Pages

Read chapters 1 through 19 of Crysis City Book 1 Fear and Anger.

 

Happy Reading.

 

         PROLOGUE                 

 

          Orrin floated within the darkness of space, watching as a sea of black stretched out before him. He was millions of light-years away from the closest star, but he could see almost every galaxy in the universe from where he was. He could see the individual planets that slowly swam within this black sea. Each one possessing its own unique size, gravity, and life, but he knew, even though each world was different, they would all offer the same view as any other planet he had watched before.

          Orrin began to consider counting all of the planets in the universe. Their slow movement within the dark ocean of space would have made the task easy, if one could count to infinity. Trying once in the past and quitting at one hundred trillion, he passed on the notion before it even began to bubble in his mind.

          He sighed.

          There is nothing worth watching. A voice eerily similar to Orrin's echoed his own thought. Following the trail the voice had taken to reach him, he looked up, and he noticed a ghostly figure floating above him. With its bulbous purple eyes, grey skin, baggy red shirt and brown trousers, which were reined in by black boots and a sash that looped around its waist, the apparition was identical to Orrin in every way. The specter even wore its cloak with its hood pulled up just as Orrin did.

          It was as if Orrin were looking into a mirror, and through one, since seeing what lay beyond the ghost was no different than peering through tinted glass.

          Orrin always disliked how seeds of thought bloomed into being in this reality. Though, he had heard others of his kind complain of similar problems in the different realities they watched, some so severe that his race, known as the Kalar, had to abandon watching certain universes altogether. It was a phenomenon that seemed to occur only when a being from the fourth dimension stepped into the third. 

          Orrin continued to stare at the ghost above him, his eyes beginning to narrow as he peered past his own likeness, toward a… peculiar sight.

          Dark red gas clouds swirled around what appeared to be a moon hovering close to a large planet. The clouds were all encompassing, as though a cloak of crimson had been thrown over the moon in an attempt to conceal what lay below. 

          Orrin blinked and vanished.

          He reappeared above the strange moon, the ghost still above him, as though it were his shadow.

          Staring at the moon, Orrin's mind drew a blank. Although he was sure he had mapped every star and planet in this particular galaxy, he could not recall which moon this was, nor could he even remember ever seeing it. Stranger still, the moon was unusually large. Being more than half the size of the planet it appeared to orbit, it seemed more like the planet's twin.

          Is this even a moon? Another specter joined the first above Orrin, causing a new set of deep furrows to collect on his forehead as he narrowed his eyes further in annoyance. 

          "Moons do not often have clouds," Orrin replied irritably, before remembering the ghosts were only his own thoughts.

          Realizing he was speaking to himself, he shook his head, and then he looked toward the apparitions. The ghosts, however, had vanished, as they always did in advance of Orrin's voice. In their place now were only wisps of grey smoke, fading quickly, each second ushering their dissolving mist further and further out of existence.

          He turned his view once again to the moon. Curious to see what was below the clouds, he blinked, and a copy of himself appeared.

          Unlike the ghosts, who appeared only to relay his own thoughts into his ear, this replica was one he made regularly to view other planets. The clone, however, was more than a mere puppet whose strings he held from outer space. This copy would serve as a window between Orrin and the world below, but it would not imprison him within the confines of only seeing the world. Through his puppet he could experience all five senses, just as any living creature on any planet would, except death. Death usually required pain, and any serious amount of it would make him lose his grip on the strings that allowed the clone to exist.

          His puppet sped off toward the planet, stopping just beyond the crimson clouds. Orrin already knew that if he tried to send his copy through the gas cloud, he would likely lose his grip on the puppet, as had occurred on other occasions. So instead, he looked through the eyes of his puppet, and focused on the clouds. Using his ocular powers, Orrin pushed against the clouds, in an attempt to bore a hole through them and give his puppet a clear path to the surface, but his vision could not pierce through the veil.

          He focused harder, his sight pressing against different areas of the clouds, seeking a weak point where the red gas was thinnest and where his vision could break through. Finding none, Orrin retreated to his own thoughts. He knew there were only a few phenomena in the universe that could interfere with his vision, and fewer still that could block it. 

          Maybe if I squint. The voice filled both his ears and his head as another specter came into being.

          "Yes. That might work," Orrin replied. He once again looked through his puppet. Narrowing his field of vision would concentrate his ocular power into a tighter space, making it seem more like a spear. One that he would hurl at the crimson armor protecting the moon, piercing it and finally gaining a view of what lay below. He simply needed to be careful not to over-stress his eyes, as it might cause damage to the atmosphere or the surface below.     

          Orrin focused, and his vision slammed into the clouds. Oddly though, the clouds did not give way as they should. Instead they flexed, as if rubber were part of their makeup, stretching and becoming more resistant the further his sight went.

          It is most likely barren below. The ghost appearing to the left of Orrin almost broke his concentration. Almost. 

          "Maybe," Orrin replied blandly, while never taking his eyes away from his task. He wanted the ghost gone, and now with only a thin wisp of smoke fading quickly, he had no distractions left.

          Driving his sight forward, Orrin watched the clouds thin slightly, but they still managed to contain his eyes within the upper atmosphere.

          He doubled his efforts, and the clouds thinned further. Pressed to their limit the barrier that held him back began to melt like ice before a dragon.

          Soon Orrin would begin soaring below these clouds, scouring the surface for anything that was worth watching.

          He, however, expected to view a landscape swept clean of anything worth seeing. He expected a colorless world inhabited by only dust and sand. One he would turn away from within moments of seeing the wind swept surface, but as the clouds parted he was greeted only by confusion, his eyes widening as moonlight gently caressed his face. It was an enduring kiss brought on by a moon in full bloom, one that made him smile almost to the point of grinning. 

          Orrin turned his gaze away from the blue moon that boldly outshined the stars light-years beyond it, his smile widening further as lights in the distance outlined what appeared to be a large city, but when he peered at the city and the moon in turn, his smile faded, as a voice inside of him screamed.

          How? the voice said, as an apparition appeared beside him. Orrin knew it was not possible for gas clouds to cover an entire planet and its moon. 

          "I... do not know," Orrin whispered, not even taking notice of the apparition quickly vanishing beside him.

          There was no natural cause known to him that could create such a phenomenon.

          Orrin locked his view on the city across the sea, as something grew within him. It grew from a seed planted by the mystery that stared back at him, sprouting above the dirt, the stem carrying a bud that bloomed into a smile that spanned the width of his face. 

          I must know, whispered a ghost whose wide grin matched Orrin's own, but he barely heard the specter's voice. The mystery that lay before him screamed louder than his own thoughts.

          Orrin began rubbing his hands together. He had achieved his goal, and now he hungered for his reward.

          "Now, what is there to see?" Orrin happily whispered to himself. But his grin began to fade, as he became aware of a pulse that continued to act against him, attempting to push him back beyond the clouds that swirled around this odd planet.

          But he would not allow it, and the pulse now was no more than a child pulling at an adult. However, he knew he could not stay for long. This mysterious pulse, constantly pulling at him would wear him down eventually, and he would then be thrown back into a dull cosmos.

          Knowing his time was limited, he quickly closed his eyes, as he began to search for a good view.

          Orrin had always been able to find something worth viewing on a planet, simply by following the tide of fate. He knew decisions pulled fate one way or another. The more important the decision, the more fate swirled around it, ready to flow in the direction decided upon by the creatures involved. A decision made by a group or by a single being could determine the fate of billions of creatures on a planet, and Orrin always wanted to be there to witness the decision, before the tide burst out in one direction or another. 

          Needing to focus in order to find the largest tide, he closed his eyes and he felt for it, groping with his mind like someone searching in the dark for something they could not fully describe.

          At last he found it. A tide so strong it pulled at the fates of millions of creatures on the planet. He rode the tide until it reached an impasse. He felt it swirling in place, continuing to gather the fates of all those affected, until a decision was made.   

          Orrin knew this was the crossroad he sought. Hoping it was worth the trouble he had gone through, he opened one eye, saw her, and then gladly opened the other.

 

 

SCENE 1

 

          Black suede boots with only a slight heel covered the woman's feet, extending upward to just below her knees where it ended in a ring of cushioned purple leather. From inside the peculiar boots rose black stockings that stretched themselves over toned legs, rising until they hid under shorts that were colored purple with red borders. Her shorts did not cover much, spanning only the space between her hips and her belly button. Thin red straps crisscrossed over her flat stomach, until they reached a matching purple and red bordered top that covered little more than her chest. On her hands were fingerless black and purple gloves, which Orrin quickly overlooked, given the odd blue glow surrounding one of her hands. He followed the glow to her fingertips where a cord of the same color then stretched upward, as it wrapped itself around the top of a pillar, allowing her to hang in mid-air.

          Orrin's eyes then moved to the woman's face, where her ebony skin showed only a few lines at the edges of her eyes. He wondered who she was. He wondered what she was doing in this room, on this floor, in this tower, but more importantly what he desperately wanted to know was, why she was upside down.

 

 

              _______________               

 

 

          Duo was cloaked in darkness, as she hid within the shadow of the pillar, her hair extending only inches from her scalp, reaching downward as gravity demanded, and it was always so demanding. She understood gravity's relentless demand all too well as she hung upside down from the ceiling. Duo, however, was no stranger to odd positions. She held herself up with ease, one ebony arm reaching upward, as a blue colored blastwhip, which began from a blue aura that surrounded her hand, extended to the ceiling, where it then wrapped itself around the top of the pillar.

          Duo's blastwhips were like extensions of her arms, except they only took commands from her thoughts. She had always regarded it to be an odd feature, but it had its advantages. Like long thin ropes, they could extend more than twelve feet, or as she enjoyed most, they could disappear without a trace, a handy trick when trying to appear normal, and she did wish to live a normal life.

          Maybe after tonight, Duo thought. If they defeated Nightfire, she could leave behind the life of a Super, which was what normal humans called anyone with superpowers.

          A Super's life was nothing more than an existence filled with fighting, and dying. Normals, however, lived boring uneventful lives. The kind that Duo longed for.

          Closing her eyes and inhaling slowly, she kept herself perfectly still, clearing her mind of her stray thoughts before opening her eyes once more.

          She extended her other arm downward, and a blue glow surrounded her hand, as a blastwhip grew from her fingertips.

          Slowly… Slowly. Her mind continued to repeat the word, and her blastwhip listened, proceeding only inches at a time downward toward a machine that had been programmed to believe that shadow provided safety.

          Duo was no more than ten feet above the Mech Guard, who stood at the base of the pillar, but she still could not see it clearly, given that its grey steel had already turned black, allowing the Mech Guard to conceal itself within the shadow of the pillar.

          This new stealth mode was now present in every Mech Guard, and they had been programmed to use it to their advantage, in order to catch rebels off guard within alleyways or other areas painted in darkness.

          Duo had dealt with Mech Guards, Assault Mechs and Recon Mechs ever since they were first created. She knew they no longer resembled humans, their features over the years having been twisted. Rather than the original two eyes, a Mech now had three green camera lenses, allowing them to view the world through night, infrared, and regular vision all at the same time. Their heads were also no longer seated at the top of a steel neck. Instead, an angular titanium head protruded forward from the top of a four-inch-thick reinforced steel body.

          The change was to prevent Supers like Duo from making quick work of any Mech by attacking the back of its neck, which was the problem with the first version of Mechs that Gizmo had created for Nightfire's army.

          These third versions had solved that problem, along with a few others. Gatling guns and blasters were now mounted on a Mech Guard's forearms instead of within them, solving the issue plaguing the previous generation of Mechs, who always needed an extra second for its weapons to deploy from its forearm before firing, and as Nightfire and Gizmo quickly found out, giving a Super a second, meant giving a Super your life, or in a Mech's case, their semi-mechanical consciousness.  

          Consciousness? Duo thought, before she silently chuckled.

          Even though Mechs could operate alone or even in packs without anyone giving them orders, in her mind a Mech was in no way a sentient being. The extent of a Mech's decision-making being either capture or kill, made it impossible for her to declare it a living creature. That and the fact that its brain consisted of only silicon chips and copper wire.

          It was a machine, like her clock, like her radio, and it had its purpose, just as the Mech Guard below her had, as it scanned three hundred and sixty degrees around itself, searching for the slightest movement.

          It was, however, a shame that a Mech Guard while in stealth mode could not scan above or below itself. Every rebel in Crysis City knew about this flaw, and Duo was not about to be the first to allow this limitation to go unexploited. Not in Nightfire's tower. Not when one mistake might mean being ushered into the afterlife.

          So she continued to move her blastwhip slowly, knowing that even with their limitation, a Mech would move at the slightest sound, no matter which direction the noise came from.

          Duo brought her blastwhip within inches of the Mech Guard's body.

          Scythe. The word hung in her mind, and her blastwhip began to curve, the darkness unable to hide its malicious intent as it grew beyond the shadow to cast its own dark image of a scythe on the marble floor. Her thoughts then settled on the word, Razor-Sharp, and her blastwhip began manipulating its thickness accordingly, creating an edge that would slice through anything.

          Sever. Duo needed only to focus on the word for a second, and her blastwhip sheared through four inches of reinforced steel, turning one Mech Guard into two, before she ordered her blastwhip to vanish from sight.

          The cut was made at an angle, and the top half of the Mech Guard slid away from the bottom, steel seeming to cry out for help as it crashed against the marble floor with a loud thud.     

          Help did come, answering the call just as swiftly as the cut that divided the Mech Guard in half. She knew more Mech Guards had to be hiding within the shadows of other pillars, but, given how they seamlessly blended into the night, she did not know how many, until three Mech Guards came to a halt beneath her.

          In unison they shot out beams the color of jade. The beams widened as they passed over the destruction Duo had created. She knew that once they had scanned the destroyed Mech Guard, they would know to search for an intruder. She had planned for this, and the machines were behaving just as she expected them to. 

          Unmoving as she was, she watched, as the three Mech Guards cut off their jade beams, turning and shooting them out again around the large hall. They cut off their scanners, and as Duo expected they found nothing. They then aimed their beams at the ceiling, searching until one of them found her. One mechanical arm pointed upward only seconds before two more joined it.

          Duo stared at the barrels of the Gatling guns attached to forearms of the three Mech Guards. She sighed silently. Finally. They had caught her.

          "Identified… rebel Duo. Orders... terminate." Duo heard the Mech Guard's emotionless robotic voice. She knew her bounty was two hundred thousand credits, and she knew what the Mech Guards would do once they identified her. So, when the barrels on the three Gatling guns began to spin, she made the decision to defend herself, with nothing more than a simple smile.

 

                                                                                         

  _______________

 

 

          Orrin wondered why anyone would welcome their own death with a smile.

          The woman must have something in mind, he thought, and heard, as another specter whispered into his ear, but he was far too focused on the scene in front of him to worry about his thoughts. Orrin was so focused on her that he almost missed the birth of three dark figures stepping out from the shadows of three separate pillars, and he would have missed their entrance completely if not for the glow of sparks dancing between the fingers of one of the dark figures.

          Orrin's eyes were drawn to the sparks, and then to the man, who seemed to be controlling them.

          The man was tall, his height matched only by the long blue scarf that choked his neck at one end and flirted with the floor at the other. A blue shirt with white trim hugged his chest and six-pack, while hiding the right half of a brown utility belt that lazily hung at an angle on his waist. Baggy black trousers ran only inches past his knee, before hiding within grey boots that climbed halfway up his shins, but Orrin only glossed over these things. Orrin was more concerned with the electricity gathering in the palm of the man's hand, and the dangerous grin growing on his face, as he stared at the backs of the Mech Guards.

          The man's gloves hid everything except the tips of his fingers, which seemed to twitch more and more as his grin grew wider. Orrin realized that each twitch of the man's fingers led the sparks of electricity into a faster and faster waltz around the palm of his hand, until the sparks moved about his hand so fast that it appeared he was now holding a spinning ball of light.

          Contrary to the man who seemed to conduct electricity at will, the other two figures looked calm as they also stared at the backs of the Mech Guards. The one closest to the man who seemed to have the properties of an electric generator, was tall as well, even taller than the first. A tank top stretched across an immense chest, leaving his large arms unhindered by sleeves, while baggy army fatigues tucked themselves neatly into boots that rose above his ankles. From head-to-toe his clothes seemed to have been washed in buckets of green and black paint, more green than black as Orrin observed. The sides of his head were shaved, and his hair was pulled back into a single ponytail that only reached the middle of his neck.

          The taller man's eyes shifted away from the Mech Guards, as he looked at the boy to his right. His eyes stayed on the boy for a moment, as if he waited for something.

          Orrin quickly drew his attention to the boy. He had missed the boy's first word, but he caught the second, as the boy raised one arm toward the Mech Guards. 

          "Set," the boy whispered.

          The boy was shorter than the other two, his hair fashioned in braids that ran from the front of his scalp to the back. From there the braids ran downward, ending at the bottom of his neck, where they brushed against a dark grey long sleeved shirt. A red stripe ran from the neckline to the bottom of the shirt, splitting halfway down into three different lines that continued to run to the edges. The shirt hid the boy's arms, chest and abs, as well as the top few inches of a matching pair of dark grey baggy jeans. Red stripes were sewn into the jeans as well, running along the edges of each pocket. The boy's black and red sneakers, however, were almost completely hidden, his jeans acting like curtains, obscuring the view of all but the front of the boy's sneakers.

          He wore more rings than necessary. On his left hand, silver bands wrapped themselves around his thumb and index finger. On his right, he added a third ring on his middle finger. Orrin knew the properties of silver, and normally silver rings gave only a dull shine, even with light to aid them, but, as the boy held his right arm ahead of him and the light was given a full view of the three rings, they sparkled, reflecting waves of colored light more brilliant than the dull rays emitted by the lamps attached to the ceiling.

          "Go." Orrin's ears barely heard the boy's whisper, but Orrin clearly saw the red cord shoot out from his hand, spinning as it raced toward the Mech Guards.

          The cord was identical to the one used by the woman hanging from the ceiling, except his was larger.

          The taller man next to the boy sprinted toward the Mech Guards. Oddly enough, he outpaced the boy's whip, as he eyed the spinning ball of electricity that seemed to be gaining on him.

          To any normal being, the ball of electricity, the taller man and the cord extending from the boy's hand would have appeared to have crashed into the three Mech Guards at the same time, but Orrin's immortal eyes were keen enough to see who won this race, as one Mech Guard short-circuited from the jolt of electricity. Another shutting down seconds after the taller man's fist went through its backplate, his arm already pulled back out, producing a fist full of wires. The last Mech Guard lost power moments later, as the cord extending from the boy's hand went through the Mech Guard's backplate and bloomed from its chest.

          The cord extending from the boy's hand vanished, and he began running to the Mech Guard junk pile that the four of them had created. The other man, who seemed to control electricity, walked casually over to the wreckage, his long blue scarf teasing the floor with every step. The woman, hanging upside down, dropped from her perch, landing feet first atop the Mech Guard she had severed, without making a sound.  

          "Duo. Duo," the boy called, trying not to yell as he came to a halt near the mechanical mess they had created. Smiling up at the woman, the boy seemed proud of his work. "Duo did I win? I know my blastwhip shredded'em first." Duo pressed her lips together. She stared at the boy for a moment. No anger touched her face, but the look she gave him was that of an older sibling unpleased with the younger.

          "Bullwhip this is serious." Her voice held only a dash of annoyance. "We don't have time for this."

          A frown quickly replaced the smile on Bullwhip's face, as he began to study the floor.

          Duo then looked to the man wearing the long blue scarf. "Flash. You, Drake and Bullwhip secure a sky-lift. I'll go down a few floors and set off the alarms." Even though she whispered, her voice was firm. Flash only slightly nodded, and Duo turned away from the trio.

          She hopped down from atop the Mech Guard, but, before she took her first step, she turned her head slightly to one side.

          "Flash won," Duo called out. She looked forward in an attempt to once again take that first step, her foot coming within inches of the darkly colored marble floor before she turned her head once more to one side. "Again," she sighed, as though she had grown tired of saying it. 

          "Damn," Bullwhip whispered angrily, his heel clicking against the floor. Duo looked forward again, this time entering into a sprint toward one end of the large hall.

          The smirk on Flash's face appeared permanent, as he turned around and began walking in the opposite direction that Duo had taken, Drake and Bullwhip following close behind him.     

          Orrin watched the trio and the woman part ways.

          The pressure that tried to push him away from the planet felt stronger here, and as he looked up he could feel the waves of pressure originating from one of the floors above. Caution mixed itself with curiosity, and Orrin hesitated for a moment.

          This has the potential for danger, a ghostly copy next to him whispered milliseconds after he had thought it.

          "But I must know," Orrin breathed the words, as he began moving upward. He felt like a fish swimming upstream, waves of increasing pressure trying to sweep him up with the tide, as he continued moving closer to the mouth of this river.

          Orrin advanced upward at a steady pace, passing through ceiling after ceiling with the hope that he would finally see the origin of this river, but as each ceiling came and went, his disappointment only grew larger, and he had already passed through so many floors.

          Rising through yet another floor, Orrin instinctively looked upward toward the ceiling, until he felt the waves of pressure in front of him, rather than above.

          Orrin looked forward, and he saw a man, or a machine? At the moment he could not tell which side held the majority, as one red glowing eye and one organic eye looked out onto the room.

          He seemed more human than machine, as he sat with his thumb and index finger stroking a well-trimmed short beard that managed to only cover the bottom of his chin. So Orrin decided he was a man, until further notice anyway.

          Orrin continued to stare at him and through him, as he could now see the waves of pressure continuously pushing outward from the man. Orrin again saw past this layer, noticing that the pressure that screamed in his ears was not coming from the man, but, instead, it was passing through him. The man was merely a focal point, refracting power that came from somewhere Orrin could not quite see.

          Frustrated, Orrin's eyes began taking in the rest of the strange man. His eyes moved downward under the man's face, which was more a mesh of metal and skin, and he saw that the man wore a long coat that seemed to extend almost to the knees. Red dominated his coat and loose fitting pants, but both held enough black to be considered two-tone. Below that, black boots were laced tightly, rising upward until they vanished under his red and black pants. Orrin looked at the large white buttons at the chest of his long coat, and the white lace sewn in at the shoulders.

          He began thinking that the polished ivory buttons and white lace might mark this man as someone of importance. The throne the man sat on, however, validated it.

          Three steps elevated the throne, in a room so enormous Orrin knew it must have taken up half of the entire floor of the building. A red carpet leading from the doors to the foot of the steps decided who would always be the most important man within the room. Large columns stood in rows supporting the ceiling, each one littered with carvings of a different flower. The floor seemed even more ornate, as thousands of rubies were visible within the black marble. The throne, however, was plain. Unadorned as it was, it was like a garden in winter. It looked as if it screamed for all the pomp and color that other thrones were given, but on that throne it was winter, or was the man himself winter?

          One thing Orrin knew, though, was that anyone who stepped into the large room would feel a chill, even though not one of the windows which stretched from the floor to the ceiling was open, as was the case when a woman in all black walked into the room. It was only a slight misstep, but Orrin saw the hesitation that lasted only a moment, when the man's glowing red eye looked down upon her.

          A black hooded mask obscured any view of her face, while black tights wrapped themselves around her legs, abs and chest so tightly that every muscle was visible, but only to those who viewed her from the front, as a long black cape held by golden buckles at her shoulders leaned against her back, hiding her physique, the bottom of the cape brushing against her ankles. The only other color that dared to cling to her was red, as it showed itself in only two places. A red flame burned the top half of her chest and even managed to singe the front of her mask with its color. Red also wrapped itself around her arms, thin straps crisscrossing from her elbows, leading to matching red gloves which merely covered her palms and the back of her hands.

          Orrin knew that the males on this planet would have found her seductive, as her hips swayed with every step, but to him she seemed more like a snake, her heels never touching the floor as though she were ready to strike at any moment.

          The man atop the throne glanced at her. He seemed to recognize her, turning his head to look away as if she was no threat at all. At least his organic eye looked away. His glowing red eye, however, maintained a side-long glare, following her every movement.

          She stopped short of the first step, her fist striking her chest as she bowed deeply.

          "Lord Nightfire the alarms on the twenty-fifth floor have gone off," she said. Nightfire again only glanced in her direction, before turning his gaze once more to the large windows that lined the walls.

          "Take your soldiers and go to the cause of the disturbance. Send all available units there as well." The flavor of his voice was bland as he appeared uninterested. 

          "Yes my lord," she breathed, before raising her head and walking out.

          Nightfire's red eye continued following her, until she was beyond the doors.

          Orrin then watched the eye continuously move from side to side, as if it were scanning for any intruders.

          With the waves of pressure so thick here, Orrin's eyes began to strain. He could feel water gathering at the bottom of his eyelids, as the waves continued to crash against him, but he fought it, pushing back with all the strength his optical powers gave him. Orrin steadied himself. He let the fluid gathering at his eyes dry up, and, just as the last bit of irritation dried away, he blinked...

 

 

SCENE 2

 

          Orrin's eyelids opened just as quickly as they closed, but he did not recognize the painting that was laid out in front of him, a painting he realized he was part of. His head whipped from one side to another, disbelief widening his eyes, until an apparition sharing his likeness asked,

          Where am I?      

          "I do not know," Orrin replied in confusion.

          He could still feel the push he felt when he first entered the planet. So he knew he was still on the same world, but somehow that push had thrown him to a different location. In an instant!

          Here Orrin was surrounded by grey. Both aluminum and steel stared at him from all sides. The structure he floated within was a huge cylinder that seemed to be cut in half.

          High above he saw more metal extending from one side to the other under the rounded roof.

          A hangar? another ghost whispered as it appeared in front of Orrin. With its eyes narrow, it copied Orrin as their eyes searched every inch of the hangar, every inch that was visible anyway.

          Debris littered the floor, and piles of machine parts leaned against the walls, but the biggest obscurity came from a large machine that stood in the middle of the hangar. Orrin faintly remembered seeing this machine elsewhere on another planet. The machine was cylindrical in its design. At one end, two large wings extended outward on both side, while three smaller wings, two on the sides and one pointed upward, were attached to the machine at the other end, while three thick metal rods attached two huge wheels to the bottom of the machine.

