trance. One headlamp was still functioning, casting a yellow-eyed glare upon the virgin snow. “Kill it!” Axel shouted to him. “Kill the light!” His voice sounded hoarse and faraway; Max had been partially deafened by the noise in the hangar.

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Max pulled himself together and switched off the headlamp, and they drove on in silence. The smoke and confusion seemed to have masked their escape for the moment. Now they were in total darkness. “Make for the scientific sector,” Axel shouted to Max. “If we can make it there, maybe we have a chance of tracking down Dreadnought himself.” Blaze scrambled coughing out of the footwell. She stared round blankly at the shattered cab and the snowy airfield lit by the immense fires around them. Still no shots came their way as they stormed on through the darkness. “I’m going back to check on the others,” Axel said, giving Blaze a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. He wanted to find out how badly Adam had been hit. He opened the side door and, clinging on to the cab, pulled himself round and up into the back of the truck. In the flickering red light he saw that the sides of the truck were torn and gouged by bullet tracks, but the industrial-gauge steel had held the thing together. “The worst hit we took was a thirty-mil round fired from behind,” Skate told him, wiping his mouth and eyes. “The fucker penetrated at the rear end and detonated. We took a shower of splinters. Then as we were approaching the second hangar a burst of machine-gun fire ricocheted off the side wall and Adam caught one in the shoulder.” Axel knelt down in the jolting truck to talk to Adam. He was lying still on his back, with a dressing packed tightly against his shoulder to stem the bleeding. “How’s it going?” Axel asked him gently. “Not so bad, Ax,” he answered tightly. “Comes and goes.” He meant the pain. “It’s just a flesh wound, really. I’ll be fine.” Axel nodded, relieved, then got to his feet. He turned to Skate and said, “Keep an eye on him. I’ll be up front with the others.” Skate nodded, a look of grim determination on his face. When Axel got back into the cab, Max shouted to him, “Which way?” and dropped down into low gear. The truck was struggling up onto the runway, pitching and rolling across the snow-covered surface. The snow was deep here and it was hard to make out the tarmac, especially without lights. Blaze scrambled up from below the seat and the two of them peered out. “Keep right!” she shouted. “The science lab is that way – I can sense it… somehow, I can feel it.” Evidently, she was using her homo superior abilities to their advantage now. Axel felt absurdly proud of her. Chips of gravel flew from under the tyres as Max swung them to the right, plunging the truck blindly into the night. “Axel, I gotta turn the lights on,” Max pleaded. “I can’t make out a fucking thing in this!” Axel looked back. The horizon was brilliant with leaping flames and there were no more signs of pursuit. But it would not be long before the enemy figured out what they were doing and came after them. It was vital they got a head-start. “Okay – but step on it.” Max snapped the switch and their single headlamp stabbed into the swirling snowflakes. Snow was falling fast and he reckoned even with the lights on they would be hard to spot at any distance. Max shifted up the gears and their speed built slowly. “How far to the science lab?” Axel bawled in Blaze’s ear. She sent out feelers with her aura. “Not far, Axel. I’d say a few more hundred metres, tops.”

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He squeezed her arm. There was snow in her hair and on her face, but she looked beautiful. “How’s our fuel?” he called to Max. “Fine,” he shouted back. “I chose this one because she had a full tank. I’m more worried about the tyres. I reckon at least one of the rear wheels has been hit. But don’t worry – I’m sure we’ll make it.” A few minutes later they glimpsed two red lights glowing eerily through the murk ahead. “There it is!” Blaze shouted. “We’re here!” Axel nodded, and breathed a sigh of relief. Max braked the truck, killed the engine and cut the lights. The three of them jumped down from the cab, their bodies caked with snow. They had too much adrenaline coursing through their bodies to feel the cold now. Axel ran round to the back and saw Adam and Skate jumping down. “Bring smaller weapons,” Axel instructed. “What about the Browning?” Adam asked. Axel shook his head. “Negative. Take a shotgun. The Browning’s awesome firepower would be an undeniable asset, but it weighs too much. We need to travel light from here on out.” “Copy that.” There was no time to reflect on what had happened so far. Although they’d succeeded in destroying the Gargantua, the threat posed by Dreadnought himself was far from over. Immediately Axel shouldered his way forward through the falling snow, and saw the entrance to the scientific sector was actually an elevator that would take them below ground. He pressed the elevator call button, and there was a clank of metal as it responded. “Going down,” he said. Dreadnought had to be stopped, no matter what the cost.

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XX

After several tense minutes, the industrial-grade elevator stopped with a shudder and a jerk, and the doors whirred opened onto what looked like a military complex, a utilitarian’s bleak paradise. Conduit pipes and cabling ran neatly overhead, as well as below the metal-grilled platform underfoot. Axel went first with his weapon raised – a 12-gauge double-barrelled Remington – followed closely by Blaze, Skate, and Adam, with Max bringing up the rear. “Stay frosty, people,” Axel said, keeping his voice at a barely-audible whisper. “There’s no telling what we’ll find down here…” Blaze swallowed dryly, blinking sweat out of her eyes. She felt her aura swelling up lightly inside her, warning her of the many dangers they would face ahead in the darkness. She took a long, deep breath, trying to remain in control and focus on the objective here. In the back of her mind she could only hope that her aura would not cause them any problems or jeopardise the mission in any way, like it had in the past. They passed down a long, empty corridor, the only sound a loud, ambient hum of machinery. After a few hundred feet they came to a turn where the passage split into two, and Blaze paused. “Ssssh!” she hissed. “What’s that sound?” They stopped and listened. A strange mewling sound came from somewhere down the passage. The sound sent a chill through Blaze; it was like something out of a horror movie. Axel gritted his teeth and motioned for them to keep moving. He continued down the passage softly, cursing the inadequate illumination. The smallest of lights had been spaced about eight metres apart along here and turned to what seemed like their dimmest level. The metallic walls swallowed the light. A dull blob stretching across the floor appeared out of the gloom ahead. Blaze hesitated, almost stopped, but continued walking. Silently, they moved toward the grey blob, saw that it was a human figure, a man in a lab coat – face down on the ground. Axel turned him over with a foot, bent close in the dim light to see the face. It was a man he did not recognise. The dead eyes stared with empty darkness. Axel knelt and touched the blood stain on the man’s chest – stone cold. How could this man be dead here? he asked himself. Who killed him? The mewling sound was louder here. It came from ahead and down a side passage. There was a bizarre stench of death hanging in the air. Axel stepped over the body and peered around the corner. There was a constant buzzing as a dim light flickered on and off repeatedly. “Something’s wrong here…” Skate muttered. Another grey blob lay stretched on the floor, a few paces away, and at once they saw that this was the source of the noise. The shape crawled toward them with a painful slowness, gasping, mumbling. His—its—face was deathly pale, except for the blood smeared around its lips. “What the fuck?” Blaze blurted. Axel fired without hesitation, the shotgun blast ripping apart the freak in a fine spray of crimson. With a gasping moan, it crumpled to the floor, dead.

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“One of Dreadnought’s genetic experiments?” Adam suggested. Axel took a deep breath and nodded. “It’s a fair bet.” He frowned. A sixth sense warned him as he looked further down the passage. “We should keep moving.” After a while they found themselves in a large, steel-reinforced concrete room, the walls painted a muddy industrial orange. Metal ducts and overhead pipes lined the upper walls, and the room was rather aptly titled “Bl,” painted across the concrete in black letters, several feet high. Any sense they’d had of where they were in relation to the hangars and runway above ground was now totally lost. And there – emblazoned on the wall just ahead of them, was a logo that sent a wave of horror and dread crashing through Blaze’s system:

“RoboCy?” Skate read aloud, slightly confused. Blaze nodded as if she understood something. “And there I was thinking this place had gone unused since the end of World War Two…” “Wishful thinking, I’m sure,” Axel said grimly. He didn’t know exactly what had been going on here, but he didn’t like it one bit. There was a heavy metal door on one side of the room, firmly locked. The sign to the left of it stated that it was only to be opened in case of a first-class emergency. Axel figured that the “Bl” on the wall stood for “Basement level one,” his theory confirmed by the bolted ladder that led down through a narrow shaft in the concrete; where there was Bl, B2 naturally followed. A helpful plaque set beside the ladder informed them of the layout of the facility:

BASEMENT LEVEL ONE (B1): - Administration Level. For executive use only. This restriction may not apply in the event of an emergency. - Surface Elevator. The elevator stops during emergencies.

BASEMENT LEVEL TWO (B2): - Research Level and Archives. For use by the Special Research Division only. All other access to the Research Level must be cleared with Colonel Dreadnought first.

BASEMENT LEVEL THREE (B3): - Prison/Sanitation Area. At least one Consultant Researcher must be present when dealing with prisoners. - Power Room.

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BASEMENT LEVEL FOUR (B4): The “Vehelits” Experiment Top Level Authorisation Only.

“Let’s head for level two first,” Axel suggested. Max nodded. “No objections here.” Axel peered down the ladder shaft, only able to see a dark square of concrete at the bottom. Sighing, he held on to the Remington and started down. As soon as he hit the last rung, he turned anxiously and faced a much smaller room, as bland and industrial as the first. Inset fluorescent lights on the ceiling, a grey metal door, concrete walls and floor. He peered up at the others and gave the all-clear, then watched as they filed down the ladder one-by-one after him. Satisfied that it was safe to continue, Axel stepped out onto a cement walkway that led over a flight of descending stairs, a metal railing circling the path. At the top of the steps was a crumpled, dead scientist, so emaciated and shrivelled that he appeared mummified. Blaze frowned. “This place is giving me the creeps. Everybody’s dead, or mutated.” Adam knelt beside the corpse and examined it briefly. “This guy certainly didn’t die of natural causes. He’s been ripped apart. I’d say he’s been dead for a year. Maybe two.” Axel didn’t reply; he held the shotgun ready and walked slowly toward the stairs, noting that there was a hall branching off to the left where the railing stopped. He darted a quick look around the corner and saw that it was clear. Still watching the corpse carefully, he edged down the short corridor and stopped at the door on his left. The sign next to the door read “Archival Data Room” and the door itself was unlocked. “This way,” he instructed. They went through the door, and it opened up into a still, grey room with a long meeting table in the centre, a slide projector set up in front of a portable screen at the far end. There was a phone on a small stand pushed up against the right wall, and Blaze hurried over, knowing that it was too much to hope for but having to check just the same. It wasn’t a phone at all, but an intercom system that didn’t seem to work. Sighing, she stepped past an ornamental pillar and walked around the table, glancing at the empty slide projector. She let her gaze wander, looking for anything of interest and it stopped on a series of books. They were all stamped with the RoboCy logo, and though most of them were too thick and ponderous to spend time sorting through, some were emblazoned with the Nazi swastika and appeared to be from the 1930s and 40s. Blaze frowned, struggling to make sense of the technical titles. One of the books was called, Phagemids: Alpha Complementation Vectors, the next one was, cDNA Libraries and Electrophoresis Conditions. There were biochemistry texts and medical journals, but what interested Blaze most was a journal from 1943 entitled, “The Vehelits Experiment”.

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She picked up the tome and opened it, frowning as she examined the pages. It was handwritten in pen, by somebody called Dr. Koshiro. The surprise was that it was written in legible English. “Axel, check this out…” she said.

*** Silver McLeod sat in the staff bunk room on level B1, waiting for the mainframe to respond to the power-up and debating whether or not to initiate the Lambda sequence. Once the fail safe system was triggered, all of the connecting corridor doors would unlock, and those doors that were electronically powered would open. The creatures that had been trapped here for all these years… all these decades… would be free to roam, and most of them would be hungry... ... hungry and hot, and violently angry ... Firestorm was coming, he’d seen them on the elevator security camera, and McLeod didn’t want to make things easy for them. They were just in time for the finale, in fact, and he wanted them fighting for their lives as he sped away from the facility, away from the brilliant explosion that would consume the multibillion-dollar facility... ... and it’ll burn, it’ll all burn and I’ll be free of this nightmare. End game and I win. The Shadow Alliance will be mine to control. Dreadnought loses, once and for all, the sneaking, murdering, twisted bastard... He grinned at the small computer in front of him and started to tap in the codes, his fingers flying over the keys, feeling like his teeth would crack as the adrenaline pounded through his veins. ... 76E, 43L, 17A, fail-safe time... 35, vocal warning/power cut, 20, personal authorisation ...McLeod... ... and that was it. McLeod couldn’t stop grinning, didn’t want to stop as he lightly stroked the “enter” key, the triumph a hot and liquid joy spinning through his gut. One touch, and there was nothing on earth that could stop it. In twenty minutes, the taped warnings would start to run, and the transport lift would shut down, cutting the facility off from the surface; in twenty-five, the audio would begin the countdown—five minutes to reach the minimum safe distance by train, another five and... Boom. Thirty-five minutes before the explosion. More than enough time to get to the tunnel and power up the underground train, no matter what is loosed; enough time to speed away, beneath the earth, through the isolated hills in the outskirts of Düsseldorf. Enough time to get to the end of the track, walk out into the private plot of land, turn around and see Dreadnought lose it all. As the clock ticked to zero, the plastique fail-safe charges in the laboratory’s central power core would be activated. Even if all but one of the twelve explosive packets failed, that one blast would be enough to set off the secondary charges that were built into the walls themselves; RoboCy’s fail-safe system had been designed to take it all down. The lab would become an inferno, blasting up into the sky, visible for miles and he’d be there to see it, to know that he’d done what he could to make things right. This is for your failure, Dreadnought... It was true. Dreadnought had failed them, had failed the Shadow Alliance by allowing Firestorm to track them here. And now the Gargantua was destroyed,

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nothing more than a blackened hulk of useless metal. Everything they had planned for, for so many years, had crumbled to dust in a few swift hours, thanks to that meddling detective agency. The Rakushin Diffusion Engine had gone up in smoke along with the plane, and their dreams of a nuclear war too. Dreadnought’s failure was complete, and now he was going to pay. For too long had McLeod blindly followed the Nazi mastermind. He had been so devoted to the work, had enjoyed supporting the Shadow Alliance without question, but now, his finger resting on the end to it all, he found himself suddenly wishing very much that there had been more between them in the last few months, more than just his adoration for the Nazi’s incredible knowledge and experience... This is my final contribution to the cause, my final loving act for what we shared. Yes, that was right, that was the feeling. McLeod pressed the key, his heart singing, and saw the locked code flash across the monitor in glowing green. “I respectfully tender my resignation,” he said softly, and started to laugh.

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XXI

The “Vehelits” Experiment Log Entry – Dr. Yuzo Koshiro, July 23rd, 1943

Today we begin work on the much-heralded “Vehelits” Experiment. Considering my experience, and the things I know about progressive chemophysiologic changes in a human test subject — I fear what we could be capable of unleashing upon the world if the Experiment works the way Colonel Dreadnought wants it to. I have read Hitler’s files on Colonel Dreadnought — read about his steady climb through the Nazi party’s hierarchy, his advances in virology and genetic sequencing... and about the scientific ambition that has made him a veritable sociopath. I have a bad feeling about this Experiment. Log Entry – Dr. Yuzo Koshiro, July 30th, 1943 - The Success with the cDNA Compressor After five days, the cDNA Compressor machine is producing fantastic results. The latest modifications I made to the dilation matrix were the real key to the recent breakthrough. Now all in all I feel my work on this project has been the catalyst that propelled everything forward. I’ve also taken a set amount of time each day to make sure everyone is doing their job properly and of course I check all of their data to ensure that no mistakes are made. This is going to be a great success for Germany and the Führer in this War, and quite honestly, without my input and hard work I’m not sure that we would have gotten this far. Pretty soon, Colonel Dreadnought’s vision of the “Vehelits” Experiment will become a reality. Log Entry – Dr. Yuzo Koshiro, September 4th, 1943 High Incidence of Psychological Reports

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I’ve just left the weekly status meeting with the other researchers. The most prominent topic was the vast number of psychological issues we are seeing as of late amongst the test subjects. The number of reports indicates that 70% of the overall number of PoW’s being experimented on here have shown symptoms akin to schizophrenia. I’m going to formally request two additional psychiatrists when I next see Colonel Dreadnought in Berlin. The two we have are being overworked and the content of their sessions with patients is beginning to affect them as well. It seems the test subjects’ brains are being severely affected by the genetic alterations to their DNA. This sort of research has never been done before, so it is difficult to diagnose the exact problem. Additional - Patient Attack At 15:37 patient John Souther was admitted to medical after complaining of insomnia and nausea. According to the nurse Mr Souther was calm and exhibited no signs of disorder when he was brought to exam room 5. His particular programme of gene sequencing usually causes no major psychological issues in the other test subjects we have seen. However, by the time I reached him at ten after four, his personality had changed dramatically. When I entered the room, Mr Souther lunged at me with a scalpel he had apparently stolen from a supply drawer. With assistance of an orderly we managed to subdue and sedate him without injury. Mr Souther was heavily medicated. But in the 20 minutes he was left unattended he managed to carve the word “Zamza” on his arm and cut his own tongue into 2 halves. He will need to be closely monitored from here on out. Log Entry – Dr. Yuzo Koshiro, September 14th , 1943 We had a new batch of PoW’s brought in from Auschwitz today. One of them in particular has been hand-picked by Colonel Dreadnought himself to become the individual to receive final-grade gene sequencing, and become what is known as the “Vehelits” Organism. Subject’s name is Gunther Plaut, born in Jerusalem in 1879. Height 6 feet and 4 inches, fairly large build. Gene sequencing will commence at 1500 hours.

The writing in the book had become shaky. Blaze turned the page, and could barely read the last few entries, the words scrawled haphazardly across the paper. Only one was legible: Log Entry – Dr. Yuzo Koshiro, October 2nd , 1943 What have we done? The “Vehelits” Organism is out of control. We can scarcely contain it.

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The rest of the pages were blank. Blaze put the book down, her aura racing. Some of the pieces of the puzzle were finally fitting into place. But there were still so many unanswered questions. How exactly did RoboCy end up running this place? And what exactly happened here anyway? Axel, who had been reading the book over her shoulder, nodded to himself. “Interesting,” he muttered. Suddenly, there was the sound of something heavy sliding against the wall and the door to the room creaked open. Skate jumped back in surprise as a desperatelooking Silver McLeod hurried inside, waving a pistol frantically toward them. Blaze tensed. “Oh, shit,” she whispered. “Freeze!” McLeod hissed. He kept his weapon raised, darting his aim between the heads of Skate and Max. Axel cursed himself for lowering his guard. “Silver McLeod!” he said. “We meet again. What a pleasant surprise.” McLeod sneered, and aimed the barrel of his gun at Axel’s forehead. “The pleasure is all yours. The last time we met, I warned you that if you attempted to interfere with the affairs of the Shadow Alliance again, I would not be so lenient. Your lives will be forfeit.” Adam’s eyes narrowed. “If you wanted to kill us, you would’ve pulled that trigger by now.” McLeod smiled, and backed off a little with the pistol. “How very observant of you, Mr. Hunter,” he chuckled. Then his expression turned ice cold. “But I have other plans for you.” “Oh?” Blaze probed, raising her eyebrows. “And what are those?” McLeod didn’t look at her, keeping his gaze locked on Axel. “That would be telling.” Max took a step closer, intent on wrestling the gun from the man’s hands, but McLeod had the gun trained on Max’s chest in an instant. “Don’t fuck with me,” McLeod roared. “I swear to God, if one of you tries anything foolish, somebody will die.” “Where’s Dreadnought?” Max demanded. McLeod licked his lips. “You’ll find Dreadnought on level B4, with his pet monster, Vehelits. They make a great couple, those two. Relics of the War, really. They’re expecting you. Since you destroyed the Gargantua, Dreadnought wants to fight you on his own turf. It’ll be his last stand, I’m sure.” “You talk like you and he are on different sides.” That was Skate. “I’ve had a last minute change of allegiance,” McLeod told him. “Dreadnought can go down with his precious Gargantua and his bizarre experiments for all I care. He has failed me. Personally, I’m getting out of here. I wasn’t trained to serve in the company of fools.” Blaze could feel her aura flowing violently through her body. It was building to a precipice, the way it always did when her life was threatened. Stalling for time, she asked, “What exactly happened here, McLeod? I always thought that RoboCy Corporation dealt with robots.” McLeod frowned. “RoboCy was a Syndicate front company that dealt with all kinds of scientific research… robotics, genetics… I would have thought that someone as intrinsically-linked to the Syndicate as yourself would have known that. Either way, RoboCy took over this facility five years ago, not long after Dreadnought was

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resurrected by Dr. Dahm. My master, Leon Shiva, wanted Dreadnought’s wartime “Vehelits” Experiment for the Syndicate, so the place was restored and refitted with RoboCy technology in 2015. Unfortunately, the RoboCy scientists were plagued by the same problems faced by the Nazi scientists who worked here during the War, and there was a breakout by some of the genetic freaks being tested on. Most of the RoboCy workers here were killed.” Axel nodded. “That explains the dead bodies we saw, and that mutated creature…” “Indeed. Alas, I don’t have time to speak with you any longer,” McLeod told them. “I’m going to – ” In that moment, Blaze’s aura reached its peak, and she reached out with one arm, sending a wave of invisible energy toward Silver McLeod which knocked the pistol clean from his hand and flung it across the room. McLeod stared at his empty hand, uncomprehending, before Max threw his considerable weight at the man and football-tackled him to the floor. “Fuck you!” McLeod roared, and managed to twist his body away from Max and launch a powerful upward-kick toward the larger man’s jaw. Max was knocked back by the impact and McLeod leapt back to his feet, relatively unscathed. Before McLeod could contemplate his next move however, Axel was already running toward him, curling his right fist into a considerable uppercut, catching him across the chest. “Grand Upper!” McLeod cursed, stumbled, then managed to grab Axel by his hips and throw him forwards across the table with a strength that could easily equate to that of three or four average men. Axel landed with a crash, scattering books and papers across the floor. Skate dashed toward McLeod then, pummelling him with a series of punches and kicks, driving into the man’s gut, beating the wind out of him. From behind, Max grabbed McLeod beneath his armpits and lifted him into the air, before crashing him down onto his large knee in a powerful Atomic Drop move. Silver McLeod roared in agony as several of his ribs snapped beneath Max’s substantial power. “Do you yield?” Max roared. “Never!” McLeod spat. When Max released his hold on the man, McLeod got to his feet, only to find that the rest of Firestorm had recovered and had their weapons unholstered and trained on him. “You have nowhere to go,” Axel told him, suddenly feeling very comfortable behind his double-barrelled shotgun. “Give it up, now, or we’ll be forced to kill you.” Silver McLeod couldn’t believe it. Only seconds ago, their roles were reversed and he had been in control of this situation – or at least thought he had. This Firestorm group was evidently a lot tougher than he had first anticipated. It suddenly came as no surprise to him that they had managed to destroy the Gargantua. He wouldn’t go quietly. The word ‘surrender’ wasn’t in his vocabulary. If there was anything that Shiva had taught him, it was that you didn’t go down without a fight. He moved to attack, but he knew deep down that he stood no chance. He was going to die. And then, sure enough, it got very noisy in that small room.

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XXII

Axel led the way down to level B4, past an elevator atrium, toward a large hydraulic entryway labelled simply;

“VEHELITS”

He found the switch that operated the hydraulic door, noting the biohazard symbol painted across the front. The door slid open and the team stepped inside. Wow... It was a huge, high-ceilinged chamber lined with monitoring consoles, cables snaking across the floor and connecting to a whole series of standing glass tanks. There were eight of the tanks lined up in the center of the room, each of them big enough to hold a grown man. They were all empty. Blaze swallowed dryly as they edged their way around the enclosed room twice, watching carefully, listening, but she saw nothing at all, and could hear nothing but the smooth hum of the working machines. “Where the fuck is it then?” she whispered. “This has got to be some kind of trap,” Skate suggested. When the creature finally howled from the shadows across the ceiling, Axel snapped his shotgun up, and what he saw actually made him freeze. In the second it took him to really see it, his concentration blew away like so much dust, replaced by an absolute bone-chilling awe. Holy shit... The thing was still shrieking, its head thrown back, the brutal, gurgling scream like the voice of hell in the moving dark. It had been a man, once – arms and legs, shreds of clothing still hanging from its hulking body – but everything human about it had changed, was still changing as it bellowed its rage into the echoing chamber, and Axel and the others could only stare. “Jesus Christ,” Adam whispered. Its body was black and glistening like wet oil, swollen and rippling with strange muscles, and the bare chest puffed and bloated with its endless scream. Its right arm was six inches longer than the left, a huge octopus-like tentacle jutting from the pulsing hand. Its alien eyeballs were jerking wetly from side to side as if searching... … and the scream was changing, too, getting deeper, rougher, the shaggy face falling forward and melting into its chest. Like hot wax, like a movie effect, the creature’s head flowed into its upper body, disappearing smoothly into the inflamed and oily skin... and at the same time, another face was forming, growing, rising up

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from the back of its neck with a horrible snapping sound, like fingers being broken. Slitted eyes cracked open, a bony red hole of a mouth forming, taking up the furious cry with a new voice... and Axel squeezed the trigger in denial, a denial of the monster’s unholy existence. Boom! The shot hit its chest, and a thick, dark green blood sprayed out, cutting off the creature’s scream, but that was all it did. The creature was growing now, impossibly fast, expanding like an infernal balloon, getting larger before their eyes until the thing was the size of a bus, and still growing… “Fuck fuck fuck!” Skate shouted, and opened fire with his Desert Eagle handgun. All six shots hit their mark, but seemed to have no effect as they were absorbed instantly, swallowed up by the bizarre, tentacled cellular mass as it continued to grow larger still. A moment later, and the peculiar metamorphosis they were witnessing seemed to be over. Now the creature was huge, really huge, almost completely filling the chamber, the size of a house. One of its tentacles snapped forward then – cold, wet and disgustingly slippery – and wrapped around Adam’s waist, yanking him off his feet and pulling him into the air. “Adam!” Blaze screamed. Skate raised his weapon and took aim, but Axel shook his head and waved the younger man back. “Don’t shoot – you’ll hit Adam!” “Gah!” Adam squirmed in the thing’s grip, but it was way too strong for – Wham! Suddenly it threw him at the ceiling. Adam had time to wonder testily if it thought he was a tennis ball, then he hit hard – and crashed harder to the floor. He blinked and tried to clear his head, then tried to roll across the floor toward the others, out of harm’s way, but he didn’t make it; instead, one of the beast’s tremendous tentacles slammed down, cutting off his attempt. With hundreds of those tentacles now and only one of him, he was way outnumbered. “Guys, a little help here wouldn’t go amiss,” he blurted. The weight of the massive appendage sent a shockwave through the floor, splitting the concrete. As the tentacle pulled up and prepared to strike again, Adam almost rolled straight into a crack in the ground. “Adam, use your grenade belt!” he heard Axel shout. A splatter of moisture across Adam’s face warned him that the dripping tentacle was coming for him again. He skipped out of the way, doing a tight doublespin, but it was no good. A second tentacle slid under his arm, cold and nasty, and pulled him upward, high into the air. Adam squirmed and pounded on the tentacle, but the beast didn’t seem to feel anything… except hungry, perhaps. Directly below and opening wide was an orifice that couldn’t be anything but its mouth: way too big, multilayered, ringed with teeth and more moving parts in one place than anything organic had a right to possess, it was a vague cross between an octopus’s beak and the mouth of a spider on nuclear steroids. And Adam, it would seem, was definitely on the menu for dinner. But he was damned if he’d go down without a fight. He grabbed at his grenade belt, pulled it off and held it up, but the timer was crushed and useless. He got a tiny spark, but that was all. “They never work,” he grumbled to himself, then gasped and gripped the belt tighter as the tentacle swung him hard in the other direction. His stomach turned one way, and then righted itself,

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throwing a flash memory of going over the bars on a swing set when he’d been a child. Now there wasn’t much time left. He gritted his teeth as the behemoth’s mouth loomed in front of him. “Adam!” Blaze screamed. “Ugh!” Adam winced. Instinct made him try to jerk away, but he was held fast. There was only one thing for it – he pulled the pins on all the grenades at once, and then threw them into the creature’s open mouth. “Eat that, motherfucker!” he roared. There was a moment of silence as the creature swallowed the grenades whole. And then – Noise filled Adam’s ears, a massive, strange gurgle – then there was a flash of orange light as the grenades began to ignite in a marvellous chain reaction. It lit up the creature from the inside, silhouetting its grotesque internal organs. Alien body parts shuddered, and the behemoth screamed, thrashing as explosion after explosion pounded its center. Impossibly, however, the creature stayed in one piece, emitting nothing more than a stink of burned flesh and an angry roar. Enraged, the creature threw Adam across the chamber, scattering the other members of the team like skittles in a bowling alley. Adam landed with a sickening, bone-bruising thud. He saw the tentacles going for Blaze then, but he was too dazed to move, too shocked and incapacitated by the force of the impact. “Shit!” Blaze screeched, and threw a wave of invisible energy against the tentacle, repelling it. “Is this thing indestructible or what?” Axel ducked as another tentacle swung past his head, narrowly avoiding being decapitated. He raised his shotgun again and fired off a few shots, but as expected, the shells had no effect on the creature. “If those grenades didn’t work, I doubt these guns will,” Max shouted. “Better to save the ammunition for any more surprises coming our way…” “But how do we stop this thing?” Skate roared, blasting away with his handgun. It was like shooting into water, the shots rippling away harmlessly across the beast’s writhing, oily bulk. Suddenly, the sound of menacing laughter echoed around the chamber, originating from some hidden loudspeaker, piercing the atmosphere. Then, a rasping, electronic voice boomed: “Vehelits! That’s enough!” It was Dreadnought’s voice. In response to the command, the Vehelits creature stopped its relentless attack, backing off slightly, making an audible grunt of disappointment. “Don’t kill them, Vehelits,” Dreadnought continued. “I want the pleasure of killing these interfering fools myself…” Axel licked his lips, his eyes scanning the chamber, trying to determine where the voice was coming from. It was then he noticed the loudspeaker, nestled in a far corner, alongside a series of cameras which had apparently been conveying a video feed of the whole encounter to an adjacent room somewhere. Blaze rushed up to help Adam, who since being thrown across the chamber had done nothing more than roll to one side and groan in agony. He looked in a real bad way. “Adam, are you okay?” she asked, putting an arm around his back and helping him to his feet. He forced himself up, gritting his teeth at the pain stabbing from his wobbly legs as they curled under and pushed. When he was standing at last, he nodded wearily, covered in slimy muck.

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“Ouch,” he croaked. “It hurts. Why do all the genetic freaks have to pick on me?” “Can you walk?” “I… I don’t know. I think so.” Meanwhile, a hidden electronic door at one side of the chamber was beginning to open, operated remotely. “Step this way, Firestorm,” Dreadnought rasped. “I will be waiting for you on the other side of this door…” Axel and Max both raised their weapons toward the doorway as it yawned open, ready for anything, but nothing came out. They saw a corridor disappearing into the darkness on the other side, but no immediate threat was visible. “What do we do now, Ax?” Max asked, lowering his weapon slowly. Axel gritted his teeth. “I think we have no choice but to continue on. I have a feeling Vehelits here will have something to say about it if we don’t…” Max turned and looked up at the alien beast; it was sitting there silently, breathing, pulsating, waiting patiently. It gave him the shivers just looking at it, imagining what horrible willpower could keep such a creature alive. Perhaps it was best to move on. Axel looked to his left then as Blaze approached, helping Adam walk slowly under her right arm… … and a cool, clear voice suddenly blared from a different hidden speaker somewhere in the walls - female, calm, and punctuated by the rhythmic bleat of a honking alarm. “The self-destruct sequence has been activated. This auto-destruct sequence cannot be aborted. All personnel should evacuate immediately. The self-destruct sequence has been activated. This program cannot be aborted. All personnel should evacuate immediately…” “Shit!” Skate said. “That’s all we need…” The throbbing, screeching alarms blasted through the echoing chamber, through all the levels and corridors of the facility, along with the indifferent-sounding female’s repeating message of imminent destruction. The recorded voice didn’t say how long they had, but Skate felt quite certain he didn’t want to be around when the clock ran out. “We have to get out of here, now.” Axel shook his head. “No. Not before we’ve taken care of Dreadnought. We have to make sure he doesn’t escape.” “Are you out of your goddamned mind?” Skate roared. “We could all die if we stay here much longer…” “There’s way too much at stake here, Skate,” Axel told him. “The world, for instance.” Skate took a deep breath, nodding resignedly. Axel was right. Dreadnought had to be stopped, once and for all. Axel turned to Adam. “How you doing, buddy?” The man shook his head. “Not great, Ax.” He winced in agony. “I don’t think I’m going to be much help if you’re going up against Dreadnought.” Axel nodded, his thoughts racing. There wasn’t much time. “Okay, guys, here’s what we’ll do. According to Murphy’s intelligence, there should be an underground tunnel system built into the earth beneath this facility. You can get there via the bottom platform. Blaze, take Adam and head for that. We’ll meet you there… it should lead us directly to Murphy’s rendezvous point. Max, Skate, you’re with me.

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We’ll take out Dreadnought and meet up with these two before this place goes sky high.” Max took a deep breath. “Sounds like a plan.” Blaze felt uncomfortable with the idea of splitting up and letting the others confront Dreadnought by themselves, but Adam was in no fit shape to fight, or get to safety by himself. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll get Adam to the bottom platform. We’ll see you there soon. And Axel…” She kissed him on the lips, and stared intimately into his eyes as she drew back. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to do, but couldn’t. “Good luck,” was all she managed. Axel nodded. “You too.” Adam sighed. “I’m sorry, guys. I wish I could help, but Vehelits has royally fucked me up.” “You did great, Adam,” Skate told him. “Now get outta here. We’ve got a Nazi war criminal to take out…” Without another word, Blaze and Adam made their way back to the entryway, and the elevator atrium they’d seen. There were two elevators, a primary and secondary, both of which would lead down to the bottom platform, if Murphy was right. Axel watched them go, torn by his decision, then blinked and turned back to the electronic doorway opened by Dreadnought. “Okay guys, let’s do this…” With Max and Skate in tow, he ran for the door, hoping against hope that things would go according to plan.

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XXIII

Axel carefully led Max and Skate down a narrow flight of wet, curving stone steps. It was an eerie and unsettling place, a complete contrast to the stark, metallic corridors of the facility above them. It was like walking into a horror movie: the damp, underground walls were lined with yellowed skulls and a sort of dim underlighting that wasn’t quite enough to let them see where they were going without their flashlights – even their feet were shrouded in blackness. Finally reaching the bottom of the staircase, they all paused. They were in what looked like a small tomb. Directly ahead, another tunnel bored its way into the darkness. “Come on guys, let’s pick up the pace here,” Axel said. It felt like it took forever to get down this next tunnel, with all three of them aware of the seconds ticking past. No one talked, even though the going was pretty easy: a downward slope but not enough so that they stumbled, more skulls on the walls but by now they’d become used to that sight. Then the tunnel curved and ended abruptly, widening into a vast, underground chamber. Ancient runes and motifs were etched into the archways spaced throughout, as well as around the rugged stone pillars that ran from the ground up to the faraway ceiling. Water, probably snowmelt from the surface, trickled down the rough walls and pooled on the uneven floor. Wary of an ambush, Axel let the beam of his flashlight dance around them, swinging wide. As he led the way forward through the chamber, he saw that the walls were lined with endless rows of rusty steel blades, just like the ones used by Dreadnought. While not very well taken care of, this was obviously the compilation of a very serious collector. From somewhere ahead came the faintest traces of music – Wagner, “Liebestod” from Tristan und Isolde. Stepping cautiously, they moved toward the sound, listening to the notes getting louder and louder as they progressed, at last getting a glimpse at the growing source of illumination farther down the line. Finally, they could just make out Dreadnought, bathed in yellow gaslight and nodding attentively to the music while above him a series of deadly-looking ropes, hooks and pulleys swayed to an underground breeze. The sight of Dreadnought made Max’s jaw grind. He remembered their last encounter, back in the sewer tunnels of Berlin. He should’ve killed the freak back then. They crept forward. It was hard to see, and the darkness at their feet made it all the more treacherous, making it seem as if they were losing their balance at any given time. Every time they looked at the spot of brightness, it would blind them for a moment, leave them with nothing in front of their eyes but dancing nightspots. As luck would have it, at one point, Skate did stumble; instinctively, he threw out a hand to catch himself and his fingers found the wall… and the sharp edge of one of the blades hanging there. “Ouch!” The word – that single, small utterance – bounced through the chamber as though Skate had brayed it into a megaphone. They were still cloaked in darkness, but up ahead they saw Dreadnought sit up, his skeletal, mask-covered head swivelling as he tried to pinpoint their location.

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“Welcome to my humble abode,” Dreadnought said, getting to his feet, stepping toward them. “I must express my disappointment at the destruction of the Gargantua. Thanks to you, my plans are ruined…” Axel drew his shotgun. Now they were in some kind of lab or torture chamber, with way too many objets d’pain hanging on the ceiling that could drop onto their heads at any moment. To add to the aggravation, the floor here was made of decrepit, squeaky, wooden planks. The Wagner piece stopped as the needle ran to the end of the old vinyl record and the room dropped into sudden, unnerving silence. “What, only three of you?” Dreadnought asked, sounding disappointed. “Such a pity. I’ll just have to send my sentry robot after the others. It’s a RoboCy Mark III. They won’t stand a chance, especially the injured man…” Without moving any other part of his body, he lifted a hand and pressed several buttons on his cybernetic chestplate, sending a radio signal to some other part of the facility. Great. “So, you’ve made it this far,” Dreadnought continued, “but do you have what it takes to defeat me?” Axel took aim with the shotgun, but suddenly Dreadnought was moving, impossibly fast, a blur of motion in the darkness. Axel, Max and Skate all jerked at the sound of blades slicing through the air. They tried to dodge, but Skate simply didn’t make it in time; he cried out as one of Dreadnought’s short swords ripped deeply into the meat of his arm. Skate staggered backward as blood swelled from the wound and he automatically clutched at it, too shocked to try to block Dreadnought’s next strike. The skeletal man went in for the kill – And Axel thrust his shotgun between the blade and Skate’s throat. Sparks danced off the edge of the sword, and Dreadnought went to strike again, but this time Max opened fire, blasting four 9mm rounds into Dreadnought’s shoulder and arm, forcing the Nazi freak backwards. Axel charged forward, launching into his Grand Upper move, hitting Dreadnought again, and again. The spindly man staggered backward with each blow, but he still wouldn’t fall. Then, suddenly, Dreadnought began to laugh. Axel had maybe a half second to register that something was wrong, and then the floor fell out from under him. A trapdoor! Skate went down with him, followed by their weapons. “Hey!” Max roared, just stopping short of falling through himself. Axel’s large hand shot out and closed around a rope just as his other hand found Skate’s wrist and locked around it. The rope slid downward, feeding through a copper pulley somewhere overhead; then it stopped with a bone-rattling wrench as a knot in its length lodged in the pulley. Axel’s backpack jerked free and dropped away, following the weapons into the darkness somewhere below. Silence… then a couple of seconds later, the weapons hit the ground below them with a resounding crash. Axel and Skate hung there, and Axel could hear Skate panting below him. “Well,” Skate managed to whisper, “it’s not that big a fall – ” Before Axel could reply, a harsh series of clangs reverberated below their feet. More metal – and when the two of them stretched their necks so they could see the ground, it was bristling with sparkling steel spikes that were at least six feet tall. Wonderful.

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***

The cool, dark ride down through the elevator shaft ended in a squeal of hydraulic brakes and then silence, as the engines shut down and trapped them somewhere in the seemingly endless tunnel. “Blaze? What…?” Blaze held a finger to her lips, hushing Adam. She could still hear the sound of the alarm from somewhere outside, a repeating, muffled bleat of honking noise, and a muffled voice, but nothing else. “Come on, Adam, I think this ride’s over. Power must be gone. Let’s see where we ended up, okay?” Adam nodded, still wincing with pain. “Sure thing, babe.” Blaze gestured toward the elevator doors, giving them a subtle nudge with her aura, and they whispered open obediently. There was light, coming from somewhere outside. Looking out, Blaze saw that they had stopped only a few feet down from some kind of a service tunnel, the light coming from a caged bulb that hung down from the tunnel’s ceiling. There wasn’t a door, but there was a decent-sized crawl space at the end of the short passage; given the circumstances, it would have to do. It’s either that or climb back to the surface, probably only a mile or so up... Not a chance. Blaze boosted Adam up and then climbed after him, moving to the front and then crouch-walking to the dark hole. They’d have to abandon the lift and hope that they were leaving it for something better. Blaze swivelled around, sighing. “Looks like crawl time for me and you, Adam. I'll go first, and then...” Slam! Adam howled in surprise as something landed on the roof of the elevator behind them, crashing through the top in a thundering clap of rending metal. Blaze grabbed him, pulling him close, her breath caught in her throat... and a robotic hand, two robotic hands appeared through the hole in the roof. Two thick, titanium arms, clad in shadow... and the gleaming sparkle of an enormous robotic head rose up from the destroyed lift, like a full moon on a starless night. “It’s a RoboCy sentry!” Adam hissed. “No mistaking it!” “Go!” Blaze turned and pushed Adam toward the darkness of the crawl space, her heart hammering, her body suddenly slick with sweat. “Go! Go, I'm right behind you!” Adam disappeared into the curving black, darting out of sight like a frightened mouse, and Blaze didn’t look back, was too scared shitless to look back as she followed Adam into the hole, their relentless robotic stalker surely climbing through the shattered elevator to continue its determined and unfathomable hunt.

***

“Thunder Tackle!” Max charged toward Dreadnought, rolling into a human wrecking ball, intent on bulldozing the Nazi zombie into the ground. Dreadnought, however, saw the attack

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coming and sidestepped casually, allowing the larger man to roll past without doing any damage. “Too slow,” Dreadnought mocked. Max grunted, and as he got to his feet and turned around, he saw Dreadnought spinning toward him like some hellish firework, his blades extended, creating a deadly rotor-blade effect. Max had less than a second to jump back and avoid being chopped in half. Dreadnought’s spin ended and the freak leapt at Max then, fast and without warning, extending his blades forward, slicing deep into the flesh of Max’s gut. Max howled and fell to the ground in a heap, clutching at his midsection in agony. When he brought his hands up and looked at them, they were covered in his own blood. “Son of a bitch,” he roared between clenched teeth. He went to stand up but a sudden, sharp spasm of pain prevented him from doing so. He yelped and fell back down, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I’ll get you for this, you son of a bitch, you motherfucker…” “It’s time to end this ridiculous charade,” Dreadnought rasped, ignoring him. Without another word, he raised his right arm, and then brought the gleaming, deadly blade of his finest sword stabbing down into Max’s stomach. Blood sprayed.

***

When they reached the end of the crawl space and emerged on the other side, Blaze breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “It’s good to be out of there,” she said, wiping sweat from her brow. “But where are we now…?” They squinted in the darkness. The room was set up almost like a loading dock: a railed platform ran from the main elevator door along the back wall, then ended abruptly, giving way to a seemingly endless void. “Could it be a train? Is this like a train station?” Adam asked, and as soon as he said ‘train’, Blaze gave herself a solid mental kick in the ass. Platform, railings, about a thousand overhead pipes… Blaze grinned at Adam, shaking her head at her own stupidity; she was getting flaky, no doubt about it. “Yeah, I think it is,” she said, “though you guessed it, not me. My brain must be on strike... This must be the bottom platform that Axel told us to get to. What a stroke of luck!” The small computer console on one side of the platform, the one she’d dismissed as unimportant, was probably the control board. Blaze headed for it, helping Adam along, looking back every now and then to make sure the sentry robot wasn’t following them… Sure enough, just beneath the small monitor screen on the standing console was a recall command code and a ten-key. Blaze tapped in the code and hit “enter” – and the chamber was filled with the smooth hum of working machinery: the sound of a train. “You know, I think we might just make it out of here,” Blaze said, and Adam smiled through his pain, his entire face crinkling. Blaze wrapped an arm around his hunched shoulders and they walked back to the edge of the platform to wait.

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The tram’s light appeared after a few seconds, the tiny circle of brightness getting bigger as they watched. After the trials they’d been through, Blaze decided to be as fantastically optimistic about this new development as she could – primarily to keep from worrying about what horrible thing would probably happen next. The train would lead out of harm’s way, of course, and it would be well stocked with food and water; it’d have showers and fresh, warm clothes, bottles of vintage wine… Nah, scratch that. A hot tub, and a couple of those thick terry robes, for after. And slippers. Nice, but she’d settle for anything that didn’t include giant monsters or crazy, undead Nazis. The train was close enough now for them to see its shape, a single car about twenty or twenty-five feet long riding smoothly along its overhead track. “So this should lead to the rendezvous point,” Blaze said, “where Murphy will be waiting for us…” Before Adam could say anything, the door to the platform exploded. The hatch blew inward, torn off its hinges in a squeal of metal and clanging to the floor and Blaze grabbed Adam, pulling him close as the towering Mark III Sentry Robot stepped into the room, bending low and sideways to squeeze through the opening, its body parts whirring with motion, its soulless gaze turning toward them at once. “Jesus!” Adam croaked. “Get behind me!” Blaze shouted, pulling her handgun, risking a glance back at the approaching train. Ten seconds, they needed ten seconds, but the robot took a giant step toward them, and she knew they didn’t have them. The robotic face, expressionless, its giant arm already raising the particle beam cannon, still twenty feet away but only four steps in his massive stride… “Get on the train when it stops!” Blaze screamed, and pulled the trigger. Four, five, six shots, beating into the thing’s metallic chest. The seventh hit the face, but the robot didn’t stop. Another mighty step, the black, smoking pit in its face a testament to its inhumanity. The particle cannon on its arm started to humm, powering up, preparing to incinerate them. No! Blaze thought, her aura racing around her system. There were only seconds to act. She suddenly felt so hot, full of rage, malice, such dark intent… and her entire body burst into blue flame. Blaze concentrated her anger towards the robot now, channelling her energy with all of her strength… “Kikousho!” … and a huge blue fireball smashed into the sentry ‘bot, knocking it back, sending crippling sparks of electricity across its surface. Adam could do nothing but shield his face, screaming, and Blaze backed away, throwing another fireball. Two more fireballs and then the thing exploded, blowing fragments of metal in all directions. “Fuck!” Adam roared, catching shrapnel in his left leg. Blaze, slightly dazed for a moment, blinked her eyes and turned to look at Adam in amazement. She licked her lips and said simply, “I can control it!” Then a moment later they were on the train, and Adam had found the control for the door. It whooshed shut. “Sorry about your leg,” Blaze said to Adam. “That’s my bad.” He shook his head. “Forget it, sugar. The robot is down, and that’s the important thing. You did good.”

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Blaze nodded. “Okay. Come on.” She helped him to the door at the front of the three-car subway, heading for the control board. The bleating alarms were still sounding out there, echoing through the concrete tunnel. The woman’s bland voice, the voice that Blaze had started to hate long moments ago, informed them that they had three minutes to get to the minimum safe distance. Come on, Axel. Where the fuck are you?

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XXIV

Dangling in the darkness, Axel waited. It wasn’t long before Dreadnought peered over the edge of the trapdoor like an ugly-eyed spider, trying to see what he could see, listening for any kind of a sound. “One down, two to go,” Dreadnought muttered. Come on, Axel thought. Just a little more… With Skate now hanging off the back of his belt, Axel threw the length of rope that had been dangling below him up and over Dreadnought’s head, catching the monster man in a nice, tidy loop. Axel yanked him forward as hard as he could, but Dreadnought wasn’t going to be as easy as Axel had assumed; before he’d gone three inches, Dreadnought had a blade in each hand and he drove them into the floor, giving himself a good, solid anchor. But Axel had alternate plans, too, and that hold was just what Axel needed; keeping a die-hard hold on the lasso around Dreadnought’s neck, Axel pulled himself up the rope, hand over hand, heading up and out of the pit. Breathing heavily behind his mask, Dreadnought brought up one of his blades and swung the sharp end toward the rope. “Oh, no you don’t,” Axel growled. With a fast double-loop of the rope around his gloved fist, he pulled down as hard as he could. His remaining knife-anchor just wasn’t enough to hold him there, and Dreadnought gagged and fell forward, tumbling over the edge of the trapdoor. “NOOOoooooo!” He screamed all the way down and landed headfirst on the spikes, wriggling like a fish caught on a hook. But every movement only made it worse and sent him sliding farther down the blades. He was thoroughly and completely stuck. Axel turned his attention to the hatch in the floor above him and began hauling himself and Skate upward. Finally catching the edge, he dragged himself and his cargo over, then sat for a moment as Skate let go of his belt and rolled away, cursing. Axel’s gaze fastened on something off to the side – one of Dreadnought’s blades, firmly embedded in the floor. At its back end was Dreadnought’s cybernetic hand, still whirring and twitching away. It could mean only one thing. The fiend was still alive. Peering over the edge of the trapdoor, Axel could just see Dreadnought. He’d already freed one arm by slicing through his own bicep – strands of dried-out muscle hung from the stump like dirty pieces of rope. The monster would probably free himself by chopping off half his body, then sewing himself together out of someone else’s parts. Not this time. Axel got to his feet and glared down at the struggling Dreadnought. “Where do you think you’re going, you Nazi scum?” he growled. Axel took two strides to the right, where a massive old cogwheel had been pushed out of the way, covered in cobwebs. He got a solid grip on the aging piece of machinery’s edge and with a grunt, hauled it over the opening in the floor. With a cry of satisfaction, he forced it over the edge. “Die, you freak!” Dreadnought had just enough time for a blood-freezing scream before he was crushed completely.

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***

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Max Hatchett said, but he was a terrible liar. Axel frowned, staring at the ugly, bloody wound on the larger man’s gut. “Yes, it is. You’re lucky to be alive. We’ll get you to a hospital as soon as possible, Max. Right now we have to get out of here. This whole place is gonna explode in moments…” He turned and watched as Skate tore a piece off his shirt and carefully bandaged his gashed arm. He had to admit that it looked pretty painful – cut to the bone, blood soaked the covering almost immediately and it was definitely going to need a whole bunch of stitches. Even so, the guy seemed to be taking it like a trooper. “Are you okay to run, Skate?” Axel finally asked. When Skate gave him a weak but stubborn nod, Axel got to his feet. “Alright guys. Let’s go.” They ran.

***

The secondary elevator did go down, though not quite as Axel had expected, and not nearly as fast as they needed it to go. The wide platform slipped down an angled tunnel, like a slide, neon gridwork on black walls humming past. Slowly… “... now forty seconds to reach minimum safe distance.” “Go go go...” Axel breathed, every ache and pain in his body forgotten in the rising dread that beat at his brain. The voice had stopped telling him to report to the bottom platform, now only making brief announcements in ten-second increments. As much as he loathed the repeated instructions, it was much worse not hearing them; the silences between the statements were telling him not to bother trying. To make it this far and then die because of a slow elevator... He couldn’t accept that. They’d been through too much. The mission was a success – the world was now safe from the Rakushin threat, Dreadnought and Silver McLeod were dead, and the Shadow Alliance forces were in shambles – they had to make it, or it was all for nothing. Standing beside Axel, Skate was sweating, unable to keep still. Clearly the man was shitting himself. Max was in a bad way too; he was actually having trouble staying on his feet, but he had insisted that he was fine to go on. Better to die trying than not. Better to die trying… There didn’t seem to be a real floor beneath the descending elevator platform, or they would’ve tried it on foot, but the lift seemed to be lowering by grooves cut into either side of the darkness, by some mechanism that Axel couldn’t begin to guess at. Another marvel of RoboCy technology. “... twenty seconds to reach ...” Axel started to shake, the tension running through his muscles, tightening them, making it hard to breathe. What was safe distance? When that cool, inhuman voice reached zero, how long before the explosion?

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The train would have to be fast. And they had ten seconds left to get to it, as the strange elevator continued its smooth, unhurried trek down into the dark. “... Three. Two. One. Safe distance minimum now required. Self-destruct will occur in five minutes. There are now five minutes until detonation.” “Are we gonna make it?” Skate breathed. Axel gulped. “I sure hope so, buddy. I sure hope so…” For a moment, they stood in a tense silence. “There are now four minutes until detonation...” Shit shit shit! Just when he thought he might have a stroke from the frustration, the elevator had finally stopped. Axel jerked at the handle to a thick metal door, tensing himself to run... and the door opened into one wall of a passage, a sterile concrete corridor lit by flickering overhead bars. And there were no signs telling them which way to go. “Which way?” Skate shouted, growing desperate. “ Left or right?” Axel knew that the few seconds in which they hesitated could cost them their lives – if they still had any chance at all. He’d heard once that when faced with a choice, most people instinctively turned in the direction of their dominant hand. Figuring his instinct would be wrong in this case, he decided to go the other way. “Left,” he said. They ran, their boots pounding the floor, wondering if they should even bother. Max cursed, roaring through pain, willing himself to go on no matter how much his body told him to rest now. “Come on! Faster!” Axel roared.

***

They’d gone the wrong way. The various twists and turns in the cold and empty facility had led them to a storage room – a dead end. “There are now three minutes until detonation.” Axel turned back, leading Skate and Max the way they’d come, and with what felt like the very last of his strength, forced himself into a stumbling run. He was too exhausted to feel disappointed, to worry about his impending death, to wish that things were different; it took all of his energy just to keep moving. God knew how Max and Skate had managed to come this far with the injuries they’d sustained. Max was still losing blood. They’d make it or they wouldn’t; either way, Axel didn’t think he’d be too surprised.

***

“... two minutes until...” Axel pushed himself to go faster, the metallic tunnel a blur of grey that spun past his aching, breathless perception. He’d lost all track of the turns and twists of the corridor and was rapidly losing hope, a voice in the back of his mind telling him that maybe it would be best to stop, to sit and rest and then he heard it, and that tiny, despairing whisper was obliterated by the sound.

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The sound of heavy machinery stirring to life, somewhere up ahead. Not far ahead. “Train!” Max croaked. Faster, legs distant, rubbery, lungs working, heart pounding – one way or another, it was almost over. *** A small, tinny version of the intercom voice and alarms blared out of the tiny room’s control board. “There are two minutes until detonation.” Blaze was hitting buttons, throwing switches, her attention fixed on the console. A giant mechanical hum suddenly enveloped them, a growing, whining rumble that made Blaze grit her teeth; Adam couldn’t tell if it was a smile, but he smiled himself as he felt the train lurch and start to move, taking them away from the platform. “Thank Christ,” he muttered. Blaze turned, saw Adam standing behind her, and she tried to smile. Adam rested one hand on Blaze’s shoulder, but didn't say anything – so Blaze didn’t either, waiting to see what would happen. The train started to go faster, sliding past dimly lit halls and platforms, the tunnel in front of them dark and empty. Blaze let the warmth of Adam’s hand remind her that they were friends, that whatever happened, Adam was her friend... and suddenly she saw three men stumble into view ahead on the left, and then the train was gliding past them, their eyes wide and searching, desperation in their dirty faces. “Blaze!” “I see them!” Blaze turned and ran out of the booth, her footsteps clattering through the metal train car, sprinting to the door. She hit the control and the door slid open, the booming, grinding sounds of the subway billowing into the closed space. “Axel!” she screamed. “Hurry!” She jerked back suddenly, a wall sliding by, and spun around looking desperate. After another second she turned back and closed the door. “Did they make it?” Adam asked, realising that Blaze couldn’t possibly know, even as the words came out of her mouth. Adam came to her and put an arm around her, as the train kept going faster and her face knotted with worry… … and the voice in the intercom told them they had one minute left… … and the door in the back of the car opened. In stumbled Axel, his hair matted with dark, dried goo, his eyes bright and blue in a mask of dirt, followed closely by Skate and Max, wrapped with shredded, stained bandages. “Full throttle!” Axel shouted; Blaze nodded, and Axel blew out a heavy breath. He staggered toward them, the train shifting back and forth, speeding now, rocketing through the tunnel. He put his arm around Blaze, and Blaze hugged him tightly, kissed him longingly on the lips. “I thought you were dead…” Blaze whispered. “Not yet,” he said. “... thirty seconds until detonation. Twenty-nine ... twenty-eight...” The woman’s voice kept counting down, the numbers seeming to come twice as fast as they should, and Blaze buried her face in Axel’s chest. She could hear

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Axel’s heart pounding, and she hugged him tighter, thinking that this could be their last moment together… “... five. Four. Three. Two. One. Sequence complete. Detonation.” For a second, there was no sound at all. The alarms had finally stopped, and the clattering movement of the racing train was all there was to hear and then there was an explosion, a muffled sound, a shoomp sound that kept going, growing, becoming huge. Blaze closed her eyes and the train rocked suddenly, horribly, and they were all thrown to the metal floor as bright, burning light flickered through the window, as the sounds of a car crash blasted all around them, heavy thumps raining over the roof and the train kept going. It kept going, and the light went away, and they weren’t dead. The blinding flash dissipated, faded, and Axel felt the tension leaking out of his body. He rolled onto his side, and saw Blaze sitting up, reaching for his hand again. “Okay?” Axel asked her, and she nodded. Both of them turned to look at the others, and saw their faces expressing the exact same thing they felt – shock, exhaustion, disbelief, hope. “That was fucking close to the mark,” Skate said. Adam sighed, nodding. “Is everybody okay? Nothing broken?” Max grimaced. “I think one of my internal organs has been punctured. It’s difficult to tell. I’m in so much pain right now it’s unbelievable. I’m so tired. But if I fall asleep, I might not wake up again…” Axel took a deep breath, getting to his feet. “As soon as we’re outta here, we’ll head straight to the nearest hospital. Don’t worry. Max. We’ll get you fixed up, I promise. Same goes for you Adam, and Skate. We’re going to make it now. Trust me.” For a few seconds, they just sat there, staring at one another, smiles fading all around. Axel dared to hope that it was really over, that they were leaving the terror behind. Again, he saw his feelings mirrored in front of him, in Blaze’s worried brow and Max’s tired eyes… ... and when they heard the distant squeal of metal coming from somewhere at the back of the train, he didn’t see any surprise. A rending, tearing screech followed by a heavy, somehow stealthy thump and then nothing. Should’ve known it isn’t over... “What was that?” Blaze whispered, the word almost lost in the gently clattering sound of the speeding train. “I don’t know, Blaze,” Axel said softly, and for the first time, he noticed that her left leg was ripped to shit, blood oozing from several ragged gashes; he’d been too amazed at his, at their narrow escape to see it before. “How about I go take a look?” Axel suggested. “I think I’m the only one left who isn’t injured in some way or another…” He cocked his shotgun and nodded toward Blaze’s leg. “You guys stay here,” he said. Blaze nodded, her face intent with purpose. “Be careful, Axel.” “I’ll be right back,” he said, and turned toward the back of the swaying train, praying that it was nothing at all and knowing better, as he raised the Remington and went to see.

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XXV

Axel opened the door, the sounds of the rolling train amplified for a second before it closed behind him. Blaze couldn’t see him enter the next car from her position on the floor, and in that moment she wished she’d gone with him; if there was something else on the train, none of them were safe. Don’t think like that, it’s nothing. It’s over – like it was over with Mr. X…? The second car was clear, the same wide-open space that Axel had entered the train by, all dusty steel and not much else. Whoever had designed the escape vehicle had obviously figured the RoboCy employees would have to be packed in like sardines. Just us five, though – and our stowaway… There was nothing to see, but Axel moved slowly nonetheless, carefully scanning the shadowy corners and steeling himself for whatever was in the last car. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be as bad as the Vehelits thing they had faced on level B4. The thought that the creature was seemingly indestructible was deeply unsettling, even obscene… He reached the back of the dim and rocking train car and peered through the door, pushing all other thoughts aside as he tried to make out anything at all in the last car. Darkness, and nothing else. Hell. Maybe there wasn’t anything to see, but he had to look. He felt his heart start to pound fresh adrenaline through his body, felt his weariness fall away. Nothing, it was surely nothing, but it felt bad. Wrong. Last thing, very last thing... He took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping into the loud, whipping breeze of the outside, holding on to the rail. The rattle of the train drowned out the thumping of his heart as he moved to the last car, opened the door, and stepped into darkness. Immediately, he raised the shotgun, all of his senses telling him to run as the door slid shut behind him. He reached back, slapping for a light switch. Darkness, but there was a powerful, familiar smell like bleach or chlorine, and there was the soft sound of wetness, of movement... No… impossible… A single bare bulb flickered on in the middle of the car as he found a button, and he thought for just a second that he’d lost his mind. Vehelits! The creature had somehow squeezed itself on board and now spanned the width of the car, its dark, slimy matter stretching to the ceiling. Its wet tentacles were extended out, attached to every part of the space in front of it—the ceiling, walls, and floor, pulling itself along like a giant, impossible slug. As Axel watched, the alien beast pulled itself forward, the dark limbs contracting, bringing the mass of the body a few feet ahead of where it had been a moment before. The thing roared, an alien sound. “Shit,” Axel muttered. How did you get here?

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Not crazy. He was seeing it, seeing the oily, moving colours of black and green and purple in its tentacles as it stretched out again, the viscous material latching to the metal of the car somehow, dragging the beast a few more feet ahead, and it would reach him pretty soon if he didn’t snap out of his surprised and disgusted stupor. Axel aimed into the giant hole of its mouth and pulled the trigger, pumping in another round, firing, pumping, firing... … and then the shotgun was empty, and the giant, glistening thing was, as expected, unharmed and still moving steadily forward. He didn’t know how to kill it, didn’t know if it were possible, if the rounds had even damaged it in the slightest. His mind raced for an answer, for a solution that would end the terrible life of the experimental monster. He could detach the last car, fire through the pins and chains that held it together, if he could find the locking mechanism... … but it would still be alive. Still living in the blackness of the tunnel, free to escape. The beast inched forward, lashing a tentacle at him then, and Axel dodged and reached back for the door control. He’d have to try unhooking the cars, there was no other choice… He hesitated, but decided that there was no other option. He ran back the way he’d came, to the connecting chain between cars, squinting in the windy darkness, searching for the lock. There! He unholstered his Magnum and pointed it at the chain, at the clamp, blinking sweat out of his eyes, daring a glance back at Vehelits’ impossible mass. It was closing fast. Careful aim, and... Blam! Blam! Blam! The effect was immediate and total, the heavy rounds piercing the rusted lock - and a hissing, screaming whine poured from the stressed metal. Sparks flew, and the rear car detached, beginning to inch its way slowly back from the front two cars, which continued to charge on at full throttle. Vehelits screamed like nothing on Earth, like the howl of something evil and insane. Without hesitating, Axel jumped for the second car, landing heavily on his shoulder, just in time before the rear car began to lose pace quickly. He turned back, and watched as the car disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel behind him, with Vehelits along with it. Axel watched it for a few moments, catching his breath, thinking about nothing at all, and finally he turned to join the others, to tell them it was over. “I want a raise,” Axel said to no one in particular, and couldn’t help the grin that broke across his face, a tired, sunny grin that faded quickly… but for the few seconds he wore it, Axel felt better than he had in a very long time. They’d done it – against all odds, the mission was a complete success. Back in the front car, he found a jumpsuit in a storage locker that he tore into pieces and used to bind up Blaze’s leg. All he said was that they were safe now, and Blaze snuggled into his arms, not asking any questions. There was nothing to say, at least not for a little while. The important thing was that they were alive, on a train thundering through the dark to safety – and from somewhere not far ahead, a soft light came filtering in, coming through the window in the control booth, and Blaze thought it looked very much like morning. “There’s light!” Skate grinned, and whooped with delight. “We made it!”

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As they emerged from the tunnel into the light of day, Axel’s satellite phone jumped to life: “Firestorm! Firestorm, this is Murphy! Do you read? Over.” Axel took a deep breath and licked his lips, nodding to himself. He unclipped the satellite phone from his hip and placed it to his mouth, hitting the transmit button. “Loud and clear, Murphy. Man, it’s good to hear your voice. Mission successful. Immediate evac required, we have a medical emergency here. Over.” “Copy that. I’ll set down at the end of the railway line.”

*** The private jet lifted up and away, a little jerky at first, but Murphy quickly found his balance. The first streaks of real light were swelling into the eastern sky as the doomed facility fell behind them. It seemed so strange to finally be on their way. “Candice is dead,” Blaze said, her voice cool and clear over the headset. It was the first thing she’d said since they’d taken off. “She didn’t make it. I’m sorry, Murphy.” “That’s a real shame. I loved her like a daughter,” Murphy replied, and meant it. They fell into silence again, Murphy content to just fly for the moment, giving them a chance to recover. They looked like shit, dog-tired and wanting to get as far away from this place as possible. He didn’t blame them. After a moment, Blaze reached across and placed her hand over Axel’s. He nodded at her. Words weren’t necessary. Empathically, they knew exactly what each other was feeling. Axel glanced at Max, Skate and Adam, and they nodded at him too. Safe at last. Blaze held Axel’s hand as the sun inched slowly up over the horizon, turning the sky magnificent shades of pink and gray and lemon yellow. It was a lovely sight, and Blaze was thankful she had the chance to appreciate such a thing once again. Neither of them spoke as the sun continued to rise, as the miles flew beneath them, forests and farms and empty roads appearing fresh and bright in the gently warming light.

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EPILOGUE

Washington D.C. January 10th

After two full days of recovery and relaxation at an intensive care clinic in Germany, Firestorm had been given a clean bill of health, and were now finally coming home to the United States of America to face the music. Axel Stone stared at the view from the window as the private jet banked to the left, preparing for its approach at Baltimore-Washington International Airport. Down below, the runway was surrounded by dozens of police cruisers with their siren lights flashing, FBI enforcer vans with teams mulling about, barking orders. There were also a number of unmarked black sedans, but Axel couldn’t tell who they belonged to. To make matters worse, news of Firestorm’s return had evidently made its way to the media, judging by the huge crowd of photographers and newscasters trying to cram their way past the police barricade. This was going to be interesting. “That’s quite a welcoming committee,” Max Hatchett observed, from where he sat two rows behind Axel. “Indeed.” Axel took a deep breath, wondering what was going to happen. “We’re going to jail,” Skate breathed. “I just know it.” After another few minutes, the jet landed on the tarmac successfully with a high-pitched squeal of rubber, and a deep rumble from the engines which slowly calmed as Murphy pulled back on the throttle. “Okay guys, we’re here,” Murphy called over the intercom. “I’ll meet you at the pressure door.” Blaze unbuckled her seat belt and turned to look at Axel, a look of concern on her face. She sighed. “Time to face the music.” Axel nodded, but didn’t say anything. Once the door was open and the passenger stairs connected from the tarmac, the team left the jet resignedly, straight into the crowd of law enforcement officials at the bottom of the stairs who had swamped the jet on its arrival. Immediately a group of black-suited officials wearing dark sunglasses took Axel by the arm and slapped handcuffs on his wrist. “Axel Stone,” one of them said in a bland, apathetic tone. “You’re under arrest.” “On what charge?” Axel blurted, unable to pull away from the men. His eyes darted to the police officers around him, and they were all looking at him. “Yeah, what charge?” Blaze insisted. “He hasn’t done anything!” “Conspiracy to commit murder and terrorist kidnapping,” the black-suit said. “We have video footage which clearly identifies you as the culprit, Mr. Stone. We also have a Federal warrant, so don’t try to resist us.” “Hey, you’ve got the wrong guy,” Axel said. “This is bullshit!” “Right now we just want to ask you a few questions,” the man said. “Come

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with us please, Mr. Stone.” “You can’t do this!” Axel roared, struggling. “You can talk to us, or you can talk to the CIA.” Axel swallowed dryly. The CIA? What the hell kind of trouble was he in here? “Go with them, Axel,” Blaze told him, nodding. “It’ll be alright. We’ll get you out of this mess.” Axel sighed, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll go.” He kept his face lowered then, as the black-suited men led him away into one of the unmarked black sedans. Before Blaze and the others could say anything, they found themselves surrounded by FBI agents. “What’s going on here?” Murphy insisted. One of them stepped forward. Murphy recognised him as Agent Gorman. “Agent Murphy, you’re in a lot of trouble for disobeying orders,” Gorman was saying. “The rest of Firestorm, including yourself, is to be taken into custody pending an official review of your actions over the past few days. There will be a court hearing later on this afternoon in the company of the President himself to decide what will happen to you all. So please, step this way.” Murphy, Blaze, Adam, Max and Skate followed, bewildered and uncertain about what would happen next.

*** The atmosphere in the courtroom was sombre, hushed by contrast. The seating galleries were filled largely by FBI and Interpol personnel, with some White House officials who had an interest in Firestorm’s operation. There were some coughs from the assembled guests, but for the most part, everyone was silent. A side entry door whooshed open, and President Hayes and his advisors entered the room soberly, taking their places. The President stepped up to the central podium immediately, and looked into the front row. “Bring in the accused.” From a door on the opposite side of the room, a solemn-looking group in smart clothing entered… Blaze, Adam, Skate, Max and Murphy. They walked silently past the front row where the President’s Chief of Staff and General Petrov were watching them. The audience murmured as they took their place on the Seal of the President of the United States emblazoned on the marble-polished floor. A moment later, the President looked down at them from the podium, and took a deep breath. “The charges and specifications are: Conspiracy; Theft of military property; willful destruction of military property, specifically a Sikorsky S-76T helicopter, the unlawful death of an FBI agent, and finally, disobeying direct orders of the Interpol Commander during a time of international crisis, at the risk of nuclear war... Blaze Fielding, how do you plead?” Blaze licked her lips, feeling great shame. “On behalf of all of us, Mr. President, I am authorised to plead guilty.” President Hayes nodded. “So entered. Hear now the sentence of this court…” He cleared his throat, and a slight smile played over his lips. “Because of certain… mitigating circumstances, all charges but one are summarily dismissed…” There was a buzz through the crowd. Blaze couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “The remaining charge, disobeying orders during a time of crisis, is

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directed solely at Blaze Fielding, as leader of the group.” Blaze looked up, taking a deep breath. “Blaze, I’m sure that someone in your position will recognise the necessity of keeping discipline in any chain of command, especially where military and law enforcement agencies are concerned.” “I do, sir.” “Blaze Fielding. Because the consequences of your decisions in this matter have narrowly averted a nuclear war and saved the lives of billions of people, it is the judgement of this hearing that you be issued a fine of three million, five hundred thousand dollars, payable immediately, instead of receiving a prison sentence, as would usually be the case. Your actions have proven that whilst renegade, you are more than capable of protecting this country against innumerable threats from inside and out, and for that reason, you will be keeping your job as the head of the Firestorm detective agency. Consequently, you will be requested to continue the duties for which you have repeatedly demonstrated unswerving ability.” Blaze couldn’t help but grin. This was a fantastic result. The reaction from the assembled guests was overwhelming: an eruption of congratulatory applause. The President gavelled for order. Continuing, he said, “Blaze, you and your team have saved this country from its own short-sightedness... and the world is again in your debt…” With those words, the tide broke loose: everyone in the great hall rose to a standing ovation for Blaze and the team. She smiled and waved to the applauding crowd, but at that moment, all she could think about was her fiancée. What about Axel? What will happen to him? For the moment, there was no answer.

*** The sun was sinking on the horizon. Adam went to stand beside Blaze, putting one arm around her back. Together they stood at a large window inside the White House, looking out over the South Lawn. It was getting late. There was a new bond between the two of them now, a new understanding. Blaze was thinking about Axel; both of them worried about the uncertain and newly complicated future ahead of them. “Dreadnought and the Shadow Alliance are defeated,” Adam whispered, “but it feels like such a small victory…” Blaze nodded. “A small victory in a much larger campaign. I worry about Axel, you know. Something just isn’t right about his arrest.” “I know,” Adam said. “There’s definitely something more sinister going on…” “One thing is for sure,” Blaze whispered. “These… Syndicate Wars… have only just begun…”

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BOOK VI

FACE OF THE DRAGON

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Cast of characters

Mr. X

George Xetheus was born in Central America in 1950, the son of a wealthy landowner and a shrew. He spent his early childhood in Columbia, where he learned much about the international drugs trade, before joining the US Army at his father’s urging in 1966 to fight in the Vietnam War. Captured behind enemy lines in 1970, Xetheus was tortured repeatedly over a period of many months, but he would not divulge any information to the enemy. He eventually managed to escape, though at great cost to his sanity. He was forced to kill an entire squad of Viet-Cong with his bare hands, in a gruesome night of desperate survival. No matter how much further his career in the US Military could have gone over the years, his loyalty to that nation truly ended that night, when he was forced into that brutal action. Near death, he crawled miles through the jungle to reach safety. No-one had bothered to rescue him. Upon his return to the United States in 1972, he was hailed a war hero and decorated with a variety of medals for his bravery and courage. But he was a changed man. He was not the same George Xetheus who had gone out to fight in the war. His experiences had moulded him into a new man with a new purpose, and new ideals. Slowly assembling an enormous wealth over the following decade, somewhere in the late seventies or early eighties Xetheus began and completed an extensive plan of subversion. By 1985 he had earned a seat in the US Senate, by rigging an election in Los Angeles. By 1986, his independent military body ‘The Syndicate’ finally emerged from the legal loopholes and threats of violence tying up the so-called ‘dark side’ of the White House. Xetheus’ influence now extended to the very highest levels of government, and the President himself was just a pawn in his game. The Syndicate grew into a vast criminal network trafficking drugs and arms around the world, with seedy business dealings taking place with other notorious groups like the Zeed. This almost global power had earned Xetheus the pseudonym “Mr. X”. With this much power, he was basically free to go ahead and do whatever he wanted behind everyone’s backs, and they would be none the wiser. The Syndicate was X’s own small mercenary country, a place for disillusioned soldiers such as himself to find work in what they did best without swearing fealty to a government that would dishonour them. He planned a revolution to overthrow all the governments of the world and usher in a New Age for humanity. The Syndicate attracted all kinds of criminals and street fighters to its cause, from all walks of life, built for warriors in a world where they were slowly becoming unwanted. In 1989, X attended a White House dinner where he met Dr. Henry Dahm, a world renowned cyberneticist. A year later, X employed Dahm to head-up the newly

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formed RoboCy Corporation, and used billions of dollars from the Treasury to begin pioneering work on neural nets and advanced computer systems. X worked closely with Dahm during the early nineties as they developed their own style of technology. But it was still far from the advanced technology X wanted to see. In 1996, after a vacation to the Galapagos islands, X arranged for the destruction of a community of villagers on Cocos Island (somewhere no-one would notice) and had their bodies collected and sent directly to RoboCy labs. The brains of the dead villagers would be used in the neural net research, X surmised. X’s goal was to replicate the neural functioning of the human brain, and the only way to do that was by having real specimens from which to base their study, theory and analysis. Mr. X had no idea that one of the villagers, a three-year-old girl, had actually survived the slaughter and escaped into the jungle. The experiments continued in earnest over the next several years. In 2005, X encountered a young soldier outside a civic court building by the name of Leon Shiva who had just been court-marshalled for opening fire on unarmed civilians in Iraq. He was to serve a jail sentence. X found Shiva’s attitude and personality was exactly what he was looking for in a right-hand man, so he had the charges ‘dropped’ and employed him to the Syndicate. He had Shiva oversee a variety of unethical experiments, Project X, Project Homo Superior, amongst others. A year later, Shiva reported to X that a girl named ‘Blaze Fielding’ had apparently survived the destruction of the South American village, and had survived alone for all this time in the jungle, but was currently in a psychiatric institution. Shiva stressed the importance of a test subject in the Homo Superior project, and emphasised how this Blaze girl fitted the bill perfectly. X agreed, and signed an order to keep her hospitalised indefinitely while Shiva and Jerrin carried out the research, with occasional help from Dahm. By the end of the 2000’s, The Syndicate’s research into neural net technology had progressed leaps and bounds, and they were making significant progress into the field of cybernetic replication. RoboCy Corporation had expanded considerably and employed thousands of scientists across the globe. Meanwhile, X’s control over the city of Los Angeles was reaching intolerable levels, with street crime rampant. Most of the LAPD was under his control, including Chief O’Hara, the head of the department, who joined the Syndicate payroll in 2013. Finally, in 2014, there was a huge breakthrough in Project X research, with the completion of the Robot X prototype – a robotic duplicate of Mr. X. X wanted to use the robot to appear in public, and control it remotely, largely as a security precaution in case any ignorant fool tried to assassinate him. But the working prototype also meant that others could be constructed, and it was X’s dream to have an entire army of these robots, programmed to do his bidding, fight, and kill for him without question. In 2015, it came to X’s attention that the X Robot prototype had been destroyed by none other than Blaze Fielding, who’d been ‘rescued’ from the hospital by some police officer trying to expose the Syndicate. It was a matter of concern for X, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He made the appropriate ‘payments’ to Chief O’Hara to do absolutely nothing about it. Meanwhile he authorised Shiva to go ahead with mass production of the X Robot line, using the potent amphetamine ‘Fire’ as a combat-enhancing drug, after a somewhat successful demonstration at their marine base. Then, he arranged for Adam Hunter to be kidnapped and held on the Island

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Research Base, as bait to draw in Blaze Fielding, his renegade asset, as well as the punk cop who didn’t know what he was dealing with, to him. Unfortunately for X, Axel and Blaze managed to rescue Adam, and they destroyed the Island Base, along with the vast majority of his X-Robots. During the battle, X was decapitated, but during the ensuing chaos he was rescued by RoboCy scientists before brain death could occur. Thanks to Dr. Dahm, he was able to survive, if only as a brain in a vat, a mere shadow of his former self. Blaze’s victory that day had exposed Mr. X and the Syndicate to the world, and he was assumed dead. There was a political upheaval in the White House, the corrupt President was impeached and a new one elected. Separated from his body and forever trapped without physical sensation, X re-asserted his control over the Syndicate (after a brief period under Shiva’s control), and devoted all his energies into the new Project Y, which would succeed where Project X had failed, as well as provide Mr. X with a new body to take over the world, an unstoppable, colossal giant known as Robot Y. Mr. X planned a global disaster. Using his considerable wealth and connections, his Syndicate began smuggling Laxine, the “Devil Atom”, and used it to build a stock of nuclear weapons. By 2017, the Syndicate had fully recovered from the destruction of the Project X facility. X ordered Shiva to kill Axel and Blaze for good to get them out of his way, while his insiders in the Russian military took care of the capture of General Ivan Petrov at the International Law Enforcement Summit in Paris. The aim was to replicate the General using Robot X technology and replace him, in order to stir up an international nuclear emergency – X’s next big move in the game was the complete destruction of Wood Oak City. Shiva, however, failed to carry out X’s orders twice, allowing Blaze Fielding to slip through his fingers. As a result, she and her team were able to rescue General Petrov and stop the robot duplicate before he could stir up any major political trouble. To make matters worse, Blaze Fielding’s genetic abilities were maturing, and she hadn’t undergone the vital memory wipe procedure to complete her transition into a true Homo Superior warrior. Shiva’s failure angered X to the core, but X spared his life to help defend the Project Y facility from the inevitable attack from the US military. Now that the Syndicate had been completely exposed to the world, it meant that Mr. X’s cover was blown far too early. When Axel, Blaze and their team finally came to confront X in his stasis chamber, he had turned completely insane. He attacked them with Robot Y, but was unable to defeat them. Mad with delusions of grandeur, X believed he could survive physical death – that Robot Y was the key to his victory. He died when his Syndicate Stronghold in the Nevada Desert exploded, destroying his stasis chamber.

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Leon Shiva

Leon Shiva was born in 1982, in the city of London, England, but spent most of his early life in Japan, where he was schooled in the ancient art of ninjitsu. His father was a ninjitsu master who held a high ranking position in the Zeed group, and his mother was a Spanish actress, but she died when Shiva was just a small boy, so most of his time was spent with his father, training in ninjitsu’s many forms: Seishin-teki kyōyō (spiritual refinement) Taijutsu (unarmed combat) Ninja ken (sword fighting) Bōjutsu (stick and staff fighting) Shurikenjutsu (throwing blades) Sōjutsu (spear fighting) Naginatajutsu (naginata fighting) Kusarigama (chain and sickle weapon) Kayakujutsu (fire and explosives) Hensōjutsu (disguise and impersonation) Shinobi-iri (stealth and infiltration methods) Bajutsu (horsemanship) Sui-ren (training in water) Bōryaku (military strategy) Chōhō (espionage) Intonjutsu (escaping and concealment) In 1999, when Shiva was 17 years old, the family emigrated to the United States of America, and Shiva joined the Air Force in order to gain hands-on experience with the military mind. There, he excelled in everything. By 2002, he had earned the rank of Captain, and went on to fight in the war in Afghanistan, and later Iraq. Disillusioned by politics, Shiva grew increasingly antisocial during his war experiences, and in 2005, it culminated in an event that would end his career in the Air Force forever: firing upon unarmed civilians in Baghdad. He returned to the United States in disgrace and was court-marshalled. After the hearing, he met Mr. X, who immediately took to him and his views on life like a surrogate father. X offered Shiva a deal: Join the Syndicate, a secret organisation for people such as himself, as X’s right-hand man, and X would step in and ‘drop’ all the charges against him, freeing him from the system that didn’t want him anymore. Refuse, and he knows the alternative. Shiva was sceptical at first. How could this man, this senator, have so much power over the US courts? Still, he agreed to Mr. X’s proposal; he felt that the ‘revolution’ was something he could believe in, and sure enough, all of his legal problems ‘disappeared’ overnight. Shiva was told to lay low for a while, so he spent a number of months living at a ski chalet in Vermont, enjoying the nightlife and generally coming to terms with the new direction his life was heading in. Blinded by fear and anger, the twenty-two year old Leon Shiva failed to realise how easily he had played into Mr. X’s hands.

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Mr. X embodied the cause of the revolution and Shiva greatly respected the political power and connections Mr. X had built up in order to become a significant force to implement his designed changes for the world. When he was finally sworn in to the Syndicate Inner Circle in 2006, Shiva was given a position of power answerable only to Mr. X. He was given control of the gangs and their bosses, and became the Chairman of the Syndicate Oversight Committee that dealt with various unethical experiments, like Project X and Project Homo Superior. Later that same year, it came to Shiva’s attention that a young paranoid schizophrenic named ‘Blaze Fielding’ had recently been committed to Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital in Los Angeles. The girl had apparently survived in the jungle, living feral, for almost ten years, and it had driven her to kill – not as a murderer, but through necessity for survival. Shiva could immediately see the potential in the young girl’s case – she would make the perfect test subject for the Homo Superior project. Shiva spent a number of weeks studying the girl, finalising reports, before recommending to Mr. X that they go ahead with the research. X approved, and signed an order to keep Blaze Fielding hospitalised indefinitely, thereby authorising Shiva to oversee the Project with Simon Jerrin, who would pose as the girl’s M.O…. Two years later, in 2008, Shiva recruited a number of new criminals to the Syndicate’s cause. One of these new criminals was a young attractive woman named ‘Electra’. Electra was the owner of one of LA’s seedier nightclubs, a fighter who had originally made her name in the underground wrestling scene. Her good looks and personality were not lost upon such a soul as Leon Shiva – and they fell in love, frequently disappearing together at night to snort cocaine and make love. They kept their passionate affair a secret from all, and plotted to overthrow Mr. X and rule the Syndicate together in his place. Between 2010 and 2014, most of Shiva’s time was being spent travelling between Edgemont Hospital, the cloning facility in Philadelphia, and the Research Facility on Mr. X’s island. He played a major role in the development of the Robot X prototype, all the while negotiating with newer gangs to join the Syndicate’s growing ranks. In 2015, word reached Shiva’s ears that Blaze Fielding had been ‘rescued’ from Edgemont by a renegade cop, and they’d managed to destroy Robot X, killing Simon Jerrin along the way. According to various Homo Superior scientists screaming at him down the phone, the presence of Triazolam in Fielding’s blood meant that she was a threat that could not be underestimated, as long as she went without the memory wipe to bring her under their complete control. Intrigued by this whole series of events, Shiva spent a week on the Island Base developing Robot X2, fuelled with the same chemical, “Fire”, being used in the Homo Superior experiment. Sure enough, the results were impressive, and X authorised him to go ahead and mass produce the X Robot line, using this drug as a fuel. Meanwhile, X set a trap for Axel and Blaze, and lured them to the Island Base. However, things soon turned sour – the renegades escaped, destroying the entire facility and over 150 expensive X-Robots along with it. During the confusion, Shiva witnessed one of the robots kill Mr. X by chopping his head off, forcing Shiva to assume control of the Syndicate before things could get out of hand. But he had

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grossly underestimated the resolve of Axel and Blaze, and was very nearly killed in the explosion that destroyed the base. After X’s ‘death’ Shiva was in control of the Syndicate for a brief time during 2016, but after Dr. Dahm restored X to life, X reclaimed the Syndicate and Shiva once again became the underling, doing X’s bidding. The new Project Y became X’s central goal, overshadowing the original plans for a ‘revolution’, a plan that Shiva still held dear. Shiva became disillusioned with X. As far as Shiva was concerned, the Mr. X he knew was dead…had died back on the island research facility. The monstrosity that existed now was just an insane shadow of that man, a shadow obsessed with its own immortality… In 2017, Shiva was tasked to kill Blaze Fielding and her team in order to keep them ‘out of the picture for good’, but he failed to do this on multiple occasions. As a result, in one fateful encounter at the Syndicate Inner Sanctum building, his consort Electra was killed by Axel Stone. Electra’s death was a considerable blow to Shiva; it destroyed all his dreams and hopes for the future. Indeed, it was her death that sent Shiva into an irreversible psychosis. Twisted by anger and hatred, he confronted the team of renegades at the Syndicate Stronghold in the Nevada Desert, but again failed to stop them, and he was almost killed when Blaze Fielding opened fire on him with an M-16 assault rifle, shredding his entire lower body in a gruesome shower of blood. Near death, Shiva managed to escape the Project Y facility before it was destroyed, and was able to survive his grievous wounds through the use of an artificial lower body, which was grafted onto him during a delicate twelve-hour operation at a top secret Syndicate facility. Mr. X was killed during the Project Y incident, and the Syndicate was very nearly destroyed along with him. But Shiva, still twisted and bitter from his experiences, made a swift move for domination, assuming control of the organisation and promising to continue pushing forth towards the promise of Mr. X’s original ‘revolution’. He entered into a shadowy alliance with a variety of international crime syndicates, including ‘Neo Zeed’, using the nuclear weapons left over from the Project Y incident as his bargaining chip in a bid to rule them all. This new alliance was known as “The New Syndicate”. In 2018, Shiva was responsible for the complete destruction of the city of London, England, and plunging the world into a new era of darkness on a scale never seen before. His vision was to destroy all major cities on the planet, and then rule the world once anarchy had broken out, as its new Emperor, Shiva the Great. However, his old enemies Blaze Fielding, Axel Stone and co. managed to track him down to the Bank of China Tower in Hong Kong. After a final confrontation on the 70th floor, Shiva was killed after being knocked from the building’s edge, and falling to his doom. Defiant to the end, Shiva did indeed go mad, ultimately a victim of the horror of Mr. X’s Syndicate.

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Axel Stone

Axel Tyler Stone was born in Long Beach, California, in 1992. His parents owned a martial arts dōjō there, and as a child he learned a variety of different fighting styles. By the age of 6 he was already a third-degree black belt in karate. A natural leader, Axel excelled in his academic studies as well as his fighting talent, a shining example of moral fibre, the envy of his peers. In 1999, he awoke one night to find the family dōjō on fire. Trapped in his second floor bedroom by a sheer wall of flame, young Axel was forced to jump from the window, breaking an ankle upon landing. With a strength born of terror, somehow Axel managed to crawl his way back into the burning building to find his mother, and help her to safety…but he was too late to save his father. The dōjō collapsed in on itself, the whole thing a total blaze. Axel blamed himself for his father’s death. He hadn’t been quick enough, or strong enough to save him. What a fool he was! A local gang, the ‘Blue Swan’ had been responsible. It seemed Axel’s father had some unpaid debts to the criminal group, and they’d killed him after he couldn’t repay them, but due to a lack of evidence, the case could not be properly solved, or brought to justice. In 2000, Axel moved to Los Angeles with his mother to start afresh, and try to put the horrible events of the past behind them. But Axel couldn’t let it rest….he could not just sit by while the scum responsible for killing his dad walked free on the streets. He vowed that one day he would become a police officer, and would then do everything in his power to bring ‘Blue Swan’ to justice… At age 11, Axel started attending Los Angeles High School, and became friends with fellow student Max Hatchett, who was five years older than him. Axel looked up to Max, the two were like brothers, until Max graduated from high school and went into the underground wrestling scene. In 2008, Axel graduated from high school with top marks and started attending college and police training classes, whilst hanging around the wrestling arenas with Max in his spare time, attending parties and gigs with other friends from high school. By now, Max Hatchett’s wrestling victories had earned himself the nickname, “The Crusher”, and Axel went on a date with his first girlfriend to watch his friend defeat Abadede in a ten-round battle of titans. Soon after Axel’s 18th birthday, he joined the LAPD as a fully trained police officer. There he met Adam Hunter, his first partner on the force, another rookie looking to prove himself, just as he was. The two bonded well and soon became good friends, solving a number of murders and tracing links to a mysterious syndicate that seemed to be operating within the city. In 2012, Axel and Adam managed to track down ‘Blue Swan’, the elusive criminal group responsible for the death of Axel’s father. In a violent shoot-out, they confronted the leader of the group and arrested him. Finally, Axel could find some peace within himself, having brought them to justice. Blue Swan was finished. The subsequent interrogation of their ringleader revealed some interesting clues: it turned out Blue Swan was part of this mysterious ‘syndicate’ they’d been hearing about, and corruption in the highest levels of government had given them immunity.

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Over the next three years, Axel and Adam worked hard, trying to expose the Syndicate. But at every turn, they found any evidence they came across quickly disposed of, informants disappearing in the dead of night without a trace. Something really sinister was going on, government agents were involved and there was some kind of criminal, hidden element at work. In 2015, their investigations into corruption at Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital led them to the file of one Blaze Fielding, a girl who had been sectioned ten years earlier for paranoid schizophrenia. The file contained a number of discrepancies regarding the girl’s history and medication course. Some of the figures didn’t seem to add up. Further investigation into the matter revealed that Blaze Fielding had filed an official complaint about being raped, but the issue was dismissed all too readily. Hearings cancelled repeatedly, orders being changed… something was amiss… Axel and Adam approached their superior, Chief O’Hara, regarding the issue, but he was quick to dismiss it. Unable to put this one down (it reeked of conspiracy) they decided to take matters into their own hands and break Blaze out of the hospital. Together, the team managed to uncover evidence that a vicious Syndicate was indeed at work, and that Blaze was being kept hospitalised against her will under orders from the mysterious ‘Mr. X’, for reasons unknown. Axel was immediately attracted to Blaze, and the two soon fell in love, in the midst of various agencies trying to hunt them down and kill them. It was all Mr. X, of course – a man who they think they kill when they defeat Robot X at a government building in LA. After clearing Blaze’s name and earning her freedom, she was allowed to join the police force as a special officer under Axel’s tutelage, pending a variety of training programs. A few days into her enrolment, however, Adam Hunter went missing, and Axel and Blaze were once again thrown into the shadowy world of the Syndicate – an organisation they believed they had destroyed. The truth was far worse – Mr. X was alive, and the Syndicate was constructing an entire army of these XRobots on an Island Base somewhere off the west coast. Axel turned to his old friend, Max Hatchett, for help. Max was now the owner of a pharmaceutical company in the city, ‘Neo Pharm’, which had recently been bought out by the Syndicate. Max allowed Axel and Blaze to sneak aboard a cargo ship headed for the island, but they were captured by Leon Shiva in the ensuing struggle and taken to Mr. X as prisoners. Axel and Blaze made love that night in their cell, fearing it would be the last time either of them could be complete again… Reunited with Adam Hunter, Axel eventually took charge of the situation on the island and instigated a revolt amongst some of Mr. X’s less loyal personnel when the man was off-base with Shiva. But the Syndicate Boss returned, and set loose the X-Robots, urging them to kill. Axel, Adam and Blaze battled their way through dozens of the insane robots to escape the base in a jetship, before turning back and destroying it with hellfire missiles. Axel and the others thought they had won, that they had defeated Mr. X and saved the city. After the whole affair, they celebrated in Las Vegas for a few nights, and then returned to the city. In 2016, Axel moved into a house in Beverley Hills, with Blaze, who was now his full fledged partner. Together they continued to work at bringing criminals to justice. A year later, they were formally requested to attend the International Police Summit in Paris as representatives of their department, where General Petrov, the highest ranking member of the US Army, was guest speaker. However, their flight was

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hijacked by Leon Shiva, and Axel had to take swift action to avoid an explosive death high in the Frozen Arctic. Meanwhile, Petrov was kidnapped by Syndicate agents, and a nuclear bomb detonated in Wood Oak City. It soon became clear that the Syndicate had not yet been defeated, that Mr. X had survived the explosion on the island and was now trying to take over the world through nuclear terrorism and Machiavellian political plotting. In fact, his reach extended to a level far beyond anything Axel had previously thought – Chief O’Hara himself was on the Syndicate payroll, and had known about the plot to hijack Axel’s flight to Paris. Outraged at the LAPD’s corruption, Axel and Blaze quit the force in order to tackle the elusive Syndicate on their own. They joined forces with Dr. Zan, a former Syndicate researcher, and together with Adam, Skate (Adam’s kid-brother), and Max, the team tracked down General Petrov and rescued him, then exposed Mr. X’s plot to the world’s media. After a priority meeting with the US President in the Oval Office, Axel and the others tracked Mr. X to the Syndicate Stronghold in the Nevada Desert. There, they saw the full extent of Mr. X’s insane plot: Robot Y. The explosion in the desert that day destroyed the Project Y facility, and ended the life of Mr. X once and for all. But Axel couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow…it wasn’t over yet…. Axel, as well as the other members of his team, became famous during the so called ‘Project Y incident’. They had saved the world from a grisly and unnecessary fate. In 2018, Axel was asked to personally oversee the restructuring of the LAPD, after Chief O’Hara was found guilty of treason for his involvement with the Syndicate. He then took a job as a bodyguard, assigned to protect the Governor of California. Meanwhile, in his personal life, things weren’t going too well with Blaze, and the couple split; Blaze went to live in Chicago where she’d found work as a high-profile model. Later that year, Axel received disturbing news from Adam, who was now an FBI agent: Blaze was being held hostage by Dr. Zan, who had been reprogrammed. Axel led his old team to confront Zan and rescue Blaze, and they were forced to kill him. Subsequent investigations revealed that Leon Shiva, X’s right-hand man, was alive and well, and had rallied the remaining forces of his organisation into a new international alliance called “The New Syndicate”, and was still striving to achieve X’s dream of a revolution. Pissed off at Shiva’s constant ability to avoid death, Axel vowed to take down this New Syndicate for good, and the team joined forces with Joe Musashi, a Japanese warrior hunting down Neo Zeed, to track down their old enemy. At Zan’s funeral a few days later, Axel and Blaze were attacked by mature Homo Superior clones, and after defeating them traced them to their source - a Syndicate Cloning Facility in Philadelphia. Axel was shocked at the implications of the whole thing…he had been totally unprepared, even after all he’d experienced so far, for what the Syndicate had really been up to. The Homo Superior clones were advanced beings with extraordinary powers, and confronting them tested Axel’s bravery to the core. Using data downloaded from lab computers, they finally managed to track down the New Syndicate’s high council, which was operating in Hong Kong. That night, Axel and Blaze resolved their differences and went to bed again.

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On the 70th floor of the Bank of China Tower, Axel and his team confronted Shiva and defeated him, ending his reign of criminal terror that had seen the destruction of London, for good. After that final confrontation, the many gangs that made up the New Syndicate became fragmented, and started to war amongst themselves. Splinter groups started to form, with different criminals vying for power. But without Shiva, their dreams of becoming a coherent, international empire of crime that ruled over an anarchistic populace were crushed. In the midst of this criminal turmoil, Axel proposed to his lover, Blaze Fielding, with a diamond ring. She agreed to be his wife. In 2018, Blaze Fielding formed a detective agency to deal with the Syndicate Remnant, and Axel joined up as a full-time operative, working closely with his friends to bring the many gangs and Syndicate councillors that were still out there to justice. The three year period of 2018-2020 is now known as the “Syndicate Wars”. Since then, the number of gangs remaining has greatly reduced, but the fight goes on… Axel Stone remains as dedicated as ever to his love, Blaze Fielding, and will risk anything, even his life…on the Streets of Rage…

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Adam Hunter

Adam Hunter was born in Chicago, Illinois, in 1992, where he spent his early life. He never knew his father, who had split and left his mother with nothing before Adam was even born. Growing up on the poorer side of town, in an area notorious for gangland murders and drugs, gave young Adam a hardened edge. In 1997, when Adam was 5 years old, his mother announced to him that she’d had a one night stand and was now pregnant with a second child. She gave birth to Eddie Hunter in 1998, having been left in the lurch yet again by the father. Soon after she went into a vicious downward spiral of self loathing and started doing crack. Adam instinctively wanted to protect his younger brother, to try to be the man of the house and help his mother change her ways. During his high school years, he was relieved when she finally found a partner who cared for her, and got married. In 2008, after graduating from high school, Adam decided he wanted to become a police officer, and moved to California where he made an application to join the LAPD. He spent two years in training, before finally being enrolled in 2010. He soon became good friends with Axel Stone, his first partner. Together they solved a series of murders and took down ‘Blue Swan’, a local gang. Tracing evidence along the way, they stumbled upon a government conspiracy cooked up by a mysterious Syndicate, and rescued Blaze Fielding from Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital in 2015. Adam played a key role in the events that followed, helping to expose Mr. X and clear Blaze’s name. With coded documents provided by Axel and Blaze, Adam managed to uncover more information regarding the Syndicate, and discovered that the ‘Mr. X’ Axel and Blaze had killed was in fact a robot double – the real X was alive, and had an Island Research Facility where they were manufacturing these XRobots en masse. Following up a hunch, Adam managed to find the island, but was captured and held as bait to draw Axel and Blaze into Mr. X’s clutches. He eventually managed to escape from his cell, and got his hands on a land crawler, but a self-destruct mechanism was activated from a remote source, injuring him. Meanwhile, Axel and Blaze had managed to find the island trying to rescue Adam. Reunited, the team escaped and destroyed the base, along with all the XRobots. All three of them believed the Syndicate had been finished for good that day, but they were wrong. Adam’s involvement in the destruction of the island facility earned him a promotion to captain, and relocation to the LAPD’s Covert Intelligence Unit. Two years later, Adam received a phone call on his personal line. It was Dr. Gilbert Zan, a former Syndicate researcher, who revealed to him that Mr. X was not yet dead, and was now trying to take over the world. After Axel and Blaze’s flight to Paris was hijacked and Wood Oak City destroyed, Adam had no choice but to take Dr. Zan’s words deadly seriously. Zan told Adam everything – and urged that they would need to work quickly if they were to rescue General Petrov and expose the Syndicate’s latest plan in time.

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Adam was very happy that his friends had survived the plane crash, and soon introduced them to Zan, who brought them all up to speed. Before setting out to rescue Petrov, Adam contacted his younger brother, Eddie “Skate” Hunter, told him what was going on and invited him to join them in their mission. Adam’s role in the now-infamous ‘Project Y incident’ gained him an invitation to join the FBI. He moved to Washington D.C. in December 2017, working at the FBI Headquarters with a new partner, Robert Murphy. For the next several months, Adam worked closely with Murphy in tracing various criminals and bringing them to justice. During his exploits he came across several links to “The Hand”, a world renowned terrorist, and started hearing rumours that something big was happening in the criminal underworld involving many of the world’s most notorious groups. In 2018, Adam received word that his friend, Blaze Fielding, was being held hostage in Chicago by none other than Dr. Zan. It seemed that Zan had been reprogrammed and was now demanding an audience with his old team-mates. Adam contacted Axel Stone on his satellite phone, and soon the team was reunited, in order to confront Zan and rescue Blaze. It turned out Zan was working for “The New Syndicate”, a global conglomerate of criminal networks that plotted a worldwide catastrophe. Adam and Murphy lent their help to Axel, Blaze and the others and managed to trace the organisation’s leaders to Hong Kong, where Leon Shiva, the Syndicate Boss, was finally killed. After that final confrontation, Adam and Murphy travelled the globe, liaising with various other Federal agents in order to track down and secure all the Syndicate’s nuclear material. Meanwhile, the many gangs and cutthroat groups that had comprised the New Syndicate were now warring amongst themselves. There was still a lot of work to do before the Syndicate Remnant was totally finished… Over the next two years, Adam and Murphy continued to work as partners at the FBI, lending essential help to Blaze Fielding’s detective agency. Together they managed to track and defeat the vast majority of remaining Syndicate gangs, during a period of great conflict known as the “Syndicate Wars”. Adam Hunter remains committed as ever to bringing the last of the Syndicate Remnant to justice, and is working closely with Blaze’s agency in his latest, special FBI assignment.

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Blaze Fielding

Her real name unknown, “Blaze” Fielding was born in 1993, into a primitive tribal society that lived on Cocos Island, a remote paradise off the coast of South America. They were a simple people, who farmed their own seeded plants and crops, hunted rabbits, and generally lived harmoniously with the natural world around them, cutting themselves off from twentieth century life. Aside from neighbouring tribes to the east and south, the island was otherwise uninhabited; it was a paradise on earth, and the girl’s early infancy was happy and full of love. Then, in 1996, when the girl was just three years old, a legion of mysterious, barbaric intruders came from the southern seas, invaded their lands and killed everyone, destroying the village, plundering and causing complete devastation. Helpless to resist, the infant girl was raped by multiple laughing intruders, whilst being forced to watch in horror as her parents were skinned alive in front of her eyes, at the same time… a gruesome, terrifyingly dark experience that would affect the poor girl psychologically for many years to come… Bruised, battered, and close to death, the young girl was the only survivor of that horrific incident…rescued from the island by a civilian helicopter that happened to be nearby. When asked her name, the only thing the poor girl could say was, “Blaze.” Due to bad weather conditions that prevented safe passage across the mountains to San Jose Hospital, Blaze was taken to a clinic in the fishing village of Bahía Anasco, where she was treated for her vicious wounds. The visiting physician, Dr. Carter, took various snapshots of the injuries and did everything in her power to help the girl. That night, Blaze was overwhelmed with fear, pain and confusion. All she could think about was the horror…. the intruders…her parents… Desperate to be alone, she escaped from the clinic building when no-one was looking and fled into the jungle, away from civilised society, away from everyone and everything, to be alone. Over the next decade, Blaze continued living alone in the jungle, inheriting the instincts and characteristics of the wild animals around her, growing feral and animalistic herself. She had no home, no family, no-one who cared about her or loved her. No, she was a survivor, nothing more… driven only by her instinct to keep running, running away from the horror that she imagined was still close behind her. Gradually, as the years went past, Blaze’s mind turned sour; she became paranoid, beginning to imagine voices that spoke her rabid thoughts aloud. In 2002, on the west coast of Costa Rica, Blaze abducted two babies, killed and ate them. After an attack on a third child failed, local authorities were called in to investigate the case, but to no avail. Rumours soon spread that Blaze had been murdered by a gang of youths in the sea, but these rumours were unfounded. Three years later, Blaze struck again: this time attacking an eight-year old girl with a knife. The girl, Christina Carpenter, survived but suffered a severe herpetological reaction. After she was raced to hospital, the doctors there were convinced the elusive “Blaze Fielding” (so named for being a “Devil Child”, or “Attacker of Children”) was involved. Dr. Martin Sloane, a man familiar with the case of “Blaze Fielding”, went searching for her later that day and managed to tranquilise her safely. He took her to

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Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital, Los Angeles, where she was committed for rehabilitation. Blaze would spend the next ten years at Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital under a heavy medication course. It was a very dark time for her… a continuous blur of waking images, terrifying dreams and euphoric energy rushes. The dreams – they continued haunting her every night…never letting her forget the horror on the island… Blaze had no idea that Mr. X’s Syndicate had been responsible for the destruction of her village, in order to collect brain specimens for Project X research. She was also completely unaware when, in 2006, Mr. X signed an order to keep her hospitalised indefinitely, so that his Syndicate could begin illegal genetic experimentation on her, as part of Project Homo Superior. Her experiences living feral in the jungle made her the perfect test subject for the project. Simon Jerrin, a Syndicate employee, was assigned as her undercover M.O., to assign an appropriate medication course that included Triazolam, a controversial DNA-altering amphetamine. Blood samples were taken, and work started on an ambitious cloning program to create an advanced living weapon. The Homo Superior research would go on until 2015, when Blaze was scheduled for a final memory wipe procedure which would complete the experiment and bring her under Syndicate control forever... Over her years spent at Edgemont, Blaze was treated like dirt by her supervisors, and raped multiple times by Simon Jerrin. Every time she went up for a hearing, her plea was always dismissed… they were never going to let her out of the place. Not ever…. At one point, the pain of her life became too much to bear. She planned to throw herself from a balcony and kill herself, to end the pain of her life forever… but somehow she just couldn’t do it. She reminded herself that she was a survivor… that somehow, her life would change for the better… In 2015, just before her scheduled memory wipe, she was rescued from the hospital by Axel Stone, a cop who had apparently stumbled upon a massive government conspiracy. According to him, she should have been released from the hospital years ago, but was being kept in there against her will. Blaze was sceptical at first… but then, Axel was the only person she knew who actually believed her about her experiences on the island, and genuinely wanted to help. She joined him in trying to expose the truth, and fell in love with him in the process. Whilst fleeing from the Syndicate’s sinister agents, Axel was captured by Simon Jerrin and taken to Mr. X, who they’d discovered was responsible for killing Blaze’s parents. Blaze confronted Jerrin that night in his Los Angeles home with Adam, forced him to reveal the location of X, and then killed him. Then she went to find Axel, and in the ensuing struggle she killed Mr. X. Unbeknownst to her, of course, she had only killed Robot X, his robot double. Using files obtained from government computers, Axel and Blaze managed to clear her name, and she was finally granted freedom, with compensation of course, by the man in charge of the LAPD, Chief O’Hara. O’ Hara also agreed to allow Blaze to join the police force as Axel’s new partner. Over the next few months, Blaze attended police academy. Now that she was free of the hospital, she could actually live a real life…one where she could love, and

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be loved, and she was happy for the first time in her life. That said, she still maintained a little substance abuse… having spent ten years doped-to-the-hairline it was difficult not to. She started taking ‘Fire’, a new tablet-based form of the chemical ‘Triazolam’ being distributed by Neo-Pharm. Soon, Adam Hunter mysteriously disappeared. Blaze and Axel went to find their friend, but found that the man’s house had been burned to the ground in an immense fire. Adam’s brother Skate had no idea what had happened. Upon searching Adam’s office, they discovered he’d been tracing the real Mr. X and his Island Research Base off the west coast. A curling photograph showed Adam in chains, at Mr. X’s feet. Blaze had grossly underestimated the Syndicate, as they all had. It soon came to their attention that the drugs company Neo-Pharm was shipping Fire to the island as part of a new deal, so Blaze and Axel sneaked aboard a cargo ship headed for the island, where they were captured by Mr. X. On the Island Research Base, Blaze felt overwhelmed by the whole experience, and was grateful to Axel and Adam for their efforts in escaping and destroying the base, along with all the X-Robots. The experience forced her to re-think her Fire addiction, and she never took the drug again. After the destruction of X’s Island Base, Blaze assumed X was dead, and that the Syndicate was finished. She continued her life under the false impression that the destruction of her village had been finally avenged… In 2016, Blaze was properly enrolled into the LAPD and became Axel’s fullfledged partner after Adam relocated to the Covert Intelligence Unit. She gained a wealth of experience in the field, taking down many criminals and earning respect from her other colleagues, who had originally perceived her as a bit of a loose thread. Meanwhile, she started smoking marijuana as a substitute for the Fire she’d grown addicted to. The following year, Blaze and Axel were invited to attend the International Police Summit in Paris, as representatives of their department. However, their flight was hijacked before they could get there – and redirected to the frozen Arctic, where they would have died an explosive death if not for Axel’s heroic last-minute action. During that 36-hour ordeal, something stirred within Blaze Fielding for the first time – an energy rush from deep inside her, that would continue to manifest itself throughout the next week, getting stronger and stronger each day. Something she could only describe as her ‘aura’. What she didn’t realise at the time, of course, was that her genetic powers, built into her DNA as part of the Syndicate’s Homo Superior project, were reaching maturity… Upon returning to LA, Blaze and Axel reunited with Adam, who informed them that the Syndicate was back with a new plan. Not only that, but Chief O’Hara was working with the Syndicate, and had set Blaze and Axel up by sending them on the flight to Paris, willingly sending them to their deaths. Outraged, Blaze and Axel quit the police force, to tackle the Syndicate on their own. Adam introduced them to Dr. Zan, and they formed a strike team to rescue General Petrov and expose the real villains behind the destruction of Wood Oak City. During the ‘Project Y incident’, Blaze was captured by the Syndicate, and Shiva revealed to her the truth behind her new ‘fireball’ ability - the fact she was a genetic experiment. Blaze didn’t take lightly to the news – she felt that the Syndicate

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had stolen her life from her, that they had used and abused her on a level that went beyond words. Still, she was determined to incorporate her new abilities into her everyday life, and use them against the Syndicate. Travelling to Reykjavík, Iceland, the team managed to rescue General Petrov. Before escaping via helicopter, Blaze used her new fireball ability to beat back the advancing X-Robots, much to the amazement of the others. Blaze’s new powers were causing her great distress – her body was evolving into something she didn’t really understand, and it caused her to experience a disturbing nightmare that would only foreshadow events to come… At the Syndicate Stronghold in the Nevada Desert, Blaze finally confronted Mr. X – the man responsible for the death of her parents – though by now he was just a brain in a jar, an insane shadow of the man he once was. Blaze and her friends battled Robot Y, with a little help from the US Air Force, and Mr. X was finally killed when his base exploded, taking his stasis chamber with it. Finally, Mr. X was really dead, and Blaze Fielding could finally find closure on the events that had tormented her for life for so long. That said, the Syndicate’s legacy would always be with her in the form of her genetic power… something that wouldn’t go away, and it swiftly made her depressed, and turn to hard drugs like heroin in order to escape the reality of it. After the Project Y incident, Blaze became a celebrity; the story of her life and experiences was the subject of many magazine and newspaper articles, and she was soon offered a number of modelling contracts all over the United States, thanks to her natural beauty. Attracted to the idea of fame and money, and feeling alienated from Axel by her genetic powers, Blaze split from their relationship and moved to Chicago, Illinois, beginning a new career as a model. Her image would eventually grace billboards across the United States as the face of ‘Calvin Klein’ fragrance products. By 2018, Blaze’s modelling career had really taken off and she’d done a photo-shoot with Maxim as well as several other men’s magazines. She found herself a new boyfriend, John Sinclaire, but he was killed by Dr. Zan when the cyborg burst into Blaze’s apartment, taking Blaze hostage. Zan, reprogrammed by the New Syndicate, attacked Blaze, badly wounding her, then held her as bait for the other members of her team, who were forced to kill him in order to rescue her. Blaze awoke in Washington D.C.’s General Hospital some time later, and Axel brought her up to speed on what was going on. Not long after, there was an attempt on her life as Neo Zeed assassins were sent to kill her, and she was rescued at the last minute by Joe Musashi. Blaze, now fully recovered from her injuries, joined Axel and the others at Dr. Zan’s funeral a few days later, and it was there that they were attacked by mature Homo Superior units – clones of Blaze. Blaze was deeply hurt by the revelation that she’d been cloned, by the fact that it had happened completely without her knowledge or consent, but in a way, it seemed to make the events of her life make more sense. As strong-willed a woman as she was, Blaze joined the team in tracking the clones to a facility in Philadelphia and destroying the monstrosities being created there, which included The Twelfth One, a clone with powers far in advance of the others… She was Blaze Fielding. The First One. The original; not a copy. Using information downloaded from the cloning facility computer, they managed to track the leadership of the New Syndicate to Hong Kong, and the team

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travelled there for a final confrontation with Leon Shiva, a man who was now effectively Blaze’s arch-nemesis. Defeating Shiva that day brought an end to the New Syndicate’s plans for a Second Dark Age, but the world had changed dramatically after the bombing of London, and the remaining gangs that made up the Syndicate’s ranks were left without leadership. Soon, the gangs started to war amongst themselves, splinter groups started to form, a new age of darkness on the horizon that would become known as the “Syndicate Wars”. Returning home from Hong Kong, Blaze was pleasantly surprised when Axel Stone proposed to her with a diamond ring. She said “yes”, happy that such a thing could happen to a person like her… The next morning, Blaze was kidnapped, and taken to a top secret Syndicate research facility in San Francisco. There, she underwent the memory wipe to bring her under the Syndicate’s complete control, to completely transform her into an invincible Homo Superior warrior. However, the Syndicate had grossly underestimated her resolve…something Blaze had once said was their greatest weakness. She remembered everything… and now she was so powerful, they couldn’t stop her! Blaze found her physical and mental powers had improved astronomically, and she now had some kind of psychokinetic ability. Without even working up a sweat, she escaped from the San Francisco lab and headed home, her aura burning fiercely inside her as the prospects that lay before her became evident. In 2019, Blaze formally established her detective agency, employing Axel Stone, Max Hatchett, and “Skate” Hunter to their cause. Together, they vowed to hunt down the remaining Syndicate councillors and gangs, and rid them from the face of the earth forever. For two years, the Syndicate Wars raged, and Blaze Fielding got to grips with her advanced Homo Superior powers. It was a difficult thing to live with, but by now, she had accepted her fate - that she was no longer human… Blaze, ravaged by darkness and rage, continues to take the fight to the enemy, determined to end the threat of the Syndicate forever, a cause to which she has dedicated her life. Mature and totally confident, her life has now come full circle… ultimately a tragic victim of Mr. X’s evil.

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Eddie “Skate” Hunter

Edward John Hunter was born in Chicago, Illinois in 1998. When he was very young, he was mostly looked after by his older brother, Adam Hunter, since their mother was a self-loathing crack addict with narcolepsy, who found it difficult to devote much time to her children. At the age of five, young Eddie started attending grade school, where he soon earned the nickname “Skate”, thanks to his natural talent in the field of rollerblading. In 2008, when “Skate” was only 10, his brother Adam moved away to California to join the police force, and his mother got married to a radio producer from Michigan. These were big changes in Skate’s life, and he was forced to adjust quickly as his mother sold the house and moved in with her new husband, in Detroit, the Motor City Motown… During his high school years, Skate became extremely rebellious, getting into a lot of fights, and would frequently find himself in trouble with local authorities. However, further time spent with Adam at his LA home soon influenced Skate to play around with computers, and he developed a keen interest in technology in general. He met Axel Stone for the first time during a visit in 2012. In 2015, Skate travelled to LA once again, but when he arrived there, he found that Adam’s house had been burned to the ground; Adam himself was nowhere to be found. Worried his brother might be in some kind of serious trouble, he contacted the LAPD, but was told that no-one had seen Adam for a few days. The only person he could turn to was Axel, so he phoned the number he’d been given and got through. Axel Stone and Blaze Fielding rushed to the scene, and Skate joined them as they set out to find Adam. They went to his office, situated in another part of the city, and found a planted photograph that showed Adam in chains, kidnapped by a mysterious organisation called “the Syndicate”, which was apparently building robots to take over the city. Axel and Blaze raced after an intruder on motorbikes, leaving Skate to clear things up behind them. Skate, urged home by his mother, was unable to help them any further, but was relieved when he finally got the phone call telling him Adam was safe, and they’d defeated the ‘Syndicate’ for good. Two years later, Skate was contacted by Adam, who requested his presence for a special operation to save the world. The ‘Syndicate’ was back, and was responsible for an act of nuclear terrorism he’d been seeing on the news. Skate was excited about everything and raced to LA to join up with Adam, Axel, Blaze, Max Hatchett and a half-human cyborg named “Doctor Zan” to rescue General Petrov and expose the Syndicate’s sinister plans. Along the way, he had to do battle with a battalion of XRobots, and would face them again at the Syndicate Stronghold, where he would also face the behemoth Robot Y, a virtually unstoppable battle robot. After the Syndicate’s defeat, Skate had learned a few raw lessons about survival and the need to stay physically strong, aware, and alert at all times. He’d seen many horrors during the Project Y incident, and it convinced him to study kickboxing and work out more to grow into a strong warrior like Axel and Adam. That said, he’d also learned some positive things, and made some new friends.

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In February 2018, he moved out of his mother’s house and went to LA where he got an apartment, working at local construction sites to get money. A few months later, he would join up once again with Adam, Axel, and Max when Dr. Zan took Blaze hostage at her Chicago apartment and demanded the presence of them all. They soon learned that Shiva was still alive, and was now a major figure in an international criminal alliance known as the “New Syndicate”. Skate joined the team in hunting down the New Syndicate High Council and finishing Shiva for good. During the adventure, he encountered an army of clones and sinister black ninjas. In 2019, Skate became a full-time operative in Blaze Fielding’s international detective agency, Firestorm. He would go on to fight in the Syndicate Wars, tracking down remnant Syndicate forces and proving himself as a capable warrior. Now 23 years old, Skate is a powerful and experienced young man who will stop at nothing to achieve Firestorm’s goals.

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Max Hatchett

Max Hatchett was born in Whittier, California in 1987, the son of a corrupt city doctor and a local prostitute who had fallen in love. His parents got married just prior to his birth, and he was raised into a somewhat criminal lifestyle thereafter. During his school years, he would frequently beat up his classmates, and was expelled from several schools as a result, another time for drug dealing. In his teens, Max was introduced to LA’s underworld wrestling scene by a group of high school friends – a huge wrestling arena built underground, about a mile beneath a local baseball stadium, where criminals from across the city would fight in brutal, illegal championships; a blood sport with no real rules. Max enjoyed visiting the arena and getting to know the underworld lifestyle associated with it, whilst attending gigs with friends. In 2003, he met Axel Stone for the first time at high school. Max invited Axel to come along to the arena, and a friendship was born from their shared interest in fighting and training. Max soon finished high school, and decided to become a full-time wrestler at the arena, where it didn’t take long for him to become the local champion. By 2008 Max had earned himself the nickname, “The Crusher”. With his size and sheer strength and love for fighting, he was a natural in the ring and won many trophies. During this time he met a lot of people both in and outside the ring, accumulating many diverse and seedy contacts, who had influences in various fields of expertise. One of these contacts was known as ‘Electra’, a woman he dated for a time. That same year, Max defeated Abadede, the boss of the circuit and one of the head honchos in a criminal syndicate, in a ten-round tournament that made Max a living legend in the criminal underworld…. In 2010, at the age of twenty-three, Max retired from the wrestling scene a very rich young man – with a total fortune of four million dollars. With that much money, he was free to do whatever he wanted, so eventually he decided to establish a pharmaceutical business in the city, something he could do thanks to his father’s medical and business contacts throughout the world. This new business was named Neo-Pharmaceuticals, or ‘Neo-Pharm’. Neo-Pharm grew into a large and successful business, owning factories, offices, production facilities and shipping ports throughout Los Angeles. The company manufactured various drugs for use in medicine as well as legalised street drugs sold through retail outlets. One of these street drugs was “Fire”, a powerful amphetamine that boosted the human system in a similar way to ecstasy, but was said to unlock dormant genes and the ‘full potential’ of one’s ‘spirit’. The primary ingredients in Fire were Quadropic Acid, a rare chemical compound that infused itself at the genetic level, and a chemical form of the psychotropic Triazolam. Due to the rarity of the ingredients, Fire became a highly sought-after drug.

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So much in fact, that Neo-Pharm attracted the attention of Mr. X’s Syndicate, a powerful criminal organisation that Max had some knowledge of. In 2015, Leon Shiva ‘convinced’ Max to sell the business to the Syndicate for 100 million dollars. Max couldn’t refuse, even if he wanted to… Max was happy to take the cash either way, and wasn’t really aware of the Syndicate’s true motives. He had heard that the Syndicate wanted Neo-Pharm’s resources for a new experiment that involved Fire… but that was all. He continued to work as Chairman while the business changed hands, the Syndicate using ‘RoboCy Corporation’ as a front to pull off the takeover legitimately. Then, on a summer’s day that same year, Max’s old friend Axel Stone, with his new partner Blaze Fielding, came to see Max in his office at the Neo-Pharm building. Axel explained everything – how the Syndicate had been involved in some truly inhuman acts and was conducting illegal experiments that threatened everyone’s lives. He explained that he and Blaze were hunting down the Syndicate’s leader, Mr. X, to rescue Adam Hunter, Axel’s first partner, who had been kidnapped. Max, never one to abandon friends in their time of need, helped Axel and Blaze sneak aboard one of his cargo ships that was headed for Mr. X’s Island Research Facility, and they were successful in destroying it, crippling the Syndicate. Max was forced to go into hiding for a few months, now branded a ‘turncoat’ by Syndicate gangs on the streets of Los Angeles. The trouble seemed to die down for a while, but two years later, in 2017, Max received a call from Axel telling him the Syndicate was back, and they were planning on starting a nuclear war. Max was shocked to discover that X’s Syndicate was responsible for the outrage at Wood Oak he’d seen on CNN, and was determined to help his friends rescue General Petrov and expose the Syndicate as the real villains to the world. During the way they encountered Electra, Max’s former ‘contact’, who was now a high ranking member of the Syndicate’s Inner Sanctum. Electra attacked Max with her electro-shock whip, ignoring his protests, and was successful in kidnapping Blaze Fielding. The team managed to rescue her thanks to the ingenuity of Dr. Zan, who had Blaze fitted with a homing beacon that led them straight to the Inner Sanctum building. Using contacts from imports and exports to find X’s location, Max then travelled to the Syndicate Stronghold in the Nevada Desert with the team, where they confronted Robot Y and defeated Mr. X for good. After the so-called ‘Project Y incident’, Max retired with his millions, and bought a house not far from Lake Balboa. In 2018, Max was called upon once again, when it became clear that Leon Shiva was still alive, and was moving to dominate a new international criminal conglomerate known as The New Syndicate. Together (minus Doctor Zan, who had been killed) Max and his team set out to take out Shiva and finish the Syndicate once and for all. Along the way, they discovered an army of Homo Superior clones at a Philadelphia facility, and had to do battle with mysterious ninjas from the Neo Zeed. After the deaths of Shiva and The Hand and the collapse of the New Syndicate, Max agreed to come out of retirement and join Firestorm, Blaze Fielding’s new international detective agency.

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For the next two years, Max would fight in the violent Syndicate Wars, becoming an accomplished Firestorm agent and an expert with vehicles and heavy weapons. Now 34, Max is a man in his prime: strong minded, powerful, and dedicated to his team and their cause.

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Joe Musashi

Joseph Musashi was born in Fujiyoshida-shi, Japan, in 1989, the son of two brilliant ninjitsu warriors trained under Master Harada Maezumi of the Oboro clan. From the tender age of one, young Joseph was trained in the ways of the Shinobi by Harada himself at the Oboro dōjō in Subashiri at the base of Mt. Fuji. Shinobi was one of the most ancient and revered fighting forms of the ninjitsu discipline. Musashi learned how to attune his senses to the world around him and spent much of his time meditating, learning to experience the Essence of Jutsu, a state of consciousness that allowed him to act on instinct alone, which was the key to unlocking mythical abilities described in ancient parchments dating back to the time of the Jomon Empire; the source of much study at the dōjō. During his time at the dōjō, young Musashi would train alone with Harada, and as part of a larger group. He made friends with fellow students named Yamato and Kato, becoming as brothers with them… Joe Musashi learned stealth tactics, archery, horse-riding, as well as taijutsu and various other ninjitsu forms. He was literally being trained as a weapon; Joseph’s parents were involved in some serious business with a vicious crime syndicate called the ‘Zeed’, and they believed Joe was their key to victory – the boy was already exhibiting amazing skills, beyond all his peers. Then one day in 2010, when Musashi was twenty-one years old, word reached the dōjō that his parents had been killed by Zeed forces after trying to rescue children kidnapped from the village. Musashi, along with his friends Kato and Yamato, took it upon himself to track down the Zeed and defeat them for good. They set out from the town in the Autumn of 2010 in search of the mysterious organisation. Along the way, Musashi fell in love with a girl named Naoko who helped them locate the Zeed fortress. Using their training and Shinobi skills they were successful in destroying the Zeed and rescuing the kidnapped children, however Yamato was lost in the exploding fortress. In 2011, after the fighting had ended, Musashi returned to Subashiri with Naoko, his love, and they became engaged, moving into a house on the outskirts of town. Over the next four years, Musashi worked closely with Harada and Naoko in the translation of hundreds of ancient parchments recently discovered at an archaeological dig. There were clues to the location of an artefact of great power that was lost millennia ago. In 2016, it became evident that the Zeed group had been reborn, as the ‘Neo Zeed’. A survivor of the original Zeed group, known only as “The Hand”, had rallied together many of the criminal ninja clans that remained in Japan, and now the Neo Zeed was a significant threat that could not be ignored. It’s leader, The Hand, possessed one of the pieces of the Essence of Jutsu, that if combined with the lost second piece, would give him godlike power.

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By 2018, Neo Zeed had become a totalitarian organisation, and had allied itself with various other vicious cartels and syndicates from around the world, forming an international criminal conglomerate known as the “New Syndicate” – a worldwide threat that planned a global disaster. In the face of such danger, it fell to Musashi to locate the second piece of the Essence of Jutsu, and keep it from falling into the wrong hands. Using information they had gathered from years of translation and research, Musashi travelled to Tokyo, where he discovered the ancient artefact buried on a remote hill. As he prepared to return home, he was set upon by Neo Zeed attackers who tried to rob him of the artefact. Musashi defeated the attackers and raced home to Subashiri: but he was too late… His master, the great Harada Maezumi, had been burned to death, and his fiancée Naoko was nowhere to be found, kidnapped by the Neo Zeed. It soon became obvious that The Hand was behind everything: that he was now using Naoko as bait, attempting to lure Joe Musashi into his clutches to get the piece of the artefact in his possession. Musashi swore to hunt down the Hand, kill him, and recover his piece of the artefact. He would then destroy the artefact for good. Nothing would get in the way of the Revenge of Shinobi… He travelled to the United States, to Washington D.C, after receiving information that suggested the New Syndicate High Council held meetings at the city. He soon encountered a plot to assassinate Blaze Fielding, a renegade Syndicate experiment, who was recovering at the General Hospital. He’d read about this girl years earlier during his Zeed mission, and had seen her face on billboards around Tokyo. Her involvement in the ‘Project Y’ incident was also common knowledge. Intrigued, he decided to intervene and rescued her from a group of Neo Zeed assassins. Later, he joined forces with Blaze, Axel and the other members of their team to track down the New Syndicate. At the entrance of the Bank of China Tower in Hong Kong, Musashi confronted his old friend Yamato, who he had believed to be dead after the explosion that destroyed the original Zeed’s fortress. Yamato swore loyalty to The Hand, so Musashi and the other members of the team had no choice but to defeat him in order to continue. Inside the building, while Blaze and her team members confronted Leon Shiva, the mastermind of the New Syndicate, Musashi went to confront The Hand, and settle the personal issue that burned on his mind. In the ensuing struggle, Musashi got his hands on both pieces of the Essence of Jutsu, and used the combined artefact to call upon mythical ninjitsu magic which rendered him temporarily invincible. He defeated The Hand, and rescued Naoko from her prison. His quest for vengeance…was at an end. Now, with FBI and military forces converging on the building, Musashi knew his skills were no longer needed. Carrying Naoko over his shoulder, he fled the scene silently and invisibly. Reunited with his love, Musashi returned to his homeland to relax with Naoko and is now happily married.

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Dr. Gilbert Zan Gilbert Victor Zan was born in New York City in 1971, the son of a renowned government scientist and a lawyer. His father, Victor Zan, was famous for the discovery of the Laxine atom in 1979, and from a young age Gilbert wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a scientist. As he grew up, his family frequently took trips to Germany, where they had relatives, and Zan spent many hours exploring museums and learning about European history and culture. Back home in New York, young Zan excelled in all his scientific studies, and could hold lengthy debates with his father and his colleagues on the latest scientific theories. In his spare time he enjoyed taking apart machines and reconstructing them with various new abilities. In 1989, Zan began studying a doctorate in ‘Theoretical Cybernetics Applications’ at a University in New York, and graduated in 1995, six years later. Then, after a brief stint in the US military where he first met Ivan Petrov, he was immediately offered a job by RoboCy Corporation, to work as an assistant researcher under Dr. Henry Dahm. Zan did not hesitate to take the job, and moved to Los Angeles. Zan spent the next twenty years working for RoboCy Corporation, blissfully unaware that the company was simply a front for the evil Syndicate’s sinister activities. His first project was the development of a state-of-the-art thinking machine, a neural net processor, during the late nineties, but he was never able to get it to work – the human brain was far too complex an organ to try and replicate artificially with the level of technology that existed at the time. He did, however, come up with some interesting new theories on the structure of mind that Dr. Dahm, his supervisor, was very impressed with. In 2001, he was promoted to Senior Researcher and was reassigned to work with Dr. Dahm personally, on the development of high-tech biodroids, automated defence drones, and other early robotics breakthroughs. By 2006 work began in earnest on Project X – a robotics project like no other. It involved the cybernetic replication of a human person, in every detail, using synthetic tissues and components. George Xetheus, a popular US Senator, was chosen as the template for the Robot X Prototype, which would take many years to fully realise. In 2014, the prototype Robot X was finally completed, and Zan went on to help RoboCy begin mass production. He didn’t question what was going on; he was too wrapped up in his research to spot any clues that gave away Dr. Dahm and the Syndicate’s true intentions. The following year, Dahm told Zan how the X Robot line had failed to perform adequately in the field, and ordered that work started immediately on a new robotics project… this time called Project Y. Project Y was the ultimate culmination of all their research at RoboCy: Both machine and living, undying. A cybernetic organism with amazing potential, that could have a human consciousness downloaded into it. Dr. Dahm showed Zan his

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formulae, his predictions. He promised they would be pushing forward the evolutionary chain with Project Y…creating a perfect being. Intrigued, Zan continued to work at RoboCy on the new project. He was never given full access though, which he found rather odd. He had heard a rumour that they were developing some kind of military hardware, that heavy artillery was being incorporated into the design, but he lacked the security clearance to find out everything for himself. He was unable to come up with anything concrete when he hacked into the Project Y database to take a glimpse at the designs either, as it appeared someone was erasing files in order to cover their tracks… In 2015, Zan’s life was changed forever when he was forcibly used as a test subject for phase one of Project Y. He was working late one night at the RoboCy lab, when suited men appeared from out of nowhere and decapitated him. His head was supplanted onto an advanced cyborg armoured body, the phase one exoskeleton. The process of merging Zan’s brain with the mechanical body took eighteen months. Zan was conscious the whole time, and in constant pain, his thoughts a jumble like static. In 2017, the long transformation was complete: Dr. Zan was now a halfhuman cyborg, his armoured body possessing great strength and electrical charge modules that allowed him to discharge violent currents of electricity. He was man and he was machine… his brain had been modified with cybernetic implants, and he had cybernetic eyes that gave him enhanced vision. He may have been different physically, but Zan was still a man in his own mind, since his personality and years of experience remained intact. Overpowering the thugs guarding his cell, he managed to break free and sneak into Dr. Dahm’s office, where he learned everything: that Mr. X’s evil Syndicate was behind it all. He fled the RoboCy lab and contacted Adam Hunter, one of three police officers who had destroyed Third Base two years earlier… the sort of people he felt like he could trust right now. He explained everything he had learned from his interface with Dahm’s computer to Adam, and then they teamed up with Axel Stone, Blaze Fielding, Max Hatchett and Skate Hunter to expose the Syndicate to the world and defeat X’s evil plans for good. After rescuing General Petrov and blowing the Syndicate’s cover, Zan and the team travelled to the Nevada Desert, where they descended the underground Syndicate Stronghold and confronted Mr. X – who was a brain in a jar. They were then forced to confront Robot Y, a prototype battle robot, a mech, that had Mr. X’s consciousness downloaded into it. Robot Y was virtually impossible to defeat and was extremely powerful: it was everything that Dr. Dahm had originally envisaged, and Zan was both amazed and horrified at the thing. The team were forced to flee, and Robot Y was eventually destroyed by USAF fighters when the military turned up in force to take control of the situation. Zan’s role in the now-infamous ‘Project Y incident’ earned him a full pardon from the President of the United States for his original involvement with RoboCy and the Syndicate research projects. He left the United States for Germany not long after, to keep a low profile while the entire affair blew over. He needed some time to come to terms with the extraordinary changes in his life, and indeed the very functioning of his own body.

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In January 2018, Zan was captured by Leon Shiva after being immobilised from a remote source. He was taken to a Syndicate lab in Berlin, where his conscious personality was suppressed and his cortical pathways reprogrammed to do Shiva’s bidding. Shiva then sent Zan on a very special mission: to gather together his old team-mates from the Project Y incident and kill them all before they could interfere with the New Syndicate and his new plans for the world… Zan decided that the best way to get them all to come to him was by holding Blaze Fielding hostage and threatening to kill her. He airdropped into her apartment, murdered her boyfriend and gravely wounded Blaze herself. Sure enough, his bait worked. He soon found himself face to face with his old team mates once again. However, before he could complete his mission and self-detonate, he was cut down by their machine gun fire… Deprogrammed and restored to his former self thanks to Murphy’s tech skills, and staying alive only through a direct-connection power link to FBI computers, Zan felt guilty at what the hostile programming had forced him to do. He explained all about Shiva’s New Syndicate and everything he’d learned whilst being kidnapped, before requesting that Axel shut him down for good. I could be reworked, Zan admitted. But I’d rather be nothing. His body was buried at Oak Hill Cemetery in Washington DC.

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Prologue Arkham Asylum October 31st 2020

Torrential rain hammered down on the gothic rooftops of the Asylum, splashing over great expanses of reinforced glass, plastecrete and ferrofoam, sharply pointed spires and arches, beating at the cathedral-like sculptural detail with considerable force. The sound of the torrential downpour was a hissing roar that overpowered all other sounds in the stormy night. Arkham Asylum was a heavily fortified institution for the Criminally Insane, located on a remote island off the coast of France. It was a place where some of the world’s most notorious criminals and psychopaths were imprisoned – at a location internationally agreed upon by the New World Order. The building’s gothic exterior of gargoyles and twisted depictions of medieval demons proved that what horrors were inside — bled into the outside. The Asylum was named after Elizabeth Arkham, founder Amadeus Arkham’s mother. It’s dark, controversial history began decades ago, when Arkham’s wife and child were murdered by one of his patients. Arkham took revenge – by electrocuting the killer during a shock therapy session, and was institutionalised in his own facility… In the skies overhead, there was a violent booming of thunder. The rain came down faster and harder, impossibly intense. From where he sat in his padded cell on B Wing, Henry Dahm could hear the storm, and the sound of it made his thoughts dull and bleak, about as dull and bleak as it could get in a windowless, featureless room in an insane asylum… Dahm was seventy-five years old, but he looked ninety-five. His face was crinkled and haggered, dark bags under his eyes, a greying moustache nestled beneath his small nose and a dirty beard. He had a full head of hair, set into a very bizarre style that protruded from each side of his head, though it was scruffy and unwashed. He’d been a prisoner in this facility for three years now, ever since the Project Y ‘incident’ of 2017 and his subsequent arrest… He shook his head, his eyes closed. I had come so close! Dr. Henry Dahm’s research projects came to a crashing end that fateful day at the facility in the Nevada Desert – before any of it had a chance to fully come to fruition. Indeed, Project Y was only in its infancy at that stage of development. It was a fact that angered Dahm to the core: he had almost done it, almost completed his life’s work, when bang: the ignorant societal forces of ‘good’ stumbled upon their work, and destroyed it all, including Mr. X, who embodied the very revolution they were all striving to achieve. Such injustice! he thought to himself. Still, Mr. X may be dead, but I am not. As long as I am still alive, then hope for the future still remains…

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The corners of Dahm’s mouth twitched. Three years was a long time to spend in this damned place… and he had spent most of that time alone, listening to the barbaric screams of distant inmates echoing throughout the Asylum, pondering to himself where the Syndicate had gone wrong for it all to end like this. The next time it will be perfect, he thought, taking a deep breath. He certainly hadn’t wasted his time in here. No; he’d formulated many new ideas and theories in his own mind, and had a clear vision of what he could achieve, what he had a duty to achieve, if he could just get out of this goddamned place! He knew that there were remnant Syndicate forces still out there, that they were rapidly disappearing thanks to Firestorm, a team of do-gooders led by his brainchild, Blaze Fielding, the First superhuman warrior of the failed Homo Superior experiment. What Dahm needed to do was get out there, restore order to the situation, and work to recover their … losses…. Thunder boomed. Dahm sighed and shook the thought aside. It was pointless to daydream about escaping this place anyway: the security was too tight, and he was certainly no Leon Shiva… Slowly, he got to his feet and shambled across the floor to the locked pressure door. He was wearing a strait-jacket, so his movements were restricted and uncomfortable. He reached the tiny porthole and peered through to the sterile corridor and hallway beyond. Two human guards dressed in body armour were standing nearby, mulling about. “I’m not insane!” Dahm shouted, his cheeks flustering, getting their attention. “Do you hear me? I’m not insane!” One of the guards approached the door and peered through at him, then pressed the intercom button. His voice came through scratchy and distorted: “Sure thing, doctor doom. So what, we just let you go free, right?” He burst into laughter and walked off. Dahm stepped away from the porthole, his teeth clenched, nostrils flaring. He writhed like a snake for a moment, fuming with rage, as he struggled to free himself from the strait jacket, but he could do nothing. He slumped, falling to the padded floor, defeated and humiliated. I will bide my time, he promised himself, his head spinning. It was all he could do to keep his sanity in this hive of madness… Sleep overwhelmed him. *** Dahm awoke the next morning to the sound of distant gunfire. He sat up, startled, then pushed himself onto his feet and went to the porthole, grunting with exhaustion. The corridor and hallway beyond were empty. The sound of gunfire was getting stronger: it was obvious that a battle was taking place in some other part of the facility, but the nature of the battle was unclear. “Guard!” Dahm shouted, then banged himself up against the cushioned metallic door, bouncing off. Sighing, he peered through the porthole again. “Guard! I demand to know what’s going on!” He received no answer. Apparently, nobody was around. Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet and the building around him started vibrating, rumbling, knocking him to the floor… An earthquake? Impossible…

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A blur of motion, and one half of his cell seemed to disintegrate into thin air. A brilliant flash of light and a shockwave followed, the explosion blowing Dahm back towards the locked pressure door, scaulding his face. He braced himself, squeezing his eyes shut tight. What…? Dazed and disorientated, Dahm struggled to focus his vision. He could feel cold fresh air on his face. There was the sound of a helicopter chopping the air overhead, men barking orders and making clunking sounds. “What… What is happening…?” Through his blurred and confused vision, he could make out the shape of a dark figure walking towards him. “Dr. Dahm,” a familiar voice said. “It’s been a long time, old friend. We’ve come to get you out of here. There’s much work to be done… and we haven’t much time.” “Good day, doctor,” said another voice. It was a woman. Dahm smiled, bursting into tears – tears of happiness and relief as he realised who the people were. “I knew you would return!” he babbled, unable to do much but bow his head slightly. “I never thought it were possible – but here you are! It worked!” “Just as I promised, Henry,” the man’s voice said reassuringly. “Come on, we haven’t much time. Operation Shadow Hand has moved into the final phase of its ultimate operation.” Dahm nodded, licking his lips, memories of the contingency plans flashing through his mind clearly now. He grinned, feeling a pleasant rush of anticipation as he reflected on these new prospects. “Then I trust everything is ready for phase three to begin?” he asked. “Yes,” the man’s voice chuckled. “The unsuspecting fools know not what awaits…”

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1

Metro City District New York April 14th 2021

The Wednesday night air was cold and damp, cold enough to see your breath, and a thick layer of fog blanketed the streets of Metro City, reducing visibility to a minimum. Rain fell in a light drizzle, forcing pedestrians to open umbrellas, or take shelter wherever they could in the noisy bustling gloom. The multicoloured neon lights of bars and venues glowed like homing beacons in the urban wilderness, and as Kato Hitoshi walked briskly down 22nd Street, his eyes turned to regard the rainbow signs, his features hidden darkly beneath the hood of his coat. A loose, rain-soaked page from some discarded newspaper blew across his field of vision for a moment, then was gone, carried by the wind. He stared at the bar signs longingly, hungrily, inhaling the aroma of cigarette smoke and alcohol that wafted his way as he passed. I could use a drink right now, he thought wearily to himself. I wish I could… but I cannot! I must not! It’s not safe for me here anymore, I must keep moving! He concentrated on walking, trying his best to remain alert yet calm under pressure. He passed under an archway then turned right, heading down 23rd Street, keeping his head down. As he did so, a black car passed by on the road to his left with its foglights glaring, dazzling his vision, and for a moment Kato thought he’d been spotted, that they’d found him. But the vehicle continued to drive past, and was soon far behind him, out of sight. Anxiously he put on a burst of speed, eager to get home and then out of this town as soon as possible. Union Lizard… The Union Lizard wanted him dead. He’d heard the news from a friend here in Metro – a bounty contract had been put on Kato’s head that morning. For some reason they wanted him dead, hell, there were probably a thousand reasons why – and if he stayed here any longer, in this town, they were going to find him and kill him at a moment’s notice. The Union Lizard organisation was a powerful crime syndicate that operated to a certain extent here in New York; their presence here was relatively small, but they were supposedly an extremely well organised international group, one of the most powerful splinter groups to emerge in the aftermath of the New Syndicate’s collapse, and Kato didn’t doubt for a second they had this part of New York covered – and that he was being watched. There were rival turf wars going on, according to what he’d been told, and he’d certainly seen his fair share of violence during his time here. Skipping town would be the best course of action, at least until he could find out what was really going on here and strike back at those responsible. Kato Hitoshi was a Shinobi of the Oboro Clan, a student of the late Harada Maezumi, and as such he was gifted in the ancient art of ninjitsu. Though he lacked

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some of the more formidable skills of some of his fellow Shinobi, he remained a powerful fighter in his own right, one of the three brave warriors who destroyed the original Zeed group eleven years earlier. He would not run and hide like a coward from this new criminal element that threatened his life. A monorail train thundered past overhead. I will lay low, he thought. I will formulate a strategy. I will not fail. My time will come… He could only hope that fate saw things the same way.

***

Kato was pretty sure he hadn’t been spotted as he slipped into a dark, narrow alleyway, taking the shortcut to the apartment block where he’d been staying on 37th Street. The building was less than four hundred yards away now, and he was making good time. His feet scrunched on broken loose gravel, the sound muffled by the roaring of a generator suspended behind a wooden fence to his left, and as he hurtled down the alley, he began to feel more confident that he was going to escape the city without incident. Feelings of dread began to give way to a more pleasant feeling of elation. Not much further…soon I will be gone… perhaps I overestimated the Union Lizard… As the words passed out of his mind, he felt a sudden sense of gut-wrenching alarm that made the dread flare up inside him again. From about ten yards behind him, he heard the sound of multiple bodies leaping the wooden fence and hitting the gravel hard. In that instant, Kato instinctively knew that his time was up, that he’d been found. In one swift motion, he turned through one-hundred-eighty degrees to face the source of the noise, and there, sure enough, were four Union Lizard assassins, dressed in flowing dark robes and armed with katana swords. Kato crouched, his pulse racing, ready to defend himself, as the four robed figures began to close in silently, brandishing their weapons. Each of them wore black masks and the same strange, ritual robes, decorated with a woven picture of a golden dragon’s head on the chest area. “I am unarmed!” Kato hissed. “This is not bushido! Where is your honour?” He backed off slowly, horrified that he might not survive this encounter. The lead assassin’s eyes glared evilly beneath his mask. “You fool! The law of bushido does not apply here. We serve the Dragon Lord, who has returned to us, resurrected, as he promised he would. And you… are to be sacrificed … by his order!” Kato swallowed, trying to focus his thoughts, remembering his early training. His eyes darted between the attackers, looking for the best route to begin a taijutsu attack, but the alleyway was so narrow it left little room to maneovre in. “Dragon Lord?” Kato echoed, trying to stall for time. “Just what does that mean, exactly?” The lead assassin didn’t answer. Instead, he roared like a lunatic and charged, bringing the tip of his katana blade forwards, toward Kato’s chest. Kato’s eyes widened and he jerked sideways, dropped to his knees and executed a sweeping roundhouse kick that toppled the attacker to the ground, flat on his back. Without time

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to think, Kato launched into the air, flipped, and sent his feet crashing into the jaw of the second attacker, who was close behind. Kato landed on the gravel hard and tumbled head-over-heels, narrowly avoiding the sweeping strike of another katana that one of the others slashed down towards him. Grunting, he leapt to his feet and sent a flying kick to the nearest assassin, then suddenly – Thud! Kato’s vision went red, and he felt an immense burning heat across the back of his shoulderblades. He yelped out in agony, suddenly aware that he’d been struck by a katana blade, and fell to the ground. He made an effort to roll to one side and get up, but he was in too much pain. He slumped. The pain was a stinging, burning sensation that seemed to press through to his lungs, squeezing them like he’d smoked twenty cigars all at the same time. He coughed violently, bringing up blood. He went dizzy. All four assassins were now back on their feet, and they formed a circle around him, raising their swords into the air, preparing to make the killing blow. “May the Dragon Lord’s Will be done…” they chanted. Kato shook his head. He could taste warm salty blood in his mouth. It couldn’t end this way! Not here, not like this… He squeezed his eyes shut tight… Then suddenly, from somewhere down the alley, another voice shouted: “Hey! Assholes! Get away from him!” Kato blinked, and turned his head in the direction of the sound. He saw three figures emerging through the fog, carrying pipes and bats. He didn’t recognise two of them, but the third and largest figure, somehow seemed familiar… “Well, well, well,” one of the Union Lizard assassins chuckled and turned to face the newcomers. “If it isn’t our beloved mayor, Haggar, and his miserable friends, Guy and Cody….” The large man, Haggar, stepped forward, and Kato recognised him now – it really was the mayor of Metro City, Mike Haggar, a man he’d seen in the local papers many times. A former pro-wrestler turned city governor. “That’s right, you Union Lizard scum,” Haggar was saying. “And we’re cleaning up this city – from the likes of you…” “Attack the infidels!” the lead assassin cried, and the four of them charged towards Haggar and his two companions. Kato could do nothing but watch as the bloody fight raged in front of his eyes, before losing consciousness, tumbling and painlessly.

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2

Subashiri, Japan April 15th

The sun shone down gently and pleasantly over Mount Fuji, giving the summit of the dormant volcano a glowing, whitish appearance that glistened intensely in the mild heat. At the base of the mountain, nestled by Lake Kawaguchi, the bone-white buildings of Subashiri seemed to reflect the light equally as brightly. In the centre of Subashiri was the Oboro Dōjō, the only dōjō left in Japan that still followed the ways of the ancient Shinobi discipline. Founded during the 1980s by the legendary Shinobi Master Harada Maezumi, the dōjō was built on the original site of the Temple of Art, where the ancient Shinobi would have received their training, long before the last eruption of Mount Fuji. As the last known survivor of the Shinobi Purge of 1959, Harada built the dōjō as a place where he could pass on his knowledge of the Great Art, before his eventual death in 2018 at the hands of Neo Zeed assassins. Today the dōjō was primarily an archaeo-anthropological research organisation that continued Harada’s quest to discover many of Japan’s ancient secrets… including the nature of mystical ninjitsu magic unleashed through the ‘Essence of Jutsu’, a powerful artefact that originated from the Temple of Art six thousand years earlier… In the dōjō’s central courtyard, Joseph Musashi sat cross-legged on the stonework, his eyes closed. He was the oldest and greatest student ever trained by Harada Maezumi and the Oboro Dōjō’s most respected Shinobi warrior. As its present Master, Musashi was now finding himself taking apprentices of his own, continuing the age-old tradition that had served their Order for so many centuries. Musashi took a deep breath of the sun-heated air, held it, then let it out slowly, focusing his concentration on the moment, and nothing else. Calmly, he cleared his mind of all excess thoughts, and came into a state of pure being, awakened to his true nature. The meditation technique was one he had now mastered, and as the feeling of lucid oneness coursed through his veins, he opened his eyes, his senses perfectly attuned with his environment. A Force of Nature… Oneness with the Universe… The Essence of Jutsu… In this state, all greed, aversion, delusion, ignorance, craving and ego-centered consciousness were extinguished. He was simply being, nothing more, as if experiencing the moment on a higher, third-person perspective. He sat there for some time, contemplating the mysteries of existence, unaware of the great darkness that would soon descend upon him… ***

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The assistant walked briskly across the stonework of the main courtyard and stopped behind Musashi, hesitating. His name was Satsamo. He was young, one of the newer recruits to the dōjō and still quite inexperienced in their ways, but he had proven himself capable enough on several occasions. Right now, there was a matter of the utmost importance that required Master Musashi’s immediate attention. Satsamo swallowed dryly, then cleared his throat. “Sensei?” he said gingerly. He didn’t like having to disturb his master’s meditation, but this was important. Musashi stirred, taking deep breaths, coming awake. He opened his eyes, blinked, and turned to look at the youth calmly. “What is it, Satsamo-San?” “We have received an urgent message from the United States, sensei,” Satsamo told him, “for your eyes only, sensei. Your immediate attention is required. I’ve had the message patched through to your personal quarters, as per your instructions for such an occurrence, sensei.” Musashi raised his eyebrows. “The United States?” He knew many people in the United States, but none of them had ever contacted him directly before. “I see, well, it must be important then…thank you, Satsamo-San, I will see to it at once.” He stood and pulled on the ceremonial robes that identified him as the dōjō’s highest member, then made his way to his personal chamber on the other side of the compound.

***

The mechanical door to Musashi’s personal chamber slid open as he approached, and as he stepped over the threshold and walked inside, it whirred shut quietly behind him. It was the only door on the compound that was protected by retinal scanners and reinforced security; this was a room that housed some rare and powerful artefacts, and they couldn’t allow access to anyone who would try to steal from them. As the most secure room on the compound it afforded Musashi himself an appreciable level of privacy. Nobody could watch over his shoulder in here. He moved to his desk, where he had a holographic computer terminal set up, sat down then logged into his user account, bringing up his private messages. There, highlighted in red, was: UNITED STATES: URGENT PRIORITY: JOE MUSASHI (EYES ONLY) Musashi licked his lips, growing anxious. He waved one hand over the controls and opened the video message, wondering what could be so important to justify this message from the other side of the world. A fuzzy, 3-dimensional polygonal image fluttered onto the holographic display, the basic rendering of a human man’s facial structure. Then, as the computer finished generating skin texture and black hair, Musashi recognised the individual… It was Guy Carter, one of his former students, young, American, but a good fighter, who had left the Oboro Dōjō a year earlier… “Master Musashi…” the hologram said, Guy’s familiar husky voice coming over the computer speaker loudly and clearly. “Kato Hitoshi has been gravely wounded here in New York. He is in a critical condition, at Metro City Hospital… and he’s not expected to survive…”

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Musashi swallowed dryly. Kato…No! “He was targeted for assassination by Union Lizard,” Guy continued. “Luckily, my friends and I were able to intervene before they could finish the job. Please come at once, sensei. We need your help.” The holographic display turned to static, then went out. The computer blinked: END OF MESSAGE

Musashi took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair. Kato Hitoshi was a childhood friend of his. They had trained together under Harada Maezumi, had ventured to destroy the Zeed fortress together and returned alive… they were as brothers, and this news was most disturbing. He stood, determined to get to the bottom of this, and headed for the mechanical door. It allowed him to pass through, and he stepped outside into the courtyard. I must travel to America, he thought. I owe it to Kato. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. He heard the sound of hoofs clobbering the stonework, and his trusty steed walked into view. It was a beautiful white horse, large and powerful. Hurriedly, Musashi mounted the horse and took the reins. “Take me home, Cerbion,” he said to the animal. “Make haste.” The white horse reared, its front feet scratching at open air for a moment, then charged for the dōjō’s main gate and headed off down the dusty village road. *** Musashi dismounted the horse and patted its head, thanking it for its speed. Then he went inside the house, where Naoko, his wife, was waiting for him. “You have returned from the dōjō early, my love,” Naoko observed as he entered the living room, with a hint of a smile on her features. She was dressed in a flowery Oriental gown with dark-red armbands, her hair plaited at the back. Musashi went to her and kissed her longingly. “I love you, Naoko,” he said. He held her in his arms, a single tear streaming down his left cheek. “What’s wrong, my love?” she asked. “Why have you returned at this hour?” “I have just received some bad news,” he told her. “Kato has been gravely wounded in New York…” “Your old friend, Kato Hitoshi?” Naoko asked, taking a step back, a shocked expression coming over her face. “Oh dear. That’s horrible. What are you going to do, my love?” Musashi clenched his jaw muscles. “I must depart for Tokyo immediately, and travel to America. I must find out what is happening, for Kato’s sake, at least. I am to meet Guy Carter in New York…they need my help…” Naoko nodded, putting one slender arm around his back and gently rubbing him. “Be careful then, my love, if you must go. Do not forget that I am carrying your first child! I do not want our baby to lose its father before it is born!” She put one hand on her stomach.

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Musashi smiled. “Do not worry, Naoko. I will return to you soon enough.” He gave her one last kiss, packed a few items into a small suitcase, and then departed for Tokyo International Airport, where he would catch the first available flight. To America…

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3

Metro City Hospital

Musashi felt his anxiety level move up a notch as he crossed the busy, raindrenched multilane road, towards the main entrance of Metro City Hospital. The building loomed like a glistening hulk in the smoggy air, full of lights. The journey had taken almost twenty hours, and now that he was here, now that he’d finally reached his destination, he felt nervous for Kato’s sake. I only hope I am not too late… He moved through the main entrance and walked up to the reception desk. He was dressed in a casual denim jacket and jeans: an attempt to ‘blend in with his surroundings’. The blonde girl behind the desk glanced at his outfit, and frowned slightly. “Can I help you, sir?” she asked. “Yes, I’ve come to see a friend of mine who’s being treated here. Kato Hitoshi.” “Oh.” The girl looked down at her computer screen, and punched buttons. “Ah, yes. You must be Mr. Musashi. You’re expected.” She called to a group of male staffers who were loitering in the main corridor, and asked one called Dylan to escort Musashi to Kato’s room. Musashi politely thanked her for her assistance, then followed Dylan through the corridors of the hospital, who was happy to show him the way. “I saw Kato Hitoshi when he came in,” Dylan said as they walked, a sympathetic smile on his olive-brown features. “Friend of yours?” Musashi nodded, watching a team of doctors go past with an empty stretcher. “I’ve known Kato since I was a small boy,” he said. “He is like my brother. Tell me, what news of his condition?” Dylan led him around a corner and they passed a sign that read, “Ward 12”. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, “Kato was in a horrific state when he first came in, attacked by cultist gang members. He almost died, we had to use defib, but he’s stable now.” “Chances of survival?” Musashi asked. Dylan took a deep breath, stopping at the closed door to Kato’s room. He turned to face Musashi. “At this stage it doesn’t look good. You see, he’s losing blood rapidly. It is a very deep cut…and he’s non-responsive to cellular regeneration treatment. We have a limited supply of doner blood that we can use for transfusion, but he’s rapidly going through it. So far he’s had three complete transfusions. His injuries may prove too severe. We’re doing everything that we can to save him.” He moved his hand to the door and pushed it open, allowing Musashi to step in first. “After you…” Musashi nodded, then went in. He saw Kato wrapped in bandages, laying on the hospital bed. An intravenous line had been set up, and a female nurse stood to the right hand side, monitoring heartbeat output on a visual display unit. On the opposite

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side of the bed, Kato’s mother Alia sat in a plastic chair, praying for her son. She was sixty-two years old. Alia had lived in Subashiri her whole life until just a few years earlier, when she moved to the States to be closer to her son. She was a family friend, a very close friend of Naoko’s, and Musashi could tell immediately that she’d been crying. When she saw Musashi, Alia’s wrinkled face seemed to light up with joy. She couldn’t help but smile, blinking through her tears. “Joseph!” she chirped. “You made it!” She stood and went to give him a well-needed hug. Musashi returned the hug; not only to comfort Alia in this time of grief, but to alleviate his own feelings of remorse that had built up during his twenty-hour journey here. When the hug finished, he turned to Kato and walked closer to him. “Kato, my friend,” Musashi spoke. “Do you hear me?” Kato was unresponsive, his eyes closed, a tube coming out of his mouth. “He can’t respond,” Dylan said from behind them. “But he can understand what you’re saying.” He moved back toward the door. “I’ll let you have some privacy…” Musashi watched him go, then turned back to Kato. “Kato, my brother, I swear to you I will have vengeance on the ones that have done this.” Alia started to cry. Musashi looked at her. “An attack on your family is an attack on mine. For Kato’s honour I will hunt down this Union Lizard and take revenge. Our house will not be shamed by criminals...” He leaned closer to Kato’s ear. “I am to meet Guy Carter, here in New York… and his team. Do not worry, Kato. We’ll get them for you. Everything will be put right!” “Will it?” Alia asked solemnly from behind him. Musashi turned and took her hand. It was trembling. “Fear not, Alia,” he told her. “I do not fail.” Her eyes widened and she pulled away, regarding him for a moment. The she nodded, and whispered, “I believe you, Joseph, I believe you.” She swallowed dryly. “But promise me you will not fail this time!” Musashi bowed his head. “I swear by blood and honour.” Alia dried the tears from her eyes. She nodded. “Then I shall entrust you with Kato’s dog, Yamato. Kato often travels with the creature, and it has saved his life on several occassions. He is well-trained. I foresee his presence will bring you good fortune on this quest…” Musashi smiled, nodding his head. “If it pleases you, Alia, then I will adopt the animal. It is not a problem.” He turned to look at Kato again, decided he would leave immediately. “Farewell, Alia,” he said. “I will come to collect the animal in due course… and farewell, Kato. I wish you a swift recovery.” His eyes went to the floor, then he turned to leave. As he strolled back down the Ward 12 corridor, he couldn’t help but think he’d never see Kato alive again…

***

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As Musashi stepped out of the hospital doors and made his way down the concrete steps to the sidewalk, he noticed that it had stopped raining. The sky was clear, and the sun was shining brightly from the east. He turned and started walking along the sidewalk, then heard his name shouted from somewhere behind him. “Hey, Joe!” He stopped, turned to face the direction of the sound, and saw a red sports car pull up, four doors, black-tinted windows, sleek and expensive. The passengerside door window was open, and he saw Guy Carter, wearing sunglasses, chewing a wad of gum, a smile on his face. “Good to see you, sensei.” “Likewise,” Musashi bowed. “Hop in.” The rear door behind Guy’s seat opened from inside. Musashi strafed to his right and climbed in, closing the door behind him. As he settled into his seat, he saw that Mike Haggar, Metro City’s mayor, was in the driver’s seat, and a third man he didn’t recognise was seated behind. “Joe Musashi, I’d like you to meet Mayor Haggar and Cody, two very close friends of mine,” Guy said from where he sat up front. Musashi exchanged greetings with them, and then they were off, cruising down the main road and turning corners. The car’s sunroof was open, letting in fresh air. “Thanks for your swift attention in this matter, Mr. Musashi,” Mike Haggar said, his eyes on the road. “As the mayor of this town I have to take this incident very seriously.” Musashi nodded. “I thank you for taking the action you did to save Kato’s life, and for informing me... tell me, how did this happen?” “We’ve been cleaning the streets of Metro City for several weeks now,” Haggar explained. “You see, Metro is firmly in the grip of a criminal organisation called ‘Mad Gear’, it has been for years... and now we’re taking the fight to them, in an effort to drive them out of Metro City for good. Recently, since Union Lizard forces started operating in the city, there has been a huge turf war between both Mad Gear and Union Lizard. We’ve had to start dealing with thugs from both groups.” “I see,” Musashi said. “It’s a personal fight for all of us,” Guy said. Haggar nodded. “When I took office as the new mayor of the city, Mad Gear wanted me to let them do as they please in exchange for bribes, like my predecessor did. But I refused, vowing to fight them out of Metro and clean up the streets for good. They didn’t take lightly to that… so they kidnapped Jessica, my daughter, and are threatening to kill her if I don’t comply with their demands…” Cody gritted his teeth. “Motherfuckers! Jessica is my girlfriend…” Guy turned to Musashi. “She’s my friend too. This is why we’ve asked for your help, sensei. The presence of Union Lizard in this town is making it very difficult for us to take on Mad Gear; we can’t sidetrack to hunt down Union Lizard because we need to rescue Jessica, and we’re rapidly running out of time.” “I understand,” Musashi said. “You did the right thing by contacting me, Guy. I have already promised Kato’s mother that I will hunt down the Union Lizard at its source.” Haggar nodded, smiling. “Great! Your assistance in this matter will not go unrewarded, Mr. Musashi…” Musashi looked out the car window at the streets of Metro. “Vengeance for the attack on Kato will be reward enough for me….” He returned his gaze to Haggar, and

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then stopped on Guy. “I will need to know everything you know about Union Lizard…” “Yeah,” Guy said, raising his eyebrows. “So how about a bite to eat?”

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4 Turf War

The restaurant was large and well laid out, its style reminiscent of an old American diner from the 1950s. A glass block and neon light service counter dominated the interior, with a preparation area against the back wall and floormounted stools for the customers in front. Joe Musashi, Guy Carter, Mike Haggar and Cody Travers sat in a stainless steel booth, the row of booths running against the front wall and at the ends. Each booth was sound proof, with a wooden door that could be closed if desired. Indeed, that was why they had chosen this place: the seclusion offered by the booths allowed them to talk in privacy… The wooden door to their booth opened. The smell of freshly cooked food wafted strongly in the air, and a waitress promptly appeared beside their table and asked them if they were ready to order. Haggar nodded, ordering a steak meal for himself. “I want the meat well done,” he told her, fondling the laminated menu in his large hands. “Certainly sir,” she replied politely, a beaming smile on her kind, pretty features. According to her name tag, she was called ‘Lucy’. “Would you like anything to drink with that?” she asked. Haggar winked at her. “Lucy, give me the strongest thing you’ve got.” She giggled. “You got it, mister.” “I’ll have the barbecue chicken wings,” Cody parped in. “Extra fries, and a coke, thanks.” Guy ordered the same as Cody, while Musashi ordered sushi and some kind of fish-paste soup, with orange juice. “It reminds me of home,” he told them. “Naoko makes the best sushi in Japan, I swear by it!” Lucy thanked them for their order then left, closing the booth door behind her as she went. “Hope it doesn’t take too long,” Cody said to no-one in particular. “I’m starving…” Cody Travers was a fifth-degree black belt in karate, and a seasoned fighter when it came to taking down Mad Gear. He had already defeated Damnd, Edi E, and Abigail, some of their worst members. His involvement here was personal after all – his girlfriend, Haggar’s daughter Jessica, was being held hostage. Haggar nodded. “Yeah, me too. Perhaps we should get straight down to business. Mr. Musashi, just how much do you know about the Union Lizard organisation?” Musashi took a deep breath. “Not much. Only that they are powerful, and multinational. A splinter group formed from the New Syndicate’s gangs in the aftermath of its collapse…” “That’s right,” Cody said, an icy tone in his voice as he spoke. “The New Syndicate. The fucking United Nations of crime. Union Lizard was originally one of the many different gangs that made up its constituent members, but it was relatively small and unremarkable back then. When the New Syndicate collapsed, Union Lizard grew in power and influence during the infighting of the Syndicate Wars. It absorbed many of the smaller, less ‘fortunate’ groups.”

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“I see,” Musashi said. “So they have become a considerable force to be reckoned with.” Guy nodded. “That’s one way of putting it, Joe. We know that their leader is a man named Sauros, a former New Syndicate Councillor. Their central headquarters is said to be located in Neo London, England.” The door opened, and Lucy arrived with a service trolley on wheels, their hot meals cooked and ready to eat. She passed them their meals and drinks, then smiled again. “Enjoy your meal,” she said, and vanished through the wooden door. Musashi stabbed at his sushi with a fork, brought it to his nose and sniffed it curiously, then began putting it away in earnest. The chef was inspired, but it still wasn’t a scratch on Naoko’s home cooking. “Neo London?” he said between mouthfuls, his gaze firmly planted on Guy’s face. “Isn’t that a bit of a strange place for Union Lizard to operate from? That has to be one of the most advanced and protected cities on the planet…” “Yes,” Haggar barked. “It is. The most advanced city on earth, and the centre of global power after the New World Order was formed…” “In order to operate from such a place we suspect there is some kind of foul play involved,” Guy told Musashi. “Someone in the highest levels of world government has an interest in Union Lizard’s foothold on global organised crime.” Musashi nodded. “Interesting. I will have to journey to Neo London as soon as possible then, in order to root out this… ‘Sauros’… and eliminate Union Lizard for good. The attack on Kato has personally motivated me to destroy them. I will not fail... What more can you tell me about them?” Haggar finished chewing a mouthful of his steak thoughtfully, swallowed it, and said, “Their leader, Sauros, has a secret weapon.” “Oh?” “If Sauros were Dr. Frankenstein, then Jet would be Frankenstein’s monster.” “Jet?” Musashi repeated. “I don’t understand.” Haggar nodded. “Some kind of experiment I heard. A mixture of the Syndicate’s Project Y technology, combined with some stolen material from the Space Program, to create a …well, abomination is the right word for you, in all honestly.” “I heard that Jet never speaks,” Cody added. “He’s mute and insane.” Musashi frowned. “This… ‘Jet’…is a person?” Haggar shook his head. “Well, not exactly. A cyborg would be a more accurate description. Though we’ve never had the pleasure of fighting the freak ourselves, he is said to be extremely tough. You’ll want to be extra careful when confronting Sauros, because Jet will be nearby. You can count on it.” Musashi grimaced and put his fork down on his plate. He had only eaten half of the meal, but he was getting full already. It would be enough. “I will need some help then,” he said, “if Union Lizard is as powerful as you say. It sounds like a task for more than any one man.” Haggar clenched his jaw. Nodded. “I’ll see if I can contact Max Hatchett. He’s an old wrestling friend of mine who’s now working with Firestorm, the international detective agency…” The hint of a smile played over Musashi’s features as he downed the contents of his glass. “Yes, I’m familiar with Max Hatchett and Firestorm,” he said, placing the glass down softly on the table. “I worked with them to take down Neo Zeed and the

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founders of the New Syndicate three years ago. I foresee that they could be a great help on this mission.” “Last I heard on the news, Firestorm is somewhere in Russia,” Haggar said. “Tracking down the Black Guards terrorist group. They were doing well, if I remember correctly, virtually cleaned up the entire area. I’m sure they’ll agree the situation with Union Lizard warrents their attention, so I’ll contact Max as soon as possible.” “Thankyou. I’ll appreciate that,” Musashi told him, and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. His situation had suddenly became a lot more complicated, and dangerous. With Firestorm’s help, just maybe, there would be greater hope of victory over this new and very real evil...

*** The four of them stood at the service counter while Haggar took care of the bill. He paid in cash, thanking the employee for the good service. As they turned to leave, an incendiary blast from somewhere outside nearly knocked them all to the ground. The front window of the restaurant shattered and exploded inwards, the glass shards spidering and smashing in a deadly shower. The ground shook, the sound an insane, crashing roar, followed by the shouting and screaming of confused bystanders. The restaurant’s clientele erupted into chaos. “Bomb!” Cody shouted, covering his head from the flying debris that sailed in their direction. Suddenly, from outside, they heard a voice shouting: “They’re here! Mad Gear is here! Run for your lives!” “Shit!” Haggar cursed. “Mad Gear! That’s all we need right now…” Cody flexed his muscles, getting ready for action. “Looks like the talking will have to wait, guys. We’ve got Mad Gear punks to take care of!” Guy nodded, reaching to the blade he had holstered over his back, and gently slid it out of its protective sheath. It was a Masamune katana, beautifully crafted in Japan, and its surface glistened in the light. “Are you ready for this, my old Master?” he said to Musashi, a smile playing over his features. Musashi grinned, half-amused. “Let this be a warmup, my old apprentice. I am unarmed, but that has never stopped me before. See if you can keep up!” In an instant he was ghosting his way out the main entrance and turning into the street outside. “Christ, he’s fast!” Cody observed, his eyebrows raised. Guy nodded. “He’s the best there is. Come on, let’s get out there!”

***

The street outside was like a warzone. Fires raged, the aftermath of the explosion having left the area a smoking, smouldering ruin. Musashi ghosted his way through the fiery chaos, silently and invisibly moving between cover, towards the approaching swarm of Mad Gear criminals. He could see twenty, maybe thirty of

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them at ninety yards distance. Behind him, he heard Guy and the others closely following him. He passed an overturned, burning schoolbus and started taking deep breaths, focusing his concentration, preparing for battle. He centred himself, switching off his emotions, reaching a place of ruthless efficiency, then plunged out into the open, rolling to his left across the street in front of the advancing rabble, who were less than ten yards away now, coming up in a Shinobi fighting stance. The Mad Gear crowd spotted Musashi and started walking towards him menacingly. They were a motley bunch, and carried all kinds of weapons: knives, poles, bats, swords, even hand grenades. Then, from behind Musashi, Guy, Haggar and Cody emerged from behind the overturned schoolbus, surprising the crowd. “Well, well, well,” Guy was saying. “How pleasant of you to join us, Sodom…” A huge American man dressed in armoured kabuto stepped forward out of the Mad Gear crowd. Standing at six foot seven, he was easily the tallest among them, and he wielded two katana swords. “Guy Carter,” he spat. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?” Guy grinned, brandishing his weapon. “Ready for another ass-whooping, Sodom? You know you’re no match for a true Japanese warrior…” “Metro City is ours!” Sodom roared and charged forward, bringing his katanas down towards Guy. Guy dashed to intercept him, bringing the blade of his masamune clashing against Sodom’s, the sound of clattering metal signalling the start of the battle. Musashi immediately launched himself at the nearest Mad Gear goon, taking him out single-handedly with the minimum of effort, then flipped himself through the air towards the next. He sent his fists sailing down on a large goon’s head, then expertly turned and sent a vertical kick to another’s face. To his right, Cody rushed into the crowd, his fists flying, cracking the jaws of multiple thugs, using his knees and elbows to keep the swarm at bay. Haggar followed Cody, grabbing one of the larger thugs who came at them with a bootknife, a man named Andore, and brought him crashing to the ground in a German Suplex backdrop. Andore screamed. He didn’t get back up. More goons piled at Haggar from behind as he got to his feet. Gritting his teeth, he turned and executed a spinning clothesline maneauvore, smashing their faces with his considerable fists. Blood sprayed from snapped and broken bones. “You are outnumbered,” Sodom said gleefully as he duelled with Guy, their deadly blades swinging and clashing in the air with fierce intensity. Guy didn’t answer, instead trying to concentrate all his energies on the fight. He dipped to avoid Sodom’s high attack, dropped to the floor and swung his masamune blade forward, slicing Sodom’s kneecaps. Sodom roared and stumbled back, swinging his two katana down, but Guy was too fast, leaping back away from the strike then countering with a powerful straight swing, aiming at Sodom’s head. “Close!” Sodom taunted, arching back as the tip of Guy’s masamune skimmed the air in front of his face. “But not close enough!” He sent his right foot out then flipped through the air, bringing his swords crashing down. Guy dodged to his left, taking advantage of Sodom’s moment of weakness, and sliced his masamune down in a wide, clean arc…

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- and Sodom’s left arm fell to the ground, severed, in a gruesome shower of blood. Sodom squealed in horror, panicking, using his right arm to chop frantically at the air. “I’ll kill you…” Then, from his left, Joe Musashi appeared in the crowd and launched several shurikens at Sodom’s torso. The metal ninja stars stuck sharply into Sodom’s flesh, tearing straight through his imitation armour like butter. Musashi nodded briefly at Guy, before disappearing into the crowd again. Guy smiled, and moved to finish the job. “You’ll never stop Mad Gear,” Sodom coughed, bringing up blood. “Belger is too smart…” Guy gritted his teeth and brought the tip of his masamune sharply down into Sodom’s skull, killing him in a gory mess of red and blackened brain tissue and ligaments. “That’s what they all say,” he muttered, then spat on the corpse. Suddenly, he heard Cody shouting, “Hey, what are they doing?” He turned, pulling his sword free, and saw Cody giving chase to a dozen or so of the thugs who seemed to be retreating down a side alley. “Cody, wait!” Guy cried, and gave chase. Not far from their position, Haggar was clobbering heads together. When he saw Cody and Guy, and what was waiting for them down the alley, his eyes widened… “Holy shit! Union Lizard!” Dozens of Union Lizard assassins were running into battle towards them from down the alley, ready to join the fray. Cody and Guy, taken by surprise, were forced to hold their position, fighting defensively, until Haggar and Musashi could join them from the rapidly declining numbers of Mad Gear thugs… “Looks like we’ve found ourselves in the middle of another turf war!” Cody shouted as he sent his right fist squarely into a Union Lizard assassin’s mouth. “Yes,” Haggar agreed. “The Union Lizard is attacking Mad Gear. They want to wrestle control of the streets from them…” “At this rate, they’re going to succeed…” Guy observed, but was cut off suddenly as an old military-style helicopter hovered into view overhead, opening fire with twin miniguns, cutting down the advancing Union Lizard forces. “What’s going on?” Musashi cried over the noise, leaping for cover. “It’s Rolento!” Haggar cursed. “Former Red-Beret turned Mad Gear terrorist! He controls the city’s industrial district…” Rolento Schugerg was one of Mad Gear’s top members, insane, and a blood-brother of Sodom. “Our situation has not improved…” Guy frowned, unable to do much but run as a hail of bullets screamed overhead, rip-roaring into the flailing bodies of multiple Union Lizard thugs. Rolento would not be pleased when he learned of Sodom’s death… Taking advantage of the confusion of battle, Haggar insisted that they make a tactical retreat. “Okay guys, this situation is rapidly getting out of control. We’re going to need heavier weapons, and a proper plan if we’re going to take down Rolento and that damn helicopter. Let’s get out of here, while we still can!” They broke for cover in the direction they had come.

***

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When they were sure they had reached a safe distance from the battle, they stopped by a park bench for a rest, trying to catch their breath and recover from the shocking sequence of events that had just transpired. Cody sat on the bench, his head in his hands, shaking, while Guy paced, his face pale. Haggar was still slightly shaken from the bomb blast, but was otherwise fine, and Musashi was his usual cool, unaffected self. “Now do you see the gravity of the situation here in Metro?” Guy asked Musashi, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Musashi looked at him out the corner of his eye and nodded. “Indeed, Guy. It would seem you have your work cut out for you here.” Haggar licked his lips. “That’s an understatement. These bastards have kidnapped my daughter. Union Lizard is not making the situation here any easier!” “As you said earlier,” Musashi smiled. Then his smile dropped, and a look of absolute seriousness came over his face. “Friends, I have decided that I must leave at once. Let me take this opportunity to thank you all for everything you have done to assist me in my quest. But I must leave for Neo London immediately.” Guy nodded. “Okay. Yes. It’s important that you get started as soon as possible.” Cody swallowed dryly and looked up at them from where he was sitting. “Good luck, Musashi. It was good to finally meet you, and see you in action.” Musashi bowed. “Likewise. And I wish the three of you good luck in your quest to defeat Mad Gear. I hope you are able to rescue… Jessica… in time.” He smiled. He shook hands with Cody and Guy, then Haggar. “I’ll make that call to Max Hatchett,” Haggar promised, the grip of his handshake firm and sure. Musashi nodded. “Thankyou. And once again, good luck. Perhaps we will meet again someday…” He turned, took one last look at them, then was running through the grass, jumping over a hedge, crossing the land. His quest had only just begun…

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5

The Council of Nine

The meeting room was a study in quiet but unpretentious elegance, located in an undersea facility at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. Nine men sat at a long, stately oak table in the middle of the room, with paper dossiers and reports opened in front of them. Two other figures stood cloaked in the shadows by the window, looking out at the watery exterior. After the nine men had finished reviewing the report, the tea drinker picked up his cup and gingerly sipped at the hot liquid, then set his cup down on its saucer with a rattle. “I have to admit,” he said, looking at the two men by the window, “that this could not have come at a better time, my Lord. This changes everything. “ An elderly man with a groomed moustache nodded. “Indeed it does. So, erm…” he swallowed and licked his lips, turning to face the men at the window, “my Lord… it is really you?” The two men at the window turned to face the group. Still cloaked in shadow, they did not move to enter the light. The tallest one said, “Now do you believe my power? Yes, it is I,” his voice dark and booming. “The Dragon Lord. Who else could have possibly reunited this council?” Moustache swallowed, then lowered his gaze, nodding to himself as his eyes went back to the report on the table. “You realise that the gangs we used to control have been warring amongst themselves for years now, and that our numbers are vastly depleted…” “I know All…” The Dragon Lord muttered. The man who always wore green leaned forward and said, “The so-called Syndicate Wars may have depleted our numbers, my Lord, but they have also scattered the military and law enforcement agencies of the NWO the world over. Many countries are virtually defenceless right now.” “Everything that has transpired has done so according to my design,” the Dragon Lord reassured him. “With the world distracted by these ‘Syndicate Wars’ and believing me to be dead, I can make my final move for domination: at last, we will witness the culmination of Operation Shadow Hand!” The man with hair protruding from the sides of his head smiled. “The third and final phase of Project Y is already in progress, gentlemen, and is gearing up for implementation. Five thousand units are ready, with ten thousand more well underway. All we need is your cooperation, and we can all still achieve the utopia we have wrongfully been deprived of…” The tea drinker finished his cup and set it down one last time. “Ah…well I believe I speak for everyone here when I say, we’re with you, my Lord.” “Good,” The Dragon Lord said. “Then we will begin mass-production of the units worldwide immediately. I want them to be ready, for when the time comes...”

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6

Premonitions

Blaze Fielding slept. In her dreams, she was running through a dense forest, trying to escape from the hideous visage of a gigantic beast, a black dragon, that crashed after her through the hazy, stormy darkness. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, but somehow, it just wasn’t enough. She was being slowly dragged back, as though wading through thick sludge that enveloped her form, slowly sucking her in. In the confusion, she took a glance back at the black dragon that pursued her. It was enormous, completely engulfing the horizon. A head easily as large as a city; piercing, calculating reptilian eyes the size of ten city blocks, its unfathomable wingspan beating the air around her into a hurricane. Its entire body was blackened and burned, heavily scarred, and a dark aura seemed to be present… a hideously dark aura born of rage, hate, and utter malice. She could feel it… She gasped for breath. Could hardly breathe it was so fucking intense. She could fucking feel the Black Dragon’s aura, could feel the absolute hatred, the unrelenting, twisted rage that thundered towards her. It wanted to kill her. It hated her. With a vengeance. She ran into a clearing, blinking back tears, wanting nothing more than to rest, to just sit down and just be at peace. But she cried out in exasperation, using all her will to force her legs to move through the sludgy, rain-soaked dreamscape. Slowly, she was being paralysed. And now that she was here, the Black Dragon wasn’t going to let her escape. Not ever. It was going to have its wicked way with her, whether she liked it or not… Fuck no! What have I done to deserve this? she thought, unable to do much but squirm weightlessly in mid-air, her arms outstretched. The Dragon was so close now, it was virtually all around her. As it came close enough, it brought down its vast head and barred its teeth, each of which was the size of three large skyscrapers. Then it opened its mouth and roared, the sound absolutely deafening, cosmic intensity. Blaze shook her head, cowering in fear. The Dragon’s dark aura was so intense, it seemed to completely overpower her own, and made her feel weak, pathetic, helpless, insignificant… In that moment, she finally submitted. Her body went limp. She could struggle no more against the shroud… But wait! Something was happening. The Dragon… it was changing somehow… She blinked, and squinted her eyes, trying to focus the distorted images around her. And then she saw the silhouette of a man forming out of the gloss of morphing colours…

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“I am the flesh…” the man was saying. “I am the Dragon. I am God incarnated, the eternal soul…” “My…My God?” Blaze mumbled. She didn’t know what to think anymore… After another moment, all she wanted to do was die.

***

“Blaze!” In the bottomless darkness of her dreams, she stirred. “Blaze, wake up!” In that moment, she was aware that she was dreaming, a sudden, relieving separation that sent adrenaline coursing through her system, shocking her awake. Axel Stone had her by the shoulders, lightly shaking her out of it. “It’s allright, hon, it’s just a dream!” he was saying. “We’re on the plane, remember…?” She sat up sharply in her seat, the reality of her situation dawning on her. She was on the private plane that Adam had chartered, and they were on their way to Neo London, to hunt down Union Lizard. The memory of the dream lingered, but at least the Dragon was gone… the pain slowly fading as sunlight glimmered through the seat window, dazzling lightly on her face. “You okay?” Axel asked her. His blonde hair was matted to one side with gel, his skin sun-kissed and tanned, his piercing blue eyes set into a look of concern. He was seated next to her. “You sounded like you were dying…” Blaze nodded, taking in her surroundings, coming to her senses. The chartered jet from Moscow to Neo London was small and luxurious, the monotonous whine of the engines rumbling beneath their starboard side blue leather seats. They sat on the wing, its glistening metallic surface stretching away from the window beside them. “Adam is up front with the pilot,” Axel said. “Max and Skate are sitting two rows behind us…” “Oooh…yeah, sorry Axel, I…” She blushed. “I haven’t had a dream like that in a long time… it… was unpleasant…” “One of your nightmares?” he asked. “Yeah.” She shook her head, her mouth set into a grim smile. “What happened?” She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. No; she wouldn’t tell him, not now. She needed to get her own head around exactly what had happened in the dream before confiding it to anyone else. She smiled. “I’ll tell you later, Axel. Give me a chance to come to, first...” Axel nodded once, then took a deep breath and cleared his throat as Max approached from behind them. “Hey guys,” Max said quietly. “Blaze, what’s up? I heard some commotion…” “Just a dream,” she told him, and smiled tartly. Axel and Max exchanged glances. “Forget it Max, I’m fine.” Blaze said and looked at Axel, who didn’t seem too convinced. She raised her eyebrows. “Really, I’m fine, guys – for now. What’s the situation, Max?”

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Max inhaled sharply. “Adam has an underworld contact in Neo London that has information we can use to hunt down the Union Lizard… Deezee Kujaku… and we’ve arranged to meet him in person at a bar called “the Shakespeare”. We should be landing at New Heathrow within the next twenty minutes or so.” “Okay,” Blaze nodded, putting the thoughts of the dream and its implications to the back of her mind for now. “Good work, guys. So can we trust this Deezee, do you think?” “I hope so,” Max replied. “Apparently Adam used to knock about with him when they were kids, so I’m guessing he’s a good guy.” There was silence for a moment as they contemplated the mission ahead of them. Blaze Fielding was tired, but was otherwise fine, and would be able to fight Union Lizard regardless of her personal feelings and the fact she was having nightmares again. She was a powerful fighter, Firestorm’s greatest asset in the fight against the Syndicate Remnant, and it’s founding member. She would deliver the goods, so to speak, as she always did. She had dedicated her life to that end. Axel Stone was concerned for Blaze, he loved her after all, but his feelings for her couldn’t stand in the way of the mission, he never allowed them to. He always remained focused, ready, prepared for action whenever taking the fight to the enemy. No longer the leader of the team, Axel’s opinions were nevertheless always valued by Blaze Fielding when she made command decisions as leader of Firestorm. Max Hatchett was their weapons-master, the driver with his fingers-in-manypies, and a damn good wrestler, the local champion in his pro-wrestling heyday. He was also a former businessman. “Union Lizard has become surprisingly large in a small amount of time,” Max said after a while. “Exactly how, we’re not sure yet.” “What’s the source on this one?” Blaze asked. “Mike Haggar, the mayor of Metro City, in New York,” Max told her. “A contact of mine from the underground wrestling scene way back when. The situation is more dangerous than you realise, Blaze. I know we haven’t had much time to fill you in since you returned from your solo mission in Saint Petersburg… We’re also going to be meeting our old friend Joe Musashi, who is after Union Lizard too… he wants our help.” “Right,” Blaze said. “Joe Musashi, okay, sounds good.” Then she grinned. “I’m exhausted. We never seem to get a break do we?” Axel gave her a warm, knowing smile, but didn’t answer. “Hey look – I think we’re landing.”

*** New Heathrow International was the largest airport in the world, and certainly the busiest. After the pilot had received clearance to land, he banked the plane’s controls and began his descent, lowering the landing gear with well-rehearsed ease and going in, guided by the air traffic controllers on the ground. Soon the private plane touched down safely on the runway and trundled to a stop by a large ramp that would allow the passengers to step down onto the tarmac. Adam Hunter thanked the pilot for a smooth ride, then went back into the main galley to inform the others. “We’re clear,” he told Axel. “We have arrived in Neo London.” Axel nodded briskly, unbuckled his seatbelt and got to his feet. “Great,” he smiled. “Then let the game begin.”

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7

Neo London April 19th

As Blaze, Axel, and Adam groped their way through the thick smog and gas that enveloped the lower levels of Neo London’s streets, they could hear bursts of drunken laughter from the crowded dives. Max and Skate were close behind them, cautiously watching their six. These roads were virtually unused by the city’s population, cars left abandoned and vandalised everywhere. It was a hive for criminal scum, gang members, junkies and prostitutes, and all the rest of Neo London’s less tasteful citizens. Down here, on street level, Neo London was dangerous, rotten to the core. Blaze looked up. The sight above them was magnificent. Tall, glittering skyscrapers stretched as far as the eye could see overhead, intersected by lanes of air traffic that moved vertically as well as horizontally. It was the world’s first true megacity, the ‘city in the clouds’. The rich and famous, the politicians and most of society’s ‘better’ elements were up there, living in the higher depths of the tall skyscrapers, having cut themselves off from the streets at ground level, seemingly ignorant of the true state of affairs here in Neo London. Apparently so, she thought. They walked past the main concentration of bars on either side of Soho Square, turning down an alleyway and opening an unmarked door. Warm air, heavy with the smell of marijuana and alcohol, invaded their nostrils. A dark-skinned man in his early twenties was sitting at a corner table, and when he spotted Adam Hunter, he beckoned them over. Deezee was a good fighter, according to Adam, a street fighter, who had grown up with Adam back in his schooldays in Chicago; an up-and-coming karate black belt who partook in illegal street-fights, now living here in Neo London. Adam had contacted Deezee as soon as he knew that they would be coming here, for if anybody could help locate Union Lizard, then Deezee was their guy. Whenever Adam was in Neo London on FBI missions, he and Deezee made it a habit to meet at this place, The Shakespeare, a secluded watering hole, frequented mostly by retired old men, where the alcohol was cheap and not usually lethal, a place that criminals generally tended to stay away from. Deezee Kujaku seemed strangely subdued. Normally a boisterous guy who could be counted on to accuse the waiter jokingly of over-charging, he ordered a round by silently raising two fingers. Even more surprising, the frugal muscleman paid for the drinks. He kept his voice low, nervously tugging at his pointed little black beard, and glanced nervously at other tables where weary strangers hunched over their glasses. A shifty-looking man somewhere in his forties pressed a Fire capsule into his

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neck and inhaled sharply. Satisfied that their conversation was private, Deezee raised his drink and they clinked glasses. “Good to see you again Adam,” he said with a big grin on his face, then downed his drink and softly placed the glass down on the table in front of him. “It’s a pleasure to finally get to meet the other members of Firestorm too… Adam has told me much about you – the rest, I see on the news!” he shook Blaze Fielding’s hand slowly, looking into her eyes. “And it’s a very special privilege to meet you in person, Miss Fielding.” Blaze smiled, blushing slightly. “Knock it off, smoothy.” “Let’s get down to business,” Axel said seriously. “We need to track down…” he lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned forward. “Union Lizard.” “Yes,” Deezee said. “I have heard whispers. I think I can help you… I know of a street entertainer that operates every night not far from here, calling himself the Kangaroo Master. He has a boxing kangaroo, you see, and he beats it into fights for sports and money. His name is Bruce, I think. Yes, that’s it.” “How is he connected?” Axel asked. “I’ve heard that he is a Union Lizard crony, and he uses his dirty profits to help fund their operations in this district. We can see him ‘perform’ with the kangaroo in public tonight at eight as he always does, by the Marble Arch. I will take you.” “Good,” Adam said, nodding. “Thanks, Deezee.” Suddenly, a bottle flew through the air and smashed violently on the floor beside their table, spilling liquid. A drunken man was standing there fuming, drawing a knife. “I know you people,” he said. “You’re the ones, the ones who did this to me! The ones who took it all away! The enemies of the Dragon!” Blaze raised her eyebrows. She could feel her aura flowing lightly inside of her. “What did you just say?” He roared, and charged forward, raising the knife. Blaze got to her feet in an instant, jerking back her chair, and threw her right arm forward, gesturing towards him. He yelped, seized by an invisible force that sent him flying back, crashing to the ground. “Zack! Get the others!” someone at the bar cried. Axel, Deezee and the others got to their feet, and suddenly the bar was filling with Union Lizard thugs. “Shit!” Skate shouted. He was Adam Hunter’s younger brother, now in his early twenties, and Firestorm’s man for scouting and surveillance. “We’re in deeper than I suspected.” Deezee nodded. “We’re slap bang in the middle of their territory, mate.” He looked at Skate, continuing to nod. “They’re bigger than ever before. It’s bad here…” Max chuckled, flexing his muscles and assuming a fighting stance as the Union Lizard thugs marched around them, beginning to move in. “Then it’s a bar fight.” He yawned jokingly. “Oh, well.” Skate grinned, assuming his stance. Now a powerful kickboxer, he nonetheless still wore his trademark rollerblades, to give him that extra edge in combat that had given him his nickname. Underneath, Eddie Hunter could fight flat-footed. Right now, he was glad he had his skates on. “Ready.” Blaze’s body started to emit fire like energy, and she drifted forward, towards the attackers. Her eyes turned white, glowing intensely, as she charged her inner aura, bringing it through her arms, willing forth the great power she possessed. Then she

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flipped into the air, coming crashing down on a thug with a baseball bat and threw her arms forward. The air in front of them went hot and distorted, and an invisible shockwave cut into the first wave of attackers, slicing their bodies, their spluttered corpses dropping to the ground instantly. Blaze’s breaths came in ragged gasps, and sweat beaded on her forehead. She swung back her long dark hair and grinned as the second wave of attackers hesitated. “Let’s do this!” Axel shouted, and charged forth. The fight had begun.

*** Joe Musashi walked briskly down the 775th level of Neo London’s tallest skyscraper, with an albino Alsatian dog in tow, a creature he had ‘adopted’ upon leaving New York. They walked across a polished and gleaming metallic floor, passing huge clear windows to their left that looked out at the heart of Neo London’s bustling commercial district. The glittering visage of other skyscrapers and docking platforms dominated the view from the window, and air traffic soared past silently, the noise muted completely by the sound-proof clearflex. To their right, they passed attractive-looking pressure doors, the offices of Neo London’s largest and most lucrative businesses, megacorps and conglomerates. Some of the richest and most important people in the world worked in this building... …and some of the most dangerous too, for that matter… Just prior to his departure from the United States, Musashi had learned from Kato’s mother that Kato had indeed died at the hospital in Metro City: he hadn’t survived the night. Kato Hitoshi is dead… The news had brought Musashi to tears, had crushed him emotionally in a way more intense than he had ever expected such news would. Kato had been his childhood friend, the man that he had trained under Harada Maezumi and grew up with, the man who had joined him to hunt down and destroy the Zeed… a man he had proudly called brother. Now that Kato was dead, it was like a cavity opening in his heart, a gaping hole that could not be healed easily, nor forgotten. Kato had been murdered without honour, killed by Union Lizard, and Joe Musashi swore there and then that he absolutely would not rest until those responsible were brought to justice. His revenge would be swift and decisive. He would not stop until Sauros himself was dead at his feet. A large cargo hauler spilled past the window to his left, briefly blocking the sunlight for a moment, then was gone, joining a vertical traffic lane and moving to some unknown facility deep in the bowels of the city. Musashi watched it go, then his gaze went to the polished floor beneath his feet, and to the dog that was closely following him. He had promised to Kato’s mother that he would watch over the dog, which had been such a faithful companion to Kato, and he had indeed ‘adopted’ the creature, named ‘Yamato’, after another friend long gone… Now the only true survivor of the Zeed is me, Musashi thought. He marched slightly ahead of the dog, barely aware of its presence. It would follow him anywhere, as if it could sense exactly what had happened with its former owner and what was going on around it. Its presence was not a hindrance to him, in fact he was

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comfortable with the animal, and as they rounded a corner and headed towards the nearest exit on this level, Musashi cleared his mind and tried to steady himself, then spoke quietly but firmly. “Wait.” The dog sat, and looked up at Musashi as he called for the turbo lift by activating the controls by the window. As they waited, Musashi looked at the dog and smiled. Then the smile was gone, eaten away by his years of Shinobi teachings and disciplines. The turbo lift door slid open, and he led the dog inside, pressing the control for level 700. The door closed, and the reinforced glass elevator began its descent down the outside of the building. Through the glass, they had a breathtaking view of the city and the streams of air traffic outside. It was noon, the sun visible far above them, casting pleasant rays down on them, lightly heating the air. Musashi watched the air traffic, blown away at just how far technology had advanced in the past twenty years alone. Advanced and patented ‘AirVehicles’ pioneered by scientists and recently put into mass production by TTech Incorporated, Neo London’s largest molecular manufacturing corporation. Neo London had a population of five-hundred-and-ninety million, and it was clearly evident when seen up close, here in the very heart of the world’s capital city, a place built on the site of the former county of Kent, in the south east of England following the destruction of the former England capital by the New Syndicate in 2018 by means of a nuclear weapon. The lift came to a stop at the 700th level, then rotated by 90 degrees, allowing the door to open on the external docking bay. Outside, without the sound-proofing, Neo London traffic roared and squealed like horrendous flying monsters going to war, and wind blew strongly on his face. Musashi took a deep breath against the wind, his senses immediately on a high state of alert. He walked out onto the deck and approached the awaiting Airtaxi. He boarded the craft, and as he did so, it felt like getting into a boat. The dog jumped in beside him, then the taxi’s engine whistled and whirred, and it began a vertical descent down into the bowels of the city. There was no driver in the craft… operated purely by its own AI, linked to a central computer that controlled and ordered the vast flows of traffic. Musashi waited patiently and silently as the vehicle picked up speed, moving down into the depths below the one-hundredth level, a place abandoned and under developed since the city adopted the ‘city in the clouds’ title, expanding upwards rather than outwards. He’d heard stories about this place at ground level, but this would be his first trip. He would be meeting up with Firestorm on the ground, and if his last encounter with them was anything to go by, it would most definitely mean there would be a serious good chance of toppling Union Lizard for good, which would no doubt clean up this city and truly do justice for Kato’s death, not to mention aid in Firestorm’s cause of ridding the world of the Syndicate Remnant. He remembered the warning he’d received from the customs official at New Heathrow airport. “No-one ever goes to the ground in Neo London. Only those looking for trouble head down the old Kent roads. It’s why we have border control and access only through the White Gate by Airbus at level 400…” It was a fair bet that Union Lizard was operating here, just as Guy Carter had told him. He could already sense the feeling of a city in the grip of something sinister. A familiar feeling.

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The Airtaxi’s landing thrusters fired, and it hovered gently to the ground, the doors opening. A monotonous female voice sounded: “Ground level. Have a nice day, Mr. Musashi.” Musashi raised his eyebrows, an almost amused smirk coming over his face. “Believe me, I will.”

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8

Roo

Deezee led Axel, Blaze and the others along Neo London’s neon-lit Marble Arch district on ground level, their pace a casual walk. He was leading them to the spot where Bruce, the so-called ‘Kangaroo Master’, performed his acts of cruelty for sport every night, to a crowd of spectators. Bruce was a Union Lizard crony, and they were going to ambush him and get him to talk, which meant they didn’t want to attract attention to themselves until it was absolutely necessary. Walking slowly was naturally their best option, at least for now. Blaze appreciated the chance to reflect a little on the events of the past few days as she walked along the old road. Deezee was explaining about the history of Neo London to the group, and something about molecular construction, but Blaze had stopped listening some time ago. Her mind was elsewhere; going through the events of the nightmare she’d had on the plane, trying to make sense of it all. The Black Dragon… She shuddered and sucked in air, remembering the feelings of absolute helplessness and revulsion she’d felt in the presence of the Dragon… The Dragon…God? Earlier that day, just before their first encounter with Union Lizard thugs in the Shakespeare bar, one of the patrons there had called them enemies of the Dragon…something very surreal that had made her aura flare up inside of her. To put it mildly, she’d been spooked… Surely a coincidence, she thought. The Dragon in my dreams was a metaphor for something inside myself, that’s what dreams are…I just haven’t figured out what the metaphor symbolises yet. She pondered on the issue for a few moments, but was unable to come up with any satisfactory ideas, leaving her somewhat troubled about the whole affair. Then she decided that at the first opportunity, she would confide in Axel, the man she loved. He knew her better than anyone, and could hopefully provide answers that would ease her mind. She reminded herself that she’d had a long week; Firestorm missions throughout Russia and a solo mission in Saint Petersburg, interspersed by periods of three or four hour’s sleep at a time, and now this mission in Neo London, would surely be taking its toll on her body. Maybe I’m just fucking exhausted, she figured, then took a deep breath and shook the thought aside, remaining aware, alert and vigilant for the encounter ahead. She would not sleep. Not yet. There was too much work to be done.

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***

At eight o’clock, a small crowd had gathered on the street where the team was waiting, talking excitedly as they awaited the evening’s entertainment. Axel’s senses were on high alert, keeping a close eye on the people in the crowd around him. There were people of all ages, men, women and children, and none of them looked particularly threatening. They were just innocent bystanders, families, people they couldn’t afford to put in harm’s way. This operation is going to be delicate, to say the least, he thought cynically to himself. Blaze was standing next to him, looking beautiful as ever in a skimpy red miniskirt and tank top. Her eyes were lowered, darting slightly, and he could tell that something was bothering her. “You okay?” he asked her. “Mmmhmm,” she nodded, and her eyes met his concerned gaze. “I’ll be fine, Axel. Just been thinking about my nightmare. We can talk about it later, okay?” “Sure thing, hon,” he said, and gave her a reassuring smile. Deezee was standing to his right, looking at his watch. He turned to Axel, pointing a finger upwards, and said, “Look, he’s arrived…” Axel looked up, and saw a private airbus descending from above, moving to land on the road beside the crowd. When the dust settled, the mechanical door at the foot of the vehicle whirred open, and out stepped a scrawny looking man dressed as a clown. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he heard Blaze whisper. “That’s Bruce,” Deezee whispered back matter-of-factly. “That’s your guy.” Bruce emerged from the airbus, giving a huge bow to the crowd. He was wearing a blue clown outfit, and his face was painted, giving him a comical, almost pathetic appearance. An announcer’s voice coming from a megaphone on the airbus yelled, “Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for the Kangaroo Master!” The crowd erupted into gratuitous applause. “Now he’ll bring out Roo,” Deezee told them. “The poor beast.” They found out exactly what he meant soon enough. Bruce retreated back towards the airbus, and when he returned, he was dragging a Red Kangaroo by a rope attached to its muzzle. The animal was covered in deep cuts and bruises, and was actually crying out in pain and fear. The sound was horrendous. It had cracked old boxing gloves pulled over its front legs. “Jesus Christ,” Max muttered. “This is not good,” Skate agreed. “I know,” Deezee said, nodding reverently. “This is totally barbaric. I don’t know how he manages to get away with it. It’s fucking outrageous!” Blaze raised her eyebrows. “If you’ve got the connections, you can effectively get away with anything…” “Tonight’s entertainment!” the announcer continued. “Roo! The boxer, the fighter! The animal that will put down fully grown men for your gambling pleasure!” The animal, Roo, had a look of absolute terror in its wide eyes as Bruce tore off its muzzle then lashed at it with a bullwhip. Roo screamed, barking back at him with sudden fury, baring its blood-stained teeth. “Challenging Roo tonight is Goldie, a former gangster from California. Who will win? Place your bets now.”

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As the crowd busied themselves with betting slips and credit transfers, Firestorm wormed their way closer to the front, closer to Bruce and Roo. When they were at the front, Blaze had to stop herself from launching into a full-on Kikousho attack on Bruce right now. “Not yet,” Axel reminded her. “Too many bystanders. When the show is over, we move in.” She nodded. “Right. When the show is over…”

*** The man had been attacking him for a long time. He was beginning to weaken. Roo was dying. Enraged and seeing red, Roo continued to fight, covered in blood. Through the immense pain, the stabbings, punches and kicks launched at it from the man, Roo refused to give up. Drawing upon a deep survival instinct, Roo brought up his hind legs then, kicking the man hard, once, with every ounce of strength he had left... Something cracked in Goldie’s chest. The man fell back, screaming. Victorious, Roo arched his neck back, chirping and barking for the crowd, beating his chest with the gloves like a true winner. Roo knew only too well that if he didn’t, Master would hurt him again.

***

The fight was over. Goldie was down. “Ladies and gentlemen! We have a winner! It’s Roo! The amazing kangaroo champion. Now undefeated in five consecutive fights! Come back tomorrow night when he will face another contender!” The crowd erupted into violent applause, cheering and whistling. As one body they began to chant: “Roo! Roo! Roo!” Cameras flashed. The kangaroo jolted back in fear and disorientation, barely conscious. “I think I’m going to be sick,” Blaze said, her brow wet with sweat. She licked her lips and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “This is horrible.” “The fight is over,” Deezee reassured her. “The kangaroo will now be fed, then chained up and brought back tomorrow.” “We can’t let them get away with this,” Skate piped in. “We have to free that kangaroo, guys.” “Just hold on one more moment,” Axel said. “Look, the crowd is beginning to break up.” “They’ll be going to collect their winnings, as usual,” Deezee explained. Near the airbus, Bruce was fitting a rusty muzzle onto Roo’s head, ignoring the animal’s squeals of protest. When it was in place, he took one step back from the animal and began to lash at it with his bullwhip, cursing at it and ranting like a crazed old woman. “I think we’re clear,” Adam said. “Go for broke!” Skate roared, and suddenly dashed forward, using his rollerblades against the tarmac to build considerable speed. He had Bruce, back

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turned, in his sights, closing rapidly. Then he leapt up into the air, bringing his weight up into his shoulders, using his arm muscles to twist himself into a fast spin – “Cork screw…” He angled the heels of his rollerblades down towards Bruce’s head, then gravity brought him barrelling down. “…Kick!” Bruce turned, startled. “Huh?” A split second later he was knocked back by the clobbering smash of Skate’s attack, the rollerblades grinding into his flesh, splitting and cutting. He roared in pain, and fell to the ground. Skate came up in a kickboxing stance, waiting for Bruce to get to his feet. Bruce struggled up, then curled his wrist, slashing the bullwhip at high speed, taking Skate by surprise. It got him in the face. Skate screamed, clutching his face. Then he screamed again, and again. “Noooo!!” Adam roared, and leapt through the air, performing a drop kick that cracked Bruce on the head. Bruce stumbled, and Adam wasted no time. He piled into Bruce with a flurry of jabs and punches, roundhouses and kicks, spurned on by the instinct to defend Skate, who was family. Bruce coughed up blood, and collapsed. “Adam, that’s enough,” Blaze ordered. Adam stood there breathing heavily, fuming in rage, then he blinked as Blaze’s words hit his mind. He took longer breaths, then turned to look at her and nodded, beginning to relax. Bruce wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry. “My face, is it bad? Guys, my face!” Skate was sprawled on the ground, looking up at them now, a childlike look on his face. His face and hands were covered in blood, and a large flesh-piercing cut had split his face diagonally, and was bleeding profusely. “Jesus Christ, Skate,” Adam barked. “We’d better get you to a hospital. Max, can you take care of it?” “No problem,” Max nodded. He moved across the tarmac and took off his shirt, giving it to Skate and telling him to put pressure on the wound. Then he lifted him onto his shoulder. “I’ll get him out of here,” Max told Adam. “Get what you can out of Bruce. We’ll rendezvous back with the rest of you later.” “Sounds like a plan,” Adam said, then looked at Blaze for her final approval. “No need to ask. Do it,” she ordered, nodding hard, horrified at what had just happened to Skate. Skate was delirious. He was moaning, starting to speak his thoughts aloud. “It’s bad…it’s bad…” Max nodded back, then turned and ran back the way they had came, towards the nearest medical station. Adam watched them go, then clenched his jaw muscles and looked down toward the downed Bruce. The scumbag was laying there laughing. Adam screwed up his face, then launched a heel down into the defeated man’s ribs, making one crack. Bruce hissed, almost vomiting blood. “You don’t want to laugh, freak!” Adam roared. Blaze took a deep breath, then stepped up to Adam and put her right arm around him. “Hey,” she cooed. “Adam. Ease down. Come on, ease down.” Adam swallowed hard. Blaze, tight lipped, glanced at Axel.

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He nodded, and moved to kneel beside Bruce. The man was delirious. Hard, Axel slapped him round the face, bringing him to, then said to him, “Tell us what we want to know and we’ll let you live.” Bruce spluttered blood. “Ha! I know who you are. You’re Axel Stone.” He grinned red. “What makes you think I will tell you anything?” “Where is the Union Lizard headquarters?” Axel demanded, determination burned into his expression. “Where can we find your leader?” Bruce laughed again, the sound an almost liquid gurgle. “Sauros does not take kindly to ‘visits’ from the likes of you. Believe me, the exploits of Firestorm are well known to me. I will tell you nothing, so you are wasting your breath. Kill me if you must…” Axel frowned. Bruce closed his eyes and turned his head away. Getting to his feet, Axel sighed deeply. Then he turned his head and said, “Blaze.” Blaze stepped forward and made a gesture with her right hand. Bruce yelped, and an invisible force began to crush his windpipe. Her eyes began to glow bright white, her aura flowing inside of her. She subtly raised her outstretched hand and his limp body lifted weightlessly into the air, suspended high over the ground. Bruce was choking, his entire body turning red from the forces ravaging him. “Aaah! Let me go!” he squealed. “Please! I’ll tell you! Just … aaahhh!” “Now you know how it feels to be tortured,” Blaze muttered darkly, and relinquished her grip on the gravitational forces she had learned to control. Bruce fell to the ground instantly in a heap. Axel grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. “I… It…” Bruce was saying. “It…They’re in New Westminster. The Churchill Building, behind World Parliament.” He dropped his head in defeat and exhaustion, panting rapidly. “Top level.” Axel dropped him to the ground and got to his feet again. “Naturally.” From the direction of the airbus, they heard Roo cooing in pain. Deezee licked his lips, blinking, and said, “I think it’s time we freed the kangaroo.” Slowly, he approached the animal, which was cowering in fear. He didn’t want to scare the thing. Carefully, he removed its muzzle and the leash that restricted its movements, then stepped away to a more comfortable distance, unsure of whether or not it would attack. “Easy,” he said to it. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. You’re free now. You don’t have to be hurt anymore.” Roo sat there looking at him for a moment, then turned and ran, crossing the street and heading around a corner. “Your operations in this area are finished,” Axel said, looking down at Bruce. “And so is Union Lizard, if your information is genuine.” “If it’s not,” Adam added. “We will hunt your ass down, you realise we won’t be as… soft … on you next time…” “What I have… told you is true,” Bruce blurted, “so if you are going to let me live, then get out of my sight.” He groaned and rolled over. There was blood. Axel looked at Blaze, nodded, then turned to look at Bruce one last time. “With pleasure,” he said, meaning it. They went.

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9 Union Lizard

Musashi swung his katana blade in a wide arc over his head, catching the assassin mid-jump. The impact made a dull wet crack, and the speed and ferocity of the swing sent the sword coursing through the man’s body, cutting him in half in a gruesome spray of deep red blood. Musashi brought the blood-slicked sword down and pointed it forwards, towards the remaining three Union Lizard ninjas who opposed him, as the skewered corpse fell to the ground behind him. The three of them raised their katanas and roared, all running at him in a murderous rage. There had been eight of them, when the fight began. Union Lizard ninja assassins dressed in flowing robes adorned with the symbol of a dragon’s face. He’d killed five so far. His skills in the art of ninjitsu were far in advance of theirs. Musashi smiled, and went into a sweeping low kick. It sent two of the assassins straight to the ground, flat on their backs, while the third swung his sword high, completely missing its mark. Musashi sent his hand flying at the man’s face, breaking his nose, then grabbed him and slammed him to the ground, stamping hard on his head with the heel of his right foot, twisting it into the floor. The assassin didn’t get back up. The other two however, were getting to their feet. Musashi flipped up and backhanded the closest one, then grabbed his neck, twisting firmly. There was a wet crack, and the man went limp, his neck broken. With no time to lose, Musashi reached for a shuriken at his belt with his left hand, then sent it slamming into the remaining attacker’s ribs. The hapless goon whimpered, clutching the shuriken at his chest, then fell to the floor, dead. Musashi stood to attention and took a deep breath, realising that for now, the danger was over, with all eight assassins now defeated. He returned to a calm, passive state of consciousness, clear of any doubt and negativity, and began to survey his surroundings. The spluttered remains of the Union Lizard ninjas were sprawled, blood soaked, all around him, in the middle of the road. An old, abandoned ‘69 Mustang was parked by the other side, in a sorry state of disrepair. The small buildings around him were all abandoned and run down. The only sound in the night was the constant rushing of the Air traffic lanes far above him. He sighed, shaking his head, then made his way to the sidewalk and continued on his way to the Coniston Hotel, where he had arranged to rendezvous with Firestorm. The attack from Union Lizard had come as no surprise to Musashi, in fact, he had expected them to attack a lot sooner, from the moment he first arrived on ground level. What was rather strange, however, was their devout adoration to something called ‘The Dragon Lord’, some kind of deity they claim wanted him dead, the same ‘Dragon Lord’ who had ordered Kato’s death. Either Union Lizard were insane religious fanatics, or Sauros was posing as a deity to these fools and getting them to do his bidding, like some kind of cult of personality.

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Whatever the case, Union Lizard’s reign of murder and terror would end tonight. The hotel was close. Firestorm would be there by now. He increased his speed, almost at a jog.

***

Max Hatchett wiped sweat from his brow. “Skate has to remain in hospital for the next 24 hours. He’s gonna be okay, but he’ll have one hell of a scar on his face when he gets out, for the rest of his life...” Blaze winced. Max looked at her and nodded. “I’m afraid he’s out of action for now.” “Which means we’re a man down for the assault on the Union Lizard stronghold,” Axel observed. The hotel room was large, adequate, nondescript, located at the far end of the second floor corridor on the south side of the building. It stunk like rotten meat, but it was the only kind of safe house they could hope for in these treacherous streets. They were in the lowest depths of what was known above as “New Westminster”, the very heart of international politics. Seeing the state of things on ground level here in Neo London made the very notion of politics seem surreal and distant. “I’m sorry I can’t help you guys out on the whole ‘storming the stronghold’ thing,” Deezee said, an almost sad look to his face. “But I do have commitments.” Adam turned to him and smiled. “Deezee, don’t worry about it, really. You’ve done more than enough for us already, my friend. We wouldn’t expect you to come along on such a high-risk mission, anyway.” Deezee nodded. “You guys are the professionals.” Blaze smiled tartly, her lips pouting slightly. “We certainly are.” They were interrupted by a knock at the door. “That must be him,” Axel said quickly, and marched for the door. When he opened it, his face lit up. “Joe Musashi! Good to see you old friend. Come on in.” He swung the door wide, and Musashi stepped over the threshold and entered the room. He greeted Axel first, then Max and Adam who were also pleased to see him. Then, he greeted Deezee, introducing himself as “Master Musashi”. Finally he turned to Blaze, and bowed his head low in a sign of great respect. “Blaze Fielding,” he said. “Our paths cross once again.” Blaze nodded, her expression serious. “Under no better circumstances Master Musashi. I have to admit, the situation with Union Lizard worldwide is not a good one. They have grown far too large in too short a time for any mere Syndicate splinter group. They have fast become very dangerous…” Musashi’s expression was grim. “Indeed. I am hunting down Sauros, the leader of the Union Lizard, who has killed a brother of mine….” “Yes, Max gave us a run-down of your situation after we were contacted by Mike Haggar.” Musashi nodded thoughtfully. “Then you know how important this fight is going to be to me personally. It will be a privilege to have the opportunity of fighting side-by-side once again, with you and your team during this mission.” Blaze nodded, holding her right palm out in front of her. “Likewise.” “Just like old times, Musashi, just like old times,” Max grinned.

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Musashi turned to him and gave a polite bow. “Indeed.” Axel moved to the front of the group to address them all. “Okay, now that we’re all assembled, and everyone pretty much knows the situation, we plan the attack…” All eyes in the room fell on Axel as he spoke. “Earlier today we managed to ascertain the exact location of Union Lizard’s headquarters... The Churchill Building, one of the superstructures not far from here... top level. We’ll never be able to penetrate the building on foot from ground level, it’ll be too well protected, and any sniper could take us effortlessly if we try the elevators. We’re going to need to ‘procure’ an Airvehicle to get us to a higher level, before we can even think of going inside.” Max stared at Axel thoughtfully for a moment, then said playfully, “Procure an Airvehicle, huh? Leave that to me.” “We’ll need a security code in order to dock at a higher platform,” Musashi reminded them. Adam nodded. “That won’t be a problem. The FBI will have the codes to all the docking platforms in Neo London.” “Once we’re inside,” Axel continued, “We make our way to the top, taking out any Union Lizard we encounter along the way. I don’t think we’re going to have a problem, if previous encounters with Union Lizard are anything to go by.” “Just the same,” Blaze said, her eyebrows raised. “I want everyone to be extra careful here.” Musashi nodded vigorously. “Yes, I would advise everyone to remain at the absolute highest level of alert. Taking down Sauros will be no pushover.” “Agreed,” Adam said. “Sauros is our main objective here, and according to what I’ve heard, he has a tough entourage that serve as his bodyguards, some of Union Lizard’s nastiest bosses.” Axel nodded distastefully. “We move out within the hour. Adam, we’ll need some weapons, so have Murphy drop out some guns, as well as that security code.” “Copy that.” Adam’s right hand went for his satellite phone. Somehow, Axel had a gut feeling they were going to need it.

*** Adam and Max had done their jobs well. By contacting Murphy, his partner in the FBI, Adam was able to secure machineguns for all four of them, and adrenal stimulation shots they could use to recover health. Joe Musashi had, as always, opted to stick with his katana sword on this mission, refusing to carry a firearm. They also had a few hand grenades and sonic charges, should they come in handy too. Max had managed to ‘borrow’ an air vehicle, a yellow streamlined Hot Rod used in illegal racing circuits nearby, customised and boosted to the extent of having practical-use weapons. Neo London’s underground Wipeout tournament, the antigravity racing league, had started to become popular amongst many of Max’s contacts in the city. The air vehicle they were now using was supposedly one of the fastest of them all. Max was in the driver’s seat. He had switched the craft to manual control, in case any quick manoeuvring was needed, and was guiding the glistening bulk towards the Churchill Building, which loomed heavily ahead of them. It was absolutely huge, the mere width of these super-high skyscrapers at least the length of a city block.

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Slowly, the evidence of Union Lizard’s presence at the building became apparent. Guards carrying guns marched around the perimeter, with several more manning the main and side entrances. Max pulled on the controls and the air vehicle jolted upward, beginning to ascend to a higher level, the Churchill Building itself now around sixhundred metres away. “There’s a docking platform at level two-fifty,” Max told them, looking at the readout on his heads-up display. “and one at five-hundred. I’m taking us to the closest one. Looks to be our safest option, guys. Can’t take an illegally-modified baby like this too high, you know?” He winked. “Sure,” Axel nodded. The elite, automated police sentries that patrolled above level 400 would surely make dust out of their rudimentarily-constructed craft. Best to stay as low as possible. “Just try not to attract attention to us, Max,” he told him, leaning forward. “Keep your distance from those ground troops. But don’t look like you’re trying to keep your distance…” The aircar roared forwards and up, closing in on docking bay 1’s location. If they’d aroused any suspicion, there was no sign of it yet. No weapons had been fired at them, no missiles launched, no attempt to blow them out of the sky before they could dock… Blaze tensed. This was it. They were going in. Now Max was bringing the ‘car in to the docking platform, which loomed darkly above them, aligning it to huge hydraulic arms that brought it in, the sensation of metals clashing together rocking them, jolting them in their seats. There was a hiss of steam, and the vehicle finally went still. The door opened, and a computer’s voice crackled: “Docking complete. Have a nice day.” The moment before storming the headquarters of a criminal organisation was always the same for Blaze – that rush of anticipation, that deep, overwhelming moment of both fear and determination as to what would happen – and it was sinking in again. They were going in, and there was no turning back. She would face the Union Lizard as she always faced the enemy, with ruthless efficiency and sheer will to succeed. This mission would not be her last, she would not allow it to be… she couldn’t allow it. The world still needed Firestorm. She knew there was always something new and evil lurking on the horizon…

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10 Churchill Building

“Grand Upper!” Axel brought up his right fist in a thundering uppercut, catching the nearest Union Lizard thug squarely on the jaw. There was a liquid crack, and the dark-robed goon fell back, his face broken, a gruesome arc of blood spraying from his snapped teeth. Blaze was close behind him, sending her knee into a second goon’s groin area, slamming hard. She brought the knee back, then rammed it forth again, before grabbing him by the robes and fiercely slamming him to the floor. The goon whimpered and went silent, defeated. Blaze grinned, saw Axel turn to her and do the same, then twisted her body so she could see the swarms of attackers piling in on them from down the red-carpeted hallway. All kinds of assailants, from robed ninjas to common-looking street punks brandishing bats and knives, were advancing towards them, more than she could count at first glance, with no end in sight. At the far end of the hallway, streams of Union Lizard came down the stairwell from the upper level, up from the lower, also emerging from the elevator doors… “There’s too many of them!” Max was shouting, hugging his arms and bowling over a group of nasty-looking characters like a human wrecking ball. Wasting no time, he flipped up, clenched together his fists and swung both arms round through three-hundred-sixty degrees, smashing his way through the crowd. “We can take them,” Joe Musashi reassured him, slicing at a robed ninja with his trusty katana. He reared back, skewered his opponent violently, then charged into the fray beside Max, helping him clear the way forward towards the stairwell. Adam came flying over their heads then in an aerial kick, bringing his outstretched foot down into a punk’s head, dropping him to the ground in an instant. “We are grossly outnumbered here,” he observed bluntly. “Master Musashi is right,” Blaze puffed, cartwheeling forward and jabbing her fists into action. “We’ve gotten through worse scrapes than this and survived intact. This is nothing!” Adam, unconvinced, turned to Axel, who had barely worked up a sweat since the fighting began. “Hey, Ax. Why don’t we start using our weapons? It would make our job here a lot easier…” Each of them had a sub machinegun with a single 99round antipersonnel magazine slung over their backs. Axel shook his head. “Not yet, Adam. Just be patient. We need to conserve the ammunition, if what Musashi tells us about Sauros is true…” “Yes!” Musashi hissed, swinging his sword low, chopping legs. “You will not regret it, Mr. Hunter. Unless you feel like confronting bastardised Project Y technology unarmed…” Adam gritted his teeth and winced, sweat beading on his forehead as he sent his fist sailing into a robed ninja’s chest. The man’s solar plexus cracked and he went

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down, joining the increasing number of bloodied dead on the stained carpet. “Maybe you’re right,” Adam conceded. “Blaze,” Axel called. “Do you feel strong enough to use your powers again?” From her position to his right, she turned to look at him. “I’ll try,” she answered. “Buy me a little time while I charge up…” She hung back a little, allowing Axel and the others to position themselves between her and the attacking horde, then closed her eyes, beginning to concentrate on her inner aura. Her breath started to come in ragged gasps, the hot sensation of the aura beginning to flow and sweep within her. She allowed the familiar feeling of rage and hatred to build inside, gradually charging the intensity of the aura’s power, her eyes beginning to cast a brilliant white light. Then, in a sudden, jerking movement, she lifted her arms high, blue fire beginning to lap and dance over her flesh. “Fire in the hole!” Axel shouted, and they scattered, leaving a clear path between Blaze and the attackers, who seemed confused but unfazed. Blaze threw her arms forward, sending forth a colossal charge of blue energy that rip-roared its way down the hallway with white-hot intensity, burning and incinerating everything in its path. “Kikousho!” The fireball blast melted and boiled the flesh of their enemies, set fire to clothing, carpet and walls, smashing glass, destroying everything in its wake like the power of an insane goddess. Blaze, exhausted, fell to her knees, panting like she’d just ran a marathon race, her eyes closed, sapped of all her strength. Such an exertion of energy would take some time to recover from and recharge again. Axel and the others got to their feet, looking slightly disorientated by the aftermath of the blast. Even though they had jumped to safety behind her where they couldn’t be hurt, they were still somewhat shaken up by its effects. “Nice job, Blaze,” Max said, his eyebrows raised, surveying the extent of the damage. The hallway was on fire. There were no survivors. “You cleared the way for us.” A split second later, the hallway’s automatic sprinkler system activated, dousing the fire with freezing cold water. Within moments the flames were gone, and the hallway was filled with dense clouds of smoke and steam. Axel nodded, kneeling beside Blaze and placing his right palm gingerly on her back. “Yeah, great job, hon. You okay?” She coughed up smoke, her eyes watering, nodding profusely. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, guys. No problem.” She shook her head, coughing again, then took Axel’s hand and got to her feet, managing to keep her balance, her strength returning. “I’ll be fine. So what’s our next move?” Axel took a deep breath and gestured towards the clouded, blackened stairwell ahead of them. “Next stop – top level. It’s time to confront Sauros.” *** Joe Musashi walked ahead of the others, closely followed by Yamato, his trusty dog. The animal was so light-footed, so nimble in its movements, that he barely noticed its presence at all. Since adopting the creature back in New York, it had followed him virtually everywhere he went, guarded him while he slept, and even helped him fight off enemy combatants on the lower streets of Neo London before his rendezvous with Firestorm. Now, as the team ascended the stairwell of the Churchill

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Building, making their way up to the top level where Sauros awaited them, the animal followed him still, silently and with absolute determination and loyalty. Musashi appreciated the animal’s company, for it was truly all he had left to remind him of his friend, Kato, before his untimely death at the hands of Union Lizard assassins. A death that would soon be avenged… They rounded a corner, coming to the next level. A metallic sign told them they’d reached level 658. “Level six-hundred-and-fifty-eight,” Blaze observed, puffing slightly, her heart racing, sweat beaded on her forehead. “Just forty-two more floors to go…” Musashi raised his eyebrows, and turned to look at her. “Then let us waste no more time,” he insisted. “I suggest we double our pace.” Max sighed a half-laugh, panting breathlessly himself. “There are a fucking lot of stairs to cover here. Don’t you ever get tired, Musashi?” “Of course,” Musashi smiled. “But right now, I have a brother to avenge. When that is done, I can rest. Not before.” Axel nodded, clearly tired, his teeth clenched in a look of fiery determination. “Musashi is right. We can rest later. Keep moving, people.” They continued their long ascent into the clouds. *** The locked, golden doors to Sauros’ Personal Chamber loomed ahead of them like the mouth of doom. After emerging from the stairwell on level 700, they found themselves in a small red-carpeted hallway, filled with exotic artefacts and museum exhibits in glass display cabinets lining the walls. There were no windows. At the end of the hall, which was no more than a couple dozen feet in length, the golden doors were engraved with the same dragon’s head design they’d seen on the robes of some of the Union Lizard assassins. “I recognise this design,” Adam observed bluntly. Musashi nodded. “Yes. It is the symbol of the Dragon Lord, a recurring motif throughout the Union Lizard organisation. I’m not exactly sure what it is, but I’m led to believe this ‘Dragon Lord’ is some kind of deity, and Sauros could be impersonating that deity and getting his followers to worship him…” Max frowned. “That’s insane.” One corner of Blaze’s mouth went up, her lips clamped shut tight, and she drew in breath sharply through her nostrils. “Guess it’s one way of ensuring blind devotion amongst your followers. We could be looking at some kind of religious fanaticism here.” “That’s what I’m suspecting,” Musashi nodded. “Whatever the case, Sauros’ reign of terror is going to end here, today. Right now.” Adam was trying the lock on the doors. It was an old fashioned key locking mechanism, but was more than apparently extremely locked. “The door won’t budge,” he told them, “and we don’t have the kind of tools necessary to pick this lock…” “I’m surprised we haven’t encountered any further resistance…” Blaze said to no-one in particular, butting in. “Surely Sauros knows we’re coming. This stinks of trap…” Musashi’s eyes narrowed. “We’d better knock, I suppose.” With that, he reached up his right hand and banged his knuckles loudly on the metallic surface. The

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sound echoed around the small hallway. If anyone was inside the chamber beyond, they would have definitely heard it. There was a moment of silence, then, from the other side of the door, came the sound of rustling keys and a thick clunk sound as the door was unlocked. Darkly and eerily, it swung wide open, revealing a short, hunchbacked man in a brown robe, some kind of servant, his facial features hidden beneath the shadow of his hood. “Ah, welcome, Firestorm,” he was saying. “Welcome, Joseph Musashi. The Master has been expecting you.” “We’re expected?” Blaze blurted, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. Then she noticed he wore the symbol of the Dragon Lord on his robe, and she grimaced in sudden panic and revulsion. “Yes, of course,” the servant muttered, licking his lips. “You have shown great prowess in defeating our forces on the lower levels. Follow me please – Sauros has requested an audience with you at once.” He gestured, inviting them to go with him into the torch lit darkness of the chamber beyond. Axel’s brow crinkled. The servant seemed harmless enough. “He’ll be charmed to meet us, I’m sure,” he said, nodding. Stepping forward to lead the team inside, he wondered what kind of horrors would await them within…

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11

Confronting Sauros

Sauros dismissed his servant with one wave of his gloved hand. The servant bowed deeply, and for the first time Axel, Blaze, Adam, Max and Musashi saw the face beneath his hood. The servant’s face was pale, gaunt and haggard, yet strangely enough he couldn’t be any more than twenty years of age. He stood swiftly, clearing his throat, then left the chamber through the main door he’d brought the team in. When he was gone and the door closed securely behind him, Sauros turned to look at his assembled guests. “Welcome to my humble abode,” Sauros said, his voice deep and sinister. Sauros was a huge man, a good seven feet tall, and dressed in a large flowing robe that was the colour of blood. His shoulders, chest and legs were adorned with magnificent golden armour, laced with all kinds of expensive jewels and diamonds. His face bore the scars of many battles, his grey hair set into an elegant pony-tail that reached his shoulderblades. It was immediately clear that Sauros was a man of great experience, a fighter, a man who had gotten to where he was by taking no shit, who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty to accomplish his goals, a man who had killed many to ascend to the highest rank of the Union Lizard organisation. Seated on a golden throne-like chair, Sauros looked the part in every way, and he grinned, revealing a mouth full of shining, golden teeth. Joe Musashi stepped forward. “Sauros,” he said, an icy tone to his voice. “We meet at last, for the first time, and the last time. I am here to kill you, to avenge the death of Kato, my friend and brother, whose death you are responsible for.” Sauros raised his eyebrows, his grin getting wider. “Is that so, Master Musashi?” He took a deep breath through his nostrils. “Ah, I see, you are referring to the Shinobi that was killed in Metro City? Yes. Yes, I see how you could want me dead for that particular incident. But how can you be sure that I am the one who is ultimately responsible for your friend’s death?” Musashi frowned, raising his voice. “You are Sauros, the leader of the Union Lizard, are you not?” Sauros nodded. “I am.” “Then you are the one who controls the Union Lizard armies throughout the world. It is you that must die for the atrocities you are commiting. You are the Dragon Lord, and you must pay for what you have done.” Sauros laughed, the sound a deep resonating boom that echoed around the chamber. “A bold claim,” he chuckled. “But I’m afraid you are gravely mistaken, my Shinobi friend. I am merely a middle man… I do control the armies of the Union Lizard, but I am just a servant myself, in a grander scheme that goes beyond anything you could imagine, controlled by the true Dragon Lord, my Lord and Master, the one known only as Socharis.” “Socharis?” Blaze repeated, frowning. “I’ve never heard of it.”

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Sauros looked at her. “It doesn’t surprise me, Miss Fielding. His name is rarely spoken aloud, even by myself. It is He that truly controls the Union Lizard, it is He that is responsible for our rapid growth and expansion worldwide. Without the true greatness, without the true majesty of the Dragon Lord, Union Lizard would have collapsed long ago, just another splinter group lost in the chaos of the Syndicate Wars…” Axel licked his lips. “So what you’re telling us is, the Dragon Lord is another person?” Sauros grimaced. “The Dragon Lord is no mere person, you fool! No mere human being. He is a true God. Socharis, the Dragon God, the immortal one who transcends death, who has returned to our world to craft a brave New Kingdom, to finish the great Holy Work that He started…” Sauros was shouting now, his face turning red. Blaze swallowed, taking a step back, growing anxious. “The…The Dragon…God?” she muttered. Her aura began to flush and swirl inside of her, memories of the nightmare coming flooding back now. Sauros smiled at her. “Yes, my child.” He reached up his arms, gesturing towards the ceiling of the chamber. “The Dragon God!” Blaze’s eyes went to the ceiling, and she saw the symbol of the Dragon Lord again, painted on the ceiling in precise detail. Max gritted his teeth. “This guy is insane…” Sauros was raising both his arms now, as if caught in some hypnotic trance, and the candlesticks that stood around his throne all ignited at once … Adam pulled out his machinegun, sweat appearing on his forehead. “What the fuck is he doing?” Joe Musashi unsheathed his katana, adopting a stance, ready for combat. “He is summoning ninjitsu magic…” Before they could do anything, Sauros yelled at the top of his lungs: “Invisible!” Axel’s jaw dropped as, in that instant, the air around them grew hot and Sauros disappeared from sight as if fading from existence. “What the fuck?” Blaze mouthed, then felt something crack in her chest as a violent impact knocked her backwards across the chamber to slide across the polished marble floor. She screamed, collapsing into a heap against the opposite wall, unconscious. “Blaze!” Axel yelled. “The Power of Shadow!” Musashi observed. “It’s an ancient Shinobi trick! Damn you, Sauros! Show yourself and fight with honour!” They heard Sauros cackle evilly. “You insignificant worms! You are meddling with powers you cannot possibly comprehend. By decree of the Dragon Lord, you will all die!” Adam swung his machine gun through one-hundred-eighty degrees, his breath coming in short, panicky gasps. “Where is he? I can’t see him!” Axel raced across the chamber towards the downed Blaze, but before he could get to her, a shuriken appeared from a trickle of light to his left hand side and flung towards him, catching his side. Axel yelled in agony as the shuriken buried itself in his flesh, and he fell to the ground, his arms reaching towards the spot where Blaze lay, falling short by several feet. He hissed, pain coursing through his torso. Musashi’s heightened senses caught the glimmer of light as soon as the shuriken appeared, and he knew that Sauros had given his position away. He leapt

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into action like a cat, lifting his katana, bringing it swinging down in a wide arc, managing to impact on Sauros’ armour. They heard Sauros cry out, yet he was still invisible to the naked eye. Musashi brought his katana forward again, but this time hit nothing. He gritted his teeth, calling upon all his Shinobi training to try and track the man’s movements. “He’s on the move!” Musashi yelled. Axel stood, ripping the shuriken out of his side, gritting his teeth and wincing through the pain as he did so. Then he rushed to Blaze, who was stirring, and helped her to her feet. “I’m okay…” she puffed. There was a moment of silence. Adam was cradling his machine gun close to his chest like a lifeline. Then suddenly, the elevator doors to the right of Sauros’ throne opened violently with a mechanical thud. They heard Sauros laugh again, and the elevator doors closed as quickly as they had opened. “He’s heading for the roof!” Musashi shouted. Adam roared, the adrenaline in his system reaching uncontrollable levels. He aimed his machine gun at the closed elevator doors and squeezed the trigger, opening fire. The rounds pocketed holes in a jagged line over the metallic surface of the doors, but did nothing to prevent the elevator ascending to the roof of the building. “Dammit!” he cursed. “We can’t let him get away!” Blaze exclaimed. “After him!” “We can use the access ladder,” Musashi pointed out. Beside the elevator doors, a maintanence ladder led through a ceiling hatch to the roof. “Come on, let’s go!” One by one, they grabbed the D-shaped rungs of the ladder, and raced to the very roof of the Churchill Building, eager to prevent Sauros from escaping.