          An airplane. These things are housed in hangars like this when they are not--

          How do I know this? I have never been to this planet. One specter cut off another before it could finish Orrin's first thought.

          A trio of ghosts now crowded around Orrin, as he continued to stare at his surroundings, until he saw two figures in one corner of the hangar.

          One was an older man, his dark clothes covered almost his entire body, leaving only an ebony face and arms exposed. Below his chin, a short red scarf hung lazily at his neck, the end sagging against a dark grey chest protector, where the image of dragons were etched into its corners. A red sash shined brightly at his waist, while baggy pants flared at his hips, only to hide within red kneepads and dark grey shin guards. The handle of a sword peeked out from over his right shoulder, but apparently one weapon was not enough, as six Kunai knives, hung at his hip, made the man's love for blades even more apparent.

          His head was shaved. His short trimmed grey beard spoke of his age, while grey eyebrows tried to place an exclamation point at the end of the number, but his toned physique muffled their cry, offering a most unclear assessment of how many years the man existed on this planet. 

          The man stood calmly, arms crossed above his stomach, as he watched a woman, whose world was contained within the machine that she focused on.

          The machine was half her size, forcing her to bend over until her back was almost perpendicular to her legs, in order to work on it. She peered into an open panel, her hands disappearing within it, in order to fiddle with the wires beneath. The sleeves of her sweater were raised. The color of cream consumed the front and back of her sweater, but not the edges. Orrin noticed that pink dominated the neckline and the bottom of her sweater, as well as the ends of her sleeves. The neckline seemed too large for the woman, as it bypassed her neck altogether, clinging to the edges of her shoulders. The bottom of her sweater wrapped around her stomach, inches above her belly button, her flat stomach bridging the gap between her sweater and a pair of green cargo pants. A belt with a buckle in the shape of a bear encircled her waist, preventing her baggy pants from falling below her hips. Her pants, though, were simply a series of pockets, each one bulging with the promise of more tools inside. Her sneakers were two-toned, much like her sweater, green surrounded a pink stripe that ran down the middle from heel to toe. Her hair, which was tied in a ponytail, fell down one side of her neck, her split ends brushing against the console every time she brought her face closer to the open panel.

          Next to the open panel, tools spilled out of a pink backpack, which looked more like a small stuffed bear with straps.  

          A teddy bear, in the form of a backpack? And those life forms. They are…humans, another specter said slowly, Orrin oddly aware that it was right.     

          "Wait," Orrin simply breathed the words, as his eyes tightened slightly, "I have seen these life forms elsewhere, on another planet." The specters vanished, his words clearing the ghostly distractions as he tried to clear his mind, and find an answer to this enigma.

          On rare occasions Orrin had seen life forms on different planets that shared certain traits, but they were never identical.

          Orrin's mind drew a blank, and even though he found his ghosts slightly annoying, he would have been thankful if a specter appeared with an answer, but nothing came. Orrin shook his head.

          "A matter for another time," he blurted out. There were too many questions swirling around this world, but first he wanted to solve the most interesting one. So he closed his eyes, and searched for the road that led back to the one they called Nightfire.

          He knew it would take time for him to find and follow the trail that led to that gloomy tower and that odd man, but, as he began his search, he felt a considerable amount of fate swirling around the man and the woman. Not as much as what swirled around that black tower, but enough to gain Orrin's attention. 

          The decision here would be important as well, a ghost whispered.

          So Orrin listened as he searched. He listened to a man, who stared at a woman, and a woman, who stared into a machine.

 

                            

              _______________

 

 

          Quinn watched Kayla, as she focused intently on her newest contraption. He shook his head slowly, letting out a small sigh. If a bounty hunter walked up behind her, she would not notice until the shackles were already around her ankles. He had taught her better than this, or at least he thought he had, but like always her mechanical creations continued to cast a spell on her.

          So Quinn looked to his left, and then to his right, checking both bay doors in the large airplane hangar for any movement.

          Seeing nothing, he let his gaze fall on Kayla's contraption. Quinn could see that she was almost finished, which meant she would then turn on the machine. Moisture began collecting at the top of his clean-shaven head. His hand grasped the blade at his back, but only a few inches of naked steel reflected the light before he slid the sword back into its sheath. His hands then groped at his legs, making sure all his Kunai knives were close at hand.

          It was not fear that forced him to reassure himself that his sword and knives were in the same place he had put them that morning. He simply needed to check on his blades, or at least that is what Quinn told himself as he folded his arms under his chest once more.

          He felt a twitch at his wrist.

          No! a voice in his mind screamed. He would not tremble before one of Kayla's contraptions. He was a Ninja. A former captain in the Wei Zen Syndicate. The prospect of something going terribly wrong with Kayla's little project could not make a warrior of Quinn's caliber quiv--

          Flashes of green light caught his eyes, and a silent sigh of relief swept out of him, as he noticed the communicator at his wrist was the source of the twitch he felt.

          Quinn brought the communicator close to his face, his eyes narrowing slightly before he crossed his arms under his chest once more.

          "Another group has infiltrated Nightfire's tower. The news is circulating all over the wire," Quinn said, as he shared his view between Kayla and her machine. She, however, did not retreat from her world, which for now existed within her new creation. Without looking up, she placed a screwdriver on the console near her teddy bear backpack, and when her fingers brushed against a small wrench, she grabbed it and concealed her hand within the open panel once more.

          "Don't you mean Lord Nightfire?" Kayla replied. "They'll just be killed like all the rest."

          "It is The Raiders." Optimism echoed in Quinn's voice. Although he did not quite know why. Kayla's words were correct. No rebel ever came out of that tower alive. However, Quinn was not surprised to see her glance at him. Every rebel in Crysis City knew of The Raiders and their power, but her glance was just that. Kayla did not allow her eyes to linger longer than a moment on him, before returning her attention to her creation.   

          "Well maybe they'll be able to. Every one of them is A-class after all." Kayla stopped once more.  "I just hope they can do it."

          A prayer? From her? Quinn knew she understood that praying would do nothing. The only thing that mattered now in Crysis City was power, but he found himself reluctantly looking away from her, his view moving to the ceiling, to a small hole that allowed him to spy on the stars, to the brightest star that dared to stare back at him, and it was there that he added his prayers to hers.

 

 

              _______________

 

 

          Orrin felt like a hound, as his mind sniffed furiously after the scent of Nightfire's tower. However, even with his eyes closed, he could still see the outlines of the figures below. Orrin wondered why the man with the sword looked up at him.

          Does he have the ability to see me? a ghost whispered from only a foot away.

          Impossible. No mortal could detect me, replied another ghost who was merely a copy of a copy.

          But maybe? the first specter replied.

          Orrin felt odd listening to a conversation between one thought and another. It was as if he was listening to his own--

          “I have found it,” he whispered, and a wide grin grew on his face, when he realized he had found the path once more. The road to the one they called Nightfire.

          So again he let the tide take him, as he rode the current of fate back to that black tower. 

 

 

SCENE 3

 

          Orrin knew he was back in Nightfire's throne room. He could feel the pulse that tried to push him away from the planet. It was thicker here than anywhere else, making him feel as though he was wading through water again.

          Orrin slowly raised his eyelids. However, he felt as though he were raising curtains on a stage, given the scene that was playing out in front of him. The scent of danger filled the air, as a woman and a boy walked into the room. Watching the pair, he could feel the tension coming from them, no matter how casually they placed every step.

 

 

              _______________

 

 

          Duo's hips did not sway as she walked into Nightfire's throne room. A sultry walk would do no good against him. It might even put him on edge, and she did not want that.

          Glancing downward at the red carpet made her feel as though she was walking over a sea of blood. Nightfire's blood. The thought thundered in her head. Duo stared at Nightfire once more, picturing him broken, his wide eyes staring at the ceiling in disbelief, as he lay unmoving on the steps of his so-called throne. The thought almost brought a smile to her face, but she did not want to let anything break her focus.

          Her eyes shifted to her left as she peered at Bullwhip. She saw the smirk his mouth held onto, and she sighed silently. He never knew when to take danger seriously. Even as a child he had always thought he was invincible. No matter. Maybe it'll still work out in our favor. That thought consoled her, as she realized that, if Nightfire believed the two of them thought they could kill him, then they still held the edge.       

          Duo and Bullwhip came to a halt halfway between the doors and the steps leading to Nightfire's throne. There was no need to put him on the defensive. Coming any closer might make him think that they were trying to come within striking distance. No. What she needed now was an overconfident Nightfire, one who let his guard down when in the company of those he considered to be no more than ants. So they continued to stand, as if frozen, mocking the many stone pillars with their own unmoving bodies, their eyes staring into Nightfire's mechanical blood red eye.

          That eye would have sent a chill through most people, as it glared at her, but Duo was already ice, her heart frozen from the blizzard that blew within her, created by the deaths of so many she had held dear. She would use that blizzard though, and put out his fire.

          Like statues they continued to stand in place, as both of Nightfire's eyes stared back at them.

          "Why have you come?" Nightfire asked, as if annoyed by their presence. "Is it to swear fealty to me?"

          Bullwhip let out a small laugh.

          Duo's eyes shifted, and she glanced over at Bullwhip. She silently prayed that he would do no more than laugh. She did not want to provoke him. Not yet anyway.

          As she continued watching Bullwhip, she was glad to see that he was again a statue.

          Good, she thought. At least he was sticking to the plan, for the most part anyway.

          Duo placed one hand over her chest, and she extended her other arm as she bowed deeply, letting go of all her anger, making sure her voice was nothing more than a monotone.

          "We have come to kill you." Duo's eyes once again shifted to Bullwhip. He was not bowing. She only hoped that same smirk was still painted on his face. That would be enough, or at least she hoped it would be. Duo regained the posture of a soldier, her back straight and aligned with her legs as she stared into Nightfire's eyes, making sure she held his attention. "Lord Nightfire."

          Duo did not see Nightfire's impenetrable shield surround him. What she did see was a smile forming at his lips.

          Nightfire let out a small laugh, proving that he was not taking them seriously at all, just as Duo planned. 

          A glimmer of light passed between Duo and Bullwhip. She barely saw it. To her eyes it was no more than a blur of light that lasted only a fraction of a second, but she felt the gust of wind that trailed far behind, her short hair pulled forward as the wind raced past her. It was trying to catch up, but the race had already been won, as the spinning ball of electricity, which she knew had been thrown by Flash, crashed into Nightfire.

          The sound was deafening. It screamed at Duo, but she did not look away, her eyes only narrowing slightly as a cloud of smoke erupted around Nightfire.

          Duo smiled. She glanced at Bullwhip, sighing slightly when she saw that a frown had pulled the corners of his mouth downward.

          So he wanted to be the hero, she thought, but as she looked again at the cloud of smoke, she realized that he would have to be satisfied with simply having seen the end of Nightfire.

          Behind her, soft boots announced every step, echoing loudly, as someone approached from the rear. Duo did not have to look back to know it was Flash. He knew how to move silently, yet he walked as though he were entering a ballroom and he wanted every eye on him.

          "Pah. Told you I could do it. Don't even know why we allowed him to rule for the past six years." Flash sounded overconfident, as always. The man never saw a battle he thought he could not win. Whether he fought Mech Guards, or bounty hunters, he believed he would always come out on top, but he seemed to fight his hardest whenever it was for a woman's heart, always abandoning it though, after taking his prize.

          She had always thought of Flash as a good comrade, but a horrible influence, given the way Bullwhip always attempted to surpass him in everything.   

          Flash ended his victory walk as he took a spot next to Duo. She half expected him to put a hand on her back, letting it trail downward, until the point of her blastwhip was at his neck, reminding him that his life was worth more than his pride.

          But he simply watched the smoke continue to rise, his left arm cupping his right elbow, while his thumb and index finger on his right hand slowly stroked his short beard.

          "You know…" He stopped stroking his beard as he leaned his head toward Duo. She turned her head slightly to look at him, and to keep an eye on his hands. "…if my power was then, what it is now, I would have ended that war, in a flash."

          He is way too pretty, Duo thought, as she caught herself gazing into his hazel eyes.

          "Really?" Duo said, tearing her eyes away from Flash, and looking once again into the wall of smoke.

          As the cloud of smoke thinned, Duo could see the dust swirling about, fleeing from Nightfire, as a ball of wind rotated around the half-man, half-machine. He seemed as though he stood within a spinning glass bubble. The bubble was tinted blood red, but the added color was not enough to obscure the view of the man within, or the demon within, as she liked to think of him.

          How could he have gotten his shield up so quickly? The question sickened her, and it led her to the answer that taking Nightfire down might be as hard as she had first believed.

          Duo let her blastwhips extend, as she saw sparks beginning to dance between Flash's fingertips. Looking to her left she saw a smile on Bullwhip's face, and she sighed once more. A prolonged fight with Nightfire was too dangerous. She did not want the price of victory to be attending anyone's funeral, or having anyone attending hers.

          "So then it is just you four fools," Nightfire said, as he looked to his left.

          Duo's eyes narrowed, as Drake stepped out from behind the shadow of a pillar. 

          Infrared vision, she thought, sighing silently. How nice of him to upgrade his mechanical eye, along with his Mechs.

          Nightfire shifted his gaze, and Duo once more stared into a red glowing eye.

          "It seems you rebels still do not realize who is king." Duo was given no time to reply, as Nightfire placed an exclamation point on his words. Not by raising his voice, but by extending his arm toward her. Red wind collected around the palm of his hand in an instant, flames tinted the same color as his shield erupting from it, burning upward, as soon as the spinning ball was complete.

          The flaming ball of wind shot out, passing through his shield as though it were not there, racing toward Duo, the flames screaming for her death. 

          She dodged it easily, Bullwhip following her into a tuck and roll to their left.

          Flash chose the opposite direction, as all three were already poised on the balls of their feet ready to attack or dodge, if Nightfire sent another volley.

          Nightfire, was up now, his throne behind him, as he began walking down the steps, red wind continuing to form a bubble around him. He stopped once his foot touched the marble floor.  

          Duo sighed. Plan C... already. 

 

 

              _______________

 

 

          Orrin's eyes saw the wind begin forming in front of Nightfire, watched it collect and rotate, witnessed as it encircled Nightfire and allowed the spinning ball of electricity to come no closer than a few feet, but that did not prepare Orrin for what he felt. The pressure that attempted to push him away from the planet became erratic, attacking him from all sides with differing degrees of intensity.

          Orrin endured it, but when Nightfire hurled red wind at Duo, a denser and more powerful wave of pressure crashed against him. Orrin felt as though he were a ship caught in a storm. A storm that came to life when that spinning red globe surrounded Nightfire. A storm that sent walls of water crashing into him each time Nightfire sent forth a fiery ball of wind. He tried his best to stabilize himself as the quartet that entered the room launched a new attack.

          Drake moved quickly. Too quickly for most to see, but he could not outrun Orrin's eyes. A loud boom was born as Drake's fist slammed against Nightfire's shield. The blood red shield flexed inward only inches, as the wind continued to rotate around Nightfire.

          Nightfire extended an arm toward Drake, and another fiery ball of wind shot out. Drake retreated only to return from a different angle, hurling his fist into the crimson shield once more. Again he was chased away by a fiery ball of wind, and again he returned from a different angle. This cat and mouse game continued twice more, as Drake retreated further and further each time, giving himself a longer head start with each new attempt, but Orrin could see the frustration building on Drake's face, as his fist pushed only a few inches further with each new attempt.

          Drake's eyes narrowed, and he retreated to the large doors, where he stood for a moment looking downward, concentrating on yet another thing Orrin could not see.

          Sparks flew, as Duo attempted to cut through Nightfire's shield, the razor edge of her blastwhip showering the floor with sparks as it ran across the surface of the crimson shield.

          On Nightfire's other side, Flash began firing multiple spinning balls of electricity, as he dodged fiery balls of wind. Singularly each ball of light pushed no further than an inch into Nightfire's shield, but Flash sent them one behind another, groups of them flexing the crimson shield inward almost half a foot at times.

          Flash threw himself to the ground, dark marble passing under him quickly as he skidded across the floor, a last ditch effort to avoid several flaming balls of wind that were aimed at him, the last one passing only inches above his head as he continued to fire balls of electricity in Nightfire's direction.

          Drake looked up again at Nightfire, and he launched himself forward, Orrin almost losing sight of him as he ran at nearly twice the speed he did before.

          The sound of Drake's hand crashing into Nightfire's shield was so loud that for a moment Orrin forgot about the pressure that thrashed against him, but he could only forget for a moment, as another wave of pressure hit him and he focused hard to maintain his view.

          Drake's fist pushed almost a foot into Nightfire's shield before stopping. Coming only a third of the way to the half-man, half-machine within, Drake seemed to be trying to use every muscle to push his fist even further, but he gained no more than an inch.

          Nightfire smiled, and Drake quickly retreated, narrowly dodging a ball of red wind fired at him.

          Bullwhip casually walked onto the carpet. He kept his right hand in his pocket, as he eyed Nightfire with a sidelong glare. Nightfire's eyes tightened, but Orrin could not help but smile at the boy's boldness. Red wind gathered in Nightfire's palm. It grew to twice the size of all the others he had previously fired.

          Flames finally erupted, trailing behind the ball of wind as it raced toward Bullwhip.

          Bullwhip's left hand came up swiftly in one motion, his blastwhip cutting the larger ball of wind in half and causing it to explode into two small clouds of smoke. Bullwhip's eyes were closed now, his hand still high in the air, as if daring Nightfire to shoot at him again.

          Wind began gathering in Nightfire's palm. This time it grew even larger than the last, and the red flames were given little time to live before being fired.

          Bullwhip's left hand came down swiftly, cutting the ball of red wind again in half, causing it to explode into two larger clouds of smoke. Bullwhip's eyes were now open, and he faced Nightfire, glaring at him, as though the boy believed he was Nightfire's equal.

          He extended his arm toward Nightfire, his blastwhip retracting until it extended only a foot past his hand. Taking his right hand out of his pocket, Bullwhip wrapped his fingers tightly around his left wrist. His blastwhip began to spin with incredible speed, while a high pitch noise advertised its lethal intent.

          Nightfire's lips drew away from his teeth, showing a jaw clenched in rage. He extended both arms in Bullwhip’s direction, as he began firing a steady stream of fiery red balls of wind at Bullwhip, but Duo and Flash began intercepting each one, causing them to explode before they reached Bullwhip. The constant explosions began creating a large cloud of smoke, cutting off their line of sight.

          Flash seemed as though he were firing aimlessly into the cloud of smoke, hoping that his balls of light would connect with Nightfire's fiery balls of wind. Duo seemed to be doing the same, as both her blastwhips slashed back and forth frantically within the dark cloud of smoke.

          One fiery ball of wind, however, did break through Flash's and Duo's gauntlet, pushing aside the smoke as it emerged and came into view.

          Drake came from behind. Jumping over Bullwhip, and burying the ball of wind into the marble floor with his fist. He was crouched down on one knee, giving Bullwhip a clear path to Nightfire, and Bullwhip took it.

          He launched his spinning blastwhip into the cloud of smoke. It emerged on the other side, Nightfire's eyes widening slightly as it crashed into his shield.

          Nightfire's shield flexed inward a foot and a half before stopping Bullwhip's spinning blastwhip. It continued to spin, as it tried to drill deeper into the shield, but it moved no further inward toward its goal.

          His arms now crossed under his chest, Nightfire's eyes watched, as Bullwhip's blastwhip spun futilely trying to reach the man within the crimson bubble. Nightfire slowly shook his head.

          "You still do not understand." Orrin heard Nightfire's words clearly, even though they were spoken in whisper.

          Bullwhip's blastwhip had vanished. He held his left arm with his right hand, glaring defiantly at Nightfire.

          Nightfire extended both arms in Bullwhip's direction, as red wind began gathering within the palms of his hands. Suddenly he merged the two, Orrin noticing that the fire that erupted from the wind was a darker red than before.

          It sped towards Bullwhip and Drake. Duo's blastwhip sliced it at an angle, but the fiery red ball of wind merely split into two, one careening upward at an angle toward Orrin, while the other sped downward, crashing into the floor in front of Drake.

          Flames danced behind a wind that raced toward Orrin, its red tint adding color to its malicious intent. Orrin made no attempt to move as the flaming ball of red wind flew past him, coming only inches away from his face. Heat from the flames reached out, clawing at Orrin's face and stabbing at his eyes, as he first narrowed and then closed his eyes entirely, in order to shield them from the fire's touch.

 

 

SCENE 4

 

          For a moment, Orrin's eyes felt as though he stood too close to a sun. When he finally opened them, he still felt the fire's enduring kiss, as water continued to collect at the bottom of his eyelids. The fire was like pins on the surface of his eyes, while the pressure that constantly pushed at him attempted to hammer those pins deeper into his pupils.

          The burning dissipated, but refused to retreat altogether from its continued assault. Orrin attempted to ignore it as he finally took in his surroundings, his head whipping from one side to another, as grey metal smiled at him. No. It mocked him, as he found himself once again within the airplane hangar. 

          The painting, which Orrin had become a part of again, had not changed since he had left. The tall man, who wore his sword comfortably over his shoulder, watched a woman, whose world was still contained within the contraption she worked on.

          Why have I returned here? A specter annoyingly echoed Orrin's thoughts.

          Orrin shook his head slowly.

          "I must find my way back." His whisper was as much for himself, as it was to get rid of the ghost that had materialized only to shake his concentration.

          Orrin immediately closed his eyes. He searched for the path back to Nightfire, but he realized the importance of the decision that would be made here as well. So for another brief moment he listened to their chatter, allowing his ears to focus on these two, while his mind sought out another.  

 

                            

              _______________

 

 

          Forcing himself to stand as still as stone while he watched Kayla was difficult for Quinn, mostly because of the fact that he knew she would finish at any moment. His feet danced uncontrollably, as he lightly kicked the floor, testing the sturdiness of his boots for the third time. Quinn's gaze now tended to linger longer on Kayla's machine than it did her, as he tried his best to share his view evenly between both.

          An itch, born from somewhere deep within, worked its way to his neck, and he unconsciously clawed at it, as his eyes once again searched both bay doors for any sign of movement. Realizing his hands were at his neck, he pulled them away in frustration, tucking his sweaty palms back under arms that folded themselves under his chest.

          Maybe if I knew what she was building. The thought bounced around irritably in Quinn's head.

          Asking meant he wanted to know, wanting to know meant he was concerned, and he would not admit that this contraption created by a girl he had helped raise, made him nervous. So he buried the thought, digging the hole deep and covering it up with the lie that he was simply interested in Kayla's work. Satisfied with his lie, he smiled as he pulled his eyes away from the machine and looked at Kayla once more.

          "Kayla, what is this device you are working on?" Quinn drowned his shaky nerves in confidence, as he spoke, or at least he hoped he did. 

          "An Ion Generator," Kayla answered. She did not even glance up at Quinn, her hands continuing to hide within the open panel. His hopes of not showing fear were gone, along with his smile which was now replaced by a wary frown. "If it works, we won't need battery packs anymore."

          "If it works?" Quinn said, but he nervously eyed the machine, his heart beating faster by the second. 

          Kayla closed the panel on the Ion Generator. The clang of the small metal door closing made Quinn almost reach for his sword. Almost.

          "Done," Kayla said, rubbing her hands together as she seemed to bask in the glory of her achievement. She looked at Quinn. Nodding and giving her best smile. Kayla looked back at her machine. "Now for a test run."

          "One moment." Quinn held his index finger up in front of him. He eyed Kayla's hand, as it stopped just short of pressing a green button that had the word, "Start" written above it.

          As if he were on a midnight stroll, Quinn began walking calmly toward the bay door to his left, his boots making no noise as they moved across the concrete floor, but his stroll soon turned into a race, and he sprinted the rest of the distance. Quinn quickly hid behind the bay door opening, peeking out only to stare at a woman, who now glared at him, her lips pressed firmly together. "Proceed!" he called to her.

          Kayla reminded him of a swan, her proud chin held high, exposing her slender neck for all to see as she turned her murderous gaze away from him. She sniffed loudly, turning gracefully toward her Ion Generator and saying something about mocking her genius in a tone much too low for Quinn's ears to catch. 

          Quinn ducked his head behind the bay door, as Kayla's index finger pushed the green start button and he heard her Ion Generator come to life.

          No explosion?…Yet, he thought, as he slowly peeked out from behind the bay door once more.  

          Kayla appeared to have assumed the role of a proud mother, gazing happily at the Ion Generator as if it were her child, its almost silent hum reminiscent of a sleeping newborn.

          She turned to Quinn, the satisfied look on her face telling him that she had won this battle, as she extended her arm toward her contraption, displaying her well behaved child.

          "See, nothing to worry about."

          But her child finally woke, wailing as its low hum began to raise in pitch.

          It reached out for its mother as lightning crackled behind Kayla, striking the floor only a few inches away from her feet. Kayla yelped, her own high pitched scream attempting to rival her child's as she looked behind her, drawing one leg up and pressing her arms tightly against her chest.

          Another bolt of lightning struck the floor near Kayla, as Quinn ducked his head behind the bay door. He peeked out only a moment later, but the Ion Generator had been abandoned. Now his eyes searched for a missing Kayla.

          "Nothing to worry about indeed. Now where has that girl run off to?" he whispered, while his eyes searched for any sign of where Kayla hid. A hole began growing within his stomach, filling itself with anxiety as his eyes checked every mound, every hiding place, but he still saw no sign of her. "I hope she has not gotten herself hur--"

          "Has it stopped?"

          Quinn jumped out from behind the bay door, shocked nerves causing his hand to fumble at his shoulder before grasping the hilt of his sword, as he turned to face… Kayla?

          Eyes peeked out from the darkness as she stared at Quinn, her back pressed against the wall of the bay door, her features partially cloaked by the shadow created by the light of a full moon.

          Quinn knew those eyes, and he realized he also knew who the voice belonged to. He released the grip his hand held on his sword, letting it slide back into its sheath, as he instead attempted to take hold of his nerves.

          "Quinn, has it stopped?" she whispered again, this time with more eagerness. 

          This girl was a demon, one who hid behind a pretty smile and a cream and pink sweater. She could at least give an old man enough time to catch his breath before demanding answers.

          He opened his mouth in an attempt to answer, but another bolt of electricity cut him off as it crashed against the floor. He quickly leaped behind the bay door, placing his back against the wall just as Kayla did. 

          Quinn turned his face to look at her. However, even as she cowered behind the bay door only a foot away from him, her features were still indistinguishable. So with only a touch of anger, he spoke to the silhouette next to him.

          "Does it appear to be stopping?" Quinn answered.

          Quinn watched Kayla move in front of him, in order to peek out into the hangar.

          She simply looked for a moment, and then she pulled herself back, standing next to him once more as she leaned her back against the bay door. Quinn still could not see much of her face, but he saw the uncertainty in her eyes.

          "It’s probably just warming up," Kayla said. Quinn heard the nervousness in her voice, which only succeeded in making him nervous as well.

          Quinn peeked out at the Ion Generator, as it now only appeared to be showering the ground with sparks. For the moment the generator had calmed down, but he eyed it warily, a sense of danger welling up in his chest, as he could not bring himself to believe Kayla's creation would actually behave.

          "Yes. I do believe it is just warming up," Quinn whispered.

 

 

SCENE 5

 

          Orrin found the man and the woman amusing. He would have stayed to listen further, but he had already found the tail end of the path that led back to Nightfire. Quickly following the road to its end, he opened his eyes.

          The increased pressure almost made him regret returning to this place, as the pins that felt like they were only on the surface of his eyes dug deeper, causing his eyes to burn once more.

          Orrin's eyes begged to be shielded from the scorching pain, but he forced them to remain open, as he looked upon the quartet that battled Nightfire.

          The four fought ferociously against Nightfire, attacking and retreating, only to attack yet again in a different location. They appeared to be looking for a weak spot, but Orrin could see that their attempts were futile, as Nightfire's spinning shield absorbed every attack, leaving him unscathed within a barrier of blood red wind, which was contrary to the appearance of his attackers.  

          Burn marks advertised where each Raider had been hit, while bruised skin displayed the damage as each one of them bled from one limb or another. Bullwhip had been the unluckiest of the group. He had been scorched on the left side of his abdomen and on his right shoulder.

          "This isn't working!" Flash yelled, as he spun to dodge a fiery ball of wind, while shooting his own ball of electricity at Nightfire.

          Duo raised her blastwhips high into the air.

          "Plan D!" she screamed, as she let her blastwhips crash into the floor directly in front of Nightfire, causing a wall of dust and debris to rise up.

          Duo and Bullwhip retreated, meeting on the red carpet in the middle of the room. Drake quickly joined them. Standing behind Duo and Bullwhip, he placed one hand on each of their shoulders, as all three stared in Nightfire's direction.

          Flash quickly took his place on the red carpet as well, choosing to stand between Nightfire and the trio, his hands already holding two spinning balls of electricity, as he kept his eyes locked on the dust cloud, which was already starting to clear.

          Flash pointed one palm upward and the other downward, as the spinning balls of light floated a few inches away from his hands. He closed his eyes, and the balls of light began darting around him at speeds that even Orrin had a hard time keeping track of.

          The balls of light spun so fast around Flash that it appeared he had his own shield of light, but it was not circular. Orrin could see the shape was that of a diamond. He continued to stare at Flash, and, even as his eyes screamed from the pain, he looked through him as well.

          Orrin saw the two spinning balls of electricity, but now he noticed that one held a positive charge and the other a negative charge. On top of that Flash's body parts were constantly alternating its charge from positive to negative, sending the balls of light away from him at an angle, as he repelled them, and then pulling them toward him at another angle, as he attracted them.

          "A clever trick, but his shield is not as solid as Nightfire's," the ghostly copy said, telling Orrin what he already knew. Gaps could be seen in Flash's shining shield, no matter how fast the spinning balls of light sped around him.

          Behind Flash something odd was occurring to Duo and Bullwhip. Orrin looked closer, and he saw that Drake seemed to be gathering energy from the air around him. He was then transferring the energy to Duo and Bullwhip, their bodies drinking in the power as their blastwhips swelled in size.

          Before the dust cleared, Nightfire extended both arms in front of him, and he began shooting flaming balls of wind at the quartet. However, as each one hit Flash's shield they bounced off, redirecting their trajectory toward a wall, ceiling or floor. A few ricocheted right back at Nightfire, but they were absorbed by his own shield.

          When the dust finally cleared, Nightfire's eyes narrowed, and he increased his rate of fire. Columns crashed to the ground, threatening to bring the ceiling down with them, as balls of red wind ricocheted off of Flash's shield, smashing into everything around him.

          Duo, Bullwhip and Drake, however, remained unscathed as they stood directly behind Flash. 

          Beads of sweat tumbled down Flash's cheeks, as the balls of light continued circling at their fast pace, but one gust of fiery wind managed to sneak by Flash's rotating shield. It crashed into his shoulder, and Flash cried out in pain as blood began soaking one side of his arm, but the balls of light did not slow their rotation, in fact they sped up, as sweat began streaming down his face faster than the blood that ran down his arm.

          Duo and Bullwhip's blastwhips continued to swell, but worry caused creases on their brows as they watched Flash.

          "How long can Flash keep this up?" a specter asked Orrin, as another fiery ball of wind snuck through his shield, hitting him in his thigh. 

          "That is most likely what his friends are worrying about as well," Orrin answered. He was actually saddened to see the ghosts vanish this time, as they provided a moment's distraction from the increasing pain in his eyes.

          Yet another blast passed through a gap in Flash's shield, striking him in the chest, but he simply grunted, maintaining his shield while blood continued to soak his clothes.

          Bullwhip extended one arm, and his now larger blastwhip began rotating faster than it had before. Duo held her blastwhip high in the air, the scythe she formed growing larger and sharper.

          Orrin could see that the rotation of the balls of light were beginning to slow, as Flash seemed to be having trouble holding himself upright.  

          The edge of Duo's scythe threatened to cut the ceiling, as it still continued to grow in size, and the rotation on Bullwhip's blastwhip had again doubled in speed. Both weapons carrying edges that were now no thicker than a few atoms.  

          Another fiery ball of wind hit Flash, and he staggered back. One of the two balls of light exited its orbit around Flash, racing upward and smashing into the ceiling. With only one ball of light now circling Flash, his shield was as useless as his legs, which looked like they were ready to give out.

          Nightfire smiled.

          "Flash! Get down!" Duo yelled, and Flash seemed to have heard her, as he threw himself to the ground.

          Duo brought her scythe down on Nightfire, and Bullwhip's blastwhip spun faster than ever as it sped towards Nightfire.

          The noise as their blastwhips crashed into Nightfire's shield was deafening. The smoke that rose acted like a curtain, separating friends and foe from any line of sight.

          Bullwhip and Drake stood with their hands on their knees as both looked like they were ready to collapse. Duo breathed heavily, but she walked forward, her gaze downward as she searched the floor for her comrade.

          Duo stopped, and she knelt down within the outskirts of the wall of smoke. She put her hand on Flash's wrist. Then she put her ear close to Flash's lips. Orrin's eyes looked closer. He could see Flash's heart beating, but for some reason he was not breathing. 

          Duo turned to face Flash, her lips only inches away from his. She took a deep breath. Then punched Flash in the stomach. Flash's eyes shot open as he gasped for air. He rolled onto his side, his breathing becoming more normal with each passing second.

          "You know there are a lot nicer ways to wake a man up," Flash whispered, after rolling onto his back.

          "Maybe I'll try one, when you're not holding your breath," Duo said, and Flash smiled as he and Duo stood up.

          They both stared at the smoke as it continued to dissipate.

          "Pah." Flash waved his hand at the cloud of smoke. "He wasn't that tough. I could've beat him on my own," Flash said, while seeming to only be able to bring his voice up to a whisper.

          Orrin smiled for a moment. He had begun to enjoy watching the quartet, but the pressure that continued to make his eyes burn made Orrin pity the group. His eyes looked away as four balls of fiery red wind burst out from behind the still heavily draped curtain of smoke, each one racing toward a different Raider.

          They had neither the time nor the energy to dodge. Assuming the role of statues, they simply watched as the balls of flaming wind hit them.

          Each Raider was thrown back from the impact, and each Raider crashed to floor, either unconscious or moments away from passing out. 

          Except Duo. She had already rolled off of her back, her knees and elbows supporting her weight as she tried to breathe steadily.

          "No," Duo whispered. She shook her head while placing one hand on the floor. "You won't turn me into a liar."

          She looked up at Nightfire. The feral look in her eye made her seem more wolf than woman, as she planted one foot on the floor.

          "I said I'd kill you," Duo whispered. She looked like an animal that had been reborn, and like all animals at birth she struggled to stand, her legs shaking as she tried to gain every inch of her height. Her blastwhips extended outward from her hands. "And I always keep my promises."

          Nightfire shot a simple smile back at Duo, and a fiery ball of red wind, but her blastwhips cut through it easily.

          Duo charged Nightfire, her vigor renewed as she dodged or cut through ball after ball of burning red wind. Moving only forward, Duo quickly closed the distance between her and Nightfire. She then jumped, her blastwhips forming into a scythe above--

          Nightfire extended an arm toward Duo, and threads of red wind quickly extended from Nightfire's red shield, grasping her neck tightly while it held her in mid-air.

          Duo seemed like a wild cat as she clawed at the crimson cords gripping her throat. First with her fingers, and then with her blastwhips. She tried desperately to pry tendrils of red wind from around her neck, but as Nightfire held her firmly in place, she began to appear more like a kitten, whose claws were of no use.

          "You still do not understand the extent of my power." There was no anger in Nightfire's tone. He spoke as though it were simple truth.

          Duo continued to struggle, until it seemed her strength was nearing its end. She began a laugh that ended in a coughing fit.

          "One day someone more powerful than you will come, and he'll take Crysis City away from you, just as you took it from us," Duo said, as she coughed again. She then smiled. "I just wish I would have lived to see that day."

          Nightfire's eyes narrowed.

          "Only the weak pray for a savior. The strong bend destiny to their will." Anger coated every word that left Nightfire's mouth.

          Nightfire's eyes widened, and he seemed to look at Duo with what Orrin could only describe as pity. He let her drop to the marble floor. Duo landed with a thud, collapsing as she lay sprawled across the dark tiles.

          "I will let you live, but only to realize that this day you pray for will never come." Nightfire's shield vanished. With nothing to shield him from attack, he turned his back to his enemies, and he walked to his throne. It had survived the battle intact and untouched, its plain appearance seeming to outshine everything else in the now ruined room.

          Nightfire sat quietly. He spoke quietly, as his finger leaned against a button on the arm of the chair.

          "Hidden," Nightfire whispered.

          "Yes my lord." A voice sounding similar to the woman dressed in all black replied through an unseen speaker on the chair.

          "I have four more volunteers for the mines. See to their transport." 

          "At once my lord."

          Orrin continued to watch Nightfire, trying to see beyond the top layer to where the source of his power originated. Still unable to see where the power that passed through Nightfire came from, he attempted to get a closer look.

          As he moved against the force that still pushed at him, the burning at his eyes steadily increased. Orrin moved closer to Nightfire by inches, until he was only a foot away from the man and only a second away from blinking, his eyes narrowing so much from the searing pain that his view became no more than a thin slit. Orrin's eyes cried as water filled that slit, turning what lay in front of him into a blur. 

          The Raiders had failed against Nightfire, but Orrin was not about to let himself suffer the same fate. He would push aside the curtain that hid the birthplace of Nightfire's power, rendering this mystery solved.

          The searing pain continued to restrict Orrin's vision to only a watery blur, but he forced them open against the tide, allowing the full force of the pressure to assault him. His eyes screamed from the pain, but all he had to do was focus. Focus and look downward through the doorway that allowed Nightfire to access a power that made him nearly invincible to the mortals on this planet. 

          So he did, his vision clearing as he focused with all the strength left to him. For a moment Orrin thought he saw another being, or merely the shape of one, but all he really remembered was the searing pain, and his eyes snapping shut, in order to preserve his sanity.

 

 

SCENE 6

 

          Orrin forced his eyelids open, but he knew he was elsewhere. The pressure was no longer overwhelming, but it nagged at him with its constant push.

          Beaten by the same man Orrin's fate mirrored The Raiders, but at least he saw the outcome, and he also wished to see the one made here, as an upset Ion Generator continued to throw its tantrum, pelting the ground with bolts of electricity, while also showering the concrete floor with sparks.

          Orrin's eyes still burned, and not even the tears that cascaded down his face could quench the fire. He had no more energy to fight against the unknown force as it slowly began leading him further and further away from the planet.

          So, as Orrin was slowly ushered out into the cold dull cosmos, he again opened his senses to the scene in front of him, hoping that he would get to see the decision made here as well.    

          Quinn and Kayla seemed like mice checking to see if a cat still roamed the kitchen, as they continued to peek out from behind the bay door of the hangar. The fear in their eyes was identical, and different. Quinn's eyes carried a hint of anger, as he stared at the out-of-control generator, while Kayla's eyes held a dash of pity, as though she hoped to save the machine.

          "Ok. I think it's done warming up. Maybe we should turn it off." Kayla's tone was a mix of concern and urgency.

          "We?" Quinn replied, as he looked downward at Kayla, who chose to peek her head out right below his. Kayla's eyes shifted toward Quinn.

          "If it blows." Fear began creeping into her voice as her eyes ran back to the generator once more, "the blast radius'll be equivalent to five city blocks."

          Quinn sighed.

          "Then I must end it," he whispered, drawing his sword and stepping out from behind the hangar entrance. Quinn stared at the generator as though nothing else existed.

          "Okay. All you have to do is pull that plu--" Kayla was cut short as another bolt of electricity crashed against the concrete floor. Quinn sprinted toward the Ion Generator. The man moved fast, too fast for Orrin's scorched eyes to follow.

          Quinn's legs propelled him forward at such a speed that the after-images he left behind lasted a fraction of a second before disappearing.     

          He finally stood in one place, once his sword cut through the power cord, putting the Ion Generator to sleep almost immediately. 

          Orrin felt the small tide of fate disperse.

          So this was the decision. Orrin's ears heard his voice coming from the specter to his left. Quinn held his sword in front of him, as though ready to pounce, if the Ion Generator showed any signs of life.

          Kayla walked up to Quinn. She placed her hands on her hips, and Orrin sensed that Quinn might be in even more danger now.

          "I told you to unplug the cord. Not cut it," Kayla complained, as she pointed her finger at Quinn, "Why are you always overreacting?"

          "That contraption should never be given life again," Quinn replied.

          "Do you think any of Nightfire's goons saw that light show?" Kayla nervously looked to her left, and then to her right.

          "We should not stay to find out," Quinn advised, sheathing his sword smoothly while eyeing both bay doors. 

          "Yeah, you're right," Kayla agreed, and as if there was some signal to start a race, she ran, but Quinn quickly caught up. "We can come back tomorrow to fix it." 

          "We?" Quinn replied.   

          Orrin's laugh lasted no longer than a breath. It was the only laugh he could manage while his eyes sizzled in pain.

          Orrin was more than a few miles away from the pair, and now the sound of their words were invisible to him. A blue speck caught his eye, but he was too exhausted to see it clearly. He could tell that it stirred near the location of Kayla's Ion Generator, and a feeling told him that there was something very wrong with that light. Another untold secret hidden on this planet.

          Orrin wished he could have investigated this as well, but now he was simply a leaf in the wind, moving at the whim of the mysterious force that continued to blow at him, driving him upward, forever upward toward space, where he would once again be shut out to the mysteries of this peculiar planet.

          Orrin looked up, and the stars looked down on him. He realized that this constellation of stars belonged in a different region of space. The accumulation of stars were called different names by different species.

          "Kalai Min." "Tardashi." "The Milky Way." Three ghostly copies of Orrin recalled the names easily, names given by the only three intelligent life forms that inhabited that region of space. 

          Orrin watched the doll that he created in order to explore the planet unravel, as it reached the upper atmosphere. The hole he had created in the clouds surrounding the planet had already sealed itself, giving Orrin once again a view of only the red clouds that barred his sight.

          He was left only with the burning pain he felt in his eyes, and the three ghosts who apparently did not disappear along with the doll. He knew he would not be able to force his way past the dark clouds surrounding this planet for some time.

          So he decided to solve a different mystery. One that nagged at him. One that seemed impossible. One that brought a smile to Orrin's face, as he blinked, and vanished.

 

 

SCENE 7 

 

          Orrin reappeared above a blue planet. It was a different world in a different galaxy, but he suspected that it would be similar to the world that left him with only questions, and a bit of pain.

          The burning sensation in his eyes had lessened. The time Orrin had spent in hyperspace traveling to this new galaxy left his eyes with only the echo of what it felt like to be set aflame, but he still squinted slightly, as his eyes searched for a certain pattern of stars.

          He found it, and for a moment he stared at the long band of stars that shined dimly in the distance, what the beings on the blue planet below called,

          The Milky Way, one ghost whispered, as he stared at stars that were light-years away.

          Orrin's gaze turned toward the planet. In some areas, clouds gathered heavily, obscuring the view of the surface below. In other places thin streaks of white stretched out over the surface, those clouds seeming more like snakes as they slithered slowly in whatever direction the wind blew.

          With these clouds, Orrin easily spied a surface that seemed to be dominated by oceans. Deep blue seas, whose depths harbored some of the more interesting creatures on that planet. The land, however, was sparse compared to the deep salt water, but he could see mountains and flora where the sand had beaten back the sea.

          Earth, a voice whispered, as another ghost spoke Orrin's thoughts.

          I fear that this planet will give me very few of the answers I seek, another specter replied sadly, his voice no louder than the first.  

          Orrin circled the planet, eyes searching for any sign of red clouds, but as he expected, he did not discover even the smallest sign of crimson.

          The one they call Nightfire does not seem to be among them. Orrin's thought gave birth to another ghost, and he felt somewhat relieved at the specter's words. He did not think he was ready to go another round with the ominous being he knew only as Nightfire. What he wanted now were answers. Not pain. The world here would answer very few of Orrin's questions. He knew that even before he had decided to travel to this planet, but few was better than none.   

          Orrin's mind quickly began forming his doll just below the upper atmosphere, threads of air stitching themselves together until he had created the doll in his own likeness. The doll flew downward, stopping only a few feet above the water. Looking around him, he witnessed an endless blue ocean, or at least it would have seemed endless to anyone without his sight. Orrin was hundreds of miles from the nearest city, but he could see beach brown sand, as well as the buildings beyond them. 

          He chose a direction, and the world simply became a blur. Blue water became brown sand and brown sand turned to a mix of asphalt and concrete, Orrin stopping only for brief moments, in order to scan the faces of the people who populated the area.

          Orrin was glad Earth had large cities. People densely packed into small areas made it easier for him to maximize his search, while minimizing the amount of land he had to cover. He had only been searching for an hour, but he had already covered most of the west coast of what was known as America.

          As he continued searching, the cars and trucks made Orrin seem like a headless ghost for the briefest of moments, his face passing through sunroofs, windshields and doors, in order to check the faces of the people within. With each vehicle, building and house that he searched unsuccessfully, his disappointment grew. 

          Orrin knew searching this way tedious, but it was the only way to prove if his theory was correct.

          Another two hours had gone by before he found her, but he did find her. Wide windows invited daylight into a small diner, framing Duo's face as she stood at the end of a table, her pen pressed firmly against a notepad, ready to scribble down an order, as soon as the two customers figured out what they wanted.

          Her clothes, however, had changed. The Duo, who Orrin viewed on that odd planet, wore a combination of black and purple. The woman standing before him wore a red blouse, whose sleeves extended only inches past her shoulder. Below the blouse a small black apron wrapped itself around the front of her waist, while tight black jeans advertised shapely legs. Red flats completed her ensemble as she stood with her back straight, attempting to gain all the height she was given.

          Orrin's eyes narrowed in annoyance as he noticed the sticker pasted on the right side of her chest and the black lettering that spelled out the name, Meagan.

          "She may not be--" a ghost began to complain.

          But Orrin did not even allow the specter to finish his thought before he began to look through the woman, his eyes viewing her on a molecular level, just as he did when she fought against Nightfire. It took Orrin only a few seconds to confirm that her DNA was identical to the Duo that he had seen on that odd planet, but he knew this was not the exact same Duo. The blizzard of anger that raged on the surface of the previous Duo's eyes was nowhere in sight. The eyes of the woman he looked at now held too much warmth. Too much joy.

          Looking even closer Orrin noticed one other difference. The Duo from that strange planet had an extra gene in her DNA strand that this Duo did not.

          However, the fact that their DNA was practically identical affirmed Orrin's suspicion that the strange planet was Earth. It was just from a different reality, which made the mystery even stranger because planets did not move between realities, only the Kalar did.

          Why was the planet in that distant galaxy and not in this one?

          Do those red clouds have anything to do with that planet being in this reality?

          What were those red clouds?

          Is that man they call Nightfire connected to clouds in some way?

          And why does that planet…

          The barrage of questions continued, filling Orrin's head and the space around him with so many ghosts that they quickly outnumbered the customers in the diner.

          Frustration forced creases to appear on his forehead as he realized that he could not give birth to a single answer.

          "I must view that odd planet once more. I will only acquire my answers there," Orrin whispered, half speaking to himself as he cupped his chin between his index finger and his thumb.

          But Orrin knew he could not do so at the moment. His eyes still had not healed completely from his previous foray on that odd planet. 

          It will take some time before my eyes gain the strength to view that odd planet once more, a ghost said.

          Do I stay here? another specter asked, as Orrin's eyes scanned the diner.

          "These humans have fought the same wars for centuries, there is nothing new about them," Orrin complained, slowly shaking his head and sighing. Watching those in power attempt to gain more power held little appeal anymore. He had seen it done thousands of times before on this planet, and he had very little interest in seeing it again.

          What if I watch one who is insignificant? a specter asked, drawing Orrin's eyes to it as it floated to his left.

          The thought of watching an intelligent insignificant being had never appealed to him before. There were short moments when he had watched unintelligent life, but they were always short moments. He had always been drawn to those whose decisions held the fate of many, but his eyes had drank from that cup long enough. This time he would sip from a different glass, and hopefully give himself something new to see.

          A slight smile touched Orrin's lips. The thought of the unknown was always appealing. He knew it would pale in comparison to what he saw on that other world, but it would have to do for now.

          Orrin allowed his eyelids to fall, and he stared into darkness, as his mind searched for the tides of fate. This time, however, he would go against the tide, traveling upstream, in order to find one person among many people whose fate rested on someone else's decision. And without fail he found it. A great tide encompassing the fate of millions rushed toward an area Orrin knew to be Washington, D.C., and as he had witnessed on several occasions in this country, decisions concerning many would be determined by a few politicians.

          Orrin's mind turned away from the Capitol, and he began following the tide back upstream, but as his mind traced the tide backward he felt another tide, one too large to ignore. However, as Orrin's mind drew closer, he noticed the tide was flooding in from outside Earth's atmosphere.

          How is this possible? a specter whispered in amazement.

          Orrin's mind peered in the direction of the flow of the tide, and he noticed that it stopped in the distance, swirling around a mass of people. He knew following this trail would only confront him with a new mystery, and right now he did not need more questions, what he wanted were answers. 

          But Orrin was never one to turn away from a mystery. So he followed that tide to a packed stadium, to a crowd that stared but dared not breathe, to a bike whose engine roared as its wheels grabbed at nothing but the air, and to a boy that turned flying into an art form.

 

 

SCENE 8

 

          Orrin along with a crowd of thousands watched a boy, who kept one hand on the handlebar of a dirt bike and the other hand on the seat. He held his legs outward as he soared through the air, moving further away from one dirt ramp, and closer to another.

          His clothes were light orange, but there were enough insignias and writing on his long sleeved jersey and his heavy nylon pants to add the word black to the outfits color description. An orange helmet, plagued by the same black insignias and writing, concealed his face and the upper half of his neck. On his downward descent, the boy quickly pulled his legs in, making sure that he was in the seated position, before his bike's tires landed at the top of the dirt ramp. He slowed as he rode down the ramp, holding his fist in the air and stopping at the bottom. The boy both pointed and looked upward, but when the boy's gaze moved downward to the dirt floor, Orrin could see the boy's sadness, just as plainly as if the boy wore no helmet at all.

          The fates of many swirled around this boy, growing with each passing second.

          Orrin looked upward, his eyes finding its way to a large banner hung on the ceiling.

           "Motocross and Skateboard Exhibition"

          Orrin knew it as a contest of daredevils, where contestants attempted to outdo each other, with death-defying stunts. 

          Orrin looked downward, but the boy had left, and a new biker positioned himself at the bottom of one of the dirt ramps.

          The new biker commenced, stylishly jumping his bike from one dirt ramp to the other, stopping after a few minutes and leaving the dirt stage as well, in order for another biker to perform his own jumps.

          Orrin knew the boy was getting closer to the entrance of the dirt stage, as each biker performed and then exited. 

          So this is the stage where the decision will be made, one specter said plainly.

          Orrin saw the boy coming to the entrance of the dirt ramp. He was curious to know more about a boy, who would make a decision that would affect millions on a different planet.

          First, Orrin needed to know the boy's name, and he knew he would only get that from one place within the stadium.

          The commentators.  

          Orrin turned toward the announce table, and flew off in the direction of a man and a woman, whose words flowed like water, hoping that he did not miss the one drop that contained the boy's name.

          Orrin positioned himself behind the commentators, hovering so close to the man and the woman that he could have been mistaken for a commentator as well, that is if anyone could actually see him. He made sure to keep an eye on the boy at the top of the entrance ramp, as the man began to speak again.

          "We're here in the second round of the Big Apple Motocross and Skateboard Exhibition, and this group of guys have really been putting on a show. Haven't they Lisa?"

          "Yes they have Bob, and none more so than the young man, Johnny Banks, now at the top of the ramp. At only eighteen years old he's..."

          So that is his name, another specter chimed in, as the commentators continued talking. There was nothing special about the boy's name. So what was so special about him? Orrin smiled. He would find out in a few moments when the decision was made.