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12

Bittersweet Vengeance

The first thing Blaze noticed when they emerged from the maintenance shaft onto the roof was the smell: an obnoxious, offensive stench that was somewhere between rotting, diseased flesh, motor oil and burning carbon. She’d never smelt anything quite like it, throughout her time as a police officer and even when confronting X Robots on the Syndicate’s Island Research Facility. No, this smell was different somehow… Joe Musashi had taken point, leading the team ducking between steamventing columns that jutted like chimneys from the roof’s surface. The Churchill Building itself was the size of an entire city block, the roof covered with vents and transmission antennae, so the area was certainly huge and cluttered, giving Sauros plenty of space to evade them. In short it was the perfect place for him to play hide and seek with them, plus all the while he was using his cloaking ability, he had the advantage. The night was drawing in, and thick damp clouds reduced visibility to a minimum, shrouding the entire rooftop in considerable fog. It was cold, wet, and their breath came out as steam, adding to the hazy, dreamy atmosphere. They slipped through the darkness in single file, their senses on high alert. Axel was close behind Musashi, with Adam in tow, who still held his machine gun close to his chest. Blaze followed, with Max bringing up the rear, covering their six. The gravel underfoot scrunched lightly as they walked, but the sound wouldn’t give away their position. At this altitude, over seven hundred stories up, the wind whipped and howled with fierce intensity, and it was difficult to hear anything else, even the echoing blurbs of Neo London’s sky traffic that was faintly visible in the night sky as fluorescent streaks of colour. Somewhere above them, the sky lit up suddenly, as a burst of lightning forked its way through the air, and slammed into the lightning rod on the superstructure adjacent to the Churchill Building, throwing sparks. A deep blast of thunder followed almost immediately, and then the air was filled with the violent hissing of heavy, stormy rainfall. That’s all we need, Blaze thought, big droplets of rain splashing over her face, matting down her windswept hair. The intensity of the rainfall increased steadily for about ten seconds, until it was hurling itself down in an absolute torrent, splashing on the ground, running down gutters like no tomorrow. Wherever Sauros was hiding, he’d made no sign of revealing himself yet, and Blaze was feeling increasingly anxious about the situation. He clearly didn’t intend to escape, since only minutes earlier, he’d been intent on killing them ‘by decree of the Dragon Lord’. So by leading them up here, he’d certainly led them into a trap… had certainly led them into an even more perilous situation. “Where is the son of a bitch?” she heard Adam whisper.

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“He has to be here somewhere,” Axel replied, and for the first time since arriving at the Churchill Building, he unholstered his machine gun, racking the action. He made a swift glance at Blaze and Max, advising them to do the same. “Something tells me we’re gonna need these weapons real soon.” Blaze nodded, swinging her weapon down and cycling a round into place. “Yeah,” she told him. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this…” Max swallowed, a sudden frown coming over his face as he unholstered his own weapon. “Shh!” he hissed, and they went quiet. Max’s eyes darted upward, scanning the sky above them. “Do you hear that?” The team stood still, between two venting columns in the foggy, pouring rain, listening intently. In the distance, from somewhere above them, was an artificial, very deep rumbling sound. Joe Musashi frowned, squinting his eyes so tight that they were almost slits. “I… cannot make it out. What is it?” Blaze swallowed. “Whatever it is, it’s getting closer.” Adam blew out his breath shakily. “It’s no aircar, that’s for sure.” “No,” Axel was shaking his head. “Something bigger…” The sound was getting louder. An intense, resonating roar that sounded like a rocket charging towards them, but somehow different from a missile, somehow robotic and controlled… Something flew over them, casting a shadow, then was gone. Something big. “Did you see that!?” Max howled. “What?” Adam roared. The smell that Blaze had first noticed when emerging on the roof, the stench of death and oil, had now reached intolerable levels, smelt so bad it was almost so strong to reach out and touch… Whatever it was, it made another flyby, only this time slower, like a predator observing its quarry. Then it was out of sight again, biding its time, toying with them. “Jesus Christ!” Adam shouted. “I think I saw it!” “As did I…” Musashi muttered. In that short instant where the thing was visible, he immediately knew what horror they were about to confront, and only the thought of avenging Kato’s death gave him the courage to continue… From somewhere on the roof around them, they heard Sauros cackle like a madman. Musashi swallowed hard, knowing that the time had come. “Jet,” he said, and drew his katana.

***

Blaze’s mouth dropped open in fright, her eyes swelling with tears. “What the fuck is it?” she blurted. Jet hovered into view like a vision from hell. It was huge. Over ten feet tall, with a maroon-coloured armoured robotic body, suspended in the air by a rearmounted rocket pack that blasted flame in a precise blue arc behind it. Its head vaguely resembled that of a human, but its facial features were so grotesquely mutilated that it was clear any humanity left in the monster had long since vanished. A black oxygen mask covered its mouth, and its eyes were yellow, beady and almost

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reptilian. The skin on the face was pale, damp, with big purple-blue veins running along it and over the creature’s bald cranium. “An abomination of Project Y technology…” Musashi observed, clearly horrified at the sight. “A perversion of science, created by Sauros himself!” Then, from the shadows around them, they heard Sauros’ voice shout: “Jet! Kill the interlopers!” Jet’s head cocked to one side in response to the command, making a sound of robotic pistons and squelching flesh as it did so. Then it spoke, its voice ratty, dark and slurred. “I obey.” “Scatter!” Axel yelled, and the five of them leapt to safety just as Jet raised its mechanical arm and let loose a red hot blast from the flamethrower suspended to it. Thick orange flames plumed from the weapon’s nozzle and scorched the ground where the team had been standing just seconds before. Jet’s rocket pack fired, sending the creature several metres higher into the air as it began to calculate the trajectories of each team member, who were now splitting up across the roof, running in opposite directions to each other. Adam’s heart was racing. He managed to get several dozen feet before pressing his back against one of the steam venting columns, then dared a glance round the corner – - and saw Jet hovering towards him, raising its flamethrower arm – “Fuck!” he cried, doing a leap-roll out of harm’s way as the flames coursed toward him. He reached out an arm as he came out of the roll and grabbed a transmissions antenna that jutted from the ground nearby, then swung himself up to land on his feet, raising his weapon – - and his finger squeezed the trigger on the machine gun, opening fire on the monstrosity that shambled through the air towards him. The rounds hit their mark, but seemed to bounce harmlessly across Jet’s armour. “A little help here!” Adam cried. Axel and Max came running around the corner, weapons raised, opening fire, their volley of rounds joining Adam’s at the seemingly unfazed monster. Jet continued to humm forwards through the gunfire, as if the bullets had absolutely no effect whatsoever. “This is not good,” Axel observed, his teeth clenched. He was already halfway through his magazine, with only fifty or so rounds remaining. “He’s as resilient as Robot Y!” Adam sidestepped towards Axel and Max, continuing to fire, realising he was almost out of ammunition. Taking a deep breath, he fingered for the under slung grenade launcher, hitting the secondary fire trigger, and a live grenade slunked from the chamber beneath the gun barrel and flew towards Jet, catching it straight on the chest plate. The incendiary impact blew Adam, Axel and Max back and to the ground. They landed heavily, their senses temporarily stunned by the impact. The fiery blast knocked Jet back, blowing off a piece of its armour and sending it into a midair spin with sparks flying off its rocket pack. Then after only a second or so, it righted itself, and began hovering towards them again, only this time at shocking speed. Within two seconds it was on top of them, closing in – - and picked up Max with its huge hydraulic arms, pulling him close to its chest.

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“Shit!” Max cried. “Guys, help me!” He squirmed for a moment in the vicelike grip of the thing, but could almost immediately tell it was no use. Jet was way too strong. Jet’s rocket pack fired up again, lifting them both high into the sky above the roof, far away from Axel and Adam, who looked on aghast. “Max!” Axel cried. “No!” Then, in one instant, Jet brought the helpless Max crashing back down to the ground, slamming his skull hard into the gravel, face first. Max’s body went ghostly limp, and Jet relinquished his grip, turned and flew to a distance, looking for Blaze and Musashi. Max lay deadly still, face down on the gravel in an expanding pool of blood. “Jesus Christ, no!” Adam cried, his eyes filled with tears as he stared at Max’s lifeless body. He sprinted towards the downed Max, with Axel at his toes, horrified at what had just happened to their friend, fearing the worst. Axel reached him first. His breath coming in ragged gasps, he hoisted his machine gun over his right shoulder then reached down to turn Max over onto his back. Adam slid to his knees beside them as the extent of Max’s injuries became apparent. Max’s face had literally been smashed open. His nose and upper jaw was a liquid, bloody pulp, smashed straight through the skull. His head was cracked and bleeding profusely, and it was evident that Max did not have long to live. The injuries were most certainly terminal. “Max!” Axel hissed, fighting back tears. “Oh, my God!” Near death but still conscious, Max managed to open his eyes then, and looked to Axel, catching his gaze. He coughed up blood. “Axel,” he managed. “Save your strength!” Adam insisted. “We’ll get you out of here!” He started putting one arm around Max’s limp form. “No!” Max insisted, brushing his arm gingerly against Adam. “You must…s…stop…the thing…” “Stay with us, Max!” Axel cried. Max blinked, blood bubbles popping out of what remained of his nasal cavity. “I’m done for…” he cooed. “It…it’s up to you now. Protect Blaze… You must…stop… Sauros…” he cried out then, a deathly sound of absolute agony that made Axel wince, tears rolling freely now down his cheeks. Their moment of privacy was interrupted then, as Blaze came running towards them, Jet in tow, firing its flamethrower towards her. She leapt forward, just managing to avoid the fire’s reach. When she saw the downed Max, she screamed. “Max! Oh, God, no!” She fell to her knees beside him, leaning over him, unable to believe what her eyes told her was true. Axel leapt up, brought his machine gun to bear, and opened fire on Jet, joined by Adam. Together they began unloading grenades at the monster in rapid succession, managing to beat the thing back to a safer distance, disorientating it, blowing off more of its armour but still not quite doing enough damage to kill it. Max, from where he lay on the cold gravel, could do nothing more than lift his right hand to Blaze’s cheek, rubbing it affectionately. “Blaze…” he croaked. “B…beautiful… Blaze. You… must…defeat…Sauros…” “Yes…” she muttered, blinking through tears. “Find…Socharis…Dragon Lord…”

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“I promise…” Blaze gasped, finding it difficult to breathe, then Max’s arm went limp, dropping to his side. “Max!” she called. “Max!” At that moment, with his body too damaged to sustain his life any longer, Max Hatchett died, and Blaze Fielding cried out from the deepest depths of her soul.

***

Musashi roared, swung his katana forward in a short, swiping arc, managing to catch Sauros by the shoulders, chopping off a sizeable portion of the flesh of his upper back. Blood sprayed. Sauros yelped, stumbled, then managed to flip backwards, bringing up his own sword and pointing it accusingly at Musashi. “You filth!” Sauros roared, and spat blood at the ground, hissing in agony. One of Musashi’s eyebrows went up. “Not so tough without your invisibility trick, are we, Sauros?” he taunted. “Now call off your pet monster, and let us finish this with true honour!” “Never!” Sauros spat. “You may defeat me, Shinobi, but you will never be able to defeat Jet. Surely by now, you must realise, you are doomed.” Musashi grimaced, and flexed his sword arm. For Kato, he thought, then charged toward Sauros, eager to finish this once and for all. ***

Blaze raced forward, between Axel and Adam, who were standing side by side, emptying their weapons on the still advancing Jet. As she ran, she called upon every ounce of vengeance, every ounce of hatred in her being, beginning to summon her deepest aura, more powerful than she’d ever summoned before. She felt herself entering an uncontrollably dark rage, spurned on by the very real horror and pain of Max’s death, intent on nothing else than the total eradication of Jet from existence. She brought her right foot forward, flipped into the air, and as she did so, her eyes seemed to burst with intense light, her entire body illuminating with blue energy that crackled and raged with all the force of her homo superior power, every ounce of strength in her being. Jet turned to look at the light raging towards it, and brought up its flamethrower, beginning its attack – - and there was a sound like cosmic trumpets rasping, as Blaze Fielding unleashed her kikousho attack, throwing a ball of light forward towards Jet. Axel and Adam were thrown back to the ground then, as the night air lit up with the dazzle of a hundred suns. Blaze gritted her teeth, unloading her every vengeful lust into the attack, and it surged toward Jet at unimaginable speed, completely engulfing the monster in fireball energy. Jet made a screeching sound, forks of electricity sparking all over its form, sending it head over heels into the sky, where after a mere few seconds, the thing exploded violently, the shockwave shaking the entire Churchill Building, smashing glass, shattering circuits, sparks flying. Jet was no more.

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When the light and fire had faded, Axel’s eyes adjusted to the rainy darkness once again, and he saw Blaze lying motionless on the ground just below the spot where Jet had exploded. Exhausted, he crawled toward her, and found she was breathing, but faintly. “She’s okay,” he called to Adam, who could do no more than look on, his senses completely disorientated. Axel cradled Blaze to his chest, ever thankful for her genetic powers, and stared over at Max’s body, knowing that from this day forward, their lives would be changed forever.

***

The explosion of light caused Sauros to stumble, disorientating him. Taking advantage of his considerable Shinobi discipline, Musashi moved straight in, unfazed by the light, firmly in a state of consciousness that allowed him to no longer rely on the senses of sight, sound and touch. He made one step toward Sauros and slashed at his torso, severing both of his arms in a gruesome shower of blood and meat. Sauros cried out, collapsing to the floor, defeated. When the light faded, Musashi saw that Jet had been destroyed, and he turned to look at the downed Sauros, a sly grin coming over his face. “You were saying?” Sauros sneered. “Impossible! No-one can defeat my finest creation!” Musashi smiled. “It would seem you underestimated Firestorm. To underestimate your enemy is the first mistake in mortal combat. You have failed, Sauros, miserably. Now my revenge is complete.” Sauros swallowed in the depths of his throat, blood pouring profusely from his wounds. His death was imminent. “Shinobi…” he hissed. “You will never have revenge… so long as the Dragon Lord lives!” He grinned red. Musashi took a deep breath, reached down and grabbed the dying man by the scruff of his neck. “So tell me where I can find this ‘Dragon Lord’! Tell me where, so that my revenge can be complete!” Sauros laughed, the sound a half-croak. “Do you think a middle-man such as myself is entrusted with such information? Pah! There are others higher than me who could help you find the Dragon Lord himself, if you think you have what it takes…” Musashi’s eyes lowered. “Tell me, and I will make your death quick and painless.” Sauros swallowed, his eyes rolling. “Tell me!” Sauros opened his mouth to speak. “N…Neo Chaos…their…their leaders are closer to the Dragon Lord than me… you… you can find the knowledge you seek…” Musashi nodded satisfactorily to himself, dropping Sauros to the ground, then swung his katana over his head, bringing the blade straight down into the man’s heart with a dull, meaty thud. In a painless instant, Sauros was dead. Musashi retracted his sword and sheathed it, gave the corpse one final, disapproving stare, then went to rejoin the members of Firestorm, hoping that their Victory over Jet had not come at too great a cost.

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13

SIX YEARS EARLIER

Somewhere in Russia March 2015

Her head seemed to explode. She felt the great roar in her ears, the pounding of blood, then the sensation that her skull was riddled with holes. Fire poured through the holes, from her ears and nostrils, then her mouth. Rudra jerked awake, realising several things at once. The roar came from two Russian fighter jets, afterburners guzzling fuel as they passed overhead. She recalled that, at the briefing, they had said military jets often flew low over the mountains heading back to their base near Russia’s oldest sea port. She also cursed herself for falling from a doze into a deep sleep. She stretched, trying to ease her aching muscles, then moved very slowly to glance at her watch. It was nearly time to go and she was cold and suffering from cramps. She listened and could still hear the jets receding but no sound of the spotter jetship which used the airfield far below. Wide awake now, Rudra looked around, alert, becoming orientated. She lay at the top of a high ridge within the bowl surrounded by dark hostile mountains. To her right was the long man-made lake and in front of her the squat concrete guardhouse blocking entry to the top of the vast dam which rose some eight hundred feet from the valley floor. Below the dam, the ground was a mass of boulders and rocks, but she knew these were only camouflage, for they were cemented into almost twenty feet of bomb proof stressed plastecrete and ferrofoam and steel. Beneath those rocks lay the target: a top secret Russian military facility, where she would find Colonel Český Romonov, the man she was tasked to assassinate… Colonel Romonov was one of Russia’s most prominent military personnel, a man in a very unique position, with access to a great deal of Russia’s nuclear material and theoretical research. Rudra’s employer, a corrupt US Senator named George Xetheus, wanted Romonov assassinated as part of a plan to replace the man with his own insider, a woman named Khristenko, so that his ‘Syndicate’ could infiltrate the Russian military from within, expanding its influence even further worldwide. Mr. X had been very clear about the urgency of this mission, and it was down to Rudra to get the job done. “You are my best assassin,” Xetheus had said, “and we’re all aware that this operation gives you only a fifty-fifty chance of return. But I have no other option. Colonel Romonov must be destroyed now, if my plan is to go off without a hitch. Another few weeks and it’ll be too late.” In the here and now, Rudra turned her head and looked down into the valley, reflecting on the mission ahead. The only visible sign of life below her was the rough runway which scarred the ground, like an open wound, ending only about thirty feet

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from the edge of a long gorge which ran parallel to the dam, at the far end of the plateau above the valley floor. The gorge was around a mile wide and very deep, with its own valley floor. The runway, she had been told, was one of the two ways in and out of the military facility. Workers, troops and scientists were flown in and out using a modified Stealth jetship with VSTOL (Very Short Take Off and Landing) capability. The other entrance and exit was by a crude underground railway, cut in the late 1960s through earth and rock, enabling personnel and product to be linked with the seaport on the coast. The rolling stock of this transport system consisted mainly of flatbed cars to carry products, and open carriages with hardwood seats for staff and troops. The journey from the seaport to the military facility took almost twenty-four hours – a day of intense discomfort. Rudra, however, had her own plans for infiltrating the facility. Five years as a bounty hunter, followed by another five years as a high profile assassin, tended to teach you one or two tricks about getting into places like this undetected. She was the best, the absolute best, as cold-blooded and lethal as they came, and nothing would stand in the way of her mission. Rudra never failed to get her kill. It was the reason X had employed her in the first place. Again she stretched her arms and legs. She had been lying in this position, less than fifty yards from the guard post, for over seven hours after being parachuted from a stealth-equipped Syndicate aircraft – eight hours before. She had landed short of her Drop Zone and it had taken an hour to climb the quarter of a mile up the rocky incline leading to the small outcrop of rock which would give her access to the guard post. The post was simply a square, concrete and steel structure perched over the edge of the dam’s top. There was a window and door on Rudra’s side of the building, and she knew from the briefing photographs that inside there was room for the two permanent guards to eat, relax and sleep. She also knew that on the far side was a kind of enclosed dog pen constructed of high steel bars, with a sliding electronic gate at the end which led out to the walkway on top of the dam itself. The soldiers who manned this post were part of the security detail on permanent assignment to the military facility, all of whom had undergone special extra training with the elite Spetsnaz troops. The other end of the dam needed no such guards as it abutted straight onto a sheer rock face. The pair of guards were changed weekly, making a tough and unpleasant climb up a set of wide D-shaped rungs set firmly into the dam’s vertical wall. For a second, she wondered what that climb would be like in the bleakest midwinter. Even Rudra shuddered at the thought, then, knowing that the time for her own descent was nearing, she mentally checked off the equipment she carried. She wore a specially designed skintight wetsuit, which hugged her slim, womanly form tightly, with a pair of climbing boots and a long parka over the top. The wetsuit and parka were both a stone grey colour and contained more zippered and buttoned pockets than you would find in a poacher’s greatcoat. In Rudra’s case, she carried equipment wrapped around her chest under the parka, and a long pocket containing what she hoped would be her ultimate salvation ran down the right thigh of the wetsuit. Further, a broad webbing belt was clipped around her waist. At least four pouches were threaded onto this belt, plus a webbing holster for her weapon of choice for this mission, an ASP 9mm, loaded with ferocious Glaser ammunition and fitted with a long noise reduction cylinder. Her face and head were covered in an insulated ski mask, while her hands were protected by skintight leather gloves which kept out the cold without reducing her ability to use her fingers for the most delicate of tasks.

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In her head she ticked off the contents of the pockets and pouches, as she had done a dozen times before the cold and fatigue had pushed her into a dangerous sleep. As she went through the items, Rudra became aware of noise, the buzzing roar of a jetship’s engine far away below on the edge of the runway. It was the first signal, for the aircraft ran regular patrols over the area, its pilot making sure that no civilian climbing enthusiasts, or worse, enemies of the state, had made their way just a shade too close to the restricted area. The jetship flew a pre-set pattern which seldom varied and took around twenty minutes to complete. Its final manaeovre was to fly low across the lake, passing over the dam at its midpoint. From the large cockpit the pilot would scan the guard post, and routine security required that one of the guards would come out into the steel cage and signal an ‘all-clear’ to the jetship. Below, the jetship was beginning its take-off run. Rudra slowly rose, flexing her limbs, then she noiselessly ran towards the building, flattening herself against the wall to the right of the grimy window. As she did so, she was aware of the jetship climbing out of the valley. Quickly she leaned inwards, peering through the window. The two soldiers sat opposite one another concentrating on a chess game. What happens, she wondered, if they miss their cue by not signalling to the plane? The aircraft noise was receding; now she detected a change of engine noise and an increase in sound as, far out over the lake, it began to line up with the centre of the dam. Pressed against the wall, she clearly heard the guards’ voices and the scrape as a chair was pushed back. Once more she leaned towards the window. One of the men was opening the door on the dam side and walking out into the steel enclosure, the other soldier still sat at the table, his entire concentration on the chess board. Listening for the jetship’s approach, Rudra removed the automatic pistol from its holster and edged towards the door. As she passed the window she could see that the guard outside was shielding his eyes, looking upwards. In one fluid movement she opened the door, stepped inside the building and lifted her right hand. The man puzzling over the chess board was so engrossed that his reactions were considerably slowed. He turned, looked blankly at Rudra as though she were someone from another planet, then began to push his chair back, his face a mixture of surprise, fear, and disbelief. The automatic made little noise, just a quiet phut-phut. In fact the metallic click of the mechanism seemed louder than the actual rounds being fired. Rudra winced slightly as the two bullets blew into the man’s chest, right over the heart, the pair hitting within a quarter of an inch of each other. Overkill, Rudra thought as the twin odours of gunsmoke and blood twitched at her nostrils. Her experience had taught her to always fire two rounds, in the traditional manner. With Glasers you only needed one, for ninety percent of victims hit by this round ended up dead within seconds, it being virtually a shotgun cartridge, the No. 12 shot floating in liquid Teflon within a cuprenickel jacket, the bullet sealed with a plastic cap. It was the sudden outward explosion of the No. 12 shot once the bullet entered the body that did the damage. The dead soldier’s chair had been pushed back, almost to the wall by the impact. Now the body slumped to one side and fell to the floor, one arm flapping against the chess board, scattering the pieces.

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The jetship was passing overhead, and as Rudra stepped over the body so the telephone began to ring. Rudra hesitated, a fraction too long, her sparkling brown eyes searching for the incoming point. The telephone rang five times before she reached down and ripped the jack from the socket. By then she heard the other guard running back towards the building. She could hear the man’s boots thudding on the paving and could imagine him unholstering his pistol. “Definitely not officer material,” Rudra murmured, her voice soft and low. The man was just rushing back without even making a tactical appraisal of what might, or might not, be happening inside the guard post. He exploded through the door, the little Stechkin automatic waving, almost out of control, in his hand. This time, Rudra fired only once. The second soldier spun to the left, hit the wall and collapsed, leaving a trail of smeared blood behind him. In the silence that followed, two of the chess pieces rolled at his feet. “Checkmate,” Rudra muttered, taking stock of the situation, looking specifically for the control to the gate out on the top of the dam. The big metal button like an unpolished silver mushroom was set into the wall high to the left of the door, just where the Syndicate boffins said it would be. She unzipped the parka and began to unwind the cumbersome thick elasticated rope from around her body, curling it across her left arm, making certain that the entire length was free and there was no danger of it getting tangled. In the next few minutes her life would depend on the strength and pliability of this piece of equipment which she coiled so that the strengthened noose was in her left hand and the big spring clip in her right. Reaching up, Rudra banged the big button which controlled the outer gate, hitting it squarely with the spring clip. She heard the whine of the metal from the far end of the cage, looked out and saw that the way onto the wide top of the dam was clear. Taking a deep breath, she began to sprint forward.

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14

Assassination Mission

She had not anticipated the stiff breeze blowing off the lake, but the top of the dam was wide enough, and there was no question of doing a balancing act as the wind whipped around her. There were strong metal guardrails running along either side, so Rudra had no worries about falling off and hurtling through the eight hundred feet of space onto the rocks below – even though this was basically what she was about to do. She reached the centre of the high curved structure, glanced down and felt her stomach turn over. In the short period she had been given to prepare for this mission, she had done this only twice, and then dropping less than half the distance she was about to attempt. You only got one chance with this method, and there were no things like reserve parachutes or wrist clamped altimeters. Initially she had planned abseiling down the face of the dam, but quickly realised that this tried and true method would leave her exposed to detection for way longer than she wanted. She banged the spring clip onto one of the metal guardrail uprights, and gave it a quick pull, quietly hoping the iron to which she was tethering herself was bedded firmly into the top of the dam as X’s boffins claimed. Hardly stopping to think about anything else, Rudra slid her right foot into the noose at the other end of the bungee cord and pulled the long piton gun from its special holster in the thigh of her wetsuit. Ducking under the rail, she glanced back to be certain the cord was free of any obstruction, and could not get tangled. Then, expelling her breath in a loud whaaa sound, Rudra, Mr. X’s top assassin, launched herself from the top of the dam. *** This was nothing like free fall parachuting because you did not have the comfortable knowledge that, when the moment came, there was a ‘chute on your back. Rudra’s stomach was still up on top of the dam as she plunged downwards. The drop seemed endless. She could feel her body moving faster and even felt the resistance of the air through which she moved. Her ears sang and her facial muscles ceased to be of any value, her cheeks forced back and her mouth stretched into what she knew was a kind of hideous grin. As she plummeted with the dam’s wall only a foot or so from her body, she pushed the piton gun forward, her hands firmly holding its twin grips which would eventually be her way to safety. The use of this piece of equipment had to be timed to the second. If not, the bungee cord would reach its maximum length and she would be sprung back, lifted by the cord then falling again and, in all probability, smashed into the hard wall of the dam. Struggling against the pressure, Rudra forced herself to look down at the rocky ground hurtling up to meet her. She relied solely on the instinct to judge the moment

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to fire the piton. There was no accurate way of calculating the optimum second, and she knew that her sense of self-preservation could now easily override accuracy. Then, right or wrong, the moment was upon her. She clung to the handles of the piton gun as she pressed the trigger and felt the projectile charge thump, the tingling of the small explosion running up her arms. The barbed arrow that was the piton shot down, trailing a snake of around a hundred feet of ultra strong climbing rope behind it, moving with a speed that was a fraction faster than Rudra’s downward momentum. The piton smashed into the camouflaged plastecrete at the foot of the dam at just the moment that the bungee cord had paid out its normal length, but with around two hundred feet of elastation to go. Rudra felt the pull and, for a second, thought her arms were going to be torn from their sockets. The muscles of both arms and the right leg screamed pain through her, and she wondered if this had been the kind of thing people first felt on the rack in those days of intense physical torture. She reached forward hand over hand, beginning to haul herself downwards to the bottom of the dam, her face contorted with agony as she fought against the pressure from the bungee cord which was now taut, pulling, trying to drag her back up the dam wall. Finally Rudra reached the bottom, strung between the rope and the thick bungee cord. Looking down, she could see the strain on the piton which was moving slightly in the concrete in which it was embedded. If the piton was ripped out by tension on the bungee, she was well aware of what could happen: she would be catapulted upwards, against the side of the wall. Her body would be scraped as though someone held her against a giant sander. In the end the bungee would leap into the air, eight hundred feet above, and what was left of her would be thrown down onto the top of the dam. Even now, she felt herself being torn apart by the bungee’s tension and the anchored rope around her left arm. She reached up to free her foot from the loop and the bungee shot back up the dam wall, flying upwards like a long fast-moving snake. She stood for a moment, orientating herself, then moved in a crouch over the rocks, zigzagging between them to reach an air conditioning pump which stood like a grey painted drum about twenty yards away. The grille was firmly locked in place, so she wasted no time, pulling out a small metal-cutting device from her belt and getting to work on the big padlock. The device she used was state-of-the-art, designed by the Syndicate’s top scientists, and could even cut diamond like a hot knife through butter. A precise, surgical laser was emitted from the tiny nozzle on one end, and made short work of the steel grille, which after less than a minute she was clawing away from the vent and casting to one side. As she pulled the grille back, Rudra found herself looking into a dark square hole with the top elongated D-shape of a series of rungs set in the side of the wall below. Swinging herself into the darkness, she began to descend, not rushing but moving slowly, her feet feeling out the rungs, her mind focused on finding the bottom of this black well, for she had no idea how far this maintenance shaft went down. It turned out to be a long haul, for the wide duct seemed to go down forever. Though her eyes were gradually getting used to the blackness, Rudra – for the first time in her life – started to experience a kind of vertigo, her senses stretched to the limit. Her muscles still ached and her mind felt detached from what she was actually doing. Everything had happened so quickly that a part of her was still high up above the ground, plunging towards the rocks and plastecrete and steel; her hands on the

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rungs felt bruised and there was a musty damp smell in her nostrils. It was an odour that became stronger the further she moved downward. After what seemed to be ten or fifteen minutes and hundreds of metal rungs, her feet touched solid ground. A floor? Or was it a ledge from which she could easily fall into some bottomless pit? By now she had ceased to trust her senses, and her mind became obsessed with heights. Very slowly she adjusted to the blackness of her surroundings. She appeared to be in some small chamber which she presumed was the access point to the maintenance shaft. To her right, Rudra could just make out the shape of a door. Her feet scraped loudly on the stone floor as she crossed to the door, gently pulling it open and moving through into what felt like a larger chamber. Two steps in she stopped, frozen like a statue. After another moment, her eyes adjusted more to the darkness, and she saw a second door, open and revealing a curved metal stairwell. She moved quickly, through the door and down the stairs, then came to another door which was electronically locked: the way in to the military facility. “Bingo,” she muttered. *** Already Rudra was unzipping one of the pouches on her belt. By the time she had reached the electronic door she had the little oblong box in her hand. The box was magnetic and she clamped it onto the side of the door, throwing a small switch as she did so. Immediately a series of lights began to pulse and a small digital readout started to move very fast. “It’s really quite simple,” Dr. Dahm had said. “It works like an autodialler, except it sorts through every known permutation of numbers and letters at a speed of around fifteen-hundred per second. When it detects part of a matching pattern it starts to configure the entire electronic code. Even on a cleverly invented system it shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes to hit the right numbers or letters. As soon as it’s done that, the lock will be activated.” “A very handy little gadget to take on a picnic,” Rudra had replied. Dr. Dahm had given her the ghost of a smile. “I had it tested on the vaults of Fort Knox,” he said. “The people there didn’t like it one bit.” By the time Rudra’s memory took in the conversation, the box gave a final little beep and the door clicked open. She was on a high, suspended walkway, looking down on what seemed to be a huge munitions plant. On the far side a row of some six massive weapons-production machines stood in a line, linked together by slim metal tubing. More tubes and pumps disappeared through the wall area to her right. By this time, Rudra was completely disorientated. She had no idea of her position in relation to the ground above. Focusing on her objective, she headed towards the steps that led down onto the chamber’s floor and slipped into the shadows behind the huge machines, hoping to God she hadn’t been spotted on the surveillance monitors in those brief few seconds she’d been exposed. No alarms sounded. She had successfully managed to infiltrate the facility. Now to deal with Colonel Romonov, she thought, and ghosted her way down the adjoining corridor, towards the officer’s quarters.

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***

Colonel Romonov was asleep in his bunk when Rudra found him. The lights were out, nobody was around, and the man himself was blissfully unaware of the fate that was about to befall him, snoozing like a contented baby, face down on his pillow. Rudra smirked to herself as she lifted her ASP 9mm, tightening the noise reduction cylinder with her right hand. It was almost too easy. She stood in the shadows by the door frame, already going through the escape plan in her mind, licking her lips. Taking one final glance through the door’s porthole to make sure nobody was coming, she aimed her weapon, playing the little infrared targeting laser over the back of Romonov’s sleeping head. “Sweet dreams,” she muttered. Phut-phut-phut. She fired three rounds, the impact blowing his head apart like a rotten watermelon. Blood sprayed over the pillow and up the white plastered wall like an accident in a paint shop. Romonov was killed instantly. Rudra took a deep breath in through her nostrils, staring at the corpse, savouring the sweet moment of success. Another kill to add to my portfolio, she thought, feeling a rush of sexual excitement pass through her, the way it did every time she got her hit. She touched herself gingerly, moaning through gritted teeth. Then the feeling was gone, and she clamped her jaw muscles tight, her eyes piercing and cold, determined to get out of this place and back to safety. Just another day in the life of Rudra – Mr. X’s top assassin.

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15 Meeting with Xetheus

Leon Shiva woke up suddenly from a deep, dreamy sleep, to the high-pitched sound of his cell phone’s ring tone. He grunted wearily, rubbing his eyes, and turned to look at the digital alarm clock beside the bed. It was 6 o’ clock in the morning and Mr. X was trying to contact him on the emergency line. Laying in the bed beside him, Electra moaned sleepily, putting one arm across his bare chest and snuggling her face into his right shoulder, trying to get him to ignore it. “Oh, can’t they leave us alone for just one whole twenty-four hours?” Electra whispered, slightly exasperated, kissing the bare skin of his shoulder and the snake tattoo that spiralled around it. “It’s far too early in the morning for this…” Shiva sighed, and reached across the bedside cabinet to pick up the phone. “Sorry, lover,” he said, “but I have to take this. The boss will only call me on this line when it’s important…” She propped herself on one elbow and looked at him, lines of concern raking across her brow. Then Shiva laughed. “Electra, my darling girl, it’s a basic rule. If Mr. X calls me on this phone, I simply must answer it, no matter how much cocaine I’ve taken up my nostrils, nor how many hours I’ve been making love to you…” She smiled, rubbing her breasts, then grabbed a pillow and swung at him with it, almost shouting, her voice high and full of joy – “You sexy beast, Leon!” He fended off the pillow and drew her back to him for a long kiss which seemed to go on until their lungs reached bursting point. Then he took a deep breath and finally answered the cell phone. “Shiva here…. Yes, sir…. I am aware of that, sir….. I….I see…. Yes sir. I’ll make the arrangements.” He slid the cell phone shut, ending the call. Electra looked into his distant, thoughtful eyes. “What is it, Leon?” His eyes met her gaze. “Mr. X has called for a meeting of the Syndicate Inner Sanctum today. He wants all of our highest-ranking members to be there – that includes you.” She nodded, swinging her blonde hair back from her face. “Right. I’ll gather the street gang leaders together. Any idea what this is all about?” Shiva grimaced. “I don’t think he’s happy about Blaze Fielding’s escape from Edgemont Hospital, that’s for sure. He wants to discuss how we’ll contain the situation. And on a lighter note, it turns out the assassin girl, Rudra, has returned successfully from her mission in Russia. So at least something has gone his way this week.” He shrugged. “We’ll find out more once we’re all assembled.” “Kiss me again, Leon,” Electra whispered. “Please. Please take me again.” His hands stroked her body, legs, thighs, belly, breasts, neck and shoulders. “Okay, one more time. Then we have to get going. I have a lot of phone calls to make.” “Then take me quick,” she said. “And to hell with Mr. X.”

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***

The meeting was due to start in five minutes; had been arranged for 1400 hours in the officer’s mess on Third Base, the military-built island research facility where Syndicate scientists were developing Project X technology. Shiva was sitting at one end of a large, expensive table that was constructed solely of black glass, with enough seating down either side to accommodate a dozen people. Electra sat further down the table, amongst the other assembled guests, scientists, Inner Sanctum bosses and administrators from the Oversight Committee who attended meetings like these by default. She made a glance at Shiva, briefly catching his gaze, thrilled by the prospects of their secret affair, then looked away quickly, slightly abashed. The clock on the wall changed to 1359. Mr. X was a very punctual man, and would be here at any moment. Sure enough, just as the clock was threatening to hit 1400, the doors swung open violently and George Xetheus burst into the room taking huge strides, his eyes swinging side to side like guns on an aircraft carrier. He was a broad shouldered man of sixty-five, with dark skin and greying hair, wearing a starched, deep green suit with a red tie clipped to the shirt he wore under his jacket. He was a very powerful man for his age, a man of great wisdom and experience, the leader of the Syndicate. Following close behind him was Rudra, the elusive assassin girl that had been sent on various missions across the globe for the past couple of years. She was wearing knee-high black leather boots and sexy fishnet stockings, beneath a black miniskirt and matching top, with a long black-and-red cape that flowed out behind her, giving her a darkly regal appearance. Her long black hair was set into a ponytail away from her face, her half cast Oriental features displaying a look of pride and accomplishment as she strode into the room behind her master. Shiva squinted his eyes and watched as Rudra moved to the large mirror at the north side of the room. She stopped and faced the assembled group, folding her arms, patiently awaiting Mr. X’s address. Very odd, Shiva thought to himself as he stared at her. She hadn’t sat down with the rest of the group, and seemed to be avoiding eye contact with him for some reason. Shiva had never really had the chance to meet Rudra properly, he was always too busy with Syndicate business elsewhere, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he somehow knew her; there was something about her that he recognised, as if she were someone he knew from a past life, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He was sure he recognised her, who was she? He knew that ‘Rudra’ was only a codename, but as for her true identity, he was none the wiser. He shook the thought aside, dismissing her as a hired assassin and nothing else, turning his attention to Mr. X, who was sitting himself down in the large chair at the opposite end of the table. “And now to business,” Mr. X said. “I want to thank you all for coming on such short notice, but I thought it best if this meeting took place sooner rather than later.” There were nods and murmurs of agreement from along the table. “Things are starting to happen,” X continued, “events that are going to set my plans irreversibly into motion. There is no going back. Operation Shadow Hand must begin immediately if it is ever to succeed.” “At last,” one of the guests said. “After all these years of planning…”

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“Yes,” X smiled with anticipation. “This operation has been on the drawing board since the very formation of the Syndicate nineteen years ago. We may not be quite ready for the end yet, but like I just said, recent events are forcing us to make a start.” He pushed his chair back with a scrape and stood, beginning to pace around the table slowly, giving everyone a full view of Rudra. “Allow me to begin this meeting by introducing Rudra, my top assassin.” Rudra bowed slightly, but said nothing. “Rudra has been conducting some very high profile assassinations on my behalf,” X continued, “effectively laying the groundwork for Operation Shadow Hand to commence. She has just returned from Russia, where she successfully eliminated Colonel Český Romonov. Romonov’s death has consequentially plunged the Russian military into a state of chaos… a state of chaos that will be ‘reordered’ by our new insider that is to take his place… Colonel Khristenko.” Shiva smiled. “And at the same time, the Syndicate will gain a significant foothold in Russia and Eastern Europe, a foothold that will be vital when we begin our nuclear program…” X grinned, licking his lips. “Indeed, Leon, indeed. Rudra has achieved a great victory for this Syndicate.” He moved closer to Rudra, gesturing to the assembled guests at the table, beaming like a Cheshire Cat. “Rudra, seeing as we’re all assembled, let me introduce you formally to my Inner Sanctum.” He gestured to Shiva sitting at the other end of the table. “First we have Leon Shiva, my right-hand-man, Chairman of the Syndicate Oversight Committee and Overseer of the Shadow Hand Projects.” Shiva nodded to her, finally getting the chance to look her in the eye. “Nice to finally meet you in person, Rudra,” he said. “Though I have to admit, you seem very familiar to me, as though we have met before?” Rudra was quick to shake her head. “You’re mistaken, Leon. Ah, Shiva.” She seemed to fluster, but recovered quickly. “We’ve never met. It’s a pleasure.” “Are you sure?” Shiva squinted his eyes again. “Yes…” Mr. X didn’t seem to notice their little exchange, instead continuing with the introductions. “Onihime and Yasha, directors of research and development for Project Homo Superior,” he gestured towards two identical-twin blonde women who wore strange-looking purple jumpsuits. “They are most talented in the field of genetic engineering and cloning…” He moved on to the man in a lab coat seated next to them. “…and my insider at Los Angeles Psychiatric Hospital, Simon Jerrin. One of the Homo Superior scientists responsible for getting that particular project off the ground.” “A pleasure to meet you, Rudra,” Jerrin said, nodding. “Dr. Henry Dahm,” X continued, gesturing toward the elderly man with long funky hair protruding from the sides of his head. “My top scientist, and one of the world’s leading cyberneticists. Mastermind of Project X.” Rudra nodded, and a smile came over her face. “I’m already well acquainted with Dr. Dahm. He had designed some very handy equipment for my mission in Russia.” X smiled. “Of course. Then finally, we have the leaders of the LA street gangs themselves – Electra, of the 69 Bar, Abadede, of the underground wrestling circuit, Rocky Bear, of the shipping and dockyards, and Antonio, of the drugs running cartel.” Rudra acknowledged each of them in turn, pleased she was now being formally recognised in the Syndicate for her work. It had taken some time to prove

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herself as a worthy member of this organisation, but apparently she had now succeeded. Mr. X nodded, happy that Rudra had seemingly been accepted amongst the Inner Sanctum members as a worthy means to an end for Operation Shadow Hand. He took a deep breath, and proceeded to change the subject. “Unfortunately,” he breathed, “the flavour of this meeting is not so completely agreeable.” The brows of his eyes turned downward in an expression of discontent, as he began to relay his concerns about recent events. “I’m sure many of you are now aware of the fact that Blaze Fielding has… ‘escaped’ from Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital.” Simon Jerrin seemed to shift uncomfortably in his seat, and Shiva shot him an icy glance. Mr. X frowned. “As the basis of the Homo Superior project, Blaze Fielding was intended to be one of our most powerful units to control the masses once Operation Shadow Hand came to full fruition, but since being set free by certain meddlesome police officers, she poses a significant risk to the security of this operation.” Jerrin perked up then, eager to defend his position. “There was no way we could anticipate this situation,” he said, “With the LAPD under Syndicate control, we were assured that something like this couldn’t happen. We couldn’t factor these vigilante actions into the equation.” “Quite right,” X assured him. “Chief O’Hara’s ‘authority’ at the LAPD was apparently not quite enough to keep this experiment quiet. You’re not to blame for this incident, Simon. In fact, I’m led to believe that one of our number tipped off the renegade police officers to exactly what was going on at Edgemont, or at least gave them an idea.” Shiva seemed surprised. “You mean we have a mole in the Syndicate, sir?” X looked at him. “Indeed we do, Leon. My sources tell me that this ‘mole’ is Rakan, one of the ninjas from the Byackto group. He’s been feeding the vigilantes with information for some time now…” “The traitorous bastard!” Shiva hissed, slamming his fists on the table. X nodded, turning to regard Rudra, who had a blunt expression on her face. “Which leads me onto your next assignment, Rudra. I want you to find Rakan, and kill him. This organisation will not tolerate betrayal.” Electra cleared her throat and said, “Rakan often frequents the 69 Bar. That’s as good a place as any for you to start looking.” Rudra bowed her head. “Consider it done, sir. But wouldn’t you like me to go after Blaze Fielding herself?” X shook his head. “No, no, no.” He turned to Simon Jerrin, who was sitting there nervously. “I have a different plan for her. Simon…” Jerrin sat up in his seat, wiping sweat from his brow. “Yes, sir?” “I want you to find this ‘Axel Stone’ character, capture him. We’ll use him as bait to lure in the Fielding girl to my office at the Civic Building in Downtown LA. This will be the perfect opportunity to field-test Robot X.” “Very good, sir.” “Once Robot X has neutralised her,” Onihime said, “we can return her to the lab and perform the scheduled memory wipe procedure.” “And the whole situation is successfully contained…” X grinned, rubbing his hands with glee. Then his teeth clamped down and his face assumed its normal grim posture. “Let’s get to it, people. Dismissed.”

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*** The main stateroom was overtly designed for physical pleasure. It was a relatively large cabin with an en suite bathroom big enough to sport a Jacuzzi and wall fittings that contained colourful bottles full of brand name oils and unguents, including those sensual edible oils sold as sexual aids – the ones that come in various flavours that enable partners to lick them from each other’s bodies. The walls were decorated with erotic paintings and drawings, culminating with a huge oil directly over the bed depicting in all its detail a modern view of a Roman orgy. The lights were dimmed and there was a scent of musk in the air, while from some hidden source came a soft lush melody played on from what sounded like a thousand strings. On the bed itself, late on this warm and luxurious evening, Rudra coupled with Rakan who was slowly understanding that he had never had it so good. She had taken control almost before locking the door to the stateroom and telling him that nobody would disturb them. She had stripped him, pushed him back onto the great bed and said – “For this one night, Rakan, I want you to enjoy me fully. Think of me as the ultimate pinnacle of your sexual dreams.” She had slowly undressed for him, gently revealing her body, not in the vulgar grind of a striptease artist, but with the flair and professionalism of a ballerina. Each movement seemed to have been choreographed just for him, and at last when she was totally naked she came to him, whispering in his ear, rousing him almost to a frenzy, helping him, instructing him as a perfect body slave until he became pliable, and left with a sense that he owed her a great sexual experience. It was then that she began a true domination of him; straddling his body and riding him, goading him onwards until their sweat mingled and he was completely at her mercy. He cried out as he reached his summit for the third time in two hours, and, as he did so, she made a quick subtle movement with her thighs, flipping him over so that he lay face downwards on the bed. With soft, soothing words she began to wrap her strong legs around his body, moving slightly so that eventually she held him in a scissors grip, her thighs wrapped around his chest, slowly loosening and tightening her hold in a manner which made him gasp with pleasure until she suddenly began tensing the muscles as though she were attempting to draw his entire body into hers. He gasped and cried out – “Rudra…No. I can’t breathe…I…No…” It was doubtful if she even heard him as she flexed the muscles even tighter. This was the technique of a boa constrictor and she felt the bones crack in his chest, with half her mind registering the inevitable crunching horror of ribs crumbling. At the moment of his asphyxiation, Rudra cried out in her own and conclusive orgasm – “Yes…Ahhhhh…Yes! Yes! Yeeeesssss!” It was an assassination technique she had used many times during her life, and her master knew how effective she could be. A secret weapon like a spider who consumes its mate after the sex act. She swayed to and fro, still rubbing herself against his corpse, moaning and supremely satisfied in her moment of glory. She flicked the dead body onto its back, then slowly unwound herself, as though woken from a trance by the soft knock on the stateroom door. She opened up, unconcerned about her nakedness.

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Mr. X stood in the doorway, grinning with pride. “The spider and the traitor, huh?” he said as he gently took her in his arms and rocked her as one would lull a child into comfort or sleep. “Good work, my child. Very good work indeed. Now put some clothes on. I have another job for you.”

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16 Personal Demons

In her personal quarters on Third Base, Rudra stretched her aching muscles and started a mental relaxation drill she’d taught herself in Japan, preparing for a long night’s sleep, unsure of when she’d next get the opportunity to do so. Her next assassination mission would be taking her to the other side of the world, to the middle-eastern country of Lima, and the death of the War Minister there would be no easy feat. The mission would involve a long flight, more parachute jumping and espionage, more risking of life and limb. It wasn’t a problem; she relished the chance to kill another high-profile target, but these kind of missions required willpower and dedication, and this in turn required plenty of sleep, rest and relaxation. She went into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror, unsure of the woman she saw staring back at her. She didn’t look exhausted, she looked perfectly fine physically, but she felt thin, like butter scraped over too much bread. For a moment the thought entered her mind that her line of work was finally catching up to her, that all the death, killings and violence was finally taking its toll on her state of mind, but she quickly shook this thought aside, remembering that these were exactly the kind of things she thrived on, nay, the kind of things she lived for. She sighed heavily, remembering the events of the Inner Sanctum meeting earlier that day, remembering how it felt to be ‘introduced’ formally to Leon Shiva, a man she thought, and indeed hoped, that she’d never meet again. A ghost from the past; a past that seemed to be catching up with her. ‘Rudra’ was only her codename after all, named after a Rigvedic god of the storm, the hunt, death, Nature and the Wind. “One who makes all beings cry at the time of cosmic dissolution.” Such a meaning made the word a perfect choice for her codename, to her the very sound invoked a feeling of dark foreboding, dread, and doom. But most importantly, the word ‘Rudra’ was in fact an archaic form of ‘Shiva’, for it was this that was her family name. This was her true identity. Her real name. Kagami Shiva. Tears suddenly started to form in her eyes, and she swallowed hard, leaning both her arms down on the wash basin, drawing herself closer to the mirror, her breath lightly condensing on its clean surface. Tears scorched her face. Leon Shiva had recognised her only too well, for he was her brother, plain and simple. But so many years had passed since they had last seen each other, since they could have been called a family, so many years… So much pain… The man was effectively a stranger to her now. In the time since, she had grown from a little naïve girl into the strong, confident woman she is today. Besides, she had written him out of her life a long time ago. He had made the choice to abandon her, and she had never forgiven him for it.

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She closed her eyes, wiping away tears, her shoulders buckling as she began to cry to herself, painful memories of her childhood beginning to surface. She remembered… She remembered her early childhood, during the late 1990s; she remembered smiling and being happy, playing games with her older brother Leon, laughing with him as he held her in his strong arms, as he sat her on his shoulders and gave her piggy-back rides across the open fields and orchards near their father’s home. Their father… Illias Shiva… had been a great man, a man that both Leon and Kagami looked up to with great love and respect. Neither children had known their respective mothers, so growing up with father meant the parent-child bond between them was extra special. Their father was a master of ninjitsu, and would spend long hours training them in that ancient Japanese art, as well as taking them on bare-back horse riding trips across Japan’s open countryside, looking for treasure, seeking adventure, always finding something new to teach them every day. In the year 2002, when Kagami was ten years old, this picturesque childhood memory changed forever, when her brother Leon left the family home and travelled to the United States to join the Air Force. Kagami never wanted her brother to leave, but Leon was so eager to seek adventure, to become some sort of player on the world stage, he couldn’t be convinced otherwise. He gave Kagami a loving kiss on the forehead just before leaving for Tokyo Airport, promising that he would return someday soon to visit her, to tell her all about America… That was the last she ever saw of her brother, even when Zeed terrorists burst into the family home three years later, murdered her father and tried to kill her too. They burned down the house, destroying all their belongings, and Kagami had very nearly died, had been within a hair’s breadth of death. For five days Kagami had lay, brutally injured, with the corpse of her father… for five long, painful days she had wished to herself that somehow Leon would return and save her… that Leon would return as he promised he would and take her away from this nightmare… Leon… Why weren’t you there? Her brother never returned, never came into her life again. So to her… he no longer existed. She renounced her former identity, the name ‘Kagami Shiva’ that no longer had any meaning for her, and adopted a new name… Rudra. With a basic knowledge of the ninjitsu forms, Rudra started a new life as a freelance bounty hunter, getting involved with some extremely dangerous individuals, working for ever-increasing sums of money as her experience in the field of murder and sabotage grew, earning a reputation as a skilled and lethal killer. Her mind turned sour and cold; every kill brought her closer to the dark abyss that enveloped her mind today, and she began working as a true assassin, gaining a reputation as the best in the business. Her reputation eventually attracted the attention of Senator George Xetheus, who began to employ her services working for his criminal Syndicate. The rest, as they say, is history… Rudra took a deep breath, collecting herself. Speaking to Leon Shiva at the Inner Sanctum meeting hadn’t been easy… she truly had no idea up until very recently that Leon was involved with the Syndicate at such a high level, indeed, had no idea that he was even still alive. The confrontation had clearly reopened some old wounds, demonstrating to her that the pain of her childhood had never truly subsided,

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but she was determined not to let her petty emotions get in the way of what had to be done. She moved away from the mirror and went to the fold-out bunk that served as her bed while she stayed at this island facility, then laid down without undressing. Closing her eyes, her mind began to go over the details of the mission in Lima, and the plethora of different killing methods she could use to assassinate her next target. My name is Rudra. Sleep overwhelmed her.

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17

Comatose State August 2016

The Statue of Liberty depicted a woman, standing upright, dressed in a flowing robe and a seven point spiked crown representing the Seven Seas, holding a stone tablet close to her body in her left hand and a flaming torch high in her right hand. Rudra was struggling at the end of a long swinging ladder that hung from the statue’s torch, some one-hundred-fifty feet from the ground, battered, riddled with gunshot wounds, and close to death. Above Rudra, the ladder was swaying as O’Connell came down, rung by rung. Two rungs above Rudra, the FBI agent took one hand from the ladder and pulled a small throat microphone from inside his shirt, speaking into it rapidly above the noise of the wind. “Now, Rudra, it’s time for our last goodbye, I think.” O’Connell stepped down the ladder to the rung directly above Rudra and raised his booted foot to bring it down on Rudra’s hand. As he did so, the rung gave way with a sharp crack. Rudra felt O’Connell’s body brush against hers as he dropped. In a reflex, she grabbed out with one hand and caught O’Connell’s left wrist. The man looked up at her, sweat and terror on his face. “Rudra,” he called, his eyes pleading. “Haul me up. For God’s sake, woman… haul me up!” “Go to hell!” Rudra shouted and released her grip on his wrist. O’Connell screamed, and plummeted all the way down to the statue’s foundation. At the same moment the ladder started to buckle, threatening to come loose, the wire threads beginning to detach themselves. Over the noise of the wind, Rudra thought she could hear a helicopter. Hanging precariously, she saw a Syndicate-marked chopper, heading straight for her, and as it hovered as near as was feasible, her eyes widened with hope. The pilot was manoeuvring the chopper closer and closer. Behind him, Leon Shiva stood, barking instructions. After a minute’s jigging from side to side, the pilot brought the craft’s port landing skid to a point just in front and below where Rudra hung. It was her only chance, for the ladder was about to totally give way around her. She swung herself out and grabbed hold of the skid at the moment the chopper backed off and started to move away. Shiva reached down to help her aboard, and she collapsed onto the main cabin floor, coughing and spluttering. “The FBI agent…” she spat. “… is dead. It’s taken care of…” Shiva nodded. “Good. Save your strength, Rudra. Your injuries are severe.” ***

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When Rudra awoke, she found herself in a medical bay. Dr. Dahm was leaning over her, monitoring the heartbeat output on a ventilator machine beside the bed. When he saw that she was regaining consciousness, a relieved smile came over his face. “It took you long enough,” he said softly. She moaned, took a deep lungful of air, then managed to prop herself up on one elbow and move into a sitting position. “How long have I been unconscious?” she mumbled. Dahm’s brow wrinkled in a look of concern. “You’ve been in a coma for over four months,” he told her. “You sustained more than a dozen gunshot wounds, and your right arm was broken in five places. You’re extremely lucky to be alive.” “Four months?” she said, feeling exasperated. “That makes it the year 2017…” She swallowed dryly, and Dahm handed her a plastic cup filled with ice cold water. “Drink,” he instructed. She didn’t resist, grabbing at the cup eagerly, then gulped back the contents, spilling water down her chin. When she was done, she threw the empty cup to one side and gasped for breath. “Where am I?” she asked. “The Syndicate’s underground stronghold in the Nevada Desert,” Dahm said. “The Project Y facility.” Rudra nodded, the events leading up to this moment all coming flooding back now. Blaze Fielding and the renegade police officers had destroyed the Third Base facility, along with all the Project X supersoldier research. Mr. X had lost his body in the explosion, but Dr. Dahm had managed to keep X alive by preserving his central nervous system and using him as the subject for the experimental Project Y. With the Syndicate beginning its nuclear program in the spring of 2016, Colonel Khristenko, the insider in the Russian military that Rudra had helped to plant, was smuggling Laxine into the United States so that the Syndicate could build nuclear bombs. It wasn’t long, however, before the Laxine smuggling attracted the attention of the FBI, with one agent Steve O’Connell leading the investigation. In order to throw them off the Syndicate’s trail, Rudra was dispatched to deal with the situation, and it had culminated in that fateful encounter on the Statue of Liberty in New York. “What happened with the Feds?” Rudra asked then. Dahm looked at her blankly. “My mission. Was I successful?” “Ah,” Dahm said. “Yes. Yes, you were. Our Laxine importing operation remains in full swing. You did well, Rudra. Mr. X wants to congratulate you personally, once you are awake and you feel well enough to walk.” Rudra nodded. She hadn’t actually spoken to Mr.X since before he lost his body, and the idea of speaking to him now, after having spent four months in a comatose state, somehow seemed daunting. Still, she was determined not to stay in this medical bay for longer than was absolutely necessary, eager to get back to work helping to usher in the revolution that X had promised by way of Operation Shadow Hand. “I feel fine to walk,” she said, pulling back the white sheet and swinging her legs out of the bed. Her bare feet touched the cold steel of the floor and she inhaled sharply as she realised she was naked. “I’ll need my clothes,” she said, giving Dahm an icy look. “Or should I just go like this?” Dahm licked his lips. “I would suggest clothes.” He moved to a locker by the wall and pulled out her black outfit, which was neatly folded with the red-and-black

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cape sitting on top. He handed it to her and averted his eyes politely as she dressed herself. As she pulled on her fishnet stockings, Rudra asked, “So how is the boss coping without his body?” Dahm raised an eyebrow. “Very well, my child. Very well indeed. He’s getting to grips with the Robot Y prototype as a means of moving around, at least until a more… permanent solution presents itself. But you’d have to speak to Onihime and Yasha to see how progress is going in that field… I’m merely a cyberneticist, my dear.” Rudra, fully dressed, stepped over to the door threshold, then turned back to look at him. “I’m ready. Take me to him.”

***

Dr. Dahm pressed his hand to the electronic palm reader. The scanner performed its sweep of his palm print, then he took his hand away as the computer’s dull, monotonous voice announced, “Access Granted.” There was a beep and the door slid open. “Here we are,” he said. Dahm led Rudra through the door into the Command Facility, the largest room in the base, where quantum computers lined the walls with technicians hovering around them, as they constantly monitored the large medical vat that was stationed in the middle of the room. Inside the medical vat were the remains of Mr. X - a human brain, connected to a spinal cord, immersed in synthetic chemicals that were constantly being filtered and revitalised, keeping the brain alive. “Sir!” Dahm called excitedly as they approached the vat. An assistant standing by the vat peered at them over her glasses, then moved away swiftly. “I have good news. Rudra is awake, and she is here to see you, as per your instructions.” Rudra stared at the brain and bowed her head respectfully, unsure of whether or not Mr. X could actually see her. “Excellent,” Mr. X’s voice boomed through a hidden loudspeaker. “Rudra, my child. Welcome back to the land of the living…” “Thankyou sir,” she said. “It’s good to be back. Dr. Dahm tells me my efforts to quell the FBI’s snooping were successful.” “Indeed they were, Rudra. Thanks to you, the Syndicate will soon be completing our first nuclear warhead, which we will use to destroy Wood Oak City, the first target of our international bombing campaign.” “Very good, sir,” Rudra nodded. There was a moment of silence as X seemed to contemplate something, then he said, “Henry, have you told young Rudra about the contingency plans?” “No, sir,” Dahm answered. “I thought it would be best coming from you…” “What contingency plans?” Rudra asked, curiously raising an eyebrow. Mr. X seemed to chuckle through his loudspeaker. “Contingency plans should Project Y fail, my dear. Although I have every confidence in Henry’s work, the possibility that Robot Y will not live up to expectations remains. That is why I have commissioned these contingency plans and established a new Shadow Hand Project, which I want you to oversee as Project Leader. I already have Onihime and Yasha hard at work on research and development, using a digital copy of my brainwaves…”

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Rudra frowned. “Well, I’m honoured, sir, but… I… I don’t understand. What contingency plans?” “I call it ‘homo universalis’.” X boomed. “The Flesh of the Gods…”

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18 Contingency Program December 2018

As Rudra strolled down the corridors of the homo universalis cloning facility, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was all just a big waste of time… Since Blaze Fielding and her team had destroyed the Project Y facility and killed Mr. X, the Syndicate had changed beyond recognition, barely having survived the exposure to the world’s media and the subsequent arrests of many of its top personnel, including Dr. Dahm, who was now imprisoned at Arkham Asylum… The Syndicate Oversight Committee, under the control of Leon Shiva, had established a new group, the ‘New Syndicate’, joining what remained of the original Syndicate with the most dangerous criminal organisations from around the world, and although they still strived to achieve the revolution, and were indeed larger and more powerful than ever before, Rudra wondered if Shadow Hand could ever truly succeed without Mr. X himself… Project homo universalis was the key to bringing Mr. X back, but even now, almost two years since its inception, the Project was very much in the early stages, with years to go until true results could be seen, and Rudra had a niggling feeling that it would never work. Every time she came here, to this remote underground complex, no progress had ever really been made and she always left feeling disappointed. A part of her remained hopeful, however, otherwise she would have given up a long time ago. She rounded a corner and passed through the mechanical door into the main lab of the complex, where, as usual, Onihime and Yasha were hard at work. They were the best of the best in the field of genetic engineering and cloning, their tech easily decades ahead of the rest of the world, and if anyone could make this Project work, it was them. Onihime was bent over a microscope, carefully studying some kind of sample; Yasha was speaking to somebody over a telephone, and neither of them seemed to notice as Rudra approached. “Onihime,” Rudra said, getting her attention. The blonde-haired scientist looked up from the microscope, then smiled. “You startled me, Rudra. Welcome back.” Rudra nodded. “Thankyou. How’s it going down here? Any progress?” Onihime smiled, her tired-looking eyes crinkling with pride. “Yes, actually. I’ve finally managed to isolate the gene responsible for retaining memory patterns in a clone body.” “Really?” Rudra seemed surprised. “After all this time? You’ve finally done it?” “I certainly have,” Onihime beamed. “This breakthrough will eliminate the need to grow a sentient clone and the necessity of memory wipe procedures, as was so vital in the homo superior Project. Coupled with Yasha’s breakthrough growth

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acceleration experiments, I believe we may be ready to start developing our first homo universalis foetus.” Rudra blinked, shocked at the implications. “Well, that… that’s fantastic! When can we get started?” Onihime took a deep breath. “Well, I have a few final tests to perform, but I’m reasonably confident we can begin with our first homo universalis subject in a matter of days.” Rudra nodded, swallowing dryly. “It couldn’t have come at a better time,” Yasha told them. She had finished her conversation on the telephone and was walking across the lab floor to join them. “I’ve just received word that Leon Shiva has died, killed by Blaze Fielding’s group. It’s throwing the New Syndicate into total disarray…” Rudra’s eyes widened. “What?” Her brother… Killed… “How did it happen?” Yasha’s nostrils flared. “Apparently they managed to trace the New Syndicate headquarters to the Bank of China Tower. Shiva was reportedly thrown from the roof.” Rudra clenched her jaw muscles. “Those interfering bastards! They seem to plague us at every turn! And now they’ve killed Leon…” She made a silent vow to herself for vengeance. Then an idea came to her, and she raised an eyebrow, turning to Onihime. “If I were to recover Leon’s body...” Rudra began. “Could you bring him back, the same way we are bringing back Mr. X?” Onihime licked her lips, taking a deep breath, then blew it out. “It’s possible. I don’t see why not…” “Wait,” Yasha insisted. “What about brain death? Shiva’s easily been dead for over a day… we’re always the last to find things out down here.” Onihime shook her head. “The brain death issue is no longer a problem. All I need is a complete DNA strand, and the brain itself. Remember the superstring residue…” “Ah, yes,” Yasha said. “Of course. But Rudra, are you sure this is what Mr. X would have wanted? He was very specific about his plans for homo universalis. I’m not sure if he had factored Shiva into the equation…” Rudra frowned. “The boss is relying on us to bring him back. Right now, he’s dead, and so is Shiva. Until that changes, I’m calling the shots. And if we want the Syndicate to ever recover from this mess, I say we bring Shiva back… we will not be beaten by a bunch of imbecile police officers!” Yasha nodded. “Very well. But we will require Shiva’s body. It’s being held at an FBI morgue in Washington D.C.” “Just leave that to me,” Rudra muttered.

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19 Firestorm Headquarters May 1st 2021

Swerving along a twisting two-lane highway deep in the Colorado Rockies, Joe Musashi, never a very good driver, felt it was necessary to check his road map every time he was headed into a turn. As if this wasn’t dangerous enough, he was speeding, eager to reach his destination as quickly as possible. Then, at long last, after four full days on the road for a trip that should have taken thirty-six hours, he saw the faded sign: “CREEK MOUNTAIN, U.S. GOVERNMENT SPECIAL ZONE.” He turned the oil-burning, steam-hissing rental car, a black ‘68 Dodge Charger with a tape of Elvis’s Greatest Hits permanently lodged in the 8-track player, off the highway and up the steep, tree-lined entrance road. When he saw the Firestorm personnel at the gate, he was so relieved he honked his horn and waved. Pulling up to the checkpoint, he encountered a pair of not-very-amused guards, hands on holsters. One of them stepped out of the kiosk and approached the car. “I’m Joe Musashi,” he said. The men at the gate should have been expecting him. “I didn’t think I was going to make it.” He handed a bundle of papers Blaze had given him over to the guard, who studied them carefully. “Quite a vehicle you’ve got there, Master Musashi,” observed the guard, inspecting the car’s shoddy exterior. “It’s a rental,” Musashi told him. “The cheapest one I could find.” When they raised the gate and waved him through, Musashi coaxed the Dodge up one last hill and then out into the clearing where he expected to find all the Quonset huts, jeeps, and heavy artillery he associated with the words “military base”. Instead, he found two dozen civilian automobiles parked near the mouth of a large cave cut into the side of the mountain. Musashi found a parking spot and turned off the key. The engine continued to chug as he got out of the car and opened the trunk. It finally died with a loud backfire. Adam Hunter jogged up behind Musashi as he was lifting an enormous bag filled with research notes out of the trunk. “Master Musashi! Welcome to Firestorm Headquarters!” Adam had grabbed his hand and was shaking it eagerly. “Where’ve you been? Blaze thought you had changed your mind.” “I decided to drive,” Musashi replied. “It took me longer than I expected. I would usually travel on horseback, but here in the United States, that’s not much of an option. So, this is a converted military base?” Adam nodded, grinning. “Yeah. A former nuclear missile silo. It was abandoned by the military in 2010; we leased it from the government to set up our base of operations during the Syndicate Wars. It serves our purpose well.”

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“I see you have a contingent of guards and personnel…” “The guards are here for our protection,” Adam explained. “They’re all highly trained. And since we became an official detective agency, the office staff handle a lot of our paperwork…” They walked through a pair of giant concrete doors and into a dark cavernous hall. When his eyes adjusted to the light, Musashi saw they were in a very large room with a polished concrete floor. The only things in the room were a small drab shack made of corrugated tin and a guard’s kiosk next to it. Adam signalled to the guard without breaking stride, and the doors of the little shack swung open automatically. Musashi followed him into the small structure. “We all call this thing the telephone booth,” Adam explained, “like on Get Smart.” Musashi had no idea what that meant, even when the room around them shuddered and then began to sink. The small room was actually an elevator. One that was descending at a brisk clip. It seemed to Musashi that it was a long way between floors. He watched the numbers go by: 5, 6, 7… Adam, used to it, offered Musashi a stick of gum. “Equalises your ear pressure.” Musashi raised an eyebrow, stone-faced. “I’ll be fine, thankyou.” Adam smiled. “So how was your return home? Is everything well?” Musashi nodded slowly. “The Oboro Dōjō is coping well in my absence. I was able to dig up some research on this ‘Socharis’ character from our records while I was there.” He held up his bag. “And it was nice to see my wife, Naoko, again. Three months from now she will birth our first child, but she understands the importance of tracking down this ‘Dragon Lord’ as soon as possible, to make the world a safer place to raise the child. She expresses her sorrow for the death of Max Hatchett…” Adam swallowed dryly, blinking. “Yeah… we’re all kinda… torn up about that at the moment. It’s been a real tough week here…” Adam started to say something else, but the elevator stopped in front of the number 20. The doors opened onto a hallway as sterile as you’d find in any hospital. Musashi followed Adam through a buzz of neon lightbulbs, past closed office doors, and around several corners moving deeper into the antiseptic subterranean maze until Adam suddenly stopped and knocked on one of the doors. “Blaze? Are you in there?” The door cracked open and out came Blaze Fielding’s head. She smiled when she saw them, and came out into the hallway. “Good to see you finally made it, Master Musashi,” she said. “Welcome to Firestorm.” *** “I still can’t believe he’s gone…” Blaze Fielding sat in the mess hall, her head in her hands, tears flowing down her cheeks. Axel Stone, Adam Hunter and Joe Musashi were seated at the metallic, rectangular table around her, looking equally as depressed, their expressions grim. “Why did he have to die?” Blaze asked no-one in particular. The sound of her voice echoed around the large clinical room, adding to the forbidding atmosphere. She swallowed in the depths of her throat, sniffed, and wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to pull herself together. No matter how hard she tried, she

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just couldn’t set aside the feelings of sadness and remorse, which still plagued at her after Max Hatchett’s death a week earlier… “Max died a hero,” Axel reassured her, sitting forwards in his chair. “He went down fighting, which is the way he always wanted it to be…” Blaze shook her head vigorously. “But he died during a mission, Axel. As the leader of Firestorm, I’m supposed to be responsible for the safety of all our members. It’s my fault!” “No!” Adam said. “You’re not at fault, Blaze. Nobody is. Max knew the risks involved when he took this job. We all did… every mission we take, we’re risking our lives; there’s always a chance we may never come back when we step through that door.” Axel nodded, leaning across the table and taking Blaze’s hand in his own. He squeezed the hand firmly, and the sensation seemed to shake her back into reality somewhat. She looked at him as though she’d never seen him before. “Max Hatchett made this place happen,” Axel said, a very serious look coming over his face. “As a member of Firestorm, he was our voice. Our conscience. He was a very courageous man.” He licked his lips and swallowed dryly, blinking, clearly emotional. “He was a good man. For those of us lucky enough to have known him… he was also a friend. That’s how I want him to be remembered. I don’t want you, or anybody else blaming themselves for his death.” Dumbly, Blaze managed a nod. “You’re right. But it’s just such a shame, such a waste of life…” Axel squeezed her hand tighter, a sympathetic look on his face. “We’ll get through this, hon. I promise.” At that moment, the double doors burst open and Skate came walking into the room, looking severely pissed off. His face was heavily scarred from his encounter with Bruce in Neo London, and both of his eyes were bloodshot. “If anyone’s to blame for Max’s death,” he hissed, “it’s me!” “Skate!” Adam exclaimed, looking up. “Shouldn’t you be resting?” “Oh, go fuck yourself, Adam!” Skate shouted, his brow turned down in a furious expression. “I’ve had enough fucking rest! I’ve been listening to your conversation on the monitors. You were a fucking man down!” Skate was pointing his finger aggressively at Axel and spitting as he shouted. “If I wasn’t cooped up in that fucking bed while you guys were taking on Union Lizard, Max would probably still be alive now!” “Hey!” Adam shouted. He was shocked at Skate’s sudden outburst, hadn’t seen his brother this worked up for some years. “Now just hold on one goddamn minute, little brother!” “No!” Skate spat. “I’ve had enough of forever living in your shadow, Adam! You’ll fucking listen to me for a change! Max’s death was my fault. You guys should never have made the assault on Union Lizard without me!” “Skate!” Blaze hissed, fresh tears swelling in her eyes. “Please stop!” Axel got to his feet and pointed one finger at Skate, barking angrily. “We had no choice. We had to assault Union Lizard before word reached Sauros that we were coming…” “I’ve read your report!” Skate shouted back. “Sauros was expecting you. So don’t give me that bullshit! You were a man down and you went in needlessly. Max died for nothing, you bastards!” “Get out!”

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Blaze screamed, leaping to her feet, tears pouring down her cheeks. Her chair fell violently to the floor behind her. Skate looked at her like a wounded puppy. “You heard me!” Blaze hissed, fuming with rage. “Get the fuck out! Now!” Skate’s eyes darted to all the faces in the room with a look of absolute disgust on his face. “You know what? Fuck Firestorm!” he cried, “Fuck you Blaze, fuck the lot of you! I hate you! I’m outta here!” Then he turned and stormed out, kicking open the doors as he went. Adam’s heart was racing. He went to chase Skate down, but Axel held him back. “Adam, let him go,” he said. “Let him go. He can’t go far, not with that facial injury…” For a moment everyone was silent, emotions and tensions running high. Blaze was crying quietly to herself, hurt by Skate’s words. Joe Musashi, who had been sitting observing the whole scene, merely raised an eyebrow. “The boy will learn the error of his ways...” “I’m sorry, Blaze,” Adam puffed. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him…” Blaze clenched her jaw muscles, but said nothing, avoiding their gazes. Axel took a deep breath, then let it out in a weary sigh. “Max’s death has had a big effect on everyone in this group.” He nodded to himself. “We all need time to mourn.” Suddenly, the intercom on the wall by the door started flashing. Axel frowned, remembering his order to the staff not to disturb them unless it was a matter of great importance. He sighed, and walked over to it resignedly. He picked up the receiver. “Yes?” “Mr. Stone,” came a female voice. It was one of the office workers on the administration level. “Someone is here to see you…” Axel massaged his brow with his free hand, slightly exasperated. “I told you we didn’t want to be disturbed right now…” “With respect, sir,” the receptionist said. “I thought you’d want to see this guest immediately. He’s from British Intelligence, sir, and an old friend of Firestorm… one you’ve worked with in the past, during the Project Y incident…” “Oh?” Axel asked, slightly curious. “Who?” “You’re not going to believe this, sir. It’s Dr. Gilbert Zan. He’s alive, and he’s here, on the base…”

***

Eddie “Skate” Hunter stormed through the corridors of the base, pissed off with the world. He walked as fast as his legs could carry him towards the medical wing where he’d been recovering from his injury, wanting nothing more than to hurt somebody, or something – to take the pain away from himself, if only for a moment. In his mind, he truly blamed himself for the death of Max Hatchett. If only he’d been there, if only he hadn’t been pathetic enough to sustain injuries to his face at the hands of a circus freak, he might have had the chance to save Max, to have been there when he was needed the most, when Firestorm confronted the monstrosity known as ‘Jet’.

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He turned a corner and came to the door marked, “Infirmary”. Without stopping he hurried inside, and when he saw the hospital bed where he’d been laying for the past week, he opened his mouth and roared in anger. “Fuck!” he cried, then in one swift motion, he bent down and lifted the bed from the ground and hurled it across the room like he was Superman. The bed smashed across medical equipment, scattering towels and packaged supplies onto the floor in a heap. Fuming, Skate turned and grabbed a night lamp that was screwed into the wall, and heaved as hard as his muscles would give, ripping the screws out of the plaster, then he tossed the lamp across the room in the direction of the overturned bed. He roared again, kicking at a pile of spare clothes at his feet, then span around and launched a punch into the wall, cracking plaster. “Max…” Skate slumped to the ground, exhausted. Tears began to swell in his eyes, and then he cried, long and hard.

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20

A Pleasant Reunion

Axel Stone pushed open the door to the conference room. The room was unlike the others in the base. It was simply but tastefully decorated. Most of the space was occupied by a large circular mahogany table surrounded by two dozen straightbacked chairs. An elegant floral arrangement had been imported from somewhere, and the kitchen staff had set up a buffet table laden with fare vastly superior to the gruel he’d been picking at for the last week. The whole scene was swank and polished, and it reminded him of a cocktail party being held in the club at the LAPD. Adam and Musashi were seated at the conference table, whilst Blaze was chatting to Skate and the tall, familiar figure of Dr. Zan. She gave Axel a wink, then padded across the carpet toward him with Zan in tow. “Axel!” Blaze was glad to see him. “There’s someone I want you to meet…” “Hi Zan,” Axel said, grinning. He extended his hand for a shake. “I have to admit, this is a real surprise!” “Pleasure to meet you again, Axel,” Zan said, his handshake firm and strong. “It’s been far too long…” Axel nodded. “Yes, it has. We all thought you were dead, held a funeral for you and everything…” “In a manner of speaking, I was dead,” Zan explained. “Biologically at least. But my technological components were exhumed from my grave by operatives in British Intelligence, a year after the funeral. They were able to restore my memory patterns digitally, and brought me ‘back to life’, albeit in an android body.” He extended his arms wide, showing off his new, shiny, golden body exterior. His head was covered in synthetic skin, now completely artificial. “So you’re a full-on robot now?” Skate asked. “I prefer the term ‘artificial person’ myself,” Zan smiled. Axel raised his eyebrows. “So what have you been doing for the past couple of years?” Zan’s head whirred as he turned to look at Axel. “I have been in the employ of Britain’s secret Intelligence Service, MI7. We have been closely following world events since the breakdown of the New Syndicate. More recently, we have been tracking the activities of the one known as ‘Socharis’, the self-proclaimed ‘Dragon Lord’. This is why I have contacted Firestorm… MI7 wishes us to work together to track down this phantom menace. Our goals are one and the same.” Blaze nodded. “Well, it’s good to have you on board once again, Dr. Zan. I only wish Max were here to see this…” “I heard of Max Hatchett’s death,” Zan said, frowning. “My condolences for your loss…” Blaze licked her lips and cleared her throat, nodding. “Well, shall we get this meeting started?” Zan nodded. “Indeed.”

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Everyone took seats around the table, apart from Zan, who preferred to stand. Blaze introduced Zan to Joe Musashi, who was pleased to meet the android. “I have heard much about you,” Musashi said, bowing his head slightly in a sign of respect. “Likewise, Master Musashi,” Zan smiled. “I shall look forward to working with you on this mission.” After a few moments, the meeting was underway, and Zan moved to the head of the table to address the entire group. “MI7 is very concerned about the situation with Socharis,” he said. “He is believed to be working with none other than Dr. Henry Dahm, who was sprung from Arkham Asylum in late October last year.” “Dr. Dahm escaped from Arkham?” Axel asked, shocked. “We had absolutely no idea!” Zan nodded. “Yes. Because the NWO covered it up. Only a handful of people around the world know about it. And like I said, he’s now believed to be working with the Dragon Lord.” Blaze swallowed. “What do you know about him?” Zan turned his head to look at her. “So far, no-one knows what he looks like, or what his true identity is. The word ‘Socharis’ is actually the Greek spelling of the ancient Egyptian god, Seker, who deified the separation of the ba and ka, or body and soul, after death. Seker was depicted as a mummified human who was dragon-headed, and had green skin, symbolising rebirth.” “So somebody has identified with this… ancient Egyptian god,” Adam observed. “And believes themselves to be some kind of reincarnation?” “It would seem so.” “Sauros referred to the Dragon Lord as the ‘immortal one who transcends death’,” Axel recalled. “So I’d say it’s a dead cert we’re dealing with religious fanaticism, as Blaze has been suggesting.” “This…’Socharis’…whoever he is,” Zan begun, “has been rallying the Syndicate Remnant over the last couple of years, apparently aiming for some kind of Syndicate Reformation. With Dr. Dahm by his side, he is rapidly becoming a deadly threat to world security. MI7 believes that if we take down the Dragon Lord, we stand a very good chance of ending the Syndicate Wars forever.” “Where do we start looking?” Blaze asked. Musashi opened his mouth to speak. “Before I killed him, Sauros told me that if we wanted to find Socharis, we should ask the leaders of Neo Chaos, another Syndicate splinter group apparently in close cohorts with the big boss himself.” Zan nodded. “I have heard of this ‘Neo Chaos’ group. Illegal arms dealers who love causing chaos. Killers who would do anything for money. Their methods are ruthless. They are based in New York City, led by a very eccentric man called ‘Ash’. Though they are quite elusive. They have managed to stay hidden from MI7 agents for years…” Axel swallowed. “New York City, huh? Well, it’s as good a place as any to start hunting this ‘dragon’. I have a contact, an old friend from way back, who may be able to help us…”

***

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After showing Zan to one of the guest rooms, Blaze made her way to the personal quarters she shared with Axel and let herself in, stretching her muscles, yawning. Even though they hadn’t been off the base for a few days now, it had been a long and exhausting afternoon, filled with emotional highs and lows, and she’d had to take in a lot of new information on this ‘Dragon Lord’ threat they were facing. The death of Max causing tension within the group… The re-emergence of Zan… Socharis… Dr. Dahm… Right now, she was going to appreciate the chance to hanker down for the night with the man she loved, and get as much R+R as she could before they left for New York. She pulled off her boots and kicked them across the padded hallway, then made her way to the small bedroom, where she found Axel sitting up in their kingsize bed, reading Musashi’s research notes. “Hiya handsome,” she cooed. She reached up and pulled a band out of her hair that was holding it in a ponytail, then shook loose the long, dark hair until it was freely flowing down to the middle of her back. Axel smiled, and put the paper in his hands to one side. “Hi hon. How’re you doing?” “I’m doing well, all things considered,” she told him, smiling. “I have to admit, it was a very pleasant surprise when Zan turned up on our doorstep today…” “Tell me about it,” Axel nodded. “My thoughts are everywhere right now. First Zan turns up, who we find out is now a robot…” “Android,” she corrected him. “Right,” he smiled. “But we also find out Dahm has escaped from Arkham and is working with Socharis. Unbelievable.” “I know,” she said, pulling her top over her shoulders and tossing it to the floor. She unbuttoned her skirt, then slid into the bed next to him, taking a deep, relaxing breath. “A lot can happen in a day. What’re you reading?” she asked. Axel picked up the papers and leafed through them. “It’s a whole bunch of research Musashi brought back from the Oboro Dōjō. A lot of it is concerned with the myths of ‘Socharis’, or rather, the Egyptian god ‘Seker’.” “Anything of any interest?” she queried. “There’s lots of stuff about this Egyptian concept of the soul, the ba and ka, soul and life-force, but its heavy with mystical overtones and mythology. I’m afraid that it’s not going to be much use to Firestorm, I can’t see how anyway…” Blaze nodded. “Well, it’s best we build up a good psychological profile of our enemy… at least until we know what we’re dealing with here.” Axel smiled. “Right.” He reached over and placed the papers onto the bedside cabinet. “So how’re you feeling, hon? That thing with Skate earlier…” She shook her head. “It’s fine. Skate came and apologised to both me and Adam before the meeting. He’s torn up over Max’s death. We all are. We just need time to mourn, to get over it in our own ways.” “Yeah,” Axel nodded. “It’s tough. I’ve known Max since I was at high school, we were the best of friends.” He smiled. “I remember going to the old wrestling circuits, watching him fight. He was a titan in the ring… a cheap date for my first girlfriend, actually...” Blaze laughed, looking into his eyes fondly. “He’ll be missed. Speaking of your old friends, who’s this New York contact you mentioned at the meeting?”

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Axel shrugged. “Oh, we call him ‘Mystery’.” He made a boyish grin, old memories coming to the surface. He sighed a half-laugh. “Mystery’s a childhood friend of mine, real name ‘Sham Mohammad.’ We used to get into some mischief, Sham and me…” “I don’t doubt it,” Blaze chuckled, running a fingernail affectionately down his bare chest. “When did you last see him?” “Oh, years, years ago,” Axel told her, shifting his body beneath the bed sheets so that he was facing her. “I’ve only spoken to him recently through email, found out he’s a fighter in New York.” He placed a hand gingerly on her bare shoulder. “I heard through the grapevine, though, that he was in Wood Oak City when it was nuked by the Syndicate, in 2017…” “Really?” Blaze asked, taken aback, her eyes widening. Axel nodded. “Yeah. He was in the containment centre of a lab from what I hear, dealing with chemicals. The Laxine explosion apparently had an… ‘effect’ on him. But whether that’s true or just hear’ say, I don’t know. We’ll meet up with him in New York, and we’ll find out, one way or the other.” Blaze nodded. “Hopefully he can help us locate Neo Chaos. Then we’ll be one step closer to tracking down the Dragon Lord.” “Best to enjoy what free time we have left…” Axel exhaled his breath deeply, then moved closer to her, lightly kissing her neck. Blaze gave a short moan of pleasure, leaning her head back with a big smile, then reached her arms back and unfastened her bra. She slipped it off, exposing her large, heaving breasts. “Yes,” she whispered, “oh, Axel, yes.” Axel’s hands moved over her breasts, his breathing becoming rugged, and he kissed her as she removed her panties. Grunting, he pulled her on top of him, gritting his teeth as she began to purr and moan with sexual excitement. “Fuck me hard,” she breathed. “Axel, please fuck me.” He didn’t resist. They stayed up long into the night.

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21 New York City May 3rd

Soaked from head to toe and muttering to himself, Sham Mohammad slogged north toward Floral Park, Queens. He was a dark-skinned, clean cut man with brown hair and a mean, scarred complexion, just shy of thirty years old. He had forgotten his umbrella and didn’t have enough money for the bus. His shoes looked like hand-medowns, but the long cashmere trench coat he was wearing gave him an air of respectability. As he walked, he seemed to be lashing out at invisible enemies, spitting. In fact, Sham had to ask himself whether he was really going over the edge this time. Ever since the Laxine explosion in Wood Oak City, his life had never quite recovered…. He’d been “mutated” physically as well as psychologically. That was supposed to have been his day of renewal, his acceptance into the scientific community… but felt instead like his entombment day, the day he was cursed. Now he made his living as a street fighter, under the pseudonym “Mystery”, his childhood nickname. Turning west, he entered a little grocery store on the corner, hoping Mr. Arzumanian would let him put a bottle of wine on his tab. “Mystery, my friend, what’s happen’?” boomed Arzumanian, burly and habitually enthusiastic. “Oh, the usual. I lost my latest fight. So, I was hoping to get a bottle of wine, but I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay you back.” “Go ahead and take one, my friend,” replied the shopkeeper. “I know you’re good for it.” With the bottle of booze completing his “look”, Sham stepped back into the rain and headed for home, wondering why, after all these years, his childhood friend Axel Stone had contacted him to arrange a meeting. He hadn’t seen Axel for well over ten years, and to be quite honest, he thought Axel had outgrown the need for ‘friends’ like Sham Mohammad. Apparently it was very important, so Sham couldn’t turn it down. He might have been many things, but he certainly wasn’t the type of person to abandon his friends when they needed him the most, even if he hadn’t seen them in over a decade. He splashed his way across the parking lot of Tkenchenko’s Tires, a seedy garage in a crumbling brick building. Across the street, a filthy homeless man was lecturing a cat about not digging in the garbage only ten feet from where a toughlooking chauffeur was guarding his sleek limousine. What a messed up city. Sham reached his apartment block and went inside. Sitting in the lobby area waiting for him was his good friend, Lizzie Ortega. She was nineteen years old. “Hey Sham,” Lizzie called. “How was the fight?” He shook his head and held up his wine bottle without speaking. “Oh,” she said. “Oh I see. Well, your friend Axel Stone is here, along with a group of his friends. Quite a motley bunch, if I do say so myself. They’re waiting in the apartment upstairs…”

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Sham nodded, smiling at her, removing his rain-soaked trench coat. “Then let’s go see what they want.”

***

Axel smiled when Sham came through the apartment door. He was closely followed by Lizzie Ortega, the young thing that had shown them in. “Hey Mystery,” Axel said, and shook the man’s hand firmly. “Long time no see.” “Yeah,” Sham said, grinning. He let go of Axel’s hand and wrapped his arms around him in a friendly bear hug. “It’s great to see you again, pal. But something tells me this isn’t a social call. I see you brought some friends…” Axel nodded, and motioned across to the rest of his team. “I’d like to introduce you to the other members of Firestorm. Blaze Fielding, Adam and Skate Hunter, Master Joe Musashi, and Dr. Gilbert Zan…” Sham frowned. “I’m already well acquainted with Mr. Adam Hunter. And Dr. Zan, too. I remember you from my days as a Syndicate thug…” Zan cocked his head, making a whirring sound as he did so. “Yes,” he said. “I believe we have met before, at RoboCy laboratories.” Blaze raised her eyebrows. “You worked for the Syndicate?” Sham nodded, shrugging his shoulders. “It was a long time ago, darlin’. I was young, foolish. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I was lured into the Syndicate by promises of a better way of life… that was until the day I almost died in the bombing of Wood Oak City. Now I’m just a lowly, mutated street fighter trying to make my way in the world.” Axel took a deep breath. “Listen, buddy. We need your help. We need to track down a criminal organisation that operates in the New York area, by the name of ‘Neo Chaos’…” Sham swallowed, and exchanged glances with Lizzie, who seemed deeply concerned. “Neo Chaos?” he repeated. “Why would you want to mess with those guys?” “It’s complicated,” Axel told him. “But we believe they’re quite close to the inner circle of an international terrorist known as ‘Socharis’. We need to track him down, and Neo Chaos is our only lead. We know that their leader is a man named Ash…” Sham nodded briskly, holding up his palms. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know of this ‘Ash’. He runs a… uh… ‘interesting’ nightclub in Newtown Creek, just by the Pulaski Bridge.” Blaze frowned. “Well, what do you mean by ‘interesting’?” Sham licked his lips. “It’s called the ‘Vinci Dungeon’. It’s a bondage club, you know, sadomasochist heaven… but it’s a dangerous place. Lots of rapes take place there.” Blaze flexed her jaw muscles, feeling her aura flow slightly inside her. The very mention of the word rape made her blood run cold. “Is that so? What else can you tell us about this Ash character?” Sham blew air through his lips. “I know he’s the highest-ranking member of Neo Chaos. He has a somewhat complex personality… he’s a … ‘differently pleasured’ individual… but I’ve never met the man myself.”

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“Can you take us to this ‘Vinci Dungeon’?” Axel asked. “Getting into that club is very difficult,” Sham said matter-of-factly. “I don’t think I’d be much help with you there, unless we smashed our way in. But I wouldn’t recommend that… most of the clientele is armed to the teeth.” “What do you suggest?” Sham paced for a moment, staring into space. Then he turned to the team and said, “I think I know someone who can help you get in.” “Yes?” Blaze asked, her eyebrows raised. “His name is Jake Sumner. He’s a cop who’s been working undercover for a couple of years trying to infiltrate Mad Gear. His partner, Motoko, is a personal friend of mine. Mad Gear just happen to be closely allied with Neo Chaos, you see. I’m pretty sure Jake Sumner will be able to get you in.” Axel nodded. “Great.” He turned to Blaze, and grinned. “Put something flashy on, honey. We’re going clubbing.”

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22 The Vinci Dungeon

Newtown Creek was a heavily industrialised area of New York City, and one of the most polluted waterways in North America. It made sense that Neo Chaos would want to hide themselves away here, in one of New York’s ‘forgotten’ areas, where sewage treatment plants and oil spills had made the whole area a total no-go zone. Stretching across the river was the Pulaski, a bascule bridge in which counterweighted deck members pivoted upwards to allow shipping to pass underneath. Axel, Blaze and the team were standing at the very foot of the Pulaski Bridge, watching as an oil tanker steamed its way past. From this spot, they had a magnificent view of the Manhattan skyline, but their enjoyment of it was ruined somewhat by the stench in the air: the stench of smog and industrial waste, so strong and thick it was almost tangible. Each of them were dressed in black leather and PVC outfits, ready for the mission ahead of them. “Okay,” Jake Sumner said, nodding his head. He was dressed in a similar fashion. “The ‘Vinci Dungeon’ nightclub is just around the corner here. It’s in one of the larger, abandoned industrial units, with no markings on the outside. To the casual observer, it’s just another derelict factory…” Jake Sumner was thirty-one years old, but he looked forty. With scruffy dark hair, a dirty beard, a nose that had been broken more than a few times, and a hardened, ravaged stare, he was clearly pulling out all the stops for his undercover police work with Mad Gear terrorists, in order to convince them he was a criminal. He had spent years infiltrating their organisation, gaining the trust of some very dangerous criminal scum, including some from Neo Chaos, so he knew his shit, and Axel Stone respected him for that. Axel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Right, Jake. So how do we get into this club? I assume we can’t just stroll in like we own the place…” Jake chuckled. “Not exactly, no. No, there’s a password system. We knock, and the guy at the door will ask us what the password is. He’ll hold up a certain number of fingers on one hand and give it a number, then do the same again, with a different number and ask for the answer. For example, he’ll hold up three fingers and say, “If this is five…”, then he’ll hold up, say, two fingers… “What’s this?” You have to get it right three times.” Blaze frowned. “You know how it works though, right?” Jake nodded. “Sure. It’s easy. Okay... if he says, “If this is three” and his hand has five fingers up, the answer will automatically be five no matter what. It all depends on how many fingers he has up the first time.” Axel licked his lips, nodding. “Right. Sounds easy enough. And they’ll let us all in?” “Yes,” Jake said. “Besides, if you’re with me they’re not likely to suspect anything.” “Okay, let’s do this.”

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Jake went first, slipping into the shadows between two abandoned buildings that led into a large compound of dark factories. Axel followed closely behind him, with Blaze and the others in tow. Blaze, dressed in nothing but a skimpy black PVC miniskirt and matching black strapless bra, couldn’t help but feel a little overexposed. This whole industrial area was dark and seemed so deserted; it gave her an eerie feeling that sent shivers down her spine. When they had gone no more than a few dozen feet, Jake stopped and knocked on a large, rusty metal door on an inconspicuous looking building. The sound echoed dully in the night. “Now we wait,” Jake told them. Minutes passed. Joe Musashi cleared his throat, beginning to pace. “I am most uncomfortable with this… ‘attire’,” he moaned, his black leathers creaking as he moved. “I do hope this excursion yields results...” Jake looked at Musashi and smirked. “Relax, man.” Another moment of silence, then the door creaked open loudly. A largeframed, obese, balding man appeared from the darkness within, dressed in a gimp outfit. He snorted, then grumbled: “What do you want?” Jake smiled, looking into the man’s eyes. “Big-Go! Long time no see, baby. Look at us, my man. We want to get into the club.” The man at the door, Big-Go, narrowed his eyes, scrutinising the newcomers. He huffed, then held out a fist. Four of the fingers went up. “If this is one,” he said. He put one finger down, leaving only three. “What’s this?” “Four,” Jake replied. Big-Go nodded. He repeated the test two more times, and once he was satisfied that Jake had given him the correct answers, he backed off slightly, allowing the team to enter the darkness beyond the door. “Allright, you can come in,” he told them. “Have fun in there.” Jake nodded, giving Big-Go a friendly pat on the shoulder as he passed through the doorway. Axel, Blaze and the others followed him. “Is Ash in tonight?” Jake asked, turning. “Of course he is,” Big-Go said, closing the door firmly behind them and wedging it shut. He picked up a couple of syringes from a container beside the door and proffered them to the group. “Need some scag?” “We’ll be fine, thanks,” Axel said, feigning a smile. “Suit yourself,” Big-Go yawned, preparing to inject himself. Jake took a deep breath and led the team around a corner, down a series of long corridors, leaving Big-Go behind. The walls were dirty and covered with graffiti; the air was stuffy and reeked of intoxicants and musk. As they walked, the sound of thumping music playing from some hidden loudspeaker got more evident. They could also hear the sound of men and women moaning. They rounded a final corner, and then emerged into the nightclub itself. It was a 150-foot converted factory floor, kitted out with all the usual nightclub interior design elements. The first thing that hit them, though, was the rancid stench in the air. “My, what a charming place,” Zan observed. Spread around the floor and all over couches and beds, groups of people were having sex – in every conceivable way. There were men, women, groups, gays, lesbians, bondage games, and torture – and lots and lots of drug injecting and smoking. Loud drum ‘n’ bass music blasted through seven-foot loudspeakers around

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the walls, and pink strobe lights swivelled and flashed from the ceiling, casting an eerie luminescence over the scene. “Holy shit,” Skate breathed. He’d never seen anything like it in his life. “Fucking hell,” Blaze added. “It’s a mass orgy.” Axel merely glanced at Adam, who returned his gaze: they’d both seen something like this before, back in their days on the LAPD. Not quite as … raw… as this though… Jake pointed across the room to the far side, where another doorway loomed. “If you head through that doorway over there,” he told them, having to shout to be heard over the music, “you’ll find Ash’s personal chambers.” Axel nodded. “You’re not coming with us?” Blaze asked. Jake shook his head. “No. I can’t afford to blow my cover. If I’m linked to any kind of trouble you cause here, Mad Gear will excommunicate me, and all the work I’ve done infiltrating them will be shot. You’re on your own from here on out, I’m afraid.” “Okay, no problem,” Axel said. “Thanks for your help, Jake. We owe you one.” Jake nodded, took one final glance at each of their faces. “Good luck.” Then he slipped back through the corridor they’d emerged from. “Take care!” Blaze shouted after him. When he was gone, Axel took point. “Alright, people. Let’s go. Stay sharp.” He led the group worming through the thousand-strong crowd towards the doorway on the other side of the room. Skate couldn’t help but stare as they passed dozens of couples making love around them. His mouth gradually started to fall open as he watched two women engaging in oral sex, completely naked. The woman on the receiving end was jacking up heroin, making gagging sounds. Blaze frowned. “This place is making me sick…” She had plenty of experience with illegal drugs, was hooked on them herself for many years, but she’d put that all behind her a long time ago now, and the very idea of injecting herself with heroin now filled her with revulsion; made her feel weak at the knees. She didn’t even smoke marijuana anymore; no, she was clean, and had worked hard to lose her addictions. When they reached the doorway on the other side, they slipped inside quickly without being noticed. The hallway beyond was surprisingly clean, carpeted, and almost regal in appearance. A series of paintings lined the walls, illustrated by various artists from around the world. “Hmm. This is something a bit different,” Musashi said, looking at the paintings as they passed. Framed in gold, these paintings depicted strange scenes of ancient battles and exotic dreamscapes. “I’m guessing Ash’s chambers are through this door up ahead,” Axel said. “Wait,” Zan called. “Look at this!” He was standing still, examining one of the paintings closely. The team gathered around him, and looked. The painting portrayed a man in a suit, with the head of a dragon that was opening its mouth to the sky. Electricity, like lightning, was coming out of the man’s hands. Just below the painting, a carved plaque gave the image’s name: FACE OF THE DRAGON

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Blaze swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. Her aura immediately began to swell up inside of her, as her thoughts turned to the nightmare she’d had on the plane to Neo London; the nightmare of the Black Dragon… the Dragon God… “Curious,” Musashi said, lifting an eyebrow. Axel took a deep breath, nodding. “I’d say we’re definitely on the right track here. Come on, let’s confront this ‘Ash’ character and get the fuck out of this dive.”

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23 Ash

Axel pushed the door open and stepped inside. He found himself in a large plush room, obscurely decorated with red silk curtains. The walls seemed to breathe as the curtains billowed in the air thrown out by two overhead fans. A large fourposter bed dominated the centre of the room, and on it a man and a woman were having violent anal sex. “Fuck me like a dog, you nasty fucker!” the woman was hissing. “Come inside my ass this time!” Both of them were completely oblivious to their uninvited guest, who stood there aghast. The other members of Firestorm filed into the room behind Axel a moment later, and froze abruptly as they saw what was going on. The man was dressed in nothing but a pair of pink and green tights, and wore a pink leather sailor hat that was wedged tightly across his brow. A dark goatee dominated his features, and a gold medallion hung around his neck and across his hairy chest, bearing the female sex symbol. From the look in his eyes he was clearly high on drugs. The woman, bent over on all fours with her buttocks high in the air, was completely naked, save for a pair of blue, knee high leather boots. She had long, curly blonde hair and small breasts that jiggled as she moved. She was also clearly high on something. Probably crack, Blaze thought cynically. Musashi lowered his gaze, unable to watch any longer. “Ash!” he called. The man and his female companion both froze and opened their eyes with shock, turning to look at the sound. “What the fuck?” the woman blurted, her face turning bright red. In one swift motion she rolled forward and fell behind the bed with a clunk, reaching for her clothes. Ash, standing on his knees in the middle of the bed, covered his genitals with one hand, pointing accusingly with the other. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he demanded. “These are my private chambers! No-one gets in here without my permission!” Axel Stone stepped forward, with Blaze Fielding at his side. He raised a pistol. “Please, Ash,” he said. “I would have thought someone in your position would be able to recognise us by now…” Ash licked his lips, wiped sweat from his brow. He squinted his eyes, looking from one face to the other. “Now that you mention it… you all seem kind of familiar…” He frowned, then suddenly gasped as he realised who they were. “I…you…you’re Firestorm aren’t you?” Blaze smiled. “Got it in one.” Ash turned to the woman, who was halfway-dressed, looking like a terrified kitten. “Enola,” he said. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave. Come back later.” Enola said nothing, and stumbled her way past them and out the door. Axel watched her go, then returned his gaze to Ash. “Have you come to kill me?” Ash asked.

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“No,” Axel said sternly. He gestured with the gun. “Stand up and put some clothes on. Then we’ll talk.” Ash obeyed, moving to the left of the bed and putting on a bright green thong and a pink leather jacket. He looked ridiculous. His dress sense was awful, was sickening to behold, but he appeared to be quite comfortable with it. “There,” he said, grinning. “Now what have you lovely folks come to lil’ ol’ me about?” His gaze focused on Blaze Fielding, and his eyes drifted hungrily over her large, well-rounded breasts. “If you wanted a good fucking, then you came to the right place. But it’ll take me time to service you all… I only have so much…pump…in me.” He winked at Skate. Skate folded his arms. This guy is a total bisexual freak, he thought. “No,” Axel said bluntly. He had the gun aimed at Ash’s chest, and if the freak make any sudden moves, he was going to put him down. “We came for information… we want to know about your master, Lord Socharis…” Ash clamped his mouth shut. “The Dragon Lord?” he muttered. Then he smiled. “You’re trying to track him down, aren’t you? You want to kill him don’t you?” He laughed, the sound deep and booming. Blaze frowned, and glanced at Axel. “You have absolutely no idea what you’re dealing with,” Ash said. “Lord Socharis cannot be killed. You’re wasting your time.” Axel cocked the gun, cycling a round into place. “Tell us what you know about Socharis, and I won’t kill you…” Ash sneered, sweat pouring from beneath the rim of his hat. “Go ahead, kill me. I won’t tell you anything.” Axel flexed his jaw muscles, his nostrils flared. Exhaling his breath completely, he muttered: “Have it your way, freak…” He squeezed the trigger – - but Ash was way too fast. In an instant, Ash was ducking and weaving his way across the room towards them, and in the blink of an eye he’d reached Skate and thrown a hard kick into his gut. “Fuck!” Skate wheezed and flew back, surprised and winded. Ash pulled off his hat then, taking a gun that he’d concealed in the lining, raising it towards Adam, pulling the trigger… “Shit!” Adam yelled, ducking for cover. The bullet blasted through the air and slammed into Zan, who was standing behind him. Zan’s head merely whirred as it moved to examine the small dent in his armour. Ash hesitated, unable to comprehend why Zan hadn’t gone down. Musashi charged toward him, taking advantage of his moment of confusion, and layed into him with a series of powerful ninjitsu punches, hitting the face, chest, and face again… Ash grunted, and lashed out at Musashi with a backhander, catching him squarely across the jaw. Musashi hissed and stumbled back- and then Ash was gone, out the door they’d came through and down the picture-frame hallway… “Jesus, he’s fast!” Axel cursed. “Come on, after him!” One by one they piled through the door and ran in the direction Ash had gone, back down the hallway and into the main room of the club. Once again their eyes and ears were assailed by the atmosphere of the place. Ash was running across the main floor, jumping over beds and oblivious bystanders in a bid to reach the exit quickly. “He’s trying to get away!” Blaze screamed.

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They gave chase, but had to duck for cover when Ash turned and started firing off rounds blindly into the crowd. People started screaming. A woman bystander went down. Ash emptied his clip, then tossed the gun in their direction as he fled down the corridor that led to the main entrance of the building. Blaze’s aura flowed heavily within her as she ran, bumping into people. The club was in full-fledged panic now. People had been shot, possibly even killed. She could hear screams and shouts, and it looked like people were fighting now, brandishing knives, bats and other weapons, but there were so many people in here it was hard to tell exactly what was going on. We have to reach the exit… we can’t let him escape… Eventually, they managed to worm their way through the crowd to the other side. Blaze emerged first, heading straight down the corridor without waiting for the others. Axel, Adam, Skate, Zan and Musashi were close behind her, and before long they burst through the front door into the moonlit night air. Immediately their ears were assailed with the horrendous thumping sound of helicopter blades, and fierce dust and wind blew into their faces. The sight that greeted them filled them with absolute horror. Hovering but fifteen feet in the air above them, a sleek black helicopter was inscribed with an all-too familiar logo:

Blaze opened her mouth to gasp, but no sound came out. Ash was climbing into the helicopter, and another figure was helping him aboard. One that somehow seemed familiar… “No!” Skate cried. Axel was squinting his eyes, trying to make out the mysterious figure helping Ash into the craft. “Who is that?” he shouted. Once Ash was safely aboard the helicopter, the blurry figure turned and looked down at them, grinning evilly. “No!” Blaze screamed, recognising the figure now. “That’s impossible!” Axel shouted. “He’s dead! He’s been dead for three years!” Adam’s mouth was wide open. “He… he looks so… young…” The man turned and retook his seat, then the Syndicate chopper lifted and pulled away, moving at considerable speed. “How?!” Blaze screamed, her mind filling with a thousand questions. Suddenly, the world seemed like an even more dangerous and strange place than ever before… How could it possibly be…? Aboard the Syndicate helicopter, Leon Shiva smiled.

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24 The Council of Nine

The meeting room was a study in quiet but unpretentious elegance, located in an undersea facility at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. Nine figures sat at a long, stately oak table in the middle of the room, and at the head of the table, seated in a finely-decorated throne-like chair, was the one they called ‘Lord Socharis’. Ash leaned forward in his chair, wiping sweat from his brow. “I’m very lucky that Mr. Shiva was in the area. They were going to kill me unless I talked!” The tea drinker took a sip of his hot beverage and placed the cup down gently on its saucer, licking his lips, his eyebrows raised. Then he placed the drink down on the table and folded his arms. “I have to admit,” he said, “this is most unfortunate.” Shiva nodded. “Firestorm has busted up both Sauros and now Ash’s operations within the course of two weeks. They are now looking for us with redoubled effort.” All eyes on the table turned to Socharis, who was nodding to himself thoughtfully. “We knew this day would come,” he said, his voice dark and sinister. “It was only a matter of time before Firestorm picked up on our existence.” “What are we going to do now, my Lord?” asked Rudra, who sat beside Shiva. “We cannot allow them to interfere with Operation Shadow Hand, especially now, when it is so close to fruition.” Socharis took a deep breath. “They’re not stupid, and with Blaze Fielding’s homo superior powers, they’re no doubt tracking us already. I suggest we lay a trap for them…” Dr. Dahm, sitting across from Rudra, smiled. “What do you suggest, sir?” he asked, his eye muscles twitching on one side. “We will lure them to the Munitions Facility on Second Base,” Socharis told him. “There I will await them personally… I have waited a long time for the chance to finally confront my old enemies.” Dr. Dahm grinned. “An excellent idea, sir. We can also field-test the Munitions Facility’s advanced sentry robots, Molecule and Particle.” Socharis nodded. “Indeed, Henry. I want you to make the arrangements and prepare my jetship. Rudra, you will accompany us.” Rudra bowed slightly. “Yes, my Lord.” “What would you have me do, Lord Socharis?” That was Shiva. “This incident with Firestorm is forcing me to accelerate my plans,” Socharis boomed. “Luckily, Henry has completed his work on phase three of Project Y. I want you to gather the Battlegroup to the base on the Himalayan Mountains. There it will stay, until called for.” Shiva frowned. “What about Firestorm? I… I would like the chance to be there when you confront them…” “It is of no concern to you, Leon. Soon Firestorm will be crushed by my hand, and Blaze Fielding will be one of us. They stand no chance against my almighty power!”

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Shiva nodded. “Your work here is finished my friend. Take the Battlegroup and await my orders.” “Yes, Master.” Shiva bowed. “It’s all coming together now,” Dahm said excitedly. “Just as you planned. This will be it… our… your crowning moment!” Socharis grinned evilly. “Yes. In a matter of days, Operation Shadow Hand will reach its climax, and the Grand Battle of Doomsday will begin!”

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25 Pacific Island

They came in very low off the sea, crossing the coast and cruising just above the jungle. The lush greenery below looked impenetrable, but they could occasionally glimpse the odd small clearing. There was no sign of life. “Turn ten degrees south and hold bearing one-eight-four.” Blaze had navigated all the way and brought them in right on track, thanks to her powers of foresight. She was smart, plenty of initiative, a sixth sense that went beyond intuition, full of loyalty and ferocious courage, and Axel Stone loved her for it. She had changed so much in the time since he’d rescued her from Edgemont Hospital, changed into a powerful woman with extraordinary abilities that never ceased to amaze him; he was so pleased to be engaged to her. She was not just a very attractive face and body, but a woman he could trust. They trusted each other. They both knew that their lives depended on each other, and the other members of Firestorm. They also knew that, within the next few hours, they might die together. Now, as they skimmed the deep green foliage in one of Firestorm’s private jetships, their heads and eyes were in constant movement as they watched for something that did not seem to be there – even though Blaze insisted it was certainly very close to where they now flew. “How can you be sure that Ash is really here?” Skate asked. He was uncomfortable with the fact that they had no idea where they were going, trusting only Blaze’s genetic ‘powers’ to track Ash’s whereabouts. “I know he’s here,” Blaze told them from the co-pilot’s chair. “Let’s just say my evolved brain can sense things normal humans can’t.” “We have every confidence in you, Blaze,” Zan reassured her. “We’re going to need your abilities more than ever in the battle to come. With the re-emergence of Shiva, I can only fear the worst.” Axel, at the ship’s controls, caught a flicker of light some ten miles further on, and headed towards it. As they drew closer he was sure the light was that of the sun reflecting on water. Finally there, in the middle of the jungle, was a huge natural lake. “There’s nothing here. Absolutely nothing,” Skate said, shaking his head. “I’ll take her down very close to the lake,” Axel announced. “Keep your eyes peeled.” He extended the jetship’s flaps to allow himself to fly safely at a slower speed, just over the water; curving around in a complete circle, looking down on the wingtip which seemed to be only a foot or so above the smooth blue-green tint of the lake. Still nothing. Maybe Skate was right, Axel thought. He put on power, then retracted the flaps and climbed, crossing the lake diagonally, then, after gaining height, he pulled her round again and began another run. “Axel! Look out! Axel!” Blaze screamed. He saw it at exactly the same moment as she shouted. It came straight up from the deep water, breaking the placid surface with hardly a ripple, and his immediate

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reaction was that it was a largish fish. Now he pushed the yoke hard to the left, increasing engine power to maximum in a desperate attempt to avoid what he thought was probably a 140mm rocket, and where there was one of those, more could easily follow as they usually came in distinctive seventeen rocket packs. He had never yet heard of a launch of this type of rocket from underwater, but it would not be difficult, and the cruiser-class jetship was probably being targeted electronically by computer even as he banked right, turning the jetship onto an opposite track as the first rocket passed harmlessly to their left. “Air defences! We’ve got to get out of here!” Axel shouted, slewing the jetship in the other direction. Wrong! Another rocket came hurtling from the water as he turned. It did not explode, but sheared off over half the span of their port wing. The jetship was too low and everything seemed to happen in slow motion once more. Axel over-corrected and then went out of control. His pitch was everywhere. It was a matter of pure luck that, as he tried to correct again and bring the nose up, the belly of the jetship struck in the water. Hitting water in any aircraft was as good as slamming into a brick wall. They went from around seventy-eighty knots to zero in a fraction of a second. He felt the underside of the jetship being torn away – a metal-shearing, crunching, and horrific cracking noise; then the nose went down, sending up water. The shore line came up to meet them and what was left of the fuselage slid up onto the sand. Blaze had screamed when they were hit. Now, as they rose up the strip of sand, Axel threw one arm across her and his other forearm over his own face. The electrical circuits around them fried, and fire gushed all over the controls. Zan, impervious to most forms of chemical damage, managed to haul everyone from the wreckage before any of them were seriously wounded, and dragged them all to safety with his mechanical arms. Blaze moaned, then her eyelids fluttered. Zan spoke her name, urgently, several times, and finally she was awake. “Are you all right, Miss Fielding? “I think someone hit me with a hammer.” She raised herself from the ground and began to check that she could walk and move her limbs properly. Then the others started coming round. “I think we’re all in one piece.” Axel said, flexing his aching shoulders. “Or at least the pieces appear to be joined in the right places.” “Where exactly are we?” Skate moaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “This island is supposed to be deserted… where did those rockets come from?” “Underwater anti-air launchers,” Axel said, staring at the lake. “Very sophisticated.” “Those are some major league toys,” Adam agreed, dusting himself off. “Not something you get ahold of easily. Apparently we’ve stumbled upon somebody’s dirty secret… “ Musashi nodded, frowning, taking deep breaths of the jungle air. “It would seem that someone doesn’t want any visitors to this island, and has gone to extreme lengths to ensure there isn’t…” Blaze smirked. “Well, we got through their air defences, whoever they are. Maybe we should get moving. Whoever is behind all this is probably watching us.” Adam nodded. “Good idea. I have a real bad feeling about this place.”

***

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Far above the lake, in a hidden mountain complex, Rudra sat in front of a bank of monitors, her eyes riveted to one of the screens, her hands obsessively playing with a pen. This facility was built in three great tiers, walkways running around each section, screens and electronics everywhere. The monitor in front of Rudra was reeling off numbers, marked as ‘ACTIVATION MACROS’. The figures were large and incomprehensible. Billions of final checks were being done on the Syndicate’s Mk V advanced Sentry Bot prototypes, Molecule and Particle. “Going well, eh?” Dr. Dahm stood behind her. “All systems check out. Firestorm won’t know what hit them.” “They will not stand a chance against these Mark Fives, my child… Prepare them for combat.” Rudra pressed buttons. Something flashed. “A message from Leon!” she announced excitedly. “The Battlegroup has reached the Himalayas! He awaits us there and looks forward to hearing news of Firestorm.” Dahm smiled. “The time approaches. When will the central guidance satellite come into range?” “Twelve hours.” Dahm’s eye twitched, slightly nervous. “Even if these Mark Fives fail to stop Firestorm, they will certainly fall by the hand of Lord Socharis, who can never die. He is a true God. Operation Shadow Hand cannot fail.” Rudra smirked and shook her head. “You sound like one of those Union Lizard nuts, Henry. Quit with the ‘holy’ talk. We both know who he really is. You’re being overconfident.” Dahm smiled. He took a step closer to her and lent to whisper in her ear. “Who he was, Rudra, who he was. He is so much more than that now, he is possessed of powers we have only just begun to understand. He is much more than human now. I’ve seen what he can do. He truly is the most powerful man in the universe, as he has claimed. You would do well to remember that, young lady.” Rudra raised her eyebrows. She didn’t smile.

***

Looking up from the jungle floor, Axel fingered the binoculars and saw the huge Munitions Plant on the side of the mountain, some five hundred feet above them. “Bingo,” Axel muttered. “This place reeks of the Syndicate.” Zan nodded. “Yes. I know where we are now. This is Second Base, the Syndicate’s old munitions facility. It was deserted years ago.” Blaze licked her lips and swallowed. “Well, it’s now un-deserted, as I’m sensing multiple sentient beings inside that place… and… I am sensing a … a …” she staggered. “Blaze? What is it?” Axel asked, placing an arm around her. Her head jolted up. “A… darkness, like nothing I’ve sensed before. It’s so strong. It feels…” The first thing she thought of was her nightmare about the Black

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Dragon. “I have a feeling Socharis himself is here. We must tread carefully. Something is very wrong. We could be walking into a trap.” Axel nodded. “Stay frosty, people. We’re going in.”

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26 Molecule and Particle

The only way up the side of the mountain, as far as they could tell, was via a large automated cargo elevator, apparently used to lift heavy imported shipping crates and equipment to the mountainside base from the jungle floor. A dirt track ran from the elevator’s base, probably leading to some dockyard at the island’s northernmost coastline. The rectangular, mechanical elevator platform was several dozen feet in diameter, strewn with empty cargo boxes and oil drums containing “hazardous materials”, and it now gently lowered to the ground, completing one automated cycle. Nobody was around. Axel led the team through the long grass at the mountain’s base, trying to stay out of sight, intending to hitch a ride on the platform when it begun its journey to the top again. “Keep your eyes peeled,” Axel instructed, looking over his shoulder. “This place is bound to be guarded.” Blaze nodded, close behind him. “It’s a fair bet,” she muttered. “I’m sensing great danger here. Great danger.” Skate shivered. They passed through an enclosure of trees, then stepped up onto the elevator platform. Axel craned his neck vertically to take a look at where they were headed. From this angle, he saw that they would be entering the largest section of the base above, through a cargo bay that yawned open invitingly. It was too dark to see inside. “We should use these empty crates as cover,” Musashi suggested. The crates were large, easily twice the height of Zan, who was the tallest amongst them; they would provide adequate protection should anybody above decide to open fire upon them. Blaze nodded, and they silently took positions behind two of the largest crates. Moments later, there was a groan of metal, and the elevator began its long, slow journey upward, beginning another automated cycle. Blaze took deep breaths, trying to steady herself, as the tops of the surrounding trees vanished beneath them, leaving only blue sky and the rocky mountainside to their left. The elevator’s hydraulic motor made an infernal trumpeting sound as it hoisted them upwards, and the platform rumbled beneath their feet. Clearly it hadn’t been designed for human passengers, but it was the only way they were going to infiltrate this base unseen. Assuming they don’t already know we’re coming, Axel thought absently. Which I doubt… Adam swallowed dryly, watching as the ground below them and the distant horizon gradually merged into one. They were three hundred feet up now, with another two hundred or so to go… “Look out!” Musashi hissed suddenly. Adam froze.

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Bullets sprayed over the tops of the crates and down on the platform surface, making a horrendous clanging sound. Musashi had leapt into a roll and managed to knock Adam over onto his side just before he’d been riddled with machinegun fire. “Fuck!” Blaze shouted. Axel reached for his own machinegun, slung over one shoulder, silently thanking God that the weapon had survived the plane crash. He scanned the area above them, but couldn’t see where the shots were coming from… Another hail of bullets rip-roared across the platform, almost catching Skate as he strafed side to side in a blundering effort to avoid them. He blew air out of his lungs and flipped behind a different crate, cursing out loud. “Where is it coming from?” Adam shouted, ducking for cover. Axel frowned. “I’m not sure… Zan?” Zan’s head cocked to one side. “My sensors indicate one life form in the vicinity. Fifty feet above. I am detecting an enclave in the mountainside.” He pointed. Axel nodded. He wasted no time, aiming his machinegun in the general direction Zan was pointing and squeezed the trigger, letting off a dozen or so rounds. Then, in a blur of motion, they saw the lone attacker fall from behind some exotic foliage, twisting in mid-air, landing on the platform like a skilled acrobat. The mean-looking, orange-haired muscle man barely had time to steady himself on the rumbling platform, as Musashi unsheathed his katana and leapt towards him at lightning speed, going into a wide swing. The man dodged the attack and raised his machinegun, but Musashi was way too fast. As soon as he came out of the wide swing, he immediately initiated a stabbing reversal move, catching the goon straight through his lower back, skewering major organs. The man spluttered blood, then grinned red, lifting the machinegun towards Blaze with one shaking hand. “Tiger does not fail…” he blurted. Blaze tensed, ready to dodge, but the man’s eyes went up, and he collapsed lifelessly to the floor. Musashi sucked air in through his nostrils, then came out of his finishing stance and re-sheathed his weapon. “Pathetic,” he uttered. Axel kicked the dead man’s weapon aside, and rolled him over so that he could get a look at his face. “I see the Syndicate’s choice of bizarre henchmen remains consistent. I wonder where they got this guy from.” “Look,” Adam said then, pointing directly upward. “We’re almost at the top.” A large shadow began to fall around them, and the elevator platform lifted into the cargo bay, reaching the very top of its climb. They were in complete darkness for a couple of moments, the only light coming from the opening below, and as the elevator reached its summit, a series of automatic lights blinked on, illuminating the facility around them. The cargo bay was absolutely huge. “Strange,” Musashi observed casually. “Such a large facility, yet no cargo…” Axel brought up his weapon, his senses on high alert. “Anybody hear that?” he whispered. They listened. Something very bad was coming. Something big.

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***

The sound was a booming, rhythmic clomp, like metal-on-metal, a kind of clanging thump that made her blood run cold. Whatever it was, it was getting closer. Blaze surveyed her surroundings, her aura flaring wildly, unsure of what to do. Her heightened senses told her that danger was near, that whatever was coming, was coming for them. Something not alive… A huge metallic door, 30 feet tall, dominated the interior wall of the 600-feet long cargo bay. It was the only door as far as she could see. At first glance, the chamber looked more like some kind of aircraft hanger than a cargo bay, and as Blaze stared at the huge door, the horrifying realisation suddenly dawned on her that the door had been designed for whatever was coming, to accommodate it’s size… it’s sheer size! Oh, my God… The thumping metal noise stopped, and there was a moment of tense silence. Then a hiss of steam venting, and the automatic door began to lift upward. There, cloaked in billowing steam, stood two very large bipedal robots, built from some titanium alloy, their eyes a dull yellow. Their ‘arms’ were shaped like giant mace, covered with vicious spikes. They were clearly some kind of advanced defence sentry. “Intruders sighted,” one of them sounded. Axel opened fire. His rounds found their mark on the first robot, but had absolutely no effect. The machine turned its insect-like head to look at him as he emptied his magazine, then its yellow eyes suddenly lit up, and there was a charging sound. Axel fumbled to replace his empty magazine, dreading an overload of some sort. In a flash, a white-blue laser beam zapped from the thing’s right eye, straight towards Axel. The short beam caught him straight in the chest, knocking him back with immense force. He fell to the ground without making any sound. “Axel!” Blaze cried. Both machines began to move now, crouching on their hydraulic ‘legs’ and springing around the chamber like jumping frogs, the impact of their ten-ton feet causing the hideous thumping sound they’d heard before. That infernal sound… “Molecule and Particle!” Zan hissed. “What are they?!” Skate roared. He leapt to safety as one of the machines swung its spiky-ball ‘arm’, trying to smash him with it. “A research project that I pioneered!” Zan told him. “But the specifications have been altered drastically from my original plans…Dr. Dahm has been messing with my work!” Blaze helped Axel to his feet, who insisted it was only a flesh wound, then they ran in the direction of the door as one robot jumped toward them, crashing down like an insane mechanical grasshopper. Blaze turned, facing the thing head-on, deciding that without an effective weapon, there could be only one way of stopping these monsters before they killed someone… She had to act now.

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She had to face one of her biggest fears; use the most destructive powers she possessed… something she was afraid to do, since taking her power down such a dark and twisted path was addictive and dangerous… I must not fear… she thought. I will not fear. I will be fine. Her aura burned strongly, filling her every vein, every muscle and bone with intense energy. She began to feel like she was on fire. I will face my fear. Her eyes lit up with bright blue light, and energy, like lightning, began to crackle over her form. The fear will pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain… She began to summon all the power she could muster, intensely concentrating on the machines before her, which seemed to be moving in slow motion now. And then she was all around them, she was in them. I am everywhere. She closed her eyes, wanting the machines to die. So they did. There was a flashing blast as both robots spontaneously exploded, and her mind couldn’t quite register what happened next. She felt a concentrated release of energy from all over her body then fell to the ground, hitting her head hard. She heard Axel and the others shouting. A fire was burning. Axel was helping her to her feet, shouting at her to run. Then she lost consciousness, tumbling and painlessly. ***

“Blaze Fielding has destroyed the Mark Fives, my Lord,” Dahm muttered, entering the main audience chamber. The large, red-carpeted chamber overlooked the mountain and ocean beyond through balcony windows that stretched along the back wall. Socharis was oblivious to Dahm’s presence, meditating silently. Dahm cleared his throat, and the Dragon Lord opened his eyes to look at him. “Quite easily, might I add?” Dahm said, sweating. “Though it did take most of her strength away…” Socharis, sitting on his high throne, nodded. “Indeed she is powerful, as my visions have foreseen…” he said. “But my powers are far beyond hers, Henry. I will kill her, and have my final revenge. I can assure you of that.” Rudra, standing nearby, raised her head, arms folded. Dahm licked his lips. “I do believe so, my Lord. “ Socharis grinned evilly. “See to it that they find their way directly to me… it’s time to put an end to this charade, once and for all…”

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27

Face of the Dragon

When Blaze regained consciousness, she found that she was being carried over Dr. Zan’s right shoulder. The team was running down a carpeted hallway she didn’t recognise. She was disorientated and felt like shit. Groaning, she spoke softly, telling Zan that she was okay to walk. Zan stopped in his tracks, calling to the others that Blaze was awake, then hoisted her down onto the floor, where she carefully regained balance on her own two feet. “Blaze! Are you okay?” Axel asked, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving it a little squeeze. She nodded, taking deep breaths. “I think so. Axel, what happened? What’s going on?” Axel glanced at Adam, who swallowed dryly, then returned his gaze to her, taking a deep breath himself. “Well, we were kinda hoping you could tell us,” he said matter-of-factly. Blaze frowned. “What?” Axel licked his lips. “It was a bit of a blur, to tell you the truth. One moment, I was standing next to you, about to be confronted by one of those sentry robots, and then…” he trailed off. Blaze raised her eyebrows. “And then?” “You disappeared into thin air,” he told her. “There was a flash of light, like an almighty explosion, like a supernova, and the robots were gone. Destroyed. It… It was amazing. Like nothing I’ve seen before…” “On the contrary,” Joe Musashi chirped in. “We have seen similar activity before, from the imperfect clone known as the Twelfth One…” “She was able to shift through solid matter, turn into pure energy,” Skate said, remembering their encounter at the Philadelphia Cloning Facility. “But nothing like this from you,” Adam said. “What happened there?” Blaze opened her mouth to speak. “I…well…” She clamped her mouth shut, then opened it again, a serious look coming over her face. “It’s hard to explain. I… It was the first time I’ve allowed myself to be… consumed … by the power of my aura. Truly consumed by it… in a way that could take over… like an addictive substance, I guess. It’s not something I usually like to delve into, but it felt like the only way I could stop those things…” Axel nodded. In the years since Blaze had become a full-fledged homo superior, he had found it hard sometimes to understand the things she had to go through, the torments she had to face and endure. Without having the experience of the power himself, it was something that Blaze, and Blaze alone, could comprehend. He just had to accept that.

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“Well, as long as you’re okay,” he said, half-smiling. “The important thing is that you destroyed those robots… without you, those things would’ve killed us all for sure.” Zan nodded, his head whirring. “We’re now making our way to the top of the facility, and thus far, have encountered zero resistance from the Syndicate.” Blaze frowned. “No resistance? Are you kidding?” Zan shook his robotic head. “No. After the destruction of the robots, it’s as if we’re being invited in…” “Lured into a trap,” Musashi surmised. Axel nodded. “Set by Socharis himself.” Blaze exhaled heavily, and gazed down the hallway. No-one else was around. She nodded to herself. “Blaze, are you with us?” Adam asked, his eyebrows raised. “Yes, of course,” she told them. “This could be our only chance of confronting Socharis... It’s time we unveiled the Face of the Dragon…” The way to the elevator was clear. They ran.

***

The elevator took them straight to the top floor of the facility. An electronically-controlled door slid open ahead of them, unguarded and innocuous. Overhead, a plaque read ‘Main Audience Chamber’. Axel stepped forward, ready for anything. “This is it,” he muttered. “Be ready, guys.” Blaze swallowed dryly, feeling the familiar sensation of pre-combat anxiety. “Socharis is here,” she said. “I can feel him.” Her aura was going into overload; she could sense some kind of great evil emanating from the room ahead of them, an evil that seemed to drill into her very soul… They filed through the door one-by-one, into a deep-red carpeted room, their senses on high alert. When they were all through, the door slammed shut behind them, locking itself automatically. The chamber was large, with windows overlooking the view of the mountain and ocean beyond lining the far wall. Blaze gasped. In a speechless instant, her worst nightmares had suddenly come true… No! It can’t be… There, sitting in a throne-like chair, was a man they all recognised only too well… “Welcome, Firestorm,” Socharis said, his voice deep and sinister. “I’ve been looking forward to this… reunion… for some time…” he cackled, the sound echoing around the chamber like the laugh of some hellish demon. Standing to Socharis’ left was Dr. Henry Dahm, the Project Y mastermind they’d sent to Arkham Asylum four years earlier, and on his right, stood a young dark-haired woman they didn’t recognise… Blaze felt herself going faint. Her aura ebbed and flowed, fluctuating, making her feel extremely sick. She staggered, almost falling to her knees. “It…it can’t be…”

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She coughed and spluttered, then in a horrifying instant she realised she was coughing up blood. “You!” Axel hissed, taking a step back. “You’re dead! You’re more than dead! This is impossible! You’ve been dead for years!” Socharis grinned, clearly pleased at the discomfort his very presence was having on his guests. “I can assure you, Axel Stone, that I am very real. And I am very much alive.” He laughed again. “The Dragon Lord cannot be killed,” Dahm said gleefully. “He has returned from beyond the grave, as he promised he would, to finish the great work he started. The Dragon Lord is immortal…” Blaze was shaking, almost feverish. It couldn’t be real! She coughed again, almost vomiting. Mr. X! Socharis was Mr. fucking X! The man responsible for killing her family! The man responsible for all those years of silence and darkness… the man who she’d killed twice over already! She stood up straight, eyes wide, screaming. “Mr. X!” she hissed. Then she frowned. “But how? You died… You look so … different…” The man smirked. He was the Mr. X they knew, but somehow, he looked twenty years younger. “Yes. For a while, I was dead. I prefer the name ‘Socharis’ now. That is the name I have given this new body…” Joe Musashi frowned, his hand resting on his katana. “Mr. X? What devilry is this?” Dr. Dahm grinned. “No devilry, you feudal simpleton. Only scientific genius, and the power of the Dragon Lord incarnate has brought the Master back to life, stronger and more powerful than ever!” “Enough of this!” Skate screamed. He was fuming with rage, wanting nothing more than to kill Mr. X once and for all. “You are responsible for the death of Max! I’ll kill you with my bare hands, you cunt!” Mr. X raised his eyebrows, his grin getting wider. Skate charged forward, controlled by the rage in his heart. I will avenge Max, he thought to himself. I must avenge Max! “Skate, no!” Adam cried. “Skate!” Axel shouted, reaching out to stop him. But Skate didn’t hear them. With fierce intensity and murderous hatred, he ploughed forwards toward Mr. X, getting ready to kill him. But Mr. X was too fast. He jumped up from his throne, pulling an antique Tommy gun from his green suit. He pushed the nose of the weapon forward, squeezing the trigger… The look on Skate’s face was one of absolute horror, as he realised his mistake… Ratatatatatatatat! Mr. X fired a dozen or so rounds, the bullets cutting Skate down in his tracks, piercing his flesh, puncturing his lungs and stomach in a horrific spray of deep red blood. Skate screamed, the sound turning into a liquid gurgle, and then went silent, slumped to the floor. Skate lay dead, covered in blood, his eyes staring sightlessly at his older brother, who could do nothing but watch in dismay as the life slipped out of him. “Noooooo!” Adam roared. Skate was dead…

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Another member of the team lost… “Pathetic moron,” X grinned, tossing the Tommy gun to one side then cracking his youthful knuckles together. “Good riddance, I say…” “Skate!” Blaze cried, tears flowing. “No! No! No! No!” Her aura flared up inside her, and she summoned a fireball, throwing it towards X. X laughed, making a gesture. The fireball slowed down then stopped, seeming to disperse into thin air. Blaze gasped. He has telekinetic powers! What is going on here? Joe Musashi drew his katana, and began charging towards X. Axel, Zan, Adam and Blaze all joined him in the charge, their voices a chorus of angry deathdefying roars. None of them understood exactly how Mr. X had returned, but the sudden death of Skate had spurred them all into a vengeful fury. Mr. X cackled, almost pleased that they were trying this. “You fools!” he laughed. He gestured with his right hand, and suddenly, all five of them found themselves suspended in midair, held in place by some invisible force. Axel kicked his legs, trying to ‘swim’ through the air, but he couldn’t move… Mr. X was keeping them locked in place. X stood there, his right arm launched forward in what looked like a Nazi salute, manipulating some telekinesis. He has powers like Blaze, Axel thought, desperately trying to think of some way they could get out of this dire situation… Blaze struggled, trying to summon enough power to break free of X’s grip, but somehow, her aura had been nullified, like Mr. X was cancelling out her powers with his own, preventing her from using them… “You are all completely helpless,” X told them. “You are all at my mercy…” Dr. Dahm, standing beside Rudra, was giggling, almost frothing at the mouth with anticipation. X looked at Blaze Fielding directly in the eyes, and smirked. “Now, before I kill you,” he told them, “I’ll put you out of your small-minded misery, and explain how this was possible… how you have failed, and how I will reign supreme!”

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28

Full Circle

“You were killed during the Project Y incident,” Axel said, floating in midair as he was. “You were a brain in a jar, and your Syndicate Stronghold was destroyed in a small atomic reaction. How could you possibly have come back to life?” Mr. X smiled, and turned his attention to the ex-cop. “You’re quite right, Axel,” he said. “I was a ‘brain in a jar’. And I was killed. But do you not think I made contingency plans, in the event that such a thing would happen?” Axel didn’t answer, his expression grim. Mr. X’s youthful eyes glimmered, and he began to pace around them slowly. “I have been planning Operation Shadow Hand since the very formation of the Syndicate, back in 1986 when I was but a lowly Senator working in the US Government.” He licked his lips. “This Operation, codenamed the ‘revolution’, has been developing over the course of more than thirty years. I was always well aware of my own shortcomings – the fact that I was only mortal, and the possibility that I might be killed before the revolution came to fruition always played on my mind. Indeed, this is why I began Project X in the first place, to produce a life-like android replica of myself that would take my place in public should any fool try to assassinate me.” Blaze, lost in her own thoughts, sighed a half-laugh. “Yeah. You had us fooled for some time. We thought we’d killed you when I blasted a hole through Robot X’s brain. Until you kidnapped Adam and lured us to your robot factory…” Mr. X nodded. “The situation was getting way out of hand. Your ‘efforts’ to expose my Syndicate required drastic measures to contain. Unfortunately, I could not predict what happened next.” “We destroyed your base, your robots, and you…” Adam said, his teeth barred. Mr. X grimaced. “When I lost my original body, it was only thanks to the efforts of Henry here,” he gestured toward Dr. Dahm, “that I survived. Albeit as a ‘brain in a jar’, as you so eloquently put it.” “It was a touch more complicated than that…” Dahm sneered. “Indeed,” X said. “The point is, it wasn’t something I’d planned. And all the while I was in that weak and vulnerable form, the chances of my being killed were only greater, no matter how much security I could place around the desert facility to protect myself.” “You were using Robot Y as a new body…” Axel said, fishing for more information, stalling for time. X smiled. “Yes. Robot Y, the most advanced cybernetic-organic machine on the face of the planet, the pinnacle of Project Y research, was the perfect vessel to carry my consciousness until a new body could be found.”

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Dr. Dahm took a step forward, clearing his throat. “I actually based the idea on Gilbert Zan’s electromagnetic theory of consciousness that he’d developed during his time at RoboCy.” Zan cocked his head. “My theory?” He frowned, then suddenly his eyes widened. “I…I remember! I theorised that consciousness itself was in fact a fifth state of matter. The first four states being solid, liquid, gas and plasma. I surmised that like these other ‘states’, consciousness was tangible and could be modified, transferred to other locations by altering frequency at the level of proton and electron …” Dahm nodded. “You were right, Gilbert. More right than you ever imagined. Like your father Victor, you possess great talent in many scientific fields. Such a pity that you had to ally yourself with these interfering fools!” Blaze frowned. “But Robot Y was destroyed…” X chuckled. “Yes it was. But like I said earlier, I already had a contingency plan to fall back on, should the ‘Robot Y prototype’ not live up to expectations. When you’re planning a revolution, you have to be prepared for every eventuality. That is why I commissioned ‘Project homo universalis.’, the last of the Shadow Hand Projects.” “Shadow Hand Projects?” Adam asked. “What exactly are you talking about?” “The Shadow Hand Projects were a series of scientific ventures that I pioneered after enlisting the help of Dr. Dahm in 1989. I placed my second-incommand, Leon Shiva, in charge of these Projects once they were up and running. The first of these Projects was homo superior, the genetic engineering of an army of superhuman warriors that would do my bidding after the Great Doomsday. Unfortunately, thanks to you, young Blaze here, the First One, is all that remains of that failed venture.” Blaze Fielding swallowed dryly. “Project X soon followed,” X continued. “But again, you interfered. And then, Project Y followed that.” “Which we destroyed also,” Axel boasted, “when Robot Y and your desert facility was blown up by the military…” Mr. X raised his eyebrows, an evil glimmer coming into his eyes. “Don’t be so sure of that Axel. The destruction of that facility, and of the prototype, was a setback, nothing more. I can assure you of that. Now, Phase three of Project Y has already been completed, and is almost ready to be unleashed on the world…” “Project Y is a complete success, if anything,” Dahm beamed. “Wait a minute,” Zan called. “You said phase three ? But I thought that phase two, the Robot Y exoskeleton, was the pinnacle of Project Y research?” Dahm opened his mouth to answer, but Mr. X raised a hand to silence him. “Let’s not get too far off subject, Henry,” X commanded. “We wouldn’t want to explain all our plans away now, would we? I was about to tell them of the final Shadow Hand Project, homo universalis…” Blaze took a deep breath, unsure of what to expect here. Rudra stepped forward, and Mr. X waved his arm to introduce her. “This is Rudra, formerly my top assassin. For the past four years she has been in charge of Project homo universalis. I trusted her with bringing me back to life, through the Project, should I be killed whilst in that weak state you refer to as the ‘brain in the jar’.” “How?” Blaze insisted. “Homo universalis was a branch of research inspired by the failed homo superior Project,” X told her. “The basic idea was to use cloning technology to bring

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me back, coupled with the ‘consciousness transference’ we’d developed alongside Project Y, thanks to Zan’s original theory.” Rudra nodded. “We used a backup copy of Mr. X’s consciousness, stored in a pattern buffer during the two years it took to develop our first homo universalis foetus.” “Hang on a second,” Adam said, confused. “You mean, while we were hunting down the New Syndicate under the control of Shiva… you were secretly working to restore Mr. X to life?” Rudra smiled. “You are quite correct, Mr. Hunter.” “Speaking of Shiva,” Axel said, “I’m assuming you’ve cloned him back too, seeing as we saw him not too long ago...” X licked his lips, exhaling his breath. “Yes. Although not part of the original plan, Shiva has been restored to life also. Rudra?” Rudra nodded. “After the deaths of both Mr. X and Shiva, control of what remained of the Syndicate fell to me. I saw fit to resurrect Leon Shiva, as I… erm… believed his return would rally more of the warring factions back to our cause…” Blaze squinted her eyes, staring at Rudra carefully. Somehow, she could sense that the woman wasn’t being completely honest… she was lying. “Shiva, like myself, is now a homo universalis being,” X said. “We are the only members of our species, the most advanced life form on the face of the planet. Far in advance to homo superior, although our scientists Onihime and Yasha were able to learn much from that failed experiment. We are the pinnacle of human evolution. We are as Gods.” Blaze swallowed in the depths of her throat. Mr. X was starting to get deeply involved with what he was saying, and, slowly but surely, he was starting to lose concentration on what he was doing. She was beginning to feel the familiar sensation of her aura flowing inside her. Within moments, she would be able to break free of X’s hold. “I now have a supply of clones,” X continued, his grin getting wider, “which I will use to transfer my consciousness between after deaths, making me effectively immortal. If this body is killed, I will simply resurrect in another. So you see, I am a God. I can never die…” “What about Shiva? Does he have a supply of clones, too?” Adam asked. X shook his head. “No. He is simply a homo universalis clone. He will live, and then he will die. End of story. It’s why he appears so much younger in his years than I do. My personal use of multiple clones, and the transference of my consciousness between them, causes advanced cellular degeneration in each body I take, which means I age quicker… I must take a new body every six months or so.” “Why should this make you a God?” Musashi probed, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not our mortality that defines us. It’s part of the truth of our existence. Surely you are just a man running from the inevitable.” “I am Socharis!” X boomed, becoming angry. “I am a true God… the reincarnation of my ancient Egyptian counterpart. Like Seker, I deify the separation of mind from life force after death…” Axel clenched his jaw, sweat beading on his forehead. Mr. X was completely insane, now more than he’d ever been before… “I have hundreds of clone bodies,” X said, hissing. “I will live forever by transferring my consciousness between them. And as the God of the New Age I will usher in, I will create a Dark Empire on Earth, a utopian society where the entire world serves me and maintains my temples, for all time. So you see, Firestorm, you

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have completely failed. We have come full circle, and now, I am the Master! Nothing can stop me!” “Hallowed is the Dragon Lord,” Dahm muttered fervently. “May his Will be done…” By now, Blaze was pretty sure X had lost concentration on nullifying her powers. He was more concerned with his bizarre spiritual rant, and if she was going to act, it had to be soon, real soon… Sweat beaded on her forehead… X’s eyes suddenly appeared to bulge out of their sockets. “Now, the time for talking is over! I have a world to reclaim!” He moved his arm, intending to kill them there and then. Blaze screamed, drawing on every ounce of power she could muster, and her aura finally broke free: there was an enormous flash of light, and the five remaining members of Firestorm fell to the ground, released from X’s grasp. Blaze threw her arms forward and launched a fireball directly at X’s chest. It struck him with full force, and he flew back, crashing over his throne-like chair. “Scatter!” Axel yelled. X recovered quickly, clawing his way to his feet, then ripped off his suit jacket and the white shirt beneath, revealing his rippling chest muscles. He roared like a man gone insane, then charged forward. The fight had begun.

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29

Flesh and Blood

Mr. X dashed forward, and slammed his right fist into Blaze Fielding’s gut. She gasped and flew back, severely winded by the power of his strike. She landed in a heap against the opposite wall, groaning to herself. “Fuck!” she hissed, feeling sick and dizzy at the same time. That was some punch… Axel wasted no time, running towards X, beginning to deliver a barrage of punches. X blocked, using his powerful arms to defend against every hit. It was as if he could predict Axel’s every move… X grunted, throwing a hand forward, and a sudden crash of invisible energy sent Axel hurling backwards, stunned by the shockwave. “I have waited a long time for this moment,” X grinned, toying with them. “Come on, show me what you’ve got!” Adam roared, and jumped toward X, bringing out his leg in a flying kick. X laughed, grabbing the leg as it neared him with lightning-fast reflexes, then swung Adam around in midair and hurled him across the room. Adam landed with a crack, rolling to a stop just where the dead body of Skate lay, bullet-riddled, covered in blood. Adam jerked backward, horrified at the sight of his motionless, dead brother. Skate… Skate stared back, mouth open, his expression blank. Adam swallowed, his breathing coming in short, ragged gasps. His younger brother had been killed in one of the most disgusting, dishonourable ways imaginable, and there was nothing he could do to change it now… “Nooooo!” Adam screamed, his emotions racing. He flipped toward X, came out of a roll and brought his fist thundering upward with amazing speed, managing to crack X on the jaw. X stumbled back, cursing, then leapt into the air, delivering a powerful spinning kick that caught Adam across his ribs. Adam fell back, eyes closed, tears streaming, hissing with pain. As X turned to regard the others, Zan glided forward on his wheeled, mechanical feet, and threw forward his left arm, sending powerful currents of electricity charging out. “Powerup!” he roared. The blast caught X head on. The man gritted his teeth and wailed for a moment as the electric current thundered through his body, then when it was over, instead of falling down, he crouched, flipping Zan onto his back with a low roundhouse kick that caught the android off guard. Within seconds, Joe Musashi was upon him, delivering punches, kicks and jabs, before drawing his katana, swinging it back – X jumped backward as Musashi swung the sword, and then the air around him seemed to instantly grow hot and humid, a vacuum forming. Musashi frowned,

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panicking, and looked up at X, realising that he was charging some kind of inner aura… X cackled, a dark purple flame beginning to dance over his right hand. The flame billowed and grew, spinning around X’s arm. Blaze’s eyes widened. He has an aura! Then she realised, with shock horror, that it was the dark and sinister evil she’d been sensing on their way into the facility… X pulled both his hands into his chest, then threw them downwards. A sparking, violent purple fireball materialised on the floor, then as X threw his arms forward, it blasted its way across the floor towards Musashi. Musashi hissed, attempting to dodge, but he was too slow. The fireball crashed into him, sending bizarre, violent forks of purple electrical energy raking across his entire body. Musashi screamed, convulsing on the ground, reduced to a gibbering wreck. Zan, standing nearby, spread both his arms out to the side, and allowed his android form to overload with electricity. “Charge!” he roared. But X flipped out of the way, just as the energy current expanded around Zan’s body. X threw another fireball forward, and it blasted into Zan, knocking him over, causing violent damage to his systems. Zan collapsed, unable to move. Axel, now on his feet, used the moment of distraction to get close to X, then brought up his fist in a powerful uppercut, catching X straight across the face. “Grand Upper!” The blow split the skin on X’s cheek, spilling blood. X cursed, clutching his face, then backed off a bit. “You have drawn my blood!” X roared. “This is an outrage!” Axel sneered, his heart racing. “It just goes to show… you’re not invincible! You’re flesh and blood, just like the rest of us!” Standing by the window, watching the fight unfold, Rudra raised her eyebrows. “I have a question,” Blaze said. “What exactly does it feel like, being dead?” X scowled. “It would be impossible to describe to you without a common frame of reference.” Blaze frowned. “You mean I have to die to discuss your insights on death?” “Yes,” X grinned. “Something I will gladly help you with…” Blaze screamed as he started bolting towards her. She summoned a blue fireball, then hurled it towards him. But he saw the move coming, and hurled forth a purple fireball of his own. The two fireballs clashed together midway, cancelling each other out. X grinned, snorting, jumping back, throwing another fireball towards her. Blaze pushed her palms out, summoning her own telekinetic power. X’s fireball slowed, then stopped, hovering in the air like a giant purple firefly. “Right back at you!” she shouted, then sent the thing hurling back toward X in the direction it had come. X’s eyes lowered, and he caught the fireball with his own powers before it reached him. From both sides of the room, Blaze and Mr. X had entered a clash of telekinetic force, and between them, the purple fireball seemed confused about which direction to head in as the invisible forces tore against each other. Axel took advantage, hurling himself towards X in a flying kick. Adam came at him from the other side with a full-on punch. Both attacks found their mark.

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X grunted, falling to the ground. Then Axel and Adam both leapt away just in time, as Blaze sent the contested fireball roaring into X’s face. Blaze began to summon another fireball of her own. “Let’s finish this,” she muttered. “My Lord!” Dahm shouted. “Do something!” “Shhh!” Rudra hissed. “If he’s as powerful as he claims he is…” Mr. X roared, the sound echoing around the chamber, sending his arms flying upward in a violent gesture. An invisible shockwave suddenly knocked Blaze, Axel and Adam all to the floor. X got to his feet, then summoned a fireball and threw it across the floor, sending purple sparks jolting across their bodies. Fuming with rage, X stood over them, gritting his teeth. “Your efforts to defeat me will get you nowhere,” he told them. “And even if you succeeded, I would simply resurrect in one of my clones…” “We’ll find your clones!” Adam spat, gritting his teeth through pain. “We’ll destroy them!” X laughed. “You and whose army? Face it, Hunter. I’ve already killed your stupid brother. Zan and Musashi are both incapacitated, laying there like punks. And you are about to die.” From outside, the sound of multiple aircraft crossing the ocean could suddenly be heard. X, however, didn’t notice the sound, too obsessed with what he was doing. “Wrong,” Adam told him. “It’s you who are about to die, along with these two cronies of yours, and anyone else you have hiding on this island.” He pointed to Dahm and Rudra. X frowned, then waved a hand, cutting off the effects of his fireball attack. He gave Adam, Axel and Blaze a moment to recover, then asked curiously, “What are you talking about?” Adam grinned, getting to his feet. “Well, you didn’t think we’d come to this island alone, did you?” Axel got up, helping Blaze to her feet. “That’s right,” he said. “You didn’t think we’d be that stupid, surely? Risk our lives with no insurance? Especially where the infamous Syndicate is concerned…” Dahm licked his lips, suddenly noticing the sound of distant rotor blades chopping the air. “What have you done?” He took one glance out of the window, looking out at the ocean, and gasped with fright. “No! No! Nooooo!” Outside, the air was filled with hundreds of Apache attack helicopters and fighter jets, racing toward the island at full speed. “It’s the military!” Rudra said, raising an eyebrow. X screwed his face up. “Not again!” “That’s right,” Blaze smiled. “New World Order Air Force, FBI, marines, MI7, Navy SEALs… you name ‘em, we brought ‘em…” X took a quick glance out the window, saw the forces approaching, then turned his head back and gave Blaze a thunderous, murderous look. “We have to get out of here!” Dahm insisted. “Sir – My lord! Please! There’s not much time…” “It’s over,” Axel grinned. “Give yourself up. Now.” “Never!” X roared. He gestured, throwing Axel, Blaze and Adam back across the room with immense force, smashing them against a wall. “We should leave,” Rudra advised him, looking out the window. “Right now. There’s no time for this fighting. Paratroopers are already landing. We have to go...”

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X took a deep breath, then nodded hesitantly. “Very well, Rudra. We’ll go. Have Ash power up the jetship. And tell him we’ll need to use the cloaking device, if we’re to escape unseen…” “Yes, sir,” she nodded, reaching for her pocket radio and barking the orders down a scrambled line. Taking one final glance at the fallen members of Firestorm, X harrumphed, and then stormed out of the room through the electronic door. “I would prefer to have finished them off,” X said, sounding pissed off. “But it will have to wait, I suppose. If they have the audacity to confront me again, they will not be so lucky a second time...” Dahm followed him through the door, nervously glancing to and from the window. Rudra, however, lingered for a moment, looking at the dead body of Skate and the wounded, defeated members of Firestorm, who were trying desperately to get to their feet to stop Mr. X escaping. The hint of a sympathetic, caring smile played on Rudra’s lips. “I’m so sorry…” she whispered. Then the smile was gone, and she stormed after her master.

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30 Somewhere in the Himalayas May 11th

“Tell me, Leon,” said X, “Back when I was a ‘brain in a jar’…why did you not betray me in my time of weakness?” The man leaned back in his chair, regarding Shiva across the heavy table. Shiva hid it well, but a flicker of anxiety showed in his young face. The question had caught him by surprise. They had, after all, been deep in a discussion about implementing the final stage of Operation Shadow Hand. Shiva had grown discontent with Mr. X’s leadership during those earlier days, that much was true. After losing his body and being used as the focus for Project Y experimentation, X had grown increasingly delusional, caring more about power and personal gain than the revolution itself. Shiva had planned to overthrow him and rule the Syndicate in his place, with the woman he loved, Electra, by his side. But Electra was dead, killed by Firestorm. Without her, Shiva had nothing, and all his hopes and dreams had been crushed. There was only the Master. His loyalty to Mr. X was now unquestionable, especially after being brought back to life as ‘homo universalis’. Why was he asking about betrayal? Shiva was unable to block out vivid memories of the fates of others who had betrayed X in the past. He quickly buried those thoughts and forced himself to consider the question. Shiva placed both hands on the table. His small lips tight above his chin, he took a moment to choose carefully how to answer. If his loyalty was in question, it was a serious matter. “Before the destruction of the Nevada Desert base,” Shiva began, “I had considered it, to be perfectly honest. But Master, you must believe, after I gained control of the New Syndicate, such thoughts escaped me. I allowed the homo universalis project to continue … I never again considered treason. I was amazed by the potential of the homo universalis program, and I feel fortunate that some of it has been shared with me, giving me a second chance at life…” Shiva paused, searching X’s face for a hint of where this was leading. The Master’s emotions were hidden, and his expression was unreadable. Shiva had known that face in many guises. Just now it was the face of a man in his late thirties. X had aged very little since the day, four months ago, when he had left his previous body and returned to life in another clone. But then, it was the heavy use of his power that led to accelerated aging, and X hadn’t needed to use it much recently. “And now?” X prompted him quietly. “And now...” Shiva felt a nervous dampness break out on his skin. “I am still your student, Master. Your Syndicate has only grown. No one alive knows more than you about the way of the revolution. And, with your determined research into new sources of power, it will not be long before your strength far surpasses mine. There are rewards for loyalty to the true powers in life, especially for loyalty during hard

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times.” Shiva tried to remain calm. X continued to screen his thoughts. Shiva began to wonder if someone else had been trying to turn the Master against him. X leaned aggressively towards Shiva. “And yet, if I were gone, you could use your homo universalis powers to dominate the world in my place. The Dark Empire would be yours. You can be stronger than I am. Why not destroy me and take my place?” Shiva decided to get to the bottom of this uncomfortable situation. Perfect frankness, although dangerous, was called for. “Master, I must assure you of my present and continued loyalty. I don’t covet your position, nor do I think I’m suited for it. If someone has been informing you to the contrary, I tell you it is a lie. To oppose you, especially now, would be folly. Here, you are secure in your Himalayan fortress. Four hundred X-Robots remain absolutely loyal to you. My own powers, formidable though they are, couldn’t preserve my life against them. You control thousands of Phase Three units as well. Again, I’d dismiss my chances of survival against so many of those giants. Then there are the sentry robots, the other Syndicate bosses, and all your technology. Of what use would your destruction be, if I didn’t live to reap the rewards? And then there is the plain fact that if I tried to kill you right now, and succeeded, I still would have failed. You would transfer to a clone, and secure in the clone labs, you could decree my death at the hands of your Orders.” Shiva waited, uneasy, for the Master to reply. “Very good, Leon. I appreciate honesty. And I don’t believe you would betray me.” Shiva felt the tension drain from him. “However,” X continued, frowning, “I have felt something lately. A sense of danger. Something is going to happen that could mire our plans.” X looked away. “Master,” said Shiva, confident once more, “I haven’t heard of any danger, but your feelings must not be ignored. If we remain alert, we can catch any threats before they begin.” “Firestorm, and the New World Order, have no doubt doubled their resolve in looking for us,” X said. “Especially now Shadow Hand is so close to a final reality.” Shiva took a deep breath, and smiled. “Even if they find us here,” he said, “it will make little difference. Not when we unleash the Phase Three Battlegroup across the entire planet! The military forces of the whole world will be crushed in one day!” X nodded. Decided. “You’re right, Shiva. There’s probably nothing to worry about. I think it’s about time we set our final plans into motion. The satellite control system, is it ready for total planetary deployment?” Shiva smiled. “Yes, sir.” “Then signal Dr. Dahm’s laboratory to prepare for my arrival,” X told him, getting to his feet. “I would like to handle this personally.”

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31

Between Two Fires

Adam Hunter, using both hands to balance a big tray of hot cafeteria food, used his boot to reach out and turn the doorknob. It took him a couple of tries to get it open. Inside, Verdi’s Requiem was screaming through an audio system at full volume. Without spilling a drop, he pushed backward into the room. But when the door closed, he knew he was in trouble. The lights were out, and the room was pitch-black inside. Over the last five days, Adam’s partner in the FBI, Robert Murphy, had managed to make this vast office just as cluttered and messy as his apartment in D.C. had been. The more frustrated he got about not being able to find Mr. X’s secret hideout, the worse the room became. Adam, really concentrating now on not dropping the hot food, knew better than to try stumbling around in the chaos. “Murphy! Hey, Murphy, dinner! Turn on the lights, man.” The music went dead in mid-crescendo. A moment later, the lights clicked on. Murphy was sitting on an unpadded steel chair behind a utilitarian steel desk, holding a remote control in one hand. On the desk, his computer was in screen saver, generating a lava-lamp-like psychedelic pattern. “Good morning, Adam,” Murphy said. He looked exhausted. “It’s almost eight P.M.,” Adam growled. “Why don’t you clean this place up a little?” “That information is classified,” Murphy grinned coyly, little dimples showing on his cheeks. “Ah, give it a rest, Murphy.” Adam brushed away a pile of potato chip bags and candy bar wrappers, creating a space to set down the tray. “So how’s your search coming along?” Murphy tapped buttons on his computer keyboard. The screen saver fell away, revealing landsat images of a variety of different sites. “Well, I’m not having too much luck so far,” he said. “Searching the entire planet is taking a lot longer than I anticipated.” Adam nodded. “Mr. X is out there somewhere. We’ll find him eventually.” He looked at Murphy carefully, frowning. “Maybe you should get some sleep, pal. You look like shit. You must’ve been at this, what, thirty-six hours straight?” Murphy shook his head, hitting more buttons. “No can do, buddy. I have to find Mr. X as soon as possible. If I sleep, it’s only going to waste precious time.” “Maybe one of the other guys can relieve you for a while?” Adam suggested, his eyebrows raised. After Firestorm’s confrontation with X on the Pacific Island, a large team of FBI agents, marines, government scientists and other personnel had accompanied them back to Firestorm Headquarters, to join them in their search for Mr. X. “No,” Murphy said again bluntly. “I’m the only one who can operate this surveillance software. I designed it myself. It has to be me. Besides, most of them are

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preoccupied already. But you can get me some more coffee, if that’s okay with you…” Adam sighed a here-we-go-again sigh. Then he frowned. “Have you got a problem with the food around here?” he asked, picking up Murphy’s untouched Sloppy Joe from lunch and giving it a whiff. Murphy winced. “I wasn’t hungry.” Then he turned to Adam and smiled. “You know what, buddy? It’s great to be here. Ever since you were put on permanent special assignment to Firestorm, I’ve missed having you around, you know?” Adam chuckled, giving Murphy a solid pat on the back. “Likewise, buddy.” “And I’m loving the opportunity of working with Axel and Blaze again,” Murphy continued. “I just hope we can finish the Syndicate for good this time.” Adam nodded, his expression suddenly grim. “We all do.” Murphy took a deep breath, and blew it out slowly. Everything was quiet, apart from the audible hum of the computer system. “So, how are you coping, you know, since Skate died?” The question made Adam feel hollow. All he did was stare straight ahead. Murphy tried again. “How are you coping?” “Not too good,” Adam said in a quiet monotone. “No one should ever have to outlive their younger brother…” Murphy didn’t know how to respond. Although he’d known plenty of pain in his life, he still didn’t know how to respond to the pain of others. It was a brute fact. It was there, beyond the power of words. When his parents died, he’d had to put up with a long line of fools coming up to him saying, “they’re happy now” and “it’s probably all for the best”. He wouldn’t try to cheat Adam of his pain with any sugarcoated platitudes At the same time, he had to say something. Adam was sinking fast, deep into some hopeless place within himself, and the team couldn’t afford that right now. “Adam, listen -” Murphy was quiet but urgent - “I’m sorry about Skate. And Max too.” That caught Adam’s attention. “But Firestorm is gonna need to stick together, now more than ever. You’ve got to stay strong.” Adam swallowed in the depths of his throat. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. How about that coffee, huh?” He turned and walked away slowly. Murphy watched him go, then turned back to the computer screen, determined to find the evil man responsible for this tragedy.

***

Blaze sat on the edge of the bed, biting her lip anxiously. The news was a great shock to her system, and she wondered how Axel was going to respond to it. Of all the improbable things she thought could happen to her, this was right up there on the very top of the list, and right now, her emotions were everywhere: she was nervous, excited, afraid, ecstatic… I never thought in a million years that this was possible… Axel made his way through the main door, and as he approached her, she took a deep, shaky breath, preparing herself to break the news to him. He looked concerned. “Hey, I just got your message. What’s wrong?” He realised that she wasn’t angry, but somehow ashamed.

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She licked her lips. “Oh, Axel. I have something to tell you, and I don’t know how you’re going to react. Please don’t be angry with me.” Axel frowned, sitting down on the bed next to her. He placed his right arm around her shoulders, holding her tight. “Tell me what?” he asked. She blushed. “Axel… I’m pregnant.” Then she turned away from him, feeling ashamed and rejected. “You’re pregnant?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows. “But… I thought you were infertile…” Blaze nodded, looking him in the eyes. “Yes. I was infertile, as a result of the Syndicate experimentation, and the drug Triazolam. But… well, see for yourself…” she handed him the pregnancy test strip she’d used. Axel took the small device. Sure enough, it indicated that she wasn’t lying. She was pregnant. They had conceived a child! He grinned, his eyes filling with tears. “It’s a miracle! Blaze, this is wonderful news! This is the happiest moment of my life!” Blaze started crying also, tears of happiness and relief. Axel reached out and took her shoulders into his hands. His pulse quickened and his mouth started going dry. Desiring nothing more than to kiss her, he pulled her closer, and when she turned her face to his, began to trace her features with his fingertips. He started having a sense of déjà vu, recalling the first time he’d made love to her. This face was the same face he’d fallen in love with all those years ago, and now they were going to bring a child into the world, together. It was everything he ever wanted. She was everything he wanted. Axel felt like he should tell her, explain how he was feeling. But by that point their lips were too close for words, too close to do anything but kiss.

***

The hot white glare of the computer scanner rolled across the hastily cleared desktop, and over the surface of Murphy’s topographical image, digitizing its patterns and uploading them into the computer. Chomping unconsciously on a Power Bar, Murphy was working like a six-armed-demon – he was in pure concentration mode. Leaning over the keyboard, he isolated a few image filters, then went into “split screen”, and began comparing satellite images, one by one, to the suspect sites he’d been given by MI7 staffers as potential locations for Mr. X’s hideout. He began concentrating his search on mountain ranges, typing in new parameters. Almost at once, he found a strong similarity between a large blip in the Himalayas, and one of the mysterious radiation sources cited by MI7. The same location showed up as man-made, and wasn’t showing up on the NWO database. Murphy stood up, grinning. He looked once more at the screen, at the strange, fortress-like blob, then reached for the phone. “Bingo.”

***

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The first thing Axel saw when he woke up the next morning was Blaze’s face. It was still peacefully sleeping only inches away from his. He thought about everything that had been said and done the night before, and he couldn’t help it. He bust out grinning. He rolled on his back, put his hands under his head, and grinned at the ceiling. I’m going to be a father… Blaze stirred, mewing like a contented kitten. Then her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled at Axel. “Morning, sexy,” she cooed. “Morning, hon,” he said, playing with her hair affectionately. “I love you…” “I love you too.” Suddenly, the phone on the bedside cabinet started to ring. Axel yawned, then reached over the answer it. It was Adam. “Hey Ax,” Adam’s voice said excitedly. “I have some good news for you…” Axel grinned. “More good news?” “Yeah,” Adam replied. “Murphy has finally located Mr. X’s hidden fortress. It’s huge. It’s deep in the Himalayan mountains…” Axel nodded. “Great stuff, Adam. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He put down the receiver, and turned to Blaze. “What news?” she asked, stretching. Axel looked into her deep brown eyes. “We’re making progress, at last,” he told her. “We’ve found Mr. X…”

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32

Deus Ex Machina

The Himalayan mountain system was home to the world’s highest peaks: the eight-thousanders, including Mount Everest. Over one hundred separate mountains stretched across it, blanketing six nations: Bhutan, China, India, Nepal, Pakistan and Afghanistan. Mr. X’s hidden fortress was located deep in one of the most impenetrable parts of the mountain system, the Siachen Glacier, located in the eastern Karakoram Range spanning the borders of Pakistan and China. It was a vast construction, the main fortress itself over five hundred feet wide, constructed ages ago by a long-dead civilisation. Its walls were now reinforced by plastecrete, ferrofoam and steel, and it bore little resemblance to the glorious temple it once was. It was now a technological monstrosity, with subterranean levels, and additional wings that branched out in a mile-wide perimeter. The entire complex was heavily fortified, and guarded at all times by a legion of no less than four hundred X-Robots. Dr. Dahm’s laboratory was on the very outskirts of the complex, most of it located deep beneath the surface. The only part visible from ground level was the huge radio telescope dish that appeared to grow from the icy ground. The dish moved at the command of men and women hidden deep underground, some thirty feet below the surface. The dish, at this very moment, was locked onto a forgotten piece of former Soviet space junk – in reality a fully operational Syndicate satellite – over the Middle East. It was being controlled by a young woman who sat at a workstation in a well-lit, windowless, scrupulously clean, spacious computer room. There were roughly a dozen men and women working in this section of the complex. Not one of them was over forty years of age and they had been specially chosen from a list of hundreds of potential computer scientists throughout the Syndicate’s ranks. Doors to kitchens, rest rooms, dining and sleeping facilities led off from this technical area, and a thick glass wall divided the scientists from a control room, manned by Dr. Dahm himself and several other men and women in uniform. This second section contained a long console replete with digital electronic instruments and switches topped by a vast screen, blank at this moment. Sunk into the wall behind this complex control area, was a brilliant red safe. Next to the safe in black lettering was a notice which said:

LOCKED. AUTHORISATION CODE REQUIRED

And as an extra precaution, a steel electronic gate secured by steel plates directly in front of the safe.

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Out among the lines of computers, the girl manipulating the satellite spoke quietly into the small mike attached to a headset – “Rotate right sixty degrees, ascend to one hundred kilometres.” The blinking satellite symbol on her monitor moved at her bidding. She smiled as though she had just taught a clever trick to a pet. Working beside her, a man named Galvice said, “I need a cigarette.” Galvice swaggered away from his terminal, as if he were walking off the job, heading for one of the utility doors. He went up the steep angle of stone steps that led to the outside world, grinned at a security camera, pushed open the door and stepped into the cold, bleak landscape. As he did so, Dr. Dahm’s voice echoed from a concealed speaker – “Galvice, you are using an emergency exit. You have been told before, this is illegal. Get back to the technical area as quickly as possible.” “Come up and stop me.” Galvice was always doing this kind of thing. He pulled out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes. He had bought a huge amount on his last leave from the complex, paying with the hard currency the Syndicate technicians earned. Putting a cigarette between his lips, he flicked at the wheel of his lighter and lit up, inhaling the fumes like it was a lifeline. He squinted his eyes. Just ahead, a group of X-Robots was approaching, escorting Mr. X, Shiva and Rudra straight towards the lab. “Let’s get on with this,” Rudra was saying. “I’ve been ready for some time now.” “This is an historic day for us,” Shiva added. Galvice did a swift disappearing act as soon as he spotted the three authority figures. Now, X, Shiva and Rudra kept step with each other as they marched purposefully along the side of the building, where ice and snow had been cleared from a path which led to the main door, down wide concrete steps, along a corridor to a security door. A guard sprang to attention and saluted, though Mr. X seemed to hardly notice the man. He knew exactly what he was doing, looking straight into a camera placed at almost eye level and clearly speaking his name – “George Xetheus. Syndicate Head.” There were a series of fast bleeps as the system went through its voice recongition routine, then the steel security door opened. “X-Robots, leave us,” X commanded. The armed escort turned, returning to their assigned duties on the surface. The three of them went through the door, then walked straight into Dr. Dahm’s control room. The computer scientists and technicians behind the thick tinted glass were moving, craning from their workstations to see what was going on. Dahm snapped to attention. “My Lord, welcome to my humble laboratory!” “Report status,” X barked. “Everything is ready for the launch of the Phase Three Battlegroup, my Lord,” Dahm beamed. “We have twenty-five-thousand Robot Y units here, now, primed and ready to go. Two operational satellites, Phobos and Deimos, both in earth orbit at one hundred kilometres. All we need is your final authorisation, and the Great Doomsday can finally begin!” X nodded, taking a deep breath. “Very good, Henry. Now, remind me again how these Phase Three units differ from the original Robot Y prototype.” “They are vastly superior to that obselete model in many ways, my Lord,” Dahm beamed. “The new upgraded model of Robot Y’s interior workings are highly

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sophisticated. It has artificial fibers that contract when electricity is applied, much like natural muscle, instead of typical hydraulics; this pseudo-muscle tissue makes it very maneuverable. It also has a nervous-system-like system of conductive nanotubes, which connect the widely dispersed sensor systems and relay commands to the various parts of the machine’s body, automatically bypassing damaged systems and rerouting to auxiliary systems when needed. Another feature is its blood-like armorrepair nanopaste, which is secreted from valves whenever the exterior surface is damaged. Also, Robot Y’s armour is now made of a ceramic titanium alloy.” X grinned. “I trust the weaponry is as…destructive… as required?” “Oh, yes,” Dahm nodded. “Each unit is fitted with four anti-aircraft railguns, two anti-tank rocket launchers, and a concussion launcher with a five hundred yard dispersion field. They are most formidable.” “Good, good,” X said, licking his lips. “Nothing can stop us now! Here’s the authorisation code. Hand me the launch keys, please. The time for waiting is over. I am launching the Battlegroup right now.” Dahm almost fell over himself trying to get things done correctly, punching in the numbers to unlock the metal gate in front of the safe, using the palm print pad to ID himself, then tapping in the safe’s code. The lock beeped different tones – like a digital telephone, then clicked open. “The electronic launch keys, my Lord,” Dahm said, handed the things to X. Then he went to his main control console and punched a few buttons. X nodded, giving one of the keys to Shiva, then slid his key into a slot by Dahm’s console. Shiva did the same. “On my count,” X rasped. “Three, two, one, zero.” They turned their keys in unison and the rest of the console lit up, needles flicked and the screen above them showed a map of the Earth with one of the satellites in orbit. There was a sudden loud, rumbling sound filling the entire facility. The ground beneath them seemed to vibrate. Then, on a security monitor, they watched as a huge platform retracted on the surface outside, and the twenty-five-thousand Y Robots began to emerge, lifting into the air on hydrogen-fuelled jetpacks like a monstrous swarm of giant robotic insects. “My God…” Rudra whispered, watching the awesome sight unfold on the monitor. She looked anxiously at Mr. X, who was grinning, rubbing his hands together and cackling with anticipation. He turned to look at Rudra, giving her a crazed, fatherly smile. “That I am, my child, that I am,” he grinned. “But the name Socharis will suffice.” Rudra stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “The satellite will enable us to control the Battlegroup remotely,” Dahm said, motioning toward the map on the huge screen. X nodded, turning his attention to Dahm. “Disperse the Battlegroup to every major city around the world,” he commanded. “I want the destruction to be total. I want to destroy every government, every military force within forty-eight-hours of the commencement of battle.” Dahm licked his lips. “It will take twelve hours to move the Battlegroup into position.” He punched buttons, and they saw the Y Robots on the security monitor begin to move off through the air, toward their preprogrammed destinations. More and more Y Robots were continually swarming up from the open launch chamber. “Excellent,” X said. “The time can’t come soon enough.” “Well, you know what they say, sir,” Shiva grinned at him. “Time flies, when you’re having fun…”

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33

Family Ties

Right in the very heart of the Syndicate’s Himalayan fortress, there was a private spa in the basement of the officers’ quarters. It had a distinctly Asian décor: the ceiling was decorated with chandeliers; elsewhere there were fluted pillars, beautifully carved marble, red plush seats and hangings. There was also an unusually high scent of chlorine in the air. During the evening you could often find many of the Syndicate’s highest ranking members swimming in the luxurious pool, or reclining in one of the big steam rooms. In spite of the chlorine it was an admirable place to relax and unwind after a long hard day. Leon Shiva was glad that he had got in before anyone else. He wanted to swim and steam away the day’s tensions on his own. That was why he had carefully hung a Closed for Cleaning sign on the main door at the top of the steps leading down to the pool area. There were other reasons. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts, to reflect on what was going on without being disturbed. To this end he had checked out the changing rooms and the steam rooms to make sure no-one else was about, particularly the big one decorated with beautiful tiling, the steam billowing and hot around him. When he was satisfied that he was alone, he dived into the warm pool, beginning a leisurely swim. Now, as he knifed through the water, his mind began to focus on the events of the day, the launching of the Phase Three Battlegroup, and the implications this was going to have on world events. Very soon, a planet wide battle was about to begin… effectively a Third World War… one that was going to last a day or two at most. It was what Mr. X referred to as the ‘Great Doomsday’ or the ‘Day of Reckoning’. The military forces of the NWO really didn’t stand a chance against a Battlegroup of 25,000 Y Robots. They had absolutely no idea of the fate that was about to befall them, and they would collapse quickly in the face of this surprise attack. Operation Shadow Hand’s success was virtually assured. It was only a matter of time now. Shiva executed a fast racing turn and streaked through the water, breathing naturally and swimming with ease. He felt good. Relaxation was something he rarely got to enjoy, so the chance to get some in now, on the eve of Mr. X’s final victory, felt important somehow. As he emerged at the end of the pool close to the columned entrance to the big steam bath, he frowned. The clouds of steam were moving, wafting, reforming as though a ghost had passed through. Someone, he thought suspiciously, was lurking within the steam. He could sense it. He climbed out of the pool, shook himself, picking up the towel he had left at this end, rubbing it through his hair as he moved towards the archway and into the dense cloud, heading towards the alcove where he had left his clothes.

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Was someone here to assassinate him? He couldn’t be sure. Instinct was everything now. Someone else was here, in this place, that much was certain. Quite near and lurking with some strange intent. He felt the presence though he could not see, then the large pillar came out of the mist, just to his left. He had to pass it to get to his clothes, so he danced to the right, away from the pillar, his head turning left, eyes peering through what could just as easily have been dense cloud or smoke. He knew, from a hundred experiences, that whoever was lurking in the steam might be carrying a knife. He turned left and pounced forward, going low in case that was true. As his hand shot out, he felt his fingers touch flesh, then his entire hand was clasped around another human wrist. He jerked forwards and downwards, dragging whoever it was into the relatively clear air of the alcove where he had left his things. Rudra stood facing him, holding a towel in front of her. “Rudra!” Shiva hissed. “What are you doing here? Are you trying to sneak up on me?” She put a finger to her lips, looking into his eyes intently. “Shhh!” Then she whispered, “Leon, please be quiet. No-one else knows I’m here…” She moved towards him. Two paces. Shiva blinked the sweat from his eyes, raising his eyebrows. “That’s close enough…” he breathed. “Now answer my question. Why are you sneaking around, following me?” Rudra took a deep breath. “Leon… I…I wanted to have a moment alone with you. Away from the prying eyes of the security cameras. I wanted to talk to you in privacy… and this is as good a place as any.” Shiva frowned. He had no idea why she was being so secretive, but he was determined to get to the bottom of it just the same. “Fair enough,” he said, giving her a suspicious look. “Just give me a minute to put some clothes on…” Rudra averted her eyes while Shiva slipped off his towel and dressed himself. When he was ready, he motioned to a wooden seat in the corner of the big steam room, and they sat down together, cloaked in mist. “Leon,” Rudra began. “Do you remember your family?” Shiva shifted uncomfortably. “My family? Well, of course I remember them. Why do you ask?” “What happened to them?” she probed. “How did they die?” Shiva swallowed. He wasn’t sure if he liked Rudra’s chosen line of questioning, but decided to play along. “Well, my mother died of breast cancer when I was very young,” he told her. “But… my father, and my little sister… they were killed, murdered in their beds in Japan, whilst I was serving in Gulf War II.” He clenched a fist, gritting his teeth. “There was nothing I could do about it. I was stationed in Iraq when I heard the news… Senator George Xetheus broke the news to me himself. I … erm… didn’t react too well to it, to tell you the truth…” he shook his head, clearly regretting what had happened. Rudra nodded. “You opened fire on unarmed civilians in Baghdad…” Shiva swallowed dryly. “Yes. I was so frustrated… I got court marshalled for doing it. They were going to send me to a Federal prison for a long time. But thanks to Mr. X, I was allowed to walk free. It’s how I got involved with the Syndicate in the first place. Why are you asking me all this? What’s going on?” Rudra was nodding her head thoughtfully. She opened her mouth and took a deep breath, then said softly, “Leon, there’s no easy way for me to tell you this, but…”

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Shiva squinted his eyes. What was she about to tell him? “Mr. X lied to you that day,” she said. “He lied about the deaths of your family, as a ploy to draw you in to his Syndicate.” “What?” Shiva hissed, jerking away from her. “Don’t be ridiculous! How could you possibly know this?” Rudra leaned forward. “I know this… because I am Kagami Shiva. I am your sister!” ***

“Kagami?” Leon Shiva could not believe it at first. He went cold and wanted to vomit, yet his stunned disbelief was gradually turning to anger. “Yes,” she said, staring into his eyes. Shiva swallowed, wiping cold sweat from his forehead. “I knew I recognised you from somewhere! It… it really is you! Kagami! But why have you kept this a secret from me for all these years? If I’d only known you were alive…” Rudra held up a hand, silencing him. She blew out her breath slowly and wearily. “Part of me has wanted, has yearned to tell you for so long,” she said solemnly, taking his hand in her own. “But… it has been extremely difficult. Another part of me never wanted anything to do with you again. I never forgave you for not coming back from the war… never forgave you for abandoning me…” Tears began to roll down Shiva’s cheeks. “Kagami… I … I was told that you were killed! There was nothing for me to go back for! That day I received word of your death, of father’s death… I lost everything. My entire world collapsed. The only thing I could do was take out my frustration on those poor innocent Iraqis.” Rudra nodded, tears beginning to swell in her own eyes. She wiped them with her left arm, sniffing. “I was trapped for days in the ruins of our home…” she whimpered. “For days the only company I had was the dead body of our father. I so wanted you to come home, Leon. I so wanted you to rescue me, to take me to safety and tell me that everything was going to be okay. But you never did…” Shiva was choked up. He didn’t speak. “I renounced my former identity,” Rudra continued. “I disowned the past, and became a bounty hunter, taking on the name ‘Rudra’. The family name of ‘Shiva’ meant nothing to me after that. Eventually, I also found my way into the Syndicate’s ranks. I happened to move on more or less just in time. When I first saw you, and realised that it was you who was Mr. X’s right hand man, I had to bite the bullet and pretend like I didn’t know you…” “I’m sorry, Kagami,” Shiva whispered, shaking his head. “I had absolutely no idea. If only I’d known that you had survived… I would have come back for you…” His eyes darted around the room. He clenched his teeth, snorting through his nostrils, rage festering up inside him. “It was Mr. X that told me you had been killed! He lied to me! Son of a bitch!” Rudra nodded. “Why have you waited until now to tell me this?” Shiva asked her, slightly exasperated. “Over the past few days, it has occurred to me that Mr. X serves only his own purposes, and cares nothing for anyone else,” Rudra said. “It’s only now, at the very culmination of Operation Shadow Hand, that Mr. X’s true insanity appears to have

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blossomed. I have started to really question Mr. X’s motives recently. He believes he is a God, yet all I have seen are the actions of an ignorant, selfish blind man, sending an innocent world to an uncertain doom. I am not sure if I can accept that… if I can be happy serving such a man for the rest of my life. He is not the Mr. X that we once knew. His mind turned sour long ago. Have you not thought the same, Leon, but lacked motivation to act upon your feelings?” Shiva sat looking at her. His thoughts turned to Electra, the girl he had loved, the girl he had planned to rule the Syndicate with by his side. He turned away, blushing, feeling like a failure and coward. Then he turned back, teeth clenched, and said, “What are you saying, my sister?” Rudra leaned forward. “I’m saying we should do something about it. Together. You and I.” Her voice was almost pleading. “For heaven’s sake, Leon. We must do something…” Shiva took a deep breath, then nodded. His thoughts became a jumble of new ideas and opportunities. Everything had changed now. “We will, Kagami. We will,” he said, then gently wrapped the trembling girl in his arms.

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34

Assault on the Fortress

The noise of the chopper, flying in at no more than thirty feet from the ground, was brutal. Axel sat close to the doorway, letting the cold night air rush over his face. He’d been keeping his eyes peeled to the ground during the one hour they had been flying over the Himalayas from Pakistan, and they were now fast approaching the Syndicate Fortress, which twinkled and flashed with explosions and gunfire in the darkness ahead. Five minutes, he thought. Then we get the chance to join this assault… At his side were Blaze, Adam, Zan and Musashi. From Washington D.C. they’d flown straight to Pakistan with the coalition forces of the NWO, where General Ivan Petrov himself had established a mobile command post. Petrov, now the Supreme Commander of the New World Order’s military forces, had flown in personally to direct the air and ground assault against the Syndicate’s Himalayan Fortress – a battle that was already well underway. General Petrov had established the makeshift base about a hundred miles south of where they were now. Stealth bombers and jetships, tasked to knock out some of the Syndicate’s key structures, were some of the first units to be sent in – in order to establish air supremacy and wipe out their air defences. Choppers, two at a time, then started ferrying troops up. When Firestorm had checked into Petrov’s command post, they had a few hours to eat, prepare their kit and pick up on the latest intelligence: an army of no less than four hundred X-Robots patrolled the enemy fortress, and an entire legion of Syndicate fighters, punks, and Sentry robots also awaited further inside the perimeter. There were now over a dozen squadrons of NWO soldiers fighting the X-Robot army, gradually drawing them off to the east. Essentially, the battle was a diversion, to draw the X-Robots away from the fortress and allow Firestorm to infiltrate the complex unseen. At least, that was the idea. For the mission ahead, none of them were taking any more than essential supplies. They were wearing plain clothes to stop from drawing attention to themselves: black cheap slacks and boots, and loose nylon sweaters underneath which they had fitted Kevlar bullet-proof jackets. They were carrying M-16 Assault Rifles with two hundred rounds of ammunition each, plus six hand grenades, the same number of stun grenades, five pounds of Semtex and two detonators. For handguns they had brought Browning BDA 380s with silencers: they were small reliable pistols, with wooden handles, and a semi-automatic firing mechanism that could store twelve 9mm or thirteen 7.65mm rounds. “Get ready to land,” shouted the pilot, into the radio, his words instantly transmitted into the helmets of the five team members sitting behind him. The chopper was flown by experienced Air Force pilots, experts at special forces insertions. It came in low, to make it impossible for the Syndicate’s radar to lock on to them. That made for a choppy ride, as the machine soared above electricity pylons, then dropped down to hug the surface of the terrain again. Talking was

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banned inside the helicopter: there was too much risk of the Syndicate picking up the signals and being alerted to Firestorm’s presence. Axel braced himself. He’d been in combat before, taking down criminal organisations, but had never been in a proper military war zone like this one. He felt a mixture of excitement, fear and anticipation as the moment of truth neared. It would be okay once they were in there. The action would overwhelm their senses, and the will to stay alive would kick in, making it impossible to think about anything else. It was this moment beforehand that made Axel uneasy: when doubts started to creep in, when he started to wonder whether he was going to live through the next few hours, whether he would ever live to see the birth of his child. Forget it, he told himself. Just get the job done, then get home. The helicopter flew fast into the perimeter of the Syndicate fortress. To the east, they saw the lights of hundreds of machine guns blazing, as the X-Robot army battled the brave soldiers that were risking their lives to give them this chance… The pilot was lowering the chopper on to the ground. This was the most dangerous moment of the mission. Drop-down. If the Syndicate knew they were coming, there could well be a battalion of X-Robots waiting to meet them. It wasn’t hard to put a rocket-propelled grenade into a descending chopper. Just point and press the trigger, thought Axel. Then sit back and watch the fireworks. With a twisting motion that was making Axel’s stomach heave, the chopper dropped clean downwards. The pilot had no lights on, to make sure the helicopter didn’t draw attention to itself. The drill was to bring the chopper down hard if the ground looked clear. You kept the throttle open all the time, so the chopper could be pulled up again rapidly if it faced any incoming fire. It made for a nasty bump when you landed, but it was better than getting hit by a missile. “Clear,” snapped the pilot over the intercom. “Get ready, guys.” Axel held on to the metal frame of the chopper, turning his head to look at Blaze. She looked absolutely terrified. The blood rushed to Axel’s head as the helicopter descended the last few feet. Just before landing it suddenly jerked upwards, like a yo-yo being snapped back. This was the most dangerous moment of all. Only two hours ago, one of the NWO special forces teams going in by chopper had been blown apart by a single X-Robot lying on the ground waiting for them. All it took was one bullet into the fuel tank. All five guys on that chopper had died in an instant. With a thud, the chopper came to rest on the icy surface of the ground. The pilot had counted down the time until landing, and on one, Axel pulled the headset away, casting it to the floor. Axel rushed forward to the open door, hurling himself to the ground. Around him, he could hear Blaze, Adam, Zan and Musashi do the same, while behind him he heard the helicopter’s huge steel propeller roar into overdrive as it revved up the power to lift the machine into the sky. It had only been on the ground for five seconds. As it rose back up towards the sky, its propellers sucked up a storm of snow, rising in vertical columns into the air, then exploding against the night sky as water. All right for you, thought Axel, as the helicopter disappeared behind the clouds. You’ll be sleeping in a nice warm bed tonight, watching MTV. Not fighting your way through this hellhole… “Clear the area,” he instructed. The Syndicate could be on the way to meet them right now. Lying flat on the ground, Axel glanced at his watch. For the next ten minutes, he would just lie there,

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completely silent, waiting to see if their position had been spotted. Slowly he started to recover his senses from the noise and heat of the chopper. The snow was six inches thick across the immediate area. Straight ahead of them was a ridge of mud, and behind that some rusting cars and decaying industrial machinery. As the time elapsed, Axel picked himself up and ran towards it, keeping his head down. He scrambled up over the ridge, then waited, recovering his breath. Blaze, Adam, Zan and Musashi were at his side. “Everyone okay?” he asked. “Scared to hell,” Blaze whispered, her breath visible as clouds of steam in the cold air. “But okay, I guess.” Adam nodded. “We’re okay. It looks like our little ‘diversion’ worked. Nobody spotted us on the way in.” Musashi took a deep breath. “Just the same, I would recommend proceeding with extreme caution. The Syndicate is no doubt expecting us to try something like this.” Axel licked his lips. “Zan, can you track Mr. X’s location using your internal sensors?” Zan cocked his head, then gave Axel a thumbs-up. “Yes. He’s some distance from here, though… deep in the bowels of the complex….” He frowned. “We’ll have to find our way in, but getting through the defences is going to be tricky…” Somewhere in the distance, huge explosions could be heard. Axel grinned, beginning to creep forward, towards the fortress. “This way,” he said. “I have an idea…” ***

Dr. Dahm sat in his control room, sweating. There wasn’t much time. The military forces of the New World Order were attacking the fortress, were engaged in a fierce battle with the X-Robot defences, and he wasn’t sure how long it would be until they broke through into the perimeter. Trembling wearily, he punched buttons on the console before him, making a videophone call to Mr. X, who would be in his personal chamber in the very heart of the base. It was now or never. Mr. X answered, his youthful face appearing on the monitor. “What is it, Henry?” Dahm cleared his throat, blinking. “Sir, I am pleased to inform you that the Phase Three Battlegroup is in position. We have Y Robots in every nation, poised to attack, and I only require your final word to turn them loose…” X nodded, grinning. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let the war begin! Activate the Y Robots!” “Very good, sir,” Dahm said, and pressed a large red button. There was a computerised beep, and the signal to attack was sent to every Y Robot across the face of the earth. “It’s done,” Dahm told him, exhaling in relief. With the press of one button, all his decades of hard work, research, and experimentation had finally paid off. “Excellent,” X beamed. “Now, no matter what the outcome of this ridiculous military siege, we have won. No-one can stop Shadow Hand now!” Mr. X laughed for a long time. Dr. Dahm shivered, only hoping that his Master was right.

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35

Tank Rush

It was past midnight now. Axel, Blaze, Adam, Zan and Musashi were crouched behind a wall, a couple of hundred yards away from Dr. Dahm’s laboratory building. The lab was set in its own patch of icy wasteland, set apart from the rest of the fortress, with a main road leading up to it. Most of the lab appeared to be underground, with a large radar antenna sprouting up out of the ice like some hellish flower. The building was heavily fortified, with a wall of barbed wire, and what looked like at least a couple of dozen Syndicate thugs, plus a few sentry robots that resembled the ones they faced on the Pacific Island. It was impossible to tell how many from the outside. They had waited for fifteen minutes before they saw one man go into the building, watching as his papers were thoroughly checked. There was no chance of going through the front entrance without being captured, so if they were going to get inside, they would have to fight their way in. Luckily, Axel had spotted a resting tank crew. “That’s how we get in,” he said. “Nobody stops a T-90 and asks for its papers.” “I hope you’re right, Ax,” Adam breathed. “Yeah, Axel. I hope you’re right.” That was Blaze. The tank crew was clustered by the side of their vehicle, a quarter-mile from the lab. One man was squatting on the ground beside it, brewing himself a cup of sticky coffee on a gas burner. Another was cleaning his AK-47. The third was having a kip, his body stretched out on the ground, close to the thick, black treads of the Syndicate-built mammoth tank. “Think we can take them?” whispered Adam. Axel nodded. “Sitting ducks,” he said. Joe Musashi grabbed his shoulder. “There are no sitting ducks, Axel,” he insisted. “I’ve been in more fights than you have, and I can tell you, the most dangerous enemy you can ever face is your own overconfidence. Any man with a gun in his hand can kill you. Let’s not forget what happened to Skate…” “We can take them,” said Blaze, looking Axel in the eyes. As she focused on the three soldiers, Blaze could see one of them switch off the gas burner, and drink the last of his coffee. He got up, and walked behind the tank for a piss. Blaze started running, her feet hitting the ground hard. She was closing swiftly on her target, her M-16 jutting from her chest like a sword. She remained silent, except for the tread of her boots on the ice. Four hundred yards, she judged. Three hundred and fifty. At two hundred yards, she’d open up with the assault rifle. With any luck, they’ll all be dead before we get within a hundred yards of them. Her pulse was beating hard, and she could feel her heart thumping inside her chest. Ahead, she could see the soldier who’d been drinking coffee look up towards her. She could see the expression on the man’s face. At first interested, as if he was wondering why a woman was running at him. Then afraid…

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The man jumped to his feet. He was shouting something, first towards Blaze, then towards his two companians. Ten yards to her right, she could see Axel and Zan also running in the direction of the tank, their M-16s thrust in front of them. Adam and Musashi were close behind. A second passed, then another. The soldier was reaching for his gun. Blaze slammed her finger hard into the trigger of the M-16. The gun exploded into a rapid burst of fire, the bullets screeching through the night air. As she looked ahead, Blaze knew she’d fired too soon. The bullets were pinging off the skin of the tank, or smashing uselessly into the ice. But she’d bought them a few more fractions of a second, while the man looked up and tried to understand what was happening. “Get the one behind the tank,” Axel barked at Zan. Blaze saw him veering off towards the right. She moved steadily forward, her breath shortening as she’d pushed herself as fast as she could. A hundred and fifty yards… The man was reaching down for his own gun. It was in his hands now. His fingers were grasping for the trigger, but his hands were shaking. The fear has already crippled him, Axel thought. His training’s forgotten. Axel opened fire, ripping a lethal blast of bullets in the direction of their opponent. The bullets were smashing into the ground, but then he could hear the sound of steel ripping into flesh. The man spun round as one bullet after another smashed into him. One had taken out a chunk of his chest, another had ripped open his face. Another set of bullets shredded his lungs, and in the next instant he had slumped to the ground, blood oozing from a dozen different holes in his body. The guy sleeping was now alert. He’d leapt to his feet, and was scrabbling around for his gun. Axel had changed direction, veering slightly to the left as he closed in on the tank. His M-16 was spraying bullets in the direction of the second man. The soldier already knew he wasn’t going to get to his gun in time. With the desparate will to live of a man who knew he was already done for, he was trying to bury himself underneath the heavy tracks of the T-90. Axel pointed the M-16 right at him, letting off a rapid burst of fire. The bullets smashed into his legs as he tried to get himself beneath the protective skin of the tank. He was howling in agony as the metal shredded the arteries, and within seconds it was clear he was already numbed with pain and shock, unable to move another muscle. Axel arrived by the tank with Blaze closely on his heels, panting and exhausted, with sweat seeping from every pore of his skin. He looked down at the man, then stamped the heel of his boot hard into the man’s face. The soldier was dead. As Axel and Blaze walked swiftly around the tank, they saw Zan standing next to the third soldier. The guy hadn’t even had time to finish taking a piss. He was standing there, immobilised by fear. “Don’t kill me!” he kept saying, the words trembling on his lips. “Please!” Adam and Musashi caught up to them. When they saw what was going on, Adam said, “What’s keeping you, Zan?” “What shall I do with him?” Zan asked. Axel shrugged. “Kill him. We can’t leave him alive.” Zan raised his eyebrows. As a scientist and researcher, this wasn’t something he enjoyed, but since they were dealing with the Syndicate, he had no choice. He threw his mechanical arms forward, discharging electrical current violently across the man’s body. “Powerup!”

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The man’s legs crumpled beneath him, and he crashed into an ugly, burned mess on the ground. Axel folded his gun behind his back. A surge of anger and aggression was raging through him, and he took a deep, hard breath of the night air to try and calm himself. He looked at Blaze. She’d already put away her gun, and was heading for the tank. “Let’s go,” Blaze said tersely. “We’ve got work to do.” ***

With one powerful movement of his forearms, Axel Stone hoisted himself up on to the platform of the T-90. The tank had been painted snow white, natural camouflage for its use at this Syndicate Fortress. There was some evidence of rust around the tracks, but to Axel it looked in pretty good shape. It was custom-built, heavily modified by Syndicate scientists, and it could punch a hole in just about any opponent it came up against. Axel pulled back the turret, and glanced inside. Empty. One by one they dropped down into the cockpit. The interior of the tank was cramped with five people inside it – even though it had been designed for that many. There was space for a driver, a navigator, and three gunners, two at the front and one at the back. The Syndicate had reinforced the basic design with an extra layer of armour designed to provide some cover against anti-tank missiles, and that extra thick metal skin had reduced the interior space even more. Axel was already firing up the massive diesel engine, and as the machine started to roll into life, Blaze could feel the metal frame start to vibrate beneath her. “You can drive this thing?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Axel shrugged. “I learned how to drive a Soviet tank once at a War and Peace show a few years back.” He smiled to himself at the memory. “This can’t be too much different.” He kick-started the accelerator, and slowly the machine started to rumble into life. There was the sound of metal scratching against metal as the wheels turned, pulling it across the snow. It shook violently as Axel searched around for the right gear, shuddering as it lurched forwards. “Christ,” said Adam. “I’ve been in Italian taxis where the drivers had more idea what they were doing.” “Just leave it,” said Axel, trying to concentrate. Looking through the thin viewing strip, he could see Dr. Dahm’s laboratory looming up fast. The first strip of barbed wire wasn’t going to provide any opposition to a T-90. Axel drove the tank straight up to it, and in the next instant he felt the weight of the machine crushing it. The enormous bulk of the T-90 rolled across the wire like it was cotton wool, then accelerated towards the group of sentry robots that provided the building with its main protection. As soon as they crushed the first robot, they could hear thugs shouting, and then the sound of gunfire. How many men were out there, it was impossible to tell. Perhaps two dozen. Whatever number it was, Axel reflected grimly, they hadn’t expected one of their own tanks to come after them. Slamming his foot down hard on the acclerator, Axel took the T-90 up a gear. It rolled violently into another sentry robot, smashing it to pieces beneath the wheels. They could hear the metal screeching all around them as the tank punched its way

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forward. Up ahead, another half a dozen sentry robots emerged, bouncing toward them like mechanical toads. The T-90 was equipped with two machine guns, as well as its main artillery piece: a coaxial gun on its main turret, and a smaller anti-aircraft gun on its side. Both could be operated from the driver’s cockpit. Through his viewfinder, Musashi could see three Syndicate thugs rushing towards them, guns blazing. He turned the machine gun on them and rattled off a quick burst of fire. The tank fired high-calibre bullets that completely shredded people: limbs and heads were strewn all over the ground. It’s like cutting grass, he thought grimly. From somewhere, he could hear more firing, a machine gun from the noise it was making. The bullets were smashing into the side of the T-90, but bouncing harmlessly away. It was hot and sweaty within the cramped confines of the T-90. Looking ahead, Axel could see the sentry robots coming straight for them, firing lasers. Slamming his hand down hard on the controls, Axel fired a shell from the tank’s main artillery cannon. There was a brief silence while the hulking piece of metal whizzed through the air, then a terrifying explosion as it smashed into the sentry robots and tore into the main entrance of the building. Without pausing for a second, Axel slammed his fist down again, firing another shell straight into the same space. Up ahead, a fireball erupted into the sky. He could hear the cries and screams of wounded, dying men, as the shell cut deep into the ground, then exploded upwards, destroying everything around it. Dust and smoke were filling the air, but as it gradually began to clear, Axel could see that the sentry robots had been completely destroyed. A dozen corpses were lying mutilated across the ground, and half the front wall of the building had been blown away. “Any more of the fuckers?” grunted Blaze. Axel looked around. The tank was still rolling forwards so that it was within yards of the main entrance. The smoke from the two shells was gradually clearing, and so far as Axel could see, the robots and guards had all been killed. Touching the brakes, Axel brought the tank to a juddering halt. “You think it’s safe to get out?” Adam asked. Axel shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out.” Adam paused. “I don’t suppose you’re volunteering.” “Somebody’s got to drive the tank,” said Axel. “You go.” Adam readied his M-16. he flipped open the turret of the T-90, and put the barrel of his gun out first. Was anyone out there waiting to take a shot at him? He waited, counting to five. Nothing. With one swift movement, he hauled himself out of the tank, and jumped down to the ground, keeping his finger poised on the trigger of his M-16 as he did so. There was blood spilt across the ground: from a quick glance, he reckoned at least a dozen men had been killed by the two shells, and seven robots. “Clear,” he shouted towards the tank. The others climbed out, leaping to the ground by his side. Blaze coughed smoke, filling her lungs with a deep breath of fresh air. “Dr. Dahm’s laboratory,” Zan observed, a sly smile coming over his features. Axel nodded, pressing a fresh magazine into his M-16. “Our appointment is way past due. Let’s go.”

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36

Into the Fire

Axel steadied himself, held his gun in front of him, then kicked the broken door open and stepped over the threshold into a brightly lit corridor. At the far end, a security door was loosely hanging off its hinges, badly damaged by the shockwave of the explosion. They went down steps and marched to the end of the corridor, passing through the security door unchallenged. They found themselves in a huge underground computer room, with dozens of terminals arranged on workbenches. There was nobody around. Along the thick glass wall at the back there was a set of sensitive measuring equipment, and behind that a control room. “Through there,” Axel whispered, keeping his M-16 close to his chest. They moved through the main room, hearing the quiet electronic hum of computer terminals that were glowing on the desks, and down below they heard the gushing of water from burst pipes. They reached the door to the control room and stepped through, then saw Dr. Dahm cowering in a tight ball beneath his desk. “Gotcha,” Axel said. Dahm was wearing a white overall and thick glasses, and his grey hair protruded from the sides of his head in a ridiculous style. “Come out, you bastard,” said Axel, tapping the man’s ankle with the tip of his M-16. The man didn’t move. “I said, come out, you bastard. Unless you want your foot shot off.” Slowly, the man emerged. He looked nervously at Axel, then Blaze, then across to Adam, Zan and Musashi. His eyes were tired and wary. “Don’t kill me,” he pleaded. “For the love of God, please don’t kill me!” “Actually,” Axel told him, backing off a little with the M-16, “we just want information. We need to know what this ‘Phase Three’ of Project Y is all about.” Dahm licked his lips, his eyes darting between them rapidly. “Ah… yes. I can tell you everything you need to know, but I’m afraid you’re far too late to do anything about it…” Axel frowned, then glanced at Blaze. She returned his concerned gaze, then took a deep breath then said, “What are you talking about?” “The third phase of Project Y was the construction of a Battlegroup of thousands of Y Robots,” Dahm said, managing to resist the urge to grin with pride. “To be used to completely overwhelm the world’s military forces, destroy all traces of government and civilisation, in order to usher in the utopian New World envisioned by Mr. X…” His expression was deadly serious, and he folded his arms across his chest. “I’m afraid the Battlegroup was launched over fourteen hours ago, and is already attacking major cities all over the world. Now, in a matter of mere hours, this world, as you know it, will cease to function.” “You lie,” Musashi hissed, a wave of fear and nausea passing over him.

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Dahm raised his eyebrows. “I’m afraid not, good sir. While you people have been ‘busying’ yourselves with invading this fortress, the Y Robots have begun their systematic assault on the rest of the world. It’s all over the news channels, you know. I can prove it to you, if you’ll allow me…” He motioned towards a bank of monitors behind him. Axel raised his M-16. “Very well. But move slowly.” Dahm nodded, then turned and punched a command into his control console. The bank of monitors spluttered to life, each of them showing live television news broadcasts. “Oh, my God,” Blaze breathed, her jaw dropping open. On the screens, they were seeing live footage of Y Robots engaged in battle with military aircraft, laying waste to entire populations of innocent civilians, toppling Neo London skyscrapers, and levelling historic monuments from all corners of the globe. No, Blaze thought, tears forming in her eyes. This can’t be happening! It was a horrific sight, and it made her stomach turn. “This is unreal!” she blurted, her eyes fixed on the monitors. One of them showed a Y Robot hovering in the air above the Great Pyramids of Giza in Egypt. It raised its right arm, blasting its railguns downward, and they could do nothing but watch in absolute horror, as all three Pyramids exploded in a blast of sandstone, fire and dust. “Jesus Christ!” Adam howled. “How do we stop this?” Dahm stared at him, and for a moment was unable to speak. Axel screwed his face up, his finger itching on the trigger of his M-16. “Talk!” he shouted. “Or I’ll kill you now! Can we stop these things?” “Henry, please!” Zan roared. Dahm swallowed, hesitating for a moment, sweat beading on his forehead. “Well… there is only one way to stop the onslaught,” he said. “It requires a -” There was a sudden crack of gunfire, and Dahm was cut off mid-sentence, his chest imploding. His eyes bulged out of their sockets, and he spluttered blood. Someone had shot him… Axel spun round, his eyes desparately searching in the direction the shot had came from. Ash was standing behind them, holding a .44 Magnum, grinning like a lunatic. “You!” Axel growled. Dr. Dahm’s eyes rolled upward in their sockets, and he collapsed, dead before he hit the floor. Ash grinned, watching Dahm fall, then his gaze went to Axel. “You won’t stop my Master’s plan from unfolding,” Ash spat. “I’m afraid I cannot allow that…” Zan frowned. “You just killed the Syndicate’s top scientist…” Ash shrugged. “He served his purpose. He was no longer of any use to us. Better to kill him now than to allow him to start blabbing… about how to stop the Y Robots…” “Fucker!” Blaze hissed, and threw her hands forward. An invisible wave of energy passed through the air and knocked Ash back, sending him flying head over heels. Musashi charged forward, sending his right foot sailing into Ash’s face. The man’s nose cracked and started pouring blood. Musashi wasted no time, batting the .44 Magnum away from Ash’s hand with a fist, and then launching the other fist at his freshly broken nose.

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Ash screamed. In a sudden desparate move, he pressed his head forward and sank his teeth into Musashi’s left arm. Musashi howled in agony, stumbling back, and Ash rolled to one side and got to his feet. “I’ll kill you!” Ash roared. Axel charged forward, bringing his knuckles together in an uppercut that struck the man firmly across his jaw, snapping teeth. “Grand Upper!” Ash cursed, blood spurting from his face. Axel leapt away, pulling Musashi with him, and shouted to Adam: “Finish him!” Adam, with his M-16 raised, squeezed the trigger. It got noisy in the laboratory. Ash, riddled with bullet holes, slumped lifelessly to the floor, his body shredded and broken. “Son of a bitch!” Blaze cursed. “Now what do we do?” Axel took a deep breath, his thoughts racing. “We keep going,” he said sternly. “We find Mr. X. We figure out how to stop this worldwide attack from happening. The clock is ticking, people…” “Guys,” Zan called nervously, “I think you’d better take a look at this…” He gestured towards a series of screens on the wall. Several of them showed what was happening on the perimeter of the laboratory right now. Musashi was already studying them. Something had caught his eye in the far right-hand corner. A grainy, slow-moving shape. “Look,” he said, pointing at the image. Axel stared at the screen. He could see the vehicle moving slowly down the main road that led up to the building. One vehicle, with a second following straight behind. A tank. “Shit,” he muttered. “It’s coming straight at us.”

***

They rushed out of the control area and through the computer room, leaving the dead bodies of Ash and Dr. Dahm behind. As they ran through the broken hallway, they could hear the rumble of tanks as they advanced on the building. Only one thought was on Axel’s mind: move as fast as you can. They climbed up on to the tank, following Axel down into the cockpit. A rapid burst of gunfire raked though the night sky. Blaze realised they’d been spotted, and the gunners in the other tanks were trying to take them down before they even got into the vehicle. “This is fucking madness,” she puffed. Adam looked at her. “It seems Ash brought some reinforcements…” Axel already had his hands on the controls of the main gun. “He’s in range!” he shouted. The main artillery gun was swivelling fast into position. A shell was already loaded, but whether is was armour-piercing, and what kind of protection their opponent had, Axel had no idea. We’re flying blind, he thought.

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Looking through the sights, he lined up the shot straight into the guts of the first tank. It was six hundred yards away now, well within range. “Take the turret,” he shouted to Adam. Axel had grabbed hold of the gears, kicked the engine into life, and the tank was starting to roll forwards. Christ, thought Adam as he took the main gun controls. Men train for years as tank gunners. None of us have any idea what we’re doing… The pair of tanks were advancing down the road with menacing resilience. Adam could see the metal of their armour emerging through the dark night air, the long artillery gun pointing straight at them. Any minute now, he thought grimly, they are going to start firing at us. “We can take them,” Axel muttered. “Fire!” Adam slammed his fist hard on the firing mechanism. He felt the skin of the T-90 shudder as the shell’s explosives charged up, then exploded with terrifying power up through the main cannon. Adam braced himself, watching as the shell started to arc in the air. Only a fraction of a second passed before it hit. Adam strained into the viewfinder, getting as close a look as possible. The shell winged the side of the first tank. It burst open, sending a cloud of fire and smoke up into the air. Flames were spilling out across the snow, but the tank was still rolling forwards. Its side was battered, and the right side track was smouldering, but it was still operable. And it was about to retaliate. “Try again,” muttered Axel. The T-90 started to automatically load another shell. As the shell started to winch itself into position, Adam could see the cannon on the first tank swinging towards them. It was levering gently upwards as the tank rolled forward. The machine was only five hundred yards from them. Shit, Adam thought to himself, as he tried to get his own gun lined up with the moving target. That guy knows what he’s doing. Which is more than can be said for us… As he heard the explosion of the shell leaving the cannon, Adam winced. There was no time to follow the arc of the missile, or to plan a reaction. The shell had already travelled through the air, and impacted with the turret of their T-90. the top armour of the tank took the main force of the blow, knocking the cannon clean away, and the explosion ripped off a sheet of metal armour. The cramped, poky interior of the tank was filled with fire and smoke. Adam could feel an intense heat searing the surface of his skin, and the air was thick with black fumes. He could already smell diesel pouring from the machine’s fuel tank. We’ve only got seconds, he thought desparately. Then this thing is going to blow. “Fuck!” Blaze screamed, coughing violently. Through the black smoke, Adam could no longer see the others. His right hand shot up, and he clamped it down on the twisted surface of the tank’s armour. It scalded the skin on the palm of his hand, but he had no choice. He had to level himself out of the tank. His eyes were streaming with tears from the tinging smoke, but he ignored the pain, and with one effort pulled himself upwards. Then he reached down and pulled Blaze out next, followed by Musashi and then Zan. One by one they rolled their bodies across the burning surface of the tank. With a desparate thud they landed on the ground. “Axel! Axel!” Blaze shouted. “Where the fuck are you?!” For a moment there was silence, and they feared that he’d been killed.

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Then, he emerged from the thick clouds of smoke swirling around the tank. His face was black and sweaty, and there was a trickle of blood down the side of his chest where he had taken a flesh wound to the shoulder. “Right here!” he coughed. “I suggest we run like hell. The next shell is coming straight for us.” They started running, around the tank, towards the side road leading away from the building. It was impossible to see exactly where they were going, or what might be laying ahead of them. They twisted past a couple of warehouses, and the imposing shape of the main fortress started to loom ahead of them in the darkness. A huge roar struck through the night air, followed by a flash of brilliant white light. The shell must have struck the ground twenty or thirty yards behind them. But still the force of the impact was deadly. The ground started to quiver and shake, and in the next instant a huge pile of mud and smoke was thrown up into the air, filled with noxious fumes. Blaze could feel herself being thrown forward by the wave of hot air radiating from where the shell had impacted. The flames spitting out from the crater ignited the diesel spilling from the T-90, and with a sudden deafening roar the tank exploded, sending a ball of fire rippling up into the sky. The explosion was followed by a wave of secondary blasts, like a series of bubble popping, as the shells inside the tank were detonated one by one. Axel threw himself to the ground. As the tank went up in smoke, shrapnel was spitting through the air: tiny shards of razor-sharp metal were flying everywhere, each one with the power to slice your arm off. Within seconds, the hailstorm had subsided. Axel glanced anxiously at the others. “I’m okay,” Blaze gasped, looking anything but. Adam nodded. “I am uninjured,” Musashi said, appearing slightly shaken up. Zan gave Axel a thumbs-up. He was fine. “We’ve got to keep moving,” Axel said, but before he was even able to finish his sentence, they heard the sound of dozens of footsteps, approaching fast. Shit… Shocked and disorientated from the explosions, they could do little more than lay there in the snow and watch, as a group of twenty X-Robots emerged and surrounded them in a circle, aiming their weapons menacingly. “X-Robots!” Blaze hissed. “This is not good!” The robots did not open fire, only stood there, threatening to shoot. “Freeze!” one of them shouted. Blaze swallowed dryly, her breath coming in short gasps. “Come quietly now,” the X Robot said. “Or we will kill you…”

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37

Memento Mori

Leon Shiva took a deep breath as he stepped out of the elevator, then marched quickly through the Level B-5 entryway with Rudra following close behind him. The sign above the entryway read: B-5 CLONING FACILITY ! RESTRICTED AREA ! AUTHORIZATION A-1/a ONLY


From above and all around them, they heard the muted sound of explosions and gunfire as the battle raged on over the mountain surface, in and around the fortress pertimeter. The incendiary blasts of distant tank shells igniting caused the walls around them to vibrate and crumble, even this far beneath the tortured surface. Shiva walked steadily into the corridor. It was much wider than any of the other passages they had passed through, and there was only a light bulb every ten yards, making the light murky and dim. One wall had stencilled doors, offices and R+D labs… SUPERVISOR… DIRECTOR… RESEARCH AREA 1… RESEARCH AREA 2… Immediately in front of them there was an array of equipment arranged neatly on the shelves of a steel-framed unit: tubes and wires, fuse boxes and tongs. On one shelf there was a set of surgical instruments, most of them stained with blood. On another, there were the thick straps of leather used to tie electrical circuits on to a man’s skin, and a bunch of chemicals and hypodermic syringes. On a third was a series of thumbscrews and presses designed to break the bones on a hand or foot. Jesus, thought Shiva. That’s the kit they use to experiment on the faulty homo universalis clones who get grown down here. This is where Mr. X was reborn. No wonder he’s such a cantankorous old bastard. Then again, I was reborn here too… “You okay, Leon?” Rudra asked, looking concerned. “Just fine,” Shiva muttered. “Coming back in here, I mean…” Shiva gritted his teeth. “It’s a bit spooky, Kagami, to tell you the truth. But we’re here to destroy all traces of the research, along with all of Mr. X’s clone bodies, and we haven’t much time before somebody detects our presence here. I’d just like to concentrate on the task at hand, if you don’t mind. …” Rudra nodded, but didn’t say anything. They continued walking. The light was just good enough to see by. The corridor stretched off for about a hundred yards, driven deep under the ground. Every

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ten yards, it broke off, with a small passageway leading to a group of six cells, each containing cryogenic tanks with dormant homo universalis clones in storage. “You take the left, I’ll take the right,” hissed Shiva, handing her one of the M136s he carried. The M-136 was a portable one-shot anti-tank missile launcher, and was perfectly suited to the swift destruction of every single last one of the clones being stored here. If they acted quickly, they could total the place in a matter of minutes, and Mr. X’s dreams of eternal life would be screwed forever. “Let’s do what has to be done,” Rudra breathed, taking the M-136 and disappearing down the left hand corridor. Moving into the first block of cells on the right, Shiva adjusted his eyes to the pale light. Checking his watch, he could see that it was well past midnight now. The battle on the surface had been raging for over three hours, with no sign of letting up. A little extra noise and damage down here would probably go unnoticed… He turned into the first cell, and there, right before him, was a huge rack of two dozen or so cryogenic tanks connected by tubing, each containing a homo universalis clone submerged in synthethic fluid. None of the clones were awake, all of them being completely mindless, blank, cold and soulless, until the point when Mr. X’s consciousness was to be transferred into them, one by one, between deaths. As a result of the Syndicate’s genetic engineering, they were nothing more than shells, living dolls, waiting to be filled with the soul of Socharis. One couldn’t even feel pity for them. Aside from breathing and a heartbeat, they weren’t even alive. The cryogenic technology was experimental at best, and certainly had its fair share of teething problems. Some of the clones appeared to be wasting away, reduced to little more than skeletons. Shiva could see the ribs sticking out of their chests. Some of them looked ridden with disease, their bodies covered with scabs and boils, and many had missing limbs. Those would be the ones classed as ‘faulty’ and taken off to be experimented on, then burned. Only the ‘perfect’ clones would be chosen as new bodies for Mr. X. Pity that’s never going to happen, Shiva thought cynically, raising his M-136 and adjusting the plastic sights. He then disengaged the two safeties, cocked a mechanical firing pin and pressed the trigger button. In less than a second, the HighExplosive Anti-Tank missile shot from the barrel and whooshed toward the cloning tanks, detonating on impact. Shiva leapt to the ground as the missile exploded, completely destroying all the cryogenic tanks and their unholy contents, along with a sizeable portion of the wall behind. He covered his head as shrapnel and millions of tiny fragments of glass and gunk rained down around him, the cell filling with black smoke. When he lifted his head, he grinned at his handiwork. In place of the clones, there was now a huge smoking crater and several fires burning. He picked himself up, looking around. In the distance, he heard the noise of Rudra’s M-136 starting its slaughter of the clones on the west wing. He took a deep breath, then made his way down the corridor to the next cell, loading another H.E.A.T missile into his weapon. It felt good, now that he was finally doing it, actually taking matters into his own hands and working to take down Mr. X. For so long, he’d felt unable to do this, had felt paralysed and devoid of hope, ever since the death of Electra. But since his sister, Kagami, had come back into his life, it had reignited that spark of hope deep inside him, that hope of being able to make things right, the way he wanted them to be…

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What he wanted now was to lay the memory of the good man who was once Mr. X finally to rest…even if he had been a lying bastard… And the only way to do that was by killing the monstrosity that existed today, the monstrosity that was Socharis… Mr. X died a long time ago, Shiva thought as he opened fire on the next set of clones, destroying them in a blast of fire. And I will make sure he stays that way for good! Within fifteen minutes of the first missile being fired, the homo universalis Project was no more, reduced to nothing but a smouldering, smoking ruin.

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38

And Hell Followed

Someone threw a bucket of water into Blaze’s face, waking her up. She gasped, struggling for air. “Welcome back to the land of the living,” a man’s voice said. A short and stocky Syndicate punk wearing a denim jacket was standing over her, looking down into her scared and frightened eyes. “Now, if you want to stay in it for more than another minute, I have a simple piece of advice for you. Shut your mouth.” Blaze swallowed, blinking water out of her eyes. “Where am I?” she mumbled, looking around desparately. She was lying on the floor of some vast underground chamber, at least four hundred feet in diameter. It appeared to be a cave beneath the surface of the mountain that had been retrofitted with stainless steel floors, a ceiling with light fixtures far above, and suspended walkways overhead with iron hand railings. The entire cavern was trembling, vibrating with the battle going on far above. Dust and dirt slithered through cracks in the rock, and the light fixtures were swinging lightly, casting moving shadows. She tried to move, but found that she couldn’t. Her hands and feet were bound with strong rope, making it impossible to do anything but squirm slightly. Cursing silently to herself, she turned her head and watched as the Syndicate punk threw buckets of water over Axel, Adam and Musashi, who were similarly bound and lying on the ground close beside her. Axel coughed, coming around, and his eyes widened as he took in his new surroundings. “Where the hell are we?” he demanded. “And where’s Zan?” “Ah, he’s recharging…” The Syndicate punk grinned, and pointed one finger to the walkway suspended directly above them. They looked, and saw Zan sitting lifelessly up there, deactivated. Musashi raised an eyebrow, and looked sternly into the eyes of the orangehaired punk, who seemed a little too pleased with himself for his own good. “What’s going on here?” he asked. Then, to their left, a mechanically-controlled door slid open suddenly, and the ominous figure of Mr. X stormed into the chamber. He was wearing some kind of advanced suit of armour, with tentacle-like ‘snake arms’. The suit whirred with his movements, and as he moved closer, a big grin formed across his features. “Well, well, well. Talk. Report!” X barked. The punk, named Talk, licked his lips and bowed slightly. “My Lord, apparently Firestorm were trying to infiltrate the main fortress in one of our mammoth tanks.” He took a sharp, deep breath. “Luckily for us, a group of X-Robots was able to apprehend them before they got too far…” X smiled, nodding to himself as if he understood something. “Very good, Talk. Now leave us. Join the battle on the surface. I will deal with Firestorm myself…” Talk kicked to attention, then saluted. “Yes, my Lord!” Then he swiftly made his way out the door that X had entered through, and was gone.

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Mr. X watched him go, then returned his gaze to the helpless members of Firestorm before him. “You made a big mistake coming here,” he told them. “I warned you not to confront me a second time!” Blaze swallowed, her aura raging inside her. “Are you going to kill us?” she asked bluntly. X grinned, savouring the moment. “Of course I’m going to kill you. But not immediately. Not while you’re all tied up like this, oh no. I want to play a game…” Axel frowned. “What do you mean, a ‘game’?” X chuckled. “I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to use my new battle armour for some time.” He spread his arms, allowing the three mechanical tentacles attached to the suit’s exterior to coil and move independently of each other. One of the tentacles stretched across to Adam, and in a swift motion cut the ropes on his hands and feet. A second later, another tentacle shot towards him and grabbed him around the neck, lifting him from the ground. Adam cursed, trying to use his hands to free himself from the tentacle’s vicelike grip, but the thing was way too strong. He dangled helplessly in X’s grip, his face turning red. “Do you like my armour, Mr. Hunter?” X taunted, then the tentacle holding Adam coiled sharply to its right, releasing its grip. Adam flew across the chamber and landed head first on the ground. “I’ll remove all the bindings restricting your movements,” X told them. “Only then will we fight to the death. But I must warn you Blaze… my powered exoskeleton is resistant to fireball damage. The suit was designed by Dr. Dahm, and utilises much of the technology developed for the new Robot Y, notably the artificial muscle tissue. You will stand no chance against me. Oh yes, there will be blood!” X roared, and before Blaze knew what had happened, one of his tentacles had whipped its way across them and cut all the ropes from their arms and legs. “Let the game begin!” In an instant, Musashi was on his feet, launching his fists into the suit’s midsection. Mr. X laughed, then delivered a powerful backhander to Musashi’s face, knocking him down. He turned to Axel and said, “Give it your best shot, you moron!” Axel’s nostrils flared. If you insist, he thought. He stepped forward, clenched the rippling muscles in his right arm, then scooped his fist down to the ground, lifting it in an almighty uppercut. “Grand Upper!” He caught Mr. X’s suit just below the neckline. X stumbled back from the sheer force of the blow, and for a split second, Axel could see he had caused damage to the suit. Then it was gone, as the nanofibres worked to instantly repair it. “Shit…” Axel breathed, then just managed to dodge as X suddenly jolted forward, propelled by an integrated accelerator in his suit which left a trail of fire behind him. Wasting no time, X turned, sending one of his robotic tentacles sailing into Axel’s face. Something cracked, and Axel went down in a pool of blood. Jesus fucking Christ, Adam thought as he got to his feet, watching X move. That suit is a force to be reckoned with… Blaze screamed, her aura burning inside, far too much to control now. She lifted her arms, summoning a huge blue fireball, then threw it towards X. The fireball caught his suit on his left shoulderblade, but dispersed harmlessly around it, exactly as he had promised. She frowned, sweat beginning to bead on her forehead. How do we stop this fucker now?

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X turned to look at her, and lazily snapped up a side kick, knocking her back. “You insult me, Blaze,” he hissed. Now, Musashi was back on his feet, and was charging toward X from the other direction, unsheathing his katana. I will avenge Kato, he thought as he brought the weapon to bear. And Max Hatchett, and Skate Hunter… When he was within range, he swung the sword, and it cut into the side of X’s suit, getting stuck in the metal fibres. Unable to free the sword, Musashi was forced to let go. Seconds later, the suit’s nanofibres got to work, and the blade of the katana shattered into millions of tiny pieces, the handgrip dropping to the ground like a piece of useless trash. My father’s sword! Musashi gasped, tears immediately forming in his eyes, suddenly letting his guard down. X laughed and ploughed his fist forward as hard as he could, knocking Musashi back across the room, into a metal support beam. Something cracked in Musashi’s back, and he went silent. “I’m enjoying this game,” X taunted. “But now I’m raising the stakes even higher…” All three of his tentacles aligned themselves with each other, pointing toward the spot where Axel had gone down, then the ‘mouths’ of the tentacles retracted. X cackled, then suddenly missiles fired from each tentacle in a blast of fire and smoke. Axel’s mind went into overload as he leapt backward, narrowly avoiding explosive death. The three missiles ploughed into the ground where he’d been a moment before, sending fire roaring upward in a colossal orange ball. An alarm klaxon start screeching somewhere overhead. X turned, aiming his tentacles toward Blaze. She started running, weaving between support beams that held up the elevated walkway. Adam roared, now somewhat recovered, and started running at X from the side. He jumped, bringing his arms across X’s chest in an attempt to drag him down to the floor. Using his weight, he managed to get X to stumble slightly, down onto one knee. Axel came at him from the left, sending a flying kick straight to X’s exposed head. X cursed, the impact of Axel’s foot causing him pain. Then he seemed to get even angrier, swinging both arms back and cracking both Axel and Adam across their jaws. As they stumbled back, he propelled himself forward with his suit’s accelerator, then fired missiles toward Blaze, who was still running beneath the suspended walkway. She gasped as the missiles blasted and exploded around her. She fell to the ground, all the air being sucked out of her lungs. There was the hideous sound of metal groaning. Fire was everywhere, distorting her vision. Then she inhaled smoke, forcing her to cough violently. The suspended walkway began to falter, some of its support beams destroyed by the missiles’ impact. Blaze screamed as several sections of the walkway above collapsed down on her, pinning her to the ground. With no time to lose, she called upon all of her homo superior strength and threw a fireball directly upward, blasting a hole through the wreckage that trapped her. Then when the way was clear, she leapt through the hole and landed on her feet beside Musashi, who was groaning on the floor nearby, delirious. She looked back toward the wreckage, and saw that Zan’s lifeless form had fallen to the ground… Zan! she thought excitedly. That has to be it! The reason they deactivated him!

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She looked toward X, saw that he was fighting Axel and Adam again, then quickly moved across to Zan, pressing the activation switch beneath his neck. The lights on his chest blinked on, and there was a computerised beep. His head made a rattling sound, then he sat up rubbing his head, blinking as if he’d just awoken from a bad dream. “What goes on?” he asked. Then he saw Mr. X, and he got to his feet swiftly. Across the chamber, X was laughing. “Can’t you do any better than this, Stone?” He was blocking Axel’s flurry attack with relative ease, toying with the excop rather than making any real effort to fight back. Adam came at him from behind in a flying kick then, but somehow X was already aware of the attack, and ducked out of the way. Adam’s kick smacked Axel straight in the chest, knocking him down. “Hahahaha!” X scoffed, then cracked Adam over his head with the base of his fist. Adam went down. Then, in a blur of movement, Zan raced across the chamber towards X, charging up his electrical attack. When he was within range, he threw his arms forward, sending forth as many volts as he could physically muster. “Powerup!” The electrical charge zapped across X’s suit, catching him completely by surprise. “Noooo!” X roared as the electrical current passed through him. The nanofibres in his suit overloaded and burst, expensive circuits frying and smoking. Within seconds, his previously invincible suit had been reduced to a clunking hulk of useless heavy metal. “No! No! No!” he spat. “Game over,” Axel puffed, getting to his feet. X closed his eyes in desparation, then used a wave of telekinetic energy to send Zan, Axel and Adam flying back to a safer distance. They landed beside Blaze and Musashi in a heap. Then, as X manipulated the energy around him, the suit began to fall off piece by piece, the components obeying his every mental command. “The time for games is finished,” he whispered to himself. When the suit had completely melted away, Mr. X was left standing there dressed in nothing but a pair of black suit pants. “I don’t need the fucking suit to kill you with!” X roared, pointing a finger accusingly, the veins in his forehead bulging with anger. “I’ll fight you on your own level!” He charged forward, going in for the kill.

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39

The Last Fight

Blaze summoned a fireball, then threw it towards X. He motioned with his right hand, sending the fireball back towards her. Blaze countered, waving a palm forward, and the fireball was deflected upwards, where it sailed into the ceiling, smashing rock, plaster and metal. Mr. X moved quickly, running toward Blaze, then used his fists to pummel her to the ground. “No!” Axel shouted. He threw his arms forward, grabbing X’s back, sending his right knee slamming into the man’s butt. X howled, then twisted his body and delivered a spinning kick that hit Axel in the gut. Axel stumbled back slightly, and then X launched a purple fireball toward him. The fireball caught Axel squarely across both legs, sending him crashing down onto the floor. Axel whimpered, now seriously low on energy… Musashi moved, going in to deliver a powerful chop to X’s neck, but X was too fast. He turned and made a gesture, sending an invisible wave of energy forward, knocking Musashi flying back and smashing into a wall, then sent his other fist smashing into Adam’s face. Adam howled, clutching his face. His nose was broken, and his head was throbbing with all kinds of pain. X sent another two punches to Adam’s face, drawing unhealthy amounts of blood, then gestured again, hurling the disorientated man flying back alongside Musashi. Zan brought his arms forward, beginning to unleash his electrical attack again, but this time Mr. X was prepared for it, dodging to one side and summoning a purple fireball. He cackled, throwing the fireball into the power supply on Zan’s back just as the android was releasing his electrical overload. The impact of the fireball caused Zan’s systems to go haywire, overload exponentially, and then there was a small explosion across the back of his body. “Fatal exception,” Zan murmured, then collapsed to the floor, smoke pouring out from his robotic nose and mouth. “No!” Blaze hissed. They were losing the battle. Mr. X had barely even worked up a sweat this whole time, and they were virtually finished, were bruised and battered and so tired… Mr. X, smiling like a megalomaniacal dictator, stood over the five fallen members of Firestorm and laughed heartily, almost frothing at the mouth. “You cannot kill me,” he said. “Even if you were to somehow kill this body, I would simply resurrect in one of my clones… I am God now! “ X raised his arms, preparing to deliver the final blow. Blaze stared up at him, tears in her eyes, and a look of absolute terror across her face. “Young fool…” X beamed, “Only now, at the end, do you understand!” Then, just as he was about to kill them, the mechanical door at the side of the room slid open. A voice suddenly called,

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“Mr. X! Stop this! Now!” X frowned, and turned to look at the source of the noise. Leon Shiva and Rudra marched into the chamber, carrying weapons. “Leon! Rudra!” X shouted. “What is this outrage?” Rudra was holding a handgun. Without speaking nor hesitating, she raised it toward Mr. X and pulled the trigger four times. Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! The shots blasted straight into Mr. X’s chest, knocking him away from the downed members of Firestorm, who were slowly managing to climb back to their feet. X roared with anger, blood pouring from the bullet wounds on his chest. “Traitors! How dare you betray me? What is the meaning of this?” Shiva took two steps toward him, clenching his fists. “Mr. X, it’s over for you now. Rudra and I have destroyed the homo universalis cloning facility. Once we have killed you here, now, you will be dead forever.” “We cannot allow you to go through with your deranged plan,” Rudra added, looking pissed off. X spat a mouthful of blood at the ground, then clenched his teeth, fuming. “My clones? Destroyed? This is outrageous! You belong to me! I order you to kill Firestorm!” Shiva shook his head. “I’m afraid not, sir. You are a liar and a coward. This has to end now. I will no longer serve the wishes of a man who has manipulated everyone around him to suit his own twisted will…” Rudra smirked. “Without your clones, you will stand no chance against us…” “Traitors!” X barked. “So be it! I will have no choice but to kill all of you!” “Your overconfidence is your weakness,” Rudra told him. “You cannot hope to defeat Leon and I, and Firestorm as well…” X grinned like a maniac. “I am Socharis! I can do anything! I am God!” He began running towards Shiva, snorting like a stark pig. Shiva cracked his knuckles, preparing for the fight. So it begins… he thought.

***

Shiva launched his fist toward X. It caught him straight in the face, knocking him back. X grinned, then delivered a powerful kick to Shiva’s stomach. Shiva gasped, stumbling back slightly, then roared, beginning to summon a dark red fireball that danced around his right arm. He threw the fireball forward, and it smashed into X’s chest. X fell back, startled. He was sweating, his teeth clenched, the anger inside him almost oozing from every pore. “I expected more from you, Leon,” he said hatefully. “For all these years you have served the cause of Operation Shadow Hand, I never thought it would really come to this…” He summoned a purple fireball and threw it toward Shiva. Shiva motioned with one hand, deflecting the fireball harmlessly, then dashed forward with lightning speed and slammed his body to the ground at X’s feet. In less than a second, his body contorted, and he sent his right leg shooting upward, his foot catching X on his lower jaw.

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“Final Crash!” X grunted, some of his teeth smashing from the impact. He threw his arms down, smacking Shiva across the head. Rudra dashed forward then, delivering a vertical kick. It caught X across his abdomen, but X countered quickly with a powerful backhander. Rudra span and fell back, surprised by the sheer force of the attack. Shiva leapt back to his feet, summoning another red fireball. X laughed and summoned a fireball of his own, then the two of them launched at each other, using their homo universalis powers in an attempt to defeat each other’s will. The fireballs hovered in mid-air between them, caught in a ghostly lock of invisible energy. Shiva was sweating from his brow, trying his damndest to force his fireball forward, but X’s willpower was too strong. He lost control, and both fireballs blasted back at Shiva, knocking him to the ground. “You traitorous fool,” X scoffed. “When I am finished with you, I will destroy the military forces on the surface, then claim the new Empire being laid down by my Y Robots across the world. Nothing will stop me!” Axel, battered and tired yet unable to stand by and watch, ran forward suddenly, sending his fists raging into X’s gut. X was caught by surprise, his attention focused on Shiva. As Axel moved, the air was beaten forcefully from X’s gut, slowing him down. Axel wasted no time, bringing his right foot forward sharply and kicking X hard in the groin. X’s eyes bulged, pain thundering through his system. Rudra went to join Axel, and the two of them used their fists and feet to beat Mr. X further back across the chamber. Thinking fast, Blaze reached a hand up to Shiva, who was back on his feet. “Shiva, help me up,” she called. Shiva turned his head to look at her. He hesitated for a second, then reached his arm down and lifted her sharply to her feet beside him. Blaze took deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves and the conflicting emotions that raged through her system. “Shiva,” she said. “Only we can defeat him. With our combined powers… together!” Shiva nodded quickly. “I understand.” X growled, punching Axel in the face with a strength born of desparation. Axel fell back. “Rudra!” Shiva shouted. “Get out of the way!” Rudra turned, and saw that both Shiva and Blaze were summoning their fireball powers simultaneously, their combined auras melding and forming one huge ‘superfireball’. She gasped, then made a jump out of harm’s way, narrowly avoiding a kick from Mr. X, who had become blind with insane rage. Blaze and Shiva stood, surrounded by an intense green light, as their combined homo superior and homo universalis auras developed into a crackling, raging, huge green fireball. As one being, they threw their arms forward, sending the superfireball tearing through the air towards X. “Go to Hell, motherfucker!” Blaze roared, her eyes glowing with intense white light. The superfireball smashed across X’s body, completely engulfing him in its mass. He roared, “NOOOO! NO!” He screamed as loud as he could. The superfireball pierced X’s body with the hard brightness of an inconceivable diamond, a light beyond the sorrowful limitations of any precious stone. It carved at his heart, shattered him. And it was more than a light - it was a weapon, a force, that drove

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through X and lit him with the power of a billion candles: he was white, orange, blue, savaged by this electricity that stormed from the superfireball. The power absorbed him. Then his eyes disintegrated in the sockets, leaving black sightless holes, and his skin began to peel from the bone, curling back as if seized by a sudden leprosy, rotting, burning, scorched, blackened. And still he screamed. Then he turned into something inhuman, pure energy, something that turned, silently, into a layer of dust.