          The boy zoomed down the ramp on his bike, then up another as he and his bike were sent soaring through the air. The boy lifted himself off of the bike, using the handlebars to perform a handstand, stretching his body straight upward for a full three seconds before pulling himself back into the seated position and then landing on another ramp. The boy sped down the ramp, quickly turning as he lined his bike up with another ramp. The boy wasted no time speeding off to the next ramp, traveling upward, and then skyward.

          After the boy's second jump, Orrin could tell that the bike was not just a machine, but an extension of the rider's body. The boy seemed too comfortable in the air, stretching his limbs with ease, as if gravity waited for him to agree when it was time to come down.

          The boy seemed like a bird, the bike his wings, the sky his road, until he rode backstage, joining the other riders who waited while another biker showcased his talent for flying.

          Orrin wondered whether he had missed something. He still felt the enormous amount of fate swirling around the boy. He knew a decision would be made.

          But when? a specter asked anxiously, as it appeared. Orrin watched the boy sit backstage. No longer on his bike, he sat in a corner, staring downward. The boy looked up with what appeared to be a practiced smile whenever another contestant congratulated him, looking down again once the person had walked away.

          Orrin continued watching, his patience growing thinner with each passing minute.

          The boy came out again. This time he rode a skateboard down rails and shorter ramps. The board flipped and spun inches below the boy's sneakers, only to right itself moments before the boy's feet landed back on it. 

          Orrin wondered if the board was mechanical. He wondered if there was some switch the boy pressed to make the board move the way it did, but when his eyes scanned the board, he saw only wood, metal and plastic.

          Orrin sighed slightly when the boy rode backstage. A small part of him wanted to see the boy continue performing on his board, but a larger part wanted to see the decision, which had still not been made.

          The boy came out twice more, in order to accept one gold and one silver medal. He had apparently performed better on a board than on a bike. The boy once again sat backstage, staring downward and producing that practiced smile that vanished when he thought the other contestants' eyes were no longer on him.

          The amount of fate swirling around the boy continued growing steadily. Orrin knew he would have to wait for whatever decision the boy was supposed to choose between.    Sighing heavily, he folded his legs, cupped his chin in one hand, and locked his eyes on the boy, promising himself that he would not blink, until the decision was made.

 

 

SCENE 9

 

          A near empty parking lot greeted Johnny, as a large metal door with the word, "EXIT," closed behind him. He had changed out of his nylon orange and black jersey, and now he wore a black sleeveless T-shirt that peeked out from behind a sleeveless orange hood. Grey cargo pants covered his legs, and lightly sagged against sneakers that sported a combination of black and orange.

          The two medals he had won were already tucked away, barely bulging from his pocket, where he had stuffed them. Johnny had waited until he thought all the fans and the other contestants had left, before walking himself and his bike out of the stadium. He wore his smile as easily as he wore any shirt, but, when he realized the parking lot had been abandoned, he let go of that smile, knowing that it felt wrong against his skin.

          Johnny closed his eyes, and he sighed heavily as he walked alongside his bike, exiting the parking lot and deciding to turn left, even though he knew the path that led to his house demanded that he turn right.

          Johnny studied the floor, as sidewalks turned into crosswalks and back again. He had no clue how far he had gone. Johnny only knew that he was getting closer. He, however, never dared raise his eyes, fearing that, if he glanced at a street sign, he would know how close he was and he might turn back again. Johnny had lost his nerve many times before, and every time he would run back the way he came, retracing his steps until he found himself gasping for air in front of his house. 

          But not this time. This time Johnny would avert his eyes, until he reached the destination he disliked the most. Not because he thought he would ever overcome his fear, but because he had to. Because, in his pocket, he had two medals that he desperately wanted his brother to see.

          The smell of cookies announced his arrival, but only to himself of course. The bake shop, Cookies by Candice, had cloaked the area with the smell of freshly baked cookies since early that morning, and it was already late in the afternoon. For most of Johnny's life the aroma of baked cocoa from Cookies by Candice made him want to go in and buy a chip or three or ten, but now the scent only created a pit in his stomach. A pit that quickly began to fill with fear and anger. A pit that only continued to fill, even though he knew it was at the point of bursting. The adverse feelings seemed to seep out, saturating every part of him.

          Johnny did not know whether he wanted to scream in terror or shout with all the fury he held within him. He, however, did neither, instead he stood, watching the street ahead of him, his eyes unable to turn away. He blinked, and now his nose caught the scent of his mother's perfume…

 

          The moon played only a minor role in illuminating the dark streets, leaving the majority of that work to the tall street lamps, which ran along the sidewalk every hundred feet or so. Johnny, walking only a few paces behind, watched in amusement at how tightly his mother held onto his younger brother's hand.

          Bobby's clothes said nothing of his identity. Their mother had picked out his T-shirt, which had a picture of the popular cartoon character, Larry the Lion on the chest. She had also picked out the grey shorts that ended only inches below his knees, as well as the black sneakers, whose heels lit up every time Bobby took a step. His hair, however, did portray his personality, unruly as it was, each strand seemed to be aimed in a direction other than the one their mother had brushed them in.

          Bobby was only eight years old, but already he was a professional escape artist, slipping out of their mother's grasp at will, simply to take a look at anything he thought was worth seeing, and in his case everything was worth seeing. 

          The taste of finely baked dough and chocolate chips from Cookies by Candice lingered on Johnny's tongue. He knew he had two more in the brown paper bag he held in his left hand, but he would not devour them so quickly. These cookies were his favorite. So he would take his time.

          Johnny's eyes caught the sight of two men approaching. They both wore blue jeans, sneakers and baseball caps, and given that they were both about the same height, Johnny could only distinguish them by the jackets they wore. One of the two men wore a navy blue jacket, while the other wore a jacket whose color was closer to black. At first glance they seemed as innocent as sheep, but Johnny quickly saw through their attempt to hide their fangs, noticing pawed feet where there should have been hooves. The men wore their woolen costumes well, but unlike sheep, the two men's footsteps held too much purpose. It was as if they were hunting.

          Wolves! His thoughts cried out. Johnny wanted his voice to echo the screams in his mind, but his lips would not move, or could not move. The two men came within two feet of Johnny, Bobby, and his mother. Again Johnny's only desire was to scream. Wolves! He wanted to yell to the heavens. Wolves! He wanted to shout until every last bit of air left in his lungs was exhausted. Wolves! He wanted to be a trumpet, sounding the alarm that warned everyone of disaster. Wolves!

          But not a single word left his lips. Instead Johnny took on the role of a statue as he continued watching silently, without the hope of intervention… wolves.

          Johnny's unease only continued to grow. It could not shrink. Not when he knew what would come next.

          Sound finally broke the silence as the man in the blue jacket opened his mouth and--

          "No!" Johnny's short cry attracted the attention of others as he stumbled backward, catching his footing only after bumping into a woman passing by. "Sorry," he uttered quickly, after he had already turned around, wanting desperately to be home.

 

          The moon had long cast its eye on the city before Johnny finally placed a foot on his porch. He was only a few feet from his front door, but his mind was still a mile away at that bakery. He could still see the two men frozen in place, their eyes still staring, staring at--

          "Johnny Samuel Banks! Where have you been?" A voice thundered like a god for all the power it had over him.

          Johnny felt as though he were in the army, years of training forcing him to involuntarily stand at attention at the sound of his name, but the one who called him was not his general, nor his captain, nor his sergeant. It was much worse. He breathed in deeply, before fearfully looking up at a woman whose warm eyes stared down at him. 

          Johnny's mother wore blue jeans and a black blouse. She stood barefoot on her porch, one thick braid corralling black hair that hung like a rope, extending to the middle of her back, but Johnny barely noticed her clothes. He simply stared at angry eyebrows that came too close to meeting in the middle of her forehead.

          Johnny's mother simply stared at him, her silence demanding an answer. He knew he could not run. The thought never even seemed like a viable option, even though he was sure she would not give chase. He, instead, decided to attack the only way he knew how. He put on his most innocent smile, and he quickly dug into his pocket, extending his arm and presenting his two medals, as if to appease a god with an offering.

          "I've been winning," Johnny said proudly.

          He put his faith in his two victories, hoping that they might help him avoid getting grounded, again.

          A crack appeared in her stone visage, and Johnny thought he had gained ground, but she still seemed to hold onto most of her anger.

          "That competition was over hours ago!" she exploded. The raging fire she held had not dimmed within her, but it was not anger that burned at every word she spoke. The fire that consumed each syllable was born of extreme concern.

          Johnny had never been a fire walker, but he had seen people on television walk barefoot over fire pits. So he decided he would try to walk past his mother's burning eyes, before she said the words that would again cause his heart to feel searing pain. He knew this because he had the same conversation with her every few days for the last three months, and every time he would end up going to sleep feeling as though she had burned a hole in his chest.

          Johnny's feet moved on their own, and he was thankful.

          "C'mon mom I was just riding around town. You know, just celebrating." Not wanting to lie to his mother's face, he looked downward, letting his words spill out as he came closer to her flames.

          "Looks like you've been walking around town." Her voice had cooled, but there was still no change in her tone. "Don't tell me you went back there again?"

          Johnny quickly climbed the three steps to his porch, attempting to buy safe passage into his house with a kiss on his mother's cheek.

          "I'm home now, and I'm ok," he explained, as he used his foot to draw out his bike's kickstand and proceeded into his house, but she followed him, and more importantly the conversation followed him, as he headed into the living room.

          "When are you gonna stop doing this to yourself?" she demanded, attempting to match his larger strides.

          "Anything to eat?" Johnny asked. 

          "Johnny you have to stop torturing yourself. It isn't your fault," she pleaded. The heat had been taken out of his mother's voice, replaced by compassion. Johnny knew the truth in her words, but he refused to let them sink in as he quickly turned toward the staircase.

          "I'll be in my room instead," he called over his shoulder, trying to make good on his escape.

          "He's not coming back." Frustration took over, coating every syllable his mother spoke.

          "Call me when dinner's ready okay."

          "Johnny! Bobby is dead!" she yelled in anguish, the fire in her voice burning his heart to ash. "And there is nothing you or me or anyone can do about it!" He knew she was right. She simply wanted him to be as he once was, but his memories were like quicksand, too thick to escape, pulling him ever downward, until he suffocated. 

          Johnny's feet suddenly felt too heavy to move, but he quickly gathered whatever strength he could find within himself, and he slowly continued climbing the staircase.

          "Umm, I'm not really all that hungry anymore mom. I think I'm just gonna go to bed," he said sadly. He had no luck finding an ounce of cheer to mask his words. Johnny simply hoped that she did not notice that tears were collecting at the bottom of his eyes, threatening to spill out and cascade down his cheeks at any moment.

          He quickened his pace as much as he could, but he heard his mother sigh, and then silence. Johnny wondered if she was crying. He hoped not because in his mind he knew it was his fault. So crying should be an exercise for him alone.      

          Darkness was shooed away in an instant, as Johnny flipped the light switch and stepped into his room. His room was not large, but it was made to feel even smaller with all the clutter.

          Stacks of comic books reached an unbelievable height, looming over his bed, just as a row of skyscrapers would loom over the street below. But Johnny was no master builder. He knew nothing of the height limitations for certain building materials. So Johnny's stacks of comic books both loomed and leaned, threatening to fall onto his bed at any moment. His clothes could have been mistaken for his carpet, as both dirty and clean socks, T-shirts and boxer briefs covered the floor from one end of his room to the other. He stared, knowing that even more comics hid beneath the mass of scattered garments, waiting to be read or stepped on.   

          Oddly enough, Johnny began to think his room really was too messy, given that the sight of all his clutter made even him stop for a moment and consider cleaning. So he decided to do what must be done.

          Darkness dominated the room once more, as Johnny turned off the light. Not seeing the mess made it easier to convince himself that it was not there. A seed of both pride and laughter began to grow within him, attempting to break through his sadness and replace his frown with at least a smirk, but it fell short of blooming above the surface, and Johnny was content with the fact that he had smothered another moment of happiness.

          Moonlight once again made its way through both of Johnny's windows. The dim blue light gave birth to shadows, but it fell short of allowing him to see whether he stepped on clothes or comic books, causing him to slip several times as he made his way to his bed. He began scolding himself for not clearing a path before he turned off the light.

          Johnny moved slowly, making sure every foot was planted firmly before he moved the other. 

          His knee was the first to inform him that he had reached his bed, as it made contact with his mattress and bounced back. Knowing what lay before him, Johnny allowed himself to fall face-first on his bed. As soon as he landed, he bounced and spun himself around so that he would come to rest on his back.

          Glancing to his left, he blindly plucked a comic book from one of the piles next to him. Using both hands, he held the book above him as he began slowly turning the pages. The moonlit room only allowed him to see shapes, but not seeing made no difference. Johnny knew what was happening on each page. When something went wrong, heroes acted. It was a simple action and reaction that he had read within these pages thousands of times. It seemed like such an easy thing to understand.

          So why is it so hard for me?

          Johnny continued to stare at the pages, his eyelids becoming heavier by the second, until his nose caught the scent of his mother's perfume...

 

          The moon played only a minor role in illuminating the dark streets, leaving the majority of that work to the tall street lamps, which ran along the sidewalk every hundred feet or so. Johnny, walking only a few paces behind, watched in amusement at how tightly his mother held onto his younger brother's hand.

          Bobby's clothes said nothing of his identity. Their mother had picked out his T-shirt, which had a picture of the popular cartoon character, Larry the Lion on the chest. She had also picked out the grey shorts that ended only inches below his knees, as well as the black sneakers, whose heels lit up every time Bobby took a step. His hair, however, did portray his personality, unruly as it was, each strand seemed to be aimed in a direction other than the one their mother had brushed them in.

          Bobby was only eight years old, but already he was a professional escape artist, slipping out of their mother's grasp at will, simply to take a look at anything he thought was worth seeing, and in his case everything was worth seeing. 

          The taste of finely baked dough and chocolate chips from Cookies by Candice lingered on Johnny's tongue. He knew he had two more in the brown paper bag he held in his left hand, but he would not devour them so quickly. These cookies were his favorite. So he would take his time.

          Johnny's eyes caught the sight of two men approaching. They both wore blue jeans, sneakers and baseball caps, and given that they were both about the same height, Johnny could only distinguish them by the jackets they wore. One of the two men wore a navy blue jacket, while the other wore a jacket whose color was closer to black. At first glance they seemed as innocent as sheep, but Johnny quickly saw through their attempt to hide their fangs, noticing pawed feet where there should have been hooves. The men wore their woolen costumes well, but unlike sheep, the two men's footsteps held too much purpose. It was as if they were hunting.

          Wolves! His thoughts cried out. Johnny wanted his voice to echo the screams in his mind, but his lips would not move, or could not move. The two men came within two feet of Johnny, Bobby, and his mother. Again Johnny's only desire was to scream. Wolves! He wanted to yell to the heavens. Wolves! He wanted to shout until every last bit of air left in his lungs was exhausted. Wolves! He wanted to be a trumpet, sounding the alarm that warned everyone of disaster. Wolves!

          But not a single word left his lips. Instead Johnny took on the role of a statue as he continued watching silently, without the hope of intervention…wolves.

          Johnny's unease only continued to grow. It could not shrink. Not when he knew what would come next.

          Sound finally broke the silence as the man in the blue jacket spoke,

          "Gimmee your purse lady." His voice was no more than a whisper, but it thundered and then echoed within Johnny.

          "Excuse me?" Johnny's mother replied, holding her bag tightly against her stomach.

          "Give me--" he began, before reaching into his pocket and brandishing a gun. He held it close to his stomach. "Give me your purse," he said, now with a wild look in his eye.

          Johnny's mother recoiled from the man.

          "Here, take it," she said, as she handed her purse over without any more objections.

          "Hey!" Bobby squeaked, but no one took notice of his protest.

          The man in the black jacket continued shifting his gaze from side to side, as if he were trying to look in every direction at once. Johnny, however, knew the street was vacant, and no one would come to their aid. 

          "And your ring." The man in the blue jacket nodded his head as he spoke in a commanding tone.

          Johnny's mother began pulling her ring off of her finger, and Johnny tried to look away, but his eyes began to moisten at the sight of his brother latching onto their mother's purse.

          "Give it back!" Bobby squeaked once more, this time demanding they acknowledge him as he clung tightly to the purse.

          "Let go kid!" the man in the blue jacket protested, struggling to pull the purse away from Bobby with his one free hand.

          "Bobby no!" their mother screamed.

          The tug of war lasted only seconds, the man in the blue jacket finally using his other hand, trying to pry Bobby off of the purse with the butt of his gun.

          Johnny closed his eyes, but even as tears streamed silently down his cheeks, he could still clearly see his brother tugging on the purse, and his mother looking on in horror.

          "Bobby stop!" their mother screamed again, the tone of her voice more desperate than demanding.

          Johnny gritted his teeth knowing what would come next. The loud bang that rang out and died quickly as Bobby laid lifeless against the concrete sidewalk, a hole precisely where his heart should have been.

          "No!" their mother screamed, tears already forming at the corners of her eyes. 

          "You shot him? Why'd you shoot him?" the man in the black jacket questioned his partner in crime. Johnny did not know whether the man's questions were born from concern, guilt or fear.

          "I-It was a mistake. It just went off," the man in the blue jacket said, as he began backing away, his face showing nothing but fear, his eyes staring at the gun as though it now had become something too vile for him to hold.

          "Let's get out of here," the man in the black jacket said quickly, before running off. The man in the blue jacket lingered only a moment, dropping both the gun and the purse before following his partner.

          Johnny's mother was already on her knees holding Bobby, crying as she tried to rouse him from death.

          He knew what would happen next. The paramedics would come, but they could do nothing for Bobby. They would try to use their devices, but in the end they would look up at his mother, and he would simply watch her heart break again.

          "Johnny call an ambulance!" Johnny's mother screamed through her tears. "Johnny! Johnny--"

 

 

SCENE 10

 

          Johnny could not remember opening his eyes. He could only recall the nightmare, and then staring into the darkness that cloaked the ceiling of his room. 

          He could feel tears continuing to stream down from the corners of his eyes, soaking his bed in grief. He had dreamt the same dream every night since his brother had died. His only bit of solace was that at least the dreams were private. The trial, however, was not.

          When they finally caught the two men who were responsible for Bobby's death, Johnny not only had to relive the events, but he was also forced to tell the world that he simply watched, as his mother was robbed, and his brother was killed. 

          But the man did have a gun. So really what could he have done?

          Something! a tiny voice within him screamed. Bobby did. I should have too! The coward in him attempted to sound strong, but even at its loudest, the tiny voice was no more than a whisper in his head. However, Johnny knew it was the truth. His brother had sprung into action when fear had held him in place. Johnny could have tried to overpower the man, or grabbed Bobby before he lunged for the purse, or grabbed his mother and led them away from the men when he first saw them, or…

          The actions Johnny thought he could have taken were endless, and in the three months since, he had thought of every one of them. Twice.

          But the reality was that Johnny had done nothing.

          He looked over at his alarm clock.

          Midnight. Johnny realized he had not slept for long. A mere two hours was not enough for someone who had to watch cartoons all morning and afternoon. So Johnny sat up as the loudest voice within him began calling. It was his stomach, the sole voice within him that knew only how to yell, and he knew there was only one way to silence its screams.

          Johnny did not bother turning on the light as he left his room. Leaving the light on would have made it easier when he returned from his raid on the kitchen, but his hands were far too occupied with wiping his tears, just like every night after he woke abruptly.

          His smile, however, was easier to wear now, due to the fact that he had gotten the chance to see Bobby again, for a moment.  

          Cold air caressed Johnny's face as he opened the door of the refrigerator, his eyes frantically searching for something that would quiet his noisy stomach. His eyes ignored the call of deli meats and cheeses. He was in no mood for just a sandwich. Lifting the top off of a large pot, his eyes heard the cries of last night's spaghetti and meatballs, but he replaced the lid once more, silencing the mixture in order to look for something more appropriate for midnight dining.

          Johnny continued to scan the fridge from top to bottom until he spotted something hidden on the lowest level.

          Six slices of pizza were piled onto a dinner plate, and then hidden under aluminum foil.

          Bingo! his mind screamed, as he remembered the unfinished pie of pizza from yesterday. In no more than a few seconds, he ripped off the foil, and he shoved the plate into the microwave. Johnny could already taste the day old mushrooms and extra cheese dancing on his tongue, as he began wondering why forty-five seconds felt like an eternity. Believing that thirty seconds was long enough to give new life to day-old food, he pulled the plate out of the microwave, and he began walking out of the kitchen.

          Johnny remembered that he had left the light off in his room. Turning it on with an elbow would have been a simple enough task, but his couch seemed so inviting, and there were at least twelve whole steps for him to climb, in order to make it to the second floor of his house.

          Johnny would never say he was a lazy man, but he also would never deny it, as he sat down on his couch and placed the plate on a glass table. The pizza was not cold, nor hot. It was almost warm, almost ready, and almost tasty, but he did not care, he still enjoyed devouring six slices in under ten minutes.

          The weight of all the slices were in his stomach, but it was his eyelids that felt heavy. Johnny leaned his head back as he sank into the depths of his couch, his body drowning in comfort, the feeling of a full stomach pulling his mind downward, deeper, and then deeper still until… his nose caught the scent of his mother's perfume…  

          Johnny was still conscious enough to force himself awake. He could have thrown the pizza box away and then watched the stars for the rest of the night, but he needed to see his brother again. He let his emotions wash over him, and, with tears already beginning to stream down his cheeks, he allowed himself to once again be drawn into his nightmare.

 

          The moon played only a minor role in illuminating the dark streets, leaving the majority of that work to the tall street lamps, which ran along the sidewalk every hundred feet or so…

 

 

 

                            

              _______________

 

 

          Orrin felt the huge amount of fate that surrounded Johnny disperse.

          The fate of so many relied on whether this boy slept on his sofa? a copy of Orrin commented as it materialized.

          But his decision has not led to a conclusion, another specter commented, as it came into being alongside the first.

          "Unless there is something I have missed?" Orrin whispered to himself, and the two ghostly copies vanished, leaving Orrin alone to stare at--

          Orrin's eyes quickly widened, as he looked away from Johnny and to himself. He felt the same huge amount of fate circling around him.

          "I do not understand. What decision am I--" Orrin finally sensed it. "No," he whispered, as he turned as fast as he could, but it was already too late. "A wormhole," Orrin breathed. "An unstable one."

          Orrin had been too distracted to sense it forming. So instead he froze it in place, halting its growth, but the wormhole had already tore a hole in the floor under Johnny's couch, and it had already begun pulling both the boy and his couch through its vortex. Half of Johnny was still identifiable. The other half more closely resembled gum being stretched to the point of tearing, a blur of flesh being sucked into the blue and white vortex. 

          Orrin drew closer to the vortex. He felt the high fluctuations of power, verifying that he was staring at an unstable wormhole, one that would continue to grow until it swallowed the whole planet.

          Orrin knew he could not hold the wormhole frozen in place for long. He stretched his arm toward the vortex.

          "I must close it." Orrin's voice spoke of determination. He wanted to be cold. He wanted to do what was necessary, but…

          Johnny will die, a ghostly copy of Orrin whispered sadly, as both Orrin and his ghost eyed Johnny with pity. Orrin retracted his hand, instead using it to stroke his chin as he continued to watch Johnny.

          Can I pull him back? another specter asked.

          No. The matter stream can only travel in one direction. Orrin eyed the ghost, who made it a quartet that now stared at Johnny.

          I can push him through to the other side, and then close it. Orrin's thoughts began to number too many with the appearance of the newest specter.

          "But what lies on the other side of this wormhole?" Orrin asked, and the other ghosts vanished as he moved even closer to the vortex in order to peer into it. He did not know what lay on the other side of the wormhole. It could have led into space, or even a black hole, or--

          Orrin sensed the same pulsing force that he felt on that odd planet. Looking deeper into the wormhole, he saw the Ion Generator, as it too seemed to have been sucked into the wormhole, its destination being Earth.

          Its origin is that odd planet, a specter said.

          "Danger lies there." Orrin's concern for Johnny was becoming a weighted choice. Close the portal now, and allow him to die instantly, or send him onward to what might be a much worse fate.

          He deserves his chance at life, another ghost voiced Orrin's intent, and he extended his hand toward the vortex.

          Maybe he can survive. Maybe he can find the strength to fend for himself. Maybe… Orrin's eyes widened.

          "He can help me see," Orrin whispered, and the ghosts instantly became wisps of air.

          He will need power, another specter stated the obvious, as Orrin extended both arms toward Johnny. 

          "Then I will give him power," Orrin replied, while masking a small amount of his own power within the boy's body. "And send him on his way." Johnny and his couch were both sucked into the vortex, and in a flash, they were gone.

          Orrin hoped that after passing through the wormhole, his power would not be forced out of the planet as he was. He hoped his power would remain within the boy, allowing Orrin a window to view that odd planet without the need to force his way through the clouds. Orrin also hoped that he had masked what he had done well enough so no one on, The Council Kalar would notice. He waited, but he did not sense anyone scanning his memories for evidence of what he had just done. He sighed. He was safe, for the moment.

          "Now to close this abomination," Orrin said, and he placed one hand near the middle of the vortex, pulling the Ion Generator into the wormhole, and then quickly closing the vortex on his end, trapping the mad generator within the wormhole. With one end closed, the vortex on the other end would close as well, after it spat Johnny out.

          This is a gamble, Orrin thought, and a specter spoke.

          "Such is the nature of all decisions," Orrin replied, a smirk painted clearly on his face as he turned his head to look at the ghost. But by the time Orrin had looked in the direction of the specter, it had already vanished. He slowly shook his head as he sighed, his shoulders slumping when he realized he had just argued with himself. 

          Orrin began floating upward, passing through the ceiling of the boy's house and then through the roof. He stared at the stars, hoping that he had chosen the right decision. He knew that, The Council Kalar forbade any intervention within the third dimension. However, he had his suspicions that a power similar to his own, was already present on that odd planet. So this time he would take the chance on meddling in mortal affairs, hoping that in the end The Council would overlook what he had done.

          Orrin no longer felt the large mass of fate around him. It wasted no time dispersing, as it headed for the next decision. With no time to waste, Orrin opened a stable wormhole for himself, stepping in and speeding off toward that odd planet.