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40

Empire’s End

Mr. X was dead. Blaze stood there, breathing heavily, not quite sure of what to make of the situation. Beside her, Shiva turned to look at her, seemingly lost for words. Rudra helped Axel to his feet, and then they both rushed to help Adam and Musashi, who were still injured and barely conscious. “I’m okay,” Adam managed, his face covered in blood. “Master Musashi?” Musashi nodded, wincing from pain issuing from a broken collarbone. “I will be fine.” Axel bent to examine Zan. He was offline and seriously damaged, but could be repaired easily enough, once they got him to Murphy’s lab in Washington D.C. If they survived long enough, that was… “Mr. X is gone,” Rudra said. “He has no clones left…” “What’s important now is that we stop this so-called ‘Operation Shadow Hand’,” Axel said matter-of-factly. That got through to Blaze. She blinked, then turned her head to look at Shiva, who still seemed to be in shock. “You know how to stop the Y Robots, right?” she asked. “Shiva?” Shiva licked his lips, thinking fast. “I… yes. Yes, of course. They can be shut down all at once via the satellite control system. All it requires is a member of the Syndicate Council of Nine to give voice authorisation. If I’m not mistaken, I’m the only person left alive who can do that… We need to get to Dr. Dahm’s laboratory as soon as we can.” Axel nodded. “Then let’s get moving. This isn’t over ‘till it’s over. “

*** In Dr. Dahm’s underground control room, Leon Shiva punched buttons on the main console. On the screen above them, a map of the world showed the positions of every Y Robot currently causing devastation around the globe. “I only hope we’re not too late,” Blaze breathed. “Computer,” Shiva barked, his attention focused intently on the screen. “Abort Operation Shadow Hand immediately. Authorisation Shiva: Leon Alpha Two-SixFive…” There was a whirring sound from the main console, and the computer spoke back in a dry, monotonous voice: “Voice authorisation confirmed. Y Robot shutdown in progress.” Across the world map on the screen, the little red blips representing Y Robots began to blink out, whole groups of them at a time. After a tense couple of minutes, the computer’s voice announced, “Shutdown complete.”

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On the bank of monitors beside the console, they saw live footage of the infernal machines stopping mid-battle, collapsing to the ground, their immense bulks heaving to a stop like puppets without their strings. “It’s done,” Shiva said, letting his breath out in a heavy sigh. “It’s finally over.” For a moment, there was silence. “Thank Christ,” Adam said, grinning. Axel swallowed dryly, nodding. “I never thought I’d say this, Shiva, but thanks… we couldn’t have done this without you…” Blaze took a deep breath. “Yeah… I guess you’ve turned over a new leaf, huh? Finally seen some sense?” Rudra smiled. Shiva turned to Blaze and nodded, bowing slightly. “Indeed I have, Blaze.” Blaze gasped, almost laughing. “Wow!” she blurted. “You actually called me ‘Blaze!’” Shiva nodded. “I have accepted you for who you are now, Blaze. You and I are very much alike, especially with our ‘superhuman’ powers. Ultimately, we’re both the victims of Mr. X’s terrible schemes… It’s just taken me two lifetimes to see that.” He moved across to Rudra and placed one arm around her back. “And the help of my long-lost sister, Kagami Shiva.” Axel raised his eyebrows. “I’m happy for you, Shiva. I really am. But we are going to have to place you both under arrest now, you do realise that, right?” Shiva nodded. “Of course,” he said, holding out his hands. “We will come willingly.” “Yes,” Rudra said. “We did the right thing by taking down Mr. X… gave everyone on this planet a chance of freedom from tyranny, and destroyed the enemy within. If we resist arrest now, we’d only be moving backwards…” Adam raised his eyebrows. “Never thought I’d see the day…” Blaze sighed, staring into Axel’s deep blue eyes. “Well, we saved mankind, yet again. Can we go home now, Axel?” He smiled, then laughed, relieved that it was finally all over. “Yes,” he told her. “Yes, Blaze. I think we can.”

***

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the President of the New World Order. It is my great pleasure, and relief, to announce to you that the War is finally over. “As of 0400 hours this morning, thanks to the efforts of certain courageous individuals, all attacking robotic forces were deactivated across the entire world, and the madman responsible for the attack has been rooted out and destroyed. “Our military forces are weakened, great economical and structural damage has been done to our countries, and millions of innocent people have been killed. “Though we mourn the loss of the countless people who lost their lives in this cowardly and unprovoked attack, we have survived, and we will live to repair the damage done to our world, our economy; we will rebuild our lives stronger, and more united as a people, than ever before. “This madman, who called himself ‘Socharis’, may have aimed to topple every government, weaken us, and bring us to our knees, but he has failed. In fact, his

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efforts have had the polar opposite effect. The people of Earth now remain steadfast, and our resolve to unite as one voice, has never been stronger. “History has been made on this day. Firestorm, we salute you. The world is, once again, forever in your debt!”

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Epilogue Unending

There is no death; there is only life-force. Life-force. He realised he was aware of life-force. He could feel it around him, within him. There is no death; there is only life-force. With a shock, he realised that he was no longer immersed in darkness. He was aware, thinking, feeling. Like waking from a long, deep meditation, he was slowly beginning to acknowledge himself again. He was separate from the darkness now; he could feel it. No longer was he a drop of water in an endless ocean. He was a rock upon a shore, the water flowing around him. George Xetheus. My name is George Xetheus. No, my name was George Xetheus. That life is gone now. I am not that man any longer. I am dead… But he was not, his mind answered. He was alive again, his body reminded him. His body! His eyes flashed open. He could see the blue sky above him, wisps of white clouds floating by. Impossible! How could this be? He died, he remembered dying. He felt his body gasp for air. Damn fool, he berated himself, you’ve forgotten how to breathe! He’d forgotten he needed to breathe. He took in a deep breath and let it out. Impossible, it may have been, but that felt good. An insect buzzed annoyingly close to his face. He saw a hand reach out to swat the insect away. He stopped; it was his hand, he realised. He stared at it, fascinated. He willed his hand to make a fist and it did. In awe, he opened his hand again and turned it back and forth in front of his eyes. Cautiously, carefully, mindfully, he put his hand to the ground beside him and pushed himself up until he was sitting. He was in a grassy clearing near a slow running stream. There was no one around him, no buildings, no vehicles. He listened for any sound of civilisation and heard only the water burbling, the breeze blowing through the leaves and grasses, insects buzzing. He closed his eyes for a moment and took another deep breath. He felt better than he had in years, better than he could remember feeling. This must be a dream, a hallucination. But dreams are for the living, I am dead. He didn’t feel dead. He was alive! He was... thirsty! He suddenly realised what the nagging sensation was: he needed water! Almost giddy, he brought his knees up under his weight and stood. He walked toward the stream. Is this really what it is to be alive? Everything seemed too vibrant. If I am not careful, this will overwhelm me. He knelt at the stream, cupped his hands in the water, and splashed the water over his face. He brought his hands down to the water again and froze. He looked in the water, disbelieving. This could not be his reflection. That he had a reflection at all should not be possible, but this . . . this he could barely grasp. The face that stared back at him, it was so young!

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He brought his hands up to his face, and his reflection did the same. It was him! Looking at the reflection, he guessed his age to be maybe twenty, twenty-five at the most. But all of his clones were destroyed! How was this possible? He spoke to his reflection, “George, you old fool, what have you gotten yourself into this time?” ***

Before anyone knew it, the wedding was planned, set, and ready to go. Blaze had her dress and the church was booked. They were going to get married in the church Axel’s parents had married in. It was in Los Angeles. Axel had rented a tuxedo and the invitations were sent out. A lot of people had agreed to come, and pretty soon the day was upon them. Blaze had asked Axel’s sister, Tina Stone, to be her maid of honour, and asked Joe Musashi’s wife Naoko and her sisters to be her bride’s maids. Axel had asked Adam to be his best man, while Zan would be the one to escort Blaze down the aisle. Musashi was the ring bearer. But now there were a few seconds before they left for the church and Blaze was scared stiff. “Oh god, oh god, it’s today! I’m getting married today!” Blaze said, pacing the room in her wedding dress. Tina stood by the door. “It’s okay, Blaze, you’re ready for this,” Tina said, trying to calm her down. “Remember, this is your day!” “I don’t know why I feel so nervous. I mean, I love Axel, he loves me, and we’re going to have a baby, so why the hell am I freaking out?” Blaze yelled. “It’s just nerves,” Tina said, running a hand through her shoulder-length blonde hair. Blaze looked at herself in the mirror. The dress looked lovely on her. It was white, low cut and sleeveless, and she had matching shoes and gloves. Tina looked great in her dress, too. It was green with short sleeves and it showed off her eyes. “Come on, girls, we’ve got to go, the car’s here!” Naoko yelled, racing round like a madwoman. She was even more scared than Blaze and she wasn’t even getting married. “This is it,” Blaze said, taking a deep breath. Tina smiled, and opened the bedroom door, letting Blaze go first. Naoko was waiting on the other side. “Now Blaze, calm down,” Naoko said, patting Blaze’s gloved hand. “Axel is a wonderful man; there is nothing to worry about.” “Easy for you to say,” Blaze said jokingly. “You’re not the one getting married to him!” They walked down to the car, waiting by the sidewalk outside. “Come now, this is a happy day!” Naoko added, “It’s a match made in heaven!” She opened the car’s rear passenger door and allowed Blaze to get in first. “I know, and I do love Axel,” Blaze said dreamily, looking out the car window, thinking about him. Before she knew it, they were at the church, and soon enough it was her turn to walk down the aisle.

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***

The music started and Axel turned to look behind him at the church doors. He felt just as jittery as the bride, but he had Adam and Musashi to keep him calm. When the doors opened and Blaze began her walk down the aisle toward him, accompanied by Zan, Axel’s jaw dropped. She was absolutely beautiful. When she reached the altar, she grinned, blissfully happy that they were finally about to tie the knot. “Dearly beloved,” the priest began, “we are gathered here today, to join this man, and this woman, in Holy Matrimony…” Adam smiled, tears of pride and joy beginning to form in his eyes. “If anyone gathered here today has any just cause as to why this couple should not be joined,” the priest continued, “speak now, or forever hold your peace…” There was silence. “Where are the rings?” the priest asked. Musashi quickly held them up. “Axel, repeat after me,” the priest said. Axel nodded, taking a ring from Musashi. “I, Axel Stone, take you, Blaze Fielding, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to comfort and to cherish, to love and respect, to protect and to treasure, through sickness and in health, forsaking all others, ‘till death do us part…” Axel repeated the words, placing the ring on Blaze’s exposed finger. The priest smiled, then repeated: “Blaze, repeat after me. I, Blaze Fielding, take you, Axel Stone, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to comfort and to cherish, to love and respect, to protect and to treasure, through sickness and in health, forsaking all others, ‘till death do us part…” Blaze spoke the words, placing a ring on Axel’s finger. Axel took Blaze’s hand in his own and they smiled at each other, as the wedding went on. The priest grinned. “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride!” “I know that,” Axel grinned, then moved his mouth to Blaze’s, his tongue stabbing into her mouth. The kiss went on for several moments as the crowd began cheering, and then they left the church as husband and wife. “I love you, Blaze,” he told her, kissing her again in the back of their limo. “I love you, Axel,” she smiled. Things were perfect, and they were so happy… They would spend their month-long honeymoon in Hawaii, far away from the stresses of everyday life, before returning to Firestorm Headquarters in Colorado to get back to their detective work. With a baby now on the way, they would need to be extra vigilant, and continue to take the fight where it was needed, to ensure that the next generation would no longer have to walk the… … Streets of Rage.

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BOOK VII

THE SONS OF DARKNESS

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PROLOGUE I

Sea of Okhotsk, Japan August 10, 3910 B.C.

Arik Musashi peered into the darkness and tilted his head toward the side rail as the sound of oars dipping through the water grew louder. When the noise closed to within a few feet, he slouched back into the shadows, pulling his head down low. This time the intruders would be welcomed aboard warmly, he thought with grim anticipation. The slapping of the oars ceased, but a wooden clunk told him the small boat had pulled alongside the larger vessel’s stern. The midnight moon was a slim crescent, but crystal clear skies amplified the starlight, bathing the ship in a cottony luminance. Musashi knelt quietly as he watched a dark figure climb over the stern rail, followed by another, then another, until nearly a dozen men stood on the deck. The intruders wore brightly coloured silk garments under tunics of layered leather armour that rustled as they moved. But it was the glint of their razor-sharp katanas, singleedged duelling swords, that caught his eye as they assembled. With the trap set and the bait taken, the Shinobi Master turned to a boy at his side and nodded. The boy immediately began ringing a heavy bronze bell he cradled in his arms, the metallic clang shattering the still night air. The invaders froze in their tracks, startled by the sudden alarm. Then a hidden mass of thirty armed Shinobi warriors sprang silently from the shadows. Armed with iron-tipped spears, they flung themselves at the invaders, thrusting their weapons with deadly fury. Half of the boarders were killed instantly, struck by multiple spear tips that skewered their body armour. The remaining invaders wielded their swords and tried to fight back but were quickly overpowered by the mass of defenders. Within seconds, all of the boarders lay dead or dying on the ship’s deck. All, that is, except a lone, standing dervish. Clad in an embroidered red silk robe with baggy trousers tucked into bearskin boots, he was clearly no peasant soldier. With devastating speed and accuracy, he surprised the attacking defenders by turning and running right into them, deflecting spear thrusts with quick waves of his sword. In an instant, he closed on a group of three of the ship’s defenders and quickly dropped them all to the deck with a flash of his sword, nearly cutting one man in two with a single swipe of the blade. Watching the whirlwind decimate his soldiers, Musashi jumped to his feet and unsheathed his own sword, then leaped forward. The swordsman saw Musashi charge at him and deftly parried a spear thrust aside before whirling around and plunging his bloodied sword in the path of the oncoming warrior. The Shinobi Master had killed more than a thousand men in his lifetime and calmly sidestepped the swinging blade. The sword tip whisked by his chest, missing the skin by millimeters. As his opponent’s sword passed, Musashi raised his own blade and thrust it tip first into the attacker’s side. The invader stiffened as the blade tore through his rib cage and

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bisected his heart. He bowed weakly at the Shinobi as his eyes rolled back, then he fell over dead. The defenders let out a cheer that echoed across the water, letting the rest of the assembled Jomon fleet know that the enemy attack this night had failed. “You fought bravely,” Musashi complimented his warriors, who gathered around him. “The Jomon Empire is victorious once again!” He smiled, feeling a pleasant rush of glory flow through his veins. “Throw the bodies of the enemy soldiers into the sea and let us wash their blood from our decks. We may sleep well and proud tonight.” Amid another cheer, Musashi knelt next to the samurai and pried away the bloodstained sword clasped in the dead man’s hands. In the dim light of the ship’s lanterns, he carefully studied the weapon, admiring its fine craftsmanship and razor-sharp edge, before sliding it into his own waist scabbard with a nod of satisfaction. As the dead were unceremoniously dumped over the side, Musashi was approached by the ship’s captain, one of the Great Kings of the Jomon Empire, a mysterious and extremely powerful man named Samyaza. “A fine battle,” Samyaza said without empathy, his voice deep and cold, “but how many more attacks on my ship must I endure?” “My Lord, we have conquered most of these lands thanks to your power and wizardry. Now, only a few provinces remain to be captured, and your rule will be absolute. The enemy will soon be crushed and these raiding attacks will cease. Perhaps our entrapment of the enemy tonight will prove to be a deterrant.” Samyaza grunted in skepticism. Beneath the black hood that veiled his face, his eyes seemed to glow an unearthly red colour, the colour of blood. “The enemy will not stop. They know that we carry the Essence of Jutsu aboard this ship. They know that the artifact is the key to the Jomon Empire’s power. They are trying to steal the artifact, and use its powers to defeat us.” “But My Lord, the power of the artifact yields only to contrary minds,” Musashi reminded him. “These savages could never unlock its secrets. Additionally, the Jomon Empire has its Great Kings, both yourself and your brother, Urakabarameel, with powers beyond which any mortal man could dream. There is no question as to the ultimate outcome of this campaign. Conquest shall be ours.” Samyaza nodded, and walked away. Musashi’s optimism was admirable, but the hooded figure knew, that without its Great Kings, the Jomon Empire could be subdued in a matter of weeks.

*** EIGHT YEARS LATER Shanghai

A large Imperial ship slipped out of its dock at Shanghai before dawn and silently drifted down the Yellow River toward the Pacific Ocean. The ship stood over two hundred feet long, carrying a dozen sails on four tall masts. With the Jomon Empire still reeling after the sudden and mysterious disappearance of its Great Kings, the vessel didn’t fly its usual state banners, and, in fact, carried no identifying flags at all.

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Few people on shore wondered much about the early departure of the large ship, which normally set sail with great fanfare. Only a handful of onlookers noted that the vessel was manned with half its normal crew. And fewer still noticed the sight at the ship’s helm. Two men, dressed in dark flowing robes, their faces veiled by hoods, stood pointing to the clouds and rising sun. It would be the last time the Great Kings were ever seen by their subjects… In a strange tongue, the Great Kings directed the path of the majestic vessel as it departed civilisation and entered the waters of the vast blue ocean for a distant and uncharted destination…

***

FOUR THOUSAND YEARS LATER Somewhere north of Belize June 3, 2021 AD

I should be dead. How can I possibly be still alive? George Xetheus closed his eyes, and took a deep breath of the warm air that flowed around him. He cast his mind back, trying to remember what had happened. Leon. Leon and Rudra had betrayed him. He had come to within a hair’s breadth of destroying Firestorm, of attaining absolute victory with Operation Shadow Hand… He gritted his teeth, remembering the moment. His most trusted servants had betrayed him, had turned against him, destroying his clone bodies and helping Firestorm to end his life… His eyes flashed open. He was sitting in grass, naked, by a slow-running stream. There was no sign of civilisation. As far as he could see the ground was lush with vegetation. He realised suddenly that he was not able to see very far; the growth of the plant life was so thick around him. How is this possible? Xetheus glanced at the foliage around him, examining every detail he could, trying to gather clues as to where he was and what he was doing there. He had no idea where he was. But he had the vague feeling that he had been here before. Earlier he had become hungry and foraged for some fruit. He thought about following the stream to see if it led to a town, but then he had decided against it. He had been brought to this spot for a reason. He would stay here until he received some sign that it was time to move on. He sat patiently in a meditation pose, or at least he tried to. For some strange reason, he could barely sit still. He did not remember it being so difficult just to sit and wait. He thought he had become a master at patience in his later years. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting the seconds, trying to make the breath last as long as possible. He looked up to the sky. The sun was coming closer to the horizon now. The light was becoming dimmer. He exhaled slowly. Then, suddenly, a deep and raspy voice called from behind him:

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“George Xetheus.” Startled, he turned to regard the voice, and gasped in fright: towering seven feet tall behind him were two heavily-robed figures, wearing dark hoods that veiled their faces. Their eyes seemed to glow with a menacing red, the colour of blood… “Who are you?” Xetheus demanded, getting to his feet. “What is going on here?” One of the figures took a step forward. “We… are the Sons of Darkness…” it hissed. “We… have saved you from the oblivion of death…” Xetheus licked his lips, and swallowed dryly in the depths of his throat. “For what purpose?” The two mysterious figures were silent for a moment. Then the closest one raised its arm to point a thin, gloved finger at him. “We have been watching you from the shadows for some time. We have chosen you to be the One…” The second figure stepped forward then, reaching up its arms to pull back its hood, exposing its face. “The One to usher in our Return…” Mr. X gazed at the creature’s face, opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

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PROLOGUE II Beijing, China September 1, 2023 A.D

It was a stifling day in Beijing. A suffocating conflux of heat, smog, and humidity doused the congested city in a thick soup of misery. Tempers flared on the streets as cars and bicycles jostled for position in the jammed boulevards. Mothers grabbed their children and flocked to the city’s numerous lakes in an attempt to seek reprieve from the heat. Teenage street vendors hawking chilled Coca-Colas made stellar profits quenching the thirst of sweaty tourists and businessmen. The temperature was little cooler in the large meeting room of the Syndicate’s new Chinese headquarters, situated in a secure compound just west of Beijing’s historic Forbidden City. Buried in the basement of an ancient edifice inaptly named the Palace Steeped in Compassion, the windowless conference room was an odd conglomeration of fine carpets and antique tapestries mixed with cheap 1990s office furniture. A half dozen humourless men, comprising what remained of the elite Council of Nine, the most influential body in the Syndicate, sat at a scarred round table with the group’s leader, Mr. X. The stuffy room felt much hotter to the tea drinker, a balding man with beady eyes named Shinzhe, who stood before the others with a young female assistant at his side. “Shinzhe,” Mr. X breathed, lowering his gaze. His youthful skin creased as he frowned. “Do you seriously believe that a few ‘accidents’ have rendered our objectives unfeasible?” Shinzhe took a sip of his tea, then carefully placed the cup down on its saucer. He cleared his throat while wiping a damp palm on his trouser leg. “Mr. X, Council members,” he replied, nodding to the other assembled figures. “The needs of this Syndicate have changed tremendously in the last few years. Our repeated ‘defeat’ at the hands of Firestorm, the repeated ‘deaths’ of our glorious leader, the repeated destruction of our personnel and equipment… coupled with our rapid and dynamic growth worldwide… has driven an extremely high thirst for energy resources. Just a few short years ago, ninety percent of our consumption came from nuclear fusion developed by Dr. Dahm. It is regrettable that he was killed during the military siege on the Himalayan facility. Now, whether we like it or not, we are going to have to find some other way to satiate this appetite.” The man who always wore green leaned forward and said, “There is also the issue of funds to worry about. Thanks to the efforts of Firestorm, our income from international drugs and arms trafficking is at an all time low.” Moustache cleared his throat, adjusting his tie. “Let us not forget, additionally, that Leon Shiva and Rudra have escaped from Arkham Asylum, during last month’s riots…” “Yes, I am well aware of these growing problems,” stated X. The Syndicate leader had a reputation for being hot-tempered, Shinzhe knew, but respected the truth.

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“However, there is no need for concern. We no longer need to worry about any of this…” “Just what do you mean?” another Council member asked. Mr. X pushed his chair back with a scrape, then got to his feet and began to pace around the room. “As you know, I was able to return to life two years ago, even after the destruction of the homo universalis cloning lab…” Shinzhe swallowed dryly. Glancing around the table at the other Council members, he knew that none of them had ever been brave enough to ask exactly how Mr. X had returned. During the whole ‘Socharis’ debacle, questioning X’s powers would have been a shooting offence. He took a deep breath. X stopped pacing, turning to face the group directly. “The truth is, I would have been dead forever, if not for the intervention of a group of powerful beings calling themselves the Sons of Darkness. They resurrected me, and in exchange for my servitude, they agreed to provide me with everything I need to bring this world to its knees.” The room fell silent. No one dared breathe in the face of Mr. X’s revelation. Only the tinny rattle of the air conditioning rumbling in the background stirred the heavy atmosphere in the air. Then Shinzhe cleared his throat. “With respect, sir, but your servitude?” X gritted his teeth. “These Sons of Darkness… their powers far exceed my own. They want me to ‘usher in their Return’. They have waited thousands of years for this, gathering strength. With my help, they will rule the world with their immense power!” X was practically shouting now, frothing at the mouth. “But I, George Xetheus, will learn the secret of their power! I will take it from them, and destroy them! I will rule the world in their stead, as it was meant to be!” The staid audience erupted in an uproar. Cries of sudden outrage rocked through the room at the shocking revelation. After minutes of boisterous dissent, Shinzhe pounded an ashtray on the table to regain silence. “Silence!” Mr. X shouted, immediately quieting the crowd. A pained look crossed his face, then he spoke calmly and quietly. “I know what I’m doing. As always, ladies and gentlemen, your loyalty will be handsomely rewarded…” His eyes flickered evilly. Moustache leaned forward. “Perhaps,” he replied, a look of intrigue suddenly warming his face. “It is worth pursuing.” “You can always count on us, sir,” Shinzhe bowed. “Long live the Syndicate! Hail George Xetheus!” He raised his teacup into the air, as if proposing a toast. The crowd erupted into cheers of excited praise then, their combined voices an unnerving melody. “Hail Mr. X!”

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1 Las Vegas, Nevada July 4, 2025

The Aeroflot TU-154 Passenger Jet banked slowly over the city of Las Vegas before turning into the wind and lining up on the main runway of McCarran International Airport for its final approach. Under a cloudless sky, Axel Stone enjoyed an expansive vista of the city and outlying landscape from his cramped passenger’s seat window. The city was located in an arid desert basin, surrounded by mountains varying in color from pink to rust to grey. Home to over 3.5 million people, the city was certainly the most populous city in the state of Nevada, the seat of Clark County, and an internationally known vacation, shopping, entertainment, and gambling destination. Colourful casinos, upscale restaurants, and booming nightclubs were the order of the day, a hive for criminals from across the globe. As Axel stared down at the Spring Mountains to the west of the city, he wondered whether chasing criminals to Las Vegas was such a good idea. The city was notoriously rife with crime, and would almost certainly lead Firestorm into deeper waters… Axel had a three-year-old son to worry about now, and getting himself killed in Las Vegas wasn’t going to make him a good father. Still, Firestorm had a duty to perform, and there were rumours of a former Syndicate boss contributing to foul play and adbuctions. Somebody was up to no good, and he wanted to know why. As the jet’s tires screeched onto the runway, Axel jabbed his elbow toward the passenger’s seat next to him. Adam Hunter had fallen asleep seconds after the plane lifted off from the Firestorm Headquarters in Colorado, and he continued to snooze even as the flight attendant spilled coffee on his foot. Prying a heavy eyelid open, he glanced toward the window. Spotting the concrete tarmac, he popped upright in his seat, instantly awake. “Did I miss anything on the flight down?” he asked, suppressing a yawn. “The usual. Wide-open landscapes. Some clouds. A couple of nude communes.” “Just my luck,” Adam replied, eyeing the brown coffee stain on his foot with suspicion. “Welcome to Las Vegas, or ‘Sin City’, as it is more commonly known,” Dr. Zan’s jolly voice boomed from across the aisle. His huge, android frame was wedged into a tiny seat. Beside him, Blaze Fielding-Stone sat looking at herself in a compact mirror, puckering her lips, examining her makeup. Satisfied she was looking beautiful, she clipped the compact shut, then turned to Zan and smiled. “We’ve been here before, you know. Just never on Firestorm business…” The four of them made their way through immigration, Dr. Zan garnering extraordinary scrutiny, before collecting their bags. The airport was large, even for international standards, and while waiting for a curbside cab Blaze noticed a bald, shady-looking muscleman in a red shirt studying them from across the concourse.

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Scanning the terminal, she noticed that many of the locals gawked at them, not used to seeing world-famous crime-fighters every day, let alone an eight-foot android. A weathered cab was flagged down, and they quickly motored the short distance into the city, taking Las Vegas Boulevard South onto The Strip. The taxi careened around a crater-sized pothole then screeched to a stop in front of the Venetian Casino-Hotel. As Axel checked them in, Blaze admired a collection of reproduced medieval artwork that decorated the large lobby. Glancing out the front windows, she noticed a car pull up to the entrance and a man in a red shirt climb out. The same man she’d seen at the airport. Blaze studied the man as he lingered by the car. His features were Caucasian, but his eyes were hidden by a large pair of dark glasses. He looked comfortable in his surroundings, earmarked by a toothy grin that habitually flashed from his ratty face. Blaze noticed that he walked with measured balance, like a cat walking atop a fence. He was no tap dancer, though. In the pit of his back just above the waistline, Blaze saw a slight bulge that could only be a gun holster. “All set,” Axel said, handing room keys to Adam and Zan. “We’re all in neighbouring rooms on the twenty-fourth floor. The bellboys are taking our bags up now. Why don’t we grab lunch in the hotel café and strategise our plan of inquiry?” “Sounds like a plan,” Zan said. “If there’s a prospect of a cold beer in this joint, then I’m already there,” Adam replied. “I’m still stiff from the plane ride,” Blaze told them. “Think I’ll stretch my legs a bit with a walk around the block first. Order me a tuna sandwich, and I’ll join you in a few minutes.” Axel nodded, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “Sure thing, hon.” As Blaze exited the hotel, the man in red quickly turned his back and leaned on the car, casually checking his watch. Blaze turned and walked in the other direction, dodging a small group of Japanese tourists checking into the hotel. Walking briskly, she set a fast pace with her long legs and quickly covered two blocks. Turning a corner, she shot a quick glance to her side. As she suspected, the man in the red shirt was tailing her a half block behind. Blaze had turned down a small side street lined with tiny shops that sold their goods along the sidewalk. Temporariliy out of sight of her pursuer, Blaze started running down the street, sprinting past the first half-dozen shops. Ducking past a ‘Cool Zone’ newsstand, she slowed in front of an open-air clothing shop. A rack of Tshirts jutted from the shop’s side wall, offering a perfect concealment spot from someone rushing down the street. Blaze stepped into the shop and around the shirtrack, then stood with her back to the wall. A wrinkled old woman wearing an apron appeared from behind a counter piled with shoes and looked up at Blaze. “Shhh,” Blaze smiled, holding a finger to her lips. The old woman gave her an odd look, then returned to the back of the shop shaking her head. Blaze had only to wait a few seconds before the man in the red shirt came hurrying along, nervously scanning each shop he came to. The sound of the man’s footsteps announced his arrival as he approached and stopped in front of the shop. Blaze stood perfectly still, listening for the sound of heavy leather soles on concrete. When the patter resumed, Blaze sprang from the rack like a coiled spring. The man in the red shirt had started to jog to the next shop when he detected a movement behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to find Blaze only a step behind him. Before he could react, he felt Blaze’s hands grasp his shoulders.

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Blaze could have tackled the man, or spun him around, or slammed him to the ground. But she wasn’t one to fight physics and instead simply used their forward momentum and pushed the man ahead toward a round metal hat rack. The assailant smacked head-first into the rack and fell forward onto his stomach amid a clutter of baseball caps. The fall would have incapacitated most, but Blaze was hardly surprised when the beefy man bounced up immediately and crouched to strike Blaze with his left hand while his right hand reached behind his back. Blaze took a step back and grinned at the man. “Looking for this?” she asked. With a slight flick of her wrist, she flashed a Serdyukov SPS automatic pistol, which she levelled at the man’s chest. A blank look crossed the man’s face as his right hand came up behind his back empty. He coolly looked Blaze in the eye, then smiled broadly. “Miss Fielding. You seem to have taken advantage of me,” he said in English only slightly tinged with a Russian accent. “I don’t like people crowding my space,” Blaze replied, holding the gun steady. “And it’s Mrs. Fielding-Stone to you, sonny.” She frowned then, looking at the man more closely. “Hold on, I recognise you from someplace…” The man grinned. “I should hope so, bitch. It was I that very nearly killed you, ten years ago. My name is Donovan. Walter Donovan.” Blaze inhaled sharply. She remembered his face now – he was a Syndicate goon, ordered by Dr. Jerrin to kill her ten years earlier, after Axel had been kidnapped and taken before the prototype Robot X. But she had been so inexperienced back then, with no idea of who she was or what she was really capable of… “Adam shot you in the head,” she blurted. Donovan’s grin seemed to get wider. “I’ve survived worse…” Blaze smirked, and cocked the gun, aiming it directly at his forehead. “You won’t survive if I empty this entire clip into your face. Now start talking!”

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2 Seismic Activity

Blaze had a smile on her face as she strolled into the hotel café, where the rest of the team were sitting at a casual-looking breakfast table waiting for her. Axel and Adam had beers. Zan was reading the Los Angeles Times. “Well look who finally decided to show up,” Adam remarked jokingly. His plate was empty. So was Axel’s, aside from a few smears of ketchup. “You certainly took your time,” Axel added, giving her an inquisitive, halfamused look. Blaze pulled back a wooden chair. They’d ordered the tuna sandwich for her some time ago. It looked inviting, so Blaze quickly sat and began tucking in in earnest. It was good; brown bread, smeared with a generous helping of mayonnaise and juicy sweetcorn. Looking up from her food, Blaze paused, and couldn’t help but grin. “Ah, you know, guys. I just had to follow up on one of my hunches…” Chew. Swallow. “Had to shoot a guy in the leg. He wasn’t happy about this.” Zan raised an eyebrow, and gazed at her from the newspaper. “Have you gotten us into trouble again already, Blaze? Your highly-evolved senses, or ‘hunches’ as you so eloquently like to call them, are notoriously dangerous, you know.” “We’ve only just got here, girl,” Adam said, looking a bit flabergasted. He sipped some beer. “We haven’t even formulated a plan yet.” Blaze laughed. “Well, I’ve just managed to make our job a lot easier. I’m not one to waste time. You guys know that.” Axel leaned forward. “What happened?” Blaze laughed. “Well, I noticed we were being followed by this guy at the airport. So, I decided to… interrogate him.” She gave a coy smile. “What did you learn?” Zan asked. Blaze took another bite of her sandwich. Between mouthfuls, she said, “We have ourselves a former Syndicate Boss operating in the outskirts of the city. It’s Abadede.” Axel took a deep breath. “I’m familiar with the man, though I’ve never had the ‘pleasure’ of meeting him personally. Former champion of the underworld wrestling scene, before Max took the title. One of the most influential Bosses in the Syndicate’s Inner Circle, with powerful connections to the top .” Blaze nodded. “He’s the one responsible for the abductions, and theft of industrial machinery that’s been plaguing this city for some time.” “So Murphy’s data was spot on,” Adam grinned. “Man, nice work, Blaze!” “Why is he abducting workers and machinery? What’s he up to?” Axel probed. “He’s building some kind of doomsday machine in an old abandoned aqueduct facility in the southern reaches of the city. Donovan told me how to get there. But he couldn’t go into specifics about the exact nature of this machine, even after I’d pumped him with five bullets. I was convinced that he didn’t know any more than he told me.”

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“So you let him go?” Adam asked, looking at her intently. Blaze nodded. “We want the top guy here to show us what he’s doing. Easiest way to track an organisation to its core, is to terrorise its pawns. Draw out the King.” Axel sighed, and nodded. “I hope you’re right, Blaze.” He took a swig of his beer. That felt important somehow. If Blaze’s information was accurate, they would certainly be in this city for a while. Firestorm was formed to deal with situations exactly like this, and, though he felt strongly about taking down every last remnant of the Syndicate’s shadow, every day he spent fighting for its cause was another day he was away from his boy. “I do hope Max is okay. I miss him.” Blaze smiled. “Your sister is perfectly capable of taking care of our son, Axel. He’ll be fine. Besides, we have a vacation coming up soon.” Axel nodded. “It’ll be good to spend a little quality time. But, you’re right. We have a job to do, and it can’t wait.” They got up. Axel paid for the breakfast and the drinks, and they made their way to the Casino floor. ***

The air was stuffy and rank, filled with cigarette smoke and excited chatter, as the team strolled through the main casino. Scantily-clad waitresses serving expensive drinks of champagne to rich gamblers scurried about the card tables, and tourists tried to make their Vegas fortune pouring their hard-earned cash into slot machines, most of which was never to be seen again. Blaze frowned, suddenly stopping in her tracks, grabbing onto Axel’s shirt in order to keep her balance. Her face went pale, as if she were about to throw up. “Blaze? What is it?” Axel asked, sudden concern coming over his face. She blinked, taking deep breaths. “I…I’m sorry guys… I have a funny feeling. Like something terrible is about to happen…” Adam took a deep breath, his eyes cautiously darting between some shadylooking gamblers by the nearby Baccarach table. “Another one of your ‘hunches’, Blaze?” Blaze swallowed dryly. “I…” But before she could finish her sentence, every single electrical circuit in the building shut down, and the entire room was plunged into darkness. People in the crowd immediately began roaring with protest. “What’s going on?” Adam breathed. “A power cut?” Zan suggested. Blaze said nothing, her eyes wide. Then, television screens around the room began to switch on simultaneously, roaring static that cast an eerie, ambient glow through the darkness. The static image rolled, and a man’s face dropped onto the screens, cut in half by a huge, evil grin. Blaze gasped in fright as she instantly recognised the man. “Oh my fucking God!” she yelled. Tears swelled up in her eyes, and a painful cramping sensation flooded every part of her body, her aura flowing heavily. “I knew it! Somehow, I fucking knew it!” “Mr. X!?!” Axel yelled, gritting his teeth, unable to believe what his eyes told him was true. A wave of mixed emotions, shock and anger, dread, frustration and helplessness flooded his system. Adam frowned. “What the fuck? But he’s dead! He has to be dead!”

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Zan said nothing, continuing to watch the image with a tired, saddened look to his android face. “How is this possible?” Blaze whimpered. On the screens, Mr. X’s face was youthful and healthy. He began to speak, his tone dark and menacing. “I am Mister X. Know the power I possess, and what I am capable of doing. Know that I am in complete control of this city, and the fate of its people. In a whisper, I will have the entire city destroyed unless my demands are met!” Blaze was shaking and sweating uncontrollably. The very thought that her greatest enemy had escaped death yet again was not a pleasant one. “And we thought this was gonna be a run-of-the-mill operation…” she whispered cynically. “Shhh!” Axel hushed her. Mr. X continued, “I want the Essence of Jutsu artifact returned to me. This harmless historical nick-nack was stolen from me not twenty-four hours ago, by somebody operating within this city….” Blaze frowned. “The Essence of Jutsu?” she blurted. “But I thought Joe Musashi had that thing …” “The artifact is rightfully mine,” X spat, “and if it is not returned to me safely by noon tomorrow, I will have the city of Las Vegas destroyed and every pathetic creature in it!” Axel took a deep breath and let it out slowly, a look of painful regret in his eyes. “I received word from Joe Musashi some time ago… that the Essence of Jutsu had gone missing from the Oboro Dōjō in Japan… I never followed it up. Damn!” On the glowing screens, Mr. X seemed to chuckle to himself. “My loyal followers in the Syndicate have a seismic device in place just outside the city of Las Vegas. It can propogate elastic shockwaves through the earth’s crust, creating an earthquake of any magnitude I see fit! Unless the Essence of Jutsu is returned to me by noon tomorrow, I will create an earthquake such as the world has never seen, far beyond ten on the Richter Scale. The devastation will be absolute! And to prove that I am not bluffing, I will demonstrate the power of my Seismic Device to you right now!” Axel’s breath came in ragged, panicky gasps. “I do not like where this is going…” “Prepare yourself, Las Vegas! This will only be a little tremor compared to the full extent of my power! Pray that my demands are met!” The screens returned to static then blinked off. A moment of shocked silence fell upon the room. Blaze licked her lips, her gaze darting between the others’ worried and helpless faces, before a sudden rumbling in the earth sent her crashing to the floor in a heap. “Earthquake!” someone screamed. The walls of the casino began to buckle wildly, causing machines around them to topple and fall. Glass windows smashed and shattered, plaster and metal light fixtures fell from the ceiling in a shower of sparks, alarms began wailing. People were screaming and crying, panic stricken, running all at once for somewhere to duck-and-cover. “Shit!” Axel roared, jumping to his right as debris began smashing to the shaking ground beneath his feet. He searched around frantically for Blaze and the others, squinting. His eyes stung. He could barely see through the dark and dust. Then, as suddenly as the earthquake had started, it was over. Through the chaos, Axel managed to find Blaze. “Are you hurt?” he shouted, coughing violently.

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She shook her head dumbly, looking somewhat disorientated. “Where are the others?” Axel clenched his jaw and scanned their immediate vicinity. He spotted Zan, who had somehow been thrown twenty yards across the room. The android was gliding towards them across the torn and destroyed carpet. Nearby, Adam was getting to his feet from beneath one of the poker tables which had survived the quake undamaged. “Christ, he’s back!” Adam cursed, quite visibly shaken. “How is that possible? He was destroyed for sure…” “I think we just found out the nature of Abadede’s secret ‘doomsday machine…’” Zan muttered. “What the fuck does Mr. X want with the Essence of Jutsu?” Blaze hissed. “And if he doesn’t have it, who does?” All of them looked at Axel for answers, but he couldn’t give them any. Axel was trying to steady his breathing, his thoughts racing. “The situation has become a lot more complicated. We haven’t a moment to lose. Blaze, we need to assault that acqueduct facility now.” She nodded. Their world had, once again, just turned upside down.

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3 Infiltration

They looked like bogeymen, black-rubbery-skinned ogres moving ghostlike through the trees. Moving in silence, the three dark figures crossed the road in a cumbersome gait, then inched their way up to the side of the aqueduct. A few yards away, the rushing waters of the mountain river echoed across the hillside with a pounding fury. One of the figures stuck an arm into the aqueduct, then flicked on a small penlight. The clear water swirled past at an easy current, unlike the raging river beyond. Axel turned off the light, then nodded at his companions. They had waited an hour after sundown, until the sandy hilltop was nearly pitch-black. A late-rising moon would allow them plenty of darkness for at least another hour or two. Climbing into the back of the camoflaged FBI truck with Adam and Blaze, Axel found that Murphy had organised their gear into three neat stacks. “How deep is the aqueduct?” Blaze asked as she slipped into a tight-fitting, black DUI neoprene dry suit. “No more than six feet,” Axel replied. “We could probably get by with snorkels, but we’ll use the rebreathers in case we need to stay under a bit longer.” Dr. Zan had been forced to stay behind; submerging in water for long periods was not exactly good for the android. Axel had already zipped up his dry suit and was slipping on a Dräger rebreather harness. Weighing just over thirty pounds, the system allowed a diver to breathe a contained supply of purified air recirculated with carbon dioxide scrubbers. Replacing the large steel air tank with a small tank and pack, the rebreather nearly eliminated visible exhaust bubbles as well. Axel strapped on a weighted dive belt, then attached a waterproof dive bag. Inside he had placed his shoes, two handheld radios, and his Colt .45. Climbing out of the truck, he surveyed the perimeter area, then ducked his head back into the rear. “You guys ready for a swim?” he asked. “I’m ready for a warm bath and a glass of Bacardi,” Blaze said. “All set, just as soon as I load up my breaking-and-entering tools,” Adam replied. He rummaged around a toolbox until producing a hacksaw, monkey wrench, crowbar, and portable underwater torch, which he clipped to his belt, then hopped out the back. Blaze followed him out of the truck with an earnest look on her face. They made their way to the aqueduct in their black dry suits, each carrying a pair of lightweight dive fins. At the side of the V-shaped channel, Axel took a final look around. The moon had yet to appear, and visibility under the partly cloudy skies was no more than thirty feet or so. They would be virtually undetected in the aqueduct. “Try to keep your speed down. We’ll pull out under the small bridge just inside the compound wall,” Axel said, pulling on his fins. He checked his regulator, then pulled down his mask and gently rolled into the aqueduct. Blaze splashed in a few seconds behind, then Adam slipped in to follow from the tail position.

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The bone-chilling river water would have frozen an unprotected man in minutes, but for Axel in his dry suit, it felt like only a cool breeze. He’d nearly overheated hiking through the desert to the aqueduct in the insulated dry suit and was actually thankful for the cooling effect, despite the surprisingly bitter chill around his mouth and face mask. The gravity-induced water in the aqueduct flowed faster than he expected, so he shifted his feet forward and lay prone on his back. Lazily kicking his fins against the downward flow, he was able to slow his speed to a walking pace. The aqueduct followed the winding course of the road, and Axel felt himself snake from one side to the other as he descended. The concrete channel was coated with a thin layer of algae, and Axel bounced and slipped easily off its slimy walls. It was almost a relaxing ride, he thought, gazing up at the sky overhead and the thick palm trees lining the bank. Then the trees gradually fell away, and the aqueduct channel straightened as it flowed through an open clearing. The dim glow of a light shined ahead, and Axel could just make out the top of the compound wall rising in the distance. There were actually two lights, one mounted atop the compound wall and another glowing from the interior of the guard hut. Inside the hut, a pair of Syndicate guards sat chitchatting in front of a large video-monitor board. Live video feeds ran from nearly a dozen cameras mounted around the perimeter grounds, including one directly above the aqueduct. The grainy green night-vision images captured the occasional animal but little else in the remote setting. The studious guards refrained from the natural urge to sleep or play cards in order to relieve the boredom, knowing that Abadede had zero tolerance for indolent behaviour. At the sight of the compound, Axel purged a shot of air from his dry suit, sinking his body a few inches below the surface. He craned his neck just before going under, spotting the dark image of Blaze floating a few yards behind him. He hoped Blaze would take the cue and submerge as well. The water was clear enough that Axel could easily detect the glow of the entry lights and the looming edifice of the compound wall. As he glided closer, he flattened his feet and bent his knees to brace for a possible impact. He wasn’t disappointed. As he whizzed past the lights on his right, his finned feet collided with a metal grate that filtered large debris, and intruders, from passing through the aqueduct into the compound. Axel quickly kicked to one side, then dropped to his knees and looked upstream. A black object quickly loomed up in front of him, and Axel reached up and grabbed the murky Blaze a second before she collided with the grate. Not far behind, Adam appeared, halting against the grate with his feet as Axel had. Inside the guard hut, the two security men sat oblivious to the three intruders in the aqueduct just a few feet away. Had they been monitoring the overhead video camera closely, they might have detected several dark objects in the water and gone to investigate. Had they even stepped outside their warm hut and listened attentively, they might have heard a muffled grinding noise coming from under the water. But the guards did neither. The grate proved an easier obstacle than they expected. Rather than a tightly latticed plate that they would have to cut through, the grate was a simple strand of vertical iron bars six inches apart. Feeling the way with his hands, Adam grabbed the center bar and pulled himself to the bottom, where he attacked the base with his hacksaw. The bar was well rusted, and he was able to slice through it with only a few dozen strokes. He moved to the adjacent bar and cut through it with little additional effort. Bracing his feet on the floor of the aqueduct, he grabbed both bars just above

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the cuts and pulled up. With a burst from his burly thighs, he bent both bars up and away from the grate, creating a narrow passageway at the bottom of the aqueduct. Blaze was resting on her knees when Adam grabbed her arm and guided her to the access hole. Blaze quickly felt her way around the opening, then kicked through, twisting sideways to slip past the remaining bars. She turned and kicked against the flowing water until she detected the shapes of Axel and Adam slip through, then she relaxed and let the current pull her. They drifted through a concrete pipe passing under the compound wall, gliding through total darkness, until they spilled into the open aqueduct on the other side. Blaze lazily kicked to the surface just in time to see the small footbridge passing over her head. She struggled to stop as an arm reached out of nowhere and yanked her to the side. “End of the line, Blaze,” she heard Axel’s voice whisper. The steep and slippery sides of the aqueduct made for a difficult exit, but the three of them were able to pull themselves out by the bridge supports. Sitting in the shadow of the small bridge, they quickly stripped out of their dry suits and stashed them under the bridge footing. A scan of the compound revealed all was quiet, and no patrols were visible in the immediate area. Adam unzipped his dive bag and pulled out his shoes and a small digital camera. Beside him, Axel had retrieved his .45 and the two handheld radios. He made sure the volumes were turned down low, then clipped one to his belt and handed the other one to Adam. “Sorry we don’t have enough weapons to go around. You get in a bind, then give us a call,” Axel said. “Believe me, I’ll be in and out of there before anyone has a chance to blink.” Adam’s task was to sneak into the lab and disable the seismic device, grabbing any documents he could along the way. If there were any Syndicate workers about, then he had Axel’s order to wait until the all-clear before getting into a fight. Axel and Blaze had the stickier objective of entering the main residence and confronting Abadede himself. “We’ll try to rendezvous here, unless one of us doesn’t make it out cleanly. Then we’ll head for the garage and one of Abadede’s vehicles.” Adam nodded with a humourless grin, then grabbed a crowbar and skulked off in the direction of the laboratory. He wanted to curse Dr. Zan for not being here, but he knew they had no choice but to leave him behind on this mission. To disable the seismic device was surely a job for the android. He sighed, deciding it best to just concentrate on the task ahead. Axel and Blaze watched him go, then silently made their way toward Abadede’s residence.

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4 Window of Opportunity

Adam quickly moved across the open compound, dashing from shrub to shrub where cover availed itself. Only while crossing the entryway road did he slow down, crawling across the gravel road at nearly a snail’s pace so as not to create an audible crunch underfoot. He followed Axel’s directions, moving past the large, illuminated open garage. The tinkling sound of banging tools told him that at least one person was up performing late-night mechanical duties. He moved on toward the adjacent lab when the sudden blaring of a car horn froze him in his tracks. He could detect no movement around him, and finally decided that the sound came from a series of smaller garages at the end of the building. He swallowed dryly, then studied the lab, and was relieved to see only a few dim lights turned on on the lower level. Some brighter lights glimmered from the upstairs window, and he heard the faint sound of music coming from above. The living quarters for the scientists who worked in the lab obviously were upstairs. Checking again to see that no patrols were nearby, he crept to the glass entry door and pushed. To his surprise, the door was unlocked and opened into the test bay. He entered quickly and closed the door behind him. The bay was illuminated by a few desk lamps and buzzed with the hum of a dozen oscilloscopes but was otherwise empty. Adam noticed a coatrack near the entrance and grabbed one of the several white, long-sleeved lab coats hanging on the hooks, which he slipped over his own dark jacket. Might as well look the part, he thought, figuring it might be enough to deceive someone looking in from outside. He walked to the main corridor, which stretched the length of the building, and noticed the lights were turned on in a few scattered offices. Fearful of being caught in the open hallway, he hesitated only a second, then stormed down the hall. He walked as fast as his legs could move without breaking into a run, keeping his eyes forward and face down. To the three other people still working at the late hour, he was just a quick blur past the window. All they could tell was that it was someone in a whitelab coat, one of their comrades, probably on the way to the bathroom. Adam quickly reached the thick door at the end of the hall. With heavy breath and heart pounding, he flipped the latch and shoved. The massive door swung open quietly, revealing the huge anechoic chamber inside. There, towering in the center of the room under a bright circle of overhead lights, was Mr. X’s seismic device, gleaming with technological sophistication just as Adam had imagined it. Thankful to find the chamber empty, Adam climbed through the door and up onto the catwalk. “We’re halfway home,” he muttered as he pulled out the digital camera and a computer splicer. Noting the handheld radio on his belt, he silently wondered how Axel and Blaze were faring. ***

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“If you can provide a distraction from the front, then I should be able to slip around and surprise them from the side,” Axel whispered, studying the two heavilyarmed guards standing like bookends on either side of the main residence door. Blaze smiled tartly. “I’m not taking my clothes off, if that’s what you had in mind. A visit from Adam’s pet monkey should do the trick.” She patted the heavy red pipe wrench dangling from her belt. Axel lowered his head then released the safety on his Colt. That they would have to subdue the front-entry guards in order to gain entry to the residence was a given. The challenge would be to do so without firing a shot and alerting the small army of security forces that Abadede kept on the compound. They moved quietly along one of the reflecting canals that flowed toward the house, advancing in short quick bursts. They dropped to the ground and crawled to a rose bed that circled around the residence’s main covered entryway. They were within clear sight of the guards as they peered through a bed of ivory yellow Damask roses. The guards stood leaning against the residence in a relaxed state, accustomed to the uneventful grind of the night shift. Save for an evening walk or a late return from business, Abadede was seldom seen after ten o’ clock. Axel motioned to Blaze to stay put and give him five minutes to reposition himself. As Blaze nodded and hunkered down in the rose bed, Axel silently looped his way around toward the far side of the entrance. Following the rose bed, he reached the entry drive and gently stepped his way across the crushed gravel. The grounds were open from the road to the house, and Axel moved quickly across the area, running low to the ground. The front face of the house was dotted with shrubs, and he ducked behind a large juniper bush, then peeked through it to the front porch. The guards stood as they were, oblivious to his movements in the dark just a few dozen yards away. Creeping forward, he picked his way bush by bush until reaching the edge of the covered portico. He kneeled to the ground, tightened his grip on the .45, and waited for Blaze to start the show. Seeing no suspicious activities by the guards, Blaze gave Axel an extra minute before moving from the rose bed. She had noted that the column supports for the portico roof offered a perfect blind spot from which to approach the porch. She inched to one side until one of the columns blocked her view of the guards, then stepped out of the rosebushes. As she figured, if she couldn’t see the guards, then they couldn’t see her, and she angled her way right up to the back side of the column. The front door was less than twenty feet away, and she would have a clear shot at either guard. Without saying a word or making a sound, she casually stepped from behind the column, took aim at one of the guards, then hauled back and flung the pipe wrench like a tomahawk. Both guards immediately saw the slender, beautiful woman step into view, but both were too startled to react. They stared in disbelief as a red object tumbled through the air at them, smashing one of them in the chest, cracking his ribs and knocking the breath out of him. The buffeted guard fell to his knees, wheezing a moan of shock and pain. The other guard instinctively stepped to his aid, but, seeing that his partner was not injured seriously, stood up to charge after Blaze. Only Blaze was no longer there, having ducked back behind the column. The guard stumbled toward the column, then stopped when he detected footsteps behind him. He turned in time to see the butt of Axel’s .45 strike his temple just beneath his helmet.

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As the lights went out, Axel just managed to slip his hands under the man’s arms and catch him before he collapsed to the ground. Blaze popped from behind the column and approached as Axel dragged the unconscious guard toward some bushes. Axel noticed a sudden glint in Blaze’s eyes just before she yelled, “Down!” Axel ducked as Blaze took two steps and leaped directly toward him. Blaze stretched out and soared over Axel, flying toward the first guard who now stood behind Axel. The injured man had shaken off the blow from the wrench and staggered to his feet with a short knife, which he’d been preparing to plunge into Axel’s back. Blaze whipped her left arm forward midair, knocking the guard’s knife to the side before tumbling into him with her full weight. They fell hard to the ground together, Blaze driving her weight into the man’s chest. The pressure on the guard’s broken ribs was unbearable and the wincing man gasped as he tried to suck in air. Blaze’s right fist beat out the cry, crashing into the side of his neck and knocking him out before another warble left his mouth. “That was a little close,” Blaze gasped. “Thanks for the leap of faith,” Axel said. He stood up and surveyed the compound. The grounds and house appeared quiet. If the guards had triggered an alarm, it wasn’t apparent. “Let’s get these guys out of sight,” Axel said, dragging his victim again toward the bushes. Blaze followed suit, grabbing her guard by the collar and pulling him backward. “Hope the next shift doesn’t arrive soon,” she huffed. As Axel deposited his body by the bushes, he turned to Blaze with a twinkle in his eye. “I think it may arrive sooner than you think,” he said with a knowing wink. Blaze smiled back at him, and they moved to the entrance of the house, ready to confront Abadede.

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5 Abadede

Staying low, Adam knelt beside the seismic device, punching commands into the little interface terminal that jutted out from one side. He had his computer slicer inserted into an adjacent disk drive, one handy little baby that Murphy had customdesigned especially for this task: piling through the deadly machine’s billions of lines of code and isolating the ones necessary to disable it. It was a job that Dr. Zan could have easily done himself, but since it was impossible for him to be here, the computer slicer was the only way to go. As the slicer did its job, Adam sneaked a look over the top of the gleaming metallic surface of the seismic device. The lab itself was still empty, mostly being run by automation, but two large glass windows at the opposite side allowed the scientists in the next room to see in. As far as Adam could tell, there were three or four of them, but since they were working the night shift, they were apparently lazy and not very observant. He’d been up on the catwalk fiddling with the seismic device’s controls for almost ten minutes now, and no-one had noticed a thing. Wiping a layer of sweat from his brow, Adam pulled up his digital camera and took a couple of snapshots of the seismic device. A big sign on the rear body casing read:

!EXTREME DANGER! ELECTRICALLY-CHARGED PARTICLES IN USE SYNCHROTRON RADIATION 3.5×1011 GeV

Adam was no scientist, but he knew the signs meant this machine was employing some kind of particle acceleration technology, and if he wasn’t careful, he could probably blow Las Vegas and the surrounding wilderness clean off the map. He brought the digital camera down, took a deep breath for a moment, lost in thought, then turned to regard the interface display as it made a sharp beeping noise. The computer slicer had done it: there, on the little ten-inch screen, flashed two lines of machine code that he could use to disable this seismic device for good. Wasting no time, he punched more commands into the console, changing the code according to Murphy’s instruction. When he was finished, he pulled the computer slicer from its port and slipped it into his back pocket, then returned the interface panel on the seismic device back to its closed position. Time to rendezvous with the others… he thought, taking a breath and blowing it out wearily. It wouldn’t take too long for the scientists in the other room to realise something was wrong, but when they did, they’d spend years trying to find out exactly what happened to their machine of death. Adam had implanted a 2 Kbit virus,

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nicknamed the ‘Firestorm Crunch’, which would effectively render the seismic device a useless hunk of metal for decades. Adam smiled to himself, then cautiously started to make his way from the catwalk back to the hallway beyond the chamber entrance. As he darted between bulkheads, he hoped that Axel and Blaze had made it to Abadede’s private residence with equal success. ***

Abadede smiled to himself as he watched the overhead security monitors, reclining in a comfortable leather chair. The images showed Axel Stone and Blaze Fielding sneaking their way through the mansion’s corridors, attempting to make their way to his personal chambers unnoticed. He’d been alerted to their presence the moment they’d stepped through the main entrance doors; at this time of night, no-one was permitted entry into Abadede’s personal residence, so naturally a silent alarm had been triggered, linked directly to his personal computer console. Abadede was a huge man, almost seven feet tall with a frame packed with pure muscle. Many years ago, he’d been the reigning world wrestling champion, a Syndicate thug only defeated once in the ring, but since then he’d risen through the ranks of the organisation to become one of its most influential bosses, and he was still as strong and powerful as ever. He hadn’t allowed his newest duties to stop him lifting weights and crushing heads. Now, he watched the security monitors with amused satisfaction, looking forward to the opportunity of fighting two of the Syndicate’s most hated adversaries. If they thought they could kill him the same way they’d killed many of his former colleagues, they were gravely mistaken. Axel and Blaze were close now, having ascended the grand staircase and made their way down the second floor hallway. Within moments, they would be upon him. Abadede took a long breath, then rose slowly from his seat, stretching the huge muscles in his arms and legs. This was going to be fun.

*** “Ready?” Axel stood at the entryway to Abadede’s personal chambers, one hand gripping the doorknob tightly. Blaze nodded. “Let’s get it over with.” Axel returned the nod, then threw the door inward. Blaze went through first, rolling across the carpet and coming up in a judo stance just beyond the threshold. Axel was close behind, his eyes darting around in the darkness, searching for their prey. From the shadows, they could hear Abadede’s deep, booming laughter. “Welcome, Firestorm,” his voice said. Blaze braced herself, her fists held high in front of her, ready for anything. She blinked sweat from her eyes. Abadede stepped forward then, illuminated by the moonlight shining in through a nearby window. He was bare-chested, his huge, rippling bulk glistening

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blue in the twilight. His tattooed face gave him an extremely menacing appearance, and his expression was grim. “Have you come to kill me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Axel clenched his jaw muscles. “We want some answers, Abadede. We want to know how Mr. X has managed to come back to life…” Abadede’s face crinkled into an amused smile, and he broke into laughter. “After all this time, you still have no idea…” Blaze frowned. Abadede took another step forward. Then another. “That’s close enough,” Blaze warned, changing to another stance. Abadede spread his arms wide, trying to appear harmless. “Allow me to let you in on a little secret…you did kill Mr. X four years ago… it’s only thanks to certain… outside influences… that he was able to return to us again.” Axel frowned. “What outside influences?” Abadede smiled. “I am talking about the Sons of Darkness…” Blaze swallowed dryly. “They were able to save Mr. X from death, and gave him new life. I have no idea how it was possible… all I know is that they are not mortal men, and they possess powers beyond the likes of which you have never seen. Even Mr. X, and you, Blaze Fielding, could not dream of imagining the powers of the Sons of Darkness.” “I’ve never heard of them,” Blaze said bluntly. “Who are they, and why would they save a man like Mr. X?” Abadede shrugged. “No-one really knows for sure who they are. Only Mr. X himself has had the … ‘pleasure’… of meeting them face-to-face. But I am told that they are old… as old as time itself, and they once ruled the ancient world long before you and I were born. They disappeared for many centuries, and now they have returned, and they are using Mr. X as a pawn in a plan to retake the power they once wielded, using his global influence to gain a foothold for their own ends. Mr. X now serves them.” Axel took a deep, sharp breath and let it out quickly. “This is ridiculous. You can’t expect us to believe this.” Abadede shook his head. “I expect nothing. What I’m telling you is the truth, at least as far as I’ve come to understand it. I’m not told everything, you know. But you can choose to believe me, or not to believe me. It really doesn’t affect me either way. I’m getting paid, and that’s all that matters.” Blaze raised an eyebrow. “What does Mr. X want with the ‘Essence of Jutsu’?” Abadede chuckled. “I suppose I could tell you. You’re going to die anyway, so what difference does it make? Mr. X plans to destroy the Sons of Darkness, take their power and make it his own. He knows that the key to doing this… lies with the artifact you mention. Syndicate agents were able to steal the thing from Musashi’s pathetic security a few years ago, but as I’m sure you’re aware, it has been stolen from us by certain… renegades…” He took a step back, and seemed to be sizing them up. “I’m disappointed, you know. For a team that has managed to foil the Syndicate’s plans so many times in the past, you really do know nothing about what is going on, don’t you?” He laughed, the sound reverberating around the small chamber. Blaze tensed. Abadede’s words swirled in her mind. It all sounded so crazy… so impossible… so ridiculous. But somehow, in the depths of her soul, she could feel that he was telling the truth. They weren’t just dealing with Mr. X now… there were

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even more sinister forces at work, and she wasn’t sure if Firestorm could win this one. For the first time in several years, she felt scared, like a child… “Enough chit-chat!” Abadede roared. “It is time for you to die now!”

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6 Gritty Escape

Abadede charged forward like a bat out of hell, bringing his right fist crashing forward into Blaze’s face. She yelped and flew backward, taken by surprise. Axel was anticipating the giant man’s speed and strength, having seen him fight years before in the wrestling ring. He pulled his knuckles across the floor then slammed them upward in a thundering uppercut that split the skin across Abadede’s chest. “Grand Upper!” Abadede recoiled in agony, dabbing at the fresh blood that seeped from the wound, then seemed to hiss at Axel between clenched teeth with insane fury. In a flash, he leapt into the air, his limbs darting out all around him, and he came crashing down on top of Axel in a slam that sent the ex-cop straight to the floor. Abadede wasted no time, grabbing one of Axel’s legs and twisting it at a painful angle, intent on breaking the bone… “Asshole!” Blaze screamed. She had recovered from Abadede’s punch and was now standing five or six feet behind him, twirling a blue fireball in her right hand. Abadede turned, then gasped in shock – - and Blaze threw the fireball forward, sending it crashing into his tattooed face. “Kikousho!” Abadede screamed, reeling backward, the skin on his face burning and peeling away like rotting vegetable. He instinctively put his face in his hands, but pulled them away immediately as he realised how hot it was – and that his skull was bulging out. In desparation, Abadede charged again, but this time, Blaze was ready. She launched into a barrage of punches, kicks, and jabs, going for his chest and neck. Abadede spluttered, reeling with pain, before roaring like a maniac and punching his arms out with extreme force, knocking Blaze away. Wincing, Axel got to his feet, pain thundering through his leg. Horrified, he realised that Abadede’s eye sockets were visible, the flesh around them totally burned away by the force of Blaze’s fireball. Abadede swung a punch out towards him, but Axel dodged the attack and sent two left hooks smashing into the giant man’s face, connecting at the eye, cracking bone. A third punch from the right hand hit Abadede in the jaw, snapping it, and finally Axel brought up his left leg, delivering two decisive kicks to the man’s chest. Abadede spluttered blood, and collapsed heavily to the floor. Blaze came and stood beside Axel, dusting her hands, and they looked down at the defeated ex-wrestler. Abadede coughed up blood, but still managed to laugh. “You have beaten me… I only wish I was able to fight Max Hatchett once again… the only man to ever defeat me in the ring! A shame that he was killed in such a pathetic way. Still, good riddance to bad crud!”

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Axel screwed up his face. Saying nothing, he lifted his boot then sent it crashing down, hard, into Abadede’s face. There was a final crack and squelch of blood, and Abadede’s body went limp. As Axel lifted his boot away, a pool of blood spread out behind the dead man’s head. “Touché,” Axel muttered.

***

Axel was silent on the way back to the rendezvous point. The confrontation with Abadede had left him with an unpleasant taste in his mouth, and he knew Blaze didn’t exactly feel comfortable either. The memory of Max Hatchett’s death was still a painful one, four years on, and Abadede’s words had reopened the wound and poured a little salt on for good measure. When they got back to the shadow of the bridge on the outskirts of the compound, they saw that Adam was waiting for them. “Status report,” Axel said bluntly and without emotion. Adam nodded. “Mission successful. The seismic device has been neutralised, and Syndicate documents obtained…” He seemed to trail off, noticing how dishevelled and exhausted the others looked. “You guys okay?” Blaze nodded. “Yeah. We defeated Abadede. It just wasn’t exactly a … pleasant confrontation. And we’ve learned some horrible truths about what’s happening with Mr. X.” “Oh?” Adam said, preparing their drysuits and clipping equipment to his belt. Axel looked up at the moon, at the night sky, wishing that things could somehow have been different. He took a deep breath, then let it out in a big sigh. “The situation just went from bad to worse, Adam,” he sighed. “We’re in big trouble. Bigger than we ever imagined…”

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7 Renegade’s Journal

August 15th 2023 Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, Cell 634 The prisoners are becoming increasingly restless. I can hear the screams and shouts of some of the more … fruity inmates at night. They’re keeping me awake and I cannot sleep. I do hope Kagami is okay. I haven’t seen her in months. Armed guards are everywhere. Curse this place! I have heard some of the other prisoners on my wing shouting about starting a riot… and I feel it could actually happen soon. I can sense the tension mounting. Hopefully, when it does happen, I can escape this disgusting rock. August 18th 2023

I’ve started conspiring with the prisoner in the cell next to mine. His name is Dyme Kennedy, a former Swat team member who turned insane and murdered a bunch of civilians. He claims to now be a member of Rolento’s Mad Gear organisation, one of the former constituent gangs that made up The New Syndicate under my command. The past couple of days have yielded some interesting results. Dyme has pledged his allegiance to me, and has promised to help me find Kagami and escape this madhouse. I am ready. August 20th 2023

Just before 1600hrs today, Dyme Kennedy and I were brought in from the exercise yards in division three to deliver tea and hot water to the cells as the other inmates were locked away. We had two twenty-five litre drums of boiling water stationed on the top floor above the gates, which is perfectly normal procedure – except we had other plans. Five officers were stationed in the division today, and as two officers opened the gates to let us in, we poured fifty litres of boiling water on their heads! At that moment, the riot had begun… seventy violently insane prisoners from division three rushed in through the gates all at once.

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We very quickly overpowered the officers, and locked them in the yards. We now had the cell keys, and made our way to the top floor, opening every cell and throwing down anything removable that would burn, and piled it up at the doorway at the end of the division. The fire we created was much bigger than we anticipated and the flames quite literally reached the roof. The roof was built 160 years ago, and before long half of the third division and all of the fourth division was a raging inferno that could be seen from the mainland. Images were broadcast live across national television. Camera crews in helicopters filmed the chaos as the prison collapsed. During the confusion, Dyme and I managed to locate Kagami and escape by hijacking a press helicopter that was foolish enough to descend to the rocks at the edge of the G-wing complex. The battle was harsh, and it was a very narrow escape, but my sister is safe with me now, and we are laying low for a while at a safehouse in Spain. It seems Dyme Kennedy has more than enough contacts we can use to get us back on our feet. Nothing can stop us now.

September 5th 2023 Rumours are circulating in the Spanish underground that the Syndicate has somehow survived the crushing defeat of Operation Shadow Hand. Worse, I have heard that Mr. X has somehow returned to life, more powerful than ever… how does he do it?!? This situation disturbs me greatly. Kagami and I will be travelling to our homeland of Japan tomorrow to further investigate these claims.

September 7th 2023 Our investigations have revealed that Mr. X is indeed alive – and is being controlled by a sinister group called the “sons of darkness”. I have a bad feeling about this. According to a group of top Syndicate personnel stationed in Tokyo who remain loyal to me, these sons of darkness are supposedly tens of thousands of years old, kings of the ancient Jomon Empire, who originally came to the shores of Japan from an ‘ancient land’ in the ‘southern seas’, as survivors of a ‘great catastrophe’... Whatever is going on, I must get to the bottom of this and kill George Xetheus once and for all. This bastard needs to die!

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September 14th 2023 I have been investigating further. In the year 1799, Captain Cook became the first person in recorded history to glimpse the ice-shrouded continent Antarctica. Before his voyage, not a single explorer in recorded history had reported sailing that far south or sighting any land. To Cook and his contemporaries, the continent was an entirely new discovery. And yet, a curious tradition existed among medieval map makers of a vast land to the south, “Terra Incognita” or Unknown Land. Even though no explorers’ accounts of this place existed, traditions and legends of it were strong, telling of a temperate climate, unusual animals which roamed jungles and plains, and a civilisation of white skinned people. For centuries mapmakers and philosophers speculated about the great southern land and what might be there. Cook’s voyage finally dispelled the utopian visions. He found only ice, and beyond that more ice. In fact, the ice was so dangerous that it forced him to turn back and retreat northward before he even got close enough to land. If this desolate place ever was a paradise, it must have been a very long time ago. Most maps dating from the Medieval and Renaissance period are highly inaccurate due to the limits of surveying technology of the time. However, strangely there exist a few dramatically different maps, ones which are many times more accurate than any other maps drawn at the time, even from areas as well surveyed as central Europe. Stranger still, the land which these maps all show is Antarctica, a place no explorer had ever seen. One such map is the Oronteus Finnaeus map of 1532.

Not only does this map show the entire continent, but also inland rivers and mountain ranges. The Oronteus Finaeus map is more accurate than any other map of the same time. In fact, it is more accurate than any map made anywhere up to the year 1800. These are no fanciful creations, the river beds and mountain ranges actually exist, although today, of course, they are buried by a mile-thick ice cap. This fact was unknown until 1956 when teams of scientists did sonar tests of the ice, which mapped the coastline beneath it. The modern maps match the old maps exactly. 714

I am convinced that the ‘southern lands’ from which the sons of darkness originated, MUST BE Antartica. Once preparations are complete, Kagami and I will voyage to Antarctica in an attempt to discover the true origins of this new enemy. If these ‘sons of darkness’ are real and powerful enough to control Mr. X, we need to know exactly what we’re going up against – only a fool would rush in against such a potentially deadly foe! Biding our time is the key.

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8 Renegade’s Journal, part II

January 23rd 2024 Deepest Antarctica – 4 days in Ice, snow, ice, snow and more ice! What a desolate place this is… the terrain is really testing our resolve. Even the great Rudra is having trouble - ha! Still, our sensations of tense expectancy as we prepared to round the final crest of ice and peer out over the site indicated by our satellite imagery… can hardly be described on paper. Even though we had no cause to think the region beyond would be any different to the endless ones we had already seen and traversed over the past 4 days. The touch of evil mystery in those snow-capped mountains… could not be explained in literal words. And the sound of the wind – a bizarre musical whistling, a piping over a wide range as the blast swept in and out of the omnipresent and resonant cave mouths, a dark and repulsive sound that would send a chill down anyone’s spine. Once we reached the site of the ancient city, Kagami and I were taken aback in awe and disbelief. An endless labyrinth of colossal, regular, and geometrically eurythmic stone masses which reared their crumbled and pitted crests above a glacial sheet not more than forty or fifty feet deep at its thickest, and in places obviously thinner. I thought of such things as the grotesquely weathered stones of the Garden of the Gods in Colorado, or the fantastically symmetrical wind-carved rocks of the Arizona Desert. But nothing could quite match the awesomity of the sight that lay before us. The effect of the sight was indescribable… it was clearly a violation of all known and accepted historical fact. Yet here, on a hellishly ancient land, in a climate deadly to habitation since a time not less than five hundred thousand years ago, there stretched nearly to the vision’s limit a tangle of orderly stone which could only be artificial in origin. How could this possibly be??? As we passed deeper into the perimeter of the ancient city, we began to see the ruins of human statues, stone towers, houses, and walls covered with writings and basrelief, though at this point they are mostly coated with snow and ice. We will camp here for tonight. Tomorrow, this tomb of stone and ice will reveal its secrets to us!

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January 24th 2024 We have been deciphering the ancient writings of the city for most of the day, increasing our understanding of the civilization that lived here. The city was thriving during the Early Pleistocene era, and at its height was home to a population of several thousand highly civilized humans that had set themselves apart from their rivals, the barbaric ( and now extinct ) homo erectus and homo neanderthelensis species. After thousands of years, they had reached a level of technology and sophistication far in advance of our own - in a time long forgotten by modern history. Their kings were named Samyaza and Urakabarameel, whose greatest ambition was to become ‘like the gods themselves’. I quote:“Knowing mortal men would never rule the world, they planned a huge Colossus, which would make them like the gods themselves.” The kings supposedly built a huge machine as part of some kind of ‘evolutionacceleration’ genetic experiment, which could speed up evolution in a test subject’s body, giving them powers and abilities far beyond those of any ‘normal’ human. When they were reaching the end of their lives, the kings stepped into the machine and used it to transform themselves into something beyond human… the exact nature of which, I cannot tell. When the kings stepped through the Colossus, they attained not only physical and psychokinetic powers, but also knowledge … the secrets of the entire multiverse, life and death itself. With their great knowledge, they constructed a DEVICE … capable of tapping into the quantum fabric of the multiverse and manifesting a great many things. The device was none other than Musashi’s ESSENCE OF JUTSU!! Far older than our modern archaeologists first thought. Soon afterward, the general population became uncomfortable with their kings’ newfound power, and there was a rebellion or uprising… Samyaza and Urakabarameel decided that the only way to contain the situation was to destroy them all. Using the essence of Jutsu device, they instigated a geomagnetic reversal - that is, a change in the orientation of the Earth’s magnetic field such that the positions of magnetic north and magnetic south became interchanged. This caused magnetic field lines to become tangled and disorganized through the chaotic motions of liquid metal in the Earth’s core, and it forced the entire continent into an icy, antarctic grave, a process that took mere months. That is where the records from the city end. From what I can gather, the kings travelled the globe thereafter, bringing the gift of civilization to the lesser developed humans in what is now known as Japan – eventually creating the Jomon Empire

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where they would almost conquer the world again using an army of mystical Shinobi warriors… My question is … why did these kings disappear suddenly? And why now, four thousand years later, have they re-emerged?

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What happened next…

After Abadede’s ‘defeat’ (he’s not actually dead), Firestorm returns to their base in Colorado. There Axel and Blaze are reunited with their son, Max Stone. Tina Stone is given a proper introduction and the team is able to recover from their mission to Las Vegas. Meanwhile, Shiva and Rudra have the Essence of Jutsu artifact, stolen from the Syndicate - who originally stole it from Joe Musashi in Japan. They contact Firestorm HQ, and relay the story of their trip to Antarctica. They are searching for the Sons of Darkness, and they believe the Essence of Jutsu artifact has the power to destroy them, which is why Mr. X wants it so badly. Firestorm contacts Joe Musashi, who races to meet them, and tells them all about the Jomon Empire and the history involved there. Soon, there is an airstrike on Firestorm HQ. The Syndicate has been tipped off on its secret location by a mysterious informant. Thousands of Syndicate Paratroopers begin storming the base, led by Abadede, who is seeking revenge for his humiliation back in Vegas, and also intends to take back the Essence of Jutsu from Shiva and return it to X. During the battle, Blaze and Rudra are captured, and young Max Stone is badly injured. It looks like the team are overwhelmed, until Dyme Kennedy steps in and helps them to kill Abadede, then escape to safety, but the base is lost in a huge explosion. At a secret Syndicate facility, Blaze and Rudra are degradingly tortured by Onihime and Yasha, for information on the Essence of Jutsu’s current wherabouts. During the interrogation, Yasha reveals to Blaze that as a result of her homo superior genetic re-programming, her life span has increased to approximately 350 years. Blaze is severely upset by the news. Then, they take her to a genetics lab, and complete her transformation into the First One, a mindless and powerful homo superior slave. With the help of Murphy and the NWO Security Forces, Firestorm, Shiva and Musashi manage to track down the Sons of Darkness to a remote Aztec temple in South America. Their goal is to kill the Sons of Darkness with the Essence of Jutsu. However, Blaze intervenes and manages to steal the artifact from them, and returns it to Mr. X. Mr. X uses the Essence of Jutsu to absorb all of the Sons of Darkness’ powers into himself, killing them in the process. He becomes all-powerful, a virtually unstoppable, godlike entity, but his powers are soon neutralised by Joe Musashi who uses the Essence of Jutsu artifact against him. Once X is mortal again, Adam Hunter delivers the final, fatal blow, ending his life for good. No clones, no magic, no robots, no possible way for him to return. The team escapes the Aztec temple victorious, managing to re-capture Blaze along the way. They take her back to civilisation, where she is submitted to military reprogramming in order to restore her proper memories and personality. Soon enough, the Blaze we know and love is back, but her mind has darkened from the whole experience. Reunited with his sister Rudra, Shiva bids farewell to the team and leaves. In 2026, Firestorm is disbanded.

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BOOK VIII

DUALITY

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PROLOGUE

American West Coast April 2nd, 2027

When Axel Stone regained consciousness, it was to find himself being pushed and dragged over tarmac towards a helicopter, whose blades were whirring in the night. The air on his skin told him he’d been stripped to his boxer shorts. His hands were tied behind his back and his commando knife had been removed. The pain in his skull was such that it was all he could do to keep from vomiting as he was pushed up into the helicopter. Inside, it was like a military aircraft with primitive seating for six at right angles to the pilots. Axel was thrust to the floor, where his ankles were tightly bound with nylon cord. A woman’s body, Blaze’s, he presumed – was pressed up against his, and lashed to him, back to back. He could feel her bare skin on his. As the nausea rose inside him, Axel fought to recover any sense of what had happened. He recalled being on the streets of Los Angeles, investigating alleged Syndicate activity in the area… then nothing. The noise of the helicopter’s angry rotors pressed his ears, then it surged upwards and immediately banked violently, causing his weight to roll on to Blaze, who let out a cry. Even in the wordless sound, Axel recognised her voice. “Blaze?” he said. A boot exploded against his mouth and a tooth broke from his jaw. “No talk.” Looking up, Axel saw that all six seats were occupied by armed guards. Six guns with their safety catches off pointed at him and Blaze, while six pairs of unsmiling eyes bored into them. While the pain in his head increased with the passing of the minutes, his memory of events slowly started to return. They had raided a seedy nightclub that, according to their anonymous tip-off, had been under the control of the Syndicate since not long after the defeat of the Sons of Darkness. The appearance of Donovan armed to the teeth was evidence that they were hot on the Syndicate’s trail, and he had little doubt that they were now on the way to some kind of new desert headquarters. Axel spat blood. He could see one positive aspect of this situation. They would never have found the Syndicate headquarters without help, and they were now being airlifted to it. Good. After about an hour, they lost height, and Axel sensed growing anxiety in the men. They landed without incident and he heard abrupt orders being given. The six guards made no move, but pointed their guns a little closer at their captives. Axel heard the sound of an old diesel engine outside and presumed it was a fuel lorry. Sand blew in through the open loading bay.

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Finally, the doors were closed and they were on their way again. It was pointless to try to work out in which direction they were heading, so Axel allowed himself to drift in and out of consciousness. He sought a way of reassuring Blaze, but could communicate nothing through their touching skin. After what seemed like a night-long journey, Axel felt the helicopter lower itself again. This time, as it hovered on the cushion of air above the sand, the six men stood up and, using rough hands and boots, got Axel and Blaze to the open door. As the rotors died, they lowered the steps and pushed their captives onto the ground. Blaze screamed as her naked ribs grazed the metal steps. The pair were moved over the sand until they came to a prepared track, about ten feet wide, on which stood an electrically driven cart, like a forklift truck. With guns held against their heads, they were manhandled on to the low platform at the back. The cart drove towards a dark hill of sand and dry grass, perhaps sixty feet tall, like the wall of a desert fortress. As they approached, huge sliding doors parted to allow them entry. The belly of the beast, thought Axel, as the doors closed silently behind them. The cart moved forward on to a circular platform and stopped. There was a hiss of hydraulics and they began to sink. The platform descended within a larger tube, into which it was telescoped, and came to a halt some thirty feet below ground level. The cart was driven off the unrailed platform along a dark corridor and stopped outside a heavy door. The guards pulled Axel and Blaze, still clamped together, off the back and pushed them through the door into a cell. Donovan appeared in the doorway. “You wait here,” he barked. “There is no way out. You move, you die. We see your every move,” he added, pointing to a camera in the ceiling. The door clanged shut and was bolted. The room was a cell about six feet by six. The walls and the floor were some kind of alloy. “Are you all right?” said Axel. “Yes. Are you?” Blaze’s voice sounded weak and close to tears. “A headache. Nothing worse than I woke up with after a night playing cards at Adam’s place once. Benzedrine and champagne. God. What are you wearing?” “Just these.” Blaze moved her hips. “The pink ones.” “They’re white since you ask. I changed before we had dinner.” “What happed in the nightclub? I remember when the lights came on. Then…” “Donovan came down the top of the balcony with a bunch of Signal goons, and fired some kind of electrical jolt at us. He was too fast… stunned us before we even saw him coming.” “There were too many of them.” “Now what, Axel?” Axel thought for a moment. “Well, I don’t suppose Donovan has brought us to the middle of the desert for no reason. If they wanted to kill us they would have done it by now.” “So?” “So they must have a use for us. A purpose.” “Maybe they just want to know how we killed Mr. X for the umpteenth time.” “Perhaps,” said Axel. “Until we find out, I think we should try to rest.”

***

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Light from the corridor was filtering into the cell when the bolt was drawn. Axel groaned as he shifted his weight on the hard floor. Two armed guards came in. One bent down with a knife and cut the ropes that joined them, but kept their wrists bound. The second guard gave them water, which they drank with their shackled hands. “Go,” he ordered. They were marched at gunpoint down the passageway and into a primitive washroom, where, under close supervision, they were allowed to clean up and use a lavatory in a cubicle. “Can I have a shirt?” Blaze looked down at her bare torso. The guard shook his head. He ordered them out, down another corridor to a stainless steel door. “Wait.” The man entered a code and offered himself to a concealed camera to be recognised. The door slid open. Axel and Blaze went forward into a spacious airconditioned room that was painted crimson: floor, ceiling, walls – there was almost nothing in the room that wasn’t blood red. Behind a desk stood an old-fashioned swivel chair with a maroon leather seat, and in it sat a man they both recognised in an instant. “For God’s sake, give the woman a shirt,” said Leon Shiva. There was such disgust in his voice that Axel wondered for a second whether he found all women’s flesh repulsive. Shiva stood up and walked round the desk. He wore a dark linen suit, white shirt and red tie. His deep black hair, driven back from the high forehead, hung over his collar at the neck. He put his face close to Axel, who noted his high cheekbones and the look of intensely arrogant impatience they had first seen so many years ago. More chilling still was the aloofness – the way that Shiva wouldn’t quite engage with his sinister red eyes, as though he knew that being exposed to the demands of others might dilute the purity of his own driving purpose. The slight reserve made him almost invulnerable, Axel thought – with no Achilles heel of pride or lust or pity. “Welcome to our headquarters,” Shiva said in a mocking tone. “I must say, it’s always pleasant when the two of you drop by.” Axel said nothing. A man came in with a grey army shirt for Blaze. Axel noticed that even after washing, her breasts were smeared with blood – his or hers, he didn’t know. The man handed a similar shirt and trousers to Axel, who quickly put them on. “Now. Sit down,” Shiva gestured to a pair of wooden chairs. Blaze took a deep, weary breath. “What’s going on here, Shiva? I thought you had abandoned your Syndicate masters…” Shiva walked across his office and put his face against Blaze’s. With a gloved hand he cupped her chin and twisted her face one way, then the other. Then he seemed to smile, and backed off a little. “After the demise of Mr. X and the Sons of Darkness, there was a … power vacuum that I just couldn’t resist. Thanks to your efforts, I am once again the ruler of the Syndicate.” Blaze frowned. “But I thought…” The back of Shiva’s left hand whipped across her mouth with a crack.

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Shiva raised the forefinger of his right hand to her lips. “Ssssh,” he said, as a trickle of blood ran out of Blaze’s mouth. “No more talk.” Turning to a guard, Shiva said, “Lock the girl in the cell until tonight when she can entertain the early shift.” The man took Blaze away, blood still running from her lip, and Shiva turned to Axel. Axel braced himself, ready for anything. Shiva grinned like a Cheshire Cat. “Now, it’s just you and me, Axel. Or should I call you Enigma?”

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1

Fourteen years earlier LAPD Central Division, Downtown Los Angeles March 6th 2013

“I trust we understand one another, William?” “Ah, yes, Senator. Absolutely…” Due to the nature of his job, Chief of Police William O’Hara usually spoke in a very confident, eloquent manner when it came to telephone conversations – liaising with other departments, giving his authority on civil papers, jails, the mayor, politicians – but when it came to Senator George Xetheus, he seemed to completely lose his nerve, often being reduced to little more than a cowering child. George Xetheus, of course, was a powerful Republican Senator who had been working in Government since his controversial landslide election win way back in 1985… and still held his seat in the Senate. Usually, US Senators served staggered six-year terms, but Xetheus had managed to stay in office for over thirty years, and it wasn’t down to his popularity that it was so. “Good…” Over the phone, Xetheus’ voice was deep, penetrating, and filled with malice. Ever since that fateful night two months earlier, William O’Hara had feared that voice, and what it might say or command. He had sold his soul to this man, but were the rewards greater than the cost? “The girl I speak of,” Xetheus continued, “her name is Tina Stone. Now, according to my informants, she has only one relative, a brother. A young police officer working in your own department…” O’Hara grimaced, swallowing in the depths of his throat. He allowed his mind to drift for the slightest moment, casting it back to that night in January 2011, the night he had first been contacted by Xetheus’ sinister agents. Laser sightings in the night, cast from the barrels of multiple sniper scopes, had alerted him to their presence – trained on the foreheads of his innocent, sleeping children. Then, a knock on his front door. A shadow at the window, on the porch. He closed his eyes briefly, remembering the face of the man well. The man who offered him seven million dollars and the lives of his children, in exchange for his co-operation, his subservience, to Senator George Xetheus, a man whose powers had by now outstripped the Presidency itself. William O’Hara had no choice but to agree, to sell his soul to this devil, this Mr. X. “Ye…Yes,” O’Hara mouthed, his voice quivering with intense emotion. “I know the guy. Axel Stone is his name. He worked on the Blue Swan case…” “Good, good.” On the other end of the phone, Mr. X seemed to smile. “Then you know what to do…”

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Sergeant Axel Stone walked up the stairs toward Chief O’Hara’s office, wondering what was so important that the Chief would ask to see him immediately. Chief O’Hara was usually such a busy man, so busy in fact that Axel had only been to his office on three occasions before – once to be promoted after busting open the Blue Swan organisation, and twice to be reprimanded for overstepping his authority on a case. He hoped he wasn’t in trouble again. He told himself he was being stupid, but his heart was pounding fit to burst out of his chest. The door to the office had the Chief’s name – W. O’Hara – stencilled in black letters, and beside the door, a miniature traffic light. The top light burned red. Axel pressed a button below the traffic light. He stood there in silence for a couple of minutes, trying to tell himself that everything was all right, that later on today he’d be hitting a local bar with his partner Adam and laughing about this, but he did not believe it himself. The red light went out and the green light went on, and Axel opened the door and headed inside. Chief O’Hara’s face was round, with grey hair cut into a military bristle cut. He smelled of Old Spice. Behind him was a shelf of books, each with the word Police in the title; his desk was perfectly clean, empty but a telephone, a computer terminal and a tear-off-the-pages Far Side calendar. He had a hearing aid in his right ear. “Please, sit down.” Axel sat down at the desk, noting the civility. O’Hara opened a desk drawer and took out a file, placed it on his desk. “Says here your parents are both dead, Axel. The only family you had was your sister, erm, Tina Stone, am I right?” Had? Axel felt his stomach lurch inside him. All he said was “Yes, sir.” The Chief licked his lips. “What did you say?” “I said ‘Yes, sir’.” “Axel, we’re going to be letting you go home early today. I want you to take some time off.” The Chief said this with no joy, as if he were intoning a death sentence. Axel nodded, and he waited for the other shoe to drop. The Chief looked down at the paper on his desk. “This came from the Beverley Hills Memorial Hospital… Your sister, Tina. She died in the early hours of this morning. It was an automobile accident. I’m sorry.” Axel nodded once more. O’Hara walked him to the door, not saying anything. He buzzed it open, then opened his mouth and said, “Just give us a call if you need anything. I’m sorry, Axel. Truly I am.” Axel said nothing at all.

When Axel was gone, O’Hara returned to his seat and picked up the telephone receiver. He dialled the direct number to Senator George Xetheus, and after ringing twice the man picked up. “Yes?” “It’s O’Hara. I’ve taken care of it.” He spoke without emotion. There was a moment of silence on the other side, then, “Good. I trust you will be able to take care of the funeral arrangements, the death certificate, the press? I want this to be absolutely convincing. If anyone finds out this girl is still alive, I will have you shot.”

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O’Hara swallowed dryly. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll make the necessary arrangements.” Mr. X chuckled. “I knew I could count on you, William. Thank you.”

The rain had started to gust from the grey sky, a freezing rain. Pellets of ice stung Axel’s face, while the rain soaked his thin overcoat as he walked away from the police building, across the parking lot, toward the Ford Taurus he had driven to work no less than one and a half hours ago. By the time he got to the car he was soaked. He sat inside and shivered until the heaters started working, wondering what he was doing, where he was going now. Ghost images filled his head, unbidden, as he put the car into drive and gently eased off into the flow of traffic. Amber is dead. The car shuddered to a halt at a red light. The wind howled about the car, and the wipers sloshed heavily back and forth across the windshield, smearing the city into a red and yellow neon wetness. It was early afternoon, but it looked like night through the glass. Axel rubbed condensation from the window with his hand, staring at a wet figure hurrying down the sidewalk. He swallowed. It occurred to him that he had not cried yet – had in fact felt nothing at all. No tears. No sorrow. Nothing. Amber is dead… The words lingered in Axel’s mind, almost superimposed over his thoughts like a ghostly film grain. He remembered back to the summer of 2009, four years earlier, before he had left home to become a cop. His mother was still alive then, and on this particular afternoon she had baked cookies for them to eat, the way she always did when school was out and the days were long and empty. Mrs. Stone’s home-baked cookies always smelled great and tasted even better. He could still remember that smell of freshly-baked cookie dough, coming through the kitchen window into the back yard, where he and Amber played racquetball or practised sparring techniques to see who could do the fastest combos. He remembered that, in that one, perfect moment, he and his sister were inseparable. Their relationship was picture perfect. After their father died in the fire that destroyed the family dōjō, Axel had almost given up his love of martial arts, but it was his sister that always stayed strong through that whole ordeal, keeping him focused and being there for him in his lowest points, picking him up when he fell. He had never truly gotten over the death of his father; he had made a silent vow to himself that once he left school, he was going to join the police force and bring down the murderers responsible. He closed his eyes, his thoughts jumping further forward in time, growing darker. After he had left home, it was as if his absence had sealed some kind of doom for his mother. The same day he had graduated from the LAPD police academy, he received word that his mother had been killed in a horrific car accident on the freeway, her vehicle careering off the diamond lane and plummeting off one of the Orange Crush flyovers. Worse still, she had been driving on her way to see him and celebrate his graduation, bringing him an eighteenth birthday present at the same time. Now, three years later, his younger sister Tina Stone, his little Amber… had suffered a near identical fate. Death in a car accident. How could this be? Was his family now cursed? Was he going to be the next to die? Axel took a deep breath, trying to put the thoughts out of his mind. He flicked his turn signal left, then manoeuvred the car across an intersection onto Santa

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Gertrudes Boulevard. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he got home, he hadn’t planned that far ahead, but he did know one thing for sure: things were never going to be the same again. He was now the last member of his family still alive, and he was only twenty-one years old. Far too young to have suffered such a terrible tragedy. He gritted his teeth, suddenly becoming very angry with himself. Frustration, that had been stirring within him for some time, building up yet pent up inside, now unleashed itself in his mind in a torrent. He cried out, hunched over the steering wheel as he was, and began violently sobbing, tears falling in hot rivulets down his tired face. “Amber!” he cried to no-one in particular. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his temples, his breathing becoming ragged and uneven. In that moment, he was blinded, gripped in the icy claw of despair, and then the car was flying, tumbling and spinning through the air, and he did not know which way was up. For an uneasy second he realised he was experiencing a car accident, that fate had decided to deal him the same card as Tina – - and then the moment was over. The car impacted on the sidewalk upsidedown, sliding over sixty feet towards a Taco Bell parking lot, showering sparks. Innocent bystanders scattered, screaming in panic. It was the last thing Axel saw through the cracked and shattered windshield before darkness took him and he could think no more.

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2

Buena Vista Community General Hospital 1:35 pm

Adam Hunter burst through the main doors of the hospital like a bat out of hell, his eyes desperately searching for the nearest doctor or nurse who could tell him just what the hell was going on here. They focused on the young, pretty blonde girl sitting at the reception desk, who watched him approach with one eyebrow raised, weary of his urgent demeanour. He flashed his police badge to her, then returned it to his left jacket pocket in one swift, well-rehearsed motion. “Sergeant Adam Hunter, LAPD. I understand you’ve had a colleague of mine brought in.” His brow furrowed, his dark skin creasing in the light of the halogen lamp that burned softly on the side of the marble-topped desk. “His name is Stone. Axel Stone.” The blonde girl smiled, and glanced down at a computer monitor. She waved her hand over the controls, bringing up the list of patients. “Axel. That’s a sweet name. What is he, like, a rock star or something? Like Axel Rose or Madonna?” Adam leaned against the desk with his right arm, bearing his weight down toward her, strumming his fingers impatiently against the marble surface. “Actually, he’s my partner, and a damn good cop. I’ve been told there was an accident on Santa Gertrudes.” His eyes darted this way and that. “Here we go,” the girl chirped, pointing at an unintelligible line of green, holographic text that floated in the air, projected from a holo-emitter beside the monitor. “These new holo-systems were installed last month, and I’m still trying to get to grips with them,” she laughed. “Personally, I prefer the old keyboard and mouse from when I was in grade school…” Adam frowned. “I’d love to stand here and chat about the latest technological breakthroughs with you, sweetheart. Really, I would, but please… I’m kind of in a hurry here.” The girl flustered. “Oh, I’m sorry sir. Of course. It says here your friend is on level twelve. You can take the elevator, located just down the hall.” She pointed a well-polished fingernail, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Go past the administrator’s office. And watch out for him, by the way. He’s a dick.” She smiled. “Your friend is in room 12-C.” Adam gave her a wink. “Thanks, beautiful.” Then he was gone, his powerful legs driving him down the corridor with an almost Olympian determination. “Any time.” The girl watched him go, biting her lip, her gaze catching the shape of his butt in those tightly strapped combats as he went. Then she shrugged, and went back to work.

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Having grown up in one of Chicago’s less favourable suburbs, Adam had seen more than his fair share of violence – stabbings, drive-bys, beatings, you name it – and during his time on the LAPD, he’d seen a great deal of murders and gang wars… but still, nothing could quite prepare him for that bizarre sense of dread he felt upon entering Axel’s hospital room and gazing upon the motionless, comatose figure lying in the bed. Axel’s face was purple, hideously swollen, his entire body shrouded in bandages and plaster casts. He looked like he was dead, the way he just laid there motionless, his mouth hanging open, his expression permanently fixed into a blend of absolute horror and agonising pain. The only signs of life came from a vital signs monitoring device that clicked and beeped with the rhythm of Axel’s heartbeat, and a breathing-assist machine that pumped air in and out of a crushed lung, making a disturbing sound like Darth Vader on steroids. Adam took one step toward the hospital bed, wishing there was something he could say or do that would magically restore Axel back to health. On the anguished car journey from the precinct to the hospital, he’d been rehearsing what he was going to say to his partner over and over – but seeing Axel now, in this weak and vulnerable state, made all of those predetermined words fly out of the proverbial window. The cat had well and truly gotten his tongue. “Hi Ax,” he eventually managed, clearing his throat of a build-up of phlegm. “I came as soon as I heard.” He took a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh. Poor bastard, he thought. First his father is murdered by the Blue Swan gang, then his mother dies in a car crash. To top that off, upon hearing of his sister’s death in a similar car accident, the guy goes and almost winds up dead in a car crash of his own. “Lousy luck,” Adam said out loud. “It’s about time the fates dealt you a break, buddy.” He nodded. “I… was sorry to hear about Amber, by the way.” Adam had only met Axel’s sister once, at their graduation ceremony from the LAPD police academy, and she’d seemed like a really nice, easy-going girl. He knew that, even though she was a year younger than Axel, he’d always looked up to her, and their bond had grown even stronger after the death of their father. Adam shook his head. He certainly had his own fair share of family troubles – he had never known his biological father, who had only been around at the moment of Adam’s conception (a ‘romantic’, alcohol and drug-fuelled coupling down an alleyway behind a dumpster) and his mother had been a crack-whore for many years. His brother, Eddie “Skate” Hunter, was a rebel, a pot smoker, and more interested in video games than anything else, but at least Adam’s family was still alive, at least he had the option, should he choose to do so, to go and see them whenever he wanted. Granted, Detroit was a long way from Los Angeles, but it was still a damn sight closer than where Axel’s folks were right now. Axel had nobody now, not even a girlfriend. Adam was literally all he had. It was a very depressing thought. “Buddy, as soon as we get out of here, I’m taking you out for a beer, and we’re gonna find you a woman and get you laid. You’re gonna need it.” Adam swallowed, wondering if he’d just overstepped the mark, but then realised Axel couldn’t really hear what he was saying anyway. He knew that comatose people had some degree of external perception, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t a great deal. “Well, listen, Ax. You make sure you get better soon, ya hear? I’m gonna have the docs here notify the LAPD as soon as your situation changes, so I’ma be here in a

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flash the moment you wake up.” He nodded to himself reassuredly, taking one last look at his injured partner. Then, cursing to himself, he turned and left the room without looking back, closing the door behind him as he went.

11:59pm

He opened his eyes widely at first, then closed them sharply and cried out in agony, pain issuing from every bone, every muscle, every ligament in his body. He spat out a curse against God, then gritted his teeth and roared until he was able to tolerate the pain enough to open his eyes again and look around. He was in a hospital, that much he could tell. But he had absolutely no idea of where that hospital was, or how he’d ended up here. “Fuck…” he muttered, the sound coming out as a dry croak. It suddenly occurred to him that he had no memories whatsoever, none at all. No matter how hard he tried, he was unable to remember who he was or any details of his life up until this moment. It was as if he were a new person, completely reborn at this midnight hour. Even his own name was an Enigma to him.

6:07am

News reached Adam Hunter at six o’clock the next morning, the bedside phone rousing him from a dreamless sleep – Axel Stone had mysteriously disappeared from the hospital during the night, and no-one had seen him go. Nor could anyone explain how it was possible for a man in his condition to just get up and leave without warning. Adam sat at the end of his bed, twirling a blunt pencil in the fingers of his left hand, puzzling, trying to ascertain what could have happened. According to the docs, there had been no visitors admitted to the hospital during the night, and no sign of any forced entry. The security cameras had picked up nothing, not even those on the outside of the building and surrounding grounds. It was as if Axel had vanished into thin air, leaving absolutely no trace whatsoever. Of course, Adam knew it was impossible for someone to just disappear, so the explanation had to be, logically, that he had been kidnapped by some professional, by someone who knew exactly what they were doing. Either that, or Axel had escaped himself through the window and scaled the wall of the building, but that seemed both unlikely and out of character for the man. No, Adam was sure there was some kind of foul play involved, and there had to be some kind of clue, no matter how small, in the hospital room. He nodded to himself, decided, then moved to dress quickly in his black combats and a dark yellow tee shirt. He would go directly to the hospital to liaise with the CSU team that had been dispatched in advance by Chief O’Hara. Something told him that somehow, today would have a few surprises in store for him.

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3 Interview with the Overseer

Syndicate Headquarters Mojave Desert April 3rd, 2027

“So let me see if I get this straight,” said Axel. “You’re telling me, that when I was in that coma fourteen years ago, I became a different person?” Shiva grinned, leaning his face closer. “Oh, but it was so much more than that, Axel. You became… something else entirely.” Axel frowned. His own memory of the events of that time was shot at best. He remembered the car accident, remembered losing control of the vehicle, gripped by intense emotions at the thought of losing his sister, but after that, it was one big grey area until about six months later. “I have no memory of what you’re talking about.” “Understandable,” Shiva nodded, clearly relishing Axel’s confusion. “Split personalities are often unaware of the existence of each other. It’s a complex duality, a defence mechanism, if you will.” “Split personality?” Axel repeated, still tired and weary from the rough journey on the helicopter. “What are you talking about?” Shiva opened his mouth to speak, then smiled playfully, turning his head slightly. “You know, it’s amazing, that after all these years, I’ve only just recently figured out that Enigma… was you, Axel. He was you, all along, right under our noses. Incredible. Quite incredible.” Axel’s mind was full of questions, insecurities and doubts bobbing their way back to the surface, yearning for new answers. Why was he told that his sister had been killed in a car accident, when six months later, she was standing before him, smiling down at him when he came out of that coma, claiming it had all been one big misunderstanding? Why did Adam always seem to change the subject whenever Axel tried to talk about those ‘lost’ six months? Was Shiva telling the truth? Did another side of Axel take control when he was in that coma? “Tell me more,” he demanded. Shiva nodded, pleased that Axel was now interested, finally engaging in the conversation. “All in good time,” he said. “First, there is something I would like to show you.” He gestured. “Come with me.” He touched a spot on the crimson-draped walls, and a panel slid aside. Axel followed him onto a walkway whose sides and floor were made of glass. Below them was what looked like a chemical factory. “Behold,” Shiva said, walking forwards, “the money-making heart of the Syndicate’s business activities, and a legitimate front for our more underhanded operations – analgesia. I learned about it during my time serving the US military in the second Gulf War conflict. How to take away pain. People talk a lot of nonsense

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about the horrors of chemical warfare. No one who fought in Iraq can be in any doubt that ‘conventional’ warfare is far worse.” The size of the works was astonishing. Axel calculated that there were almost five hundred workers on the assembly lines or transporting raw materials to the stills and centrifuges. “When you have seen men with their faces missing,” Shiva continued, “literally sliced off by bullets that have spun and turned on the bones of the skull… When you’ve seen men trying to hold their liver and intestines in their hands… then you understand the need for rapid relief of pain.” They came to a junction in the walkway. “On that side, those large steel vats are processing poppy extracts into what will become painkillers and anaesthetics. Codeine, dihydrocodeine, pethidine, morphine and so on. Some products are transported to the Far East and Australia. Some go to Europe, and some to Russia and Africa. Some of the chemicals are further refined, turned into powders, liquids, tablets, whatever local markets want. The brand names and packaging in which they are sold are different from country to country, but they all come from us. All our clients pay into offshore accounts and no-one is able to connect all the operations. Otherwise the Syndicate would be exposed and we would have gone bankrupt years ago.” “What about the competition?” said Axel. “We dominate the market because we have very low labour costs,” Shiva told him. “In fact, they work for nothing.” “Nothing?” “No money. All of the thugs, nobodys, criminals, and ex-cons we have working for us are all addicts. They work twelve hours a day in return for heroin. They sleep here, and are fiercely loyal.” “You give them heroin?” said Axel. “We shoot them up once a day. They queue up like children for the injection.” Shiva smiled, amused at the thought. “You should see their faces.” He turned and walked a few paces. “On this side of the plant, we make heroin. Doesn’t look much different, does it? That’s because we are the only manufacturer in the world who has brought a truly industrial technique to the manufacture of this drug. Putting it alongside our conventional works has allowed us to make huge economies of scale. The powder that comes out of here is produced with the same efficiency as the tablets and liquids that emerge from the other part of the factory. One lot ends up in the emergency rooms of Chicago and Madrid, the other in the back alleys of Paris or the Compton ghetto in Los Angeles. Once I’ve sold it, I dare say it may get cut with amphetamine or rat poison or weed killer. But that’s not my responsibility is it? Once the Syndicate has signed it off, I lose interest in the product.” The workers were only a few feet below them. They wore grey shirts and loose trousers of the same kind issued to Axel. Each man and woman bent to their task with terrified intensity, particularly when they sensed the approach of one of the supervisors with an electro-shock whip in one hand and an Alsatian dog straining at its flimsy chain in the other. Axel found it hard to look at Shiva, with his black hair and demonic sense of purpose. He seemed to be beyond reach, locked in a world where ordinary human concerns couldn’t touch or weaken him. “This is despicable,” Axel said finally.

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“It’s good business,” Shiva replied matter-of-factly. “And these punks… they’re trash. They’d die anyway. We prolong their lives. And at the end of each shift, we give them an entertainment. You’ll see. We’ll go back to my office now.” Back in the red-walled room, Shiva sat at his desk. He pressed a button beneath the top, and a panel slid back behind him, giving him a window onto the factory floor. “Sometimes I like to look at them,” he said, “to see money being made.” He caused the panel to close and swung round in his chair. “Why are you showing me this?” Axel asked. Shiva licked his lips. “Because the Syndicate’s drugs operation is a bit like you, Axel. On the one hand, we have a legitimate pharmaceuticals business, the side that is publicly seen and accepted, and never questioned. Like you, Axel Stone, excop and world-famous vigilante, hero detective. And on the other hand, we have the shadier dealings, the part that only operates in darkness and secrecy, the sinister side. You have a dark side too, Axel. And it’s name… is Enigma.” Axel swallowed dryly. “What happened to me when I was in that coma fourteen years ago?” His question was almost a plea. “If you’ll indulge me,” Shiva started, “I’ll continue our story. Now, where were we?”

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4

Syndicate Third Base 110 miles off the coast of California March 28th, 2013

The two guards stationed at either side of the doorway saluted as they saw Leon Shiva approach, instantly recognising the Syndicate’s number two man. Shiva returned the gesture as he passed, but did not stop, even to look at them. For as much as he respected the other soldiers that had been recruited to the Syndicate from various military factions around the globe, he also respected the Boss, and Senator George Xetheus, better known as Mr. X, was not a man renowned for his endearing patience. Mr. X had summoned Shiva to his office nearly twenty minutes ago, requesting an update on the status of his Shadow Hand Projects, of which Shiva was Chief Overseer. Shiva, though totally loyal to X, had been… otherwise occupied when the call came in. The love of his life, Electra Beddingfield, had been riding him like a wild animal, high on coke, wailing like an Amazon woman. Shiva had figured that an extra ten minutes to finish up there wouldn’t go amiss, but it did mean virtually sprinting from one end of the base to the other to reach X’s office before the corrupt senator really flew off the handle. When Shiva went through the door, Mr. X looked up at him from his desk with a fatherly smile, seemingly unfazed by the tardiness of his right-hand man. “Leon,” said X, extending the pudgy fingers of his right hand. Shiva shook it, slightly out of breath. “You summoned me, sir?” X gestured to one of two plastic chairs hastily arranged in front of the desk, and Shiva sat down. “Yes, I need your update on Project Homo Superior. Some of our newer investors are growing very very anxious, demanding news on its progress.” Shiva nodded. “As it turns out, sir, the Project is developing very well. The cloning facility in Philadelphia is now up and running at full capacity, with two hundred units being grown as we speak.” “And what of the First One?” X asked, squinting his eyes slightly. “We’re expecting her to be ready for full integration within two years. That’s a full year ahead of the original forecast.” Mr. X smiled. “Ah, that’s good to hear, Leon.” He nodded in satisfaction. “Yes, I believe our nervous investors should be pleased to hear that.” “Begging your pardon, sir, but why should those investors be nervous in the first place? Don’t they trust you?” “Like I said, they’re new to this,” X moaned. “And like all new people we bring into the organisation, they get worried about Operation Shadow Hand being exposed. They seem to underestimate me.” Shiva nodded. “You have been doing this for almost thirty years. Every President from Ronald Reagan to Barack Obama himself has had no choice but to be

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a pawn in your game. Your influence not only in domestic but international affairs as well cannot be ignored, for it is considerable.” “Indeed.” X reached into a small drawer beneath his desk and brought out a couple of Cuban cigars. He offered one to Shiva, who silently accepted. X reached into his pocket and brought out a gold-plated Zippo lighter, then lit the business end of his cigar after dealing with the other. He puffed out a thick cloud of bluish smoke as he did so. Shiva gratefully accepted the lighter and did the same. They sat in a contented silence for a moment, puffing on their expensive cigars, revelling in their own success. It was one of the few things that Shiva knew Mr. X to enjoy, when he wasn’t working feverishly on his lifelong master plan of world domination. It showed an element of humanity in the man who many others believed to be completely evil. Even if it was, for most ordinary people, one of their vices. X cleared his throat. “They’re passing a new law in Congress this month, you know. They’re going to make tobacco smoking illegal. Can you believe that? What is this world coming to?” It was a rhetorical question, Shiva knew. “We’ll just grow it in vats,” he said thoughtfully. X chuckled. “There will be plenty of money to be made there. Plenty of addicts in the world.” Then his expression turned more serious. “How are the coffers, by the way? I’ve been so busy of late I haven’t had a chance to peruse the accounts. Still on the rise?” Shiva nodded. “Still growing nicely. I couldn’t give you an exact figure, but I know that the Syndicate’s wealth is now the rough equivalent of the Gross Domestic Product of a sizeable Western nation. Even after our latest bribe to the LAPD and other benefactors.” “That reminds me,” X said, reaching over and stubbing the end of his cigar out into a glass ashtray on the side of the desk. “How is our new acquisition, Miss… Tina Stone, faring?” “She is resisting the gene therapy treatment, sir. But we’re working on it. You have to understand that this field of research is still in its early days. It takes a long time. Once she has grown accustomed to the fact that nobody is coming to rescue her, I think she’ll be more…co-operative. Onihime and Yasha assure me that the setback is temporary.” “Good, good. And speaking of new acquisitions… there’s a very promising young man named Enigma operating on the US border with Mexico. He’s been stirring up a little ruckus on the news channels over the past couple of weeks…” Shiva nodded again. “The insurrectionist who held those civilians hostage and started a small war between the cartels? Yes, I’m familiar with him.” “I want you to find him, and recruit him to our cause. I would send in Rudra, but she’s preoccupied with securing ‘volunteers’ for the assembly of our Robot X prototype. Once you have found Enigma, bring him directly to me. If he resists, kill him. He will join us or die.” Shiva stood up, saluted, and bowed his head slightly. “As you wish, sir.” He turned to leave, curious at what his Boss had in mind for the new recruit.

***

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Mexico-United States Border March 29th 2:50 am

Using a black, stealth-equipped F-1000 jetship that he piloted alone, Shiva flew south from Las Vegas across the Mojave Desert, keeping below radar. The Syndicate owned and operated a fleet of almost a hundred of the small three-man fighters, which were a military-grade craft capable of extremely high altitude, speeds of up to mach five, and an arsenal of rockets, machine gun fire, even nukes, if outfitted correctly. The jetship was, in fact, one of the most advanced tactical fighter aircraft money could buy, designed originally by NASA scientists who were now on the Syndicate’s payroll. Though they were very small, these fighters were extremely versatile, designed for a crew of up to three people. They were not only equipped with stealth technology, but also state-of-the-art cloaking devices that could render them virtually invisible to the naked eye, albeit for only a few hours at a time. The trick (technically known as ‘electromagnetic camouflage’) was achieved by employing a series of thousands of miniature lenses which refracted light around the vessel and created a transparency effect that would fool any but the most trained observer. Heading further south, Shiva continued across the Sonoran Desert, following the path of the Rio Grande, before banking in a sharp westerly direction, towards the northern Mexican state of Baja California. With all the technology at his disposal, this was still the safest method of crossing the border into Mexico. Flying directly south from San Diego would run the risk of being spotted by either US Border Patrol or the media, who often pointed cameras at the fencing around the major cities, to produce TV documentaries about illegal immigration. No, flying cloaked through the desert was advisable as far as the Syndicate was concerned, even if it did cost a lot more in fuel. Once he reached the farmlands on the outskirts of the city of Tijuana, just east of the mountains, Shiva banked the jetship and landed it quietly on the edge of a cornfield, the thrusters blowing the long grass into a frenzy. It was the dead of night, and the ship had enough power to keep it cloaked for the next four hours – ample time for him to complete his mission and return to US airspace before arousing any suspicion from the numerous agencies who were no doubt watching the area. He killed the engines, popped the hatch, then leapt down onto the long grass, his head already turning this way and that, surveying the lay of the land, gauging the situation on foot. Satisfied that he remained undetected, he began sprinting at a steady pace, west towards the mountain pass. The shadow of the mountain loomed in the moonlight, casting a sinister ambience over the entire area, and as he passed from grassy fields onto craggy desert sands, Shiva relished the opportunity to stretch his legs. It had been a while since he had been out in the field, since he had actually been sent on a dangerous mission on behalf of Mr. X. It was the danger and the action that Shiva really craved, as it served as a constant reminder of his impermanence, his mortality, his vulnerability. Knowing that he could be killed at any given moment if he was not careful, gave him an addictive adrenaline rush that he could not achieve anywhere else, least of all when performing his mundane office duties as Chairman of

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the Syndicate Oversight Committee. Though his duties in that post were extremely important, second only to the great work done by Mr. X himself, it still did not compare to the excitement of getting his hands dirty, of using his considerable skill and experience in the field, getting things done personally and precisely without having to rely on others. Of course, when Shiva had first been recruited to the Syndicate in 2005, much of his early work had been in the field, continually proving his worth to Mr. X, who had employed him for his innate ability to get the job done no matter what the cost. Shiva had been a soldier serving in Iraq, and by opening fire on unarmed civilians during a mission in Baghdad, he managed to kill a number of terrorist suspects without having to go through the tedious and time-consuming process of negotiation and interrogation. Granted, it hadn’t been his original intention to do things that way… he’d actually flown off the handle after hearing about the deaths of his family in Japan at the hands of the Zeed – but it turned out he was the kind of person Senator George Xetheus was looking for. Shiva would have been court-marshalled for his actions on that day, had it not been for Mr. X’s intervention. Shiva felt he owed the man his life. Now, it was mostly down to the likes of Rudra and the Syndicate’s other top assassins to carry out these tasks, but occasionally, whenever Shiva did get sent into the field, he felt liberated, in a way, like a man in his prime should do – and that’s what X’s revolution was all about. It took several minutes for Shiva to reach the base of the mountain. Wasting no time, he skilfully clambered up onto the first rocky incline, heading towards a cave opening that yawned before him like the mouth of doom. According to Syndicate spies operating in this area, this network of caves was where Enigma was hiding out, eluding the Mexican authorities. He was not only wanted by the law; he was wanted by no less than three Mexican drug cartels as well, though exactly what he’d done to piss them off, Shiva did not know. The rocky walls of the cave were slightly damper inside than out, but that was not to say that moisture was abundant. The air smelled of dung, and small scorpions scurried about underfoot, forcing Shiva to watch his step. Being stung by a scorpion in this remote place would probably cost him his life. The cavernous passageway twisted and turned, boring its way deeper into the mountain for some distance. He passed multiple forks in the tunnel, forcing him to choose a direction at random, unsure of which one would lead him to his target. Just to be safe, he left battery-powered flares at periodic intervals along the way as a means of finding his way back, lest he become totally lost. The deeper he went, the darker it got and the thicker the air became, until the atmosphere became so oppressive it was difficult to breathe, convincing him he’d been sent on a wild goose chase. After following the cave for about forty minutes, he decided it was time to stop for a breather. He sat down on a flat rock surface that glistened welcomingly in the darkness, pulled off his backpack and dumped it on the ground, bringing his flashlight close to his chest. As he recovered, he watched his hot breath condense in the beam of light cast from the torch, noting how much the temperature had dropped in just the past few minutes. He closed his eyes briefly, centring himself, going through an ancient meditation technique he had learned from his father. Suddenly, he felt the alarming sensation of a large, cold blade pressing itself into his throat, held by a strong hand that had jumped out from the shadows behind

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him in an instant. Shiva blinked his eyes open, cursing himself for dropping his guard, realising that he was now at the mercy of whoever wielded this knife. “Who are you?” a voice hissed from the darkness. Shiva took a deep, sharp breath. “I am a friend. I have come here with an offer for you. Are you the one they call ‘Enigma’?” The pressure on his neck intensified as the man in the shadows pulled the knife even closer into Shiva’s neck, drawing blood. “How did you find me?” the voice insisted. Shiva’s mind was racing. His life now depended on what he said to this man, so he would have to choose his next words very carefully. “I represent… an organisation… whose influence extends into every country, every faction, every field of industry and science on this planet. An international crime Syndicate. We were able to locate you quite easily using our considerable resources… but I assure you, I am not your enemy. I come to you as a friend…” The grip on the knife seemed to relax a little. “Who sent you?” “The Syndicate Boss. A man we like to call Mr. X. He has an offer for you, I think you won’t be able to refuse.” Shiva felt the knife slip away, and an outstretched hand shoved him forward, knocking the wind out of him. Recovering quickly, he turned to face the mystery man. Standing there, still holding the knife defensively, was a young man who looked over ten years younger than Shiva, surely no older that twenty-one. Blonde hair fell over a pale face which looked hideously scarred and swollen. He looked as though he’d been in a train wreck. A patch had been drawn over one eye and his clothing was ripped, burned around the edges, exposing the muscular, powerfullooking arms and torso beneath. Shiva didn’t doubt for a second the man knew how to fight. He spoke with an American accent, sounding Californian, but Shiva couldn’t be too sure. “Speak,” the man said. “First, tell me, are you the one called Enigma?” Shiva demanded. The man nodded. “That is what I have become known as, yes. You still haven’t told me your own name.” Shiva nodded. “Leon Shiva. It’s good to finally meet you, Enigma, even if we did get off on the wrong foot.” Enigma regarded him for a moment, then said, “What is this offer you bring, Leon Shiva?” “An offer of employment for your… unique talents,” Shiva told him. “And I assure you, the rewards… will be great. Take a look inside my backpack. It’s by your feet.” Enigma glanced down at the bag cautiously, then, keeping the knife raised, slowly kneeled down and pulled open the top zipper. Inside, dozens upon dozens of rolls of crisp hundred-dollar bills stared up at him. “There’s a million dollars there, my friend,” Shiva said, “and that’s just for starters.” He could see from the twinkle in Enigma’s blue eyes that he was already convinced.

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5

LAPD Central Division, Downtown Los Angeles April 15th

The trouble with being the Chief of Police in this city was that it was the hardest job to do well if you were, like William O’Hara, on the payroll of Mr. X’s Syndicate. It was simply a contradiction in terms. On the one hand, he strived to bring justice and peace to the city, indeed, it was why he’d gotten into policing in the first place. He had a dream, many years ago, of a city where ordinary folks could wander the streets at night without fear of being mugged, raped, beaten or murdered. He had worked his way to the top of the policing career ladder, so that by now he was in charge of all the policing in greater Los Angeles for this very purpose… On the other hand, he was accepting bribes from a criminal Syndicate that represented everything he had gotten into law enforcement to rid the city of in the first place – drugs smuggling, extortion, racketeering, kidnapping, illegal weapons, assassinations, even, he heard, immoral and unsanctioned experimentation. It was like he had gone back on all his principles and responsibilities, was betraying his friends, and in a way, betraying himself. You’re a coward, he thought to himself, as he strolled down a corridor towards the briefing room. A low life, dirty coward. The reason he was accepting bribes from the Syndicate was, quite simply, a personal one. It wasn’t just that the organisation’s agents had threatened to murder his wife and children, but also his need for the money, and Mr. X was quite happy to throw vast sums of it in his direction as long as the Syndicate could continue to operate unbound, as long as O’Hara continued to cover for them. After the global recession that had stung the financial markets over the past several years, O’Hara had become desperate. His house had dropped considerably in value and he’d been forced to sell the family’s SUV just to be able to afford a single month’s mortgage repayment. He was starting to find himself counting the pennies, having to scrimp and save, as if his wage (which was one of the highest paid civil jobs in California) wasn’t enough to cover his expenses. When Mr. X had offered him that first million dollars, his attraction to that well-needed cash had easily overruled his concern about X’s shady dealings, so there had been no question. Looking back, maybe it was wrong, maybe he was a total hypocrite, a corrupt cop who needed to go to jail for a very long time, but… the Syndicate was by now so powerful, so influential, that he was guaranteed a level of protection that would ensure he kept his position for a very long time. It was as though he had been seduced into a world of evil, from which there was no escape, only death. He passed through the briefing room door and saw that his staff had already gathered there for the meeting. Many of his best and most loyal cops were present: Captains Jones and Davies, Sergeant Gutierrez, even Sergeant Hunter, who was still

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looking a bit lost and down on himself since the mysterious disappearance of his partner, Sergeant Stone, from that hospital. There were about thirty officers present, from what he could see at first glance, and they all got to their feet when he strode into the auditorium-style chamber, carrying a document file under one arm and looking strained, like a man who carried too many concerns and needed a lie-down. “Please, be seated,” he said. He put the document file down on an expensive, solid oak table at the front of the room, opened it, and pulled out a series of papers and acetate slides, separating them into neat piles. Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of Marlboros. He extracted a cigarette from the packet with his teeth, then lit it with a lighter in the other hand. He sucked on the cigarette for a moment, his eyes rolling back slightly from the pleasure of the much-needed nicotine hit, then pressed a concealed button on the wall, activating a ceiling extractor fan. It whirred into motion, quietly sapping the smoke from the air. “I know I shouldn’t be smoking in here,” he said, “but I’ve had a real shitty morning, up to my eyeballs in phone calls from the mayor’s office and from the LA Times. Seems this situation has been leaked to the press already, which can’t be good. I’ll get straight to the point.” He took an acetate slide and walked three steps to an overhead projector. He placed the slide on, then switched on the device. Someone at the back of the room pulled a cord, closing the blinds, blocking out the daylight, and the projection became clear: six photographs in all, each showing a smiling face that wouldn’t look out of place in a college yearbook. “Over the past week, as you know, we’ve had six bombings in this city, each of them powerful enough to destroy an entire building along with everything inside, including, thus far, any kind of incriminating evidence that could allow us to catch the perpetrator. Now, as it turns out, each of these seemingly random bombings are linked: in each one, a high-ranking FBI official was targeted. A list of the murdered agents has just been sent to me by the Bureau, and you’re looking at it.” “So what are we dealing with here, sir?” someone on the floor asked. “Someone with a grudge against FBI agents in general, or something a little more organised? More specific?” O’Hara took a long, deep puff off his cigarette, tapping the ash onto the floor. This was where his job became extremely difficult. He knew for a fact that the Syndicate was responsible for the killings – each of the FBI agents had been involved in a case that was looking at tracing the organisation and exposing it – but he was being paid, indeed blackmailed, to keep this information a complete secret, in order to protect the interests of Mr. X. The fact that these… assassinations… had been so public was unfortunate. Two shots in the dark would have been enough, and that could have been swept under the carpet quite easily. But six bombings in the space of a week? The media had begun to speculate that terrorists were responsible… and in a way, they were right. The difficult part of O’Hara’s job now was to try and strike a balance between throwing everyone off the Syndicate’s scent, and appearing to do what he could in his public role as Police Chief, and bring justice for the deaths of these FBI agents, for these atrocious crimes. It was just another typical day for him really, only on a slighter larger scale. “It appears to be the case of another maniac bomber operating randomly within the city,” O’Hara lied. “The FBI have managed to physically identify the bomber using public security cameras, but his actual identity remains a mystery.” He moved to change the overhead slide, replacing it with a grainy camera still of a man

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running across a parking lot at night. It was genuine evidence provided by the FBI that he was obliged to use, even though it did indeed show a Syndicate agent named Enigma. The Feds were still convinced they were on the trail of a criminal organisation, so O’Hara needed to play his cards right in order to contain this situation accordingly. Mr. X had authorised him to use the image while he ‘dealt’ with the situation at the FBI Headquarters in Washington. O’Hara didn’t doubt for a second there would be some kind of explosion, fire, or accidental choking at that place before long. X’s assassins were very efficient. Adam Hunter frowned. The person in the camera still looked strikingly similar to his partner, Axel Stone. “He kinda looks like Axel,” he observed. O’Hara nodded, half-amused by the comparison. Stubbing out his cigarette butt beneath the heel of his shoe, he said, “Yes, he does, doesn’t he? Apparently though, this guy goes by the handle of ‘Enigma’. He’s an insurrectionist, a free radical, last seen on the border with Mexico causing trouble with the drugs cartels there. We currently have no further data on the actual identity of the bomber, but he should be considered armed and dangerous. I want to put out an All Points Bulletin with what little info we have; let’s try and stop his movements before he kills again.” “We’re working with the Feds on this operation, sir?” That was Captain Davies. O’Hara nodded. “You’re to liaise with their agents whenever necessary, and to share information in order to bring down this maniac. Okay, you’re dismissed. Go, people, go.” The assembled police officers began to file out of the room with a hushed urgency. Many of them would still have questions, O’Hara knew, but he wanted to avoid answering them as much as possible for now, especially when it came to a sensitive issue like this. He had every confidence that Mr. X’s agents were already well on the way to covering their asses completely, if they hadn’t done so already, but he couldn’t be too careful. He had to play it safe as much as possible, wait for further instructions from Mr. X, and feed the inevitable cover story to the media to seal the deal. He felt dirty, the lies and deceit weighing on his soul, and he silently hoped that God would forgive him for what he was being forced to do, and allow to happen for the sake of his own future happiness. Adam Hunter stayed behind when all the other officers had left, and asked him, “Sir, have you had any news yet?” O’Hara shook his head, genuinely concerned. “I’m afraid not, Adam.” He could see that the young rookie officer was still cut up about the disappearance of Axel; it had shaken the entire department. The absence of any forensic clues to what happened made it even harder to deal with. “We’re still working on it, believe me. We aren’t giving up on this one. We’ll get Sergeant Stone back, alive and well. We just have to be a little more patient.” Adam nodded, but still seemed unsatisfied. “Sir, I’d like to join the team in the search, if I may. Axel and I have been through a lot together. I know if our situations were reversed, he’d do everything he could to find me.” “I understand, Adam,” O’Hara said, patting him on the shoulder. “But we already have both the Missing Persons Bureau and SVU on the case, so he’s in the best hands right now. I need you on the Enigma case. I’m sorry.” Adam nodded resignedly, then left the room in the same direction the others went.

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O’Hara watched him go, then looked up at the grainy overhead projection still that showed Enigma’s face. It really did look like Axel Stone.

FBI Headquarters Washington D.C. 8:55 pm

At the end of his working day, John Marling, Assistant Director of the FBI, went through the usual routine of filing his papers into his briefcase and locking up his office. It was a fairly cold evening outside, so he put on his trench coat and wrapped a brown scarf tightly about his neck, then made his way to the elevator, saying goodnight to his secretary as he went. The ride down to the basement level in the elevator was quiet as usual. By now most of the day workers had already gone home, and the skeleton crew that manned the building at night was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle first thing in the morning. He watched the readout above his head gradually work its way down, 5…4…3…2…1… When it reached ‘B’, the rumbling elevator chimed, and a monotonous female voice announced, “Elevator stopping. Basement Level. Parking Lot.” He took a deep breath, looking forward to dinner with his wife and a stiff drink at the end of a very stressful day. As he walked through the mostly empty parking lot, he noticed without much thought that the security cameras on this level had stopped working. If he had been extra observant, he would have noticed that the wires had been cut, but he was tired, and still had a lot on his mind. He put it down to a mechanical fault; they had, after all, experienced intermittent power outages throughout the afternoon. What did strike him as strange, though, was the eerie silence, even for down here, and when he reached his car and unlocked it he looked around, convinced he was being watched. Shaking his head, he opened the driver side door and got in, switching on the ignition. It wasn’t until he buckled his seatbelt that he checked his rear-view mirror, and saw that there was a dark-haired woman in the back seat, pointing a gun at his head. It had a silencer attached. “Rudra,” he said, recognising the assassin’s face from the FBI’s Most Wanted list. “So you’ve come for me…” Phut-phut. She pulled the trigger twice. The shots hit Marling in the base of his skull, blowing clean through on the other side, casting a large splatter of blood and two neat bullet holes through the windshield. Dead instantly, the man’s body jigged and slumped forward onto the steering wheel, pressing down on the horn. A trickle of blood ran from the exit wound on his forehead, which was the size of a golf ball, his eyes bloodshot and staring lifelessly. A moment later, the left rear door of the car was open, and Rudra was already gone.

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6

Oakwood, the “Ghost Town” Venice Beach District, Los Angeles April 19th 7:31 pm

It wasn’t every day that you saw this much activity surrounding a derelict factory in a quiet suburb of Los Angeles, thought Adam Hunter as the police cruiser pulled to a stop at the sidewalk. But it also wasn’t every day the LAPD co-operated with the FBI to bring down a terrorist suspect who had been setting off bombs all over the city. His heart pounded in his chest, beneath a bullet-proof Kevlar vest he’d strapped on hastily during the car journey, and he took a deep breath to compose himself, nervous as hell, before opening the vehicle’s passenger side door and stepping out onto the pavement. He turned his head, surveying the scene, taking in the impressive sight before him, anxiety passing over him in waves, like nausea. “Not a minute too soon,” Gutierrez said, getting out the driver’s side. There had to be at least a dozen police cars situated at strategic points around the factory perimeter, along with another half dozen FBI cars, large black Sedans, reinforcing their positions. At the east and west wings of the building, two large SWAT vans were at the ready, their teams already gearing up for the task ahead. The entire scene was a bustle of frenzied activity and preparation, with over a hundred law enforcement personnel involved in total. They had even brought in the big guns should things get really hairy, an incendiary blast cannon borrowed from the military. It seemed a little excessive, considering they were only taking down one man, but it was better to be over-prepared for a situation than to face the alternative. The terrorist known only as Enigma had been traced to this abandoned industrial unit just three hours earlier. He’d been visually spotted going inside by a press helicopter that circled the air overhead, now broadcasting the entire scene live on CNN. He hadn’t been seen since, which meant, they assumed, he was still inside and laying low. That was, again, assuming there were no secret escape tunnels underground, but that seemed unlikely due to the nature of the building’s foundations. None of the law enforcement personnel that had assembled here knew what to expect once they got inside the building; the schematics for the factory had been destroyed when the former owners, a car-manufacturing company, had gone bust several years earlier, abandoning the factory altogether. But the FBI had managed to get a brief description of the layout from a former employee who still lived in the neighbourhood. It was the best they had, and was surely better than nothing. Adam went with Sergeant Gutierrez, jogging across the crowded scene to join Chief O’Hara, who was at the forefront of a handpicked, assembled team that was scheduled to go in first. Right now they were going through their final equipment checks. “Ah, there you are,” O’Hara said, pleased to see them. “I was beginning to wonder if you had got my message.”

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“Sorry we’re late, sir,” Adam told him, moving to join the assembled group. “We were stuck in traffic.” O’Hara nodded, watching them take position in the line-up, pleased they had managed to put together most of their equipment in the car. “Well, you’re here now, so finish prepping your gear. You’re actually just in time. We’re going to send in the first group in… round about five minutes.” Adam nodded. He was as ready as he’d ever be.

***

The team was given the order to move in at precisely 7:45 pm. They had moved to the factory’s rear entrance, a cargo door that operated on a shutter mechanism, and as they stood poised, waiting for one of the SWAT team members to blow the lock, Adam clutched his Beretta to his chest, wishing he’d been issued one of the automatic P90 assault rifles wielded by the FBI guys. For as much as he was a sharpshooter when it came to target practise with his standard-issue police pistol, the extra security you felt when you were standing behind a machine gun’s trigger, giving you that steady burst of continual fire, could not be matched. In comparison, he felt naked wielding a pistol. Still, the pistol weighed very little, so he counted the fact that he would be a lot more agile this way as one of his advantages. Either way, he was shitting himself about taking part in this siege, even more so than he usually felt when it came to situations like this. Having been a member of the LAPD for three years, you’d think that he would have grown accustomed to this sort of thing by now, but he hadn’t. The truth was, it never got any easier, no matter how many times you did it – he recalled hearing forty-year veterans describe the fear that still gripped them during a siege many times, something that never truly went away. It was a fact of life he was going to have to deal with. The factory door’s lock peeled open in a flash of light, and the officer in front bent down to yank open the shutter. There was a groan of metal as it flapped away, revealing the pitch dark, dusty corridor within that disappeared around a corner. Flashlights strapped to the barrels of guns blinked on, and then the team was moving, at a pace somewhere between a trot and a jog, their weapons raised, through the doorway and around the first corner. “Go, go, go.” Blinking sweat from his eyes, Adam regarded the signs hanging from the bare walls as they passed: Fire Exit…. Caution, Encapsulated Asbestos…. Authorized personnel only beyond this point…. The light from his torch swayed as he moved, steel piping and red-painted hand rails caught in the circular-shaped beam, shadows twisting and bending away from the light. As they progressed further in, a low, ambient humming noise became more evident, like the sound of distant machinery. Undeterred, the crack squad of fifteen police officers, SWAT and FBI drive onward, and once they got into the main heart of the building, the first of four main

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factory floors, it soon became very apparent that this derelict factory was not as ‘abandoned’ as they had originally thought. A large series of bluish overhead strip lights were activated, casting a spooky luminescent glow over the floor, which was covered with row upon row of tanks – plexiglass and steel container tanks filled with some kind of bubbling purple goo, connected together by wires and tubing, linked up to all manner of computers and blinking devices. Scattered in the aisles between these tanks were tables covered with racks of test tubes, clipboards with computer printouts displaying test results and scientific formulae scratched in biro. The entire scene was very eerie indeed, totally unexpected, and Adam had no idea what had been going on here, or what Enigma was up to. He picked up one of the computer printouts they passed, allowing his eyes to focus on it for the slightest moment. It read,

Spark Genome identified!!!!! Extraction to begin 04/01/13 Onihime to authorize T/789

What the hell did it mean? Adam’s best guess was that Enigma was performing some kind of genetic experiments in here, but the exact nature of these experiments was unclear. He was no scientist, and he didn’t suppose any of the other guys here could make head nor tail of these things either. The point man raised a gloved hand, held in a fist, giving the signal to stop. The group fell motionless almost immediately, cautiously aiming their flashlights at every possible angle, covering all their bases. Up ahead, the distant, but distinct sound of a woman crying could be heard. As they listened, Adam frowned, then his jaw dropped in recognition. “I know that voice!” he whispered. “That’s Tina Stone!” “Are you sure?” asked the point man. He was an FBI agent called Hollister, a twenty-five year veteran. Adam nodded. “Positive. Listen.” The sound of her crying intensified, turning into a plea for help. “I’d recognise that voice anywhere,” Adam said, continuing to nod. “It’s such a distinct, husky voice.” Hollister took a deep breath. “Well, it looks like we have a hostage situation here.” He grabbed for his radio, pressing the transmit button. “O’Hara, this is Agent Hollister. Come in.” The radio clicked, then a garbled voice came across. “Go ahead.” “We have reason to believe there may be one or more hostages involved, sir,” Hollister said. “Sergeant Hunter believes that one of them may be Tina Stone.”

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A moment of silence, then, “Ten-four. Proceed as planned. But be extra vigilant.” “Copy that.” Hollister signalled the group to continue moving forward, toward the distress calls. “Let’s pick up the pace a little,” he instructed. They moved through the second and third factory floors in swift silence, noting that these areas were similarly equipped as they passed through. It was such unusual equipment, and Adam wasn’t sure he’d seen anything like it before. Tina Stone’s calls for help were growing louder and clearer the deeper they went into the building, until it became clear that they had to be emanating from the fourth chamber, which was up next. They were so close now, the tension rising to boiling point. Adam swallowed dryly in the depths of his throat. So Tina was alive! He took a deep breath, trying to get to grips with the gut-wrenching revelation, hoping that the emotions he was feeling right now would not interfere with his ability to perform his job effectively. He’d been believing over the past few weeks that Tina, or Amber, as Axel liked to call her, was dead, killed in a car accident just prior to Axel’s own car crash that had put him in that coma. Chief O’Hara himself had told him the news… How could someone make a mistake like that? Rather than being dead, it seemed that, instead, she was being held hostage by some madman bomber. It was all so crazy, so confusing, and it took all the energy he had to put aside all of his questions and doubts for now, and just concentrate on the mission. When they reached the doorway leading into the fourth and final factory floor, Hollister signalled for the team to split up. They piled in, covering multiple aisles of the strange tanks, so they could flush out this Enigma bastard more efficiently. Adam went with Hollister, moving directly up the central aisle, and as they reached the halfway point, they saw Tina Stone directly ahead. She was naked, dangling by her arms, suspended by a rope cord hanging from a large robotic arm once used to assemble automobiles. It was dangling her precariously over one of the vats of purple, liquid goo. Whatever that shit was, it couldn’t be good, and right now Tina was being slowly lowered in by the hydraulic arm, already submerged up to her pelvis. “Help!” she cried again. Her head and neck drooped, then lifted again, as she struggled to remain conscious. She looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept in days, and her blonde hair was dirty, hanging over her face in knots. It took all of Adam’s strength not to cry out to her at first sight. “Cut her down,” Hollister told him, “but stay alert. We’ll cover you.” Adam nodded, then quickly ran the short distance to the robotic arm, climbing a small flight of steps connected to its base, presumably used originally for maintenance purposes, which now gave him enough height to reach the cord. He pulled his combat knife from his trousers, then started slicing quickly at the rope, aware of how exposed and vulnerable he was as he did so. Barely conscious, Tina blinked, frowning as she looked at his face. “A…Adam?” she said. “Is that you?” “Yes, it’s me, Amber,” he said. “It’s good to see you again. I thought you were dead. Don’t worry, sugar. We’re gonna get you out of here.” He freed her left arm, which fell on his right shoulder, bringing her face close to his. As he cut the cord that bound her other arm, their eyes locked, and Adam could feel her hot breath on his face. Her gaze moved to his lips and she was drawn to them, feeling the urge to kiss him as her right arm came around him, but then the moment

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was over, and she was being lifted out of the strange purple vat and carried to safety. A female FBI agent took her into her arms, wrapping a clean blanket around her body, then was joined by a couple of others to escort the traumatised young girl away. Adam watched her go, happy that she was safe, then ducked his head in surprise as a crack of gunfire suddenly pierced the air, and he felt bullets whizzing past his head. He hit the deck, expertly rolling across the floor to take cover behind a large bulkhead. Bullet holes pocked across its surface, and he could tell from the sound that the weapon being fired was a semiautomatic, probably an AK. “Christ,” he muttered, trying to peer a glance round the side of the bulkhead from where he was now squatting, attempting to ascertain the shooter’s position. There – somewhere up above, in the rafters – he saw a fiery burst, then quickly ducked back out of sight, the loud pang of the rounds against the cold metal stinging his ear drums. It was Enigma, it just had to be. “Open fire!” Hollister shouted from somewhere. Adam heard a symphony of gunfire break out, the entire chamber being lit up like a fireworks display at Disneyland. Mere seconds later, the shooter’s aim had changed, and Adam heard shouts from his colleagues on the floor. “Man down! Man down!” He wiped sweat from his brow with his forearm, then dived out into the fray, lifting his firearm towards his target, squeezing the trigger. The kickback knocked his arm back slightly, and he squeezed the trigger again, and again, emptying his clip, before diving for cover again and reaching into his combats for a fresh clip. There had to be at least ten people shooting at him right now, but Enigma wasn’t down. Whoever this guy was, he was good. Adam cycled a round into place, then his gaze followed the balcony area from which Enigma was shooting, and he saw that there was a ladder only a few feet away that allowed access to that upper level. He didn’t hesitate, leaping for it and climbing its rungs, hoping to God that his colleagues could hold the guy off long enough for him to get up there in one piece. Scrambling to his feet at the top of the ladder, Adam swiftly made his way around the balcony, bringing him closer and most importantly, level with Enigma. As he got within range, he got a good look at Enigma’s face, then frowned, blinking sweat out of his eyes, hesitating. Axel…? He swallowed, took aim, trying to decide which part of the body to shoot. He had but a split second to choose whether this man should live or die. Adam chose to shoot him in the leg, and he saw Enigma double over in pain as the bullet tunneled into his thigh. A second shot to his shoulder put him down. The gunfire in the room ceased, replaced by a thick cloud of smoke that billowed and rolled, reducing visibility to a minimum. Adam still had his weapon raised as he approached the fallen Enigma. When he saw that the guy was unconscious, he relaxed, then called out, “All clear. We need a medic up here!” He heard commotion from the other guys on the floor as they scrambled to deal with the aftermath of the fight. Gingerly, he moved to roll Enigma over onto his back, in order to get a better look at his face. A wave of horror and uncertainty crept over him then, as he realised his suspicions were correct. He had just shot down Axel Stone.

***

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Five months later Buena Vista Community General Hospital September 4th

Adam and Tina watched with baited breath as Axel Stone, laying there in the hospital bed as he was, blinked open his eyes, frowned, then closed them again, groaning at the pain that thundered through his system. “What happened?” he croaked. “Where am I?” Then he opened his eyes again, and when he saw Tina, his face lit up with joy, cutting through his pain. “Amber!” he cried, tears swelling in his eyes. “Is this a dream?” Tina Stone smiled. “It’s no dream, Axel.” She took a step closer to him and bent down to kiss him on the forehead. “Welcome back to the land of the living, brother. It’s good to have you back.” “But I thought you were dead…” Tina smiled. “That was all just a big misunderstanding. I’m alive, and that’s all you need to know for now. Save your strength.” Axel nodded, and seemed to relax, a contented murmur issuing from his throat. “Thirsty,” he managed. Adam took a glass of water from the bedside table and held it in front of his partner’s face, allowing him to sip through the straw. Axel gulped back the cool liquid quickly and eagerly, then thanked him. “What’s the last thing you can remember?” Adam asked curiously, one eyebrow raised. Axel frowned, shaking his head. “I… it’s all a big blur right now. I think… yes. I remember driving home from work. I took Santa Gertrudes, and then… I crashed. Jesus, I crashed my car!” Adam and Tina exchanged a silent glance, satisfied their friend and brother was back. “How long was I out?” Axel asked. “You were in a coma for six months,” Tina told him. “It’s now September 4th, 2013.” Axel sighed a half-laugh. “Really? Fuck. I missed my birthday. So what’s been happening while I was out?” Adam had to think carefully about how to reply to that one. “It’s been… interesting, to say the least. But hey, I’ll pick up a copy of the LA Times so you can catch up. For now, you need to recover your strength, my friend.” Axel nodded, and closed his eyes. Adam turned to leave, and he saw Tina silently mouth ‘thank-you’ to him. He put his right hand on her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze, then moved for the door. Adam Hunter didn’t like to make a habit of lying to his friends, but everyone… Tina, the psychiatrists, even the FBI, was in agreement that this was for the best.

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7

Syndicate Headquarters Mojave Desert April 3rd, 2027

Axel didn’t know what to say. He sat there in silence, dumbfounded, staring at the surface of the table, unable to meet Shiva’s gaze. Shiva stood beside his swivel chair, his right arm resting on its back, staring down at him with a pitiful look in his eyes. “What’s the matter, Axel?” he asked. “Cat got your tongue?” A million-and-one questions flooded through Axel’s mind, but he knew this wasn’t the time, place, or indeed, the person he should be asking them. One thing was for sure though, Shiva’s story made a great deal of sense, and had managed to fill in some of the blanks in Axel’s memories, restoring actual recollections about those lost six months that had, up until now, been but shadowy images, a ghostly montage of feelings and voices that had, he had to admit, plagued him as recurring nightmares in the past. Nightmares he’d been trying to ignore. Everything Shiva was saying brought these memory fragments together and made them complete, like slotting together the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Axel looked up at Shiva. There was still so much he wanted to know, but he couldn’t be sure how much longer Shiva would humour him. “So tell me,” he said, “why was it exactly that the Syndicate kidnapped my sister, and faked her death?” “She was intended to be a test subject, a guinea pig, if you will, for a gene therapy experiment that was closely linked to Project Homo Superior.” Shiva bent down to his desk and pulled out a file from the bottom drawer. He handed it to Axel. “This is Greek to me,” Axel complained, staring down at a bunch of equations and raw unprocessed data. Shiva nodded. “Nevertheless, those numbers represent the reason why your sister was short listed as one of the ideal subjects for this particular branch of research. Our genetics and cloning experts, Onihime and Yasha, could explain it to you in detail, but I’m afraid they’re predisposed at the moment.” Axel handed the file back to Shiva with a grimace. “So you wanted to fake her death in order to ‘keep’ her, and do with her as you pleased, for as long as you needed.” “That was the general idea, yes,” Shiva said. “An asset. Much like Blaze Fielding, who we basically ‘owned’ from the very beginning.” Axel shook his head in dismay. “You people never stop to think about those who get hurt by your actions. Always using the ‘greater good’ as an excuse.” Shiva chuckled. “Spoken like a true hero. But I’m afraid, Axel, the world has no room for heroes anymore. Just ask your so-called friend, Adam Hunter.” He pressed a button on his desk, and a small panel on the wall behind him slid back to reveal a security monitor. It showed a live black-and-white video feed, being

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transmitted from outside the complex. Adam Hunter, completely unaware that he was being watched, was attempting to infiltrate the base, wearing what looked like desert camo gear. “He’s no doubt trying to rescue you,” Shiva observed. “Unbeknownst to him, though, our satellites have been monitoring his progress across the desert for some time, tracking his every move. Rest assured, he won’t get far. I have a couple of surprises in store for him before he gets anywhere near close to us.” He laughed then, like he knew something Axel didn’t. Axel squirmed in his seat, staring up at the footage, wondering what the hell Adam thought he was doing by attempting to penetrate the base’s defences all by himself. Then he frowned slightly, wondering how Adam could have kept such a big secret from him for all these years. He cleared his throat, then looked at Shiva. “So Adam knew that I was this… Enigma… for the past fourteen years,” he observed. “But how did something like that go over the Syndicate’s head for so long? I thought the Syndicate would have been… influential enough to know about it. I mean, if the Feds knew about it…” “A very good question,” Shiva nodded, licking his lips. “It just goes to show that under its… former management, the Syndicate’s spy network didn’t always run as perfectly as it should have. Let’s face it, there’s a reason that Mr. X isn’t with us today, a reason that Operation Shadow Hand failed.” Axel smirked. “I think you played a significant part in his eventual downfall. You and Rudra. If you hadn’t turned against him six years ago, during that military siege on his base in the Himalayas…” “You’re quite right, Axel,” Shiva agreed. “But again, there were reasons for my betrayal. Not just my growing dislike of the man himself – if you could even have called him a man by this point.” Axel sighed, watching Shiva pace up and down the room. “What happened to you, Shiva?” he asked. “Just before the Sons of Darkness came onto the scene, it seemed that you had turned over a new leaf. You surrendered yourself willingly to your sentence at Arkham Asylum, you showed remorse for what you had done, or at least what you had a part in doing. Even after your escape from Arkham, you still helped Firestorm recover the Essence of Jutsu, and track down the Sons of Darkness so we could defeat them.” “My agenda has always been my own,” Shiva told him frankly, sitting down in his chair. “You should know that by now, Axel. Have you learned nothing about me in the, what, ten, eleven, twelve years we’ve known each other?” “Fourteen, if you count this Enigma thing.” Shiva leaned forward, watching Donovan enter the room behind Axel. “Indeed. So please, don’t paint me in black-and-white. I’m not a ‘good guy’ or a ‘bad guy’. I’m just a guy, doing my own thing, and I answer to nobody.” “But what you’re doing is wrong. Have you no conscience?” “Of course not,” Shiva grinned. He stood up, and the panel behind him opened. “And now, it’s time for the evening entertainment. Come over here, Axel.” Donovan pushed an automatic rifle into the base of Axel’s spine. In the glass walkway on the far side of the heroin plant, a door opened. A woman was pushed out by a guard and left alone as the door closed. She had no clothes on. “We call it the Lambeth Walk,” said Shiva. “A good old Cockney entertainment.” Three more women, also naked, were propelled onto the walkway.

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“They have to make a complete circuit,” said Shiva. “The workers like to stand underneath and watch.” “Who are these women?” “They’re no-one. They’re prostitutes. Most are addicts. They get scooped up along with the workers. When they’re losing their allure, after say two or three days, I let the men have their way with them.” “You what?” He didn’t like the sound of that. “The guards lead them down into the factory floor and the men take them outside. It’s free entertainment and it’s good for morale.” “And what do you do with the girls afterwards?” Shiva looked at Axel curiously. “Why, bury them, of course.” Then he turned back towards the entry where the girls were coming in and smiled. “Oh, do look, Axel. There’s one just coming out that you’re sure to recognise. I think the men are going to go crazy for her.” “It’s as well for you my hands are tied, Shiva,” said Axel. He spat the words. “Tough talk, Axel, but I don’t think you pose much threat to me in your current state.” Shiva nodded towards Donovan, then looked at Axel. “Don’t you want to look at your wife? Everyone else is. And by the sound of it, they like her a lot.” Axel glanced through the window. Blaze was running the gauntlet naked along the glass walkway, trying to preserve her modesty with her hands while an armed guard prodded her with a rifle butt and the workers roared their approval from below. “Don’t think that Blaze can just use her homo superior powers to escape, either,” said Shiva. “She’s been given an injection to neutralise her abilities, the effects of which last for over forty-eight hours.” Axel swore succinctly. “And if you find it so distasteful,” said Shiva, obviously enjoying himself, “you can return to your cell.” Shiva beckoned to Donovan and gave him a brief instruction in Japanese. “We’ll send your wife in to join you tomorrow evening, Axel, once the men have had their way with her. We won’t let them have her tonight. I want to build up their appetite first.”

In the solitude of the cell, Axel tried to form a plan of escape. It was possible that he could jump a guard and take his gun, but not until he had somehow loosened the nylon ropes that were biting into his wrists. Even then, he didn’t want to do anything until he had the basis of a plan for getting himself, Blaze and Adam out of the Syndicate’s lair. Eight hours passed with no food, no water, and no sign of Blaze, or Adam’s rescue attempt. Axel’s mind whirled, not only with the stress of his current situation, but also Shiva’s revelations about this Enigma character, this ‘dark side’ of his personality. What made it worse was the fact that he was beginning to remember the darkness... The darkness that had been responsible for a mass murder – the coldblooded killings of several Federal agents in a bombing spree that had, it would seem, been covered up by both the LAPD and the FBI. The real question was, why had Shiva chosen to reveal these things to Axel now? And could this darkness take him over again?

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8 Adam’s Incursion

Mojave Desert 5:47 pm

So much for the surprise attack, Adam Hunter thought, as he scrambled into the driver’s seat on the left-hand side of a nearby Jeep. It was empty and inviting, bearing Syndicate markings, with the key in the ignition. He’d been spotted, and now there was no time for tactical retreat. This was the moment to go hard. He gunned the engine, rammed the gear lever into first and dropped the clutch. The four drive-wheels screeched, then gripped the desert earth. The Jeep went forward with such leaping eagerness that Adam was almost thrown from his seat. He battled with the steering wheel and regained control as he put his right foot down and worked up through the gears. He felt the weight of two cargo chests in the back shifting from side to side on the ruts and potholes of the sanded track. He saw a flash of machine gun fire from the hillside on his left, glanced up to where some Syndicate goons were firing from behind rocks. He heard a bullet whine off the Jeep’s bonnet and wrenched the wheel from side to side to make himself a harder target. Then came the heavier wheeze of a hand-launched rocket, and the road in front of him exploded into a ball of spitting rock and sand, shattering the Jeep’s windshield and filling his eyes with dust. Adam dashed his sleeve across his eyes to clear his vision. A long shard of glass had cut through his cheek and impaled itself there, with the sharp end in his gum. Gunfire started from the hill to his right, and he became aware that another vehicle was close behind, though he had no time to check what it was. He knew only that he had to keep going. Automatic fire intensified from the hills to his right, and ripped through the flimsy passenger seat-back, ricocheting from the steel frame. It seemed the whole landscape had come alive in its insane hunger to take down the intruder. Adam’s knuckles stood white on the wheel and blood ran down his cheek onto his sweat-drenched shirt. He roared loud in anger and defiance, then rammed his right foot flat down against the floorboards while the dense gunfire hit the body of the Jeep like mad sticks clattering on a snare drum. Suddenly Adam was in the air, catapulted from his seat by a grenade explosion beneath the axle. He landed on his left shoulder, agonisingly, rolled over and made for the cover of a rock. He glanced back to see the Jeep upside down on the road, the wheels turning frantically under the command of the trapped accelerator. As a bullet embedded itself in a crevice of the rock behind him, Adam looked round and saw an access point to an underground water system that had to run into the Syndicate base. Sprinting zigzag across the stony ground, he ducked down behind the raised earth, and found a sheet of corrugated iron across an entrance. Hurling the sheet aside, he lowered himself in and dropped fifteen feet into cold water. For a moment, he had time to think. It was possible that no one had seen him, though he doubted it. Right now, it seemed like his best bet of getting into the base in

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one piece, and that was the important thing. Stranded or dead outside in the desert, he was no use to Axel and Blaze. Somehow he had to find a way through. The water was waist-high and cold. Adam lowered his face into it and carefully withdrew the piece of glass from his cheek. Then he tossed it aside, wincing at the stinging pain. A pistol shot disturbed the surface of the water. Someone was at the access point, firing down. Adam began to make his way upstream, fording through the water from the distant mountains. The current was such that it was hard to make progress, and the level of the water was rising the further in he went. He ducked beneath the surface and swam for as many strokes as his lungs permitted, but when he surfaced he could see that he had managed only a few yards. Another shot went past him. They were now in the water with him. Adam pushed on with all his strength, but he could see nothing in the darkness of the torrent. He couldn’t turn back, into the teeth of his armed pursuers, so he had no choice now but to continue. Forging onwards, thrashing desperately now, Adam dipped his head beneath the flow and swam again, making one last push forward with his arms in the torrential darkness. He swam for what seemed like an endless eternity, then his left hand encountered something different as it jutted from the surface of the water: dirt. There was an opening in the tunnel, and against the rush of water he managed to grip its rocky side, shoving his way up. Half inch by half inch, with his lacerated and bleeding hands, his hip seizing with cramp, he pulled his way agonisingly upward. A ray of light broke the surface above him, then came a draught of dry, burning air. With a low growl Adam rammed his uninjured shoulder against the hard rim of earth above him, until he was able to push himself up completely and his head at last was clear. With almost unbearable pain, he worked his shoulders, then his torso through the hole. Finally, he levered his waist and legs out and collapsed on to the sand, gasping and moaning as he fought the fog of unconsciousness. When vision returned to him, he lifted his head, and saw that he had successfully infiltrated the main compound of the Syndicate base. What made things even better was that nobody was around, and it didn’t seem, at first glance at least, that any alarms had been raised on this side of the main wall, or that he was being shot at. There were a few security lights, but nothing that worried Adam. He knew that whoever was pursuing him through the tunnel wouldn’t take long to catch him up, so rather than hanging around he kept moving, keeping to the shadows at the side of the central hangar building until he had to break cover. He made his way round the side of the building to the door he’d seen on the satellite images provided by Murphy earlier that day. It was padlocked. With his pocket knife, he set about probing the small levers inside. The lock gave way, and he pushed open the wooden door. He moved quickly inside the building and went up a set of dusty stairs. This didn’t seem like the most high-tech of Syndicate bases he’d seen in the past, but its appearance to the outside observer as an old, abandoned military facility was good cover. He was surprised, now that he was actually inside, at the lack of security – even worried by it. It was very unusual for the Syndicate not to have all manner of robotic sentries guarding its bases, so the lack of any here meant he was either walking into a trap, or the Syndicate was finally running low on its seemingly endless fortune and was being forced to make cutbacks. At the top of the stairs, he went along the gangway to the entrance into a metal hangar. He unlatched the door and went inside.

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This has to be a trap, he thought. It’s too easy… There – in the centre of the room, was an infernal machine, a gigantic device, that the FBI, Interpol, and Firestorm had all suspected was being built by the Syndicate… “So it does exist,” Adam muttered to himself. The outline of the World Devastator filled his view. It was an awe-inspiring piece of engineering work. Something like this could only have been designed by the Syndicate, he thought, and it was a frightening reminder of the organisation’s ingenuity and power. Adam began to take pictures of the beast, this superweapon that had the potential to destroy the entire planet. The noise of his tiny digital camera was barely audible, and he didn’t bother to look through the viewfinder. He just pointed and fired. He went down on to a lower gantry to get closer to it. The NWO Security Forces were going to have a fit when they found out this thing was real. As he raised the camera once more, he heard a loud voice in the echoing hangar. “More light, Mr. Hunter?” It was a Hispanic accent, one he recognised. Suddenly, the hangar was drenched with dazzling light. Adam threw his arm across his eyes to shield them. All around him he could hear the thunder of booted feet on the clanging metal walkways. The voice came again. It was amplified by a megaphone. “Put your hands on your head, Mr. Hunter. The party’s over.” Adam looked along the length of the illuminated World Devastator. As he did so, he saw part of what looked like a cockpit slide back hydraulically. From the open space appeared the body of Antonio, the Syndicate’s man in charge of its drug operations. He hauled himself out, then walked along the top of the vast weapon towards Adam, a semi-automatic rifle in his hand. He lifted the barrel and pointed it at Adam’s head. He was now close enough for Adam to see the expressionless features in the dead-seeming flesh. There was the sound of a single shot then, and a crushing pain behind Adam’s ear made the hangar suddenly go dark, the blackness flooding his brain.

The next few hours passed in a delirium of fatigue and pain, through most of which he slept. He was aware of his descent into an underground fortress, of being stripped to his underwear and thoroughly searched. His torn clothes were returned to him. When he next came to fully, he was in a stone cell with Blaze asleep next to him. There was no sign of Axel. He ached in the fibres of each muscle, and shifted on the sand to try and find a position that hurt less. He winced in agony, collapsing in an uncomfortable heap, cursing the Syndicate and its relentless ability to bounce back to full strength, no matter how many times they were supposedly ‘defeated’. After the defeat of the Sons of Darkness and Mr. X two years earlier, Adam was sure that the Syndicate was finally gone for good – they all were. The apparent ‘magical’ powers of these Sons of Darkness, which Mr. X had absorbed into himself by the end, making him a virtually unstoppable, godlike entity, was successfully neutralised by Joe Musashi’s ‘Essence of Jutsu’ artefact, and once X was mortal

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again, it was Adam that had delivered the final, fatal blow, ending his life for good. No clones, no magic, no robots, no possible way for him to return. Yet somehow, the Syndicate itself had survived, and apparently moved on quite happily without its illustrious, yet totally insane, founder. Firestorm had no way of knowing the Syndicate would survive, but looking back, it was kind of naïve of them to figure that it wouldn’t. It had happened, what, three, four times in the past now? Still, Firestorm was convinced it was finally victorious, and after the destruction of its headquarters in Colorado at the hands of Abadede (who had been dispatched by X to recover the Essence of Jutsu), they lacked sufficient funding to be able to continue their operations as they once had. By 2026, Firestorm had been mostly disbanded; Joe Musashi returned to his homeland of Japan, Dr. Zan returned to MI7 in Neo London, and Adam, Axel and Blaze returned to their lives in Los Angeles, but after all they’d been through together, things would never be quite the same for them again. Then, just after New Year’s Day in 2027, rumours began circulating that the Syndicate was indeed back, and this time they were developing a superweapon capable of blowing up the world. Why the Syndicate would want to achieve this was anyone’s guess, but after their activity in the past, it didn’t come as a great surprise. The FBI, along with Interpol and agents of the NWO Security Forces, became convinced that the rumours were founded in truth, and by February, Adam, Axel and Blaze were reunited and Firestorm was reborn, albeit in a slightly different capacity than before. It was now owned and operated by Interpol, who acted as a liaison of sorts between Firestorm and the NWO government, who were now funding operations against the re-emerged Syndicate. Now, here they were. All three of them, it would seem, captured and at the Syndicate’s mercy, though where was Axel? Adam cleared his throat, rolled over, and looked at Blaze. She looked terrible. “Blaze?” he croaked. “Are you alright?” She was unconscious, but the sound of his voice brought her round. “Adam?” she frowned. “Is that you?” She coughed violently, pale as a ghost. “Yeah, it’s me,” he reassured her. “I’m here. Still in one piece, I think. But where’s Axel?” “I don’t know,” she replied. She was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, looking upset and defeated. “I haven’t seen him for several hours. Not since we were taken into Shiva’s office. We got separated after that…” “Shiva?” Adam repeated. “Don’t tell me he’s taken over the Syndicate – again.” Blaze nodded. “Yep. The situation doesn’t look too good at the moment, to tell you the truth… The ball is well and truly in Shiva’s court…” “It gets worse,” Adam said. “I’ve seen the World Devastator up close. It’s real, and it’s right here, on this base…” “Fuck me,” Blaze whispered. “So it’s just as we feared?” Adam nodded. “Yeah. And it’s probably worse. It usually is.” He spoke with a cynical tone in his voice, sounding tired and up to his eyeballs in dread. There was a moment of silence then, as tried to figure out their next move. “Can’t you bust us out of here using your powers?” he asked. Blaze shook her head. “They’ve given me some kind of injection. It’s neutralised the effects of my aura. I can’t do anything. Besides, I’m exhausted right now.”

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Adam sighed, and tried to get to his feet. His muscles refused to comply, and he collapsed to the floor. He cursed to himself, wishing things were different. “Do you think Axel is alright?” Blaze asked, sounding worried. “I mean, they could be torturing him for all we know.” “I don’t know, Blaze,” Adam told her. “I really don’t know.” “Looks like the Syndicate has won this round,” Blaze said. Adam took a deep breath, nodding. “Maybe. But this war isn’t over yet.”

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9 Fateful Injection

Axel Stone awoke to the sound of his cell door being unlocked, the metal bolt unlatching itself and a key being turned in the hole on the other side. A moment later the door swung inward violently on its hinges, making a high-pitched groaning sound, kicked open by whoever was there. There was a jingling noise of keys being moved about, and then Donovan marched confidently into the cell, grinning, baring his rotting, gold-capped teeth. Without saying a word, he walked straight up to Axel and cut the nylon cords that bound his hands, using a thin boot-knife he had pulled from a small holster on his waist. Once Axel’s hands were free, Donovan put the knife away, then grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him roughly to his feet. Still grinning, he head-butted Axel hard in the face in one, swift motion. Axel recoiled, taken by surprise, the unexpected force of the blow cracking his nose and drawing blood. Before he could respond to the attack, Donovan sent a tightly-clenched fist cracking into his jaw, then slung his right boot into Axel’s chest, knocking him back down to the floor. Axel grunted. “What the fuck, man?” Sudden adrenaline coursed through his veins, surging through his bulging muscles, forcing him awake, alert, and ready for this fight. He wasn’t going to let this ugly bastard beat the crap out of him and get away with it. Gritting his teeth and focusing his anger, he rolled to his feet, then leapt at Donovan, bringing him down in an expertly-rehearsed football tackle. Donovan landed hard on his back, then Axel drove his fists down into the thug’s face, smashing repeatedly until both his nose and jaw were broken. Donovan screamed and pulled out the boot-knife, lunging it towards Axel, who dodged, the blade missing his torso by mere inches. Axel got up and took a couple of steps back, gathering himself. Donovan stood, his face now covered in blood, his jaw hanging limp with most of his teeth snapped. He spat, blood and teeth, then roared, “I’m going to enjoy killing you, Axel. And once I’m done here, I’m going to fuck your wife in the ass.” He spat blood again, grinning. “Or maybe I’ll fuck her in the pussy. Or all three holes. It’s all good to me.” Axel stepped forward, grabbed the bastard by the neck with one hand, and wrestled for control of the knife with the other, overpowering him fairly easily with his superior strength. Donovan yelped, and the boot-knife clattered to the ground. Axel kicked it aside, then sent a hand sailing into Donovan’s gut. The thug doubled over, and Axel followed it up with a powerful uppercut across the goon’s jaw. As Donovan stumbled back, momentarily stunned, Axel reached for the knife then brought it up, over and down, hard, into Donovan’s left shoulder, the blade cutting into flesh and artery, splitting bone. In the same motion Axel retracted the knife, then sent it into the man’s heart, cracking two ribs and puncturing a lung as he did so. Donovan screamed, a liquid gurgle, then collapsed to the ground, his eyes

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staring blankly. A pool of blood quickly gushed from the multiple stab wounds, giving off a nasty, coppery odour. “Good job, Axel,” came a woman’s voice. “A little more excessive than I had intended, but good nonetheless. Now, I’ve got you right where I want you.” Axel turned to face the woman, still reeling from the fight with Donovan, his heart racing. It was Rudra, standing right behind him, no more than two feet away, holding a large, loaded syringe over his head, squirting a short test-burst of its bluish liquid contents into the air. “This won’t hurt a bit,” she breathed. Rudra jammed the needle down hard into his neck, taking him completely by surprise, then pressed down on the plunger, giving him the full dose of whatever the fuck was in there, emptying the syringe completely. “Now, hold still,” she said. “This will only take a moment. It’s a shame that Donovan had to die for this – that wasn’t really necessary. But I suppose he brought it on himself. Maybe talking about your wife like that was a bit too much. Still, I did instruct him to make you angry. I had to make sure you were angry first – the drug works much better that way…” Axel howled, both in agony and surprise, cursing himself for allowing them to dupe him so easily. Rudra had used one of the oldest tricks in the book, and he’d fallen for it, big time. “Good night, Axel,” Rudra said. He stumbled back, the injection having an immediate effect on his motor functions. He expected to die there and then, expected that he’d been poisoned, but rather than fading to black or going into anaphylactic shock, he started to breathe heavily, feeling more and more aggressive and powerful, like he could kill and smash everything he saw… In his sudden rage, he roared and leapt toward Rudra, but she was expecting his violent outburst and stuck an M-18 Stun Defence Taser into his ribs, its output level set to maximum. “Down boy,” she said calmly. The electrical shock jolted Axel back, disorientating him slightly, but not dimming his anger, his incessant rage. As the hatred boiled up inside him, reaching fever pitch, he began to realise he was losing his mind. He suddenly couldn’t remember where he was or what he was doing here. And then, seconds later, his name… Ax…? Excel? No, it was gone. He couldn’t remember his name. He stood there for a moment, completely still, as the drug-induced transition finished taking effect. Then he started to breathe a little more easily, memories beginning to return, slowly at first, and then flooding back to him like water through a broken dam. Rudra smiled. “Good boy. Just let it take over you. Let it flow.” He turned to look at her, and frowned slightly. “I know you,” he said. “You were there before, after I was born…” “Yes,” she said, taking a step closer now. “Can you remember your name?” He stared down at his open palms, at the dead, blood-soaked body of Donovan on the ground, then back at Rudra, smiling blankly as he did so, his eyes betraying no actual emotion, his pupils bolt. “Yes, I remember now,” he said. “I am Enigma. Scourge of the Syndicate.” ***

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“Move slowly round and put your fingers against mine,” said Adam. “Can you feel something sharp? It’s a piece of glass embedded in my hand. I only noticed it a moment ago.” Blaze shifted her weight uncomfortably across the hard, sandy floor of the cell, cursing. Her butt was sore, and she ached all over. She would have given anything for a pillow right at this particular moment. That, and a stiff drink. “Yes,” she said, “I can. Jesus, Adam, it’s huge.” “Twist yourself so it’s against the rope on your wrist, then slowly start to rub. I don’t know if there really is a camera up there in the ceiling – I suspect not – but we can’t take any chances.” It took Blaze almost two hours of imperceptible movement to fray the nylon cord sufficiently to break it before she set to work at the knots that secured Adam’s wrists. Eventually, she had loosened the knots enough for Adam to slide one hand free. “I calculate it’s early evening, about six o’ clock,” Adam said. “Which means it won’t be long before this so-called ‘evening entertainment’ you told me about kicks off. But don’t worry, we won’t let them touch you, Blaze. We’ll make our move once they open the door, and hope that we’re lucky. At any rate, it’s our only chance.” Blaze nodded. She said nothing for a while, but Adam could see she was warming to the idea, psyching herself up for the action ahead. “Are you hungry?” said Blaze, eventually. “Ravening.” “What would you most like to eat?” Adam thought. “Something easy on the stomach to start with. Scrambled eggs. Then some Kentucky-fried chicken, perhaps. Then some pasta and some roast beef. A bottle of whisky and some red wine.” “Anything else?” “I’d like to have it in a hotel room. With you, sitting naked on the bed.” Blaze smiled coyly. “Cut it out, Adam. What would Axel say?” Adam managed a laugh. “Ain’t nothing wrong with a little flirtation, baby. Seriously though, you know I’d never betray Axel’s friendship…” “I only wish the guards here were just as honourable.” “We’re gonna be fine, Blaze,” he reassured her. “Now, come and lie close here, until I tell you it’s time to move. Think about that hotel room and try to sleep.” “Mmm. I’m there,” said Blaze, only half-joking. When Blaze slept, Adam’s eyes scanned the ceiling for any sign of a camera lens. It was dark in the cell, with only a little light filtering through the half-closed grille in the door from the electric lamp in the corridor outside. When he judged it was about seven o’clock, Adam stood up carefully and helped Blaze to her feet. It was time for the guards to take her away now, so someone would be coming at any moment. Blaze massaged Adam’s injured shoulder and kissed the deep cut in his cheek where the glass had gone through to his gum. “Thanks for coming to find us. You’re going to have a good time at the dentist, aren’t you, my sweet?” He grimaced.

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“One last thing,” said Blaze. “Promise me, the first thing we do, if this works, is to find Axel.” “That’s the plan,” Adam said, “and we’ll see if we can’t do something about this World Devastator, as well. God knows something like that cannot be left in Syndicate hands.” He turned to the door and levered his aching body up until he was wedged above the lintel. “Okay, let’s try it.” Blaze put her mouth to the grille and let out a long shriek. There was no sound from the other side, though Adam knew there was someone in the vicinity. He’d heard them only a moment before. Still, no footsteps was better than too many. “Try again.” “Ssh. They’re coming.” Adam could hear someone approaching. A torch shone through the grille. “It’s time, little lady,” a coarse voice said in a strong Japanese accent. “The men have been waiting eagerly for you all day. They grow hungry for your flesh.” There was a pause, then, “Where is the man? Where is Hunter?” “Sleep. He’s hurt. Shoulder.” Blaze mimed exhaustion and pointed to a corner beyond the range of the guard’s vision. “Come quickly, and you can be the first to fuck me, right here in the cell.” She tugged at the waistband of her work trousers. The guard hesitated. Blaze took her breasts in her hands and lifted them into the middle of the torch beam. There was the sound of a key in the lock. The door opened and the guard came in. As he turned to shut the door, Adam fell onto the man’s shoulders, put his hand across his mouth and his other forearm across his windpipe. Blaze slid the guard’s gun from its holster on his hip. Adam snapped the man’s scrawny neck with his bare hands, staying silent. When the guard was dead, Adam led Blaze down the passage from the cell and out into the labyrinth. They ran along the empty corridor until they came to an elevator. Adam watched Blaze’s slim figure go in first, then followed closely, pressing a button for the next floor, which housed another cell block. “We’ll try the next floor,” Adam said, staring at the dead guard’s gun tucked into the waistband of her trousers. Blaze nodded. It was only a few seconds before a red bulb began to flash above the door, and they were bathed in harsh, blood-coloured light. They heard the screech of a siren, then the barking of furious Alsatian dogs and the sound of feet pounding outside the door as the elevator crawled to a stop and chimed. “Shit,” was all Blaze could say. Within a moment, they had six semi-automatic rifles against their heads and three Alsatian dogs, barely restrained by their handlers, leaping at their faces. Then, at the end of the corridor they saw a burly shape, silhouetted in the night lights as it approached. “Oh, my God,” Adam whispered, feeling a strange and new emotion at the sight of Enigma as he came closer. His heart skipped a beat. “Axel?” Blaze breathed, looking confused. Enigma barked two words in Japanese as he approached. The guards backed off a little and made room for him. “Going somewhere?” Enigma said, and an evil grin split his face from ear to ear.

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10 Enigma Revealed

As they were marched through the labyrinthine corridors of the base, with Enigma up front and the six-strong group of armed guards bringing up the rear, Blaze Fielding-Stone had to struggle to fight back the tears. Here was Axel, her husband of six years, the father of her child and the man she loved desperately, now seemingly brainwashed and acting with a completely different personality. “Axel,” she called, a tear breaking its way through and rolling down her cheek. “What’s going on here? Why are you doing this? It’s me, Blaze. Don’t you recognise me?” Enigma turned his head without stopping. “Silence, woman,” he barked. “For the last time, you must have me confused with someone else. I know nothing of this ‘Axel’ you speak of. Pester me with your insane ramblings no further.” How could this be? Blaze thought. She knew this man was Axel, because he had the exact same face, the same skin, the same scent… even his hairstyle was the same. Still, there was something fundamentally different about him, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, a darkness or emptiness coming across that her Axel never had. “Save your questions for Mr. Shiva,” Enigma told her. “We’re on our way to see him right now.” Could this be a clone of Axel? Or a robot? she thought. During the Syndicate Wars of 2019, Firestorm had encountered a robotic duplicate of Axel called ‘Break’, but it had been destroyed in an explosion, and bore a much less striking resemblance to the real thing than this man did. It was possible that he was a clone, she supposed, but she doubted the Syndicate would have gone that far, after the grand failure that was Project homo superior. Thanks to her own defiance (and a little help from Axel and Adam), the Syndicate had lost countless billions of dollars in that scheme, and had nothing to show for it, so cloning Axel would surely have been a costly and pointless endeavour. No, she was sure that the man before her was the real Axel, but somehow the Syndicate had altered his brain to convince him to work for them. The question now was how they were going to change him back… She remembered the first moment that she had ever met Axel. It was 2015, twelve years earlier. She was a patient at Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital – a place where greed and corruption was rampant – a victim of abuse and endless years of genetic experiments at the hands of Syndicate operatives working for Mr. X. She had given up all hope for a normal life, had never actually known one up until that point (and still didn’t, if she was honest), since her entire family on Cocos Island had been murdered when she was an infant. She had spent years living feral, had been forced to kill in order to survive, her mind a car wreck inside. Her life had been dark and she’d wanted to die, having seriously attempted suicide three times by the time she was twenty.

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Axel, of course, had been a cop, and a very good-looking one at that. One of her first thoughts was that he looked like a demigod, a shining light of hope, when all other lights had gone out. He busted her out of that hospital, going behind the backs of the corrupt Chief O’Hara and the LAPD, after discovering evidence that the Syndicate had a vested interest in that hellhole of a place and was keeping her locked up illegally – exploiting a loophole in the law that O’Hara had been quick to dismiss. Blaze had been attracted to Axel the first moment she laid eyes on him, and he made her feel safe, able to trust him implicitly from the very beginning. He had put his job on the police force in jeopardy, because he believed he was doing the right thing by helping her. Even Adam, who was a bit of a drunk and a ladies’ man, was risking his career for her, and would help them out whenever he could as they fought to avoid capture and clear her name, publicly exposing Mr. X and blowing the whistle on the Syndicate’s activities for the first time. During that first terrifying adventure, Blaze had made love to Axel, giving herself to him both physically and emotionally. She had fallen in love with him, and he had started to do the same. Their relationship blossomed after that, especially after she joined the LAPD and they began working and living together. For the first time in her life, she had began to feel valued, loved and respected, even if it had been overshadowed by the looming spectre of the Syndicate and the threat of Mr. X, who they discovered was building an army of robots on his island base off the coast of California. Their relationship was tested to the limit, as their world changed rapidly around them; the exposure of corruption at the LAPD forcing them to quit the force, the discovery of Blaze’s genetic powers maturing and the homo superior clones, Mr. X’s Project Y and his various other experiments that enabled him to cheat death repeatedly and return to terrorise the world multiple times using increasingly grandiose and insane methods. The formation of the Firestorm detective agency to deal with the threat. Three years after they’d first met, Axel proposed to Blaze, and of course, she’d accepted. It was one of the happiest moments of her life, second only to the wedding itself which took place three years later, in 2021, and the discovery that she had fallen pregnant roundabout the same time. Since she’d been experimented on so much, for most of her life, with gene therapy, radioactive and electromagnetic therapy, drug treatments… she had pretty much been rendered infertile at a very young age, about sixteen years old. So when, at the age of twenty-seven, she had discovered she was expecting a baby, it came as a wondrous surprise – a miracle, she was sure. She was so happy she would be able to give Axel a son. And that is what she did. In 2022 she gave birth to Max Stone, who they had named after a friend and former member of Firestorm killed in the war against the Syndicate. The baby was a ray of sunshine that really cemented her marriage to Axel, and brought them closer together, even more so than before. Little Max was now five years old, and a keen student of martial arts just like his daddy, with dreams of one day leading the Firestorm organisation. Blaze took a deep breath, the memories of the past decade still strong in her mind as she walked at a steady pace in line with the others. Adam walked beside her, looking downtrodden and riddled with guilt and anger. It seemed he knew something she didn’t, probably about Axel, but she figured she’d find out what was happening soon enough, as Enigma led them through an open doorway into the crimson-draped familiarity of Shiva’s office.

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Enigma turned to the six armed guards, and muttered another instruction in Japanese. They stopped and took sentry positions outside, their well-trained Alsatian dogs now sitting quietly by their feet. Enigma closed the door, and then walked over to Shiva, who was standing up from his swivel chair. “Ah, Enigma. Welcome back,” he said. “It’s good to see you. I want to thank you for containing this situation so quickly.” “Good to see you too, sir,” Enigma said. “Congratulations on your promotion to Syndicate Boss, by the way. Rudra tells me we have an exciting project underway.” Shiva chuckled. “Indeed.” He turned to regard Adam and Blaze, who stood there in an expectant silence. A door opened on the metal walkway overlooking the heroin plant, and Rudra stepped in, moving to join Shiva and Enigma. “Good evening, my brother,” she said. Shiva kissed her lightly on the cheek. “You have done well, as always, my sister,” he told her. Shiva gave Blaze and Adam an amused smirk as he sat down in his chair, flanked on either side by Rudra and Enigma. “Please, sit,” he told them, gesturing to the plastic chairs. “Now that everyone’s here, I’d like to get down to business. You’re probably wondering what has happened to your friend Axel.” “What the hell have you done to him?” Blaze demanded. Shiva smiled. “Axel is… shall we say… predisposed. He won’t be joining us today on account of rain. He told me to say goodbye for him, and to wish you all the best for the future.” “Liar,” Blaze said. She glanced at Enigma, who stood with his arms folded across his chest. “What did you do?” “Blaze, I’d like you to meet Enigma. I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure before. Enigma was quite the criminal back in the day, you know. Two years before you and Axel first met, I believe. Enigma played a major role in quelling an early FBI investigation into the Syndicate’s business affairs. He was forced to murder six of their agents in cold blood, paving the way for Rudra’s assassination of their meddling Assistant Director at the time.” “You’re talking about the FBI bombings conspiracy of 2013,” Blaze said, frowning. “I thought that was a suicide cult.” “That’s what the news stories had you believe,” he answered. “The truth was covered up, the truth that Enigma here was actually responsible. In fact, it was Adam Hunter here that helped to bury the story.” Blaze shot Adam a glance. He looked extremely uncomfortable. “What?” she blurted. “Oh, yes,” Shiva said, relishing this moment. “Didn’t you know? Adam’s been keeping it a secret for all these years. He knew all along about Enigma’s existence and his involvement with the Syndicate. It was only due to his intervention at the time, that Enigma was ‘lost’ to us.” “I saved Axel’s life,” Adam said, verging on shouting. “The man was in a coma, thanks to you,” Shiva insisted. “You claim to have save his life – how? By shooting him down? By trying to kill him? Is that how you save people?” “That’s not how it happened,” Adam said. “You’re twisting it.” “What the fuck are you two talking about?” Blaze demanded. “What’s going on here?” “It’s a long story,” Adam sighed. “I’ll explain it in more detail later. Basically, Axel was involved in an accident. He… changed… into Enigma whilst in a coma.”

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“You’re saying Axel is responsible for those FBI bombing atrocities?” She couldn’t believe her ears. “He wasn’t himself,” Adam reassured her. “This Enigma is a different person entirely, inhabiting the same body. A kind of Jekyll-and-Hyde personality.” Blaze went quiet. After her years spent at Edgemont Hospital, she’d seen her fair share of madness. This was right up there. “The LAPD and the FBI put an end to Enigma’s activities,” Adam explained. “But to save Axel’s life, to protect him, seeing as he was technically innocent in all this, we had to bury the truth. At least, that’s how Chief O’Hara wanted it.” “O’Hara is serving a life sentence for treason,” Blaze spat. “Adam, I can’t believe you’ve kept this a secret for so long. Don’t you think something like this was bound to happen?” He shook his head. “I… I don’t know. I was following orders. And so much time has passed…” Shiva was positively beaming with pleasure. “As much as I’m enjoying your little domestic, I’m afraid I have to call an end to it. It’s time for the evening entertainment. A little later than usual, but the men are still expecting you, Blaze. I can’t disappoint them. It’s bad for productivity.” Blaze sighed in frustration. If her aura hadn’t been neutralised by that damned injection, she would have sent a fireball right up Shiva’s ass. “I’m not going out there, Shiva,” she said bluntly. “You can forget it. I’ve had enough of your games.” “Oh, but the games have only just begun…” Shiva said. Enigma stepped around the table and yanked her out of her seat. “Ow!” she exclaimed. “Axel, cut it out!” Enigma dragged her, kicking and screaming, to the doorway out to the heroin plant which Rudra had come through. “You’re going to play, whether you like it or not,” Shiva hissed. Adam moved to defend her, kicking back his plastic chair and jumping to his feet, but froze as Rudra lifted a Magnum to his face and played her finger over the trigger. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she warned him. At the doorway, Enigma punched Blaze heavily in the face, knocking her down. Then he reached down and ripped her shirt off, exposing her breasts. Adam turned his head away. He couldn’t watch. Enigma pulled off Blaze’s work trousers, ignoring her wriggling protests, and when she was naked he shoved her through the door and slammed it hard, bolting it shut. He did it with such iron determination and mean hatred that it was hard to believe Axel’s personality could still be in there somewhere. This was. After all, his wife and the mother of his child he’d just thrown to the hungry, horny addicts outside in the factory. On the other side of the door, Blaze collapsed to the cold, metal walkway, sobbing uncontrollably. The humiliation, the degradation, the confusion of it all was too much to bear. How could Axel do this? Down below, she could see, through the blur of tears, the workers cheering, chanting lewd comments and roaring their sick approval. For a horrifying moment, she was reminded of when she was raped by Dr. Jerrin in the hospital, and the pain and scars, physical and mental, that had come with it. Determined not to be raped again, she got to her feet, trying to focus herself, her eyes darting. She started running, covering her modesty with her hands, moving them only to brush her hair out of her eyes, stuck there through sweat and tears. If she

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could make it around the circuit just once, maybe it would buy enough time for Adam to break free, and she could join him on the other side before the horny men down below managed to get their hands on her. It was a long shot. Adam would have to fight Shiva, Rudra and Enigma in order to save her. But it was her only hope. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

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11 Desperate Measures

Shiva pressed a button on his desk, and the electric panel that covered the window overlooking the walkway slid shut, blocking off the view. He looked at Adam. “You’ll never see her again,” he said. “Accept it.” Adam gritted his teeth. He needed to act, and fast – but what could he do? He surely couldn’t take down Shiva, Rudra and Enigma all by himself – but maybe he’d just die trying… It was better than abandoning Blaze to her fate, especially after he’d promised to keep her safe. He took a deep breath, trying to summon the strength he needed, all the possible courses of action he could take darting through his mind. Shiva had Adam’s digital camera in his hands, and was browsing through the snaps he’d been taking. “I see you’re quite the amateur photographer,” Shiva observed. “You’ve taken some rather delightful stills of our World Devastator cannon…” That got through to Adam. “It’s… an interesting piece of engineering…” he probed. Shiva placed the camera down carefully on the desk, and smiled. “It was designed by Mr. X himself. For years, it was simply a design in one of his notebooks, an idea, like one of Leonardo Da Vinci’s flying machines. But now, after his death, I felt it fitting to finally get construction on the weapon underway, as a kind of last tribute to the life of George Xetheus.” “I thought you hated Mr. X,” Adam said. Shiva shrugged. “Perhaps I did, on and off, these past few years. But he was still a great man who achieved much, and my mentor for many years before that. Still worthy of our respect.” Adam grimaced. “I beg to differ,” he spat. “So what exactly is this ‘weapon’? I’ve heard many rumours…” “The World Devastator is first and foremost a ship,” Shiva explained. “Capable of both air travel and orbital deployment, it supports a crew of up to three hundred personnel. But it’s primary function is that of a singularity cannon.” That sounded bad. “A what…?” Adam asked. Shiva gestured with his hands as he explained the concept. “In a nutshell, the weapon’s core generates a quantum singularity, an infinite space-time curvature. That’s a black hole, in layman’s terms. This singularity is looped and focused into a high-intensity beam, directed at the Earth’s core, where it will grow. The weapon need only be fired once, for its effect is absolute devastation, hence its name.” “It’ll blow up the world,” Adam observed. “It figures.” “Imploding is more the way to describe it,” Shiva said. “Quantum gravity will pull the planet, atom by atom, into the singularity, effectively sucking it inside out, crushing its mass into an infinitely tiny event horizon of zero-volume. The black hole will theoretically be sustained long enough to absorb the moon as well.”

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Adam shook his head. “But why? Why would you possibly want to do that? It’s insane.” “Have you ever heard of Lee Smolin and his cosmological natural selection theory?” “I can’t say I have, no.” “He was a researcher at the Perimeter Institute for Theoretical Physics in Canada. He suggested that the rules of biology apply on the grandest of scales… The theory surmised that a collapsing black hole causes the emergence of a new universe on the ‘other side’. Mr. X, along with Dr. Dahm, who designed the technical aspects of the device, was a firm believer that on the other side of a black hole, a ‘big bang’ occurs. All universes were and still are being created this way, like bubbles in boiling water, in the eleven-dimensional realm we call ‘hyperspace’.” “Yeah, yeah,” Adam laughed. “You think that by destroying the world, you’ll be creating a new universe?” Shiva grinned like a madman. “It’s more than that, my friend. I want to become God on the other side.”

Adam was in no doubt that Shiva had lost his mind. “And what about you, Rudra?” he asked, looking at her. “Are you a believer in this unverifiable, pseudospiritual, pseudo-scientific mumbo-jumbo?” She answered by backhanding him across the face with a gloved arm. “My brother is a genius,” she hissed. “Men throughout all of history have strived to become gods. Just look at the Sons of Darkness, and what they managed to achieve with their evolution-acceleration technology. Leon is simply taking it a step further.” “If you hadn’t noticed,” Adam said to her, “the Sons of Darkness are dead. Some gods they turned out to be…” Rudra snorted. “They came from a time before we had mastered quantum – “ Before Rudra could finish her sentence, Adam leapt at her, knocking the Magnum from her hands, sending the boot of his right foot into her face. She fell back, and then Adam punched her hard, aiming at the solar plexus between her breasts. Something cracked, and she collapsed, instantly unconscious. Like a lion, Adam lifted his head, surveying the area, looking for his next kill… Enigma charged at him, driving an uppercut forwards, but Adam saw him coming and leapt to one side. He retaliated with a roundhouse kick, countering Enigma’s move and sending him crashing to the floor beside Rudra. Enigma roared, and leapt almost instantly back to his feet. The air around him grew hot, and then, impossibly, his right arm burst into flame. Adam, taken off guard, could do nothing but watch as Enigma swung his arm around three-hundred-sixty degrees, casting a small wall of fire around his body, knocking Adam back. Enigma grinned. “I call that my ‘Dragon Wing’ attack.” Adam didn’t know for sure how Enigma had managed to achieve full-blown pyrokinetic abilities, but after all he’d seen with the Syndicate’s homo superior and homo universalis experiments, it didn’t come as much of a shock. He sent a fist driving forward, straight into Enigma’s face. This wasn’t easy, fighting Enigma, as technically every blow he landed on the man’s body he was in fact putting on Axel. It didn’t feel right, like he was beating up

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his best friend, but on the other hand he had to defend himself otherwise Enigma was going to kill him, he was sure. Enigma punched back, blocking Adam’s lazy attacks, catching the ex-cop in the eye with a left hook, followed up by a double cross and a firm kick to the shins. Adam cursed. Enigma was tough, but he had to have a weakness. Unfazed, he bounced back, surprising Enigma, putting him in a neck hold, then punching his trapped face and slamming him to the floor with as much strength as he could muster. Without giving him any time to recover, Adam lifted one of the plastic chairs and swung it violently into Enigma’s chest. Groaning, Enigma slumped, and didn’t get back up. He just lay there for a moment, recovering. Adam didn’t doubt that he had mere seconds before Enigma would get back up. The time to act was now, and he couldn’t afford to hesitate. “I’m sorry, Axel,” he breathed, then lifted the plastic chair and sent the four metal legs stabbing down into Enigma’s chest. Meanwhile, Shiva cracked his knuckles together, stretched, then leapt to his feet once Enigma was down. “Now, it’s my turn!” he roared.

When Blaze reached the end of the circuit, she cried out in desperation. The doorway to Shiva’s office was still locked, and the panel shutters had been closed. She couldn’t even see through the window, so now she was completely cut off from Adam. Down below, the crowd of hungry factory workers roared. To her horror, she saw that some of them were scaling the walls, trying to reach the catwalk to get her. She screamed, feeling grasping fingers clawing at her bare feet from under the grille. She stamped down hard, trying to crush the fingers beneath her heels, but she only managed to succeed in weakening the metal grille, and a moment later it crashed downward, dislodged from the catwalk. Blaze’s mind whirled as she plummeted a level to the factory floor. She landed heavily on her front in a heap of metal and plastic debris, suffering a large gash on her left thigh, impaled by a piece of tubular piping. She cried out, unable to stand, now completely helpless as the crowd of thugs closed in on her from every direction, like vultures around a carcass. She grunted, felt clammy hands grabbing her lower legs, and she was dragged away from the debris, leaving a trail of blood that pumped rapidly from her open wound. The metal piping still protruded from it, and made a scraping noise against the hard floor as she was dragged. Someone pulled her up then, and bent her over a metal railing violently so that her legs were spread and her buttocks were perched high in the air, her jerking arms held down by others. Her heart thundered against her ribs. The air was thick with testosterone and sweating anticipation as one of the men approached her from behind, unbuckling his trousers. Adam, she thought desperately. Where are you?

***

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“Final Crash!” Shiva sent a vertical kick smashing into Adam’s jaw. Adam was running low on reserves. Defeating Rudra and Enigma in the space of a couple of minutes had been no easy feat, and facing Shiva right now, who was at the absolute peak of his abilities, was proving to be even tougher than he’d anticipated. He stood exposed for a moment, seeing stars, his face black-and-blue, blood running down his forehead. Shiva laughed, sending a red fireball blasting into Adam’s already bruised chest. Adam was knocked back, dazed further. He landed heavily on his butt, close to the downed body of Rudra. “Just give up,” Shiva mocked. “You’re no match for me.” Out of the corner of his eye, Adam spotted Rudra’s Magnum, still resting in her hand. Shiva began to pace toward him, preaching about how powerful he was now and something about becoming God, but Adam wasn’t listening. He lunged for the Magnum, prised it from Rudra’s sleeping hand and shoved the barrel in Shiva’s direction. Shiva’s eyes widened. Blam! One shot was enough. Shiva went down fast, knocked out cold. Adam gasped, getting to his feet, unable to believe his luck. For a moment he considered capping all three of the unconscious villains… killing them while they were down. But then he thought of Axel, and realised he wasn’t the judge, jury and executioner in one. His priority right now was getting Blaze the hell out of there… He rushed to Shiva’s desk, hitting the concealed button. The panel slid back, and the sound of roaring factory workers assailed his ears. He only hoped he wasn’t too late.

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12 Regrouping

Adam ran to the edge of the catwalk and looked down. He saw maybe fifty, sixty factory workers crowding round the railing at one end of the room. Blaze was naked, bleeding, held in a bent-over position despite her protests, and one of the men had pulled down his underwear, preparing to rape her. There wasn’t a moment to lose. Adam held the Magnum high in the air and pulled the trigger, letting off a single shot. The sound of the weapon echoed loudly around the chamber, cutting through the loud noise of cheering and wolf-whistling. The crowd went silent, all sixty heads turning to regard Adam. Some of the men ran, heading for the exits, but the majority of them, including the one with his underpants around his ankles, stayed put. Adam aimed the gun at the half-naked guy, setting the sight directly over the man’s heart. “Let her go!” he shouted, “or I’ll start shooting.” “Bollocks!” one of them roared in an Irish accent. “It’s my turn next!” The crowd laughed, and the half-naked guy turned away again, grabbed Blaze roughly by the neck with his left hand, guiding himself to her open legs with the other, licking his lips, grunting. Sweating, Adam aimed carefully and pulled the trigger. Blam! The sound of the blast reverberated around the chamber, silencing the crowd once more. The shot hit its mark squarely in the back, splattering blood. Half-naked guy did a twisting jig, then collapsed to the floor. Blam! Blam! Blam! Adam started firing rounds randomly into the crowd, cutting down the crazed addicts left, right and centre. In a panic, the crowd scrambled, running for the exits en masse, and Blaze, pinned down as she was, was released. Her naked, bloody form collapsed limply to the floor in a heaped position that told Adam she was going to need medical attention, and fast. As the factory workers ran for their lives, he went back into Shiva’s office, then swiftly started rifling through Rudra’s pockets, looking for more ammo. The shots he’d fired off in the chamber had emptied the Magnum completely, and he had a feeling he was going to need more if they had any hope at all of surviving the night and escaping this godforsaken place. Rudra’s pockets were mostly empty, aside from a red keycard labelled ‘Level 1 Pass’, and an electro-shock Taser gun. Adam took both items, and then noticed she was wearing a small ammo belt around her waist, filled with bullets for the Magnum. There had to be at least a hundred bullets here, but he only needed enough to fill the gun’s chamber and have a few in reserve, just enough until he could find an automatic weapon, something a little more substantial. Quickly, he grabbed as many bullets as he could hold in one hand, stuffing them into the Magnum and his own pockets, the

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sweat rolling from his forehead in heavy droplets. Rudra was stirring. He figured it wasn’t long before these guys woke up. He went back to the catwalk. The factory chamber was now devoid of any people, aside from Blaze and the dead ones he’d shot down. He sighed. Killing people never got any easier, no matter how many times he’d done it, nor how low-life and worthless they seemed. Gritting his teeth, he stuffed the Magnum into his trousers, and then lowered himself carefully down the hole in the walkway left by the collapsed panel. Landing on his feet and bending his knees as he did so, he was able to land on the lower level, which was a considerable drop, without doing any damage. He ran across to Blaze, helping her into the recovery position. “Adam,” she breathed, her dry lips forming a smile. “You saved me.” “Hey, anytime, babe,” he said, his eyes darting, scanning the wounds on her body. “Not a moment too soon, either. Sorry about that.” She shook her head. “You did good.” Then she half-laughed, half-sobbed, frowning, realising she was still completely naked. “Now you really have seen it all,” she said. “I’m a big boy, I can handle it,” Adam reassured her. “I’m sure in a different time and place I’d be happier about this, but right now there’s more important things to worry about than me seeing you naked. I need to fix up that wound, pretty urgently. Luckily I’ve kept up with my first aid training, so we’ll have you patched up in no time.” Blaze nodded, realising that if Adam wasn’t here, if he hadn’t been bold enough to break his way into the base by himself, things could have turned out a lot differently. “Thanks, Adam,” she puffed. “I owe you one.” “Don’t mention it,” he said. “Now, I’m going to pull this metal piping out of your leg. I won’t lie to you… it’s going to fucking hurt, so brace yourself.” Blaze took a deep breath, closing her eyes, then screamed in blood-curdling agony as Adam moved the impaled metal, sliding it quickly out of her thigh. He tossed it aside and it clattered as it hit the floor and rolled away. Blaze screamed again, tears pouring down her cheeks. Adam ripped off strips from his shirt, hastily applying a makeshift tourniquet around the wound. “Here,” he said. “Keep the pressure on it. It’ll help with the bleeding.” “Okay,” she puffed. “Wait here.” Adam moved across to one of the dead workers he’d shot, then quickly stripped the shirt and trousers off one of them. “I’m afraid we’re gonna have to dress you in these until we find something more appropriate.” Blaze nodded. “It’s better than walking around naked. Don’t forget his shoes as well.” Adam brought the things across and helped her dress, then carefully lent a hand as she struggled to her feet. “Are you going to be okay to walk?” he asked. She looked like shit, but there wasn’t anything else he could do for her without proper equipment. What she really needed was proper medical assistance – he was no doctor, after all. “I’ll be fine,” she winced, but Adam could see she was anything but. “Let’s go find Axel and sort out this mess.” Adam nodded. With all this drama, he’d completely forgotten about the AxelEnigma situation, and it dawned on him that he didn’t have a clue how they were going to restore Axel back to normal, or if it was even possible. The last time he had

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to deal with Enigma, the only way to do it was by putting him into a coma, and that didn’t exactly sound like a fool-proof method. “We’ll do what we can,” he assured her.

***

Three minutes earlier

Shiva stirred, wincing at pain issuing from a torn shoulder muscle, and bruising on his chest from the impact of the Magnum round hitting his flak vest. Cursing his own foolishness, he turned, searching his office, and saw Enigma helping Rudra to her feet, both of them looking a little pissed off. “Are you okay, sir?” Enigma asked. Shiva nodded, and pulled off his flak vest, holding it up to the light. The bullet had made a clean hole directly beneath the neck protector, smoke still rising from the burned material. He tossed it aside without a second glance. “I’m fine. Rudra?” She got to her feet. “Yeah, yeah.” Then she frowned, and went closer to the window overlooking the heroin factory. She could see Adam kneeling beside Blaze, nursing her wounds. “Adam Hunter is down there,” Rudra observed. “It looks like he ‘rescued’ Blaze Fielding. How annoying. The utter audacity!” She clenched her fists in anger, flaring her nostrils. Enigma looked at Shiva. “We have to stop them,” he said. “We can kill them now, catch them off guard…” “No, no, no,” Shiva shook his head, checking his wristwatch. It was almost 2200 hours. They had to be in the main hangar in less than ten minutes. “There’s no time for that now. All of this excitement has taken much longer than I had hoped already. We need to get moving.” He headed for the main door of the office, and the others followed obediently. “Don’t forget what day it is,” Shiva said. “You know we cannot deviate from our schedule, even in the slightest degree. We’ve been planning this for months…” Rudra took a deep breath, and nodded. “But what of Adam and Blaze?” she asked. “I thought we needed to eliminate them.” Shiva glanced at her as he opened the door. “Something tells me there will be another chance for that soon enough…”

***

Determined, Adam led Blaze to an emergency fire ladder which ascended the catwalk. He smashed the protective glass, pressed the activation button, and the ladder slid down, unfolding itself. Blaze went up first, with Adam closely following, making sure her tourniquet was secured properly without hindering her movement too much. When they got to the catwalk, they rushed into Shiva’s office, but when they got there, they saw that Enigma, Rudra and Shiva had all disappeared. “They’re gone,” Adam observed. “Dammit.” “What happened up here?” Blaze asked.

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“Good question,” Adam said, bending down to examine the wear of the carpeted floor. “I knocked all three of them out cold, which wasn’t exactly easy.” He shook his head, looking over Shiva’s abandoned flak vest. “I guess they all just came round and took off.” “Well, we need to figure out where they went,” Blaze said. “I’m not abandoning Axel, even if he is on their side right now.” Adam nodded. “The tricky part will be convincing him to come with us,” he said, being honest. “But you’re right. We can’t just leave him here.” He led her to the main doors, and pressed the switch to unlock them. Outside in the corridor, nobody was about. An alarm sounded quietly, but there were no guards, no-one to try and stop them from leaving. “What’s going on, do you think?” Blaze asked. “I don’t know,” Adam replied. He held the Magnum in both hands now, feeling reassured by the hefty weight of the thing. “Let’s try and find out, shall we?” They went to the elevator. When the doors closed and Adam pressed one of the buttons, a voice chimed: “That selection is unavailable during launch countdown. Please try again.” Adam went pale. He knew what that meant. “Launch countdown?” Blaze asked. “What is that supposed to mean?” Adam swallowed dryly. He punched the buttons for other floors, meeting the same response, until he discovered the only one that worked was ‘Hangar’. Yeah. “I think I know where everyone went,” Adam said, almost in a whisper. “They’re preparing to launch the World Devastator.”

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13 World Devastator

When the elevator grinded to a halt at the surface, the monotonous female voice chimed: “Surface level. Main Hangar.” The doors opened. Adam went first, leading Blaze into the large open chamber that was easily two or three times the size of an ordinary aircraft hangar. “Holy shit,” Blaze said, stopping in her tracks. “It’s enormous.” Adam nodded, and together they stared up at the World Devastator in awe. Now that he knew what this thing was and what it was capable of doing, it seemed more awesome somehow, more epic, and for a moment he experienced a brief feeling of impermanence, which made it seem strange that it was possible for a man named Adam Hunter to be alive at this particular moment in the year 2027, gazing up at this colossal machine that had the potential to end the world’s four-billion-year existence, not to mention the six or seven thousand years of recorded human history. The World Devastator, he estimated, was as long as an aircraft carrier, and as wide as four nuclear submarines. It was shaped like a giant cigar, with what looked like cockpit hatches at regularly spaced intervals across the top, about fifty feet or so apart. It was constructed from some kind of dark grey titanium alloy, smooth to the touch and as cold as a refrigerator. There were no windows or portholes. In a way, he supposed it did look like the barrel of a giant gun, or a seventeenth-century cannon, which could have been intentional on the part of its designer. Shiva had referred to it as the World Devastator Cannon, after all. Whatever the inspiration for its design, it was definitely something that could only have sprung from the mind of Mr. X. Only his twisted imagination could have conjured something so evil, so destructive, yet at the same time so mysterious, compelling and almost beautiful. “Well, the Syndicate has finally surpassed itself,” Blaze whispered, nervously touching the shiny alloy. It felt slick like oil to the touch. Somehow, touching the thing made it seem more real, connecting her to the awe-inspiring machine in very personal, almost intimate way. It was probably the biggest man-made flying machine she had ever seen, and that was really saying something, especially after the antigravity thruster was invented almost ten years earlier, paving the way to some very large flying machines in the skies of Neo London, akin to modern-day Zeppelins. There was a burst of static over a hidden announcement system, and a technician’s voice said: “Attention, World Devastator launch will occur in T-Minus seven minutes. Will all personnel report to their launch stations. Any staff remaining on the surface level must reach minimum safe distance in no more than four minutes.” Behind them, the elevator doors closed, and they heard it descend, probably called to one of the lower levels by personnel elsewhere on the base. “Well, they’re certainly not messing around,” Adam said. “Come on, we’d better hustle before somebody spots us.” He grabbed her by the hand, and led her down a flight of steps, leading down to a sunken level of the hangar that housed the belly of the weapon. Here, they weren’t quite as exposed, and it was only when they reached the bottom of the stairs that they saw the massive propulsion system that would lift this behemoth of metal and science into the stratosphere.

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“Jesus,” Blaze said, her mouth hanging open. “This thing really does make their Robot Y look like a small, insignificant bug.” “Yes, it does,” Adam agreed, “which is why we have to stop it. If they launch this thing into orbit and they successfully fire the weapon, we’re all dead. And I mean everyone…” They marched along the bottom of the thing, staring up at it from below. After a few dozen feet, they saw an entry hatch marked:

ENTRYWAY 010 IDDQD RESTRICTED ACCESS – LEVEL 1

“Bingo,” Adam said, and pulled out Rudra’s keycard from his pocket. “I thought this might come in handy somewhere down the line.” He approached the door with caution, and when he was satisfied there were no cameras or laser tripwires installed in the vicinity, he slotted the card into the reader. A little LED went from red to green, and the door clunked noisily as was unlocked. “Gimme a hand here,” he said, clutching the lever. “I really hadn’t planned on going to outer space when I woke up this morning,” Blaze moaned. She stepped forward to help him pull open the thick metal door, and as it opened she felt a cold blast of air escape from within. Only then did the gravity of what they were about to do hit her – and it hit her like a ton of bricks. She felt frightened, fully aware that this was the point of no return. If they failed in their mission, if they were unable to defeat the Syndicate’s plans and rescue Axel from their clutches, then not only their lives, but the world and every living creature on it, was doomed to absolute extinction. No pressure there, then. Adam stepped over the threshold and pulled Blaze in behind him, and in a tense, nervous silence, they pulled the door shut, watching a little computerised screen display some kind of compression sequence which sealed in the artificial atmosphere. Inside the bowels of the World Devastator, the lights were low. The corridor they were in was actually surprisingly spacious and well designed, quite welcoming, and a complete contrast to the military-style, foreboding and cramped conditions that Adam had been expecting. The walls were plain and white, covered with control panels and all kinds of blinking lights and dials, and the air smelled of rubber and metal, the kind of smell you got on subway platforms in large cities. “Which way now?” Blaze asked, feeling a little lost for words. “I don’t know,” Adam said, giving her a slight smile. “I’m making this up as I go.”

***

On the command deck of the World Devastator, Leon Shiva smiled. His computer console blinked, showing that Rudra’s keycard had just been used to gain access to one of the maintenance doors on deck ten, at the very bottom of the ship. The very same keycard that Rudra had reported stolen after their fight with Adam

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Hunter, less than fifteen minutes ago. He knew that Adam and that incessant thorn in his side, Blaze Fielding, were the ones responsible for using the card, and were now aboard the ship, no doubt intent on destroying it before he could achieve his mission. “They won’t get far,” Rudra said, standing behind him. “I’ll see to it. This time, I won’t be distracted by talk so easily. I will kill Adam Hunter with my bare hands, before he has the chance to take a breath.” Shiva lifted his palm. “No, Rudra,” he said. “I want you here with me, on the command deck. I want you to bear witness to this, the beginning of the greatest event in the history of mankind – our rebirth as the new Gods, and the creation of a new Heaven and a new Earth. Our destinies are intertwined, my sister. Your place is here.” “As you wish,” Rudra bowed her head slightly. “It’s just that we had planned for them to die back there.” “And they will.” Shiva turned to Enigma. “We’ll send in Enigma to deal with Firestorm instead, I’m sure he will relish the opportunity, now that he has had a chance to flex his muscles, to demonstrate his full power on those meddling fools.” Enigma nodded. “It would be my pleasure. This Adam Hunter moron won’t be so lucky this time. He will die, slowly. They will both beg for death before the end.” Shiva grinned. “Good to hear it. See to it that they suffer greatly.” He watched Enigma go, pleased that things were going his way. Granted, he hadn’t planned on their embarrassing little ‘defeat’ back in the office, nor for Blaze to be ‘rescued’ from the amusing fate he had planned for her at the hands of his factory workers, but it had only hurt his ego, his pride, and nothing more. Perhaps if Shiva wasn’t wearing a bullet-proof vest back there, the gunshot would have proved more damaging. Adam Hunter had basically just gotten lucky, and lightning never hit the same place twice. The way things were, it simply meant that the deaths of Adam and Blaze were delayed a little longer than he’d originally intended, that was all. His plan was unaffected, and would go ahead as scheduled. “T-Minus four minutes,” called a technician from one of the workstations. “Bring the main thrusters online, and let’s power up the ignition matrix,” Shiva ordered. Technicians buzzed around the command deck like flies, inputting numbers into computer terminals and flipping switches. As the engines powered up, there was a faint rumbling sensation, but for the most part the weapon was silent running. Dr. Dahm had designed it well. A pity he was not alive today to see his masterwork come to fruition. “What are you thinking about, brother?” Rudra asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. Shiva smiled at her. “It just feels like my entire life has been building up to this moment,” he told her, “as if events have inexorably led up to this final conclusion. It feels like mythology in the making. Remember when I died almost ten years ago?” “When you fell from the roof of that skyscraper in Hong Kong?” Rudra nodded. “Of course. I was the one who made sure you were resurrected through Project homo universalis.” “Exactly. Resurrected, like the Christ.” Shiva licked his lips. “And now, it is time for my ascension into Heaven.” “T-Minus two minutes.” The technicians were addicts who blindly followed orders, indoctrinated through both drug-induced religious experiences and the promise of their next fix. They would follow Shiva to the very end without question, with total belief that they would join him in Heaven as angels when this was all over. “T-Minus one minute.”

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Shiva and Rudra held hands as they waited for the countdown to pass, remaining silent, sharing in their moment of glory by simply staring knowingly into each others’ eyes, basking in this culmination of all that they had worked so hard to achieve, what they had dreamed of ever since they were children, and what was now, finally, about to happen. “Three…two…one…ignition.” The ascent into Heaven had begun.

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14 Liftoff

A hydraulic mechanism in the roof activated, and the large concrete panel directly overhead slid back, revealing the clear blue skies far above. The World Devastator’s main thrusters fired, and over 54,500,000 pound-force of raging solid rocket-fuel sent a huge, whirling pillar of blasting fire and smoke coursing around the hangar, turning it into an infernal blast pit exceeding two-thousand degrees Celsius. Slowly at first, the huge superweapon began to lift out of its moorings, uncoupled by the technicians on board, blasting upward by the awesome power of the rocket engines that were easily ten times as powerful as anything NASA had ever used to send the space shuttle into orbit. In only a few seconds, the weapon emerged through the concrete panel, into the light of day, the blast plume still driving downwards with such intense force that it was vaporising the metal alloys down below in the sunken levels of the hangar. Gradually, the weapon’s speed managed to increase, as acceleration forces took over, building more rapidly as the thing climbed higher into the sky over the Mojave Desert. As the minutes passed, the weapon reached thirty thousand feet, then sixty thousand, ninety thousand, one-hundred-twenty thousand… until the colour of the atmosphere outside turned from pale blue to dark blue, and then black, the stars beyond beginning to twinkle with distant yet stunning clarity. On the command deck, Shiva watched on the viewing monitor as the image of the planet Earth swirled into view, the clouds disappearing beneath them, the familiar spherical horizon showing itself, engulfing the comparatively tiny ship. It was an image he had seen countless times in photographs, movies and holographic pictures, but this was the first time he’d ever seen the Earth from orbit for real. It was a moving experience, a humbling moment, made even more powerful by the knowledge of what was to come. “We have left Earth’s atmosphere,” said a woman technician named Dallala. “I am now establishing a geosynchronous orbit around the planet, as per your instructions, sir.” Shiva nodded, still fairly awestruck by the reality of the events unfolding around him. “Very good,” he managed. “It’s beautiful,” Rudra observed, staring at the image of the Earth. “It seems so peaceful from up here.” It was true. “It certainly does,” Shiva agreed. “Take a good look though, Rudra, because this… is the End of Days. Soon will begin the prophesised Armageddon that will hail the final death of this world, and the birth of our new one.” He turned to Dallala, taking a deep breath, deciding to waste no time. “Bring the singularity generator online,” he said. Dallala nodded, and started pressing buttons. Once the process had started, there was no going back. “It has begun,” she said, then gulped back fear, as if her words had just sealed the very fate of mankind.

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***

Adam held the Magnum close to his chest like a lifeline, as they carefully traversed the white, metallic corridors of the World Devastator. He had the safety catch off, with his finger dancing over the trigger, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. After the brief, brutal yet ultimately inconclusive fight in Shiva’s office, he knew the Syndicate bosses would be expecting some kind of infiltration on his behalf. It would only be natural of them to expect so. It was one of the things Adam Hunter did best, after all. Like the rest of Firestorm, he didn’t back down when the world needed saving, and he had a unique gift of getting into places he wasn’t welcome. They had figured out that much when he’d found Third Base on the Syndicate’s island hideout twelve years earlier. His senses were on high alert, expecting a surprise attack from any adjoining corridor, from behind any bulkhead, at any given second. He blinked sweat out of his eyes, concentrating hard as they progressed through the ship in an uneasy silence. From the low frequency humming that resonated throughout the ship, Adam could tell they were no longer in the Mojave Desert. For a while they had experienced a significant drop in temperature, the internal atmospheric regulators now permanently active; and, though barely noticeable due to active artificial gravity and inertial dampening systems, he could also tell without a doubt they were no longer within the Earth’s atmosphere. “Why does it feel so weird in here?” Blaze asked, speaking in a whisper, shivering. “We’re in space,” Adam told her, his gaze not faltering from its ceaseless sweep of the corridor ahead. They continued on in silence, almost hypnotised by the humming of the engines. As they walked, Adam wondered how he was going to explain all this to Axel should they all manage to get out of this alive. Axel was kind of the innocent victim in this whole scenario… he deserved to know the truth about his dual-layered personality as it were; he had a right to know, but Adam had kept it a secret from him for fourteen years. It wasn’t something he was proud of right at this particular moment, now that it had blown up in his face. No, Adam was feeling guilty, ashamed, and remorseful, wishing that he could turn back the clock and tell Axel the truth from the very beginning. To be perfectly honest, the reason he’d kept it a secret was initially due to the recommendation of Chief O’Hara and the hospital shrinks, who had assured him that after the gunshot wounds, Axel’s mind had suffered a certain level of trauma that meant this kind of thing could never happen again. Adam had believed them at the time, though of course, now he knew they were simply covering the Syndicate’s tracks, all of them corrupt pawns in Mr. X’s game. As time went on, and the memory of 2013 became more distant and safe, Adam had decided that Hell, what Axel didn’t know couldn’t hurt him – there wasn’t any point in telling him about it at all. Of course, now it was a different story. He should have seen it coming, he should have known that the Syndicate would try to bring Enigma back out of Axel, but as far as he could tell, no-one in the Syndicate’s higher echelons even knew that Axel Stone was Enigma until very recently. It was as if somewhere along the line fourteen years ago there was a gross breakdown of communication among the Syndicate’s ranks, the first major hole that was apparent in their early operations. It

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was interesting, for it showed that even in their heyday, they were not infallible. Mistakes were made. Now, judging by the way Shiva had toyed with Adam and Blaze over Enigma’s identity, Adam was sure that the man had only recently discovered the truth, and was exacting some kind of emotional revenge by bringing Enigma back. How he’d managed to find out the truth was anyone’s guess, but he’d done it and now he’d fucked them over royally. Unless they could figure out a way of getting Axel back without killing him, Blaze’s husband and the father of her young son was as good as dead. Adam hoped it wouldn’t come to that – there would be a way. On top of all this, they also had the small problem of Shiva trying the send the whole planet through a black hole. Adam Hunter was not having a good day. “Stop,” Blaze whispered. “Listen.” Adam stopped dead in his tracks, listening intently. From around the next corner, they could hear footsteps approaching. “Somebody’s coming,” Blaze said. Adam trained the Magnum in the direction of the sound. Enigma marched into view then, flanked by two muscular henchmen. “Well, well, well,” Enigma said. “Look who’s come back for round two.” Adam hesitated. He didn’t really want to shoot Axel, but wasn’t sure if he had much choice. Enigma signalled to the goons by his side, and they closed in, preparing to attack. Blaze rushed forward, feeling confident despite her injuries. She ducked a punch from the nearest goon, dropping to the floor and sticking out her leg, delivering a roundhouse kick. The move swept the thug off his feet and sent him crashing to the deck. Blaze cried out in pain, the wound on her thigh sending stabbingly painful sensations thundering across her body. Red faced, she fell on her butt, unable to do much but hiss in agony. The second thug moved in on Adam. Adam fired the Magnum, the blast hitting the goon square in the forehead, blowing the top of his skull open in a gruesome spray of blood and gore. Wasting no time, he swung the gun toward the first goon, who was getting to his feet. He fired, this time catching his target in the jaw. There was a red spray, a liquid gurgle, and the man flew over backwards and slid across the deck, slumping against a bulkhead. Adam swung the Magnum toward Enigma. Enigma laughed. “You’re going to do what, kill me? And risk losing your precious Axel?” Adam blinked, wavering with the pistol. “Don’t shoot him!” Blaze screamed at him. “For God’s sake, Adam! Put the gun down.” Enigma smiled at her, then glanced at Adam, taking a step closer to him. “You should listen to your lady friend,” he said. “If this ‘Axel’ character is so important to you, you can’t afford to shoot me, especially with a weapon of that calibre.” Adam clenched his jaw, sucking air sharply through his nostrils. “I shot you before, remember? Back in that abandoned factory. We got Axel back that way. Maybe it’ll work again…” Enigma raised an eyebrow. “Yes, that was our first meeting, was it not? I have to admit, I find this whole split personality thing most fascinating. Sometimes, if I concentrate hard enough, I can hear Axel’s voice in my head, screaming in pain.” He took another step closer. “Go ahead, Adam. Shoot me. Blow my head off like you did my men. Put Axel out of his misery.”

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Adam swallowed, blinking feverishly, then slid the gun’s safety catch on and allowed it to slide from his fingers and clatter onto the ground harmlessly by his feet. He hoped to God he was making the right choice here. Enigma stepped forward again, and he was less than an arm’s length from where Adam was standing now, close enough for Adam to smell his sweaty, unwashed odour. He grinned, and said softly, “Adam, my boy, you are more foolish than I thought…”

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15 Doppelganger

Enigma cackled, and threw his fist hard into Adam’s gut. Adam doubled over in pain, and then he brought up his knee, cracking it into the ex-cop’s exposed jaw. There was a snapping sound, and Adam stumbled back, wiping fresh blood from his mouth. “Axel, please stop this!” Blaze screamed, unable to do much but rock back and forth through the pain scorching in her leg, sitting on the cold ground as she was. Enigma snorted. “Stop calling me that, you stupid goddamned whore,” he boomed. “I am Enigma, the scourge of the Syndicate!” “So I’ve heard,” Blaze said. “But Enigma, you’re only a shadow, a doppelganger, an evil twin of the good man buried inside you!” Enigma took a deep breath, shaking his head. “I’m talking to you, Axel,” Blaze continued. “I know you’re still in there somewhere, and I know you can hear me. Please Axel, I love you. Don’t let this monster spoil everything for us…” she was cut off as Enigma slapped her round the face. “Shut the fuck up!” he hissed. By now, Adam had recovered, and was getting to his feet. He listened to Enigma’s tone of voice as he stood; he could tell the man was growing increasingly disturbed by the way Blaze was talking straight through him, trying to get through to Axel… Maybe they could use this to the advantage. “Axel,” he said, catching Enigma’s gaze. “You have to fight it! You’re one of the strongest men I know. I know you can fight this. I know you can.” Enigma was fuming. “I’ve had enough of this!” he hissed. “It is time for you to die now.” He raised his arms, spontaneously bursting into flame. “Holy shit,” Blaze exclaimed. Adam braced himself, trying to position himself between Enigma and Blaze. “It’s called pyrokinetics,” he told her. “It’s an advanced form of ninjitsu magic. I heard Joe Musashi speak about it once.” “How did Axel learn how to do it?” she asked, bracing herself. Enigma laughed, and jumped into the air, his entire body engulfed in flame for a moment. He spun his body towards Adam, knocking him down, causing first-degree burns on his legs and arms. Adam screamed, a blood-curdling sound that made Blaze wince empathically. Somehow, through the pain, Adam managed to focus his energy and leapt to his feet, driving into a series of punches and kicks that took the flameengulfed Enigma by surprise. Enigma stumbled back, the flames disappearing as his concentration was lost. He smiled, catching his breath. “Impressive, Adam. You have a high threshold for pain.” “Years of field work,” Adam puffed, his heart and mind racing. His burns were stinging like hell, but he had to ignore the pain, try to blot it out as if it didn’t exist, as much as possible, otherwise he was going to lose it. And he had to hold it together here – too much was at stake right now. With Blaze injured, the success of

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the mission lay squarely on his shoulders. He spat blood, and breathed, “Axel, come on. I know you can do this. You have to fight!” Enigma backhanded him. Adam fell to the ground, and then felt the full force of Enigma’s boot stamping down on his gut. It knocked the wind out of him, and then he felt violent, repeated kicking at the sides of his head, knocking his thoughts into oblivion. He started to black out, seeing stars fading into darkness. “Axel, please!” Blaze was crying now, emotionally exhausted by the unfolding scene. It was heart breaking, seeing these two best friends beat the living fuck out of each other like this. Enigma grunted, then stepped away from Adam, who was now slumped and totally unconscious. He turned his attention to Blaze, licking his lips. “We have a five-year-old son!” she cried, as Enigma reached down and grabbed her by the neck. He yanked her up, held her squirming body high up in the air by one hand, and stared intently at her. “Max!” Blaze choked, her face turning red. “Don’t you remember your son Max?” Enigma pulled his free arm back, curling the fingers into a fist, squeezing it until his bare knuckles turned white. Gritting his teeth he threw the fist forward – Blaze squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m pregnant!” she screamed. Enigma froze, stopping his fist mere inches from her belly. He blinked, and hesitated. “What? You’re… what?” he muttered. Blaze gasped, struggling to breathe under his vice-like grip. “Axel, I’m pregnant again,” she reiterated. “We’re going to have a second baby!” Enigma was trembling now, and he frowned, gingerly lowered Blaze to the ground, and relinquished his grip on her throat. He staggered a few steps back, sweating, and then kept slapping himself in the head, muttering to himself. Blaze groaned, going slightly dizzy. She hadn’t eaten in almost three days. She felt like total shit. She needed paramedics and a hospital bed, and soon. She hadn’t lied when she said she was pregnant either, but that could soon change if she lost too much blood right now. If she suffered a miscarriage tonight, she was going to flip her lid. She and Axel had been trying for another baby for over a year. Now, as she lay recovering, she saw Enigma in her peripheral vision, dropping to his knees, having some kind of seizure. “What… what the fuck is wrong with you?” she managed, suddenly feeling very frightened and alone. Enigma was screaming now, and foaming at the mouth. He clawed at one of the dead henchmen on the floor, as if the corpse could help him somehow, croaking and spluttering, then curled up into a foetal position, his bones beginning to crack, his skin splitting and peeling. “Oh, my God…” Blaze whispered, her eyes wide open, unable to believe what she was seeing. She rolled across the floor towards Adam, and reached out an arm to shake him, desperately trying to rouse him. “Adam!” she hissed. “Wake up!” Adam groaned. The sound of Enigma’s bizarre spastic episode brought him round, and he turned to look, his face immediately screwing up in horror. “What’s going on here?” he demanded. Enigma’s body was now arched over backwards, and he roared in agony, a weird contusion beginning to grow and morph out of his back. “I don’t know,” Blaze said. “I told him I was pregnant and he just started having this seizure.” “You’re pregnant?”

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“Yeah.” “How long?” “I only found out a few days ago. I was waiting for the right moment to tell him…” The contusion on Enigma’s back had doubled in size in only a few seconds, and was getting larger. After a moment, there was what looked like a human arm forming on it. “Oh, Jesus,” Blaze said, reaching for Adam’s hand and squeezing it hard. “What the hell is this? What have they done to him?” Adam swallowed, and got to his feet, watching the freak show unfold before his eyes. “I… I think I know what this is,” he said. The contusion was now taking shape, beginning to look like a Siamese twin… “Binary fission through DNA replication,” Adam said, nodding to himself. “What? What is that?!” Blaze asked frantically. Adam took a deep breath. “It’s kind of like cellular mitosis, a form of asexual reproduction and cell division. Some multicellular animals, such as echinoderms and flatworms, can regenerate into two whole organisms after having been cut in half. Each have the potential to grow to the size of the original creature.” “Erm, newsflash…” Blaze frowned. “Axel is not a flatworm.” Adam shook his head. “I’m guessing this must be some kind of Syndicate experiment we haven’t heard about. It seems to be separating Axel and Enigma into two people, two bodies. You must have set the process off inadvertantly.” Sure enough, by the time Enigma had stopped screaming, there were two of him. Enigma was curled up where he was, shivering, his clothing ripped. Beside him, Axel Stone lay naked, covered in a film of steaming goo. “That’s impossible,” Blaze said. “I can’t believe this.” Adam sighed. “After all you’ve seen in your years fighting the Syndicate, is this so unbelievable?” He went to one of the dead henchmen, stripped off his clothes, and helped the ‘new’ Axel dress himself. For a moment Blaze just stared at him, horrified, but then she blinked, realising Adam was right. After fighting an army of Blaze clones, developing genetic and psychokinetic powers, fighting X Robot supersoldiers and Y Robot War Machines, five-hundredthousand-year-old vampire Kings… this was seeming less and less ridiculous and the more she thought about it, actually quite plausible. “You’re right,” she said. “Oh, God, Axel are you okay?” She got to her feet, her emotions overpowering the crushing pain in her leg, to the extent that she could barely feel it. What was important right now was Axel, and if he was going to pull through such a strange bodily division. Axel Stone coughed, folding his arms over the shirt that Adam hastily wrapped around him. “Blaze?” he asked, squinting his eyes. “Is that you? My eyes hurt…” “That’s because you’ve never used them before,” Adam told him matter-offactly. “Easy, guy, easy…” “Yes, it’s me!” Blaze smiled, overcome with joy. “It’s me, baby!” Axel smiled, and murmured like a contented infant. “So, you’re finally pregnant again, huh?” Blaze blinked through tears, nodding. “Yes.” “That’s fantastic,” Axel said with a half-laugh. “Is it going to be a boy or a girl…?”

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*** Enigma blinked his eyes open. He realised he had allowed himself to slip into unconsciousness there – though he wasn’t sure exactly how it had happened. He frowned, searching his memory, but oddly, he couldn’t remember much except a huge feeling of painful elation, almost like an orgasm – except it had been a peak of pain as opposed to pleasure. Then, he must have blanked out. Muttering to himself, he got to his feet, and when he turned round he almost yelped in shock and surprise. Axel Stone stood there, arms folded, looking severely pissed off. Adam Hunter and Blaze Fielding were standing right behind him, with Adam holding the Magnum again, its sight trained clearly in Enigma’s direction. “How…?” Enigma started, but went silent as Axel charged forward and unloaded a huge flaming uppercut that smashed into his jaw and sent him flying back against the corridor wall. “Grand Upper!” Axel roared, and sent a flaming Dragon Wing over Enigma’s chest, setting his clothes on fire. Enigma screamed, rolling and thrashing, attempting to douse the flames. “Looks like I’ve ‘inherited’ your ninja-magic ability, you piece of shit,” Axel said to him. “Bad news for you…” He charged at Enigma, rage burning inside him, determined to destroy the unnatural doppelganger once and for all.

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16 Generator Core

All Enigma could do was try to block, protecting his face, as Axel unleashed a powerful barrage of punches and kicks in his direction. Axel’s assault was full-on, filled with rage and frustration with Enigma, which he channelled into a blinding display of fighting prowess unlike anything seen before. Throughout the entire time his body had been ‘possessed’ by Enigma, Axel had actually been aware, and perceiving the actions Enigma was taking, unable to resist. Like a helpless observer, Axel had been forced to watch as Enigma had stripped Blaze of her clothes and thrown her to the scum in the heroin plant, then fought Adam almost to the death. It had been a most terrifying and disturbing ordeal, how he imagined it was like to be possessed by an evil spirit or a demon, and now that they had ‘separated’ into two bodies, Axel was once again in control of himself, and he had a serious score to settle with this freak of nature, this bizarre evil twin. He didn’t know exactly how this bodily division had occurred, but it was certainly welcome if it meant he was in charge of his own actions again. He figured the separation was probably down to something in that injection he’d been given by Rudra – who could say what kind of drugs or chemicals were in that cocktail? He swore silently to himself that he’d make sure he drilled Rudra about it when he was done with Enigma here. He would get to the bottom of the issue, one way or another. Enigma tried to swing a punch, but the attack was lazy, born out of desperation, and went wide. Axel effortlessly dodged the move, retaliating with a quick flurry of jabs aimed at the evil twin’s face. Enigma stumbled back, growing tired. He gritted his teeth, fuming, sweat and blood pouring across his face. “I pity you, Enigma…” Axel said to him. Enigma screwed his face up in disgust, like he had a sudden bad taste in his mouth. He spat at the ground in Axel’s direction. “Save your pity for the weak!” “Now that we’re separate people,” Axel continued, “you’ve ended up with no soul of your own…” Enigma made a growling sound with his throat, his anger growing exponentially. “You are mine!” he hissed. “He’s blowing up like a gauge!” Adam observed. “Be careful, Ax!” Enigma snorted, and went into a heavy uppercut, one last ditch attempt to take down Axel. Axel, however, was simply too fast. He dodged to the side, leapt into the air and executed a powerful vertical kick directly at Enigma’s head. Enigma crumpled, losing consciousness. “Yeeewwaaaaaaah…” he cried. It was over. Enigma was down. Axel breathed a sigh of relief, still somewhat in shock from the whole ordeal of the past few days, and this fight…this mirror match – but glad it was over. It had been a very unusual situation, engaging an enemy that looked identical to himself… For a moment the thought crossed his mind that he had just been through a similar experience to what Blaze had, when they had fought the homo superior clones nine

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years ago. Then again, Blaze hadn’t been ‘born’ again into a new body and been forced to fight her old one which remained under the control of an alternate personality. That experience was uniquely his, and something that he could tell was going to disturb him psychologically for some years to come. “Thank God,” Blaze whispered to no-one in particular. “Adam,” Axel called back to him, without taking his eyes off the downed Enigma, reaching back with his left hand. “Pass me the gun. Now.” Adam handed the Magnum to Axel without question, knowing exactly what was coming next. Axel took it, gripping the steel in his left hand. The weapon was heavy, and he noted how warm and sweaty it was in his grip. Shifting it to his right hand, he pointed it at the downed Enigma, aiming at his head, shaking slightly. “You’re going to kill him?” Blaze asked. “He’s out cold.” Axel nodded. “I’ve seen into his mind. I know how he ticks. He’s beyond redemption. Believe me, this is for the best. Usually, I wouldn’t shoot a man when he’s down, but in this case – “ He pulled the trigger without hesitation. The sound of the blast reverberated around the corridor. Blood sprayed against Axel’s face. “ – I’m going to make an exception.” They stood in silence for a moment, each of them finding it difficult to come to terms with what had just happened. “You just killed your old body,” Adam said finally. “The original one.” Axel said nothing, giving Adam a steely glance that said, I don’t want to talk about this now, but when I do, you’re in big trouble… Blaze wanted to hug Axel, to be close to her husband again, but she could see that he was too upset, experiencing an unimaginable emotional turmoil that came across in the painful scowl he gave Adam. She decided it would probably be best to give him some space for now. “What do we do now?” she asked, clearing her throat. Axel took a deep breath, scanning the corridor, trying to collect his thoughts and memories, getting his priorities straight. “We have to get to the engineering level,” he said. “The World Devastator must not be allowed to complete its infernal operation.” “We’re already in orbit around the planet,” Adam said. Axel nodded. “I still retain the memories of Enigma’s conversations and experiences prior to our separation. If Shiva’s ‘mission’ is going ahead as they planned, then we’re already too late to stop the activation of the black hole generator. Now we have but one chance, and one chance only, to save the world.” “And what’s that?” Blaze asked. “Sabotage,” Axel said. “We have to sabotage the weapon, and blow up this ship before it’s too late.” Adam nodded. “That’s music to my ears. Which way is the engineering deck?” Axel beckoned them to follow. “This way. Come on!”