          In hyperspace colors zipped by before you had a chance to look at them. Stars, planets and even solar systems were no more than a blur. A very colorful blur, one that made it seem as if you traveled within a rainbow, but Orrin paid little attention to the view, as something tugged at his mind.

          Orrin wondered if he was being manipulated. The tide of fate had offered him no real choice. He would take almost any risk in order to satisfy his curiosity. 

          Maybe fate wanted it to seem like a choice. Orrin, so focused on his thoughts, barely heard the words of the specter that appeared next to him.

          Truthfully, Orrin did not know whether fate flowed on its own or if there was a being controlling the tides. Neither Orrin nor any Kalar had ever encountered a being of that nature, but there were many things the Kalar did not know.

          Maybe there is a being viewing me, just as I view the mortals in this universe, another ghost said nervously, a look of unease on its translucent face.

          Orrin did not like the thought of another being watching him, but the thought of another being using him to achieve a goal he knew nothing about, he liked even less.

          He had no proof that his suspicions were true, but the lack of proof that his suspicions were false was what troubled him. 

          Worry created a pit that began to grow within Orrin's stomach, his eyes shifting from side to side trying to catch sight of anything that seemed out of place, but all he saw was the blur of color. However…

          If someone was watching, they would most likely watch from behind, a specter whispered, and Orrin's head quickly turned as far as his neck would allow, his eyes searching every spectrum for anything that even remotely resembled another being.

          He found nothing. Unsatisfied, he looked forward once more.       

          "I am no one's puppet," Orrin proclaimed.

          But, as Orrin looked around him, he saw that the ghosts had vanished. He had always seen the ghosts as a nuisance, but now that he was alone with only the cold blur of space surrounding him, he felt small, small enough to want at least one of his ghosts as company.

 

 

SCENE 11

 

          Orrin stepped out of hyperspace, taking one last look behind him, as the wormhole closed and winked out of existence.

          Nothing. Nothing but the blur within the wormhole, and then the blackness of space. Orrin shook his head slightly. He had no proof one way or the other that he was being watched. So he pushed his concerns to the back of his mind. He was late anyway, Johnny had sped off through the unstable wormhole minutes before he had opened a wormhole of his own, which meant the boy would be sleeping comfortably on his couch by the time Orrin arrived.

          Orrin looked downward at the odd planet, and the dark red clouds stared back at him, as if daring him to try and see past them again, but he did not relish the thought of wrestling with those clouds for a second time, given that he could still feel a faint whisper of pain at the back of his eyes.

          This time, however, he had a way to bypass the clouds. Johnny would offer him sight, or at least the power he placed within the boy would. Orrin allowed his eyelids to close slowly, as his mind searched for Johnny. He was easy to find. The power Orrin had placed within the boy made him seem more like a beacon.

          It is as I hoped. The power is still with him, a ghost happily relayed Orrin's thoughts as a wide grin grew on his face. A grin that told every star in sight that he had outsmarted his opponent.

          The power he had placed within Johnny had mixed with the boy's cells, becoming part of Johnny, and since humans were unaffected by the strange force hidden on the planet, the power within the boy would not be pushed out beyond the clouds.

          Orrin opened his eyes, and a large clear globe formed in front of him. He was unsure how his power would manifest after reaching the planet, but apparently it had formed itself into a tiny red ball attached to a thin cord that now hung around Johnny's neck. 

          A gumball? a ghost whispered, as Orrin sighed and slowly shook his head. The boy's subconscious must have formed the power given to him into something familiar.

          Orrin recognized the sugary treat from his previous trips to Earth. He sighed once more.

          What was I to expect from a chil--

          Orrin's thought was cut off by the sound of footsteps. Three shadows announced the approach of three figures from the side of the bay door. Their shadows were oddly shaped, but Orrin still expected to see humans. However, when the trio walked in, he began to wonder how many other beings also inhabited this planet.

          All three walked upright, but beyond that they appeared far from human. The figure furthest to the left was covered in tiny scales that were a mossy green before he stepped into the hangar. However, after its feet touched the concrete within the hangar, its scales began matching the color of his surroundings so completely that in a few seconds he appeared to be nearly invisible. The creature reminded Orrin of a chameleon, a reptile he had viewed while on Earth. Orrin's immortal eyes, however, still saw the figure clearly, and even though it was nearly invisible, its head nervously whipped from side to side with every step, as though trying to watch every corner of the room at once. Oddly, it also looked downward at times, as if even the floor might erupt beneath its feet at any moment. 

          The other two were completely different from the lizard-like creature. They walked without hesitation, without looking at their surroundings, as if they had no reason to fear anything. Orrin had seen their type before. Those that walked without fear usually did so because they instilled fear in others.

          Out of the two, the figure on the right resembled a wolverine, an animal Orrin had also seen on Earth, but the creature had been stretched to a terrifying height. Standing close to seven feet tall, its height as well as its long claws would strike fear in any man, but its eyes were its scariest feature. Lacking any pupils, they appeared dark and lifeless, and when Orrin tried to look into the depths of those eyes, all he saw was...

          Madness, a ghost whispered, and Orrin could see that it had consumed the creature, just as the creature's eyes would consume the courage of any man.

          The figure in the middle held the closest resemblance to a man, but as Orrin looked closer, he saw that there was very little of what Orrin could call human left.

          Grey boots rose just short of his knees, while a dark blue bodysuit covered the man's chest, arms, and legs, displaying his toned physique. The man wore one singular piece of armor. A metal shoulder plate sat atop his left arm, while leather straps ran across his chest, keeping the shoulder plate in place. His skin, eyes and hair held a cold blue tint, as though every part of him had frostbite, and he was comfortable with it. No. Not just comfortable, but stronger because of it. He walked with a sense of superiority. He was at least five inches short of being six-feet-tall, and only a few inches shorter than the lizard-like creature, but with his back straight and his head high, he moved as though he was the tallest of the three.

          The trio did not quicken their pace once they saw Johnny, as though even if the boy woke up, he would know to stay put until they were done with him. It would be a large problem if the boy was killed. The tiny viewing ball that hung around Johnny's neck would most likely unravel if the boy died, and Orrin would once again have no way to safely view the odd planet. Orrin had taken a great risk by placing a small amount of his own power within Johnny, but he did not dare interfere further. The Council Kalar would surely know if he took any action to save the boy's life. So he decided he would simply watch, as worry began forming creases on his forehead.

 

                            

              _______________

 

 

          Iceage saw the boy as soon as he stepped through the bay door, but he did not quicken his pace, his grey knee-high boots continuing to move with the same momentum they did before he entered the hangar. He knew this could be a trap. A boy pretending to sleep on a couch in the middle of an airplane hangar, enticing bounty hunters like himself to come near enough to spring whatever trap the rebels had set, but Iceage continued to walk casually knowing full well that he would neutralize any threat.

          He was, however, concerned about his two subordinates. Iceage looked to his right and saw nothing. Apparently Unseen had already changed the color of his scales to match his surroundings. Unseen was useless in a battle. The lizard would run from anything larger than a mouse, but his skills in reconnaissance were unmatched, his color-changing ability allowing him to go anywhere and remain virtually unseen. Iceage simply hoped that the lizard had found a good place to hide.

          Iceage looked to his left, and he saw the large creature, who he knew as Rabid, his long claws already on display. So Rabid too suspected that this might be a trap. Iceage could see the creature's eyes growing darker. The madness was taking over. He sighed. Rabid would be difficult to control in that state, but as long as he left enough of each rebel to be identified, they would still be able to collect a bounty. If, however, Rabid minced them into unidentifiable lumps of flesh, Iceage would have to teach him a lesson in obedience.

          Iceage stopped within a few feet of the couch, Rabid falling in beside him. They stood, as though they were gazelles waiting for lions to lunge at them from their hiding places.

          However, no rebels jumped out at them from the shadows, nor did the boy sleeping in front of them move an inch. Iceage slowly shook his head. Annoyingly this was exactly what it looked like. A fool fallen asleep outside the city limits.

          Tears slid from the boy's eyes, cascading down his cheeks, only to saturate the neckline of the hooded sweatshirt he wore. Iceage wondered what kind of nightmare he was experiencing, but then Iceage smiled, knowing that whatever the boy was living through now was nothing compared to what awaited him when he finally woke. Iceage saw the boy begin to open his eyes. The boy lazily stared at them, most likely still not completely aware of where he was. The boy smiled and let out a tiny laugh.

          "I must be dreaming," the boy said, as he slowly rose to his feet and stared at Iceage. The boy's eyes narrowed. "Wait…are you real?" Iceage allowed the fool's finger to come close to touching him, before punching the boy hard in the stomach and watching him crumple to the floor. "Yup you're real. Oh, I am never eating day-old pizza again," the boy groaned.

          Normally Iceage would have killed anyone crazy enough to think they could lay a finger on him, but there was still the matter of finding out if the fool had a bounty.

          "Unseen!" Iceage yelled, annoyance making his voice louder than he had wanted.

          "Yes," Unseen replied quickly from no more than a foot away, startling Iceage as the lizard changed the color of his scales back to its original mossy green in an instant. Iceage sighed. He would never get used to the high speed color change that Unseen's body underwent. "Eww. That is the ugliest couch I've ever seen."

          "Just scan his face to see if he has a bounty," Iceage ordered. He did not recognize the boy. So he knew the bounty would be low, if there was one at all. He watched Unseen read the scanner. Usually the lizard would reply in seconds, but now he seemed hesitant. "Well?"

          "Uh. He has no bounty. He's not even in the system." Unseen sounded amazed, but Iceage's annoyance only grew.

          Rabid's laugh was always too high pitched to be mistaken for anything but madness.

          "Let me kill him. Please let me kill him. If he's not in the database, then no one'll miss him if I carve him up," Rabid begged as his voice started high, but ended in a low tone.

          Iceage knew the madness in him had completely taken over, and the only thing that would calm him now was blood.

          "Make it quick," Iceage commanded, but he knew Rabid would not heed his words. In his maddened state, Rabid would toy with his prey for quite some time, before finally killing the boy, and Iceage did not want to waste time on something that was not profitable.

          Looking at his watch, Iceage decided that he would wait no more than ten minutes, before killing the boy himself, and maybe Rabid as well. 

 

 

              _______________

 

 

          The day had barely begun, and the sun shined without the distraction of a single cloud, but Kayla frowned all the same as she looked through her binoculars.

          Her Ion Generator was nowhere in sight. Iceage and his awful Death Squad most likely had it carted away.

          It's probably in Gizmo's hands now, she thought. She felt her hands grip her binoculars tighter. The name alone angered her. Gizmo. Nightfire's genius. The man thought he was smarter than Kayla. He had created the technology that allowed Nightfire to gain his power, and with that power, Nightfire quickly took control of Crysis City, but her inventions were just as good. No. They were better. That thought alone made Kayla's fingers ease their grip on her binoculars, but she still continued to frown as she watched Rabid toying with a boy.

          Kayla could not abide The Death Squad beating innocent citizens, especially cute ones. She pushed away the thought, and instead found herself thinking about her split ends. Kayla had never really given her hair much notice, but now she stared intently at the unruly ends, wishing she had packed a brush, comb and scissors, instead of so many gadgets.

          Kayla shook her head.

          "He's not that cute," Kayla whispered, as she tore her eyes away from her hair, and once again looked through her binoculars.

          "Who's not that cute?" Kayla felt a chill, as Zane repeated her words.

          "Uh…no one," Kayla replied. Zane was only eight, but the child seemed to have ears like a rabbit. She let the thought go. Her main concern now was the boy in the hangar. "We have to help him."

          "Help who? Lemme see," Zane squeaked, and Kayla could feel him tugging on her cargo pants.

          She handed him the binoculars, sighing quietly as she took notice of his hair, each group of strands choosing to go in a different direction than the one she had combed them in just this morning.

          "Hey, who's the guy getting beaten up?" Zane winced, as he finished his question, likely due to Rabid knocking the boy around.

          "C'mon Zane," Kayla said, as she slid down the pile of scrap metal that she and Zane used as their vantage point.

          "What?" Zane said in confusion, but Kayla, now in a full run, looked back only long enough to see Zane take the binoculars away from his eyes and begin sliding down the mound. 

          "Coming!" Zane called out. 

          Kayla's long legs moved swiftly as she ran through the junkyard. She could hear only the wind behind her, but she knew Zane was not far, planting each foot in complete silence, just as she had taught him. She came to a halt behind a large pile of scrap metal no more than twenty feet away from the hangar door. She looked back as Zane fell in beside her.

          "Okay Zane, we're gonna save that guy inside. Now what I want you to do is--"

          "I already have a plan, and I know it'll work," Zane interrupted. "Just stay behind me." The child spoke with confidence, but Kayla only sighed and held out her arm in order to stop Zane from walking out into the open.

          "You can't just go in there, tell them you're Big Z, and expect them to run away," Kayla explained, as Zane's shocked look only made her sigh again.

          "How'd you know that was my plan?"

          "Because that's always your plan. Now here's what we're gonna do."

          Kayla brought Zane close as she whispered her plan into his ear. The child protested at first, but she quieted him down, she made him see reason, and then she watched as he reluctantly went off toward the back of the hangar.

          Kayla knew Zane would be in position in no time. So she quickly placed her pink teddy bear backpack on the ground, her arm vanishing within the depths of the bag as she blindly felt around for--

          Found it. Kayla pulled a metallic ball no larger than her hand out of her bag. Steel covered most of the surface of the ball, the smooth grey metal giving way to six camera lenses, which were placed all around the ball at an equal distance from each other.

          Kayla brought her finger close to one of the camera lenses, but pulled back just short of touching the surface of the ball. She instead used her hand as a comb, threading the ends of her hair, in an attempt to bring the unruly strands under control.

          When Kayla was finally satisfied, she took a deep breath and touched one of the lenses on the ball.

          The sphere floated inches above Kayla's hand, while blue light came to life within the depths of each lens. It was a weak light that barely shined beyond the confines of the metallic ball, but she could see it, and she stood with her back straight as the blue light shot out of one of the lenses, widening as it scanned her from head-to-toe. The sphere circled around her, continuing to scan her body until it had made a complete circle around her.

          All the lights within each lens began to shine, and an exact image of Kayla was created around the ball. She smiled.

          At least it worked this time, she thought.

          Kayla's hand vanished within her backpack once more, and she pulled out a remote control and a headset. The headset was simple, consisting of a microphone attached to a viewing screen no larger than a pair of glasses.

          She had it in place within the span of a breath. With the headset she was able to see through the eyes of her hologram, or rather through the lenses of the floating ball that created the hologram, and with her remote control firmly in one hand, she wasted no time walking her copy out in front of the hangar doors.

          The dirt floor was her stage. The Death Squad her audience, and Kayla knew she would have to be convincing, if she wanted to get the boy out alive. She had written a script in her head, and she readied herself for her performance.

          "Hey! Leave him alone!" Kayla called out to her audience, demanding their attention as she used her most commanding tone. She had hoped that all three members of The Death Squad would forget about the boy, and stare at her, but only Iceage and Unseen looked her way, Rabid remaining focused solely on his plaything, his mad laughter increasing in volume, as he threw the boy from one end of the hangar to the other.

          "I said leave him alone, or else I'm gonna have to hurt you!" Kayla's second attempt did not increase her audience, as Iceage and Unseen were still the only two staring at her.

          "Unseen." Kayla almost jumped at the sound of Iceage's voice. She had hoped he did not notice, but very little escaped that man's icy glare. However, Unseen did not move. Kayla watched the lizard simply stare at her for a moment.

          "Unseen!" Iceage yelled, and Kayla visibly shook.

          Unseen pointed his scanner at her. As she expected, the lizard's eyes widened, and Unseen looked toward Iceage.

          "She's worth ninety thousand credits," the lizard said in disbelief.

          Reputation had the ability to do many things. Sometimes it brought about fear in others. Sometimes it brought a person respect. For Kayla, however, it had brought her plan back on track as Rabid turned to face her. A ninety thousand credit bounty was nowhere near the highest price given for the capture of a rebel, but it was substantial, and with the twenty or so Mech factories she had blown to pieces, Kayla knew she had earned every last credit of that bounty.    

          Pride caused a dangerous smile to grow on one side of her face. Kayla's plan was again in full swing, as the boy was now forgotten by all three members of The Death Squad. 

          "How about I show you why I'm worth so much," Kayla suggested, reaching over her shoulder, her hand blindly searching her backpack. In seconds she found what she wanted. Her hand emerged from her bag holding a metal disk no larger than the palm of her hand. She had captivated The Death Squad. She saw their eyes narrow as they tried to discern what the disk was. Now comes the real show, she thought.

          Kayla saw small sparks begin to fly at the far end of the hangar. She quickly pressed the red button in the middle of the disk, and then tossed it upward. At first the disk simply flipped in the air, as though it was nothing more than a large coin, but it soon began to change, growing in size, the metal shifting and extending until it transformed into the large plasma rifle she had created only days ago.

          Kayla was surprised she had caught the rifle by the handle on its way down, but she tried her best to keep her face unchanged. Showing anything but strength, might mean the end of the boy, and The Death Squad had to believe this was all part of the show.

          Kayla ran her hand along the top of the rifle as if she were petting a dog. She made sure she looked in The Death Squad's direction, but she actually looked past them, peering at the far end of the hangar, where small sparks no longer showered the floor.

          Instead, light shined through a small rectangular hole at the far end of the hangar. Kayla saw it clearly, but she tried not to fix her eyes directly on the small portion of the floor painted by the color of the sun.

          Zane resembled a groundhog as he stuck his head through the small hole, his eyes watching The Death Squad. He looked at them for only a moment before he crawled through the hole and crept slowly toward the boy.

          Kayla knew she had to keep their eyes on her. Time for the light show, she thought.

          "This plasma rifle can collect ten times the energy of a normal blaster, but you guys shouldn't worry." Kayla quickly pointed the plasma rifle in The Death Squad's direction, and she squeezed the trigger. "You won't feel a thing." The coils within the plasma rifle instantly lit up, the front end of the barrel growing brighter and brighter still, attempting to outshine the sun, until smoke billowed out from the back end, the coil's brightness dissipating until the gun seemed as lifeless as the metal it was made of.

          Kayla knew this would happen, and she feigned surprise as she watched Zane quietly get the attention of the boy, who also seemed to be watching her light show. 

          To her amazement, Iceage had brought to life a six-foot-tall wall of ice wide enough to protect all three members of The Death Squad.

          Iceage did all that in an instant! Kayla's mind tried to rationalize how so much ice could be created so quickly. She felt a cold chill wrap around her, but she resisted the urge to tremble. Instead she continued her act, fanning the smoke, as she did her best to look embarrassed.

          Kayla did, however, keep one eye on Zane. He had gotten the attention of the boy, but, why isn't he moving? she wondered.

          Instead of following Zane back through the hole cut into the hangar, he simply stared at Zane, as though he was looking at a ghost.

          Kayla could also see Rabid moving toward her. She knew she would have to keep up her act just a little longer. She extended her arm in front of her, while pointing her index finger upward.

          "Um. If you would--" C'mon move already, the voice in her head commanded, but Kayla was no psychic. She had no way of sending her thoughts into the boy's head. Worry began to set in, as she continued to watch the boy look at Zane in disbelief. "Uh just give me a uh--" Please move, she silently begged. This time it was her heart that spoke, echoing the thought in her head that she did not want the boy to die. "A uh moment to uh fix this problem." Kayla saw the boy finally begin to move and her heart no longer felt heavy.

          Kayla watched Rabid easily jumped over Iceage's wall, bolting for her as he ran on all fours. She turned around in an attempt to run, but just as she had expected, Rabid was on her before she had a chance to take her first step, his clawed hands reaching out only to pass through her, as if she were a ghost.

          Kayla's view was now reduced to that of a person, who now lay on the floor unable to move, as the holographic ball gave her a view from the ground. Rabid's claws must have destroyed the holographic ball's ability to hover, as well as much of the camera's ability to send images.

          The picture sent to Kayla was shifted ninety degrees, and she was given a sideways view of the airplane hangar. The audio was still intact, as she could clearly hear Iceage say in disbelief, "A hologram?" 

          Kayla saw the members of The Death Squad look to where the boy should have been. "She was just a distraction!" Iceage yelled. She saw Rabid begin to move back into the hangar, most likely wanting to find out if his prey had crawled into some corner.

          "Forget him! Find the girl!" Iceage commanded. Somehow his voice sounded even colder than normal, frost bellowing out like steam from his clenched hands.

          Iceage cast his frozen stare at the holographic ball, and Kayla felt a chill once more. She had seen that stare once before. It was his promise that he would get revenge for making a fool of him.

          Kayla realized she had taken a step back as she raised the visor of her headset. She could still feel his eyes, and the blizzard within them.

          "She must be close if she used a hologram!" Kayla heard Iceage's voice, as she pulled the headset off of her head and shoved it in her bag.

          "Not as close as you think," she whispered to herself, before sprinting away toward the other end of the junkyard.

          Kayla saw Zane and the boy coming up on the rendezvous point just as she reached it.  

          "Find her!" Iceage's scream was not far enough for her to feel safe, and Rabid's mad laughter as he tore the junkyard apart in his search for her, only seemed to be getting closer. 

          The boy tried to speak when he and Zane had reached Kayla, but she cut him off.

          "We can talk later," Kayla whispered. She knew this was not the place to have a conversation. "This way." Kayla simply nodded, and then she ran off, as Zane and the boy followed close behind.

 

          Johnny was the name of the boy whose eyes she wanted to continue looking at. He told Kayla and Zane his name before she sat him down, in order to treat the cuts and scrapes Rabid had given him.

          Johnny's eyes were brown. Not blue. Not grey. Just brown, but Kayla still wanted to stare at them the same way she gazed at the moon.

          She glanced at him though, when she thought he was not looking, but when his eyes stopped staring in wonder at her underground hideout, and looked in her direction, she made sure to look away.

          Kayla's heart smiled at their cat and mouse game, but she began to wonder which one she was, the cat or the mouse.

          Fingertips slid across smooth skin, as Kayla slowly traced one rib after another, making sure Johnny's bones had not suffered any bruises or breaks. She knew her fingers were not as smooth as they could be, and her nails were not manicured the way she had seen on the hands of some of the other female rebels, but she did not draw her hands away until she was satisfied. Kayla knew men often downplayed how much pain they were in, and she did not want Johnny moving about with only his pride to comfort his injuries. Finding nothing out of place, she quickly had him put on his T-shirt and hoodie, knowing that she would not be able to concentrate on treating his other wounds with his bare chest in plain sight.    

          Oddly the boy barely flinched as Kayla applied alcohol to the many cuts on his neck. Rabid must have held him up by the neck, before throwing him from one end of the hangar to the other. He was lucky though. Lucky that Rabid had not snapped his neck by mistake, given how frighteningly strong the beast was.

          "Where are we?" Johnny asked.

          "Crysis City's eastern district. We're twenty meters below the surface," Kayla replied, but when he looked at her in confusion, she knew she may have not been clear enough.

          "Are we still in New York?" he asked, and now it was Kayla's turn to look confused.

          "Where?" 

          "New York. You know the Big Apple," Johnny said, apparently thinking that using both hands to outline the shape of an apple would clarify things. They did not.

          "The what?" Kayla had stopped applying alcohol to his cuts, in order to look at the apple he traced in mid-air.

          "The Big Apple. It's just what they call New York."

          "That's weird," Kayla commented, as she went back to wiping the cuts on his neck. "So how'd you get from the Big Apple to the hangar?" 

          "Don't know. Last thing I remember was falling asleep on my couch, and then waking up here. At one point I did feel like I was sinking into a whirlpool." Kayla's eyes narrowed, and her hand froze in place only inches away from Johnny's neck, as he continued to speak, "but somehow I knew it wasn't water I was sinking into."  

          "Wait. Say that again?" Kayla quickly asked, as concern caused creases on her forehead. 

          "I fell asleep--"

          "After that."        

          "I felt like I was sinking into a whirlpool," Johnny said, and Kayla's eyes widened.

          "Oh no," she whispered.

          She began talking to herself, as she quickly grabbed a calculator out of her pink teddy bear backpack.

          "It was blue, or at least I think it was blue," Johnny continued, but Kayla could barely hear Johnny's words as she feverishly punched buttons on her calculator.

          "No-no-no-no-no. My calculations couldn't have been that far off," Kayla said, and then she sighed, looking downward while covering her forehead with her hand. She began to feel Johnny's eyes on her, knowing that he would want to know how he had gotten to Crysis City.

          Kayla took her hand away from her forehead, and she faced him, but she could not look him in the eyes for more than a second, her guilt making it difficult to stare directly at him.

          "Uh, Johnny is it?" Nervousness took over before she even spoke. I hope he doesn't hate me after this, she thought. "I don't really know how to say this, but that feeling you had of a whirlpool…was actually a wormhole and...I might be the one responsible for creating it and bringing you here." 

          "What?" Johnny blurted out, and Kayla was relieved that his tone was more amazement than anger, but she quickly put her hands in front of her in an attempt to calm him down.

          "By mistake of course. I built an Ion Generator, but it must have collected too much energy and created the wormhole that brought you here," Kayla explained.

          Zane let out a small laugh.

          "Another one of your inventions went crazy," Zane said casually, while bits of bread flew from his mouth. "What's new."

          Kayla had not heard Zane walk up beside her. She had all but forgotten about him, due to the fact that he had actually stayed quiet for more than ten minutes. For as long as she had known Zane, he had always been a noisy child, and more than once she had thought of him as an alarm clock that you could not turn off, but could only hit snooze.

          Kayla, however, with her lips pressed firmly together and her eyes narrow, looked directly at Zane. His eyes widened when they met hers and he quickly looked downward, as he spoke again,

          "I mean, that's a first," the child said nervously, as he continued to inhale his sandwich.

          Kayla looked once again at Johnny, as she tried to make her voice sound as reassuring as possible.

          "I can send you back though, I'm sure of it. I'll just have to make another Ion Generator. If I create the same conditions, it should send you back..." Uncertainty began to seep into her voice. "In theory anyway." Kayla looked downward, cupping her chin, as she half spoke to herself. "I'll need more battery packs though."