***

Axel led the way up a maintenance shaft toward the engineering level, bypassing the ship’s elevators entirely in the hope that they would remain undetected.

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That did nothing for the ship’s onboard security cameras, but there were none visible as far as he could tell, and no alarms had been raised, so he was still optimistic at this point. It took a couple of minutes to reach the engineering deck, and when they stepped through the large, metallic automatic doors into the chamber, Blaze gasped. “What is that?” she asked, staring up in awe. “It’s the black hole generator core,” Axel told her. “The heart of the ship.” In the middle of the chamber, a large tubular device stretched from floor to ceiling, covered with thousands of blinking LEDs and large, pulsating neon lights changing from green to blue, and back again. It looked like a piece of alien technology, something straight out of a science-fiction movie. Jutting from the sides of the main tube were a series of smaller tubes that ran along the walls of the room, shaped like a vast octagon, connecting the core to various quantum computers that were spaced at regular intervals across the deck. At the far side of the chamber, a holographic image of the planet Earth was on display, a live representation of real orbital data being collected by the ship’s sensors. Adam wasted no time, moving to one of the quantum computers and hitting buttons. “Good, it’s an operating system I can work with,” he said, his face glowing green from the eerie lighting of the computer’s display unit. “Is there some kind of self-destruct sequence you can activate?” Blaze asked, growing anxious. Adam shook his head. He punched another couple of buttons. “No, not here. This ship doesn’t even have one… It was designed for one purpose – generating a black hole. The Syndicate hasn’t factored any other eventuality into the equation. The generator core has already been activated, which makes our job here a lot more difficult.” He cursed and thumped his fists down on the console in frustration. “Damn! If only Murphy or Zan were here. They’d make short work of this.” “We need to sabotage the core,” Axel said. “If we reverse the degeneracy pressure, we can cause the core to overload before the black hole has a chance to fully form. We have to force the antimatter particles inside the core to take higher-energy quantum states by lowering the compression force. The ship will blow up and we’ll probably die, but it should work.” Blaze frowned. “What made you the astrophysics expert all of a sudden?” “Trust me,” he said, looking deadly serious. “Enigma knew more than he was supposed to.” Adam shrugged. “I’ll try.” He punched more buttons, inputting a state-of-theart Firestorm virus code he’d memorised from when they’d taken down Mr. X’s seismic device two years ago. He programmed a series of custom commands, then the computer digested the code, and spat out a series of numbers indicating it was experiencing a serious error. “I think that did it,” Adam said. “We won’t know for sure until the core powers up to one-hundred-percent of its capacity, but the virus is intelligent and adaptive, so it should work, in theory. Dr. Zan designed it for MI7. I told it to reverse the pressure, like you said.” Axel nodded in satisfaction. “Good work, but I think we should get out of her before it’s too…” He turned back towards the automatic entry doors, and there was Rudra, holding some kind of advanced energy weapon in both hands, pointing the nozzle towards them.

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“…late!” Axel fired the Magnum in Rudra’s general direction, and they scattered. The bullet whined harmlessly past Rudra’s head, and she pulled the trigger on her weapon, sending several bolts of green energy zapping towards Axel. He ducked, barely avoiding the shots as they blasted into a bulkhead above him, boiling the metal, sending globs of white-hot molten slag flying over his shoulders. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “How do you like my new toy?” Rudra called out to him. “It’s called a phased polaron cannon. It works by emitting a beam of polaron particles, which cause damage by exciting the atoms in the target and thus breaking the bonds between them. I can assure you, it is a most slow, excruciating method of killing, and one I am going to take great pleasure in using on the three of you!” She fired the weapon again, trying to hit Blaze this time. Axel rolled and popped up from where he’d taken cover, running across a catwalk, trying to draw Rudra’s fire. As he did so, he let off a few more rounds with the Magnum. The shots went wild. Rudra laughed. “I see you’re just full of energy now, Axel,” she said. “How does it feel to be living in a new body? I’m sure you could compare notes with Mr. X, if the old man was still alive.” “What did you do to me?” he demanded. He fired off another round, then ducked behind a bulkhead to reload. Meanwhile, Adam was trying to sneak up on Rudra from one side. She saw him coming, however, and unloaded a blast of polaron energy around him, forcing him to withdraw. He ran to take cover by the black hole generator core, where Blaze was standing, probably the one spot in the chamber that Rudra would not dare fire her weapon for fear of damaging the precious equipment. “Ah yes, the injection,” Rudra smiled. “You can thank Onihime and Yasha for that. A little gene therapy, based on some research they’ve been developing. Replicons, or replicating DNA molecules, used in conjunction with fission yeast enzymes, to create what is ultimately intended to become a self-replicating army of identical soldiers under our control. Interesting to see that our little experiment worked. It’s such a pity that you had to shoot Enigma…” “I’m going to shoot you next,” Axel barked. He’d finished loading the Magnum and shot another round toward her, the bullet clanging against metal. Rudra hissed in frustrated rage, and blasted off more polaron energy fire, determined to kill the meddlesome vigilantes once and for all. Her shots were causing heavy damage to the surroundings, blasting holes in the walls and ripped bulkheads into pieces, leaving scorching, steaming wreckage in their place. From behind the generator core, Blaze was breathing heavily. “Are you okay?” Adam asked her. She swallowed, and had a smile on her face, a mischievous and impish grin that told Adam she was about to take some reckless action. “It’s back,” she grinned. “What?” “My aura. I can feel the aura!” She stepped out into the open then, and walked a few steps in the direction where Rudra was taking cover. Rudra jumped up, firing towards Blaze, intent on the woman’s utter destruction. Blaze, however, simply gestured calmly with her left hand, and the bolts of energy that had zapped across the room seemed to dematerialise before they did any damage.

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“Shit…” Rudra said, her eyes widening. Maybe they should have given Blaze a higher dosage of the genetic inhibitor… Blaze raised her right hand, continuing to walk towards Rudra, and the small, black-haired Japanese woman was hoisted into mid air by an unseen force. “Will you never learn?” Blaze said, smiling. In her left hand, forks of blue energy began to dance, threatening to form her trademark blue fireball. “Axel, shoot this bitch down. I won’t waste any more of my power on nothings like her…” Axel gave Blaze a slight nod, then lifted the Magnum toward Rudra, suspended in mid air as she was. “Noooo!” Rudra screamed. Blam! Blaze lowered her right arm, relinquishing the telekinetic forces that held Rudra in the air, and the woman slumped to the ground, dead, her energy weapon clunking heavily to the deck beside her. Adam came out from his hiding place to join Axel and Blaze, looking slightly overwhelmed. “It’s never a dull moment with you guys, is it?” he said. “Blaze, you couldn’t have gotten your powers back at a more convenient time!” Blaze smiled. “It feels nice to have my edge back…” “Shiva is not going to be pleased,” Axel said seriously, looking over at Rudra’s dead body. “We just killed his sister.” Blaze nodded, her expression grim. “All is fair in love and war.”

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17 Earthbound

On the command deck, a light started blinking repeatedly on Dallala’s monitor. “Sir, something’s wrong with the generator core,” she said, a look of concerned dread coming over her face. Tears began to swell in her eyes as she began to receive damage readouts from engineering that indicated only one thing: the core was fucked, and the plan wasn’t going to work. “We have a big problem here…” “What?” Shiva hissed. “Don’t tell me that Rudra has failed to take care of Firestorm as well? Enigma was an experiment, a curiosity… but my own sister?” “I’m not detecting Rudra’s life signs anywhere on the ship,” Dallala told him reservedly. She knew it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “Weapons have been fired on the engineering deck…” Shiva blinked, a sudden sense of guilt and loss washing over him. …No…! …Rudra…my sister… Kagami Shiva… dead! …Killed by Firestorm… …I should never have sent her down there alone!... …Curse them!... “The generator core is reaching critical mass, sir. The compression levels are too low for the black hole to form correctly. At this rate, the singularity will be far too small for what we need to achieve, and there’s a risk it will collapse in on itself altogether. It isn’t working!” Shiva jumped to his feet. “Damn them!” he roared. “Damn them to Hell! They are going to pay for this! Where are they?” Dallala swallowed hard. “They are making their way to the escape pods on deck four. Sir, shouldn’t we begin the evacuation procedures? The ship is not likely going to withstand the altered pressures…” “Man your positions!” Shiva barked, interrupting her. “The mission will go ahead as before! Nothing can stop us!” “But, sir – “ “Do as I say! Or I’ll kill you myself!” Shiva stepped into the elevator. He would confront these meddling Firestorm fools for the last time – nothing would stop him from becoming the new God. They would die by his hands. He would be victorious.

Axel, Blaze and Adam ran down mostly empty corridors, making their way to the escape pods on level four. The few crew members they did encounter didn’t put up much of a fight, and were easily subdued with a couple of punches and kicks. These goons seemed like a slightly different breed of Syndicate punk to the others they had encountered – less brawn and more brains – but that didn’t stop them trying. Their loyalty to Shiva was beyond doubt. “Which way now?” Adam breathed as they reached a fork in the corridor.

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“Turn right,” Axel instructed. “The escape pods will be two hundred yards ahead.” In the distance, they heard a computer voice announce, “Critical mass in three minutes…” There wasn’t much time. If they wanted to make it out of here alive, they had to get an escape pod going within the next minute or two, or else face fiery death. “Shit!” Blaze said, stopping in her tracks. Standing at the far end of the corridor, Leon Shiva was waiting patiently for them, his arms folded, looking strangely calm despite the looming threat of the World Devastator’s imminent destruction. They watched then as he began to approach with large strides towards them, his face heavy with anger and malice. “You have interfered with my affairs for the last time!” he roared, then charged forward at incredible speed, sending a fist thundering into Axel’s gut. Axel flew back, and then he launched a red fireball toward Adam. The attack caught him squarely on the shoulder, sending him down. In less than a second, Shiva was on top of Blaze, punching her face, then grabbing her and hurling her across the corridor into a heap on the other side. “You killed my sister!” he screamed, his nostrils flaring. “Now you will all die!” He dashed across the floor towards Adam, bent to his knees, and flipped his body up to execute a vertical back-kick, cracking Adam across the jaw. “Final Crash!” Axel came up behind him, and grabbed hold of the man’s arms as soon as he was back on two feet. He sent his right knee crashing into Shiva’s gut twice, then delivered a violent head-butt, before flipping his entire body round and slamming him onto the deck, kicking up dust. “AAAAAaaagh!” Shiva rolled onto his side as soon as he was down, slipped into a crouch, then ploughed his body forward using his considerable leg muscles, extending his right leg, catching Axel harshly in his side, bruising his ribs. Blaze, who had recovered from Shiva’s throw and was now on her feet, took one step toward Shiva, summoning a blue fireball with one hand. “Kikousho!” she cried, throwing the fireball forward. It blasted into Shiva’s chest, burning a hole in his shirt and singeing his flesh. He screamed, and fell back, landing on Adam’s outstretched fist, which knocked him into a dazed spin. In the background, the computer announced calmly, “Critical mass in two minutes…” Shiva had passed out, momentarily stunned. He lay on the floor now, groaning, recovering his strength. “We have to get out of here,” Adam said. He looked around, examining the escape pod hatches. There were five in total, and according to the central computer readout on the wall, they were all active and ready to go. “There’s no time…” Hurriedly, the three of them filed into the nearest escape pod, their ragged, heavy breathing echoing in the confined space of the small, cold chamber. The escape pod was a four-seater shuttle, just ten feet by seven feet internally, capable of re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere, with fuel for independent flight from the World Devastator for up to three-hundred-thousand miles. Flight control was automated, programmed by a small keypad situated by the left-hand seat.

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Axel pressed a control by the door and it slammed shut, locking into place. There was a hiss of steam as the automatic air locking mechanism prepared to uncouple the pod from the rest of the ship. “Strap yourselves in,” Adam said, buckling his own seat belt and pressing buttons on the keypad. “This is going to be a wild ride.” Axel took one last look out of the porthole on the locked door, and noticed that Shiva was gone, no longer laying out in the corridor where they’d left him… Shaking his head, he took his seat by Adam and Blaze, buckling up. In front of them, the metal panels covering a large plexiglass window opened up, and they saw the horizon of the planet far below, glowing blue beneath a sea of stars, the moon sitting darkly to the left of the view. The computer’s voice announced, “Critical mass in forty-five seconds…” “Punch it!” Axel shouted. Adam hit the launch button, and they were thrown back in their seats as the escape pod lurched forward, detaching itself from the main bulk of the ship. Almost instantaneously the escape pod’s engines kicked in, a pair of ion thrusters that powered the thing forward at a rate of one-thousand metres per second, accelerating rapidly, the resulting inertia sending their brains into the backs of their skulls, the gforce almost too much to handle. “Yeeeeeehaaaaaw!” Adam howled. Ahead of them, the looming planet rushed toward them, as they increased their distance from the World Devastator, slowly but agonisingly surely. Tears formed in Blaze’s eyes, but instead of falling down her cheeks, the rumbling, thrashing force of the escape pod’s velocity sent the droplets of water directly back to her earlobes. “Express elevator to Hell…!” Adam howled, enjoying himself way too much. “Going down!” Axel sat with his eyes squeezed shut, clenching his jaw, bracing the force of it, as suddenly the view in the window was engulfed by a vast white flash. That would be the explosion… The sound was barely noticeable over the violent thrashing of the engines and their re-entry into the atmosphere, but the shockwave sent the escape pod wildly spinning, out of control. Alarms began wailing, and everything became a blur of motion, sound, and fire, a violent whirlwind of destruction. Blaze screamed. The Earth in the window looked like it was on fire, but she knew it was only their pod, racing through the atmosphere at a highly dangerous trajectory, gas particles outside hammering the pod with extreme force. She barely heard the computer’s voice saying: “Warning! Peak shock layer temperature exceeding sixteen-thousand Kelvin… Isontropic compression exceeding safe limits… Heat shield failure imminent…” Somehow, through the blur of light and sound, Adam managed to hit a button on the keypad. “Hold on!” he screamed. Over the noise of the violent re-entry, they suddenly heard a low-pitched whining sound, so loud it overpowered their senses. It was the sound of the black hole created by the World Devastator collapsing in on itself. “What… the… fuck?!” Axel screamed. Blaze passed out, the pressure too much to bear. “Retro rockets firing!” Adam shouted. “Retro rockets firing!”

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There was another bright white flash, but this time, it was the sun gleaming in the sky, the pod still hurtling towards the planet at three times the speed of sound. Desperate, Adam clawed at the controls, sending an SOS signal, before he slipped into unconsciousness, slumping in his seat. All Axel could do was stare helplessly out the window, the alarm raging, as the Pacific Ocean rushed up to meet him with deadly force, engulfing the pod in its vast embrace.

Bill Clark made his way through the portal to the bridge deck. Propping himself against the railing, he contemplated the glow of his cigarette as he slowly blew smoke rings into the evening air. In the distance, he could see the fading blue sky and wispy clouds above the fog bank that looked like an eerie blanket of dirty cotton draped over the deep blue ocean. He admired the familiar scene, and sniffed at the moist salt air. Scanning the length of the pier, he watched the row of mercury vapour lamps leading to his ship. Like awakening fireflies, their glow increased as the sun drifted further West over the horizon, leaving yet another glorious stream of red clouds. Below, he could hear the sound of the ocean waters lapping at the hull of his frigate, S.S. Millennia. The ocean seemed unusually calm that evening. Clark was a seasoned mariner, a veteran of forty years. He had come from a long line of mariners and had seen just about every tantrum the ocean had to offer. Family legend had it that he was a descendent of John Paul Jones. True or not, it was a fact that as far back as Clark could remember his ancestors were men of the sea – strong, good men. But as times changed, so did traditions. He would be the last of the long line of tradition in his family. His son would not follow his footsteps. Bill Jr. wanted something different. Instead of being a skipper of a vessel, he opted to study marine biology and enrolled at the University of California at Santa Cruz. All those times Clark observed his son scurrying on the rocks leaping from tide pool to tide pool had given him the false impression that the lure of the sea had once again passed to the next generation. It had, but not in the way he expected. Although disappointed, Clark accepted his son’s decision. Instead of riding the wave’s crests, Bill Jr. would explore the ocean’s secrets and the life forms that evolved in its womb. Reflecting on his son’s decision, Clark saw the wisdom as he looked about the S.S. Millennia; times had changed for sailors like him. Being the captain of an ocean going vessel was not the same as when he embarked on his first voyage. The S.S. Millennia and ships like her took the pleasure out of being a skipper. Clark resented the fact that computers and computerised navigational systems were replacing his talents and knowledge of the sea. At times he felt like a mere passenger. It wouldn’t be too long before ships would be sailing themselves. Certainly, this ship could do so if the computers were programmed to completely take over the helm. It wasn’t that he detested computers. Clearly, they made his work easier. It was only the growing reliance on the computers that worried him. Computers were mere tools. Like any tool, they needed supervision and could not be trusted to act on their own completely. He was glad others thought the same, and knew people like him were still needed to step in when the unexpected occurred. For that he was thankful. Clark finished his cigarette and started his final inspection of the vessel. After he completed his rounds he returned to the bridge. Since the inside was a “no smoking area”, he tapped out another cigarette, lit it and leaned against the outside railing. As he peered over the water, a bright white flash in the sky caught his attention. He stared

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up at it and frowned, wondering what the hell it was. It was far too bright to be a plane or a star – it looked more like a nuclear explosion, far above the clouds. He thought it strange, but attributed it to a hyperactive imagination. For a moment he wondered whether or not he should radio it in. Then, he spotted something else… a flaming cylinder plummeting violently from the sky at incredible speed, what looked like some kind of space shuttle. It splashed into the deep water about fifty miles off shore, without deploying any kind of parachutes, at a force that would have surely killed any astronauts on board instantly. His jaw dropped, and he reached for his binoculars. Sure enough, some kind of craft had hit the water, and was now rolling helplessly in the waves, spitting out thick black smoke. As the soft glow of the full moon supplanted the sun’s fading rays, Clark decided it would be best to report this. Somebody could have been seriously hurt out there.

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18 Recovery

Axel awoke to see a brilliant shaft of light, streaming through the single porthole, shining down on the chemical toilet in the corner of the recompression chamber. He lay on his bunk and looked around the chamber, a horizontal cylinder fifty feet long: bunks, a metal table and chairs in the centre of the cylinder, a toilet behind a small partition with a single roll of wipes. Adam snored in the bunk above him. Across the chamber, Blaze slept, one arm flung over her face. Faintly, from a distance, he heard men shouting. Axel yawned, and swung off the bunk. His body was sore but he was otherwise all right. He walked to the shining porthole and looked out, squinting in the bright Pacific sun. He saw the rear deck of the Arleigh Burke-class destroyer USS Winston S.Churchill II: the white helicopter pad, heavy coiled cables, the tubular metal frame of a hydraulic crane arm. A Navy crew was lifting the escape pod from the water using a second crane arm, with a lot of shouting and swearing and waving of hands; Axel could hear their voices faintly through the thick steel walls of the chamber. He frowned and rubbed his head. His memory of the crash landing was fragmented, but the rescue divers had told him that that was perfectly normal, and his memory would return in time. Apparently, they had all been extremely lucky that the Navy happened to have a ship in such close proximity to the crash-site… without fast hyperbaric oxygen therapy they would all have died from the rapid recompression of re-entry… something about gas embolisms, but Axel was no expert on the subject. He turned back to the chamber, sat down at the table. His knee throbbed, and the skin was swollen around a white bandage. Another bandage was wrapped about his midsection. He had been treated by a Navy physician during their transfer from the escape pod to the recompression chamber – they all had, particularly Blaze, who had tragically but perhaps inevitably, suffered a miscarriage during that chaotic descent from space. They had been taken out of the escape pod in a pressurised diving bell, and from there had been transferred to the large chamber on the deck of the ship. They were going to spend twenty-four hours here. Axel wasn’t sure how long they had been here so far – they had all immediately gone to sleep, and there was no clock in the chamber. The face of his own wristwatch was smashed, although he didn’t remember it happening. On the table in front of him, someone had scratched “U.S.N. SUCKS!!” into the surface. He ran his fingers over the grooves, reflecting on what a shame it was that Blaze had lost her baby. Still, they could always try again… “Keep telling yourself it’s just one of those things,” Axel muttered to himself. “Keep reminding yourself of that.” He got up from the table. We ought to eat, he thought. “I’m going to ask for food,” he said to the others. “I’m not hungry,” Blaze said, unable to meet Axel’s gaze. “I know that, but we should eat anyway.” Axel walked to the porthole. An attentive Navy crewman saw him at once, and pressed the radio intercom. “Do anything for you, Mr. Stone?”

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“Yes,” Axel said. “We need some food.” “Right away, sir.” Axel saw the sympathy on the faces of the Navy crew. These men understood what a shock it must be for the three survivors. If only they knew the full extent of the drama that had taken place. He glanced back at Blaze and Adam. They both looked tired. Blaze stared into space, preoccupied with her own thoughts. But her face was serene; despite the hardships she’d endured, Axel thought she still looked beautiful. “You know, Blaze,” he said, “you look lovely.” Blaze did not seem to hear, but then she turned toward him slowly. “I don’t feel lovely,” she said. Axel nodded, and sighed heavily. They had beaten the Syndicate once again, but it was a bittersweet victory at best. Time would tell how they would all be affected by this.

Two weeks later

Interpol Headquarters Lyon, France April 19th, 2027

Blaze shifted in her seat, the wound on her thigh still giving her grief despite healing fairly well. She listened intently to Jacob Scully’s address, seated with Axel and Adam amongst the audience of 502 other people, who made up the various staff of the International Criminal Police Organisation. Jacob Scully was the GeneralSecretary of Interpol, a New Yorker, although his accent sounded more Southern than anything else. “…the Syndicate has finally been defeated,” he was saying, “and it is thanks to the efforts of our subsidiary branch ‘Firestorm’ that any of us are here today to know about it. I cannot emphasise enough… what a great debt we owe to them. Let me tell you now, the human race came within a hair’s breadth of permanent extinction, and if Firestorm was not able to sabotage the Syndicate’s weapon and destroy it as they did, every living thing on this world would now be dead.” Someone in the audience raised a hand. “Sir, how can we be sure the Syndicate has finally gone forever? They’ve bounced back so many times in the past; it’s almost too good to be true…” “Leon Shiva was operating out of the Syndicate’s heroin production plant in the Mojave Desert,” Scully said, speaking into a stand microphone. “Thanks again to the efforts of Firestorm, we now know that this heroin plant was the primary source of the organisation’s immense wealth, undetected until now. It was destroyed by the military on this Tuesday gone; I received confirmation early Wednesday morning from Supreme Commander Petrov, that a wing of bombers laid waste to the entire site, shutting down the illicit drugs production for good. Now, without Shiva to look to for leadership, or any funding to support their activities, the Syndicate is absolutely crippled. Our agents across the globe have since managed to shut down their last remaining operations, including those on street level, and we have arrested those rogue members who had managed to evade us until now. Every last remnant of Mr. X’s old organisation has been swept away.” He took a deep breath, and smiled.

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“Interpol is now satisfied they are utterly defeated. As a result, I am declaring the Syndicate a closed case, pending some final arrangements…” There was rapturous applause from the audience. “Now, if Firestorm could join me on the stage, I should like to present them with their medals…” Blaze, Axel and Adam got to their feet, making their way past the clapping dignitaries. They ascended a short flight of steps to the raised wooden stage, where Scully shook their hands and placed medals over their necks. “The NWO Medal of Honour,” he said, “awarded for ‘Gallantry and intrepidity, at risk of life above and beyond the call of duty’.” The audience got to their feet, giving them a standing ovation. Blaze smiled for the cameras, happy that from the world’s perspective at least, everything was fine and good. The reign of the Syndicate was over. But somewhere deep inside, she knew this wasn’t the end for them. They would bear the scars of the Syndicate’s terrors forever.

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19

Rose Hills Cemetery Whittier, California April 29th

Whenever Adam Hunter came to visit his brother’s grave, it was always with a feeling of sadness, and regret. Regret, not just because of his own time constraints – he couldn’t make the trip as often as he’d like due to his work commitments to Firestorm and the FBI – but also because of the circumstances surrounding his brother’s death. It had been totally avoidable and unnecessary… and had things played out a little differently back then, his brother would surely still be alive today. If only I could go back in time and change things for the better… he thought to himself, as he placed a hastily-prepared wreath by his brother’s tombstone. The grave was situated in a hilly woodland meadow, filled with black granite and white marble headstones, arranged in neat lines. Of course, he knew such things were impossible. It had been six years, almost to the day, since Eddie had died, six years since that fateful encounter atop the Syndicate’s munitions plant, on an island base in the Pacific Ocean. Firestorm had been tracking Mr. X at the time, who at this point was going by the name Socharis, or the ‘Dragon Lord’… They had traced him to the island through Ash, the head of the Neo Chaos group in New York. After fighting a couple of sentry robots, they had confronted Mr. X in his private penthouse… Adam closed his eyes, tears forming, the painful memory etched onto his mind like a permanent scar. Eddie had been so brave, yet so stupid… Angry over the death of Max Hatchett, Eddie “Skate” Hunter had rushed in, eager to take revenge by killing Mr. X. But he had acted too rashly, too quickly. Mr. X surprised them all then, by pulling out a Tommy gun and unloading the magazine into Skate’s flailing, helpless body… Tears ran down Adam’s cheeks now, and he dabbed at them with the handkerchief he kept in his jacket pocket. Glumly, he stared down at his brother’s tombstone. It read: HERE LIES EDWARD JOHN HUNTER “SKATE” BROTHER, FRIEND and hero BORN 11 MARCH 1998 DIED 4 MAY 2021 AGED 23 HE WAS LOVED

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Such a waste… Sometimes Adam felt like Skate’s death had been his own fault. He shook his head, clearing his mind of those bad thoughts. He would work himself into a depression if he kept going down that road; it had happened before. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, shivering, staring down at the grave. Above him the sky was iron-grey, featureless and flat as a mirror. There was something he wanted to say to his dead brother, and he was prepared to wait until he knew what it was. The world slowly began to lose light and colour. Adam’s feet were going numb, while his hands and face hurt from the cold. He burrowed his hands into his pockets for warmth. Eventually he swallowed, and cleared his throat. “Well, brother,” he said aloud, “I bring you some good news and some bad news. The good news is, the Syndicate has been defeated.” He sighed a half laugh. “I know you’ve heard that before, but Interpol assures us that it’s actually for real this time. They’ve finally been crushed for good. Finally, the bastards responsible for your death, and the deaths of so many others, have been brought to justice…” He sighed. It was getting really cold now, black clouds forming in the sky overhead. It was such unusual weather for an April in California. “Firestorm is being disbanded for good now,” he told the grave, a solemn look on his face. “With the Syndicate gone, it has fulfilled its mission statement. Our work is done. I’m going back to Detroit next month to look after mom. That’s the bad news… She’s fallen ill, Skate. Ovarian cancer, the doctors say. She needs me by her side. I can’t let her down…” He looked at the ground, listened intently, but there was no response from the stone and earth. Not that he actually expected there to be. The wind rustled the uncut grass lightly, and specks of rain fell over his face. “Goodbye, Skate.” Adam turned his back, and walked in the direction he’d come, toward the lights of the town.

***

Stone Residence Beverley Hills, California

That evening Blaze laid an extra place at the table. She put a glass at each place, and a bottle of Jameson Gold in the middle of the table. It was the most expensive Irish whiskey they sold at the liquor store. For dinner she was serving homemade lasagne, followed by a dessert of chocolate cake. It was a speciality of hers, and she had gone to great lengths to make sure everything was perfect, seeing as this was the last meal they were all going to enjoy together – at least for a while. Axel, Adam and Tina were in the sitting room, entertaining five-year-old Max. The young boy was already a budding martial artist, and was enjoying play-sparring with the three of them, pretending he was a hero of Firestorm.

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When dinner was ready, Blaze called them all out to the table. They took their seats, and then waited patiently as she served up the steaming-hot lasagne onto their plates. “This looks delicious, hon,” Axel said, winking at her. “Thanks.” Adam picked up his knife and fork, licking his lips. “Oh, man, it sure does. I didn’t realise how hungry I was.” Blaze smiled. “There’s plenty leftover too, if you’re still hungry when you’re finished.” On the other side of the table, Tina helped Max cut his food. As she did so, she asked, “So, is it official then? Has Firestorm disbanded for good now?” Axel chewed on a piece of his lasagne, swallowed, and nodded. “Yep. As of tomorrow, it’ll no longer exist.” Tina raised her eyebrows. “I have to admit, I’m surprised.” Blaze shrugged, taking her seat. “It’s the end of an era. With the demise of the Syndicate there’s no reason for Firestorm to exist any more. Axel and I have decided to retire from crime fighting, rather than continue working for Interpol. We’re going to concentrate our energies on raising our son… and trying for another baby.” Axel looked at her with a sly smile, and a twinkle in his eyes. “That’s the fun part…” “I was sorry to hear about your loss…” Tina said then, referring to Blaze’s miscarriage. Blaze waved a hand dismissively. She poured herself a glass of whiskey and knocked it back. “It’s okay. These things happen.” “What about you, Axel?” Tina asked around a mouthful of her food. “How are you coping with this whole ‘body separation’ thing?” He nodded. Chew. Swallow. “It’s… interesting, to say the least. Sometimes, I forget all about it. Other times, I find it kinda creepy. I’m never going to forget shooting my old body, that’s for damn sure…” Tina and Adam exchanged glances. “I wish things had been different fourteen years ago,” Tina said. “When you first came out of that coma… If we had only told you about Enigma…” “Don’t worry about it, sis,” Axel shook his head. “I understand that you and Adam were only doing what you thought was best. Besides, I’m the one who should be apologising, for holding you hostage!” “You weren’t yourself,” Adam reminded him. He poured a glass of whiskey for himself, then filled Axel and Tina’s glasses too. He raised his glass. “Might I propose a toast? To old times… We have made some mistakes along the way, that has to be said, but in the end, we’ve come through stronger. And to good friends.” “Old times, good friends,” Blaze smiled, clinking glasses with the others. “So I hear you’re going home, Adam?” Axel said. Adam nodded. “My mom has taken ill. I’ll be off to Detroit on annual leave for a few months, before returning to Washington D.C.” “Still pursuing your career in the FBI?” “Yeah. Even though the Syndicate is gone, there will always be other crimes to solve.” “Well, good luck to you, my friend,” Axel told him. “Don’t forget to stay in touch. And if you see Doctor Zan on your travels, tell him he still owes me fifty bucks.” Adam laughed, and helped himself to more lasagne. Blaze finished her second glass of whiskey and poured a third.

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“When I grow up,” said little Max, “I want to be an FBI fighter. Will you teach me, Adam?” “Sure,” said Adam. “If your mom doesn’t mind.” Blaze smiled. “Of course not.” After dinner, Tina helped Blaze with the washing up, and Axel dried. While they worked, Adam did a trick for Max, counting pennies into Max’s palm: each time Max opened his hand and counted them there was one less coin that he had counted in. And as for the final coin – “Are you squeezing it? Tightly?” – when Max opened his hand, he found it had transformed into a dime. Max’s plaintive cries of “How’d you do that? Momma, how’d he do that?” followed him out into the hall. Blaze handed him his coat. “Thanks for coming,” she said. Her cheeks were flushed from the whiskey. “You’re my good friends,” Adam smiled, giving Axel a manly bear hug. “I’ll miss you.” He gave Blaze and Tina an affectionate kiss on the cheek, then got in the driver’s seat of his car without further ado. Blaze, Axel, Max and Tina waved, as his car pulled off the driveway and disappeared down the street. “Okay family, let’s go inside,” Axel said. “It’s getting late…”

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EPILOGUE

The pain was intense: it was as if every cell in his body, every nerve, was melting and waking and advertising its presence by burning him and hurting him. There was a hand at the back of his head, gripping it by the hair, and another hand beneath his chin. He opened his eyes, expecting to find himself in some kind of hospital. He was naked. There was steam in the air. Information was processed slowly, one datum at a time. His fingers burned. His toes burned. He began to whimper from the pain. “Easy now, Leon. Easy there,” said a voice he knew. “You’ve suffered a massive recompression trauma.” “What?” he said, or tried to say. “What’s happening?” It sounded strained and strange to his ears. He was in some kind of bathtub. The water was hot. He thought the water was hot, although he could not be certain. The water was up to his neck. “I thought I was dead,” he muttered. “You were lucky,” said the voice. “I saw your pod come down into the ice. You must have been under the water for the best part of three minutes before I got you out. It was like seeing a ghost, seeing you there…” he trailed off. “We were both damn lucky that the ice took our weight as I dragged you back to the shore.” Leon Shiva opened his eyes, and when he saw the face of the stranger above him, he recognised it immediately. “It’s you…” he said in disbelief, his mind whirling with emotion. At that moment, he knew that the game was far from over. The battle for the Streets of Rage had only just begun…

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BOOK IX

BEHIND THE WORLD

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PROLOGUE

Vatican City July 29th 2030

It was a bright Sunday morning, and the pilgrims had gathered in their thousands in St Peter’s Square to hear the Pope address them from an upstairs window. Gilbert Zan dallied for a moment among the faithful. He watched their credulous faces crane towards the distant balcony and the light of joy that came into them when the old man spoke a few words in their own language. He almost envied them their simple faith. He shook his head and moved off through the fluttering pigeons. Not even the supposedly universal tongue of Latin had been able to make an impression on Zan, a disconsolate figure as he walked off past the squat Castel Sant’ Angelo and crossed the River Tiber into the via Zanardelli. In a gloomy frame of mind he paused on the cobbled street outside a bustling café, staring through the window with silent envy. The place was filled with people taking a leisurely late breakfast, talking animatedly, and of waiters cheerily calling out their orders to the bar. One or two middle-aged women had brought their pet dogs and fed them morsels of pastry beneath the table. Zan shook his head in sadness and wandered off again down the street. It had been thirteen years since Gilbert Zan had tasted food, thirteen years since he had experienced any kind of human comfort or luxury. The taste of a hot meal, freshly-brewed beer, barrel-aged red wine… the touch and scent of a woman. Such things were alien to him now, since all trace of his former humanity had been swept away long ago, by the tragic sequence of events that had befallen his life. He cast his mind back to his childhood, so long ago now it seemed. Growing up in the Queens District of New York City in the 1970s he had been so care-free, so innocent, so unaware of the tragic fate in store for him later on in life. He had looked up to his father back then with such enthusiasm, such love – and was so eager to follow in his footsteps. How foolish that now seemed! His father, of course, had been a scientist who worked for the US Government, famous for his groundbreaking research into atomic power. Victor Zan had made the very first designs of an experimental, laser-driven inertial confinement fusion device, which was later built in the European Union in 2011. It paved the way for the world’s first true fusion reactor, ultimately solving the world energy crisis and earning him the Nobel peace prize… But it was the 1979 discovery of the Laxine atom that had really made young Zan’s father famous. It had happened by accident one day, during a particle experiment in Washington D.C., and it revolutionised the way in which atomic scientists understood nuclear physics at that time.

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Zan shook his head. How ironic, that he would choose to enter the field of cybernetics research himself, under the impression that it was a much safer, harmless science! Though his father had made such strides toward a greater world peace through the study of nuclear physics, young Gilbert Zan had opted to study robotics, with the idea that his work could never be used for evil purposes or for war. How wrong he had been! Thus in 1989 he began studying for his doctorate in ‘Theoretical Cybernetics Applications’, at the City University of New York, not far from the family home. That same year, he was named at the top of the Princeton Review’s Top 20 “most promising students” list. He had been so sure of himself back then, so eager to make his mark in history that it had blinded him to the truth of where his research would ultimately lead him. It was in 1995, in fact, just after graduating from university and a brief stint in the US Armed Forces, that Zan was offered a job at RoboCy Corporation in California. Like a blind fool he had accepted the job eagerly, looking forward to working under the prolific Dr. Henry Dahm, one of world leaders in the field of cybernetics at the time. He had no idea that RoboCy was in fact a front company, for one of the most vicious and evil crime syndicates the world had ever seen, or that Dr. Dahm was working with the mysterious Mr. X on a world-crushing plan called ‘Operation Shadow Hand’. How could he not have guessed that something wrong was happening, when a year later they were using the bodies of slaughtered South American islanders to perform their research into neural networks? It was a sobering thought, but Zan had not questioned any of their bizarre activities until more than ten years later. He began to suspect something wasn’t quite right, after the Robot X prototype had begun to take the place of Senator George Xetheus at public events. Zan understood the need for protection, but surely it was President Obama who should be more worried about assassination? Not long after that they were being asked to construct hundreds more of the ‘X Robot’ machines, using biomimetic synthesis to fuel them with a controversial drug called ‘Fire’. Nothing was explained by Dahm or his top officials; Zan and the team were just expected to get on with it. When they started working on Project Y a couple of years later, rumours began to spread amongst the junior colleagues that Phase Two would involve military applications! Of course, Zan’s subsequent snooping into Dr. Dahm’s computer files had revealed the awful truth, that Mr. X’s syndicate was behind everything and that they plotted to overthrow the world’s governments, but by then it was too late. Zan was ‘selected’ as the test subject for Phase One of Project Y, and converted into a cyborg against his will. It was at this point his humanity was lost forever. Zan caught himself thinking about this event way too often, but it was a turning point in his existence that could not be ignored. As he crossed a road and wandered down an adjoining street, he pondered how wonderful this city must seem to its human inhabitants, with the softness of its air, the fragrance of the breeze and the simplicity of life exemplified in its food – grilled fish, salads and chilled wine. His own senses were now simply a series of numbers, algorithms and equations, and he had almost forgotten what it was like to truly feel something. After becoming a cyborg, Zan’s life changed from that of a foolish scientist to that of a determined crime fighter. He had contacted Adam Hunter, one of the police officers responsible for Project X’s downfall, and joined that team of vigilantes in their war against the Syndicate. During the struggle, which had lasted many years, Zan’s remaining organic body parts were destroyed when he’d been ‘killed’ by gunfire in 2018. He’d been given a funeral service and everything. After that, his

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cybernetic components were restored by British Intelligence, and his existence was now as an android, one-hundred percent machine, devoid of any heart and soul that he once may have had. He could still feel emotion, at least what could be interpreted as such, but it was still more of a digital number sequence than anything along the lines experienced by humans. In many ways he still yearned for his final death, to be able to rest his weary mind at last and end this perpetual suffering, but as an android he had a theoretical life span of centuries. He would go on living for a long time… Oh, how a man in his position, travelling alone, had time to reflect and observe! Now, since the demise of the Syndicate years earlier at the hands of Firestorm, Zan still worked for MI7, part of the British Intelligence Service in Neo London, one of the most rigorous and secret organisations in the world. His android senses and capabilities were vital to them, as he was able to detect and see things that other spies honed by years of self-discipline would barely register. He hailed a cab, and asked the driver to take him to the port at the southernmost end of the Tiber. According to his investigations, it was where he needed to be if his mission here in Italy was to be successful. Half an hour later Zan found himself beneath a large orange umbrella, pretending to sip coffee and looking over at the ships that lay at anchor in the port. He stayed there for several hours, determined to catch sight of his target. That night, he silently asked himself why the two men in the black Mercedes did not fit in – even here, in a port loud with commerce and people of all nationalities. The car pulled up beside the dock, where the smaller of the two men, who wore a black trenchcoat over some kind of military clothing, climbed out and began to inspect some of the vessels. Zan’s robotic eyes increased their magnification, zooming in on the man’s face. “It can’t be…” he muttered to himself. He recognised the man, but it couldn’t possibly be who he thought it was… He took a series of snapshots, which were automatically beamed to MI7 computers via a satellite link from Zan’s neural net. Eventually the man went up the gangway of one of the vessels and disappeared on board. Zan then found himself looking at the man’s companion, who remained in the open-topped car. Bizarrely, he was the spitting image of Axel Stone, save from slightly higher cheekbones and narrow eyes. His blonde hair was oiled and driven back straight from his forehead without a parting. He was dressed in a dark-coloured suit with a white shirt and a black tie. Zan took more snapshots, hopeful that the analysts back in Neo London would be able to identify these mysterious and suspicious-looking individuals. The bodywork of the Mercedes shone with a deep black gleam and the burgundy leather seats had been buffed to a factory finish, but what held Zan’s eye was something this man gave off – a kind of aura. He exuded arrogance. The attitude of his thrown-back head, the set of his lips and the movement of his wrist as he flicked ash from a cigarette on to the cobbles conveyed contempt for all around him. But there was something else – a sense of burning, zealous concentration. This was a man with a mission of such consuming urgency that he would trample anything before him. Perhaps, Zan thought, that was why he held himself so aloof – because he found that being exposed to the demands of other people might corrupt the purity of his purpose. But how many years, and what bitterness or reverses, must it have taken to create such a creature? His colleague returned to the car, carrying a bag, his face in shadow beneath a hood. Though short in stature, he walked with the speed and agility of an army scout

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or tracker. There was a functional brutality about his movements as he climbed into the driver’s seat and threw the small canvas bag into the back. As he did so, Zan’s target, Leon Shiva, emerged from the boat and stood on the gangway, arms folded, saying something to them. “My, my,” Zan uttered to himself. “You are a difficult man to locate…” He attuned his audio senses, picking up the conversation, again relaying the data back to MI7 headquarters. “That’s not what we agreed,” Shiva was saying. “You haven’t fulfilled your own end of the bargain.” The man in the trenchcoat scoffed. “I didn’t pull you from that escape pod so that I could work for you, Leon. No, I don’t think you understand what I’ve been telling you.” “You’d rather work with Enigma here?” Shiva said, sounding exasperated. “Fuck you, Anthrax. This deal is off!” Tensions were rising. If Zan had any chance of capturing Shiva, he had to act now before things really kicked off. He dashed out from where he was sitting, knocking over chairs and scattering tableware, determined to take them all by surprise – but it was too late. The blonde man, Enigma, had pulled a gun from the car’s glove compartment, a Desert Eagle, and swung it toward Shiva in the blink of an eye, opening fire. Several rounds caught Shiva in the chest, sending him sprawling to his knees in coughing fits of pain. “Fuck!” Shiva moaned, spluttering blood. There were screams in the nearby crowd. Enigma cackled, continuing to fire, emptying the gun’s clip. The last two rounds hit Shiva directly in the face, and his head was blown apart like a rotten watermelon. Blood and gore splattered, and Shiva’s dead body slumped back against the deck. “I’m in charge now!” Enigma roared. “You can take an early retirement, asshole.” The other man, Anthrax, turned around then, and saw Zan gliding towards them across the cobbles. “Heads up!” he shouted. “It’s Dr. Zan!” Zan frowned slightly. How could they possibly recognise him? Unless his initial suspicions about the true identity of this ‘Anthrax’ were correct… Enigma turned, tossing aside the gun, then lifted a rocket launcher from the back seat of the car, aimed it at Zan and pulled the trigger as the android came into range. Zan barely had time to process the information, as the rocket-propelled grenade whooshed toward him and impacted on his chest armour. He saw red, and the incendiary explosion blew apart his robotic body, lighting up the night with a large ball of flame. The world around him span, and his systems went haywire, catastrophic error reports filling his awareness. After a moment he faintly noticed that his head had landed several feet away from the car, face down on the damp, mossy cobbles. “Anomaly…” he slurred. “Fatal exception…” A spark of exposed electronics told him that his neural net was shorting out. If he didn’t get help from systems engineers within the next few minutes, the damage would be irreparable. His head bounced then and rolled, kicked by Anthrax who had stepped out of the car. “You…” Zan garbled. “Why would you…”

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Anthrax didn’t answer. He picked up a small rock from the edge of the road, and started smashing it violently into Zan’s damaged face. Paintwork chipped away, followed by alloys, then the delicate circuitry beneath. Zan’s visual cortex had failed, but he could still sense the impacts on his face, with his machine-equivalent of human pain. One by one his neural systems were failing, and he realised that help would not be able to arrive in time. There would be no restoring him now – this was it, he was going to die, and he had failed his mission. As the darkness enveloped him, he realised that at last, he would be able to rest in peace. And with that last thought, Gilbert Zan died. Anthrax snorted, picked up what was left of the mechanical head, and tossed it into the river without a second glance. He turned, breathing heavily, and saw that Enigma was also dumping Shiva’s dead, bullet-riddled corpse over the edge of the gangway and into the river. “Let them sleep with the fishes,” Enigma spat. Without another word he returned to the car, and Anthrax gunned the engine. Police sirens wailed in the distance, but they would arrive at the scene far too late. Anthrax turned the car round in a single sweep and accelerated hard. A small dog ran out from one of the cafés, barking at a seagull on the dock. It was caught by the front wheel of the car, and flattened. While the animal lay squealing in its death throes, the Mercedes drive off without stopping.

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1

FBI Headquarters Washington D.C. July 31st

Robert Murphy sat in his cluttered office, looking through an incident report with a thousand-mile stare. The report had been delivered to his desk that morning, and he had been over it several times already; but no matter how many times he read it, no matter how much he tried to maintain a professional, objective perspective on things, he couldn’t help but feel an emotional lump in the back of his throat. A melancholy expression, tinged with anger, had gradually replaced his shock at the news of Dr. Zan’s brutal killing. The android had been a good friend; Murphy had known him for more than ten years and worked with him on a couple of his biggest cases, so his death two nights before was painful to accept. Sweat beaded on his forehead, even though the room’s air-conditioning was turned up to its maximum setting. The intercom on his desk chimed. He pressed a control on it. “Yes?” “Agent Murphy,” came a voice, “You have a visitor here… your one o’clock.” Murphy frowned. He took a deep breath, blinking his green eyes, trying to collect his thoughts. “Remind me. Who is it?” he asked bluntly. “Deezee Kujaku, from the British Intelligence Service, MI7 division.” Murphy nodded to himself. “Okay, send him in.” A few moments later, Deezee strode into the room without bothering to knock. He looked exhausted. He closed the door immediately behind him and removed his sunglasses, puffing air out of his cheeks, complaining about how warm it was outside. He had dark skin and a short, neatly groomed beard, with a hench torso that made him look like more of a body builder than a man from British Intelligence. He extended a hand, and Murphy shook it eagerly. “Welcome to the United States of America,” Murphy said, noting the firmness of the handshake. “It’s good to finally meet you in person, Mr. Kujaku.” Deezee nodded. “Call me Deezee. Thanks for seeing me on such short notice by the way, but we didn’t really know what else to do concerning this matter…” He had an American accent. Murphy gestured to a couple of soft leather chairs beside the desk, and Deezee sat down, propping a leg up on the empty chair as he did so. “How was your flight?” Murphy asked. “Uneventful,” Deezee said. “I assume you’ve read the report I faxed ahead?” “Yes,” Murphy said, “it’s right here.” He lifted the file on his desk slightly. “I’ve been through it multiple times, and I just have one question…” “Shoot.”

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“You say that Dr. Zan had been sent to Italy to locate and capture Leon Shiva…” “Correct,” Deezee nodded, leaning forward. “MI7 has been tracking Leon Shiva’s movements for a long time now. It’s not public knowledge, but in 2027, NWO satellites in space detected a second escape pod entering the earth’s atmosphere, following the destruction of the World Devastator weapon. Shiva had survived, and our people have spent three years searching for him ever since. We finally tracked him down to Italy, then sent in Zan to narrow down the search and bring him in. Needless to say, our information was spot on.” “Which brings me to my question: what was Shiva doing there?” Murphy asked, raising an eyebrow. “To be honest, we’re still not sure,” Deezee told him. “He had been travelling all over the world, visiting various sites of religious significance. Jerusalem, Kusinagara, Varanasi, Mecca, Madurai, Hebron, the Vatican…” “Maybe he was searching for some kind of spiritual atonement,” Murphy suggested, though he didn’t believe that himself. “Doubtful,” Deezee said. “More likely he was on some kind of treasure hunt. The fact that Shiva was killed in what appears to be a gang shooting tells me there was a lot more to his travels than meets the eye. We have already linked one of the shooters to the FBI bombings that took place in 2013. Strangely enough, there has been no resurgence of Syndicate activity in the past three years. For all intents and purposes, that organisation is still dead and buried. Whatever Shiva was up to, it was personal, yet still highly suspicious. I need to speak to Adam Hunter, right away. His experience on the World Devastator may shed some light on these events.” Murphy took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, well I have arranged for a conference with some of the other agents who will be working with us on this case. Adam will be there.” Deezee smiled. “I look forward to seeing the old boy again.”

***

“Deezee, we’re on in ten minutes in the Gold Conference Room. Can I get you a coffee before we start?” Deezee stared at Murphy standing in the doorway like he’d just landed from Mars. “Murphy, my urine has turned the colour of cappuccino, and there’s enough caffeine in my bloodstream to fuel the space shuttle. But thanks anyway, I’ll be along in a moment.” “I’ll make sure the projection system is set up,” Murphy replied sheepishly, then disappeared down the corridor. Deezee couldn’t count the number of coffees he had consumed in the last two days, but it had been his primary sustenance. Since the news of Zan and Shiva’s deaths had broken the day before, he had been mostly glued to his desk back in Neo London, developing assessments and quietly gathering reactions from the slate of intelligence agencies around the world. Only a brief foray to his stylish apartment in New Camden at two in the morning for a catnap and a change of clothes had offered any respite from the state of chaos that surrounded him.

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As one of MI7’s top analysts, Deezee was used to working twelve-hour days. But he had been unprepared for the fallout from these events. The loss of Zan was bad enough to deal with, but the unexpected murder of Leon Shiva by virtually unknown assailants had caused uproar in the world of intelligence. After all, just who would have the balls to carry out a stunt like that? What kind of shit had Shiva gotten involved in? He sighed, patted down his suit, then picked up a laptop computer and headed for the door. Against his better judgement, he stopped suddenly and wheeled back toward the desk, where he scooped up a ceramic cup half full of coffee. The conference room was a packed house, the mostly male crowd waiting anxiously for his report. On his way in, Adam Hunter shook his hand vigorously. “Good to see you again, Deezee,” Adam smiled. Adam had been Deezee’s childhood friend; they’d known each other their whole lives, having grown up on the same estate in Chicago. “It’s been a while,” Deezee said. They exchanged a few more friendly words, and then Adam took his seat. As Murphy opened the meeting with a brief overview of the situation, Deezee studied the audience. The FBI agents assembled here were mostly young field agents, and looked pretty capable – eager to do the job well and climb the ladder of seniority, where six-figure year-end bonuses could be achieved. Only a few of them had grey hair and paunch bellies, signalling a lifetime of hours spent inside this building’s walls. “And Deezee Kujaku will now discuss the details of the case,” Murphy concluded, passing the stage to him. Plugging his laptop into a projection system, Deezee waited a moment for his PowerPoint presentation to appear on the screen. Murphy walked to the side of the conference room and closed the blinds of a large picture window that offered an impressive view of Pennsylvania Avenue from the high-rise J Edgar Hoover Building. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Leon Shiva,” he began, speaking in a soft but confident voice. A photo of the man jumped to the screen. “I’m sure everybody in this room is familiar with this guy. A former soldier turned global terrorist mastermind, second-in-command to Mr. X himself, and later, the highest leader of the Syndicate. A man responsible for countless atrocities… over two million deaths and the nuclear destruction of the city of Old London. A man who almost destroyed the entire world three years ago.” “Who hasn’t heard of this bastard?” interrupted a jug-eared man named Eli, munching on a donut as he spoke. “This freak should have stayed locked up at Arkham Asylum, where he belongs.” Deezee nodded. “After the destruction of the World Devastator three years ago, Shiva used one of the escape pods to get away, and for the past three years MI7 has been tracking his movements across the planet.” “Don’t tell me he’s re-formed the Syndicate, again…” Eli said, crumbs spraying off his lips. “Actually no,” Deezee told him. “There’s absolutely no evidence to support that whatsoever. As far as we can tell, the Syndicate is still dead and gone – a thing of the past. In fact, Leon Shiva has been travelling the globe these past few years on some kind of weird pilgrimage, visiting various places of religious significance. Cities and tombs, palaces and temples, Christian, Muslim, Hindu, you name it. Our intention was to capture him and find out what he was doing, but he was murdered near Vatican City two days ago in some kind of gang war shootout…”

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“Good riddance,” someone at the back of the room said. Deezee changed the image on the screen. “There were two men involved in the killing. This first man, I believe, is linked to the unsolved FBI bombings of 2013…” There was a shocked silence in the room. Adam’s heart almost leapt out of his chest when he saw the picture, for he recognised the man very well indeed. “Enigma!” he blurted. Deezee frowned. “You know him?” “Of course,” Adam said. “Haven’t you read my report on the World Devastator incident? This is the guy who… was born … on that ship. A Syndicate experiment…” Deezee’s eyes widened. “You mean the Axel Stone double? In your report you said he was killed…” Adam nodded. “I thought he was. We all thought he was. But somehow, he must have survived, and escaped that explosion. How, I don’t know, but I’m telling you, that’s the guy.” Eli finished his donut, and said, “That’s Enigma alright. The FBI has known about this guy’s existence for years. He killed those agents in 2013, but the truth was covered up and buried, in part to protect Axel Stone’s liberty after Enigma’s personality was repressed. Then again, the Syndicate was also trying to cover their tracks.” Adam nodded. “But now they exist as two separate people, two separate bodies. Damn, I can’t believe he’s still alive. Axel will not be happy about this…” “Interesting,” Deezee said. “Well, Enigma also had an accomplice…” He changed the image again. It showed a profile view of a man wearing a black trenchcoat. “We have no idea who this guy is.” Adam frowned as he started at the picture. “He looks like my brother Skate – but slightly older. It’s difficult to see his face. Other than that, I couldn’t tell you.” Deezee took a deep breath and let it out in a big sigh. “Sadly, our operative in the field who took these images, Dr. Gilbert Zan, was also killed in the encounter.” “What?” Adam said. “What are you talking about?” He turned to look at Murphy, with an expression that said, why didn’t you tell me about this? “I’m sorry Adam,” Deezee said. “I know you were close friends with Dr. Zan. I was too. Moments after he took these photographs, we lost contact with him. The satellite link just went kaput. We dispatched a team to investigate, and they discovered the remains of his titanium endoskeleton, scattered over the sea bed, close to where these villains had dumped Leon Shiva’s body.” “Isn’t there a chance you can bring him back?” Adam said, a desperate plea in his voice. “He’s a machine, after all. You’ve done it before…” Deezee shook his head. “The damage was too severe this time, my friend. It’s impossible to salvage any of his components. I’m sorry…” Adam slumped quietly in his seat, his emotions getting the better of him. Zan… The good doctor had been a vital member of Firestorm years ago. He’d saved their skins countless times… but where had they been, when he needed them? This was the second time Adam had had to deal with Zan’s death, and the knowledge it was now permanent left a sour taste in his mouth. “The time to mourn is not now,” Deezee was saying. “We need to focus on this Enigma character… MI7 believes he may pose a significant threat to international security.”

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This couldn’t be happening, Adam thought. Enigma, still alive, running around out there, having killed Zan and Shiva? Whatever was going on, it wasn’t good. “We need Axel and Blaze on this case,” Deezee said. “They’re retired,” Adam said matter-of-factly. “They moved on with their lives, and have no interest in crime fighting anymore. They have two kids to think about now…” Deezee sighed. “I understand that, Adam. But my orders come directly from the President of the NWO. I’m afraid I must insist…”

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2

Sonoran Desert Mexico

The devil rose up, and spun, and seemed to hiss at Galsia before settling back into dust. It was just a dust devil, a swirl of desert wind, but to Galsia, the desert’s uninhabited places had always seemed invisibly peopled – and dust devils were a hint of that secret life. He muttered an unfelt prayer to the Holy Mother and turned back to the dump, not so very far from Chihuahua, where more than a dozen other hired goons crept about under the overcast afternoon sky. They were all former Syndicate thugs – like Galsia himself – who once enjoyed the fruits of that now-defunct criminal organisation. Back in the Syndicate’s heyday, these men were all into drug dealing, extortion, racketeering, and all sorts of other crimes in the name of Mr. X and Shiva. But now, three years after the fall of the once-great organisation, they were the poorest of the poor, hunched over among the moraines of trash, picking at it the way field workers plucked at strawberries in the harvest up north. Usually, scavengers like Galsia searched for saleable clothing – especially shoes – pieces of copper, batteries that could be sold to the unwary as if they were new, appliances that could be repaired or might seem to be intact, even bits of edible food. Families. Children digging through trash alongside rats and crows and sometimes turkey vultures. The ninos sometimes getting sick from the things they rooted about in: poisons from old computers, dumped chemicals. Syringes. Tainted food. It was dangerous work, but you never knew. Once, Galsia had found some money in an old purse, enough for a whole evening’s chido caballo, the best heroin he’d ever had. Remembering the purse, he bent over, poked gingerly at a Styrofoam cooler. Last month, opening one of those, a swarm of wasps had come up and stung him so much he was sick for a week. Still… The cooler was empty but for a few dead flies. Galsia sighed. Today, of course, was different than usual. They weren’t just out here to search for things for their own selfish benefit. No, today they’d actually been hired, they were actually getting paid to do this, by a man calling himself ‘Enigma’. A man who claimed to have killed Shiva days earlier, and was now continuing the man’s global search for ancient religious artifacts, that supposedly held some kind of infernal power. Galsia didn’t know why Enigma wanted those artifacts so badly, and he wasn’t about to question it either. If there was one thing he had learned from his days as a Syndicate thug, it was that you never asked questions. He sighed again. He’d found nothing so far but a pair of mildewed tennis shoes he doubted he could sell. The dump was pretty much picked through. He turned his head, fixing his gaze on the northerly horizon. Enigma stood on a sand dune, watching the search unfold. Galsia shivered, thinking about heroin. He was too poor to sustain much of a habit nowadays. His drugs had been supplied for free by the Syndicate back in the

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day, but now the organisation was gone, the drug wasn’t so readily available. His withdrawal was over long ago, but still, all he thought about was getting more. The relief of dope, the end of pain, until the dose wore off. Now he found himself looking for religious trinkets in a dump, in the hope that his meagre wage would be enough to score his next hit. There had to be a way out of this life. He had tried everything he knew since his mother had died and his father had abandoned him, not far from here, at the age of twelve. How many years ago? Twenty? He had even lived for a while as a chapero before becoming a Syndicate thug. But he couldn’t deal with being a whore for homosexuals. He wasn’t like that. He straightened, looking at the tennis shoes, tied together, dangling in his left hand. Useless, greyed, full of holes. Not even good for replacing Galsia’s tapedtogether cowboy boots. He tossed the tennis shoes aside, muttering, “No tengo ni un puto peso…” He had found nothing, not a fucking penny. “Ay, Galsia! Mi hijo. Que pedo” That was Donovan, a squat, rag-clad older guy, mostly toothless, wearing sunglasses – maybe not so much older, it was hard to tell, with his bald head, his skin reddened from days outdoors picking through the dump with the other scavengers. He had a glue-sniffing habit, too. He might not really be much older than Galsia but he acted like his old man. Nothing but a sanguijuela. A leech. “I’m not your little one, Donovan, and where’s that dope you promised me when I gave you that radio?” Galsia asked, in Spanish. “It’s coming, my boy! Hey – you see that old church over there?” “Church?” Galsia squinted through the swirls of dust at the southern horizon. He could just make out a cross, crooked against the sky, not much else. Maybe a quarter mile off, maybe more. “Nothing but a hole where there was a church.” “The artifact we seek must be there. If we could go there before anyone else spots it…” Galsia was intrigued – but also suspicious. “Why do you tell me about this? If you think there’s something there – “ he approached Donovan, lowering his voice so the others wouldn’t hear – “why wouldn’t you go alone?” “Oh – because like you say, I owe you something…” Donovan looked vaguely at the sky. Galsia scowled, thinking that Donovan wasn’t likely to be concerned about paying a debt. There was only one explanation. Donovan was scared of the place. He was superstitious, even more so than Galsia. “You’re afraid of something, Donovan… the place is supposed to be cursed?” Donovan shrugged. “Some say. Not me. It’s like I say. You’re like my son. I want to share…” “Mi madre!” Galsia snorted sceptically. But he gestured sharply to Donovan, nodding toward the church. He led the way across the rubbish, climbing over a rusted refrigerator, circling a rotten sofa, kicking a crow out of the way that pecked at something bloody wrapped in toilet paper. Galsia thought he saw a tiny little foetal hand, blue and delicate, protruding from the tissue, and he looked away, fixed his attention on the church. It was a good long walk. The dusk had come, and with it the wind had picked up by the time the two scavengers got there. Just the crust of the church was left. Some of the walls stood, leaning, supporting random sections of the roof; some walls had crumbled. The doors had long been carted away. Sand duned against the walls, blown inside the church itself.

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There was a great heap of trash here. At some point someone had even used this church for a dump. That was sacrilegious, wasn’t it? But what did it matter? If God had ever been to this part of Mexico, Galsia figured, he’d left long ago. “Hey – there’s stuff dumped here no-one’s picked through!” Donovan said, bending over a pile of random, rain-rotted clothing. “Oooh, it smells bad! But look, there’s a nice pair of shorts, not much stain…” Galsia was stepping deeper into the church, where part of the roof remained over the nave. He let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. The floor was covered with junk, partly cloaked by blown sand. Most of the junk was without value – he could tell at a glance. An old, broken cross leaning against the wall was half buried in the sand. But there – something shiny, picked out in a ray of light. Maybe the artifact that Enigma was searching for… He took a step toward it… and stopped, feeling a strange chill, as if he’d stepped through an invisible wall into someplace cold. His mouth was dry. He wet his lips and called, “Donovan, why don’t you come in here, too?” “Yes, yes I will. I’ve found some copper…” He could tell by the older man’s voice that he was making excuses. Donovan was obviously reluctant to go inside. He’d heard something about this place, all right. “Huevon!” Galsia shouted. “Carapecha Boun!” No response, except a clattering noise. Galsia shrugged, and muttered, “Melo paso por los huevos…” He pushed his way into the interior of the church – that’s what it felt like, as if the air itself was resisting him. Or warning him. The shining thing. Where was it? He’d lost sight of it. A crunch underfoot – his boot had gone through something. He pulled it free and bent to look. He’d stepped through the dry-rotted wood of an old crate. It looked as if someone had dug up the thing recently, but hadn’t looked inside. Why? He bent closer, and the sound vibrated the air in response: the sound of a million insects chewing at wood and quivering their wings. He imagined beetles and maggots chewing at human bones in a coffin, their sound magnified to a chittering background grinding, merging into a drone that rose and fell… But the sound couldn’t be heard with his ears – it was heard in his mind. It’s fear, he decided. Donovan had awakened his superstition. Ignore it, Galsia. There’s something in that crate – maybe what Enigma has been looking for. Just think of the reward, the money… Setting aside his fear, he bent down and prised open the crate with his bare hands. There, sure enough, was a metallic, disc-shaped artifact, shining in the light, covered with a series of markings, strange hieroglyphs written in some unutterable, long-dead language.

GATEWAY TO THE OTHER SIDE “Madre de Dios!” Galsia muttered, reaching down to pick up the thing. It was cold and heavy in his grip. “Usted lo encontrό!” Donovan beamed. “You found it!”

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Galsia, already spooked half to death, almost jumped out of his skin then, as the menacing figure of Enigma burst into the church behind Donovan, followed by Anthrax, his right-hand man. “I’ll take that,” Enigma said, staring intently at the artifact in Galsia’s hand. “Quickly now, I haven’t got all day…” Galsia didn’t hesitate, and stepped forward, eagerly handing the thing over. Enigma yanked the artifact out of Galsia’s grip. He grinned, running the fingers of his free hand along its exquisitely-crafted surface. “At last!” he said. “Now, we add this to Shiva’s seven pieces, and we only have one more piece left to find!” “We should leave immediately,” Anthrax advised him. Enigma nodded, and they moved back toward the broken doorway. “Wait!” Donovan called. His gaze darted in Galsia’s direction, then back to Enigma. “Do we get the extra payment you promised? For finding the artifact for you?” “Extra payment?” Enigma frowned. “Why, of course.” Then he smiled, a look of pure evil coming over his features. “Anthrax, give these men what they deserve.” Without another word, he walked out. Anthrax stood in the doorway, and pulled out a Desert Eagle handgun. He lifted it toward the two scavengers without hesitation. “Wait!” Galsia screamed. “No!” Donovan cried in unison. Blam! Blam! Two shots was enough, one for each of them. Anthrax spat out a mocking laugh as he watched them die, and then turned, leaving their corpses to the mercy of the desert winds.

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3

Stone Residence Beverley Hills, California August 3rd

Axel Stone woke soon after dawn. He lay drowsily for a while, lulled by the warm comfort of Blaze sleeping beside him, watching the first light of the Californian sun upon the cretonne curtains of their room. He knew from the sun’s rays that it was about five o’ clock: very soon the light would wake his nineteen-month-old baby daughter Jennifer in her cot, and then they would have to get up and start doing things. No need to start before that happened; he could lie a little longer. He woke happy, and it was some time before his conscious senses remembered why and pinned down the origin of this happiness. Yesterday had been his thirty-eighth birthday, and this – his mind turned over slowly – this must be Saturday the 3rd of August. As he lay in bed the sunburn on his back was still a little sore from their day on Hermosa Beach yesterday, and from sailing in the race. They had had a barbeque in the evening, before Blaze had given him a special something in the bedroom to send him off to sleep. He smiled to himself, the memory of the sex still lingering in his mind. His happiness had lasted through the night. Blaze stirred beside him. She asked the time, and he told her. Then he kissed her, and said, “Thanks for last night. It’s a lovely morning again…” She sat up, brushing back her hair. She could feel the warmth of his body against hers as she stretched. A smile came over her lips, as she looked at him in the glow of the morning rays. “No need to thank me,” Blaze told him. “I really enjoyed myself. It couldn’t have been more perfect. I love you so much, my husband…” She bit her lower lip, her fingertips running along his bare chest, making small circles as she looked into his eyes, becoming absorbed in him, in the moment. She moved slightly, beginning to kiss a path down his chest where her fingers just were. After each pressing of her lips she looked up at him, her gaze becoming more animal-like, her pupils dilating. Her smile turned wicked, and then she moved to Axel’s hips and slowly pulled away the bedcovers. Her eyes shone with desire and mischief. Slowly at first, she ran the tip of her index finger along the underside of his manhood, then up and over the tip. Her hand, so small and delicate, wrapped around him. It was then that she heard him moan and smile as she looked up into his eyes. Her hand moved slowly, feeling him respond to her touch, and then she moved her body as Axel’s legs opened slightly, and positioned herself to lie between them. Her tongue darted out and moistened her lips, then ever so slowly she lowered her head to the tip of his penis, savouring each moment. She lightly teased the head with her tongue, then finally let her lips settle around it. She heard him louder now, gasping, her lips wrapped around him, sparkling brown eyes looking up at him as she began moving over him, taking him deeper into her mouth.

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“Oh, Blaze…” Axel whispered raggedly. “You’re the best!” She continued pleasuring him, not moving any faster, taking her time, teasing him with her lips and tongue. Sucking, drawing him in deeper, moving him closer to that glorious release he’d begun to crave. Axel’s hands grabbed her hair, and he guided her rhythm, moving her head over him. Over and over, picking up speed, his hips suddenly buckling as he came into her mouth. Blaze swallowed like a hungry nursling, taking all that he had, then with one last kiss to his manhood she started kissing her way back up his body. “Amazing,” the words slipped from Axel’s mouth as he kissed her. Blaze smiled. “I just couldn’t help myself.” She moved to the side of him, and his hands ran along the bare skin of her side, over her hip. Just his touch alone sent chills over Blaze’s body. Axel could feel the goose bumps rising on her skin, and he looked at her with an amused smile. “You know I’m always complaining about the cold,” she said. “I think I can keep you warm,” he told her. “You think…?” Blaze said, edging him on. His lips pressed to hers, opening for her tongue. His hands were still moving, caressing, touching. His lips moved, nipping at her bottom lip before moving down her neck, along her collar bone. Blaze’s hands clenched into the sheets, already so aroused from just moments ago. Axel’s lips found her large breasts, first the left then the right. Nipping, sucking and gently biting at them just the way she liked it, until she cried out in longing. His teasing was slow, her body lifting, wanting more of its own accord. “Fuck me,” she demanded. Then Axel’s body was covering hers, and he kissed her again, tasting that sweet essence on her lips. His body nudged her, and she moved her hips to accept him, gritting her teeth as he forced his penis deep inside her vagina. She gasped as she felt him filling, taking over her. Her nails gripped the skin of his bare back as he moved inside her already sensitised body. Each thrust so utterly perfect, hitting her in that spot right there, and she was panting, gasping, crying out for him. “Oh, oh, fuck me!” The pleasure crashed over her in waves and she cried out, her voice filling the room as she felt him push her into climax. Her body tightened, her hips pressing around him, wanting to hold him inside. She gasped his name, her large breasts bouncing with the violent motion of the sex, and then the spasms became too much for him. He grunted, then ejaculated deep inside her, and they collapsed into a satisfied, sweaty heap. For a moment they said nothing. The rapid rising and falling of their chests matched as they lay there, collecting themselves, their thoughts. They had a connection, a desire, a passion that would last a lifetime. Axel wondered if he could ever get enough of this, of touching her, fucking her, having this beautiful, insatiable woman as his wife. “That was amazing, as usual,” Axel said, looking at her. “Yes it was, yes you are,” she winked at him. They both laughed and smiled at each other. Their lips met, lightly kissing, touching. Her fingers started making little circles on his chest as they had when this dance begun. Then she sighed before looking over at the clock. It read 0527. The baby stirred, and started chuntering and making little whimpering noises. Axel reached out and turned the switch of the electric kettle on the tray of tea things and baby food beside the bed.

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Blaze sat up, frowning slightly. “I got sunburned yesterday,” she said. “I put some Aloe Vera stuff on Jennifer last night, but I really don’t think she ought to go down to the beach again today.” He nodded. “We’ll stay at home. Have a day in the shade.” “I think we should.” He got up and went to the bathroom. When he came back Blaze was up too; the baby was sitting on her pot and Blaze was drawing a comb through her hair before the looking glass. He sat down on the edge of the bed in a horizontal beam of sunlight, and made the tea. She said, “It would be nice if our son made us breakfast in bed for a change…” He nodded, smiling. Their son, Max, was only eight years old. “Yeah. I imagine he’s too busy with his training or playing video games though, to worry about a thing like that.” He sipped his tea and glanced at his watch. “I’ll go out to the store and get some milk as soon as I’ve drunk this.” He pulled on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, and was just about to finish his tea and go out, when the bedside phone rang. Axel answered it. “Hello?” Blaze frowned. Who could be calling them at this time in the morning? She looked at Axel and mouthed silently, Who is it? Adam, he mouthed back, and his expression was grim. “Um-hum. Um-hum. You’ve got to be kidding me, really? Oh, man. Oh, man, this is bad…oh, no. Okay buddy, we’ll be on the first flight out of LAX. Yeah, see you then. Bye.” He replaced the receiver, and sighed heavily, staring into thin air, collecting his thoughts. “What the hell is going on?” Blaze asked, looking concerned. Axel shook his head. “Something terrible has happened,” he muttered, struggling to put what he’d just heard into words. “What is it?” Axel opened his mouth to speak, his happy demeanour completely changed into one of dark depression. “Zan’s dead.” Blaze blinked. Her heart felt like it had suddenly been shot out of her chest. “Dr. Zan? How?” Axel licked his lips. “Killed… four days ago, by Enigma, not far from Vatican City. Enigma’s back…” Her eyes widened. “Enigma? But he’s dead, isn’t he…?” Axel shook his head. “Apparently not. He also killed Shiva, who it seemed also survived the World Devastator three years ago. Now Enigma is up to something, something sinister… Adam needs our help.” Blaze frowned. “Back up. I don’t understand…” “Get dressed,” he told her. “I’ll explain everything on the way to the airport. We have a plane to catch…”

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4 Arrival in Washington

Once they got through customs at Washington Dulles International Airport, Axel rented a cheap electric car to cover the thirty-or-so miles from Dulles, Virginia, to the metropolitan area of Washington D.C. The Rent-A-Car clerk handed over the keys with a dull expression, wishing them a safe journey. As they dragged their luggage through the arrivals lounge towards the exit, Blaze sighed. “I’m going to miss our babies, Axel. Remind me again why I agreed to come on this trip.” “I don’t think we had much choice,” Axel told her. “The President himself requested our involvement, and you can’t exactly say ‘no’ to somebody like that. Our past experiences pretty much make us the only people who can stop Enigma. Anyway, don’t worry about the kids. Max and Jennifer will be just fine. My sister loves taking care of them, she was only too happy to help us out.” Blaze nodded. She would still miss them, despite Axel’s reassurances. Their rental car, a black Citroen C3 Picasso, was waiting for them beside the entrance to the airport. Axel popped the trunk and loaded their bags into the back, while Blaze got in the passenger side door. He took the luggage trolley back to its station, then got in the driver side door and sank into the deeply sprung seat, putting the car into drive. They moved off with an unrepentant squeal of rubber. Blaze watched the terminal go by through the car window, the different planes sitting on the runway, the hustle and bustle of activity down on the ground, then stared up at a United Airlines jet that soared into land over their heads. A moment later they were leaving the vicinity of the airport and joining the freeway, heading towards Fairfax County. As Axel drove, he became aware of a motorcycle in his wing mirror and instinctively hit the brake. These speed cops seemed to be everywhere nowadays. However, the bike seemed to fall back at the same moment, maintaining speed with him. Suspicious he was being followed, Axel decided to take an alternate route. Without signalling, he left the freeway at the nearest exit and took the road towards Centreville, away from the main flow of traffic leaving the busy international airport. He kicked the accelerator to beat the first red light before checking his mirror again. The bike was still there. “What are you doing?” Blaze frowned. “We’ve got company,” he told her. Axel felt a mixture of irritation and excitement. It was galling to be followed in this amateurish fashion when they were on their way to deal with a problem as large and dangerous as that posed by Enigma. Just before the next intersection he suddenly wrenched the wheel round to the right. He had judged the line of the turn well, and the tyres held the road close. Axel checked his mirrors once more, and felt a tremor of anxiety. There was not one but two motorcycles now – big BMWs – and no car could outsprint a bike. The riders put

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their heads down and twisted their right wrists. The roar of their engines filled the quiet street. “Who are these guys?” Blaze moaned. In a few moments, the bikes were either side of their car. Now Axel had to take them seriously. “Blaze, did you pack a gun?” he asked. “Sure did,” she said. Before she could take the Beretta from its holster, however, there was a shattering roar as the glass of the front passenger window was broken by a bullet. Through the open space, Blaze fired off a clip. Axel braked hard. Braking was the one thing cars were quicker at than bikes, and he bought himself a momentary glimpse of the second motorcycle, which had now slightly overshot them. Blaze leaned forward, reloaded, and through the broken window fired again with both hands. The rider jerked forward, hit squarely in the shoulder, and his bike slid away from under his body, showering sparks along the road. The original motorcyclist was now alongside them on the off side, and Axel could see that they were nearing the end of the street, where it came to a right-angled junction. He estimated they were travelling about fifty, and he needed to slow down if he was to complete the manoeuvre he had in mind. He saw the rider lift his left hand to fire, making himself vulnerable for a moment with only one hand on the handlebars and no control of the clutch. Axel smacked the footbrake, dropped the wheel to his right, then hauled up the handbrake. With a tortured squeal of tyres and a smell of burning, the car juddered, then whipped its tail round, straight into the front wheel of the BMW. Axel felt the impact of the bike’s momentum as it hit, then crumpled, sending its rider head over heels up into the junction ahead. As he landed on his back, the man’s gun went off once, impotently. Axel puffed air out of his cheeks, put the car back into drive and headed east, sedately, back toward the freeway. “That was interesting,” he muttered. Blaze nodded, holstering her gun. “It figures that Enigma would try to kill us the moment we got involved.” The rest of the journey to Washington D.C. passed without incident. Axel swung off the freeway and down a smaller road, then, after two or three minutes’ driving, emerged onto Pennsylvania Avenue. As they passed the White House, Axel looked at the famous estate, remembering his visit there during the Project Y incident thirteen years earlier. Then, soon enough, they had reached the J Edgar Hoover Building, national headquarters of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. They pulled into the main parking lot and went inside. A desk clerk gave them visitor passes, and once they were through the metal detectors, Adam Hunter came to greet them. “Axel, Blaze,” he said, a beaming grin coming over his face. He took Blaze’s hand and kissed her on the cheek, then gave Axel a friendly pat on the back. “It’s so good to see you, my friends. Sorry for dragging you all the way out here from California, but I didn’t have much choice in the matter.” Axel nodded. “It’s good to see you too, Adam. It’s been a while.” Blaze smiled. “Yeah, good to see you! Axel said something about the President asking for us…” Adam licked his lips. “Right. We’ve already got the FBI, MI7 and Interpol assisting with this investigation, but nobody can help get into the mind of Enigma like you guys. Especially you, Axel.” He gestured. “Walk with me.”

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They walked down a corridor, and Axel observed the busy activity around them, agents carrying documents, chattering, the phones ringing. For a moment he was reminded what it felt like being a cop at the LAPD all those years ago. Sometimes, he missed those old days, that old buzz of excitement that he always got when working in a large team like this. “Somebody tried to kill us on the road up from the airport,” Axel said as they turned a corner. “Almost succeeded, too. Luckily, we managed to shake them off.” “Really?” Adam seemed genuinely surprised. “Who was it?” Axel shook his head. “Not sure. But I’m assuming it has something to do with Enigma’s reappearance. Some kind of hired assassins maybe…” “News travels fast in this world,” Adam said. “Yeah, maybe too fast,” Blaze hissed. “That’s the trouble with living in a digital age,” Adam said. “Enigma must be better connected than I first thought…” They went down three flights of stairs, and eventually, they reached a door with the word MORGUE stencilled in black letters. Adam gripped the doorknob, paused, and turned to look at them. A half-smile played over his lips. “Check this out,” he said.

Inside the morgue, Adam waited while the young female attendant went to gain authorisation to show them a body. She came back with the FBI’s resident pathologist, a friend of Adam’s, a senior-looking man with gold glasses and a neat black moustache. He shook hands with Axel and Blaze, introducing himself as Doctor Hoffman. “Good to meet you,” he said. Checking and rechecking the numbers on the attendant’s sheet against those on the fridge drawers, Hoffman eventually found what he wanted and hauled with both hands on the thick metal handle. It was a sight that Blaze Fielding-Stone would not soon forget, and it gave her a frisson of perverse excitement. Leon Shiva’s corpse was already greyish, cold, and although it had been cleaned up, the hideously smashed and broken face was a mess. Ninety percent of his skull lay in fragments around what was left of his jaw and cheekbones. Shiva looked like thousands of other gunshot murder victims, and yet, it was unique and strangely refreshing, to see this man, who had cheated death more than once before, laying in the grips of rigor mortis before them. “Cause of death?” said Axel. “Single bullet, fired through the mouth, from a distance of about fifty feet,” Hoffman told them. “Death was probably instantaneous. A second bullet impacted on the cranium, causing much of the skull to fracture and explode, but he was already dead at that point.” Blaze frowned, leaning over the corpse, examining it. “What are these other gunshot wounds?” “He took several shots to the chest at first,” Hoffman said, “puncturing his lungs in several places. But it wasn’t enough to kill him. The bruising on his knees suggests a staggered fall, so the fatal shot was probably delivered when he was down, finishing him off.” Axel winced. “That’s a pretty brutal way to go.”

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Adam nodded. “Enigma meant business, that’s for sure. Unfortunately for our Dr. Zan, he wasn’t taking any prisoners…” Blaze swallowed dryly. The loss of Zan was still a big shock to her. “Any idea of the motivation behind Shiva’s murder?” Axel asked, looking up at his former partner, trying to steer the conversation away from the loss of their friend. “Well, like I explained to you on the phone, Shiva was travelling around the globe, visiting various religious sites….” “Right. I remember thinking that was strange.” “Our experts have been researching this for days now. What we know is that these sites are all possible resting places, for a series of ancient artifacts supposedly… ‘imbued’ with some kind of… ‘infernal power’. We believe that Enigma killed Shiva to steal the artifacts he had gathered, and use their power for himself.” “To what end?” Blaze asked. “I’m not sure,” Adam said. “Deezee, our man from MI7, is the real expert right now. He’s heading up the research team. We should go speak with him, and update ourselves on the situation…”

“There are nine of these artifacts altogether,” Deezee told them, his expression grim. “They’re called the Kaeyus Infernus. We believe that Shiva has already unearthed seven of them, based on his movements over the past three years. Now, reports are coming in of Enigma digging in the sands of Mexico, near Chihuahua. If we assume he finds one there… that brings the total to eight pieces now in his possession.” “Which leaves just one more to find,” Axel observed. They were sitting in a large room, one of three which had been dedicated solely to this investigation. “So what happens if he finds all nine pieces, and puts them together?” Blaze asked. “What exactly is this ‘Kaeyus Infernus’?” Deezee licked his lips. “That’s open to interpretation right now,” he said. “It’s supposedly a legendary device, spoken of in the Egyptian Book of the Dead, which acts as a door — or a key to a door — to another dimension or plane of existence. It creates a ‘schism’, if you will, opens a portal to another realm, through which beings may travel in either direction. The inhabitants of the other side were said to be ‘possessed of fantastical evil’ by the ancient Egyptians, who worshipped them as gods.” Blaze sighed a half-laugh, a tired sound, and shook her head. “A portal to Hell? Sounds exactly like the sort of thing that would interest Shiva, and Enigma,” she muttered. Axel nodded. “I know what makes Enigma tick. This is definitely something that would arouse his curiosity. If he was willing to kill Shiva to get this thing, we can assume it does exist, and that the threat is very real.” “Any clues to where the last piece can be found?” Adam asked. “Actually, yes,” Deezee said. “The remaining piece is known as the Tablet of Flame, and is said to be buried in Egypt. More precisely, the Valley of the Kings, in the tomb of a Pharaoh named Smenkhkare.” Axel took a deep breath, nodding to himself. “Egypt, huh? That’s somewhere I’ve never been before.”

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“Well, that’s about to change,” Adam said. “We need to find that artifact before Enigma does, and destroy it, by any means necessary. Then we take out Enigma, and flush all this proverbial shit away…” “Agreed,” Blaze said. “We need to end this thing, once and for all. So, when do we leave?”

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5

Cairo, Egypt (‫ القـــاھـــــرة‬al-Qāhira) August 5th 09:46am When he emerged from the shower, Axel found no trace of Blaze in their expensive hotel room, though on the king-size bed she had left a note written in pen: ‘Axel, Meet me in the Isis Bar xxx’. Axel towel-dried himself then dressed in smart clothing, before he tracked down Blaze to one of the upstairs bars, where she sat on a stool by the window, innocently sipping a drink. “Oh, there you are, Axel,” she smiled. “Sorry, I just couldn’t wait any longer – this jet lag really bites hard. It’ll be a while before I adapt to this ten-hour time difference.” Axel nodded. He pushed back his hair, which was still damp from the shower, and smiled at his wife’s earnest expression. “Same here. I think I need a drink, too.” He joined her by the window, bringing a fresh gin and tonic for her, a litre of Vittel and a bottled beer for himself. The view from the window was fantastic; the city of Cairo, with its palm trees, lush resorts, shining white buildings, and the Alqahira tower in the background. A shame we’re not here on vacation, Axel thought wearily. He could have used a dip in the communal pool outside. Maybe next time. Blaze crossed her legs and turned to Axel. “Did Adam mention what time we were heading out to the Valley of the Kings?” Axel nodded, taking a swig of his beer. “It’ll be around lunchtime, if all goes well. That gives us a couple of hours to kill…” Adam Hunter and Deezee Kujaku had left the hotel early this morning, not only to secure some transportation across the miles of desert they had to cover, but also to have their little excavation authorised by the Egyptian authorities. Most of the tombs in the Valley area were not open to the public, but a special concession could be granted in their case, in the interests of international security. They would also need to close down the entire site from tourists, just in case any violence broke out, as it inevitably would. Blaze finished her drink, then jumped down from her stool. “We should get some breakfast,” she said. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day…” “Good idea,” said Axel. He paid for the drinks and they went outside, where he donned a pair of dark sunglasses. Even at this time in the morning, the Cairo sun was as strong and hot as it was in California at high noon, and it still had some way to go yet. Blaze spent some minutes examining tourist brochures, and while he waited Axel watched the reflection of the sun across the stone floor and over the slim figure of this girl he admired so much. Her enthusiasm to experience the local culture seemed quite guileless. Decided, she lightly took his arm. “You can take me to the Livorno,” she told him. “It’s only five minutes away. We can walk along the river.”

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The restaurant she’d chosen had a long terrace overlooking the Nile with only a footpath between the tables and the river. The waiter, who seemed unable to take his eyes off Blaze, ushered them to a table directly overlooking the river and the Left Bank beyond. While they perused the exquisite menu selections, the waiter brought them a bottle of champagne, some olives, and a stick of bread with some butter. Axel poured them each a glass of champagne, and took a gulp. The cold bubbles fizzed on his dry throat. “I’ll be inebriated before we even start this morning, if we’re not careful,” he joked. Blaze giggled, buttered a slice of bread and ate it. When the waiter returned, Axel ordered a pungent, aromatic lamb dish, while Blaze ordered some kind of shellfish special. The waiter bowed, and moved off. “So, how are you feeling about the Enigma thing after all this time?” Blaze asked, sipping her drink. Her dark brown eyes engaged his. Axel sighed. “I’m not sure, to be perfectly honest with you,” he said. “I thought that Enigma had gone up in smoke with the World Devastator three years ago…” “We all did.” “Right. I wasn’t happy when I heard that he had survived… It’s still kind of unsettling to know that somewhere out there, your original body… the one your mother gave birth to… is running around doing its own thing, completely independent of you. Sometimes, it feels too creepy for words.” “I can only imagine,” Blaze said. Axel looked at her. “You probably have more idea than most people, though, what with the whole homo superior cloning thing.” She nodded. Took a hard gulp of her champagne. “True. That wasn’t exactly easy to deal with either. Hard to believe twelve years have passed since then…” The waiter brought the meals to the table, and they started eating. Axel didn’t realise how hungry he was until he took his first mouthful. He began putting it away in earnest, determined to soak up the alcohol he’d been drinking. “I have to admit,” Axel said, “for all the pain and trouble that Enigma represents, I am kinda relieved that we’re no longer fighting the Syndicate. In a way, it feels good to be working with a different objective this time…” Blaze nodded. “I know what you mean, Axel. We spent over twelve years fighting the Syndicate. It became the definition of our lives. And me, well, my entire life has been a testament to the Syndicate’s evil. Personally though, I feel that Enigma, as he exists today, was created by them. To me, it feels like this mission is going to be the final nail in their coffin. The defeat of Enigma will be the final and utter defeat of everything the Syndicate represented, as an ideal, not just an organisation. Sorry if that sounds silly, maybe I’ve had a bit too much to drink…” Axel shook his head. “Not at all. It makes perfect sense.” They finished their meals, and the waiter cleared the table. He came back with fresh pineapple and cream, and a dark espresso for each of them. “This coffee tastes good,” Blaze said. The effects of her jet lag had largely worn off by now. “It’s sobering me up nicely.” Afterward, Axel left a generous tip, and they walked back to the hotel, where Adam and Deezee were waiting for them in the foyer. “Everything is set,” Adam told them. “We leave whenever you’re ready – and we’ll be travelling in style!”

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***

The private airfield was located on the northern outskirts of Cairo, just beyond the Giza plateau. It took a little over fifteen minutes to reach it from the hotel by road, and when he stepped out of the car, Axel Stone saw what Adam had meant. He walked forwards over the desert sand, towards what he recognised at once as a classic Soviet twin-engined Mi-8 Hip. It had a five-blade main rotor and was capable of carrying up to thirty-six passengers. It was fast approaching midday, and the sun was searingly hot during the short walk from the hired car to the aircraft. The slowly moving blades were already whipping up the sand as they climbed the steps. There were ten more of Deezee’s men inside, specialist MI7 agents trained in taking down the likes of Enigma, all armed and dressed in plain T-shirts with army combat trousers and heavy ammunition belts. The cargo door was pulled shut, the rotors accelerated and, with an effortless surge, the helicopter swept up into the air, banked left and roared away over the desert. They flew south-east, following the course of the Nile, traversing the severalhundred-mile distance at a considerable chop. The journey took almost two hours, by which time the heat was becoming oppressive. When the helicopter eventually put down on the outskirts of the Theban Necropolis, it was next to a modest caravanserai, a rectangle of improvised buildings to which water had been fed from the Nile. They left the chopper and had drinks and refreshments in the open courtyard, before they were told the rest of the journey must be made by camel. There were about two dozen tethered camels in the caravanserai, more than enough for their entire party. Local Arabs had trained the animals to follow a specific route across the desert towards the Valley of the Kings, by placing watered stops at each end. When they were ready, they climbed up onto the camels’ backs, thrust their hands through reins made from hemp, and started out on the final leg of the journey, across rolling sand dunes with no sign of human habitation for miles around. The camels walked in single file, traversing the two mile stretch slowly but surely, the desert winds hurling hot sands in their faces, the heat like a Hellish inferno. A few minutes later, they descended into a valley floor, an ancient river-bed between two large cliff walls of sedimentary rock, and Axel found himself in the vast, ancient, awe-inspiring graveyard he’d imagined, in the hotel, as the ends of the earth. It was the length of a small city, and contained over seventy tombs in total, ranging in size from simple pits in the ground to complex chambers with over one-hundred-andtwenty rooms. A long, ancient walkway was carved through the heart of the Valley; a vast flight of steps, stretching over the timeless sand dunes and separating the silent tombs, complete with hand rails positioned on either side. It created an eerie but convenient path through the dead city, designed by architects long gone. The place had a tight, claustrophobic feeling that Axel couldn’t quite shake off. “God Almighty…” Blaze muttered. “This place gives me the creeps.” The dry heat was intense, and bearing down on them relentlessly. They reached a watering spot installed by the local Arabs, and jumped down from their camels, allowing the thirsty animals to drink. Deezee pulled out a map of the Valley, tracing its contours with a finger, muttering to himself.

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Adam, thirsty as hell, unwrapped his protective head scarf, and took a deep breath of the hot desert air. “This heat is unbearable,” he moaned. “I thought the Mojave was bad enough. And those camels stink…” Blaze gulped back warm water from a canteen, her eyes scanning the tombs up on the hillside, then handed it to Adam. “Drink some of that,” she told him, “and stop complaining.” Axel stood with Deezee, deciding which way they should head next. Deezee pointed to a spot on his map he’d marked with an ‘X’ in biro, then pointed his finger south down the valley. “We should head that way,” he said. “The tomb of Smenkhkare should be just over the next hill.” The party moved forward. Axel held Blaze’s hand as they walked. His only hope was that Enigma hadn’t beaten them to it.

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6 Smenkhkare’s Tomb

The entrance to Smenkhkare’s humble tomb was located in the central area of the Valley, directly across from Ramesses II. It was accessed by a flight of twenty steps, cut into the Valley’s bedrock and covered by a large, overhanging rock. The tomb’s outer door was partially concealed by two cemented limestone blocks, plastered and stamped with the seal of the Royal Necropolis, depicting the jackalheaded god Anubis and nine captives. Blaze felt herself tensing as they climbed the steps – a combination of both the intense desert heat, and the anxiety she felt over what they were going to find here. “This tomb was originally excavated in 1907,” Deezee explained, clicking on a flashlight before leading them all inside. The sloping corridor beyond the entrance was partially filled up by rubble. “If the artifact is here,” he continued, “it’s most likely going to be extremely well hidden, in some kind of secret chamber.” After a few dozen feet, they emerged into what appeared to be the tomb’s main burial chamber. “What a mess,” Blaze observed, frowning. “Looks like this place has seen better days…” The walls were plastered but otherwise undecorated. Rubble from the corridor had spread down into the chamber, partially covering its floor with debris, and fragments of plastering had fallen from the walls. At the far end of the chamber, scaffolding had been erected to support the crumbling roof, and stones which had fallen down from the ceiling covered the floor. Lying against the chamber’s southern wall was a badly damaged stone sarcophagus, empty, its lid ajar, parts of its base smashed altogether. Two badly preserved boxes were in the south-eastern corner of the room, their contents long since stolen by grave robbers. “Okay, people,” Deezee said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Let’s get to work. I want you to check around the walls for any signs of a hidden chamber – cracks, hollow areas, anything that might suggest something lurking behind…” The ten-man crew of MI7 operatives sprung into action like a well-oiled machine, and Blaze felt increasingly grateful for their help on this mission. With such a large team at their disposal, covering these four walls (which were of a considerable size) would take a lot less time than if it was just the four of them working alone. She moved to the easterly wall with Axel and Adam, touching her hands to the cold surface, feeling for the slightest imperfections in the three-thousand-year-old workmanship that might suggest a hidden entrance. “I’m no archaeologist,” she muttered to herself. “This is going to take me a while…” Adam took a deep breath. The air was filled with centuries-old dust and a stale, unpleasant odour of death and decay. He grimaced, yearning for a nice, clean air-conditioned room and a cold American beer. French fries, and maybe a SourDough Jack. “Well, it looks like we got here first,” he said, blinking sweat out of his eyes. “I see no evidence that Enigma has been here at all – yet.”

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Axel nodded in agreement, but didn’t say anything. Deep down, he was experiencing an uncomfortable sense of dread, expecting Enigma to barge his way in to the place at any moment. He found his gaze darting repeatedly to the rubble-strewn corridor which led back out to the desert. Paranoid, but with good reason. For the moment, at least, there was no sign of his evil doppelganger. After only a few minutes, one of the MI7 guys whistled loudly, getting their attention, then shouted. “Over here! I found something!” Excitedly, the group stopped what they were doing and gathered around him. His name was Cameron, a short dark-haired man of thirty-five. His back was arched over slightly, his ear pressed against the stonework, listening intently. “What is it?” Deezee asked, squinting his eyes. “Look,” Cameron said. He tapped his knuckles against the wall slightly to the right. The sound came back as a dull thud. Then he tapped his knuckles again, this time slightly to the left, and it made a more hollow, deeper sound than before. “There’s something behind there,” Blaze observed. Deezee licked his lips. “This could be it. Nice work, Cam. Now, we’re going to have to break this wall down to see if we’re right.” He reached for one of the sledge hammers they’d brought with them and twirled it in his right hand. Axel winced, taking a sledge hammer himself. He stared at the threethousand-year-old wall with a sense of disappointment. “This feels like desecration,” he said solemnly. “Hard to believe they’re allowing us to do this…” Deezee pressed his lips together. “In the interests of world security, we don’t have much choice. Besides, Smenkhkare’s mummy has been at the Cairo Museum for over a hundred years now. He won’t mind if we take a quick look…” ***

It took almost twenty minutes to break through the wall, and once they had opened up a hole large enough to step through, Deezee’s eyes widened with amazement. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “we will be the first people to step foot in this room for over three-thousand years. Truly, this is a humbling moment…” He stepped in, closely followed by Adam. The light beams from their torches were illuminated by a large cloud of dust which had been thrown up by the violent demolition of the wall. Blaze, squinting her eyes for a better view in the darkness and dust clouds, went through next, closely followed by Axel, Cameron and seven of the others. Two of the MI7 guys, agents Barnes and Johnson, stayed behind to watch their backs from the main chamber. Once the dust had settled, Blaze saw they were in a large rectangular room, slightly smaller than the first, but infinitely more precious. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with hieroglyphic inscriptions so clear and well preserved they could have been carved yesterday. Scattered throughout the room were curious artefacts made from solid gold: vases, dishes and canopi jars with individual stands. There were also fragments of furniture, a silver head of a goose, pall-discs of gilded copper and a large statue of Horus, the falcon-headed god of the sun, made from plinth. Wooden treasures abounded too, though these seemed to have suffered from water damage to some extent. The presence of moisture was also apparent in discolouration visible on some of the faience objects. At the end of the chamber was a shrine carved from gold, decorated with precious stones, with several small seal impressions underneath its panels. And there, atop the shrine, was a small tablet made

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of polished black granite, covered with hieroglyphs. The tablet was about six inches on every side, presented on what looked like the ancient Egyptian equivalent of a display box for a collector’s baseball. “The Tablet of Flame!” Deezee whispered fervently. “So it does exist!” For a moment he felt drawn to the object, as if he and it were inextricably tied together. He understood, from his research, just how much the ancient Egyptians, as a people, had poured their very essence into the Kaeyus Infernus, how they had knowingly created a key to shake the very foundations of reality in order to reach the domain of the gods; that here sat a piece of a mystical device whose properties could only vaguely be explained by modern science. Gingerly, he stepped across the room and picked up the little black tablet. It felt light and cool in his grip, yet somehow heavy at the same time. “It doesn’t look like much,” Blaze observed. “Are you sure that’s it?” Deezee nodded. “I’m pretty sure it has to be…” Suddenly, they heard the piercing sound of gunfire echoing loudly from the main chamber, and agent Barnes let out a blood-curdling scream which trailed off into a liquid gurgle. Immediately, Cameron and the other seven guys reached for their weapons and moved back through the makeshift door to backup their colleagues. Gunfire rattled instantly, frantic shouts barking out. “Shit!” Axel cried. He followed without hesitation, and once he was through the doorway, his fears were realised: there was Enigma, pistol in hand, darting around the room like a man possessed, punching, kicking, and shooting his way around the MI7 agents with the speed and ferocity of an insane, rabid lion. God, he was so fast! Faster than anything Axel had ever seen before. Within seconds, Enigma had murdered the entire team of ten agents, and stood there, half-cloaked in shadow, watching Axel with an amused, pumped-up grin on his face, sucking blood from his fingers. “Well, well, well,” Enigma said. “If it isn’t my former self, Axel Stone. I have a score to settle with you, my boy.” Axel glared at him, flexing his muscles. “Likewise.” Adam, Deezee and Blaze emerged from the hole in the wall then. Deezee was cradling the Tablet of Flame in both arms as if it were a newborn baby, and when he saw the bloodied bodies of his men scattered around the chamber he gasped in horror, almost dropping the thing with stunned fright. “Thanks for recovering my artifact for me,” Enigma said, beaming. “You’ve saved me the trouble of doing it myself…” Adam laughed. “Your artifact? What makes you think we’re just going to hand it over?” He took a step forward. “We came halfway round the world for this…” Enigma grinned. “I’m holding all the aces, Adam.” Then he turned his head slightly. “Anthrax!” he called. “Get in here!” A moment later, another figure emerged from the rubble-strewn corridor, wearing a hood. Adam and Deezee both vaguely recognised him from the surveillance footage Zan had taken in Italy – though they had never seen his face clearly then. When the man pulled back his hood to reveal his facial features, Adam Hunter gasped, unable to believe his eyes. Anthrax was dark-skinned, thirty-two years old, with dark, sunken eyes, heavy from years of emotional scarring. His face was pock-marked with the physical scars of multiple gunshot wounds which had yet to heal. There was absolutely no mistaking the man’s identity now, but how was it possible? “No!” Adam howled. “It can’t be… you… you died nine years ago!”

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“Impossible,” Axel frowned. He blinked, his rage diluting with other emotions: confusion, fear, sadness, regret, relief… he felt weak at the knees, less able to fight than he did a moment ago. Blaze took a step back, her face pale like she’d just seen a ghost. A ghost from Firestorm’s past… “What’s going on here?” she demanded. Her mind whirled. “This can’t be happening!” Anthrax stepped forward into the light of their torch beams then, opening his arms wide. “Really, Blaze, is that any way to greet an old friend after all these years?” He turned to Adam, who seemed frozen to the spot, lost for words. “And you, Adam,” Anthrax continued, “I thought you’d be a little happier to see me.” Adam swallowed dryly. Anthrax raised his eyebrows, a playful yet cunning smile on his lips. “I am your younger brother, after all…”

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7 Confrontation

“Skate!” Adam Hunter felt like somebody had taken his heart and thrown it to the ground, then stamped it to a bloody pulp beneath their feet. Here, right before his eyes, was the younger brother he believed had been dead for nine years – the brother whose grave he’d visited so often in that time, now apparently alive and well, and working with Enigma! “The name is no longer Skate,” the man revealed, looking slightly annoyed by the use of his former nickname. “Nowadays, I go by the alias of Anthrax.” Adam blinked, and shrugged his shoulders. “What’s in a nickname, really? Mom and I used to call you Sammy when you were younger. Whatever you’re calling yourself now, you are Eddie Hunter…” Anthrax snorted. “Eddie Hunter? Ha! Perhaps once upon a time. That guy died nine years ago, like the pathetic cunt that he was. No, I am only Anthrax now, through and through, make no mistake about it.” Blaze frowned. “You did die. I saw it with my own eyes. Mr. X unloaded his Tommy Gun into you. I saw the bullets rip through your flesh. I saw you laying there, stone dead, a blank stare… there’s no way you could have survived. We held a funeral for you and everything, buried you six feet under the ground…” Anthrax smirked. “You’re quite right, Blaze. I was dead. The wounds inflicted on me were very real. But have your experiences with the Syndicate taught you nothing…?” Axel sighed. He had a good idea where Anthrax was going with this. “What happened to you?” he probed. “My body was exhumed some months after the funeral,” Anthrax explained. “It was taken to Onihime and Yasha, the Syndicate’s leading genetic scientists. The perverts of nature responsible for Projects Homo Superior and Homo Universalis. They restored me to life.” “But why?” Tears were swelling in Adam’s eyes. He blinked them back, trying to resist the emotions thundering through his system. “Why would they do that?” Anthrax looked at him. “Why not? Put yourself in Mr. X’s shoes. At this point, Firestorm had defeated the Syndicate four times, and crushed his forty-year masterplan. When Mr. X came back again with the Sons of Darkness, he was desparate to get rid of you quickly so that you couldn’t foil his plans again. He basically used me for information. He wanted to know all the secrets of Firestorm so he could launch a surprise attack…” “And you told him?!” Adam blurted. Axel nodded thoughtfully. “So it was you that led the Syndicate to Firestorm Headquarters five years ago. A lot of good people died in that airstrike…”

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Blaze gritted her teeth, the memory of that day still strong. Their son Max had been badly injured in that attack, and the base in Colorado had been destroyed. “Since when did you become a Syndicate stooge, Skate?” Anthrax shrugged. “Like I told you, Skate is dead. I became a new man, with new goals and aspirations, thanks to Onihime and Yasha. Once Mr. X and the Sons of Darkness were killed, my association with the Syndicate ended. When Shiva took over and built the World Devastator, I was living off-the-grid.” “What brought you back into the fold?” Axel asked. Anthrax laughed. “When you destroyed the World Devastator, Shiva’s escape pod came down into the ice near where I was hiding out, in Alaska. Ironically, I decided to rescue him.” Axel frowned, and looked at Enigma. “I suppose you were able to get to an escape pod, too.” Enigma grinned. “Of course. And I spent a long time planning my revenge. Not just for my humiliation at your hands, Axel. I also wanted revenge on Shiva, who I saw as a repeated failure. Just like Mr. X, he had worked for the Syndicate’s cause for decades and achieved virtually nothing aside from a few grand gestures. The Syndicate had completely collapsed – now as useless as the men who had been in charge of it all. Shiva deserved his death. When he started his search for the pieces of the Kaeyus Infernus, he recruited me to help. Little did he know, Anthrax and I were planning to kill him from very early on. Now he’s gone, we’re going to do things properly…” Adam was staring at Anthrax. “It’s not too late, brother,” he said to him. “You can still come back to us… we’re your friends, your family…” Anthrax spat, disgusted at the notion. “I have no family, you pathetic moron. Have you heard nothing I have said? I am Anthrax now!” Blaze swallowed dryly. The tension in the room was mounting, and her aura was flowing strongly inside of her, beginning to build up, yearning for some kind of release. “What do you plan on doing with this Kaeyus Infernus?” she asked, turning to Enigma. Enigma chuckled to himself. “I’m going to open the Gates of Hell,” he told her. “I’m going to achieve, in one fell swoop, what the Syndicate could not achieve in over forty years.” Deezee, who was still clutching the Tablet of Flame to his chest, cleared his throat. “How is opening a portal to another dimension going to help you take over the world?” Enigma cackled then, the sound deep and piercing. “I don’t intend to take over the world,” he said, “or to become a god. I simply intend to destroy the world, and everybody on it.” “Why the fuck would you want to do that?” Blaze asked, unable to comprehend. “I mean just listen to yourself. It’s insane.” Her aura was racing through her now, preparing for the fight ahead. “Insane?” Enigma laughed, then his expression turned deadly serious. He moved and stood beside Anthrax, breathing heavily. “Look at us, Blaze. Just look at us… Anthrax here is an angry dead man resurrected in a lab, and I’m a dark aspect of your own Axel’s personality, given license to roam the earth in my own body. Neither of us are driven by the same motivations as normal people like you.” “I hate to correct you, but I’m a genetic experiment myself,” Blaze told him. “My entire family was murdered when I was just an infant, and the Syndicate turned me into a homo superior weapon, creating an army of clones from my DNA. And

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thanks to the genetic reprogramming, I now have a lifespan of three-hundred-and-fifty years. So don’t tell me that just because you’re different, you have an excuse.” Enigma balked. “I’m well aware of your history, Blaze. I do have Axel’s knowledge stored up here, you know,” he tapped the side of his head with a finger. “My point is, you still have an identity, no matter what the Syndicate may have done to you in the past… you are still who you are, born on Isla del Coco in the Galapogos islands. Nobody can take that away from you. We, on the other hand,” he gestured to himself and Anthrax, “are both shadows. We do not officially exist in the world, nor have a place where we could ever fit in.” “That’s still no reason to want to destroy the world,” Blaze insisted. “Enough talk!” Enigma snorted. “I don’t have to justify myself to you.” He turned his gaze to Deezee. “Give me the Tablet of Flame now, and I’ll let you walk out of here alive. Refuse, and you know the alternative.” Axel flexed his muscles and clenched his fists. “Not gonna happen. Not in a million years.” Enigma sneered, then nodded. “I expected as much,” he said. “So be it. You leave me with little choice but to kill you all.”

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8 Boss Fight

Enigma let out a furious battle cry, then charged towards Axel with lightning speed, thirsty for blood. He clenched the fingers of his right hand into a fist, then dropped it down low, crouching to his knees, before slamming the fist upward across Axel’s jaw in one powerful motion. “Baaare Knuckle!” he roared. Teeth snapped in Axel’s mouth, and he stumbled back, tasting blood. God, that was a hard punch, and so fast! Axel barely had time to register that Enigma had moved, let alone attacked him… the evil doppelganger had obviously learned a lot since their last fight – had no doubt been practising his skills relentlessly, intent on exacting a swift revenge… The uppercut left a ghostly, luminescent glow of flame behind Enigma’s body, which continued to residuate around him as he drove forward, sending another punch smashing into Axel’s nose. Axel’s feet slipped and he collapsed to the floor, landing heavily on his butt. Enigma snorted, and grabbed Axel by the tee shirt, hauling him roughly back to his feet, not giving him any chance to recover. “I’ve waited a long time for this,” he hissed, his teeth clenched, his brow furrowed. Blaze watched, swallowed dryly, tasting sand. She licked her lips, though her parched tongue could offer no moisture to her cracked and drying mouth. Her breathing was ragged and uneven, and her aura was filling her entire being now, with the urge to release almost reaching bursting point. She kept it in, refusing to unleash it – choosing instead to let it build as much as possible. The feeling was strong, more intense than usual, reaching a level that hadn’t been experienced for a long time – so powerful, that the last time she’d expelled this type of energy she had effectively disappeared, becoming a bolt of pure energy that was able to destroy Molecule and Particle in mere seconds. She welcomed this exponential build-up of her homo superior power, and for a moment, the other people in the chamber around her seemed to be moving in slow motion. She watched, fascinated, as Enigma reared back his fist, preparing to strike Axel again – becoming slower, almost at a standstill now. She closed her eyes, beginning to struggle now with keeping this raging power under conscious control. When she opened her eyes again, she saw that her arms were dancing with blue fire, and she felt as if she were floating across the room, lucid, like she were having a dream. I must protect Axel… Enigma must be stopped… Beside her, Adam Hunter gasped with surprise, as her entire body burst into blue flame, glowing with an unnaturally bright light, beginning to hover and spin, sparking forks of electricity… then went shooting across the room toward Enigma with incredible speed, like a bolt of lightning. The entire transformation, incredibly, took less than a couple of seconds.

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Enigma sensed the light with his peripheral vision, and turned. He dropped Axel to the ground, his reaction time impossibly fast, able to see Blaze coming in that split second – and he jumped safely to one side, easily avoiding her attack. As he landed, he rolled and jumped back to his feet with the graceful elegance of a lion. The bright light dimmed, and Blaze found herself on her feet, facing the opposite wall. She gritted her teeth and channelled her energy into a fireball. Then she turned, her eyes searching out Enigma… But he was upon her in an instant, sending a veritable wall of yellow, red and orange flame roaring across her body, engulfing her senses, completely overpowering her aura with a dark, ferociously vicious dragon-wing attack. Stunned, and overwhelmed by the speed, purity and unexpected force of Enigma’s power, Blaze could do nothing but close her eyes and cry out as she collapsed to the floor, instantly defeated. “Impudent slut!” Enigma laughed. He spat across her face as she lay there, groaning in agony from the severe first-degree burns he’d just inflicted on her. “You grossly underestimate my power,” he said, relishing the moment of triumph, delivering a violent kick to her ribs. Something cracked. Blaze whimpered. “In the three years since our last encounter,” Enigma hissed, “my powers have far outgrown yours, Blaze. You are nothing compared to me now…” Anthrax was laughing heartily from where he stood nearby, enjoying the show. Sweat beaded on Adam’s forehead. Less than ten seconds had elapsed since the fight began. Axel was down, and now Blaze, with her homo superior powers – arguably the most powerful person on their team with the superhuman abilities she possessed – was lying defeated at Enigma’s boots after just one scalding attack. Adam braced himself, hesitating, trying to decide what to do next. Enigma delivered another kick to Blaze’s ribs, and grinned to himself as she squealed like a stark pig, spluttering blood from her mouth. After another moment, she lost consciousness… Axel got to his feet behind Enigma then, seething, preparing to attack… Adam roared, and charged toward Anthrax, focusing his anger, determined to teach this freak of nature… his dead brother… a personal lesson. His emotions concerning this Anthrax character were mixed; he was confused right now, almost dazed… but he decided he had no choice but to fight him and hope for the best. The main objective here was to stop the Tablet of Flame falling into the wrong hands. He would have to deal with the emotional consequences of his actions later. Anthrax saw Adam running at him, and he smiled. He pulled a Desert Eagle pistol from somewhere on his robe, and lifted it toward Adam, flaring his nostrils… “Fuck you, brother,” he whispered. Adam’s eyes widened. He raised his hands to cover his face. “No, Skate!” Blam! Blam! Blam! Anthrax pulled the trigger three times. The shots caught Adam squarely in the gut, blowing clean through, spraying blood. The force of the triple-impact sent him reeling to the ground. “Adam!” Deezee shouted. “Noooooo!” He dropped the artifact to the ground and took a few running steps toward his friend’s downed body, but was forced to duck and roll as Anthrax aimed the weapon toward him and fired off another four rounds. The shots went wild and Deezee came up in a fighting stance, ready for action. He swooped low and executed a roundhouse kick, knocking Anthrax down…

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Meanwhile, Enigma had sensed that Axel was behind him, and delivered a strong backhander to the man’s face. Axel cursed, but recovered quickly from the blow and sent a flurry of jabs and punches into Enigma’s lower back. “You will never defeat me,” Enigma puffed, then sent his right elbow cracking back into Axel’s face, stunning him. He reached back then, used both arms to grab Axel, and pulled the man’s entire body forward, up and over his head, slamming him down to the stone floor in front of him with considerable force. Axel landed heavily in a cloud of dust, hitting his head on the stonework, the impact knocking him senseless. “Too easy…” Enigma licked his lips, chuckling to himself, and lifted his head to survey the room. Axel, Blaze, and Adam were all down now, while Anthrax and Deezee were still locked in combat, fairly evenly matched by the looks of things… “Aaaaaagh!” Deezee sent a flying kick into Anthrax’s chest. Anthrax cursed, stumbling back, and retaliated with a vertical kickback toward Deezee’s face. Deezee countered, dodging to the right, then socked Anthrax across the jaw with a hard punch that almost knocked the young man’s head clean off his shoulders. “Death fist!” Deezee roared. Anthrax stumbled. Enigma grunted impatiently, growing bored, and leapt to Anthrax’s rescue, piling into Deezee with the force of a fast-moving freight train, launching into the foolish MI7 agent with an unblockable barrage of flaming punches. Deezee screamed, and fell back, slumping unconsciously against the east wall. “Thanks,” Anthrax grunted. It was over. The chamber was silent once more. Enigma took a deep breath, nodding to himself satisfactorily, dusting his hands together. He wasn’t even short of breath. Anthrax winced from cramping in his leg, but was otherwise fine. He bent to pick up his Desert Eagle, which had been dropped during the fight with Deezee. “I’ll finish them off now,” he said, and raised it toward Deezee’s head. “No,” Enigma told him. “Put the gun away. I have something special planned for them…” He walked across to where the Tablet of Flame lay, reached down and picked it up. He smiled, then walked across to the scaffolding poles that supported the roof at one end of the chamber. Anthrax grinned, and came to join him. “Grab a sledgehammer,” Enigma instructed. “We’ll take out this scaffolding, and let the roof collapse in on them. If they aren’t crushed by the avalanche, they’ll either die of suffocation, heatstroke or dehydration. Out here, there’s little chance they’ll ever be found.” Anthrax laughed. “A slow and painful death. Nice touch.” “I thought so,” Enigma said. He took one of the sledgehammers. “This is a tomb, after all. It’s only fitting we give it some permanent residents…”

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9 A Great Loss

Two hours later

“Axel! Axel, for God’s sake man, wake up!” Light and sound blurred. Axel Stone blinked his eyes open, stretched. His head hurt. He sat up awkwardly, rubbing his eyes, then winced with sudden pain. He had a tender bruise under one eye – when he prodded it, experimentally, with one finger, he found it hurt deeply – and a swollen lower lip. Some of his front teeth were smashed; he was going to need some serious dental work to set things straight again. It hurt like a bitch – but otherwise, he was okay. He groaned, and his eyes focused on Deezee, who was standing over him, a single rivulet of blood running down his forehead. He was urging him to get up, a sound of desperation in his voice. Axel frowned, and he suddenly remembered how he’d got here. There had been a fight with Enigma… they’d lost. The memories began to jostle in his head uncomfortably. “Deezee, what’s going on?” he murmured. “We need to get Adam to a hospital. He’s dying.” That got through to Axel. He stood up, getting his bearings. They were at the north end of the chamber, not far from the rubble-strewn corridor. Adam and Blaze were lying on the ground, still unconscious – Blaze flat on her back, and Adam slumped on his right side. At the opposite side of the chamber, Axel could see the scaffolding had been knocked down – probably Enigma’s handiwork – and now sand was slithering through freshly formed cracks in the ceiling. It wouldn’t be long before the condemned tomb collapsed in on itself. “There isn’t much time,” Deezee said. Axel nodded, and bent to examine Adam’s injuries a little closer. “What happened?” he asked, blinking. He hoped to God it wasn’t as bad as it looked from first glance. “Three shots,” Deezee told him, “from a Desert Eagle, .50 Action Express.” Immediately Axel could tell that it wasn’t good. Adam would almost certainly die. The three entry wounds on his gut indicated that the man’s stomach had been punctured; the bullets had perforated straight through the other side, exit wounds on his back beveling out at an angle that suggested direct passage through his spinal cord. Vertebrae were cracked and blown apart. There was a lot of blood. “Jesus Christ,” Axel muttered, shaking his head. “Can we chance moving him?” “Ideally, we shouldn’t move him at all,” Deezee said, “but I don’t think we have much choice. This tomb is going to cave in at any moment. We have to evac, ASAP.”