          "I can get them!" Zane shouted, while stuffing the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. She looked down at the eight-year-old in disbelief.

          "After that stunt we pulled, Iceage and his goons are gonna be on the lookout."

          "I'll be careful," Zane insisted.

          The boy really thought he was indestructible.

          "You'll have to go with him," Kayla said, as she moved her gaze to Johnny.

          "Me?" Johnny's voice sounded unsure. Kayla did not think it would be too difficult, but she did not want Zane going by himself.

          "Quinn's out training, and I have to wait for intel on what parts of the city Nightfire's troops are increasing their searches," Kayla explained, as she pulled a small plasma gun out of her pink backpack, and handed it to Johnny. "Take this." Johnny looked at the gun as though it were a piece of alien technology. "Have you ever used one?"

          "No," he replied innocently. Too innocently for Kayla's liking. The boy had never seen war.

          "Then let's hope you won't have to," she said softly.

          "Can I have one?" Zane called up to her, as he tugged on her sweatpants.

          "No!" Kayla replied quickly. "Especially after what happened the last time you got a hold of one."

          "Make one mistake and a guy's branded for life," Zane said, as he rolled his eyes. He then began walking toward the door. "C'mon, Johnny. Just follow Big Z."

          Johnny began to turn, but Kayla caught his arm.

          "Be careful," she told him. "If anything happens just grab Zane and run, use the plasma gun only as your last resort."

          He nodded, and Kayla let go of his arm.

          She watched Johnny and Zane walk out of the hideout, as she found herself hoping for two things. The first was that they would be okay. The second was that she hoped she did not sound too bossy. Kayla began biting her lip nervously, remembering how Ghost had once told her that men were not fond of women who told them what to do.

 

 

SCENE 12

 

          A ditch with cobblestone walkways on both sides ran the length of the sewer system. The paved stones were uneven, but not so much that it would cause Johnny to trip, as long as he watched where he stepped. He had never been in the sewers in New York. So he wondered if this is what it would be like to walk below his own city.

          The sunlight coming through the metal gratings provided enough light to see his surroundings.

          A river of green sewage ran between the two cobblestone walkways. Johnny saw lights within the sewage. Blue, red and even orange lights glowed below the green surface, all of them moving in different directions as if they had a mind of their own. He realized they were fish when one quickly came to the surface, swallowing a fly that had lingered too long on an indistinguishable brown lump floating atop the slow moving sludge.

          Johnny knew most people would have marveled at the sight of glow fish swimming below the surface. They would have stopped to gaze at the lights for hours, but not Johnny. He instead found his eyes continuing to fall on the child ahead of him. 

          Zane could have been the mirror image of Johnny's younger brother, and whenever he looked at Zane, his mind was brought back to a time when his smile was not just a mask he would put on, in order to fool everyone but himself.  

          At times Johnny wanted to simply call out his brother's name, hoping that the child in front of him would turn around, but he found that he could not, or would not, solely because of the fear that he might be wrong, extinguishing the small hope that Zane was really his brother.

          However, Johnny's mind continued to try to fuel the fire of hope that burned within him. Maybe Johnny had died too. Maybe this was the afterlife and he had finally found his brother once again. Maybe Bobby was undercover, playing his role until they got far enough away from where anyone would hear. Maybe then he would turn around and say Johnny's name. Maybe he would hug Johnny like he did every time Johnny brought home cookies. Maybe then Bobby would tell him what was really going on, or… maybe Johnny was only fooling himself.

          The child's name was Zane. Not Bobby.

          But, even with the truth in front of him, Johnny realized his smile did not fade, or would not fade. It remained, as permanent as paint on canvas.

          So, with a smile that took no effort to maintain, he continued walking behind a child that walked as though he thought nothing could harm him, just like Bobby used to do.

 

          The sunlight shining through the metal gratings that sat at street level began to intrigue Johnny, and as he passed through every spear of sunlight that stabbed the sewer floor, he looked upward through the bars, but given that each opening was no larger than two feet in both directions, he looked more with his ears than his eyes. He soon realized the strange silence on the streets above him. Johnny heard no people talking. He heard no children playing. No cars zooming by. Not even a footstep. So, when he heard the sound of what he thought was a motor, he stopped.

          Johnny's eyes lingered on the grating, while his mind wondered what kind of vehicle was close by. He began moving toward the grating, but he quickly felt his hooded sweatshirt stretch. He looked down to see that Zane had grabbed the bottom of his hoodie.

          "Don't," Zane whispered. There was no smile on Zane's face as he looked up at Johnny. He slowly shook his head. "That's a Mech."

          Johnny stopped. He realized that whatever this Mech was it must be dangerous if Zane did not want him to even take a look at one. Johnny continued to gaze at the grating, but he moved no closer to the light.

          "They're robots that were created to catch rebels like us," Zane added, having already let go of Johnny's hoodie. Zane was already a few feet away, attempting to hop over a two-foot crack that separated the cobblestones in the sewer floor. "But they won't catch me…" Zane landed easily on the other side of the separation, turning to face Johnny while crossing his arms under his chest and exclaiming, "Big Z's too tough for those tin cans."

          Johnny hurried along, catching up to Zane as the child turned and continued to lead the way.

          "Why can't I hear any people?" Johnny asked, eyeing a column of sunlight that passed through another metal grating.

          "They're not allowed out this far. After Nightfire took over, the normal people in Crysis City became slaves. They all work in Nightfire's factories, or as servants for Supers, but we're gonna free everyone, as soon as Kayla finds out how to get past Nightfire's shield. I'm pretty sure I can do it myself, but Kayla won't let me try," Zane explained.

          This must be Bobby, Johnny thought. Bobby also thought he could do anything.

          Johnny found himself wanting to know more about a person, who was strong enough to take control of an entire city.

          "Who's Nightfire?"

          "My archenemy," Zane answered, pointing a thumb at his own chest as he looked back at Johnny and continued walking. "He took over Crysis City six years ago, only because my superpowers hadn't developed yet."

          "You have powers?"

          "I'm a teleka… telekon… I move things with my mind." Zane now looked forward as he continued walking. "I'm gonna bring Nightfire's whole tower down on him. Right now though I can only move coins around, but in a week or two, I'll be able to lift up whole buildings. You'll see."

          Zane came to a halt, and Johnny watched him look downward as he clenched his fists. "I'll get back everything he took from us. Everything," Zane said sadly, as he passed his forearm across his eyes, most likely wiping tears away.

          Johnny's hand moved on its own as it aimed itself for Zane's shoulder. He wondered what he should say. No. He knew what he would say. He would promise to defeat Nightfire. He just did not know how he would do it as of yet. His fingers were only inches away from the child's shoulder. Johnny steadied himself, and he tried to look as convincing as possible. He took a breath and--

          "The junkyard!" Zane yelled, looking up and taking one step forward, before turning back to look at Johnny. "Stay here."

          Ahead the sewer tunnel turned to the right, but at the corner Johnny saw that a few of the bricks were missing from the wall. He saw the light spilling in from a hole large enough for a person to fit through. 

          Zane crept more than fifty feet ahead to the hole, while Johnny waited, gripping the plasma blaster tightly in his hand, telling himself that if anything came out from the junkyard, he would destroy it, before it had a chance to grab Zane.

          Seconds passed, but to Johnny it felt like an eternity before Zane turned to him.

          "It's safe!" the child called out, and Johnny was relieved.

          Zane hopped out of the sewer pipe, and Johnny, feeling the urge to not let Zane out of his sight, moved quickly to the end of the sewer pipe, and hopped out as well.

          Johnny landed on a garden of weeds. His eyes scanned the area, but he saw no life other than the unwanted plants scattered throughout the junkyard. He would have pulled Zane back into the sewers if anything had even the slightest appearance of looking out of place, but he instead scratched an itch that suddenly appeared at the back of his neck. Bad memories he hoped.

          Zane led the way once again. Oddly the child made little to no noise as he walked. Johnny, however, heard glass break more than once under his sneakers, even though he made an effort to only step where Zane stepped.  

          "This is where you keep your battery packs?" Johnny asked quietly. His words were close to a whisper, but they were loud enough to carry to Zane's ears.

          "Yeah. Nightfire's goons'd never think of looking here." Johnny thought Zane's voice was too loud. The child spoke as if there was not even the slightest chance anyone would hear him. Zane turned his head slightly and continued, "See we hide solar panels all over the junkyard. The wires run under the cars, and the batteries are…" Zane placed a hand under the hood of an unidentifiable vehicle, and the hood popped up. "…under the hood." Zane smiled as he turned to face Johnny. 

          Small rectangular boxes, which were no larger than double 'A' batteries, lined the inside of the hood and where Johnny believed the engine should have been. Zane plunged his hand into the sea of battery packs.

          "Grab as many as you can," Zane said, as his hand disappeared within his pockets, only to reappear in order to quickly grab more battery packs.

          Johnny also grabbed a fistful of batteries with one hand, quickly stuffing them in his pocket before reaching for more. He still kept an eye on the junkyard, as well as a tight grip on the plasma gun Kayla had given him.

          The batteries within the car began to vibrate, and he would have continued looking downward under the hood, if he did not hear the sound of a motor growing louder.

          His head moved on its own, whipping from side to side until--

          "Get down." He heard Zane's voice, and once again felt a tug at the bottom of his hoodie.

          Johnny ducked down, leaning his back against the bottom of the vehicle, just as he saw Zane doing. He edged his way to the corner of the vehicle, peeking outward at the large four lane road just beyond the junkyard.

          The sound of the motor continued, but it did so without the rumble, and as loud as it was, Johnny could not tell where it was coming from, his eyes narrowing as he tried to see as far down the street in both directions as he possibly could.

          Johnny hoped his ears were playing tricks on him. He hoped that the sound he heard was actually a vehicle moving away from himself and Zane, instead of coming toward them. However, one look at Zane made Johnny realize the danger they might be in. The child was still ducked low, his head turning from side to side as though whatever was coming could come from either direction. Johnny turned his attention back to the road, and he continued to stare in the direction he believed the noise was comi--

          His eyes widened as it came out from behind a building.

          The first thing he saw was the cannon, which did not know when to stop as it continued to pour out from behind the building, forcing the tank to cross three lanes before it made a left turn. The only thing that was as impressive as the cannon was the tank itself, which Johnny measured to be as long as half a city block. 

          The tank had no wheels, nor did it have any gears or tread. From what Johnny estimated, the tank hovered just above six feet off the ground, and he began to imagine what it felt like to be close enough to look up at that nightmare. He quickly shook his head, as he attempted to rid himself of the thought. 

          The tank did not need to have anything else aboard in order to seem more intimidating, but like any good nightmare, there was always more to fear. Gun turrets sat at each corner of the tank, manned by soldiers dressed in all black, a single red flame burning at the chest of their body armor.

          Johnny pulled back, shaking his head slowly and eyeing the plasma gun in his hand that now seemed smaller. 

          The tank continued to move up the street, until it stopped directly across from the junkyard. A tremor in the ground told him that the tank had stopped hovering and landed. The sound of the tank's engine still dominated the area, but it was much quieter now. The sound of the engine was so low that Johnny could hear the cannon turning.

          Peeking out for only a moment, he confirmed his fear, as he saw the cannon turning in the direction of the junkyard, but making things worse were the soldiers stationed behind the gun turrets. Each one had a pair of binoculars in front of their eyes, and they were all looking in the direction of the junkyard.   

          Johnny pulled back again, shaking his head slowly and eyeing the plasma gun in his hand that now seemed tiny. 

          He wondered how many seconds had passed before he remembered to breathe. He exhaled, relaxing his grip on the plasma gun, stretching one finger at a time until--

          The sound of the cannon moving again brought a small hope. Johnny peeked out, and he saw that his hopes were right. The soldiers were reseated behind their turrets, and the cannon was turning back to its original position.

          Johnny's teeth rattled, along with the entire junkyard, as the tank began to hover higher and higher until it loomed above any normal man once more. The tank began moving down the street, turning the corner slowly and allowing relief to cover him, instead of a cold sweat.

          Johnny looked up, and he saw Zane already stuffing his pockets with more battery packs as if nothing had happened. So Johnny decided to do the same, grabbing more battery packs without a second thought.

          "They call those things AC4's. They carry Nightfire's troops around the city." Zane spoke without looking up, as if the tank was nothing more than an acceptable disruption in their daily life. 

          "Where'd you get that gumball from?" Zane asked, and Johnny saw that Zane was looking at his chest. "Can I have one?"

          "What gumball?"

          "Duh. The one hanging from your neck," Zane answered.

          Johnny only remembered the foreign cord attached to the small red ball-like pendant dangling around his neck when he looked downward at his chest. He had no recollection of how the cord had come to encircle his neck. He had only realized it hung around his neck when he had made it back to Kayla's hideout.

          His fingers lifted the cord, in order to bring the small red ball into sight. The cord and pendant seemed tribal in its design. There were no flashy diamonds reflecting the light for all to see. No gold glowing with the help of the sun. Not even an ounce of silver to improve its worth to those who put a price on everything.

          There was only a thin cord attached to tiny claws that held the small red gumball in place from two sides. Small inscriptions ran along the claws. Johnny attempted to read it, but the sunlight dimmed as clouds must have suddenly gathered in the sky above him. But the sky was clear? he thought, as he turned his gaze upward, his eyes widening when he saw the large robot dropping in from the sky.  

          "Bobby run!" Johnny commanded, pushing Zane aside as he began bringing the plasma gun up toward the incoming robot.

          His ears rang, and the floor trembled as the robot landed. The tremor ruined his aim, causing his first shot to seem as though he was trying to shoot the clouds, but Johnny adjusted, quickly moving the plasma gun downward as he pointed it at the robot's head and pulled the trigger.

          But he was sent flying when the robot's arms hit him.

          While he flipped through the air, Johnny was more concerned with where he would land than the pain in his side where the robot's mechanical arm had hit him. He thanked whichever god allowed him to land on his back. So that must be a Mech. The thought bubbled to the top of Johnny's consciousness. How did it get so close without us hearing it? His mind wanted answers, almost as much as he wanted to know where Zane was.

          The Mech landed and loomed over him, sparks flying from the side of its head where he had apparently shot it. Johnny sighed as he looked at the Mech. A few inches to the left and he would have blown off the Mech's face entirely. At least Zane got away. The thought made Johnny smile.

          Johnny squinted, trying to protect his eyes as a green beam, which originated from the Mech, scanned his face.

          "Unidentified civilian..." The robot spoke with no emotion, just as he expected.

          "Yeah that's me," he whispered, before grunting due to the throbbing pain in his side. This was the second time today that he had been told he was unidentifiable. So it was simple for him to figure out what was going to come next.

          "Orders... Terminate."

          Johnny let out a small laugh at his impending death. He could feel his fear wrapping itself tightly around him, holding him in place as it always did.

          He simply watched the Mech's arm move toward him. The Gatling gun attached to its forearm already spinning, its high pitch cry sounding as if it were calling for his death.

          "How can you give up now?" Johnny heard the voice, but he could not see where it was coming from.

          God? The name bounced around in his head as his gaze bounced in every direction, trying to find an image for the voice that wandered into his ears.     

          "You have this Mech right where you want it," the mysterious voice explained, as an image of a being materialized right above the robot, and Johnny seriously began to question whether this was God.

          The being had a large head that was supported by a small body. In fact, as Johnny stared in disbelief, he realized that the being could be no more than a few inches taller than Zane. This could not be God. Fully clothed and wearing a hooded cape, the being looked more like an alien from one of his comic books.

          "Who are you?" Johnny asked. The pain in his side only allowed a whisper to leave his lips, and he wondered if the being had even heard him.

          "My name is of little importance. What should concern you is this Mech, which apparently wants to end your life." The being placed a hand on the robot's arm, and Johnny finally realized that the arm was not moving. Johnny's gaze quickly shifted to the clouds and the birds that flew under them.

          Frozen as well.

          The world that felt full of life now felt more like a painting, even the birds in the distance appeared no more than lifelike as they hung in the air, unmoving though they appeared to be flying.

          But Johnny soon realized he too was frozen from the waist down.

          "Why isn't anything moving? Why can't I move?… Did you stop time?" The questions scared Johnny even before he asked them. If this being could stop time, then there was really no limit to his power.

          "Stopping time is far beyond my capabilities. No. I have not stopped time. I simply sped up your mind to move much faster than the world around you," the being explained, and Johnny did not know why, but he felt a small bit of relief to know that there were limitations to this being's power.

          The being looked at his hand as it began to fade.

          "I do not have much time." A copy of the same being appeared next to the first. Its voice sounded exactly like the first being, but the body was merely mist in the form of the first.

          "I must tell him quickly." Yet another mist-filled form appeared on the other side of the first.

          The being in the middle looked toward the second mist-like figure.

          "Very well," the first being said, and the mist like creatures became no more than a memory, in fact Johnny thought that if he had blinked, he would have missed their very hasty exit. "You have power Johnny," the being continued, "You need only touch the gumball, and you will have everything you need."

          "What gumball?"

          "Duh. The one hanging from your neck."

          Once again Johnny remembered the cord that wrapped itself around his neck, and he began warily eyeing the small red gumball like pendant. If this gumball had anything to do with this being, then he was unsure he wanted anything to do with it, but after taking another look at the Gatling gun attached to the robot's arm, he slowly brought his hand close, his fingers finally touching the gumball.

          It duplicated, creating an identical red gumball that fell into his hand. He brought it to his teeth and bit down. It was gum! Johnny chewed it, but soon realized he felt no more powerful than before. Pulling the gum out of his mouth, he held it for only a moment before tossing it to the side.

          Johnny looked into the being's bulbous purple eyes.

          "I don't need gum," Johnny said with all the courage he could muster, which was not much, given that he did not want to anger this apparently all-powerful being. "What I need is a weapon. Something sharp." Johnny scanned the area around him for anything he could use. Seeing nothing, he snapped his fingers in frustration.

          "I knew you would understand." The being smiled while it spoke, fading further and further out of existence, as something next to Johnny reflected sunlight into his eyes.

          His eyes chased the bothersome shine to its source. That wasn't there before, he thought, his mind trying to find a logical answer to how a steel javelin came to lie on the ground within arm's reach, but the world began to move again.

          The being had vanished, and he could hear the high pitch scream of the spinning barrels on the Gatling gun attached to the Mech's arm.  

          Johnny's arm moved with the desire to live, grabbing the javelin and thrusting it into the largest of the three lenses on what he thought was the head of the robot.

          The Mech began moving its arms and legs in an odd dance that proved that it could no longer see. Johnny quickly got to his feet, and he moved out of the range of the robot's reach. At the corner of his eyes he saw his plasma gun lying on the ground behind the Mech. Avoiding the robot's arms was a dance in itself, but he successfully made it to the plasma gun.

          He did not see much when he pulled the trigger, only a flash and a burning hole that allowed him to see straight through the robot.

          Johnny watched as the robot's movements slowed and then stopped completely.

          Saving your own life is exhausting. The thought brought a small smile to Johnny's face. He exhaled slowly, leaning against the vehicle behind him and allowing his arms to go limp. 

          A small voice echoed across the junkyard, "You better let go of me if you know what's good for you!"

          Johnny's eyes widened.

          Bobby! The name thundered in his head, his legs already moving as he trailed the voice to its source. 

          In moments he was behind the robot that held Zane in the air by his shirt collar. Johnny waited for a clear shot, while Zane continued to threaten the second Mech.

          "Do you know who I am?" Zane yelled, as a jade beam moved from the top to the bottom of his face.

          "Identified… Rebel Zane…No known aliases." 

          "It's Big Z. They call me Big Z," Zane said through clenched teeth, as he tried to free his collar from the Mech's grip. 

          "Bounty... Twenty-six credits"  

          "What!" Zane yelled, as he immediately pointed his index finger at the Mech. "Big Z's worth more than that!"

          Johnny had finally found an angle, which did not also include putting a hole through Zane, and again one hole through the robot's chest was all it took for it to power down. 

          "Uh thanks. This tin can's just lucky you got to him before I did," Zane said, as he attempted to pull the collar of his shirt from the robot's grasp but failed. "Can you get me down?" The child sounded and acted so much like Bobby that Johnny wanted to laugh, but instead he simply let Zane down. 

          Johnny's eyes began searching the junkyard, looking for any more threats that might be lurking nearby. He had no desire to face another Mech, but he did not want one surprising them again.

          "And my bounty is really twenty-six million," Zane explained to Johnny as though everyone knew. "This Mech must have confused Big Z with someone--" 

          "Zane get on my back," Johnny interrupted. He had already bent to one knee, and with his back to Zane, he simply waited to be weighed down by an eight-year-old. He would have let Zane go on, but he knew the safest thing to do was get back to the hideout.

          "Huh?" Zane replied in confusion.

          "I'm faster, and we should probably get out of here," Johnny explained.

          Zane was heavier than Johnny expected. He did not remember Bobby ever being this heavy, but he had not ridden his younger brother on his back in almost a year. Who knew how much weight a child could put on in that amount of time?

          Johnny, however, was able to stand without much effort, making sure he had his balance before running toward the break in the wall that led to the sewers.

          Zane's laughter filled his ears, and he wanted to laugh as well, but his rider had begun crying out,

          "Faster!"

          So Johnny focused, watching his step as he began to speed up, his brother's laughter growing louder by the moment.

 

 

SCENE 13

 

          They were surrounded by junk. Discarded hover cars, bikes, and even tanks were buried here, as they raised the mountains of useless scrap metal ever higher.

          Unseen never wanted to become like the useless scrap metal that surrounded him. He did not want to be discarded. He wanted to remain useful, and he knew Iceage would keep him only as long as he was useful, but being useful meant also following orders, which was something Rabid's mad mind had never truly understood. He always wanted to do as he pleased, which usually meant ripping someone to pieces. However, this time Iceage wanted Rabid and Unseen to stay where they were, while the Mechs dealt with the child and the boy who Rabid had nearly killed earlier. 

          Unseen was in love with the plan from the start. Let the robots do all the work, as well as take all the risks, while they simply waited and collected the credits. Simple.

          But it was not so simple for Rabid.

          "Why do those tin cans get to kill'em? I should do it," Rabid grumbled. This was the fifth--No. This was the sixth time Unseen had heard Rabid complain.

          Unseen thought the plan was odd as well. The boy had no bounty on him, which meant that the Mechs would simply kill him. So why would Iceage not let Rabid kill boy at least? The small child was unknown to him, but how much could a child be worth anyway.

          However, as much as Unseen disagreed with not letting Rabid kill the boy, he was not about to voice his opinion, certainly not out loud, and especially not to Iceage.

          "Let me do it. Let me make them bleed," Rabid begged, and Unseen warily looked at his two comrades. He saw how Rabid stared at Iceage, his eyes singing a tune of madness louder than ever, but Iceage did not look at Rabid. He simply stared in the direction of the boy and the child, as he leaned his back against a stack of hover cars twice as tall as he was, and with his arms spread wide over the hood of one of the hover cars, he looked completely at ease, except when Unseen looked at his eyes. The blizzard that blew within Iceage's eyes seemed colder now.

          "Are you listening?…Iceage!" Unseen jumped as Rabid growled, bringing his snarling visage within inches of Iceage.

          But not an inch of Iceage even flinched, his eyes still locked in the direction of the boy and the child. Unseen had never seen Rabid throw his anger at Iceage directly, and he had never expected this response from the man who held winter in each hand.

          "I'm going down there," Rabid said, laughing as though he had gone completely mad, stopping his laughter abruptly after his large claws extended from his fingers. "And I'm gonna shred them to pieces."

          Rabid turned, and he took a step in the direction of the boy, but Unseen quickly heard a yelp. He thought a stray dog might have gotten in Rabid's way.

          Poor dog, he thought, until he saw ice clinging to the lower half of Rabid's legs. The ice began to rise, covering him like armor, but this armor would not protect his life. It sought only to take it. Unseen looked at the floor, and he saw a thin sheet of ice running along the ground from Iceage to Rabid.

          Unseen had watched this scene once before, and he felt his legs unable to move as he once again remembered the rebel Firefly.

          Firefly had made the mistake of fooling Iceage on more than one occasion. The worst was when the rebel managed to lure them into a Mech factory that was near completion. Firefly then tricked Iceage into helping him destroy the reactor.

          The rebel laughed, until he screamed when Iceage had made him into a frozen statue, his face twisted in terror as he realized how cruel Iceage truly was. 

          And it was happening again!

          Unseen looked into Rabid's eyes, but this time madness and anger were not the only things stirring within them. Fear bubbled to the surface. It was a fear that he knew the beast kept hidden. Crushed by an ocean of anger and madness, it still remained to remind him of his own mortality, as the beast's eyes seemed to beg Iceage for mercy.

          Unseen wanted to tell Iceage that Rabid was still useful. The beast was insane, but they could still use his strength, his tracking skills, his--

          "Unseen," Iceage said casually, acting as though the life burning within one of his subordinates was not being slowly extinguished. Unseen waited, but no order followed, Iceage did not even look in Unseen's direction.

          What did he want me to do? The question thundered in Unseen's mind, followed by fear, proceeded by fear. He knew it was always better to know what Iceage wanted before he gave the command, but now he hesitated, not knowing if he was going to be able to avoid his own icy death. He first looked downward, breathing a small sigh of relief when he saw no trace of ice coating the floor near his feet.

          Unseen then turned his gaze to Iceage, who still stared in the same direction. What did he want? Unseen thought, as he looked in the direction of the boy and the child. The child was being held in the air by his collar, while the boy lay on the ground, a Mech Guard standing over him as it scanned the boy's face.

          The boy was going to die, and so was Rabid.

          Did he want me to watch? Maybe Iceage wanted Unseen to witness death all around him. Maybe Iceage wanted to prove that death was the only option for those that got in his way. Unseen swallowed hard as he looked at Rabid.

          This is the worst part, he thought. Ice had already encased Rabid's arms, legs, and chest, as it continued rising to the bottom of the beast's neck. Unseen knew what would happen next. It was not enough for Iceage to strip a man's life away using ice alone.

          In the case of Firefly, when the ice had risen above the rebel's chest, frozen fingers stretched upward and encircled his neck, spiraling slowly around soft flesh until Iceage closed his hand, in order to choke what little life still remained in the rebel. Unseen remembered Firefly's mouth twisting in agony, his eyes rolling upward as if looking to some god for help, but no one came, except death, and with it an end to his suffering. 

          Unseen heard Rabid whimpering, and he wondered if the beast's cries even registered with Iceage, who continued to stare in the direction of the boy and the child. 

          Long thick tendrils of ice had already grown halfway up Rabid's neck, pushing hair away as they pressed close to his throat.

          A pit in Unseen's stomach began to grow as Iceage extended his arm forward. Iceage stretched his fingers. Then he began closing them slowly. Iceage, however, never even looked at Rabid or his hand. He simply continued to glare in the same direction. Unseen glanced in the direction of the boy and the child. His eyes widened as he saw one Mech slumped over, a spear protruding from its head and a small hole through its chest plate. The boy had also already shot the second Mech that was holding the child.

          This was Unseen's chance. He would warn Iceage that they were escaping. Rabid would be able to catch up to them quickly and--

          The corner of his eye that had been watching Iceage's hand witnessed it clench into a fist.

          For a moment Unseen forgot how to breathe, until he saw the ice fall off of Rabid, crumbling to the floor like small clear bits of glass that quickly created a pool of water at the beast's feet.

          "Follow them," Iceage commanded. His icy voice made Unseen jump. His frozen stare made him wish he was somewhere else. Anywhere else. Unseen watched as Rabid again bared his teeth less than a foot away from Iceage, a low growl emanating from the beast's throat. Iceage, however, continued to stare at Unseen, and Rabid quickly stood up straight, crossing his arms over his chest and thrusting his chin high into the air as he looked away from Iceage.

          "Hmph!" Rabid huffed. Unseen would have smiled, if not for Iceage glaring at him.

          Unseen looked in the direction of the boy and the child. The boy was running as fast as he could toward the hole in the wall that led back into the sewers, while the child clung to his back. They were getting away. Unseen glanced at Iceage. This was what he wanted. Iceage never meant to catch the boy or the child. He wanted the girl.

          Unseen leapt before he looked, tearing his eyes away from Iceage, only after his foot had touched the hood of the hover car in front of him. 

          So that is why Iceage made Rabid and Unseen travel five miles to yet another junkyard. Unseen had Kayla's file saved on his scanner. He had read it more than once, and he had looked at the picture too many times to count. Kayla aka Gadget. The name stayed in his mind as he moved along the hoods of discarded hover cars. He dreaded the thought of what would happen to the girl if Iceage found her again. Iceage would not let her go like he had let Rabid go. She had made a fool of him, just like Firefly, and she would be covered in cold armor, just like Firefly. Unseen sighed. He prayed that they would not find her. There were hundreds of rebels still hiding in Crysis City, and he prayed that the boy and the child would lead him to any one of them. Just not Kayla.

          He hoped she was okay, and wherever she was, he hoped she was smiling. Not for him of course. No one had any reason to smile at him. He was no longer the man he once was three years ago. He was what The Alchemist had made him. Unseen the lizard. Unseen the monster.

          But Kayla was no monster. She did not deserve a cold death, and Unseen really had no wish to see such a pretty face twist in agony.

 

          Unseen had followed the boy and the child for some time before they stopped at a passage that ended at a brick wall.

          He guessed that the sun was only a few hours from the horizon, and when he looked at the scanner strapped to his arm, the tiny numbers in the corner of the screen displaying the time confirmed it. It would be dark soon.

          The child touched three bricks on the wall, each one was more than two feet away from the last. The child then stepped back, and the wall changed, or rather the mask that was the brick wall disappeared. A large metal wall with a door in the bottom right corner now loomed in front of them.

          Unseen sighed. Clever. The word hung in his mind, acting like a brush as it painted a picture of the one woman he hoped was not beyond that steel wall.

          The boy and the child looked back before opening the door and going in, but Unseen knew his skin had blended perfectly with the concrete ceiling that he clung to. So he knew they saw nothing but an empty sewer passage behind them. Unseen saw the light from beyond the door spill out onto the paved bricks that made up the walkway. He stared, marveling at the brightness until the door closed behind them.

          Unseen knew Iceage was tracking him from above, waiting for him to whisper into his communicator that he had found their hideout. He thought about going down another passage, leading Iceage away and then telling him that he had lost track of the boy and the child, but he owed Iceage too much. Iceage had taken him from The Alchemist's lab. He still did not know why Iceage did it, but if not for the moment when a blizzard struck fear into that madman, Unseen would still be in that lab, suffering through even more experiments and worse, suffering through The Alchemist's mad laughter.

          Unseen swallowed hard, pushing away the lump in his throat as he brought the communicator to his lips, and whispered his location. 

 

 

SCENE 14

 

          After Johnny heard the metal door slam behind him, and after he heard the electronic deadbolt locks loudly resetting themselves, his senses were overwhelmed by sunlight for the second time. It screamed at him as it poured through large windows set along the walls.

          Johnny, however, knew they were still in the sewers, and that the light was as artificial as the electronic screens made to look like windows, but the light made the place shine with a quality that the sewers could not take away. He noticed that the amount of light coming through the windows had shifted. Now very little light came through the windows on the left, while the windows on the right still poured gallons of the sun's rays into the hideout each second. Amazing. The word bloomed in his mind as he realized that the electronic windows were not only bringing in light but also copying the movement of the sun.

          Johnny then looked ahead toward two cream colored armchairs that faced each other. The chairs were more than fifteen paces away, but they were the closest things to the door. A few feet beyond the chairs were two aqua-blue sofas that faced the door. A strange feeling forced Johnny's eyes to continue looking at the living room set. The first time he had entered the hideout, after Kayla and Zane had saved him, he felt the arrangement of the furniture was meant to be welcoming, as each visitor would be stepping almost directly into the living room, but, when he looked again at the unusual distance between the door and the sofa, he sensed that the arrangement was intended to watch every visitor, rather than welcome them.

          Johnny shook his head, instead choosing to gaze at a kitchen where a fridge, stove and sink sat side by side, rubbing elbows as they crowded an area no more than six-feet-wide. He had never seen such a small kitchen before, but it was a wonder that they had one in the sewers at all.

          Johnny's eyes then shifted to the left wall where three doors stood shut. He guessed these were their bedrooms, and although he did not know which one belonged to Kayla or Quinn, he knew which one belonged to Zane. On the middle door, a paper hung from two strips of tape. The words, "Do Not Enter" shared the top and the bottom of the page, while a crooked skull and crossbones dominated the middle. The whole thing was written in crayon of course, and placed at a height Zane could not possibly have reached. Kayla must have helped him place it, just as Johnny helped Bobby place his first, "Do Not Enter" sign.

          Johnny smiled, but his smile quickly faded when one of the doors opened and a tall man walked out. The man would have seemed normal, if not for the Kunai knives strapped to his thighs and a sword hilt peeking out over his shoulder.

          "Quinn!" Zane yelled, as Johnny watched him run toward the man carrying the sword on his back. "You should've seen what me and Johnny did. We took on two Mechs by ourselves."

          Two Mechs? Johnny thought. Maybe Zane was not like his brother. Bobby would have said there were twice as many.

          "Well there were really like five--no six of them. Yeah six," Zane added, and Johnny could not help but smile again.

          That's Bobby, he thought, his fingertips brushing against his pendant, while he eyed the gumball that dropped into his hand. Did I make that javelin? And if I did, how'd I do it? Johnny's mind searched for answers, replaying the scene with the odd little creature.

          Nothing.

          Johnny's mind drew a blank, as it was drawn away from the gumball.

          "And then, Johnny took out his plasma gun and was like pshheww, pshheww…" Johnny only glanced at Zane for a moment. He saw the child point his index finger like it was a gun, while continuing to make what was supposed to be the sound of a plasma gun firing.

          Johnny also noticed the look of growing concern on Quinn's face, but his mind went back to the gumball sitting in his palm.

          Replaying the scene in his mind for a second time produced no answers.

          Maybe I have to just concentrate, Johnny thought, and his eyes stared at the gumball, while his mind focused on a baseball.

          Nothing.

          His eyes narrowed in frustration, as he began to wonder if the alien creature and the second Mech were all just a dream.

          "Johnny took out two of them, and then I crushed the rest with my mental powers, but that's when the three tanks showed up…" Johnny only half-listened to Zane, but he wondered if by the end of the story Zane will have taken out Nightfire's entire army.

          Johnny watched Quinn drop to one knee. The man then placed one hand on Zane's shoulder.

          "Calm yourself. Now, tell me what happ--"

          "Kayla!" Zane screamed, running to Kayla as she exited one of the three doors. "You should've seen what me and Johnny did." Johnny's eyes lingered on her for a moment. He noticed how her hair shined, and he wondered whether all women washed and combed their hair in the middle of the day.

          He brought his gaze back to the gumball, snapping his fingers in frustration as he--

          His eyes widened when he saw the gumball instantly grow into a baseball.

          "You must be Johnny," Quinn said, and Johnny looked up. "Tell me what occurred."

          "Uh w-well t-two robots. I-I think you call them Mechs," Johnny began nervously, feeling the heat of Quinn's penetrating stare. "T-They attacked me and Zane. I shot one with the blaster. The other I--"

          "Only two?" Quinn questioned, rubbing his chin as his eyes scanned the floor. "More should have come if they were simply patrolling, unless… someone was controlling--." Johnny saw Quinn's eyes widen. He quickly turned to Kayla. "Kayla! We must--"  

          Johnny felt it before he heard it. The pressure that threatened to push him to the ground, the vibration that forced him to fight for balance, as a loud explosion quickly blew a sandstorm of debris into the room in the space of heartbeat. The world slowed, and the cloud of debris began dissipating, as a high pitch ring stole the sound from his ears.

          Johnny looked back at the entrance, but now there was a large hole where the metal door and wall should have been. Beyond the hole was the sewers. He knew it, but could not see it, due to a curtain of black smoke that filled the sewer passage just beyond the hideout. He stared into darkness, into smoke thrown up from an explosion that yet had no meaning, but then he saw it.

          Light reflected off reinforced steel, as machines twice as tall as a man stepped through the darkness, allowing Johnny to finally identify who had caused the explosion.

          Mechs! his mind screamed.

          The Mechs fired wildly as they flooded into the hideout. Johnny could see everything, but he could hear nothing, the ringing in his ears playing a constant note that pushed outward, allowing no sound to enter.

          A hand wrapped itself around Johnny's wrist, and he saw Quinn mouth the word, "Move!" as the man pulled him toward the couches. For a brief moment he wondered how a couch would protect them against machine gun bullets, but a moment later he was in a seated position behind one, breathing deeply, wondering why he had not been shredded by so many bullets.

          The ringing in his ears stopped, and the world came alive with a symphony of gunfire. It was a melody that called for their deaths, but oddly none of them heard it as Johnny placed his hand against the back of the sofa.

          Steel? Johnny wondered, and with a confused look on his face, he watched Quinn grab one of the Kunai knives that were strapped to his legs. 

          "Preparation is the key to preservation!" Quinn yelled, but with the never-ending song of gunfire playing, Johnny had to strain his ears to hear him.

          Quinn threw the knife, apparently aiming for something at the back of the hideout. Johnny saw the knife hit a button, and then he watched the roof of the hideout come alive. Small sections more than three-feet-wide moved downward, spinning to reveal large plasma cannons on the other side.

          The plasma cannon began firing, adding even more instruments to this ballad of destruction. Johnny placed his hands over his ears, wishing his hearing had not come back.

          Bullets and plasma beams danced above him. One after another the plasma cannons on the ceiling were shot down. Johnny did not know how many Mechs had been destroyed, and he did not dare raise his head past the safety of the couch, but he hoped that they would all be destroyed before the last plasma cannon was shot down.  

          He felt a hand grab his wrist, pulling his hand away from his ear.

          "When……opens…run!" Johnny could barely hear Quinn, even though he yelled from only a foot away. However, when he looked at where Quinn pointed, everything became clear. He could see Kayla and Zane lifting a manhole cover by turning a crank. That was their escape route. The manhole cover was at least forty-feet-away from where Johnny sat, and with the sea of gunfire all around him, he wondered if he would even make it to the exit, before his body was perforated by bullets.

          Johnny quickly crouched low, leaning forward and placing his weight on the balls of his feet, as he readied himself to attempt to outrun an army of bullets.

          But then he saw Zane look back, and he saw the fear in Zane's eyes. 

          Johnny looked back in the same direction, his eyes widening when he saw a Mech that was hovering close to the ceiling shoot out its arm in Kayla and Zane's direction. Johnny's warnings were drowned out by gunfire. He knew it, even as he screamed for them to run.

          Zane must have seen the angle. He must have known Kayla was the machine's target. That was the only explanation why an eight-year-old would push a woman to the floor. Johnny watched, finding it impossible to breathe as the Mech's hand that had aimed for Kayla closed around Zane instead. 

          Kayla reached for Zane, and Johnny hoped that she would be able to pull him out of the Mech's three-fingered grip, but before she could reach him, the metal cord that attached the Mech's hand to its arm had already begun reeling Zane back in.

          There were so many bullets. Johnny knew he would almost certainly die before reaching Zane, and how would he take down a Mech that was in the air.

          He felt his body stiffen. He felt his fear setting in, coiling around his body as it tried to hold him in place, but he forced it away with anger. The same anger he had thrown at himself for failing to save his own brother three months ago.

          I won't lose Bobby twice! The words thundered in Johnny's mind, as he grabbed the plasma gun still tucked halfway into his belt and launched himself forward.

          Or at least he would have launched himself forward, if not for the hand that grasped his shoulder, bringing him down, his back hitting the floor as he was pulled once again behind the couch. He looked up, and saw Quinn looking down at him.

          "Do you wish to die?" Quinn asked, and Johnny again had to use his eyes in order read Quinn's lips, but when he saw Quinn throw another knife and hit the same button in order to turn off the plasma cannons hanging from the ceiling, he wanted to pose the same question to Quinn. "No. I do not wish to die either, but if we continue to fire Zane may be killed," Quinn said, but Johnny simply stared as he tried to figure out how Quinn knew what he was thinking.

          Could he read minds? Or am I just easy to read? Johnny wondered.

          Even crouched behind the sofa, Quinn seemed at ease as he pulled his sword from its sheath.

          "Run for that hatch, and escape with Kayla. No matter what she says. I will attempt to retrieve Zane and follow," he instructed. Johnny knew Quinn was dangerous. He held his sword with far too much confidence to not know how to use it, but Johnny had already watched as his brother was taken from him once before. He would not do it again. This time he would save Bobby.

          "You go to the hatch. I'll get Bobby," Johnny said.

          "Who?"

          "Zane. I--I meant I'll get Zane." 

          Even though Zane looked and even acted like Bobby, Johnny knew the child was not his brother, but saving Zane was…his chance at redemption.

          "There are more than ten Mechs out there, and Iceage and Rabid. What can you do?" Quinn asked. His words made Johnny stare at the small plasma gun in his hand, until he remembered how a snap of his finger could bring his thoughts to life. Johnny touched the gumball pendant, and an identical gumball fell into the palm of his hand. He stared at the gumball as he thought about the possibilities.

          Yeah. What can I do? he wondered. He had not noticed that the Mechs were no longer shooting until he peeked over the couch, his eyes narrowing when he saw that the Mech that held Zane had already landed behind Iceage, joining another half dozen Mechs that also hid behind him. Four Mechs stood in front of Iceage, forming a wall of circuitry and steel. There was no way to go around them. So Johnny decided that he would simply go through them.

           Impatience made him step out from behind the sofa. His plan had only gone as far as him acknowledging that he would need four gumballs, which he quickly placed in his hand. Johnny could have worked out a plan if he had more time, but as soon as he stepped into the open, he saw the four Mechs point their Gatling guns at him, their barrels already beginning to spin.  

          Johnny quickly threw all four gumballs in front of him, snapping his fingers as soon as they hit the ground. His mind pictured steel beams. Four of them, each one extending through one of the four Mechs.

          In an instant each gumball grew into a steel beam, extending outward, the speed of their growth causing them to tear through the chest plate and back plate of each of the four Mechs.

          So each transformation will be exactly as I picture it in my head, Johnny thought, realizing how lucky he was that the large Mechs were too slow to dodge the gumball's transformation. Sparks flew from each Mech, the barrels of their Gatling guns slowing until they stopped completely.

          Johnny felt himself taking deeper breaths as though he had just ended a short sprint. Maybe it was the fact that he had just escaped death, or maybe it was because he now stared at Iceage.

          Looking into the man's cold blue eyes made him feel as though he stood alone under a snowy peak, knowing full well that an avalanche could come down at any time and sweep him away. Johnny felt his knees tremble, but he would not fail his brother. Not again.

          "Let Zane go!" Johnny yelled, realizing his mistake as soon as the words had left his mouth. The man in front of him did not take orders. Frost rose from the corners of Iceage's narrow eyes.

          Johnny had dared to scream at the mountain top, and now an avalanche was on its way.

          "Mech Guards, Attack pattern alpha," Iceage commanded, and five Mechs moved forward to stand between Johnny and Iceage. "Kill him!"

          Again Gatling guns were raised in Johnny's direction, and again they began to spin. Johnny knew he could not grab five gumballs before at least one of the spinning barrels gunned him down. So instead his mind sought out a single transformation, and as he touched the gumball pendant, his mind found what it had been searching for.

          He quickly threw a gumball ahead of him, snapping his fingers before it even hit the floor, picturing a large steel wall thick enough to deflect bullets. The massive steel wall grew in an instant, towering over Johnny and the five Mechs. However, the steel wall stood at an angle, as if it were already falling over. Johnny heard their Gatling guns firing. He heard the orchestra of bullets bouncing off of the other side of the wall, and then he heard silence, after the wall fell on top of the Mechs, crushing all five at once under two-feet of heavy steel.

          Johnny's legs went numb, and he fought just to remain standing as he swallowed huge gulps of air.

          "Just give us Zane," he said. He wanted his words to sound like a request, but anger had set in, giving his voice an edge that made his request seem more like a demand.

          Johnny glanced to his right, where he saw Quinn staring at him, his eyebrows high on his forehead as if he did not know what to make of what Johnny had done.

          Johnny nodded to the back of the hideout where he knew Kayla was waiting. Quinn hesitated for a moment, shuffling his feet before sheathing his sword and dashing away.

          Johnny looked again in Iceage's direction. He saw Rabid take a step back, and Unseen's head constantly whipped toward the large hole behind them, as if wondering whether to stay or retreat. He hoped that they would let Zane go. He had showed enough strength. Now the villains were supposed to scurry back to the holes where they came from, at least that was how it went in the comics, but instead Johnny found himself sighing heavily as Iceage stepped forward, and stood on the wall that had crushed his Mechs.

          Johnny looked into Iceage's eyes. He saw no compassion, no sympathy, no kindness, and most of all, no fear. Iceage would not give Zane back unless Johnny proved he was more powerful than a blizzard. His legs moved on their own, and as numb as they were he barely felt himself step onto the twenty-four-inch-thick wall he had created.

          Johnny knew the man controlled ice, but what he did not know was how to counter it.

          No. Not counter, Johnny thought, I have to crush whatever he throws at me.

          Iceage quickly extended his hand forward, frost already swirling at his fingertips as Johnny's mind frantically searched for an attack that even a man without fear would acknowledge.

          If I can create solids, then-- Johnny had no more time to think. He saw the frozen wind beginning to shoot toward him. He touched his gumball pendant, tossing a gumball forward and snapping his fingers, as he focused on fire so hot that it would turn frozen air to ash.

          Summer met winter, turning frost into steam between them. Seeing that the blaze of heat he created was quickly being overwhelmed by the continuous frozen wind that blew from Iceage's hand, Johnny hurled gumball after gumball, transforming them into searing balls of heat that pushed the frost further and further back until he had scorched the hand that commanded winter.

          Johnny's body ached, and with each breath he tried desperately to take in as much air as possible.

          Iceage stared at him, one hand holding the other in an attempt to shield it from further burns. Johnny hoped he had broken the man, but the way Iceage glared at him made him tap his finger against his pendant.

          Iceage waved his hand upward in an arc. Johnny watched the man's hand only to realize that he was looking at the wrong thing, his eyes widening as mountains of ice as tall as Iceage began quickly erupting up from the ground, one in front of the other, creating a line of jagged peaks that were leading straight for Johnny.

          Even if his body did not feel like he had just run a marathon, he would have been hard pressed to dodge the glaciers that were headed his way. So he tossed the gumball forward, snapping his fingers as he now thought of an inferno that would melt ice in an instant.

          And it did. The explosion of fire meeting ice caused water to rain down on Johnny. He tried his best not to collapse on the floor, even though his body screamed for him to rest. Instead, he simply stared at Iceage as water began to saturate his clothes and hair, glaring at the man until he thought he had caught his breath enough to speak.

          Johnny slowly opened his mouth. His lips began forming the words he wanted to say, the demand he knew he had to make because, as he looked into Iceage's eyes, he realized there was no way to strike fear into that man.

          He only hoped his voice did not sound as weak as he felt.

 

                  

              _______________

 

 

          Impossible! The word anchored itself at the front of Iceage's mind. Only three people had ever stopped his ice once it had already formed. Two were rebels. The third was that machine masquerading as a man, hiding in his black tower. The usurper to Iceage's throne.

          His thoughts once again settled on the boy. If he was this powerful, then why would he allow himself to almost be killed by Rabid in that hangar? Unless… he was simply making a fool of Iceage's Death Squad.

          That had to be the reason. No one was foolish enough to sit in the open outside of the city limits.

          Iceage's eyes narrowed. The girl must have been in on it as well. Why else would she act as if she was coming to his rescue? It was all just a game. The boy feigned weakness, while he held this level of power at his fingertips.

          "Give him back--" the boy growled, but his words were cut off by a sudden fit of coughing. Iceage watched the boy fall to one knee, the color of blood painting his fingers as he took his hand away from his mouth. The boy was vulnerable now, or maybe that is just what he wanted Iceage to think. The boy seemed completely out of breath as he stood once again, staggering while he glared, as though he were my equal!

          Iceage thought twice about attacking, and then a third time as his hand hesitated in another sweeping movement.

          H--He's faking his fatigue. I know it…I think, Iceage thought indecisively, causing him to stand without purpose, staring at the boy, but not knowing what to do. The boy covered his mouth again as he stifled another cough, but he kept his hand pressed against his lips. Maybe just in case he coughed again? Or...

          Maybe he's hiding a smile behind that hand. Is he laughing at me? Iceage's thoughts caused him to grind his teeth as he clenched his jaw tighter and tighter, wondering what he should do.

          Kill them all! A voice from within him called, and Iceage listened, answering with a smile that grew only on one side of his face. No one makes a fool of me!

          Iceage realized that the boy would counter anything he threw at him. So he would use an attack that almost no one could stop.

          "Assault Mech," he commanded, and he heard the Assault Mech's missiles readying, as all the tiny panels on the box atop its shoulders flipped open. The boy's eyes widened, and Iceage grinned widely, knowing that the boy now understood that he had only moments left before death. Iceage realized that he would most likely destroy the hideout along with the rebels, but he did not care, the time for turning this Kayla girl into a frozen statue had passed. Now he simply wanted them all dead, and the laughter that the boy was hiding behind that hand made to stop for all eternity.

          "Fire all missiles," Iceage ordered, and he waited for all the ballistic missiles, fired by the assault Mech to pass him before erecting a three-foot-thick wall of ice around himself, Unseen, Rabid, the Assault Mech, and the Mech Guard holding the child. The ice served as both a shield and a window with which to watch the destruction of his enemies. However, the instant he thickened the ice, he saw the boy let a small red gumball drop to the ground, the boy rolling backwards as a huge steel wall was erected in an instant.

          So he was faking, Iceage realized. The thought made him grind his teeth once more, but it also made him wonder about the boy. 

          It was one thing to be behind the blast of so many missiles. Iceage would only have to deal with stopping the residual effects of the explosion, as it expanded away from the blast area, but to be staring down more than twenty B2 missiles. To be in front of the blast believing you could stop it.

          Impossible, Iceage thought, doubting that even he could stop an explosion that large without at least a few injuries.

          So he watched as fire swallowed the space outside his icy shield, dissipating slowly and leaving a cloud of black smoke that lingered for far longer than he wanted.

          "Think you went a little overboard?" Unseen asked, leaning over to Iceage as Rabid laughed.

          "Even I wouldn't have fired all the missiles," Rabid added, as he laughed again. "And I'm supposed to be the nut job."

          "Oh shut up," Iceage replied, never taking his eyes off of the cloud of dust. He forced his ice shield to melt away, giving him a better view of the room. 

          When the smoke finally cleared, he saw nothing but rubble. Whatever wall the boy put up had been destroyed, but Iceage saw no blood, no sign that the boy or either of his rebel friends had been blown to pieces. Iceage thought hard, as he tried to think of any Supers capable of surviving such an attack besides himself and Nightfire. 

          "They probably escaped through that hatch." Rabid pointed to the back of the hideout where a manhole cover was partially buried by the ceiling that had fallen. "I'll go after them," Rabid volunteered, as he charged forward.

          "No!" Iceage called out, and Rabid stopped. "We will report back to Nightfire."

 

 

SCENE 15

 

          Orrin continued to look into the large crystal ball, and the sewer of Crysis City stared back at him. The sewer's concrete ceiling was a blur, a river of grey that looked as though it was flowing past him at an alarming speed.

          Kayla held a glow stick that lit a small area ahead of her, but it was not the only source of light in the sewer. Orrin's eyes moved to the sewage that ran between the walkways, and he saw it was ablaze with color. Fish of every hue glowed as they swam within the green muck, creating just enough light for anyone to be able to travel along the cobblestone walkways safely. 

          Johnny was on his back, unconscious on a bed that appeared to hover as it followed closely behind Kayla. Orrin had seen her take the cylindrical device out of her bag. He had seen her press a button, and he had watched as metal extended and shifted to become the floating stretcher that Quinn had laid Johnny onto. Another device wrapped itself tightly around Johnny's wrist, monitoring his pulse.