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Axel nodded, his eyes darting. “Okay.” He knelt down and gave Blaze a tap on the shoulder. “Blaze, quickly, wake up. Come on, we have to go…” She stirred, moaning slightly, but didn’t move. She had some pretty harshlooking burns across her entire body, and her clothing was singed and blackened. Axel took her by the shoulders and shook her vigorously, this time rousing her more successfully. “W…What’s happening?” she frowned. She coughed violently, the sound dry and hoarse, sand and dust covering her face. Her eyes widened. “Come on,” Axel said to her. “We have to get out of here. Adam is seriously injured… we need your help to move him…” Blaze got to her feet, cursing to herself. She licked her lips. “Okay… Okay… I’m with you.” Deezee started to grab Adam by his clothing, taking the material around the man’s neck to support his head. “We have to brace his head while we move him,” he said, gulping back his emotion, trying to remain objective. “Axel, I need you to get both arms pulled over the shoulders. Blaze, get his feet.” They obeyed, and together they started pulling Adam’s body in a straight line toward the exit. The ground beneath them was starting to buckle dangerously. “Keep his neck and torso as straight as possible, and pull him in a straight line,” Deezee instructed. “Don’t go sideways! Don’t allow him to twist…” Tears ran down Blaze’s cheeks as they pulled their unconscious friend up the rubble-strewn corridor, agonisingly slowly. It seemed to take an eternity to cover the short distance to the tomb’s main entryway, and the place was rumbling and toppling around them now, beginning to lose structural integrity. “Don’t stop!” Axel roared. They pulled Adam through the doorway into the dazzling sunshine, and then the corridor disintegrated; collapsing in on itself, sandstone blocks crashing down, rocks splintering, dust blowing, rubble blasting outward. Blaze closed her eyes and braced herself, as a huge cloud of dust plumed out, surrounded them, and then was gone. They were clear of the tomb’s entrance with less than a second to spare. Relieved, they carefully laid Adam down onto the sand at the top of the steps and stood there for a moment, catching their breath. “That was a close call,” Deezee muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. Adam groaned, regaining consciousness. He cried out in agony. “Water,” he blurted. Axel reached for the water canteen he had stowed on his belt, but realised he’d taken it off and left it inside the tomb. “He’s thirsty. Anyone got some water for the guy?” he asked. Deezee had an unopened bottle of water. “I took the liberty of picking this up before we left,” he said. “I figured we’d need it.” He unscrewed the cap and put the bottle to Adam’s lips. Adam’s tongue went out to meet the warm liquid, and he lapped at it weakly. When he was done, he croaked, “You guys should get out of here. I’m done for…” “No…” Blaze said. “We’re not going to leave you, Adam. We’re gonna get you to a hospital…” Adam coughed. Blood trickled from his mouth, from his nose. “It’s too late,” he said. “I’ll never make it. It’s too far…” Axel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “No! Adam, we’ve come too far for you to give up now. We’ll find a way, we’ll get the chopper to come in and lift you out..”

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Deezee nodded. “That should be possible, in an emergency…” Adam closed his eyes briefly, frowned, and opened them again. “No. The damage is too severe. I can feel it. I’m dying.” “Don’t talk like that,” Blaze said through tears. “You’re not going to die!” Axel nodded. Tears swelled up in his eyes. Although he wanted to believe what Blaze was saying, something in the back of his mind knew that Adam was right. His best friend was gravely wounded now, and there was nothing that any doctor in the world could do to save him. “Did we do it?” Adam asked then. He smiled. “Did we stop Enigma? Did we make a difference?” Axel swallowed, and shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not, Adam. Enigma got away, and he took the Tablet of Flame with him.” “You guys should go. Promise me you’ll stop him…” Adam said. Blaze wiped the tears from her eyes. “Adam! Please, don’t – “ “Promise me!” Axel nodded. “I promise, Adam. We’ll stop that son of a bitch, that motherfucker! We’ll end this. You have my word…” Adam swallowed blood, squealed through pain, then grinned. “It’s been… fun…” Then his expression turned serious. He seemed to stare at something distantly. “Oh, my…” he breathed. With those words, his head relaxed, his final breath escaping. Silently, Adam Hunter passed away, the desert wind blowing sand across his face, his eyes continuing to stare into the distance. “Noooooo!” Blaze cried. She sobbed, falling to her knees, unable to control the feeling of despair that washed over her. “Adaaaaaaam! Don’t go! Please, don’t go!” Tears flowed down Axel’s cheek then, and he looked away, the reality of Adam’s death hitting him hard, and suddenly. He felt like a hurt child. The tears on his face were hot, and blurred his vision. Adam… my friend… Deezee let out a sigh, trying to maintain composure, without much luck. Finally, tears began to scorch his face. This was hard to accept, but he’d seen it coming ever since Anthrax had pulled that trigger hours earlier. The loss of ten men back there had been bad enough to deal with, but now Adam – his friend since childhood – had been taken from him. Axel moved toward Blaze, and she leapt into his arms, crying into his chest. “Oh, Axel, why did he have to die?” she said. Axel didn’t have an answer for her. He closed his eyes, focusing on the embrace, wishing he could go back in time and stop this from happening, but he knew it was impossible. He turned his head to look at Deezee. Deezee stared back, his expression grim, lost in thought. From this moment on, Axel knew, everything had changed.

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10

FOUR DAYS LATER

Detroit, Michigan August 9th

As they pulled off the main road towards the red-brick façade of Wendell’s Funeral Parlor, Axel couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of anxiety, almost dread. This wasn’t going to be easy, not for anyone involved… but Axel somehow felt responsible for the death of Adam Hunter – like he had originally set into motion the events that had led up to this point. He felt that he didn’t deserve to be coming here today. It was irrational to blame himself, he knew, but just the same, the feeling nagged at him, was driving him crazy. A neon sign in the front window said ‘House of Rest’. Blank tombstones stood unchristened and uncarved in the window beneath the sign. Axel pulled up in the parking lot. “Are you feeling okay?” Blaze asked him from the passenger seat. He nodded. “As good as can be expected, I guess.” She smiled sympathetically. “Come on.” They got out of the car and walked in. The dimly lit corridor smelled of flowers and of furniture polish, with just the slightest tang of formaldehyde and rot beneath the surface. At the far end was the Chapel of Rest. Axel realised that he was holding Blaze’s hand, squeezing it compulsively, over and over. It felt reassuring to him. “Deezee and Murphy are supposed to meet us here today, right?” Blaze asked as they walked, trying to keep Axel’s mind focused. He nodded, and seemed to grunt vaguely, but he didn’t say anything. Blaze wondered if he’d even heard what she said. Adam’s name was on a sheet of paper beside the door at the far end of the corridor. They walked into the Chapel of Rest. Axel knew most of the people in the room: Adam’s mother, some of his workmates from the FBI, some LAPD guys, several of his friends. They all recognised him. He could see it in their faces. There were no smiles, though, no hellos. At the end of the room was a small dais, and, on it, a cream-coloured casket with several displays of flowers arranged about it: scarlets and yellows and whites and deep, bloody purples. Axel took a step forward. He could see Adam’s body from where they were standing. He did not want to walk forward; he did not dare to walk away. A man in a dark suit – Axel guessed he worked at the funeral home – said, “Sir? Would you and your wife like to sign the condolence and remembrance book?” and pointed them to a leather-bound book, open on a small lectern.

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Axel watched Blaze sign:

To our greatest friend, we will always love you. You will never be forgotten. Blaze xxxx Then he signed, slowly, putting off walking toward the end of the room, where the other people were, and the casket, and the thing in the cream casket that was no longer Adam…

You will be missed. Your buddy, Axel As he finished writing, Axel turned and saw Adam’s mother approach them slowly, looking solemn, holding onto her purse like it were the only thing she had left to hold onto. She wore a rimmed black hat decorated with a black rose, and her mascara had run from the many tears she had already shed this morning. For a woman who had recently battled ovarian cancer and won, she looked very well, despite her sadness. “Axel, Blaze,” she breathed. Her name was Dolores. She was seventy years of age, the oldest person in the room. Axel smiled weakly, averting her gaze. “Good morning, Ms. Hunter. It’s nice to see you again.” “I’m glad to see you could make it,” she said. “Are you kidding?” Blaze whispered, giving the older woman a big hug. “We couldn’t miss something like this! Adam meant so much to us…” Dolores took a step back and nodded. “I know. You were his best friends. He would have followed you anywhere.” Axel took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I really am…” Dolores shook her head. “Don’t apologise. You haven’t done anything wrong. My son knew the risks involved when he first took that job at the LAPD, twenty years ago. He also knew the risks when he joined the FBI, and Firestorm… If anything, Axel, you helped to make my son a better person. You managed to achieve so much together over the past two decades. I’m so proud of that. I’m proud of you. You’re the son I never had.” Axel blushed. “Thankyou, ma’am.” He walked away, leaving Blaze and Dolores reminiscing about Adam’s life. Still avoiding the casket, he walked toward the crowd of FBI officials, where Murphy and Deezee were waiting for him silently, all dressed in black. “What do we have?” Axel whispered, keeping his voice low. “Not a great deal, I’m afraid,” Deezee told him. “We’ve managed to track Enigma to the city of Los Angeles. But that’s where our leads on the street go cold…”

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“We believe that Enigma may already be using the Kaeyus Infernus device,” Murphy said. He looked like shit, like he hadn’t slept in days. Axel frowned. “What do you mean?” “Over the past few days, Los Angeles has been experiencing some rather freakish weather conditions,” Murphy explained, “and an electrical storm such as the state of California has never seen…” Deezee nodded. “MI7 satellites in space have been picking up some very strange readings… an anomaly… emanating from the city. I’m talking gravimetric distortions, on the quantum level…” Axel sighed. “I have no idea what that means.” Deezee swallowed dryly. “It means that Los Angeles has begun to shift… out of ‘phase’ with the rest of our world. Within a couple of weeks, it’ll be gone…” “Enigma…” Axel clenched his fists together, wanting nothing more than to pummel the evil man’s head into a pulp. He needed to pay, big time, for all the pain and suffering he’d caused. Murphy touched Axel on the shoulder. “Let us know when you and Blaze are ready to return to LA. But make it soon, we’re running out of time…” Axel nodded, then turned away. His gaze caught that of his wife across the room, who shared his concerned expression. Suddenly, a small woman walked in from the corridor, and hesitated. She was in her early thirties. Her hair was dark red, and her skirt and blouse and jacket were all funereal and elegant black. She wore dark lipstick. Axel recognised her – it was Jodie Kelly, one of Adam’s ex-girlfriends, a woman he had dated on and off for the past fifteen years or so. Jodie was holding a sprig of violets, wrapped at the base with silver foil. It was the kind of thing a child would make, thought Axel. She looked directly at him, and there was no recognition in her eyes. Then she walked across the room, to Adam’s casket. Axel followed her. Adam lay with his eyes closed, and his arms folded across his chest. His face was serene, and he wore a conservative blue suit of no label. It was Adam and it was not: his repose, Axel realised, was what was unnatural. Adam was always such a restless sleeper. Jodie placed her sprig of summer violets on Adam’s chest. Then she pursed her blackberry-coloured lips, worked her mouth for a moment and spat, hard, onto Adam’s dead face. The spit caught Adam on the cheek, and began to drip down toward his ear. Jodie was already walking toward the door. Axel hurried after her. “Jodie?” he said. This time she recognised him. He wondered if she were taking tranquilisers. Her voice was distant and detached. “Axel? What happened to you? Were you beaten up?” “Yes I was, actually. In Egypt,” said Axel. “What the hell was that all about?” She stopped in the dark corridor. “The violets? They were the flowers Adam always bought for me. I loved him, you know, deep down, despite our differences.” “Not the violets.” “Oh, that,” she said. She wiped a speck of something invisible from the corner of her mouth. “Well, I would have thought that was obvious.” “Not to me, Jodie.” “They didn’t tell you?” Her voice was calm, emotionless. “I’m pregnant with Adam’s baby. He promised he was going to quit the FBI, and get back together with me.”

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She turned away, walked out into the parking lot, and Axel watched her leave. He went back in to the funeral home. Someone had already wiped away the spit.

***

After lunch was the burial. Adam’s cream-coloured coffin was interred in the small non-denominational cemetery on the edge of town. Axel and Blaze rode to the cemetery in the Wendell’s hearse, with Adam’s mother. Dolores seemed to think that Adam’s death had been inevitable. “I told him this would happen,” she said. “Time and again, I told him. But they don’t listen to their mothers, do they?” She stopped, looked more closely at Axel’s face. “Have you been fighting?” “Yes,” he said. She sighed, raised her head so her chins quivered, and stared straight ahead of her. To Axel’s surprise Jodie Kelly was also at the funeral, standing toward the back. The short service ended, the casket was lowered into the cold ground. The people went away. Axel walked over to the grave. He took a photograph from his pocket. It showed a happy scene: himself and Adam laughing together, back when they wore LAPD uniforms, partners on the force. They were celebrating their victory over the Blue Swan organisation. “This is for you, buddy,” he said. Several shovels of earth had been emptied onto the casket, but the hole was far from full. He threw the photograph into the grave with Adam. “Goodnight, Adam.” Then he said “I’m sorry.” He turned away, and Blaze embraced him into her arms, giving him a much needed hug. “I love you, Axel,” she whispered to him. “I love you too, Blaze.” Their hotel was two miles away, and they made the decision to walk, to catch some fresh air and reflect on the day’s events. In the morning, they would leave for Los Angeles. One way or the other, it would all be over soon.

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11 Amber’s Fate

Blaze slept. In her dreams, she was in Downtown Los Angeles… Tina Stone’s apartment building to be precise… where Axel’s sister had been babysitting their eight-year-old son, Max, and their baby daughter, Jennifer. Now, Amber was dressed in her nightgown, running down the hall, her eyes bruised with sleeplessness, her face glossy with sweat. And fear – had Amber ever shown so much fear on her face? She was usually such a brave woman… But here Amber was… peering around a corner, seeing one of the other residents pinning something to a communal bulletin board down one wing of the hall, a janitor with a floor polisher working the other. She darted past the cross-hall and down toward the stairway, found the door to the stairs slightly ajar and up she went, two flights, to the metal fire door with its broken lock, and through it to the roof. In a moment she was out and running barefoot across the tar roof. She stepped up on the aluminium-trimmed rim of the roof and looked down. It was many stories to the glazed sunroof of the main lobby atrium on the ground floor. A cool breeze fluttered her gown and altered the tracks of the tears streaming down her cheeks. She gazed at the matrix of city lights… “I am in control now,” came a disembodied voice. “You have no choice but to do as I command, as everyone on this world soon will…” It was the voice of Enigma. Then Amber saw something else. She saw flames leaping up over the city lights. She saw the red flames engulfing the city. She saw the skies black with flying demons and the screams of innocents; the screams of those who had known, had been absolutely sure, that such things could never happen… She rubbed her wrist anxiously. She’d been chosen by Enigma, and now there was no escape… “The children are mine…” Enigma cackled. She stepped off the roof, involuntarily. And she fell and she fell… and she hardly felt the impact as she crashed through the glass of the atrium sun roof, smashed down, slashed by broken glass, into the room’s shallow water fountain. Water, swirled red with her blood, gushed up as if in protest. Her body bobbed, face up, oozing blood. Wounds fletched with broken glass like feathers from some inhuman being. Her eyes staring, dilated, looking into the infinitely deep well of death. Now, she felt nothing. She was simply falling through Space to… Oh, no…

***

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“Noooooo!” Blaze sat bolt upright in the bed, screaming at the morning light that streamed through the hotel room window. She was sweating. Her heart was racing in her chest. Just a dream… She put her face in her palms, and sobbed silently for a moment. The nightmare was like a living thing in the room with her – she could almost feel it’s hot breath on her neck. “What is it?” Axel frowned, stirring in the bed next to her. “Just a dream…” she muttered. She got unsteadily up, walked to the bathroom, shook the vision off. It wasn’t as if the dream had really happened. Had it? The apartment building. Amber! Oh, Jesus, don’t let it be…

***

New Bradbury Tower (Apartment Building) Downtown Los Angeles August 10th

Blaze felt the dread rising in her like hot bile as she walked with Axel through the main lobby, past the reception desks, toward the shallow water fountain. Beside the fountain a group of LAPD cops milled, uniforms mostly. They stood around two male nurses kneeling by a body. Detective Bellamy was there, his shoulder and arm bandaged, watching their arrival. Bellamy was a forty-year veteran of the force, who hadn’t always seen eye to eye with Axel and Blaze over the years. They moved past him, not wanting to talk. “Axel…” Bellamy said. “You don’t need to see this…” Axel ignored him, thinking, in a distant sort of way, that really it was Bellamy who shouldn’t be there. He should be convalescing, but it was like him to push the envelope. They walked over to the body. It seemed to take a strangely long time to get there. The coroner was hunkered by the covered shape. He was an older Chinese guy in a white coat, the pens clipped in his pocket leaking ink stains: a doctor, name of Zhem. He glanced up at them, hesitated, then lifted the tarp. “No, no, no. No. No…” Axel heard himself say. “No, Amber…” He knelt by the body and his tears fell on his sister’s pale, bruised face. His only sister, his Amber, in a bloodied nightgown. “Why, God?!” he cried out. Everyone he loved was being taken from him, one by one. Blaze wiped tears from her eyes. The dream had been with her all morning and she’d known, even before hearing about a suicide at the New Bradbury Tower, that the dream had been real – had been about the real Tina Stone. She felt she might crumble, looking at Amber. Death was so absolute, so without mitigation. And what had happened to their children? Where were Max and Jennifer? Were they safe? Were they allright?

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Blaze felt Bellamy standing at her elbow. She had to get control of her voice, swallowing a few times before she could manage. “She… fell from the roof?” Bellamy hesitated. Then he admitted, “She jumped.” “Jumped?” Axel blurted. “No. Amber wouldn’t do that. Not with her beliefs. No.” “I know it’s hard to accept,” Bellamy said gently. “We think she was sick…” “Amber wouldn’t kill herself,” Blaze insisted. The she asked the burning question: “What happened to the children?” Bellamy frowned. “The children?” “Amber was babysitting for us. Our two kids, Max and Jennifer…” Bellamy shook his head. “There was no sign of any children in the apartment. I’m sorry. Are you sure?” Axel gritted his teeth. “It’s Enigma,” he hissed. “He’s done this… and now he’s kidnapped our babies. Son of a bitch!” He looked again at Amber’s face, and then signaled the coroner to cover it again. He felt angry, exhausted… First Zan, then Adam, now Amber… Hang on, he thought to himself. Don’t fall apart now. Max and Jennifer need you… “I’m telling you, she jumped,” Bellamy said. “There was surveillance…” “Surveillance?” Axel repeated. “A security camera? Then… I want to see that tape.” Bellamy sighed. “You sure you want to put yourself through that?” “Just arrange it. Please. Do that for me.” “All right. We can do that right away. Security’s on the first floor, behind the foyer.” Axel turned away and forced himself to leave his sister’s body behind. He followed Blaze and Bellamy to the stairwell. But he could never abandon his sister. Alive or dead.

***

In the Security Suite, Blaze sat in a swivel chair staring at a video monitor. Wishing she were heavily medicated. She watched as the black-and-white tape from the security cam showed Axel’s sister stepping up onto the rim of the roof. Looking around… Gazing out into the night, shaking her head. Glancing over her shoulder. Stepping off the edge – quite deliberately. Pitching forward. Tumbling. Gone. The breath Blaze had been holding forced itself out as she blurted, “Oh!” A shudder went through her as a hand, intended to be comforting, settled on Blaze’s shoulder. Bellamy said, “You guys should take it easy. Take a few days off. Hell, a few weeks. You’ve been through a lot these past few days…” Blaze shook her head and brushed the hand off. Then she turned – and saw that Bellamy was on the other side of the room with Axel and two security guards. He’d spoken from over there. So whose hand had been on her shoulder?

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12

Club Vehelits Little Tokyo, Los Angeles 10:30pm

Blaze slammed the taxi’s door and hurried after Axel. The rain had eased to a drizzle by the time they got to the entrance of Club Vehelits – a criminal nightspot previously owned and operated by the Syndicate – and the bad weather the city had been getting lately had not deterred a large crowd of revellers lining up to party the night away. “Remind me again why we came here…” Blaze said. “I’m still not sure myself,” Axel told her. “8-Ball said it was urgent, and that we should come immediately. So here we are.” “I hope he’s not wasting our time.” Axel was already on his way through the crowd outside the club. Blaze trailed after him. Some very elegant people here, she noted. She heard a lady in a sparkly black gown say, in a sort of stage whisper, “I understand there’s a kind of backroom club here that almost no-one can get into.” “You wouldn’t want to go there, from what I’ve heard,” her handsome, tuxedoed companion said. Axel and Blaze threaded through the crowd and into the bar, where the sounds of a mariachi band pervaded the air like the flavour of pineapple. Blaze suddenly wanted a piña colada. But there wasn’t time for that – Axel was headed for the back, through a side door. Blaze hurriedly followed, caught up with Axel around the corner from the bathrooms, where a sizeable bouncer sat at a small table, looking uncomfortable on a small folded metal chair. Despite his red blazer and tie – the jacket stretching tight for his massive chest – the bouncer, named Bongo, had the look of a thug, but one who knew more than most thugs do. He seemed to be blocking access to whatever was beyond the red velvet curtain behind him. The big man sized up Axel and Blaze for one expressionless moment, then stepped aside without hesitation, gesturing for them to pass. They pushed through a metal door, stepped out onto the landing over a cavernous room – a room far, far bigger than the nightclub upstairs. Impossible to tell, for sure, how far it was down to the floor. It was a vast chamber with many lights and other sorts of glows in it, yet dark for all of that. The farther wall wasn’t visible at all – the light-flecked dimness might’ve gone on forever. The lights only dented the darkness, didn’t illuminate much past their small circles. Somewhere above them, a large, black vibrating mass made an angry, alien sound in the darkness. Wet, glistening, shadowed, as if it were waiting for its moment to strike.

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Vehelits, Axel thought, and a chill went through him. Firestorm had encountered that thing once before, during the Syndicate Wars, and it hadn’t exactly been a pleasant confrontation. Right now, Axel hoped that the monstrous thing just kept to itself. Exactly how it had managed to end up here, in this LA nightclub, was anyone’s guess, but Axel wasn’t about to start asking. Nothing good could come of it, he was sure. Thudding dance music played from somewhere within the walls. With Blaze in tow, he started down the stone stairway, cutting through level after level of tables and bars. At one table was a small group of businessmen in suits. At another table, two girls in their early twenties looked up at Axel – and their eyes sparkled as they watched him pass. He heard their flirtatious whispers, their giggles – and he felt a bit like they were undressing him with their eyes. Still they descended. At one of the many bars set off to one side of the stairway, a skinny young man spotted Axel and Blaze moving down the stairs – and beat a hasty, nervous retreat to the exit, ducking to go out the door. At last they reached the level they were looking for, and set off down a corridor cut into the onyx wall. At the far end of the corridor, they found two imposing doors made from some kind of alloy. They waited, knowing that 8-Ball was aware of them out here. Seconds ticked past. A wave of dizziness swept over Axel as they stood there, until at last he gathered his strength and shouted, “8-Ball! Come on, do we have to huff and puff here?” Two long moments, as if the doors themselves were considering the matter, and then they groaned open. A tall man entirely covered with tattoos emerged, and gave them a wide berth, allowing them to pass. Axel and Blaze stepped into 8-Ball’s office, a big room busy with masks, exotic plants, and a variety of phones and computers. 8-Ball sat at a table on which was a brass orrery, a scientific sculpture of the sort that displayed the solar system, except that this sculpture was frozen, unmoving at present. Seated at a table, working over the orrery, was 8-Ball. He was a savvy businessman in his late twenties, and the owner of this club. “Axel!” he said, not bothering to look up from his tinkering as they entered. “Long time no see, baby! What’s happening, man?” Axel took a deep breath, and nodded. “You said it was urgent…” 8-Ball looked up at them. He was caucasian, medium-built, his face covered with fighting scars. “Yes, yes. This must be your wife. Very attractive, I must say. Nice to meet you, Blaze.” He shook her hand, giving it a little kiss. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about you, so don’t worry… My name is 8-Ball. I went to school with Tina Stone, Axel’s sister. “ Then he frowned. “I was so sorry to hear about her death, by the way, and the disappearance of your kids…” Blaze raised her eyebrows. “Jesus, news does travel fast…” 8-Ball sighed and shrugged, smiling faintly, “It’s become my business to know what goes on in this city. Who lives, who dies. Sorry if that sounds a little insensitive…” Axel looked at him with mild irritation, growing impatient. “My sister is dead, 8-Ball, our children have been kidnapped, and if you haven’t got a good reason for dragging us down into this shit-hole, then I swear to God man, I’m gonna…” “I’ll get straight to the point,” 8-Ball said, interrupting him. “Yesterday, I… found… something… which may be of some interest to you guys…” He walked to a metal safe on the other side of the room and entered a combination. The safe clicked

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and swung open. 8-Ball reached inside and pulled out a large, dark-coloured object that glistened in the light from an overhead bulb. The object was covered with Egyptian hieroglyphics, a strange-looking thing that was assembled of nine smaller objects pieced together, like ancient lego. The result was something that looked like a bizarre cross between a Xerox machine and a samurai’s armoured chestplate. “Is that what I think it is?” Blaze asked. 8-Ball brought the object closer, twirling it in his hands. “The Kaeyus Infernus…” he said. “In all its glory.” Axel’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Where the hell did you get that? That thing is Enigma’s pet project… if you have it, why hasn’t he killed you for it already? Are you working for him?” 8-Ball shook his head. “To cut a long story short, Axel, Enigma is gone.” He licked his lips. “He’s no longer in LA, or anywhere else, for that matter. He left this thing behind, so all I had to do was just pick it up. Simple enough.” Blaze frowned. “What do you mean, he’s gone?” 8-Ball licked his lips. “I mean vanished. Poof. Disappeared into thin air. Anthrax went with him. Apparently, they took your kids with them, too. I have witnesses who will swear to it. A small boy and a baby, right? Wherever they went, they used this thing to get there.” “Hell,” Axel said thoughtfully. “They’re in Hell…” 8-Ball managed a thin smile at that. “So I’ve heard. I think Enigma is responsible for all this bad weather we’ve been getting. Somehow, he’s able to influence things in our world from the other side… like a poltergeist or a demon or something…” “That’s just spooky,” Blaze said. Axel nodded. “Spooky, but true. I believe he’s responsible for the death of Tina. He pushed her off that roof, somehow forced her to jump, I know it. He’s got our kids in Hell with him, too. He’s setting a trap for us…” “A trap we may have no choice but to walk into,” Blaze sighed, “if we ever want to see Max and Jennifer alive again.” 8-Ball held out the ancient device with both arms. “I figured you’d be needing this. Go on, take it.” Axel nodded, taking the Kaeyus Infernus carefully from 8-Ball’s outstretched arms. He felt a strange buzzing sensation come over him as he did so. “We have to follow Enigma through. We just need to figure out how to use this thing…” Blaze swallowed dryly, blinking, sensing great power emanating from the device. “I think I can get it to work,” she said. She reached out with feelers from her aura, testing the air around the device, felt it respond. She nodded. “Yes, I’m pretty sure I can do it…” “Be careful, hon,” Axel told her. “The ancient Egyptians couldn’t handle the power of this thing five thousand years ago. There’s no telling what we could unleash…” 8-Ball clenched his jaw. Surprisingly, he felt more scared in this moment than he had been in thinking about it earlier. He’d thought that was as scared as anyone could get. Apparently there weren’t any limits. He cleared his throat. Made sure his voice didn’t tremble as he said, “Guys, I’m gonna need you to step outside the club if you’re gonna do this…” Axel frowned, and looked at Blaze. “We’ll get a hotel room. Somewhere private.”

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She let out a slow breath, then nodded, and followed him to the door. “Good luck,” 8-Ball called. Axel nodded, then looked down at the Kaeyus Infernus in his arms. “Thanks.” He had a feeling they were going to need it.

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13 Behind the World

The hotel room was cheap and standard: a TV and stereo against the wall, potted plants; prints of paintings by Turner and Whistler. There was a pink ottoman on the light blue carpet; a cabinet of books, some of them from a classics book club, some bestsellers, a Bible, a Webster’s dictionary. “Ready when you are, Blaze,” Axel said, taking a deep breath. He wasn’t really sure what to expect here, but he knew that whatever happened, it wasn’t going to be pleasant. “Let’s do this,” she said. Blaze reached for his hand, held it tight, and then stared at the Kaeyus Infernus, set down peacefully on the ottoman as it was. She reached out with her aura, sensing, probing; communicating with the energy of the device, and there was a connection. The doorway between planes… She summoned that vibration, found it, and drew it through her, top to bottom, from head to feet, all the time gazing at the device… The lightbulbs in the room pulsated and flickered, their light replaced by another, a malevolent glow, a fulsome glare coloured the deep amber of a forest fire. The room rippled and shifted, and then it was done… “Holy shit,” Axel said. He got up and looked around. The room was the same – and yet very different. The TV was there, turned on, showing jumping static. The paintings on the walls showed images of death and ruin. The plants were dead-white, and restlessly stretching, snuffling… The ottoman was what would happen if you could put a human being in a trash compactor and have something alive afterward. It wept and tried to creep away. The sofa was made of human skin… including living faces. The Kaeyus Infernus was gone now, replaced by orbs, floating in the air, blinking at them curiously. It wasn’t in this place in the same way they were. “The world behind the world,” Blaze muttered. She felt a blast of hot air then, and turned a bit more to see that one wall had been mostly torn away, as if a bombshell had hit it. From beyond the gap came a sickly sepia glow… “What’s over there?” she asked. Axel walked to the ragged hole in the wall, hearing, as he approached it, a sound like a million tiny jaws all chewing at once… and grimaced, realising that the carpet had changed too, and he could feel tongues licking at the bottoms of his shoes, and the tentative scrape at the edges of teeth. He stepped quickly through the gap in the wall – and paused in a mound of reeking rubble to gaze out at this particular part of Hell: It was Hell Los Angeles. It was Los Angeles, but one that was worse than its worst; many of the familiar buildings were afire, filling the sky with ash. It was neither day nor night out there – if you preferred daytime it would always seem like night; if you preferred cool evening it was a glare of daytime.

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Blaze came and stood by Axel at the hole in the wall. “What is this place?” she whispered, looking out over the burning cityscape. He had no answer for her. All he knew was that this was some kind of parallel dimension, a place of perpetual agony and misery. Human forms and otherwise squirmed and shuffled indistinctly beyond the field of rubble. That vast gnawing sound made him picture a cloud of disembodied human mouths coming the way clouds of locusts did, chewing everything endlessly as they came – it throbbed and receded and returned again, seeming a dull counterpoint to the ragged chorus of screams and pleading that was as common to Hell as crickets chirping in a damp earthly woods. Just what you’d expect in Hell, those cries, but there were so many that they merged into a kind of grim chaotic composition, reminding Axel of Penderecki’s Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima. He grimaced. “Let’s move,” he said, though he had no idea which direction to head in. Enigma could be virtually anywhere in this place. Terrified, Blaze nodded. Her mind was filled with concern over the safety and wellbeing of their children, that parental love, which gave her all the courage she needed to proceed through this dark, nasty place of death and decay. Max, Jennifer, we’re coming for you… They set off, Axel taking point, trotting between moraines of rubble. To one side was a brick building, and Axel made the mistake of glancing at it, his attention snagged by a twitchy movement between the bricks, a continuous shrugging of the bricks themselves: Every one was held in place by a mortar of human souls, a red and bone-flecked mortar of crushed bits of living bodies; the bricks grinding them, grinding the faces, the fingers, the gibbering begging bleeding souls, forever and ever, people compressed somehow alive into inch-wide spaces, the bricks moving in place, grinding like ruminating teeth, the whole building shifting like the working of closed jaws – Axel looked hastily away, making himself ignore the hoarse and hopeless pleading of those trapped in the jostling stones. They came to a low, eroded wall, vaulted it, slid down a charred embankment, and stopped again to get oriented on an elevated fragment of abandoned freeway. An indeterminate stretch of the freeway was somewhat intact, like a giant shelf for the display of hundreds and hundreds of fatal wrecks, perpetually just-happened, still smoking. Straining against the hot winds, Axel peered through the roiling ash at the decaying corpse of the cityscape. They didn’t have a specific destination in Hell Los Angeles, and even if they did, would they even recognise it anymore? For now they were wandering aimlessly, in the vague hope that some clue to Enigma and the children’s whereabouts would present itself. “I have no idea where we are,” he said finally, shaking his head. “This place is… well, it looks like Hell.” “It is Hell,” Blaze said, raising her eyebrows. She took a deep breath – and regretted it. The air was so hot it was almost intoxicating, as if the very oxygen they breathed was a poisonous fume. She squeezed her fists, and followed Axel as he started running now, along the freeway, between the bulks of cars, fast as he could go. Something in Axel’s peripheral vision warned him that something insatiably voracious was tautly coiled inside a burnt-out Ford Explorer to his right; and it was bored with the sickly soul it was feeding on. Wanted something firmer. Oh, glorious scent; oh, lip-smacking possibilities: here were two living humans… very rare in Hell this endless day.

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Axel led Blaze past the Explorer, going faster yet, even as the unholy predator burst through a windshield, somewhere behind them, uncoiling through the toothy frame of broken glass to undulate across the crumpled hood, dropping moistly onto the oily concrete – something centipede-like but bigger than a python and with the head of a leering, giggling fat man, coming after them. “Fuck me!” Blaze hissed, chancing a look back at the creature. She put on an extra burst of speed, coming up alongside Axel. “Hard to believe the ancient Egyptians worshipped these things as gods…” Axel puffed. “It’s gaining on us!” Blaze shouted. Axel focused his energy on running. They reached the broken-off edge of the highway, looked down through a sudden blizzard of ash at the streets below. There, thousands of unspeakable demons and manifestations thrashed and coiled, the crowds of the condemned – hunting and feeding, sometimes in murderous phalanxes and sometimes leaping randomly into the wailing crowd, to rend, tear, devour: an endless bitter harvest. And from what Axel could see, there was no peace upon being devoured: you were simply ‘digested’ down into a worse level of Hell… Some of the gangly demons turned their heads – heads that were mostly mouth – toward Axel and Blaze, up above them. Sensing them, they began loping their way. They knew instantly that these humans were different, more succulent than these who’d been devoured many times before… they were fresh meat. Axel saw a spiralling exit ramp off to the right that would get them to the street leading to Hell’s very own Edgemont Hospital. It was quite a ways off, but he ran toward it, thinking: Just keep moving. You can stay ahead of them. Long enough… But the demons clambered up onto the freeway and gave pursuit, one undulating, the others loping and leaping, still a good distance behind Axel and Blaze, but closing, ever closing. “Oh, Jesus, oh, Jesus,” Blaze was saying, running as fast as her legs could carry her. She felt a tugging-down on her spirit, an ever-increasing existential gravitational pull from the sheer mass of spiritual misery that was Hell, and it threatened to drag her down. She imagined herself melting like a figure of wax, her soul turning into filmy liquid that would run into the cracks of the street she was pounding over, to be sucked into the living hate that was the fabric of Hell… She tore her mind from that image. She needed to be focused and objective, or she’d never make it. She decided not to look at the faces in the window of Hell’s Edgemont as they ran past the outskirts of the building. Don’t look, Blaze, at those screaming faces slammed over and over again against meshed glass. Gnashing teeth and splashes of blood, just don’t look… From the corners of her eyes she saw demons flanking them on the road, catching up to them and running just behind and nearly alongside, as they angled to come at them. She could feel the hot breaths of hundreds of them reeking at them from behind. When they opened their mouths to scream, it was a sound composed of hundreds of individual screams… and now they roared in anticipation of fresh meat… Axel knew if he looked over his shoulder now, he would see the increasing, swarming mass of astral predators closing on them. A living avalanche of demons, snapping at their heels. “We’re not going to make it!” Axel roared.

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Then, in front of them: a human stepped out from the shadows, waving a small handheld device. Anthrax! Just as Blaze thought she was going to be ripped apart by the pursuing demons, Anthrax pointed his little device at the creatures, pressed a control, and it emitted a high-pitched whistling sound. Lights blinked on the thing, apparently emitting some kind of signal. As one mass, the demons shrieked, scattering in every direction, desperately clawing to escape the range of whatever it was Anthrax had unleashed. Within only a few seconds, the thrashing coiling entities had gone, and once again Axel and Blaze could stand still. They stood for a moment, catching their breath. “Anthrax, that was a close call,” Axel said, puffing heavily. “Thanks man, you saved our lives!” “It was nothing, really,” Anthrax smiled, and hooked the device to a link on his belt. “A graviton pulse emitter. Don’t leave home without one. Besides, I wanted the pleasure of killing you myself…” Blaze frowned. Anger flared up inside of her. “You killed Adam,” she said bluntly. Anthrax laughed then, an evil sound. He seemed to be right at home in the barren furnaces of Hell. “Ah, yes, I heard about the death of Adam Hunter. Ha! How ironic… that he was killed by his own dead brother. Bit of a paradox. Imagine what the papers would say if they ever found out about that one. Maybe I should sell my story… might even make myself a bit of money…” Axel sneered. “Where is Enigma? And our children?” Anthrax grinned. “Just a block or so away from here, at Library Tower. But never mind, you’ll never make it there.” He pulled a large, polished machete from a holster strapped across his back, and pointed it toward them. Axel braced himself. “This is where you die,” Anthrax hissed, and charged forward.

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14 Journey Through Hell

Anthrax swung the machete like it was a sword. Axel dodged the attack easily, and landed a punch on the younger man’s ribs. Anthrax grunted and stumbled to the side, then swung the machete to his right, aiming for Axel’s jugular. Axel saw the attack coming, ducked, and stuck out his boot, delivering a heavy blow to Anthrax’s groin. Anthrax puffed out air, doubled over, and dropped the machete to the ground. It landed softly in a pile of white ash. Blaze slid forward and kicked the weapon aside, hard. She watched as it clattered across the rocky, ashen street surface, then disappeared off the edge of a precipice at the side of the road: a sheer drop with no end in sight. Anthrax wheezed, clutching his groin, and hissed at them, “I knew I should’ve brought my gun! I should’ve disposed of you the way I disposed of Adam – quickly, and easily…” Axel was shaking his head. “Skate, what happened to you? How could you just kill your own brother like that?” Anthrax had a look of pure disgust on his face. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not Skate anymore. Stop calling me that! I’m Anthrax now!” “You didn’t answer my question,” Axel said. Anthrax snorted. “Adam Hunter was not my brother. Once upon a time, in a past life, he might have been, but not anymore. I have renounced all ties to my former identity – I have no family anymore.” “You must be very lonely,” Blaze said, raising her eyebrows, “with nobody to love or to love you back…” Anthrax cracked a joint in his neck. “Don’t be absurd. Love only breeds weakness.” He had recovered now, and adopted a kickboxing stance, ready for the next move. “You’re wasting your time with these questions. I have no loyalty to you now, and no remorse for killing Adam. Given the chance, I would do it again – but perhaps make his death slower and more painful. Your deaths will be no different, you know.” Blaze sighed. “You realise you’re no match for the both of us, right?” She raised her right hand, summoned a fireball, and allowed it to dance in the air above her hand for a moment. Forks of electrical energy sparked and zapped around it. “You mock me!” Anthrax hissed, squeezing his fists. He moved to attack, launching a kick – - and Blaze threw the fireball forward, blasting the energy directly into Anthrax’s chest. Anthrax was lifted into the air by the ferocity of the attack, and thrown back over the edge of the crumbling precipice. “Noooooo!” he roared, his flailing body arcing over Hell LA, as suddenly, ushered in by a demonic laughter that rang from horizon to horizon, vast curtains of amber flame licked up around the city from somewhere far below.

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“No! Help!” For a lucid moment, Anthrax realised he was flying upward, not downward. Then a kind of astral gravitation took hold of him. He stopped ascending. Stared with horror into the absolute depths of Hell below the precipice… And plunged down into it. Far below, demons seethed rapaciously like maggots in gangrene. They waited for him with open arms, gaping jaws… and for Anthrax, it suddenly seemed as if there’d never been anything but pain. Ever.

***

Blaze stood by the edge of the precipice and watched Anthrax fall. Then she turned her face away, her eyes closed tightly, bile rising in her throat, as his body was ripped apart by the demons far below. “I’d hoped that wouldn’t be necessary,” Axel said, shaking his head. “Such a sad waste of life…” Blaze frowned, and took another look over the precipice. “To be honest, Axel,” she said, “I don’t think he’s actually dead…” Axel leaned over further, and looked to where she was pointing. From what he could see, Anthrax was being devoured, regurgitated, ripped apart, devoured, regurgitated… again, and again, and again. He now seemed to be eternally bound to this damning fate, unable to escape. Blaze winced. “Looks like he’ll be suffering in Hell for a long, long time to come.” Axel nodded. “Yeah, but he only has himself to blame. Come on, let’s keep moving.”

***

Pillars of smoke rose. A blizzard of ash fell from the sky. Many of the buildings they passed had collapsed, ruins of despair. This was a Los Angeles captured forever in the yeallow of a jackal’s eye; a Los Angeles where demons thrived; where its inhabitants were always dying, in crushed cars, in rubbled malls amid melting plastic, in the very mortar of brick buildings… or torn to pieces as part of a show that never ended in the Hollywood Bowl. Axel noticed Blaze glancing up at the red sky as they walked down the street together. She was half expecting another attack from the flying demons. “Should I be asking you if you slipped me a drug at some point?” Blaze asked, half-serious. “Is this all some kind of hallucination? Is any of this real?” “You know it’s real,” Axel said. “You can feel it.” Blaze sighed. “This place makes me sick. It stinks.” She didn’t say anything for a while. They paused on a corner just outside the Library Tower. “This is it,” Axel said, staring up at the crumbling building. It was over a thousand feet tall, one of the tallest skyscrapers in the United States… Here in Hell, it

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was derelict, but structurally sound enough to keep on standing, unlike most of the other buildings. “This is where we’ll find Enigma, if Anthrax was telling the truth…” Blaze swallowed dryly, and nodded. “He’s in there somewhere. I can feel it. We’re so close now… he’s waiting for us.” Axel’s outbreath was ragged. “Let’s go meet him, shall we?”

***

The long, dark corridor echoed with their footsteps. Axel was breathing hard; his lungs ached; his throat ached. He had to use all his strength just to keep going. The atmospheric conditions in this place were harsh, barely suitable for human habitation – so bad, in fact, he’d started to cough up blood. Not a good sign. To make matters worse, the elevators didn’t work – though considering they were in Hell right now, that didn’t come as much of a surprise. God, he wanted a drink. When this is all over, how do we escape Hell? Blaze had asked him. Axel had no idea, of course. They didn’t have access to the Kaeyus Infernus on this side, so as far as he could tell, they were all trapped here. He felt he really ought to tell her that, but couldn’t bring himself to say it. It seemed too final, too damning. Besides, hurrying along beside him in the dingy corridor and up the next flight of stairs, Blaze looked as if she’d had a little too much bad news in the last twenty-four hours. Far too much… They went through a couple of swinging doors onto the thirty-seventh floor. After a moment, Blaze groaned, putting a hand to her head. “I need a rest. I’m exhausted,” she said. They stopped, puffing, in the hallway. “I… Enigma must be…” She broke off then, a strange look coming into her eyes. “What?” Axel asked. “I don’t know. I just feel – “ She broke off again, convulsively clutched at her middle – and seemed to stagger in place, then almost to moonwalk backward from him, as if doing a dance parody. She dragged her heels, stopped for a moment, gave him a wide-eyed look of desperation – seeming to struggle against something pulling invisibly at her from behind. Axel got over being startled and grabbed for her – but he was a split second too late. She was smacked hard against the wall behind her – and it seemed to crumble as she struck it, as if deliberately buckling to make way for her as she was pulled backward right through plaster, wood, and metal braces. Axel leapt through the break in the wall, but saw her receding from him, pulled by some invisible force that seemed to warp matter behind her. She flew through a row of office cubicles, through a conference room – Axel was running hard to keep up, shouting her name, leaping over debris, vaulting pieces of rotten table, lunging through smashed-open walls, never quite catching up with her.

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Whenever she struck something, he could see the invisible shape that was dragging her, as it took the impacts on itself. It was Enigma, possessed of some incredible power – but only his outline was visible. He heard her terrified yell: “Ax – “ Crash! She was yanked upward, through the ceiling. “ – el!” And then she was gone, lifted through the building’s remaining thirty-six stories, right to the very top of the tower. Axel leapt over a wrecked desk, and came wheezing up to the hole in the ceiling where he was. Metal fragments and insulation foam lined the hole, the edges prolapsed outward, flames flickering up around the edges of the gap. “Shit,” he muttered, gasping for breath. He ran for the stairwell.

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15 Blaze’s Tragedy

When Blaze regained consciousness, she found herself lying on the hard floor, in a large chapel at the top of the tower. The light was dim, streaming through a few stained glass windows tinted black over her head. There were long wooden pews and an altar with a pentangle on it, all suggesting some kind of Satan worship. On the wall, there was a demon on the crucifix instead of Jesus, and a lunatic nun who giggled and capered, catching the blood dripping from the demon’s fangs. There were actually worshippers here too – Blaze could see ethereal figures, shimmering in and out of physical existence, tittering and fornicating giddily on the floor beneath the altar, all the while clawing one another viciously: damned souls, in torment now, not ecstasy, condemned to rend one another while copulating without pleasure. And that familiar multitudinous gnashing sound was as pervasive as the sound of the sea on a rocky beach. She moaned, and rolled over. As she did so, her eyes focused on a welcome sight at the opposite end of the chapel. “Mom!” cried Max Stone’s voice. There, suspended in mid-air by some kind of stasis field, was her eight-year old son, his arms and legs bound by wire, and beside him, her nineteen-month-old baby daughter. Jennifer was sleeping, but definitely alive – Blaze could see the slight up-and-down motion of breathing in the baby’s chest, at least. Blaze smiled, and let out an involuntary cry of delight. “Max! Jennifer! You’re alive!” she blurted. “Mom, help us get outta here,” Max was saying. He struggled against his bonds, but they were too tightly fastened. He couldn’t do much but move them slightly. Blaze got to her feet, gasping through pain, and ran down the chapel’s central aisle, between the pews, to where the kids were suspended in the air. She looked up at them, hovering in place as they were, trying to figure out where the stasis field was being generated from. “Mr. Enigma set up some kind of machine,” Max told her. “Down there, under that pew…” Blaze licked her lips, her eyes scanning the ground. “Honey, I don’t see anything down there…” “To the right slightly,” Max said. His eyes widened suddenly. “Oh no, mom! Look out! Behind you!” Startled, Blaze turned. She saw a ghostly outline rush her from behind, a blur of colour. She had no time to defend herself as an arm came out to strike her with the force of a ton of bricks – - and then she was knocked back, hard, over the pews, flying several feet through the air, before landing in a painful heap by the opposite wall. “Fuck!” she hissed. Dazed, she opened her eyes, and saw Enigma standing over her, now fully visible.

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“How do you like my new powers, Blaze?” he said, grinning like a maniac. He looked at her in the eyes, his gaze boring into her like a pneumatic drill. She cried out from a sudden splitting headache that seemed to emerge from nowhere. Enigma laughed. “Here in Hell,” he said, “I’m not limited to the physical restrictions of the real world. I am like a god here… I can become ethereal, like a ghost… move with the speed of a bullet, even influence things on the earth plane with only the thoughts from my mind…” That got through to Blaze. “You killed Tina Stone,” she said, breathing heavily. “Some kind of remote, psychic suggestion…” Enigma smiled. “That’s right. After hearing of your escape from Egypt, I was annoyed, but not completely surprised. I knew that the best place for my revenge could only be here, in Hell – my domain. Kidnapping these brats,” he gestured to the children, “was the best way to lure you here. You have Anthrax to thank for that. Once the children were safely here with me, I forced Tina Stone to kill herself, weakminded bitch that she was, by jumping from the roof of that apartment building. But that part was just for fun… exercising my godlike powers, to twist the knife into the very heart of my adversaries…” “I thought you wanted to destroy the world…” Blaze said, her eyes filling with tears. “You said you had no interest in becoming a god…” “Oh, yes,” Enigma said, relishing her distress. “Absolutely. But attaining these powers is the key to my plan, you see. Thanks to my efforts, this dimension is slowly merging with that of the real world. In a few short weeks, Hell and Earth will occupy the same space, and all will perish in the ensuing doomsday.” He laughed, the sound mocking and insane. “Now that you’re here, Blaze, I’m going to kill you first, and I’m so going to enjoy it, you fucking stupid slut…” “Hey!” Max called from behind him. “Leave my mom alone!” Enigma turned his head slightly, gave the boy an evil, amused smirk, and then turned back to Blaze. He pulled back his foot, and threw it forward, kicking her violently in the face, hard. Blaze fell back, her nose and teeth smashed. “Prepare to die,” Enigma said, his nostrils flaring. Blaze wasn’t sure how the man had so completely overpowered her. It shouldn’t have been possible. For one thing, she knew two kinds of martial arts, and she was a trained police detective. Secondly, her homo superior genetic powers were not completely unlike the powers Enigma himself boasted to possess. But his hand on her bloodied throat had seemed to drain the strength from her. His power seemed to be flowing from Hell. She needed to get away from him somehow… But how? Right now she felt so weak, like a two-year-old faced with wrestling a gun from a commando. As she was wondering this – and struggling, kicking at the floor, trying to knee him in the groin, with no effect – he suddenly put his face close to hers, grinning. She thought he was going to force his tongue down her throat. The thought had passed from his mind to hers. For one horrible moment, she had a psychic glimpse into his mind, like looking through a window into his thoughts. How he envisaged tearing her clothing away, thrusting himself into her, how he fantasised that she would respond with tender acquiescence, the happy slave ready to give and give again as he took her repeatedly right here, in the middle of Hell…

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She sobbed, repelled, jerking her mind away from the psychic contact, and Enigma chose that moment to slap her, hard, the force of the blow spinning her around so that he could use a length of snapped electrical wire to tie her wrists behind her with vicious tightness. God, she prayed, are you really going to let this happen? It’s not just me, God – it’s the world… Blaze heard a low thudding, realised it was footsteps from another part of the building, not far away, coming up the stairwell. Axel! Enigma heard it too, and looked away from her in the direction of the sound, the distraction loosening his grip on her neck. That was her chance. She struck up at his wrist with the heel of her right hand in a tae kwon do move, knocking his hand loose from her, while striking at his jaw with her left fist, the blow coming straight from the shoulder as she’d been taught. But he dodged and she caught him only glancingly, so that he staggered back but kept his feet, digging at his pocket for a blade. She tried to climb to her feet, hoping to get to the kids. But he grabbed her around the waist in snarling fury, pulled her back, and – off balance – they both fell backward onto the floor, thrashing. Enigma rolled on top of her, straddled her, and forced her down. She heard him say something, but she couldn’t make out what it was. She sensed the intensity of his movements now: the time had come to kill her. He pressed his open hand down on her face, crushing her head down to the floor, smothering her. He had his other hand on a knife now, and she could feel the strength of resolve pour into him. She knew she was done for: she was suffocating beneath him. Her lungs felt like they were going to explode. She thrashed helplessly, trying to get leverage, to find a way out, but it was no use; it felt as if every evil in Hell had lumped together into a single weight just to hold her down. She saw Enigma’s face, grinning. The door to the chapel was closed, sealed shut. Something on the other side roared, and the door shivered under a sudden savage blow from out there – Axel trying to break in. “Blaze!” she heard him roar. Another thud on the door – it splintered inward. “Mommy!” came Max’s innocent cries. “Don’t hurt my mommy!” The baby was awake, and crying loudly now. Darkness began to close in on Blaze. She couldn’t see anymore. She saw only shafts of light through shadow; blue darkening to indigo. God, help me. It was a heartfelt prayer. But the only response was darkness, a deeper darkness yet… she fell spinning, endlessly falling, sucked down and down… Then, Enigma grunted, and plunged the knife down into Blaze’s chest, stabbing directly through her heart. He lifted the knife, plunged it down, again, and again. Blood was everywhere. Axel had broken through the door now, was roaring her name… … and then came light, the brightest light she’d ever seen, coming at her, engulfing her. The light was warm, brilliant, and loving. Mother! Father! They were waiting for her, smiling. Everyone was. She smiled, and reached out for her mother’s hand. And then she was gone.

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16 A Lover’s Rage

“Blaaaaaaze!” Axel Stone screamed long and loud. “Mommy…” came Max’s rasping voice. He repeated her name lovingly, unable to believe what he was seeing, emphasising each syllable. “M…om…my… Nooooooo!” Axel blinked back tears, his distress turning quickly into rage. He gritted his teeth and charged at Enigma, his anger toward the doppelganger boiling over, and he delivered a powerful flaming uppercut across the man’s chest, ripping clothes and the skin beneath. “Graaaand Upper!” Enigma was knocked back, taken by surprise, wincing in pain at the sheer ferocity of the attack. Axel felt a short rush of satisfaction, seeing Enigma with his clothes ripped, smoking, and pissed off. If you made him mad, that meant you were getting to him. But it wasn’t nearly enough – Enigma had Zan’s death to answer for, Adam, Amber… and now Blaze! How many others? “You killed Blaze!” Axel roared. “You fucking piece of shit!” Enigma crouched to leap at him – but Axel was already throwing a fist at Enigma, and it struck him squarely in the face, knocking him back. “I thoroughly enjoyed it too,” Enigma hissed at him, a mocking, bloodied smile coming over his features. “Once I’m finished with you, I’m going to fuck her corpse…” And then he leapt at Axel – knocking the wind out of him, body-slamming him to the ground. Axel was propelled back into the wall by Enigma’s forward momentum, with the doppelganger’s hand tightening around his neck, crushing his esophagus, spots flaring in front of his eyes so that all he could see was the evil man’s triumphant leer. “Dad!” Max cried out, his entire body trembling with sobs. No! He was almost unconscious. Enigma was taking his time, savouring Axel’s death most of all, making it last a few seconds longer – and yet another few seconds longer. The doppelganger was gloating about it, spitting down into Axel’s face. “Here, Axel, have a little air – I’ll loosen my hands a bit. Now I choke the air off again… but now here’s a little more! Now I choke again, and this time… this time I’m going to finish the job!” Axel was so weak… he was ready to give up. Enigma had completely overpowered him almost effortlessly. Maybe he was getting what he deserved for not being there to save Blaze… That’s it, Axel, came the suggestion from Enigma. Telepathic, definitely. You don’t deserve to survive… Give up. That was Enigma’s mistake. His gloating infuriated Axel anew – and a surge of fury brought strength with it, just enough to strike out heavily with his fist –

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He brought it hard to the right side of Enigma’s head – and the doppelganger recoiled from the force of the blow, knocked back. He rolled to the floor on Axel’s left. Gasping for air, desperate to keep his advantage, Axel rolled over and flung himself atop the evil twin, clocked him across the face with another punch, and another, each one sending a ripple of pain through Enigma’s body. Axel hit the snarling, evil man again and again, and with each blow he shouted: “She – !” Wham! “ – was!” Wham! “ – my!” Wham! “ – wife!” Axel’s right arm was sagging with fatigue, so he changed to his left fist and went on punching, slamming his fist into Enigma’s head, over and over, his rage knowing no bounds. He saw flesh and bone breaking apart, blood spraying, and he could feel Enigma’s life diminishing, his energy spiralling away, becoming less potent, as Axel slammed him to the brink of death. “You bastard!” At last he had to stop, winded, gasping for air, sweat dripping. Enigma himself seemed to strain for his final breaths now. “I will see you back here, in Hell, very soon,” he rasped. “I don’t think so,” Axel said. He bent down, picked up the blood-soaked knife that Enigma had used to kill Blaze, and stabbed it down, hard and deep, into the doppelganger’s neck. Blood sprayed from a severed artery. Enigma’s eyes widened, rolling wildly as he looked for an escape. But he was too battered to get away, too diminished in force. He writhed in pain from the stab wound, from his smashed skull… suddenly aware that he was losing too much blood. He was dying, and Axel had won. “No!” Enigma roared. “This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be!” Axel swallowed dryly. Saw Blaze’s lifeless body laying nearby out the corner of his vision. “You’ve got that right,” he muttered. Enigma screamed, a liquid gurgle, then died. His eyes stared blankly. Axel grimaced, overcome with a final rush of anger, and reached down to pick up Enigma’s body. He carried it across the chapel to the stained glass window, and, summoning his last vestiges of strength, threw it through the glass. He covered his face as the window shattered, and Enigma’s body disappeared into the blizzard of ash outside, where its Hellish retribution awaited. Exhausted, Axel stumbled back, falling to his knees at the feet of Blaze’s motionless body. “B…Blaze…” he sobbed, tears pouring down his face. He took her dead hands, kissed them with his lips, desperately hoping that somehow, she would wake up. But she didn’t. She was dead. “I love you…” he murmured. “I’ll always love you…” Then, he heard his son’s voice, a beacon of light in the sea of darkness that had enveloped his mind: “Dad! Come on, get us outta here!”

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Axel took a deep breath, wiped the tears from his eyes, and summoned strength from that core of reserve that was his fatherly instinct, the undying love for his children. He went to where Max and Jennifer were being held, and bent down to shut off the stasis field, his mind whirling with emotions. As the machine whirred and shut itself down, the children were lowered gently to the floor, released from its hold. Axel lifted the baby Jennifer into his arms, and Max wrapped his arms around him, giving him a well-needed hug. “I love you, dad,” Max cried. “I love you too, son.” “Is mom dead?” the boy asked. “Is she in Heaven now?” Axel swallowed. He sighed heavily, tears forming again, and then closed his eyes, hugging his son tightly. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, she is. I am so sorry, Max. I’m so sorry…”

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17 Aftermath

It was over… Enigma was dead, and the world was safe once again, from the invisible yet catastrophic threat he had posed from this infernal domain. Axel, however, didn’t feel like celebrating right now. Two hours had passed, and he was still an emotional wreck; pacing back and forth across the chapel – moving to the stained glass window, gazing out at the impossibly thick blizzard of ash – then, moving back to Blaze’s motionless body, falling to his knees, sobbing with inconsolable grief. Blaze is dead. It was so hard for him to accept, so difficult to believe. The love of his life… his wife, and the mother of his two children… dead? But they had been through so much together! It seemed so unfair! Yet here, right before his very eyes, was her lifeless body – riddled with stab wounds, covered in blood. Strangely enough, despite the violent nature of her death, she looked so peaceful with it, like she had accepted her fate willingly, without any resistance. That was unlike Blaze. She was a fighter, always had been. Ever since he’d first met her fifteen years earlier, she had always been such a defiant character, especially when it came to people trying to kill her. Her entire life, in fact, had been one long episode of attempts on her life, ever since she was an infant. She had been born on Cocos Island in 1993, off the coast of South America, and at the age of just three years, her tribal village, her family… had been wiped out by an opposing tribe hired by the Syndicate. She had witnessed the violent deaths of her mum and dad, sisters, uncles… a tragic beginning to a life that was then thrust into a period of survival, living in the wild, in the jungle… Axel closed his eyes, memories bobbing to the surface of his mind. He remembered rescuing her from Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital, in 2015… the instant bond that had developed between them, as he’d put his job with the LAPD on the line to expose the Syndicate corruption there, expose Senator George Xetheus… protecting her from the seemingly endless barrage of people trying to kill her. Such a long time ago now, it seemed. He remembered their first kiss, the first time they had made love… Tears continued to roll down his face. He had loved her so much, more than even she knew. And since that first meeting, since that first chaotic adventure ducking from the eyes of the law, battling X Robots on Syndicate Third Base… his feelings for her had only grown stronger. The revelations that she had been part of a Syndicate homo superior experiment, revealed years later, had only made him love her even more. For she was a very special person indeed, and there was not a single woman on the entire planet who was quite the same as her, at least in Axel’s eyes. Blaze was, indeed, truly unique, and he had been so happy when at last, in 2021, they had tied the knot and began having children together.

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‘Til death do us part… Now, in this moment, in this evil place… those nine years of marriage had come to a brutal end, and it was all thanks to Enigma… Axel’s doppelganger – and his original body, no less. It seemed like a cruel twist of fate… something that was going to disturb Axel’s thoughts for a long time to come, he was sure. So many questions and what ifs flooded his mind; far too many to deal with right now. Enigma may have failed in his plot to destroy the physical world, but he had certainly succeeded in bringing Axel’s personal world crashing down into death, ruin and despair. In that way, the evil man had been victorious – had gotten his long-desired revenge, at least. Blaze was dead, Axel’s mind was in turmoil, and Max and Jennifer had lost their mother… It was such a tragedy! Axel turned his head to look at Max. The young boy was sitting on the steps by the altar now, cradling his baby sister in his arms, quietly sobbing to himself. The baby was crying too, hungry and tired, needing her mother. Axel sighed, their future now seeming uncertain. From now on, things would be radically different, he knew. He stood up, blew air wearily from his lungs. “Okay, son,” he said. “It’s time we got the Hell out of here…” Max blinked away tears. “But how?” he asked. “I thought you said we were trapped here.” Axel swallowed. He was so thirsty – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d drank water. They needed to act now, or they would all die in Hell – not a fate that he would accept. He bent down, and hoisted Blaze’s body over his right shoulder. “Maybe, maybe not. I’ve got an idea,” he said.

***

It took several hours for them to reach the hotel where Axel and Blaze had first entered Hell Los Angeles. Axel had carried Blaze over his shoulder, while Max carried Jennifer. The journey back across the landscape of Hell had been long and exhausting, hot and dangerous… yet surprisingly uneventful – Axel had expected attacks from demons at every turn, but those hideous creatures had allowed them to pass freely, as if they had sensed the misery that boiled within their souls; it was as if they knew Blaze’s death was torment enough for them, as if leaving them to their sadness was a punishment far worse than anything Hell could deal upon them. As Axel stepped through the crumbling wall of the hotel room, he saw that the strange, glowing orbs that had been left in place of the Kaeyus Infernus on the other side were still present, floating in the air, twinkling like fireflies. He nodded to himself, remembering Deezee’s words: “It’s supposedly a legendary device, spoken of in the Egyptian Book of the Dead, which… opens a portal to another realm, through which beings may travel in either direction…” Axel made sure he had a firm grip on Blaze’s body. Even if she was dead, he wasn’t about to leave her in this godawful place. Especially after seeing what happened to Anthrax… “Hold on to me,” he said to Max. Max obeyed. He held Jennifer in the crook of his left arm.

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Axel took a deep breath, made one final check that they were all together, then stepped toward the orbs, thinking to himself, almost dreaming… There’s no place like home.

***

FBI Headquarters Washington D.C. August 12th

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Axel,” Deezee said, a sympathetic look coming over his features. “I really am… Blaze was an extraordinary woman. She achieved so much during her short life; as the founder of Firestorm she brought so many criminals to justice over the years, saved us all from destruction many times… this world owes her such a great debt, I wouldn’t even know where to begin…” He leaned back in his chair, reached for his glass and took a long gulp of water. Axel nodded, and did the same. Since arriving back in the real world less than twenty-four hours earlier, he’d been drinking a lot, and not just water, either… “She didn’t deserve to die. Nobody did.” Murphy sniffed. “You’re right. A lot of good people lost their lives during these events… Adam Hunter… Blaze Fielding-Stone… Tina Stone… Jesus, Axel. Are you gonna be okay?” He gritted his teeth, and shrugged. It was a question he’d been asked many times since arriving back. “To be honest with you, Murphy,” he said, “I really don’t know. My best friend, my sister, and my wife have all been killed this week. I haven’t even begun to deal with it all yet. Give me time.” Murphy sighed. “Well, take it easy, brother. The threat from Enigma is gone now. The data from our satellites indicates that Los Angeles has returned to normal. There’s no longer any trace of Enigma’s phase-shifting activities. And as for the Kaeyus Infernus, well, we’ve had it dismantled and destroyed in a controlled explosion. This kind of thing will never happen again. If it’s any consolation, Blaze died defending our world from a fate worse than death… Thanks to her, our children, our grand-children, will have a chance at a future…” Axel licked his lips. “I know.” He turned his head, staring out the window at the crystal-blue sky, at the wisps of cloud gathering over the horizon. It was such a beautiful sight. So simple, yet beautiful. Somehow, he knew that Blaze was up there somewhere, smiling down on him. I will always love you, Blaze, he thought to himself. I will never forget you…

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EPILOGUE Farewell to Love

Isla del Coco 550 miles west of Costa Rica August 14th

Surrounded by deep blue waters, with large populations of Hammerhead sharks, rays, dolphins and other large marine species, Cocos Island was a natural paradise on earth. The extremely wet, lush climate gave the island a unique character that was not shared with any of the other islands in the Galapagos Archipelago, or anywhere else in this region of the world, for that matter. The landscape was mountainous and irregular, filled with dense forests, teeming with exotic wildlife. The mountains combined with the tropical climate to create over two-hundred waterfalls throughout the island. It was such a beautiful place, pristine and untouched by modern human society; only once had it ever been inhabited – by a native tribe of less than seventy simple hunters, who had established a small settlement to the north of the island, near Wafer Bay. It was this tribe into which Blaze Fielding had been born, thirty-seven years ago, and now, on this day in 2030, it only seemed fitting that her body was interred here, in the ruins of the deserted settlement from where she had first been loved, before events beyond her control had swept her away from this place. The midday sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky, warm and pleasant. Butterflies fluttered through the quiet air, blissfully serene. Axel wiped a tear from his eye, holding Jennifer in his arms as he watched Blaze’s coffin being lowered into the dirt. He lightly kissed Jennifer on the cheek, whispering I love you into her ear. He reached down then, giving Max’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Max’s gaze was lowered, unable to bring himself to watch his mother’s final journey. A large crowd had gathered here to pay their last respects to Blaze, many old faces that Axel recognised well: Murphy, Deezee, along with a few LAPD, FBI, Interpol and MI7 guys, Adam’s mother Dolores, 8-Ball, Sham Mohammad, Lizzie Ortega, Jake Sumner, Leo “Busta” Lopez, even Joe Musashi, his wife Naoko, and their two sons, Moritsune and Hotsuma – who had flown all the way from Japan to be here. Even Jodie Kelly had made an appearance, now quite visibly pregnant. It was nice to see such support from his friends, many of whom he now considered his extended family. As the grave was filled in, Axel felt the finality of it all hitting him, like a punch to the chest. He went and paid his last respects, throwing a flower down, wishing that things could have been different. He looked up at the sky again then, silently promising Blaze that he would see her again in Heaven, before moving off to join the others. “This is quite a place,” Jodie Kelly remarked, looking around at the ruined huts, the scorched village still fairly well preserved after all these years. Axel nodded. “It’s beautiful. It’s where Blaze was born…”

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Jodie smiled sympathetically, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I’m so sorry, Axel,” she said. “If you ever need anything, I’m here for you.” Then she looked at Jennifer, who was awake in Axel’s arms now, her big brown eyes blinking with innocence. “She has her mother’s eyes,” Jodie said. Axel smiled. “Yes, she does. In a way, I suppose Blaze will always live on, through our kids.” “She will,” Jodie nodded. “And they will make you proud.” She rubbed her belly, feeling a kick from within. “I’m having a boy, you know,” she said. “I’m going to name him Curtis.” “Curtis Hunter,” Axel said, trying out the name. He smiled. “It does have a nice ring to it.” “Maybe our kids will play together one day,” Jodie said. “Maybe…” Axel took a deep breath. Jodie was right. Blaze would always live on, both in his memories, and through the children. Maybe he would write a book about the events of her life someday… it would certainly make for interesting reading. “You’ve done a man’s job, Axel,” Jodie said. “I guess you’re through, huh?” Axel nodded. “Finished.” “It’s too bad she didn’t live. But then again, who does?”

*** Axel returned to the mainland later that evening. As the sun set over the horizon, he sat behind the wheel of his car, face in shadow, eyes staring straight ahead. His wife, his sister and his best friend were now dead. In what seemed like a harsh irony, he found himself loving life now, more than he ever had before. Not just his life, but anybody’s life, all life. All he’d wanted were the same answers anybody else would want. Where did he come from? Where was he going? How long did he have? All he could do was move on. What he would do next, he still wasn’t sure… With that thought, the lights of Axel’s car disappeared into the darkness. I told myself over and over again, if Enigma hadn’t done it, someone else would have. I didn’t go back to the city, not that city, there was nothing left for me there now. Blaze always said the great advantage of being alive was to have a choice. And she chose. And a part of me was almost glad. Not because she was gone but because this way they could never touch her again. The pain of her death would stay with me for a long time. I guess it was time now for a new generation to walk the Streets of Rage.

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APPENDIX

TIMELINE OF EVENTS

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SECTION 1 THE ANCIENT PAST

c. 500,000 BC

During the Early Pleistocene Era, a highly advanced civilisation of humans called the 'Aldera' sets themselves apart from their primitive rivals, homo erectus and the Neanderthals, having mastered all the laws of science over 3,000 years. The history of the Aldera's civilisation would fill a thousand libraries. They build a utopian city, surrounded by waters on all sides. Their Great Kings, Samyaza, and Urakabarameel, are obsessed with finding the secret to immortality, and build the ‘Colossus’ machine as part of an ‘evolution-acceleration’ genetic experiment. At the end of their lives, the Kings step into the machine and it transforms them into something beyond human… Using their esoteric knowledge, the Great Kings construct the Essence of Jutsu, a powerful artifact, but the general population of their kingdom becomes uncomfortable with that power, and there is an uprising. Using the Essence of Jutsu, the now-insane Kings instigate a global geomagnetic reversal, forcing the great civilisation into an icy, antarctic grave, killing the heretical non-believers. The kings travel the globe, bringing the gift of civilisation to the lesser developed humans in what is now known as Japan, posing as gods – eventually creating the Jomon Empire.

c. 4000 BC

The Great Kings train the very first Shinobi warriors at the Temple of Art in Subashiri, and lead them to great victories, conquering most of Japan with their incredible abilities.

c. 3900 BC

The Great Kings mysteriously disappear, and the Jomon Empire soon collapses, unable to survive without its leaders. The ‘Essence of Jutsu’ is split into two pieces, and each piece is hidden at opposite ends of the known world, to stop its power falling into the wrong hands. The ancient Shinobi fade into relative obscurity.

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c. 3000 BC

The Kaeyus Infernus artifact is created in Ancient Egypt, as a ‘doorway’ to the realm of the gods. Egyptian scientists manage to open a portal to a Hellish dimension, but it proves too difficult to control or understand. Pharoah Smenkhkare orders the portal to be closed indefinitely, and the Kaeyus Infernus dismantled, its nine component pieces hidden all over the earth.

AD 784 The long-deserted ‘Temple of Art’ is destroyed by Japan’s Emperor Kammu, who deems the site ‘unholy’ and ‘possessed of evil’. The Shinobi warriors are declared sorcerers and outlawed.

SECTION 2 LATE 19TH / EARLY 20TH CENTURY

1879 Gunther Plaut is born in Jerusalem.

1897 Karl Haupstein is born in Munich, Germany.

1901 Karl Haupstein, a child musical prodigy, begins touring the capitals of Europe singing opera, aged just 4. He is one of the last performing artists to sing for Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom before her death on January 22. Queen Victoria was said to be "moved" by the performance.

1909 Karl Haupstein loses his singing voice due to the onset of puberty. His career as an opera singer ends, and he enters a deep depression.

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1912 Karl Haupstein develops an extreme form of body dysmorphic disorder, and begins performing bizarre, brutal experiments on his own body. He removes his eyelids, jawbone, toes and fingers, replacing them with mechanical components.

1914-1918 Karl Haupstein fights in the Great War, acting as a spy and assassin for German intelligence. His codename is "DREADNOUGHT", and he becomes a great master of the sword. After the war, he continues to go by the name Dreadnought, now considering himself beyond human.

1916 Dietrich Dahm is born in Berlin, Germany.

1920 John Souther is born on the Mediterranean coast of Israel.

1930 Dreadnought meets Adolf Hitler for the first time, and becomes a member of the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei (Nazi Party).

1933 Dreadnought joins the Schutzstaffel (SS) and achieves the rank of Lieutenant Colonel.

1936 Colonel Dreadnought completes a tour of duty at Auschwitz concentration camp. There, he decides to take his passion for human experimentation to a whole new level. He kills thousands of innocent people in the process. 1937 Colonel Dreadnought becomes a high-ranking member of the Thule Society, taking charge of some of Nazi Germany's most notorious genetic experiments. Answerable only to Hitler himself, he is given command of a large, secret scientific facility outside Dusseldorf. He uses hundreds of Jewish prisoners from Auschwitz as unwilling test subjects.

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1942 John Souther is changed into the monstrous "Zamza" creature during one of Dreadnought's experiments. Gunther Plaut is transformed into the horrific "Vehelits" monster. The creatures ultimately prove too difficult for the Nazi scientists to control, and the facility is abandoned.

1944 Dietrich Dahm's wife falls pregnant.

1945 When the Soviet Red Army invades Berlin, Colonel Dreadnought leads a company of Nazi soldiers to defend the capital. However, their forces are decimated and the mission fails. Dietrich Dahm is killed by a Soviet grenade, and Dreadnought himself is hit by a tank shell. He goes missing, presumed dead. Just one week later, Dietrich Dahm's widow gives birth to their son, Henry Dahm. During his early years, the young Dahm boy would grow up in Soviet-occupied East Berlin, in the district of Weißensee. Still alive, Dreadnought flees Germany and goes into hiding in Romania.

1949 Dreadnought dies, bitter and alone, after his mechanical components fail.

SECTION 3 RISE OF THE SYNDICATE

1950 George Xetheus is born in Belmopan, Belize, the son of a wealthy landowner with ties to international cocaine smuggling. Young George grows up in a large family penthouse in the Maya Mopan district. 1956 An unmarked grave is found in Romania. Dental records identify the remains as those of Colonel Dreadnought.

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1959 The last surviving Shinobi are hunted down to virtual extinction by the Japanese government in the Shinobi Purge. The only survivor is twenty-year-old Harada Maezumi, who flees Japan for nearby Malaysia.

1960 A child prodigy, Henry Dahm achieves a PhD in Robotics at the age of 15, from the Humboldt University of Berlin, home to many of Germany’s greatest thinkers of the past two centuries. After his graduation, he is forced into working for the Sozialistische Einheitspartei Deutschlands (Socialist Unity Party of Germany).

1966 At his father’s urging, George Xetheus joins the US Armed Forces and fights in the Vietnam War. He soon makes a name for himself as an accomplished pilot and soldier, playing a key role in both Operation Rolling Thunder and Operation Commando Hunt, two bombing campaigns that targeted Vietnamese air defences and industrial infrastructure. He went on to fight in the first major ground operation by US troops, Operation Starlite, where he would spend the next few years engaged in smallunit guerrilla warfare.

1970 George Xetheus is captured by Viet-Cong forces behind enemy lines after being separated from his unit. He is taken to a secure facility deep in the insurgents’ territory, and tortured for American military secrets. The torture lasts for many months, but Xetheus does not divulge any information. He eventually manages to escape, after killing his captors with his bare hands in a gruesome night of desperate survival. Locke Stone is born in Newark, New Jersey.

1971 Gilbert Zan is born in Queens District, New York City, the son of Victor Zan, a US government scientist renowned for his atomic research. Mara Moss is born in Los Angeles, California

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1972 George Xetheus returns from Vietnam, twisted and scarred from his experiences. The US Military, previously believing him to be Missing in Action, hails him as a war hero, and decorates him with a wide variety of medals. However, Xetheus secretly despises the US Government, blaming them for abandoning him to the enemy and leaving him there to rot. He decides that all governments are fundamentally corrupt, and begins dreaming of a way he can make them all pay for their crimes. He decides to enter politics.

1973 George Xetheus enrols at Yale Law School in New Haven, Connecticut. He begins studying Comparative Constitutional Law, International Law, Corporate Finance, Legal History and an array of other clinical programs.

1975 Emperor Shōwa, in an uncharacteristic change of face, grants Harada Maezumi a full pardon almost twenty years after his exile, allowing him to return to Japan and establish the Oboro Dōjō, a new school of Shinobi training. All Japanese laws forbidding the training of Shinobi warriors are repealed.

1977 George Xetheus’ father is diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, and admitted to a local hospital in Belize.

1978 George Xetheus returns to Belize, where he promises his terminally ill father that he will make the “capitalist scum pay for the insolence of generations”. He promises his father there and then, to usher in a new age for humanity, one free of capitalist, corporate ideologies, one which his father can be proud of. With his dying breath, George’s father whispers, “I believe in you, my son.”

1979 George Xetheus graduates from Yale Law School at the top of his class. Victor Zan discovers the Laxine Atom during a particle experiment in Washington D.C.

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1982 Illias Shiva, a Japanese ninjitsu master, and his heavily-pregnant wife Miwa take a vacation to London, England, where Miwa gives birth to a son. The baby boy is named Leon.

1984 From the tender age of two, Leon Shiva is trained in the ways of ninjitsu at the family home in Hyōgo Prefecture, located in the Kinki region on Honshū island, Japan. Over the next several years, Leon would grow and develop into an accomplished fighter, skilled in a wide array of techniques and disciplines. Illias Shiva, eager to shift the balance of power in Japan, becomes a high-ranking member in a fledgling criminal organisation known as the ‘Zeed’.

1985 George Xetheus, having amassed considerable wealth thanks to his father’s inheritance and a series of high-profile bank heists across the globe, finally puts his plan of political subversion into action. Joining the Republican party, he campaigns for election as the US Senator of California, using his famous experiences in Vietnam to sway sympathy votes his way. On the election day itself, in the city of Los Angeles, he rigs the result by secretly burning truckloads of Democratic voting papers and bribing the vote counters, thereby earning himself a ‘landslide victory’. Senator George Xetheus is welcomed by the American public, but no-one could ever imagine the horror that would soon follow in the wake of his election. Citing the US government’s tendency to name their military plans ‘Operations’, George Xetheus calls his own plan ‘Operation Shadow Hand’, and begins putting his master plan into action.

1986 George Xetheus becomes Chairman of the US Senate Rules and Administration Committee, given power to audit and control the expenses of the Senate. Over a period of several months, he uses his position to divert more and more governmental spending into a top secret new organisation he calls the “Syndicate.” The Syndicate is initially comprised of covertly allied, influential government officials and businessmen, including Ronald Reagan, the US President, with dreams of ushering in a peaceful new world order. In June 1986, George Xetheus begins secretly employing a group of enforcers loyal only to him, to take care of his dirty work and reinforce his position as the ruler of the Syndicate. Xetheus has his enforcers use murder, intimidation, sabotage, kidnapping and cover-ups to make sure that President Reagan, and his administration, are eating out of his hand and letting him do whatever he wants. Most of Xetheus’ enforcers are ex-military, highly trained, loyal, cold-blooded, mafia-style hitmen, who work, as a front, in government agencies such as the FBI, DOD, and NSA. Any attempt by

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President Reagan or his staff to usurp Xetheus would therefore result in their deaths, and the ‘deaths of their families’. With power over the US Government, George Xetheus uses his new position to divert even more of the Federal budget into his back pocket, beginning to secretly employ more and more criminals and disillusioned soldiers to the cause of the Syndicate, which soon expands greatly into a vast criminal network trafficking drugs and arms around the world, as well as financing terrorism. The voting American public is none the wiser. The Syndicate’s nine highest ranking members are merciless protectors of the conspiracy whose true names are rarely if ever known. They call themselves the ‘Council of Nine’, but are also known to outsiders as The Elders, The Consortium, and The Group. George Xetheus is the head of the Group, and his influence, this almost global power, soon earns him the pseudonym “Mr. X”. Operation Shadow Hand, Mr. X’s vision of a global “Revolution”, ensures the loyalty of criminal bosses from around the globe, and the Syndicate soon allies itself with the powerful Japanese crime group, the ‘Zeed’.

1987 Max Hatchett is born in Whittier, Los Angeles, the son of a corrupt city doctor and a working girl. Locke Stone achieves a tenth-degree black belt in karate.

1988 Locke Stone moves to California, where he opens a martial arts training school in Long Beach. He begins dating Mara Moss, a local karate expert.

1989 Gilbert Zan begins studying a doctorate in ‘Theoretical Cybernetics Applications’, at the City University of New York. He is named at the top of the Princeton Review’s Top 20 “most promising students” list. Joseph Musashi is born in Fujiyoshida-shi, Japan, the son of two brilliant ninjitsu warriors trained under Master Harada Maezumi of the Oboro clan. Mr. X attends a White House dinner where he meets Dr. Henry Dahm, a famous cyberneticist, for the first time.

1990 Locke Stone marries Mara Moss in a ceremony in Los Angeles.

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From the tender age of one, Joseph Musashi is trained in the ways of the Shinobi by Harada Maezumi himself, at the Oboro dōjō in Subashiri. Over the next few years, he would befriend fellow students Kato Hitoshi and Yamato Katsumi, becoming as brothers with them, bound together by honour and friendship. Mr. X employs Dr. Dahm to head up the newly formed “RoboCy Corporation”, using billions of dollars from the US Treasury to begin pioneering work on neural nets and advanced computer systems. Dahm eagerly accepts the job, lulled in by Mr. X’s revolutionary plans. X works closely with Dahm to develop the Syndicate’s own style of technology, with the goal of using this technology for the purposes of Operation Shadow Hand.

1992 Axel Tyler Stone is born in Long Beach, California, the son of Locke and Mara Stone. Adam Hunter is born in Chicago, Illinois, the son of a crack addict mother. He grows up on the poorer side of town, in an area notorious for gangland murders and drugs. Kagami Shiva is born at the family home on Honshū island, daughter of Illias Shiva and his second wife, Lucia. Over the next few years, Kagami develops a strong emotional bond with her father, as well as her brother Leon.

1993 Blaze Fielding is born into a tribal society living on Cocos Island, a remote paradise located in the Galapagos Archipelago, 550 miles west of Costa Rica. Tina Stone is born in Long Beach, California. Like her brother Axel, she is raised into a life of martial arts and combat sports at the family dōjō.

1995 Dr. Gilbert Zan graduates from the City University of New York, and joins the US military as a scientific advisor. There he meets Ivan Petrov for the first time and the two develop an unlikely friendship. After a few unfulfilling months using his scientific knowledge for military purposes, Zan decides to leave the Armed Forces and returns home. He is immediately offered an assistant researcher’s job at RoboCy Corporation. Zan accepts the job, and moves to the city of Los Angeles where he meets Dr. Henry Dahm. Dr. Dahm sees great potential in young Gilbert, and assigns him as his own personal research assistant. Zan’s first project given to him by Dahm is research into parallel distributed processing networks, a computing paradigm loosely modeled after cortical structures of the brain, with the goal of producing the world’s first thinking machine.

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1996 Citing the need for actual human brain specimens to assist in RoboCy’s neural net research, Mr. X pays a local mercenary tribe to slaughter the natives of Cocos Island, one of the few places left on Earth where such a mass murder would go relatively unnoticed. Blaze Fielding is the only survivor, rescued from the island by a civilian helicopter. RoboCy scientists collect the bodies of the natives from the island under the cover of darkness and take them to RoboCy labs. Lost and confused, young Blaze flees civilisation and begins living feral on the West Coast of Costa Rica. 1998 Edward John Hunter is born in Chicago, Illinois. Due to his mother’s drug problems and an absent father, he is raised by his older brother Adam. 1999 Leon Shiva waves farewell to his father and sister and emigrates to the US, where he joins the Air Force in order to gain first hand experience with the military mind. He promises his sister, Kagami, that he will return home someday soon to regale the family with tales of his experiences.

Blue Swan, a criminal gang working for Mr. X’s Syndicate, destroys the Stone Dōjō in Long Beach, California. Locke Stone is killed.

2000 Axel Stone, his sister Tina and their mother move to the city of Los Angeles. Young Axel vows that he will some day become a police officer and bring the criminals responsible for his father’s death to justice.

2001 Leon Shiva fights in the war in Afghanistan, playing a vital role in the fall of Kabul and the taking of Kandahar. He is later sent into Iraq during the US-led invasion.

2002 Blaze Fielding, alone in the jungle for six years, abducts and kills two infant children on the west coast of Costa Rica. 2003 Axel Stone meets Max Hatchett for the first time, at High School. A friendship is born from their shared interest in fighting and training.

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2005 After an attack on another child, Blaze Fielding is captured and sent to Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital, Los Angeles. There she is diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia and committed for rehabilitation. She is placed on a heavy course of medication. After a weapons deal goes awry, the leader of the Japanese ‘Zeed’ organisation declares Illias Shiva a traitor, and puts a price on his head. Illias is then murdered by Zeed assassins. Kagami Shiva witnesses her father’s death and is trapped for days in the burning wreckage of their former home. She is emotionally devastated when her older brother Leon fails to rescue her. Twisted by the experience, she renounces her former identity and adopts the codename, ‘Rudra’. She flees civilised society, to fend for herself in Japan’s sinister underground. Whilst fighting in Gulf War II, Leon Shiva receives word from Senator George Xetheus that both his father and sister have been killed. Outraged, he opens fire on unarmed civilians in Baghdad. Returning to the United States in disgrace only a few days later, he is court-marshalled in a military hearing. In order to save him from a lengthy prison sentence, Mr. X seduces Leon to the Syndicate’s promise of ‘revolution’, and offers him a job as his right hand man. Shiva accepts, and the charges against him are mysteriously ‘dropped’ overnight. 2006 Leon Shiva is sworn in to the Syndicate’s Inner Circle, and is formally given a position of power answerable only to Mr. X. He becomes Chairman of the Syndicate Oversight Committee, given charge of the newly commissioned ‘Shadow Hand Projects’. Mr. X signs an order to keep Blaze Fielding hospitalised indefinitely, and authorises immediate genetic experimentation to be carried out on her, under the supervision of Leon Shiva and Simon Jerrin, for the purposes of Project Homo Superior. RoboCy scientists begin research on Project X.

2008 Max “The Crusher” Hatchett becomes the champion of LA’s seedy underworld wrestling scene when he defeats Abadede – a former WWE star with links to the Syndicate, who had ruled the scene for years previously.

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Rudra begins working freelance as a bounty hunter, performing contract killings all over the world for a variety of shady clients Axel Stone graduates from High School and enrols in the LAPD. Adam Hunter graduates from High School and moves to Los Angeles, where he enrols in the LAPD. Leon Shiva recruits Electra to the Syndicate, and begins a sordid love affair with her.

2009 Simon Jerrin begins raping Blaze Fielding at Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital. Blaze attempts to take her own life in order to end the pain. The Zeed organisation begins kidnapping children from the village of Subashiri in Japan. The streets of Los Angeles become increasingly dangerous to walk at night, choking under the influence of the Syndicate’s gangs. The global recession hits hard, causing many families to struggle financially. LAPD Chief O’Hara is forced to sell his car in order to afford a single month’s mortgage repayment.

2010 Axel Stone and Adam Hunter complete their police training, and become rookie patrol cops in the LAPD. Axel’s mother is killed in a car accident on the way to the graduation ceremony. Joe Musashi’s parents are killed by Zeed assassins when they go in search of Subashiri’s missing children. Outraged, Joe Musashi and his friends Kato and Yamato set out to destroy the Zeed themselves. Along the way they meet a young girl named Naoko, who helps them locate the Zeed’s hidden fortress. Joe Musashi falls in love with Naoko, and promises to come back for her. Using their skill in ancient Shinobi discipline, the three ninjitsu friends are successful in destroying the Zeed and rescuing the kidnapped children, but Yamato is separated from the others in the ensuing explosion. Yamato is horribly scarred but survives; however, Musashi and Kato believe him to be dead, and abandon him at the scene. Max Hatchett retires from LA’s underworld wrestling scene as the undefeated champion, with a personal fortune of 4 million dollars.

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2011 After the last remnants of the Zeed have seemingly been wiped out, Joe Musashi returns to Subashiri with Naoko and they become engaged. Rudra’s worldwide notoriety as a lethal assassin attracts the attention of Mr. X. He employs her to the Syndicate, and begins using her to dispose of various enemies to his cause around the world. LAPD Police Chief William O’Hara begins working for the Syndicate, after their sinister agents offer him a seven-figure bribe and threaten to have his family murdered if he doesn’t comply. An experimental nuclear fusion reactor is built in the European Union, based on original designs by Victor Zan.

2012 Axel Stone and Adam Hunter manage to track down the elusive criminal group ‘Blue Swan’ who had been responsible for the death of Axel’s father. After a violent shootout in the Mojave Desert hideout, they apprehend Blue Swan’s leader, Lucius Hawk, and place him under arrest. He reveals that Blue Swan is in fact only part of a larger criminal network calling itself the “Syndicate”, with ties to corrupt government figures. Axel and Adam resolve to uncover this mysterious organisation. Max Hatchett uses his fortune to set up ‘Neo-Pharm, Ltd.’, which goes on to become a successful pharmaceutical business across the State of California.

2014 The ‘Robot X’ prototype is assembled at RoboCy Laboratories. It begins to take the place of Mr. X at key public events. Tina Stone is kidnapped by the Syndicate, in the interests of genetic research. Axel is told by Chief O’Hara that she is dead, and he is involved in a violent car accident after losing concentration at the wheel. Suffering serious injuries, Axel goes into a coma. Whilst comatose, Axel wakes up in hospital, but with a different, suppressed personality: Enigma. He escapes the hospital, with no memory of who he is or how he got there, and flees to Mexico, where he stirs up trouble with local drug cartels. His activities attract the attention of Mr. X, who dispatches Shiva to recruit him to the Syndicate. The FBI begins investigating a trail of evidence which puts them on the Syndicate’s trail. Enigma murders a dozen Agents by setting off bombs all over Los Angeles, a very public display that displeases Mr. X. Meanwhile, Rudra assassinates the FBI’s Assistant Director in Washington D.C.

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Enigma’s reckless bombings attract the attention of various law enforcement agencies, including the non-corrupt elements of the LAPD. Adam Hunter is involved in an operation to take Enigma down – which leads them to an abandoned Syndicate research facility where Tina Stone is held hostage. After a shoot-out, Tina is rescued and Enigma is put into a coma. Waking up from the coma, Axel has no memory of his activities as Enigma. The bizarre events are covered up by the FBI and the LAPD, under the guise of protecting Axel’s liberty – while the Syndicate are really trying to cover their tracks. Reunited with Adam and his sister Tina (who decide it best not to tell him anything), Axel is none the wiser to these events. A communication breakdown in the Syndicate leads them to believe that Enigma is dead. Dreadnought is restored to life by Dr. Dahm in a top secret RoboCy experiment. He is upgraded with advanced cybernetic components which give him super speed and agility, powered by a hydrogen fuel cell in his chest. Astonished to discover that almost 60 years have elapsed since his 'death', Dreadnought joins the ranks of Mr. X's Syndicate.

SECTION 4 THE GENESIS ERA

2015 Mr. X dispatches Rudra to assassinate Russian Colonel Ceský Romonov, in order to replace the high-ranking military man with a Syndicate insider. Rudra is successful, and Colonel Romonov is replaced by Colonel Khristenko, who secretly feeds top secret Russian nuclear material back to the Syndicate. Following an anonymous tip-off from a Syndicate punk about corruption at Edgemont Psychiatric Hospital, Axel Stone and Adam Hunter stumble upon an apparent government conspiracy, with evidence that the Syndicate may well be involved with the case of a young girl named ‘Blaze Fielding’. Police Chief O’Hara is quick to dismiss the evidence and insists that they turn a blind eye, but Axel and Adam decide to take matters into their own hands. Axel Stone rescues Blaze Fielding from Edgemont and they go on the run, until they are able to clear Blaze’s name and expose Mr. X as the true culprit. Outraged, Mr. X sends Rudra to kill the one responsible for tipping off the police, then arranges for the first proper field-test of Robot X to contain the situation. Axel and Blaze destroy the Robot X prototype, mistaking it for the real X. They also kill Simon Jerrin along the way and find out about the Syndicate’s involvement with the destruction of Cocos Island. Unable to refute the evidence, Chief O’Hara allows Blaze to become Axel’s new partner in the LAPD, and she soon begins a crash course in police training. O’Hara is only placating Axel, deciding it best to keep Blaze Fielding close and reigned in to avoid any further slip ups while he makes plans to have them killed off. News soon reaches Leon Shiva, who knows full well that the presence of Triazolam in Fielding’s blood means that she is a renegade threat that cannot be underestimated,

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as long as she goes without a ‘memory wipe’ procedure to bring her under the Syndicate’s control. Intrigued by the destruction of the Robot X prototype, Shiva spends a week on the Island Base developing Robot X2, fuelled with the same chemical, “Fire”, being used in the Homo Superior experiment. Sure enough, the results are impressive, and Mr. X authorises him to go ahead and mass produce the X Robot line, using this drug as a fuel. Mr. X dispatches Rudra to the middle-eastern country of Lima to assassinate the War Minister there. Adam Hunter is kidnapped after he goes looking for Mr. X’s Island Research Base. Mr. X decides to use Adam as bait, in a trap for Axel and Blaze. Max Hatchett helps Axel and Blaze sneak aboard a cargo ship headed for the island, but they are soon captured. However, they manage to escape, destroying the entire facility and over 150 expensive X-Robots along with it. During the confusion, Shiva witnesses one of the robots kill Mr. X by chopping his head off, forcing Shiva to assume control of the Syndicate before things get out of hand. But he grossly underestimates the resolve of Axel and Blaze, and is very nearly killed in the explosion that destroys the base. Mr. X’s remains are recovered from the base by LAPD personnel, who take them to RoboCy Laboratories under instruction from Police Chief O’Hara. Gilbert Zan is converted into a cyborg as the test subject in Phase One of the experimental Project Y. 2016 Axel and Blaze move into a house in Beverley Hills. Blaze is properly enrolled into the police force. Thanks to their Russian insider, Colonel Khristenko, the Syndicate begins smuggling Laxine into the United States, and uses it to build nuclear bombs. This Laxine smuggling soon attracts the attention of the FBI, with one agent Steve O’Connell leading the investigation. In order to throw them off the Syndicate’s trail, Rudra is dispatched to deal with the situation, and it culminates in a fateful encounter on the Statue of Liberty in New York. FBI Agent O’ Connell is killed, but Rudra is rescued by Shiva. Rudra’s injuries are severe, and she falls into a coma. Mr. X is restored as the leader of the Syndicate, albeit as a ‘brain in a jar’. Shiva becomes disillusioned with his role in the organisation. John Hayes is elected as President of the United States of America. 2017 Rudra awakes from her coma, and is given charge of Project Homo Universalis, should the Robot Y prototype prove to be an unreliable ‘new body’ for Mr. X. Adam Hunter is reassigned to the LAPD’s covert intelligence unit.

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Wood Oak City is destroyed by a Syndicate-built nuclear weapon, killing thousands. General Ivan Petrov, the US Secretary of Defence, is kidnapped by Colonel Khristenko at an international police summit in Paris, whilst Leon Shiva, thanks to the efforts of Chief O’Hara, attempts to kill Axel and Blaze by sabotaging their flight aboard the TWA-747 airliner bound for the conference. However, thanks to Axel’s heroic last-minute intervention, they manage to crash-land the airliner in the Frozen Arctic with minimum casualties. Outraged by the betrayal and corruption, Axel and Blaze quit the police force to tackle the Syndicate on their own, as vigilantes. Gilbert Zan escapes from RoboCy and learns the truth behind the Syndicate’s activities. He contacts Adam Hunter, and a strike team is formed in what is now known as ‘the Project Y incident’. Max Hatchett and Eddie “Skate” Hunter join the team to put a stop to the Syndicate’s genocidal activities. Blaze starts to develop her fireball power, and is told the truth about Project Homo Superior. Electra is killed, driving Shiva into a murderous psychosis. Travelling to Reykjavík, Iceland, the team face a contingent of X-Robots, but manage to rescue General Petrov from the Syndicate’s clutches. During the chaos, Colonel Khristenko is killed by Blaze Fielding, but Dr. Dahm escapes. Racing back to Washington DC to expose a Syndicate-controlled robotic duplicate of Ivan Petrov, the team is tasked by US President Hayes to track down Mr. X’s hideout and finish off the evil man for good, with support from the US Armed Forces. Mr. X is killed when the Project Y facility in the Nevada Desert is destroyed. The Robot Y prototype is destroyed, and nuclear war with the middle-eastern country of Lima is narrowly averted. The team become heroes, though Leon Shiva, unbeknownst to them, manages to survive. Dr. Dahm is imprisoned at Arkham Asylum. Leon Shiva assumes command of the Syndicate, and enters into a shadowy alliance with Neo Zeed, a powerful Japanese criminal organisation that arose from the ashes of the original ‘Zeed’ group. Secretly, work continues on Project Homo Universalis.

2018 Police Chief O’Hara is found guilty of treason for his involvement with the Syndicate, and given life imprisonment. Axel Stone oversees the restructuring of the LAPD. The New Syndicate is formed with various cartels around the world, and Leon Shiva uses the nukes from the Project Y incident as his bargaining chip in a bid to rule them all, with promises of a great revolution. Harada Maezumi is murdered by Neo Zeed assassins, and Naoko is captured. Joe Musashi vows revenge on Neo Zeed, and sets out to rescue his fiancé. Leon Shiva reprograms Zan to kill Blaze and the rest of the team, but they survive, however Zan is gravely injured and dies. Zan is buried at Oak Hill Cemetery in Washington D.C.

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Blaze Fielding and the rest of the team track a group of Homo Superior clones to the Syndicate’s cloning facility in Philadelphia County. They destroy the facility, and manage to discover the location of the New Syndicate’s base of operations, at the Bank of China Tower in Hong Kong. London, the capital city of England, is destroyed when a nuclear missile is launched by the New Syndicate, by Shiva’s command. It causes millions of deaths, including the entire British Royal Family, a stock market crash and worldwide political chaos. Joe Musashi teams up with Blaze and co, and they track down the New Syndicate, taking down Shiva and the Hand, Neo Zeed’s founder. Along the way, Musashi confronts Yamato, who is now working for Neo Zeed. They fight, and Yamato is killed. Musashi recovers the ancient “Essence of Jutsu” artefact and uses its mystical powers to defeat The Hand and rescue Naoko. Leon Shiva is killed when he falls 70-stories from the roof of the Bank of China Tower. His body is taken to an FBI Morgue in Washington D.C., however it is later stolen by Rudra, who takes it back to the Homo Universalis cloning facility in the Himalayan Mountains where work begins immediately to incorporate Shiva into the experiment. The world in chaos, Blaze decides to form a detective agency to deal with the Syndicate Remnant. Axel Stone proposes to Blaze Fielding, and they become engaged. Blaze Fielding is captured by rogue Syndicate agents and taken to a top secret facility in San Francisco. The Syndicate performs the long-delayed memory wipe procedure on her, but Blaze manages to retain her memories and uses her new advanced Homo Superior powers to destroy her captors and escape.

SECTION 5 THE SYNDICATE WARS

2018 (cont.) Following the death of Leon Shiva, the remnant Syndicate gangs begin warring amongst themselves. Arnold Ernst Toht, the boss of the Black Widow gang, is killed by agents from the rival Shadow Alliance organisation. The Shadow Alliance is led by Dreadnought, Zamza and Silver McLeod, a former protégé of Shiva. They have secretly developed powerful Rakushin bombs which they plan to disperse throughout the continental United States. Firestorm International Detective Agency, Incorporated is founded by Blaze Fielding. Its mantra: to make the world a safe place from the Syndicate Remnant forces fighting amongst themselves after the collapse of the New Syndicate. The first members of Firestorm, aside from Blaze Fielding herself, are Axel Stone, Adam Hunter, Eddie “Skate” Hunter, and Max Hatchett. Using a converted military base in Colorado leased from the US Government as their base of operations, Firestorm

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begins to employ dozens of workers to assist in the day-to-day functioning of the organisation, as well as training new fighters to help in the upcoming fight. The “Syndicate Wars” begin, a 3-year series of campaigns by Firestorm across the globe to take down the New Syndicate’s remaining High Councillors, and the gangs forming from criminals left without leadership after Shiva’s “death”. Meanwhile, Blaze Fielding must come to terms with her new homo superior powers, which now include extrasensory perception and psychokinesis. The Shadow Alliance is Firestorm's first target. They travel to New York to confront them, where they find Dreadnought has stolen an old Nazi WWII artefact to use in his infernal plan. The enemy escapes, and Adam is gravely wounded by Zamza. Firestorm is forced back to the drawing board. Firestorm enjoys a bittersweet Christmas as Adam recovers from his injuries and the situation turns even more dire. 2019 Firestorm visit Dr. Dahm at Arkham Asylum, who tells them they will find Dreadnought in Germany. Teaming up with Adam's FBI partner Murphy and several others, Firestorm confronts Dreadnought in Germany. Zamza is killed during the fight but Dreadnought escapes again, forcing them on a wild goose chase across the country to the headquarters of Harakiri Industries, inc. While the team is distracted, Dreadnought puts the final stages of his plan in motion and launches a devastating nuclear attack on the US State of Florida, killing millions of innocent Americans. In the wake of the nuclear assault, the US Government orders Firestorm off the Shadow Alliance mission to prepare for war, but Blaze Fielding decides to act against orders and continue anyway, in order to save mankind from WWIII. Firestorm eventually tracks Dreadnought's base of operations to an old wartime science lab outside Dusseldorf. They manage to destroy the Gargantua, the enemy's nuclear bomber, and kill Silver McLeod. After a confrontation with the monstrous Vehelits, Axel kills Dreadnought and the team escapes to safety just as the entire laboratory explodes. World War Three is averted, but Blaze is fined for her renegade actions, narrowly avoiding a prison sentence for disobeying the President. Meanwhile, Axel Stone is falsely arrested due to the actions of a RoboCycontrolled double named 'Break' - namely, the kidnapping of the Chief of Police, Jack Wyndam. Firestorm must prove Axel's innocence and expose RoboCy as the true culprits, whilst rescuing Chief Wyndam from a Syndicate base in Alaska. In the wake of the geopolitical turmoil following the nuclear devastation of both London and Florida, the countries of the United Nations decide to unite, forming an international World Government, called the “New World Order”. All countries sign to the charter within a matter of weeks, and a global constitution is written. A World President is elected in a poll, and England is chosen for the site of the world’s capital city, in honour of the historical city of London that had been lost.

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Construction begins on the world’s first megacity, Neo London, built on the site of England’s former south-eastern county of Kent. Neo London is the world’s largest city, and is constructed in mere months, thanks to wondrous developments in the field of molecular nanotechnology. The influx of people to the city soon sends its population into the hundreds of millions. Joe Musashi and Naoko get married in their homeland of Japan.

2020 Mr. X is restored to life in his first Homo Universalis clone. He has a huge supply of clone bodies he can now use to transfer his consciousness between after deaths, making him effectively immortal. This, coupled with his new highly-evolved powers, gives Mr. X a God Complex like never before, and he begins to identify with the ancient god Seker, who he believes he is reincarnated from. He calls himself “Socharis”, the “Dragon Lord”, and begins a systematic campaign to begin restoring the Old Syndicate to its former glory, swearing eventual revenge on Firestorm, who were responsible for his defeat, and the toppling of the New World Order (NWO). Mr. X and Rudra spring Dr. Dahm from Arkham Asylum, and work begins on Phase Three of Project Y. Mr. X is adamant that Operation Shadow Hand will soon come to its ultimate conclusion and his life’s work will finally be complete. British Military Intelligence exhumes the body of Dr. Zan, and his cybernetic components are restored in a new android body. Zan begins working for MI7, employed to track down ‘Socharis’, the new unseen menace threatening the world. Thanks to Mr. X’s growing influence and power, two former New Syndicate splinter groups (Union Lizard and Neo Chaos) are able to expand exponentially and conquer many of the remaining criminal organisations. Construction of the Y Robot Battlegroup begins.

2021 Joe Musashi, now a Shinobi Master and the Head of the Oboro Dōjō, receives word that his friend Kato has been murdered by Union Lizard. He travels to the United States and meets up with Guy, a former student of his, Guy’s friend Cody, and Haggar, Metro City’s newly elected Mayor. Musashi learns that Union Lizard is operating from Neo London, and he promises Kato at his deathbed that he will destroy Union Lizard at its source and root out the so-called “Dragon Lord”. He contacts Firestorm and has them meet him in Neo London. Firestorm tracks Union Lizard and its leader, Sauros. Sauros tells them that the Dragon Lord is named “Socharis”, and hints that Neo Chaos will be able to help them find him. Musashi kills Sauros, but Max Hatchett is killed in the battle by ‘Jet’, an abomination of Project Y technology.

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Joining forces with Zan, Firestorm travel to New York and take down Neo Chaos’ leader, the eccentric ‘Ash’. They then track a Syndicate Helicopter to a Pacific Island where they confront Mr. X, who reveals to them his new powers. Mr. X kills Skate. Defeated, Firestorm retreats to their Colorado base with additional military personnel, but soon manage to pinpoint Mr. X’s hidden base in the Himalayan Mountains. Blaze Fielding discovers that she is pregnant. Axel is the father. Mr. X and Dr. Dahm put the final stages of Operation Shadow Hand into motion. The Y Robot Battlegroup is launched and the unstoppable juggernauts begin their attack on the world’s cities. In the destruction, the Great Pyramids of Giza are destroyed, along with various other monuments. The military forces of the NWO, under the command of General Petrov, begin an assault on Mr. X’s base, and Firestorm infiltrates in a tank, but they are soon captured by X-Robots. Rudra finally reveals to Shiva the truth about her identity, and they plot to put an end to Mr. X’s evil scheme. They break into the facility housing his personal clones and destroy them all, ending his ability to ‘rebirth’. Mr. X confronts Firestorm one last time. He almost kills them, when Shiva and Rudra intervene at the last minute. Together, Blaze and Shiva use their genetic powers and kill Mr. X once and for all. Shiva and Rudra help Firestorm shut down the Y Robot Battlegroup and end the global catastrophe, then surrender. They are placed under arrest and later sentenced to 150 years at Arkham Asylum. Axel and Blaze get married in Los Angeles, then spend a month-long honeymoon in Hawaii. Naoko gives birth to a son. He is named Moritsune Musashi. Mr. X, rescued from absolute death by a mysterious and dark force, finds himself on the edge of a pond in the middle of a strange countryside, naked, bewildered and confused. He begins to explore his surroundings, then is soon confronted by the ones who saved him: The Sons of Darkness.

SECTION 6 DOWNFALL OF THE SYNDICATE

2022 Blaze Fielding gives birth to a baby boy. He is named Max Stone, in honour of the friend they lost. The “Essence of Jutsu” goes mysteriously missing from the Oboro Dōjō, stolen by the Syndicate, who are beginning to secretly amass power once again, thanks to the influence of the Sons of Darkness. The Sons of Darkness, who are really the Great Kings of the ancient Jomon Empire, are using Mr. X as a puppet while they build enough strength to conquer the world and establish a new Empire of terror. In turn, Mr. X is using them, building the strength of the Syndicate until he is in a position to steal their powers from them and take over the world himself.

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2023 Shiva and Rudra escape from Arkham Asylum with the help of Dyme Kennedy, and embark on a personal quest to destroy Mr. X once and for all. They travel to the Antarctic, where they discover the ruins of the ancient civilisation there, and the truth about the Sons of Darkness’ origins. They realise that the ‘Essence of Jutsu’ is key to victory in the war.

2024 The body of Eddie “Skate” Hunter is exhumed by Syndicate scientists Onihime and Yasha, who restore him to life by order of Mr. X. The newly resurrected Skate’s mind is poisoned by Mr. X’s deception, and he takes on the new mantle of “Anthrax”.

2025 Shiva and Rudra steal the ‘Essence of Jutsu’ from the Syndicate, intent on using it to destroy the Sons of Darkness. Firestorm travels to Las Vegas on the trail of Abadede, following up on rumours of foul play and abductions. When they arrive, they discover a plot by Mr. X to artificially create earthquakes in the region with a powerful Seismic weapon. Mr. X publically demands that the ‘Essence of Jutsu’ is returned to him, and threatens to destroy Las Vegas if his demands are not met. Firestorm manages to destroy the Seismic device before any damage is done, and Abadede tells them the truth about the Sons of Darkness before they defeat him. Back at Firestorm HQ, the team meets up with Shiva, Rudra and Musashi and form a plan of action to take down Mr. X and the Sons of Darkness. Mr. X convinces Anthrax to tell him the location of Firestorm’s secret Headquarters in Colorado. Outraged by the destruction of his Seismic device, he sends Abadede (who is eager for revenge), along with a crack squad of Syndicate soldiers, to destroy the base. The Syndicate’s mission is a success – the Colorado base is levelled – but Abadede is killed in the battle. Blaze and Rudra are captured, while the rest of Firestorm, Shiva and Musashi escape. Taken to a Syndicate facility and tortured for information, Blaze Fielding is told that as a result of her homo superior gene therapy, she has a lifespan of no less than 350 years. Onihime and Yasha give her an injection which converts her into the First One, a mindless slave. Firestorm launches an assault on the Syndicate base, located deep in the jungles of South America. During the ensuing battle, Blaze recovers the ‘Essence of Jutsu’ and returns it to Mr. X, who uses it to absorb the powers of the Sons of Darkness, and kill

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them. Now a godlike-entity with great power, Mr. X makes a final attempt to kill his old enemies. Joe Musashi, however, uses the ‘Essence of Jutsu’ to remove all power from X’s body, making him mortal again. Adam Hunter kills X, and the evil man is finally defeated for good. Blaze and Rudra are rescued. Shiva and Rudra return to their hideout in Spain, while Blaze is subjected to military deprogramming to return her to her normal self. With the Syndicate defeated and Mr. X dead, Anthrax flees to Alaska and starts living ‘off-the-grid’.

2026 Firestorm is disbanded. The organisation becomes part of Interpol. Blaze Fielding falls pregnant with a second child. Dr. Zan rejoins the British Intelligence Service, MI7. Leon Shiva seizes control of what is left of the Syndicate. With Mr. X dead, he is now free to steer the organisation in whatever direction he sees fit. He decides to start work on Mr. X and Dr. Dahm’s dream project, the construction of a ‘World Devastator’ weapon.

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Naoko Musashi gives birth to a second son, Hotsuma. Rumours begin circulating that the Syndicate has returned, and are developing a weapon capable of destroying the entire world. Eager to get to the truth behind these rumours, Interpol reactivates Firestorm, reuniting Axel Stone, Blaze Fielding and Adam Hunter. After a raid on a seedy Los Angeles nightclub turns awry, Axel and Blaze are captured by the Signal gang, and taken to the Syndicate’s headquarters in the Mojave Desert. There, Leon Shiva reveals to Axel the truth about the events of 2014, and has him pumped with an experimental drug to suppress his true personality and bring out his darker side: the Enigma personality. Enigma begins working with Shiva and Rudra. Adam attempts to rescue Axel and Blaze, but is also captured and taken to a cell. He and Blaze manage to escape the cell, and infiltrate the World Devastator just before it is launched into orbit around the planet. Aboard the World Devastator, a confrontation with Adam and Blaze forces Enigma into a bizarre seizure, which forces him to split into two bodies – effectively making Axel and Enigma two separate people. Enraged at the way he has been used, Axel defeats Enigma, and the team sabotages the World Devastator’s main reactor, killing Rudra in the process. They then board an escape pod just as the World Devastator is

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destroyed. Unbeknownst to them, both Shiva and Enigma also manage to reach escape pods and get to safety before the weapon is destroyed. MI7 is able to track Shiva’s pod, but Enigma’s pod goes undetected. During re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere, Blaze suffers a miscarriage, and loses her baby. Axel, Blaze and Adam are rescued by the US Navy after their pod lands in the Pacific Ocean. Shiva crash lands in Alaska, and is eventually rescued by Anthrax. Enigma’s pod goes down somewhere in Russia. Taking advantage of the situation, Interpol coordinates with crime fighting agencies across the globe, and manages to eliminate every last vestige of the Syndicate’s activities from the earth. Onihime and Yasha, plus all the other elusive criminals, are arrested and imprisoned. The Syndicate’s money-making drugs factory is shut down. Interpol holds an awards ceremony to celebrate the final defeat of the Syndicate. Axel, Blaze and Adam are awarded the NWO Medal of Honour in recognition of all that they have achieved. Firestorm is disbanded for good, the organisation closed down indefinitely. Axel and Blaze retire from crime fighting, and settle down in Beverly Hills for family life. Adam moves to Washington D.C., continuing his work for the FBI.

SECTION 7 THE POST-SYNDICATE ERA

2028 Blaze Fielding falls pregnant for the third time. Leon Shiva begins a secret, personal quest for the pieces of the Kaeyus Infernus artifact. He employs the help of Anthrax and Enigma, not knowing that they secretly plan to kill him.

2029 Blaze Fielding gives birth to a baby daughter, Jennifer Stone.

2030 Jodie Kelly falls pregnant with Adam Hunter’s child.

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Dr. Gilbert Zan is dispatched to Italy by MI7 with orders to capture Leon Shiva. He is killed during the mission, just outside Vatican City. Leon Shiva is murdered by Enigma and Anthrax. They take the seven pieces of the Kaeyus Infernus in his possession and resume the search for the remaining two pieces themselves. They travel to Mexico, where they discover the eighth piece buried in the ruins of an old church. Brought out of retirement by order of the NWO President, Axel and Blaze join forces with Adam Hunter once again, and travel to the Valley of the Kings in Egypt in an attempt to find the ninth and last piece of the Kaeyus Infernus before Enigma does. They find the object, but Enigma steals it from them. During the fight, Anthrax shoots Adam and kills him. A funeral is held for Adam Hunter in Detroit, Michigan. With all the pieces of the Kaeyus Infernus, Enigma opens up a portal to a Hellish dimension. He kidnaps Max and Jennifer Stone and holds them as bait for Axel and Blaze on the other side. Growing in power, he begins the slow process of blending the real world with that of the Hell dimension. He uses powers of psychic persuasion to force Tina Stone to commit suicide. Axel and Blaze race to LA, where they find the body of Tina Stone. Using the Kaeyus Infernus they follow Enigma and Anthrax into the Hell dimension in an attempt to rescue their children and seek their revenge. They defeat Anthrax, and then confront Enigma, who kills Blaze. Outraged, Axel kills Enigma, rescues the children, and in doing so saves the world once again. A simple funeral is held for Blaze Fielding on Cocos Island.

2031 Jodie Kelly gives birth to her son, Curtis Hunter.

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank the following, without whose help, support and influence over the years, this book would never have been possible: Sega Europe, Ancient, Yuzo Koshiro, Capcom, Bombergames, Sham Mohammad, Greg Costa, Rhys Peak, Graeme Pearson, Mister X Neo, Steve Perry, Stephani D Perry, David Bischoff, Michael Crichton, Rob MacGregor, Charles Grant, Neil Gaiman, Sebastian Faulks, John Gardner, Chris Ryan, Dean Devlin, Roland Emmerich, Clive Cussler, John Shirley, Mario Kuzo, and last but certainly not least, my wife Marci Drury, who has been so very patient and understanding through this whole thing.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Matthew Drury is 28 years old, and grew up in a town called Sittingbourne in the UK. He has been a fan of SOR since 1992, and is now the webmaster for the ‘SOR Online’ website and fan community. He has been a fan of video games in general since the days of the Commodore C16. Over the years he has also owned a Sega Master System, Mega Drive, Mega CD, Saturn, Dreamcast, Nintendo Game Boy, GBA, N64, GameCube, Wii, Sony PS1, PS2, and an Xbox 360. As well as SOR he is also a big fan of the 'Doom', 'Resident Evil', and 'Monkey Island' series. Matthew is married with two children. To contact Matthew Drury email [email protected]

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