          The girl was well prepared it seemed, and as the bed hovered no more than two-feet-away from her waist at all times, Orrin wondered what other gadgets she kept in her pink teddy bear backpack.

          Orrin's thoughts went back to The Council. He knew they kept tabs on every watcher, forcing every Kalar in the third dimension to be telepathically linked to them at all times, leaving their minds open for any member to look into whenever they desired. Orrin could feel them always, as though they were right over his shoulder, seeing whatever he saw, feeling whatever he felt. The Council claimed it was to stop the fourth dimensional Kalar from intervening in third dimensional affairs, but Orrin had never believed that to be the only reason.

          At times he could feel members of The Council Kalar rummaging through his memories, even attempting to plant thoughts and notions into his mind. It seemed to happen more of late, and even more frequently after he had discovered that odd planet.

          Since that time Orrin began hiding his memories of that odd planet, detaching a part of his consciousness when he began viewing Crysis City through his crystal ball. The Council would think that he had given up trying to look into the planet, but they would continue to search his mind from time to time, wondering if his eyes ever took another look behind the crimson curtain that surrounded that odd planet.

          "I should have hidden my thoughts sooner," Orrin whispered.     

          He had felt too many members of The Council Kalar peering into his mind shortly after his first trip into Crysis City.

          Orrin could never determine exactly which council members were rummaging through his thoughts, nor what they were searching for, given that they always kept their minds closed to him as they poked around in his head, but now he would fill his shared conscious with only what he wanted them to see.

          The Council would eventually realize what he was doing, but before they did, he hoped he would have solved the mystery behind that odd planet. However, nothing about the planet made sense, and Orrin's only theory was far too dangerous for him to even consider.

          But those thoughts were for later. There were more pressing matters that demanded his attention. The boy was unconscious. Orrin knew overusing the power he had given Johnny came with a price, and the boy seemed far too eager to pay it.

          Orrin checked that his mental barriers which hid part of his mind from The Council were still in place. They were. So he closed his eyes and he sought out Johnny, once again using his connection to the gumball pendant as a gateway into Johnny's mind. 

 

          Orrin opened his eyes, and he marveled at his surroundings. He noticed that a black sea dominated the landscape, stretching outward endlessly in every direction. Stars worked together with a half moon, succeeding in bringing a glow to the perpetual night.

          So this is the state of the boy's heart, a ghostly copy of Orrin whispered.

          Concern created creases on Orrin's forehead as he realized that there was no sun. There was only a dark ocean under a night sky.

          Orrin knew he did not have much time. He could already feel his connection to Johnny's mind weakening. So he cast his bulbous eyes over the sea in search of the boy. 

          He spotted Johnny in the distance, floating face up in the dark water. Orrin vanished, only to reappear above Johnny in the blink of his eye. Orrin's eyes narrowed as he watched a steady stream of tears flowing from the boy's eyes to the dark sea he floated in.  

          Orrin used his enhanced vision to look closely at Johnny's tears, and in each tear he saw the same memory of Johnny's younger brother. Orrin's eyes narrowed further as he looked at the water below, realizing that every drop of this dark sea held the same tragic memory of his younger brother.

          Johnny had created this black ocean, flooding his heart with tears until there was nothing but darkness flowing all around him, but oddly the boy floated on the surface of his own sadness, neither drowning in it nor attempting to be free of it. It was as if the boy had accepted this as his world, a world where sorrow embraced him.

          Orrin moved close to Johnny. He let his fingers touch the pendant, grabbing the gumball it produced before retreating a few feet away from the boy. Orrin eyed the gumball, and then he tossed it in his mouth.

          Just as I suspected…, another ghost whispered, as Orrin continued chewing. ...Strawberry.

          Orrin waved his hand, and Johnny winced as a handful of water splashed against his face. The boy's eyes began to open, slowly at first, but then they widened quickly as he sat up with a start.

          "Bobby!" Johnny's head whipped from side to side, his eyes slowly narrowing. Orrin knew that the boy now realized he was no longer in Kayla's hideout. 

          "I believe you mean, Zane," Orrin said, and he saw Johnny's eyes quickly trail the voice back to its source. The boy sighing when he realized who had spoken.

          "You again?" Johnny asked. He looked at his surroundings once more. "Where am I?"    

          "You are safe," Orrin said, as tears continued to stream down the boy's face, but oddly Johnny did not once attempt to wipe them away.

          "You brought me here?"

          "Your mind has created this place," Orrin said, while he shook his. "I am… merely a guest." He looked downward and saw his hand fading. "I can never grant myself enough time."

          I must tell him quickly, a ghost insisted, but Orrin did not look at the specter. He kept his eyes on Johnny, who now stood up.   

          "Tell me what?"     

          "Your power, Johnny. It comes with a price. The pendant will provide unlimited gumballs for you to transform, but each transformation will steal your energy, until you are exhausted. After that, every transformation will begin to steal your life-force." Orrin blinked and vanished, reappearing in front of Johnny, one finger pressed against the gumball pendant. He caught the gumball that was produced, holding it only inches away from Johnny's eyes. "Do you understand? If you push yourself too far, this power will kill you."

          A short laugh escaped Johnny's lips, and Orrin could see the small smirk forming on the boy's face. 

          Johnny touched the pendant. He looked at the gumball that fell into his hand for only a second, before he tossed it into his mouth and began to chew.

          "Y--You must take this seriously, Johnny. Your life--"

          "Do you know where they took Zane?"

          Orrin stared at the boy once more, trying to understand why...Why does he not cherish his own--

          "No." Orrin silenced the ghost that appeared before it could relay his thoughts aloud. "I do not know where they have taken the child," he answered. He felt a pull, and this time he saw that his chest began to fade. Orrin sighed. "It seems our time is almost at its end." Orrin saw his arms and legs beginning to fade as well, his body becoming more like the specters that repeated his every thought.

          "There is one last thing you must know about the gumballs," Orrin said, pushing hard to keep himself from fading so far out of this existence that the boy would not be able to hear him. "It is important." Johnny had stopped chewing, and the boy moved his head forward in order to hear Orrin's fading voice. "You must not worry...” Orrin's body continued to fade. "The gumballs. They are...” Orrin's voice had almost vanished from this place. So he decided to yell, knowing that the boy would only hear his voice as a whisper.

          “They are sugarless!”

          Orrin continued to fade until he found himself back in space above the odd planet, his crystal ball floating in front of him, giving him a view that was almost completely masked in shadows. He sighed, knowing that he would have to simply continue watching until the boy got up and gave him a better view.

 

 

              _______________

 

 

          Gizmo was surrounded by an army of screens. Some showed wavelengths, while others showed numbers, which would move up or down by two or three degrees, only to move back by the same amount.

          Today Gizmo watched the screen that monitored Nightfire's power. The wavelength sloped upward and downward, showing a row of never-ending hills. The same identical hills he had seen for far too long. He pulled his gaze away from the screen, after what felt like the longest thirty seconds of his life.

          "No change," he said to himself, as he wrote his findings in his log book. He tossed the log book on the table, rubbing his forehead with his index and thumb fingers and sighing heavily. There had not been a significant change in Nightfire's vitals for the past six years, ever since Gizmo had set up this lab.

          Gizmo wondered if he had made the right decision when he agreed to help the small cloaked being that had appeared before him so many years ago. Though he doubted he would be alive if he would have refused the odd creature's offer.

          "The chance to study a power no mortal has ever known." Gizmo whispered the words that the strange being had said to him.

          Six years! he thought, slamming his fist into the table. Six years and he had barely learned anything about the power Nightfire used.

          The design for Nightfire's armor had come from the strange being, and Gizmo had quickly worked out how the robotic parts absorbed the energy Nightfire used, but he still had no clue as to what the energy was, or where it came from. He began to wonder if the answers required an intellect higher than his, and his eyes narrowed as Kayla's name bloomed in his mind.

          He wondered if she would ever agree to have his child. Gizmo did not have the least bit of affection for that upstart. She was crude, messy and at the age of eighteen still had not mastered antigravity. However, her genes would give him the best chance of a child with a level seven intellect or higher.

          The thought of having a child that might have a level nine intellect brought a smile to Gizmo's face, but it quickly faded as he remembered how Kayla had answered his holographic request, even after he had offered to allow her to keep the child if it showed an intellect that was less than a level seven. What use did he have for a child with an intellect lower than his?

          He waved the idea away. Cloning himself was easier, and it would guarantee a level seven intellect. But no higher, Gizmo thought, as he looked downward. Maybe he could send Kayla another holographic message. This time with a bouquet of flowe--

          Gizmo's eyes widened when he heard the sound of beeps multiplying. He looked up at the screen monitoring Nightfire's heart, but he saw no change.

          However, the monitor displaying Nightfire's power output showed a second wavelength.

          At first Gizmo thought it might be Nightfire's as well, but when he adjusted his glasses, he saw that the second wavelength's slopes were the opposite of Nightfire's, rising when Nightfire's fell and vice versa.    

          "Interesting," Gizmo whispered, and he almost jumped when the being responsible for all this appeared in his lab.

          The creature arrived dressed as always in the same hooded cloak, brown shirt and baggy trousers. The being floated as it stared at Gizmo, its skin so dark that Gizmo felt as if he was staring at a shadow. He had never seen the being's boots touch the floor. He began wondering--

          "You have seen the anomaly?" the strange being asked, its voice never more than a whisper. Oddly enough the being always whispered, as if it thought someone or something might hear his voice if he spoke too loud.  

          "Y-Yes. Maybe you can explain these numb--."

          "The subject must be warned," the being interrupted.

          Gizmo's finger flipped the switch on the band of his watch, turning on his omni-scanner. He had created it in order to scan as many frequencies as possible. Knowing what kind of power the strange being used might bring him closer to figuring out the source of Nightfire's power as well. Gizmo watched the creature as it turned around, beginning to float away before stopping suddenly and turning its head to one side.

          "Do not peer too closely mortal, even you can be replaced," the creature said, again whispering.

          Gizmo responded with only a smile, one that lingered only until the strange creature vanished. He took a deep breath, sighing heavily before he moved to the communicator that gave him a direct link to Nightfire, again wondering if he had made the right decision.

 

 

               _______________

 

 

          In a small room, where a dim bulb allowed shadows to loom and dominate every corner, Kayla squinted, but she could still only see the outline of Quinn who sat in a wooden chair in the corner. Kayla knew she too must have seemed more like a shadow as she stood in her own corner, her back leaning against the wall. She chose to turn her gaze to Johnny who was still unconscious, sleeping silently on a bed as Helena tended to his wounds.

          Helena was thin, her arms seeming like skin simply stretched over bone. A loose fitting gown crowded with flowers of every color stretched from her neckline to her ankles, revealing thick grey socks that were stuffed into furry grey slippers.

          Kayla saw that time had stripped Helena of many things. It had drawn so many wrinkles on her once smooth and pretty face, taken her hair and dyed it grey, took the speed from her movements, making her look as though she was always in slow motion. But Kayla realized that Helena had also gained much in her almost nine decades of life. She watched Helena move not with speed but with efficiency.

          With a cloth in her right hand, Helena cleaned a gash on Johnny's arm, as her left hand tipped a bottle of alcohol onto a cotton ball. She then passed the cotton ball to her right hand, dabbing at the gash, while her left hand picked up a needle and threaded it! It was not the first time Kayla had seen Helena thread a needle with one hand, but she still marveled at how easily Helena's five fingers accomplished the impossible.

          Kayla's eyes focused on Johnny once more. With parts of his arms and his stomach wrapped in bandages, he was beginning to look as though he was being mummified. Johnny's head, however, was the exception. Thankfully the boy's face had come out of the blast practically unscathed, only a small bandage clung to his cheek under his right eye, an eye that had remained shut for far too long.  

          Kayla began imagining Johnny's brown eyes opening, looking up at her face as her smile eased his pain. She allowed her daydream to continue, until a pinch of pain told her that she had bitten too far into the nail on her index finger.

          She quickly pulled her finger away from her lips, and she was relieved when she saw that there was no blood.

          Kayla's eyes searched her other fingers, but she quickly realized that her teeth had trimmed all of her other nails as far as they could go. Frustrated, she plunged her hands into her pockets, wondering why she was so worried. She had seen people die. The Crysis War six years ago had shown her a river of blood, and with a bounty on every rebel's head, Kayla was frequently adding names to the list of captured or dead comrades, but she had never allowed herself to worry too much about it. Quinn had taught her that mourning was for when the battle was over.

          So why am I so worried about him? Kayla thought.

          She barely knew Johnny, and she was fairly certain he would live through his injuries, but Kayla had wanted, or rather needed to see him open his eyes, to know for certain that he was okay and for her to be the first thing he saw.  

          Why is he all I can think about?

          Johnny was not the most handsome boy she had ever seen. There were many rebels that she considered better looking. Flash from The Raiders was one of them. The man was so handsome that he bordered on being considered pretty, and like most women, Kayla enjoyed staring at him. She enjoyed smiling at every compliment and wink he threw her way.

          But she never cared about her split ends when Flash was around. She never cared if her clothes had stains or if her nails were manicured.

          Only with Johnny.

          Is he hiding another set of powers? Kayla wondered. Along with making things appear out of thin air, maybe Johnny could also influence a person's thoughts. She suspected the boy may have already used this power on her, but Kayla then began to wonder, if Johnny had cast some spell on her, did she even want it to be undone, or--

          "I have never known you to be so worried over a boy Gadget." Helena's voice interrupted Kayla's thoughts, forcing her to stare wide-eyed at the old woman.

          Kayla could feel her face growing warmer. She wanted desperately to reply, but for some reason the words would not form on her lips.

          "I--I just don't want him to uh t--to die. That's all," Kayla said nervously. She knew what she said was not the whole truth, but she tried her best to believe it was as she looked from Helena to Quinn.

          Quinn was still all shadow, but she could see the silhouette of his face looking her way, his expression hidden from her. 

          "Don't worry. He'll live," Helena said, and Kayla watched her begin packing away her medical supplies.

          A low groan emanated from where Johnny slept. Kayla's eyes shifted and she saw Johnny looking at her, his brown eyes making her heart feel lighter.

          "Johnny!" Kayla said with too much enthusiasm. She cleared her throat, attempting to take control of her emotions. "You're awake." She tried to speak in a level tone, but she realized there was still far too much happiness in her voice.

          "Ah good. I'll make you some tea," Helena said, and she began walking out of the room.

          "Now that you can look after yourself." The words came from a shadow hidden in the corner, and Kayla turned her gaze toward Quinn as he walked up to Johnny's bed. "I can attempt to retrieve Zane," Quinn said. He slung his sword over his shoulder, and he walked out of the room without looking back. 

          "Wait," Johnny said weakly, and Kayla looked at the boy as he struggled to sit up. She moved quickly, standing next to his bed as she placed a hand on his chest.

          "You can't--" she managed to say, before she saw him staring up at her. Kayla thought to hold him down, but when his brown eyes met her's, she began to realize how fast her heart was beating.

          She quickly pulled her hand away, stepping back as she looked away from him.

          "You'll reopen your wounds," she said meekly, as she bit her lip, angry at how easily Johnny could throw her sensibilities off, but Kayla's words might as well not have been spoken at all, given that he threw back his covers and stepped out of bed, wearing only his boxers!

          A flash of heat washed over Kayla's body, and she quickly turned around. She kept her eyes closed as beads of sweat began forming on her forehead.

          Kayla heard clothes rustling behind her as her mind tried to match the sounds to each piece of clothing, wondering when it would be a good time to turn around and convince Johnny that staying in bed was the best thing to do. That is until the sound of footsteps told her that he was walking out of the room.

          Kayla turned her head toward the door.

          "Wait," she said, chasing after Johnny as he walked out of the room, pulling his sleeveless hoodie over his head. "Johnny, you're hurt."

          "It's just a few scratches," he replied, as his head popped out of the top of his hoodie, but Kayla grabbed his arm, steadying herself and taking a deep breath. She would make him see reason.

          "It's more than a few scratches. Your ribs are--"

          "Not important," Johnny interrupted, turning his head and setting his brown eyes against her. "Not right now anyway." Kayla continued to look at Johnny even though she felt as though she might melt under his gaze. "Don't worry," he began, and Kayla's eyes widened as he touched his gumball pendant a number of times, quickly creating a handful of gumballs. "As long as I can do this…" She saw him snap his fingers, and the gumballs became a bright red box with a yellow bow tied neatly at the top. "I'll be fine."

          Kayla looked away for a moment, gathering herself and trying to choose her next words carefully before looking back at him.

          "Quinn's long gone, and you don't even know how to get to where Zane is," Kayla said, thinking she had cornered the boy.

          "Then I'll just follow you," Johnny replied, smiling now as he looked at her. Kayla felt a tingle beginning at the back of her neck, but she pushed the feeling away, continuing to stare upward at him, determined not to lose her nerve to a pair of average brown eyes and a quick smile.

          "Just show him the way, Gadget," Helena said, "Men like to think they're made of iron, and the younger they are, the more they want to believe it."

          "But--"

          "You'll never win anyway. Not in your condition, and especially if you keep staring at him like that."

          Kayla sighed, rolling her eyes as she looked away from Johnny.

          "Our contacts say Zane's being held at Stonegate prison. Just follow me," she said, walking around Johnny. He, however, did not follow immediately. Kayla saw Johnny give the box he created to Helena before he thanked the old woman. He quickly turned around, finally walking to Kayla who stood next to the door that headed out to Helena's garden, and to the secret sewer passage hidden below her flower bed.

          Kayla placed her hand on the doorknob.

          "Gadget," Helena called, and Kayla's eyes turned to the old woman, who now wore a wry smile as she looked into the box that Johnny had given her. "Don't let him out of your sight," she said, as her smile grew larger. "For his own good of course."

          Kayla sensed there was more to Helena's words, but she simply nodded, choosing to open the door instead of ponder the meaning behind them.

          "And remember what's yours belongs to you. Don't let another woman take it from you." Helena finished her words with a wink and a glance at Johnny. Kayla froze, hoping that Johnny did not realize what Helena meant, but Johnny leaned his head close to Kayla's and asked,

          "What's she talking about? Take what from you--"

          "Nothing!" Kayla quickly replied in a voice that was too high pitched, and with her body basking in the heat of her own nervousness, she pushed Johnny through the doorway before Helena could say anything else.

          Johnny protested, claiming something about being in pain due to her hands pressing against his ribs, but Kayla barely heard him as she hustled him out of the house, stopping only when they were outside.

          Kayla shut the door.

          "So eager to throw your life away," Quinn said, as he stood within the darkness that covered one corner of the back porch. Kayla's hand caught Johnny's wrist before his fingers touched his pendant, and they both watched Quinn slowly walk out of the shadows, his eyes fixed on Johnny. "Why?"

          Johnny relaxed his shoulders enough for Kayla to let go of his wrist.

          "Because no matter what, I need to save Zane," Johnny answered, looking away as he spoke.

          "A curious need, and did you not mean to say Bobby?"

          "Who?" Kayla blurted out.

          "That is what I would like to know as well," Quinn said, and Kayla looked from Quinn to Johnny. She watched him sigh heavily, his eyes still turned away from both her and Quinn.

          "Bobby is…he was my younger brother, and Zane… he…he looks exactly like him," Johnny explained.

          "And you think Zane is the Bobby of this world?" Kayla asked.

          "He may be, or he may not," Quinn added.

          "It doesn't matter whether he is or isn't Bobby. He looks enough like my brother for me to risk everything to save him."

          "So that is what drives you beyond reason," Quinn replied. "That kind of power is dangerous."

          "Yeah, to my enemies," Johnny said, as a weak smile formed on his face.

          "And to yourself," Quinn said grimly, before walking off of the porch.

          Kayla watched Johnny's smile fade. She followed Quinn, and she heard Johnny follow close behind her.

          "Quinn, if me and Kayla would have stayed behind, would you have been able to get Zane by yourself?" Johnny asked, keeping his voice down as they walked through the dark garden.

          "No battle is ever easy, and a war is not won by will alone. Yes, breaking someone out of prison would be challenging for any warrior, and yes there would be many obstacles I would have to overcome, as well as many Supers I would have to defeat, but sometimes, when a man has desire, and a sword..." 

          "The short answer is no," Kayla whispered to Johnny, as she turned her head to one side, cupping her hand around the side of her mouth. She saw a smile grow once again on Johnny's face, which forced her to smile too.

          When Kayla looked forward again, Quinn had turned his head, and he now stared at her through the corner of his eyes. She looked away, and Quinn looked forward again as the trio continued to walk through the garden, until they reached the hidden sewer entrance. Kayla knew Johnny was hurt. She knew he might not be able to do much to help them save Zane. She knew he should be in bed recuperating, but each time she looked over her shoulder at him, her smile grew, as she realized she was glad he had come.  

 

 

SCENE 16

 

          Out! Out! Rabid's thoughts screamed, as he looked behind him at the large doors that seemed like they belonged in a prison. I need to get out of here! The words thundered in his mind, as his head turned and he looked at the many pillars that seemed like the bars of a cell. Before he kills us all! The voice in his mind howled, as his head turned once more, and he stared at a man who sat atop a throne, and whose glowing red eye made him seem more dangerous than any prison warden he had ever known.

          Rabid felt out of breath. In his mind he had tried to escape this prison, but each time he was stopped by that unblinking red eye. Can that eye read my mind? he thought.

          He attempted to shield himself from his fear by trying to take hold of the madness within him, but it now cowered in a recess of his mind that he was unable to reach.

          Nightfire's throne room was the last place Rabid ever wanted to be, but Iceage had been insistent. He wanted to report the events at the hideout to Nightfire in person. Most bounty hunters avoided speaking to Nightfire directly, instead choosing to report to Hidden, Nightfire's assistant. Hidden always informed Nightfire without fail, never once altering any report given to her and paying out any bounties that were earned. She was both honest and loyal, but what she was known for most was the way she tried to eliminate anyone who posed a threat to Nightfire, no matter what side they fought on. Her way of always handling his dirty work from the shadows had gained her the title of Nightfire's Left Hand, but only in whispers, and only where she would never hear.

          Rabid sighed, but when he breathed in, the scent of acid wandered into his nose. His eyes widened and they shifted toward the pillars.

          He knew the scent came from Hidden's soldiers. Those brainwashed zombies that The Alchemist created for Hidden would follow her into hell if she so ordered. Rabid's nose tasted the air once more, and the heavy scent of acid told him that there were at least five soldiers, but his eyes only saw pillars on each side of him. Pillars and shadow.

          The Alchemist had somehow given Hidden's soldiers the same abilities as Hidden herself. The ability to not only hide within the shadow, but to absorb it, and become the shadow itself. Rabid knew he would not see them unless they stepped out of the dark, which would most likely be to drown him in acid.

          Rabid looked to his comrades. Unseen visibly trembled, his eyes darting to every corner of the room as if he thought an attack would come from anywhere, but it was not Unseen's shaking that made Rabid forget how to breathe. It was Iceage's eyes. The way he stared at Nightfire, not regarding the half-man, half-machine as the ruler of Crysis City, but simply one more person Iceage would crush on his way to becoming King. Iceage never addressed Nightfire as "Lord" when speaking to him, which always put Hidden on her toes.

          Rabid felt his fur becoming damp, and he realized he was sweating.

          "One boy…" Nightfire began. He did not yell, but Rabid's head jerked upward as though the voice had seized him by his hair, forcing his eyes to look at Nightfire. "You allowed one boy to destroy an entire unit of Mechs. And then you let him escape!" Nightfire yelled, as he leaned forward, and Rabid began wondering how quickly he could cover the distance between himself and the doors. "You disappoint me, Iceage."

          Turn and run. The thought whispered to Rabid, as Nightfire sat back in his throne.

          "But you did bring back a harmless child. So I guess you'll be wanting your bounty." There was no more anger in Nightfire's voice, which made Rabid even more uneasy. "But first let me ask you, did you really fear him so much?"

          Rabid's arm began growing numb. He thought fear was paralyzing him until he turned his head, his eyes widening when he noticed ice collecting on his fur, or rather what was causing it. Frost bellowed from Iceage's hands, as his cold eyes looked at Nightfire with nothing but contempt.

          Rabid looked at Hidden. He saw her fingers moving. No. Not just moving. She was giving orders. Rabid's eyes searched the shadows behind the pillars. And he saw movement! 

          Iceage what are you doing? Rabid thought, as Iceage began extending his arm toward Nightfire.

          You'll get us all killed! Rabid's mind screamed, when he saw that frost no longer simply bellowed out of his fist. It began to swirl. Rabid knew Iceage was almost ready to fire, but Rabid himself was nowhere near ready to die.

          "I fear no one, not even you." Iceage's tone began with the chill of fall, but ended as cold as winter.

          Rabid saw the shadows of the pillars come to life. He knew he needed to make a decision. Choosing a side now meant the difference between life and death. So he made his choice as his claws peeked out from below his fur.

          I want to live! Rabid's mind cried out, and he moved against Iceage.

          Ice painted the ceiling, a literal patch of frozen water that clung to the tiles directly above Iceage. Rabid breathed out slowly as he continued to hold Iceage's arm upward. He had diverted Iceage's blast upward, angling it away from Nightfire. Rabid knew this action was the only reason he was still alive, but things changed, especially when you were surrounded.  

          To Rabid's surprise Unseen positioned himself in front of Iceage. The lizard had both arms extended, his palms facing forward as he made a silent plea for Hidden's soldiers not to shoot. Rabid's head whipped from side to side, but all that stared back at him was death as Hidden's soldiers had positioned themselves in a ring around the trio.

          A low growl began emanating from Rabid's throat, a warning that the first to fire on them would be the first to die, even though he knew most likely that he would be the second. Rabid glanced at Iceage, but the man simply continued glaring at Nightfire, a glare that promised a frozen death, but Rabid knew it was a promise that Iceage would never be able to keep. 

          "At least you have some courage left," Nightfire said, and with the slightest wave of his fingers, Hidden's soldiers withdrew, each one slowly melting into the shadow of a different pillar. "Go back to the prison, and bring the child to me," Nightfire commanded.

          "Yes Nightfire. I--I mean Lord Nightfire. We will do as you command," Unseen replied meekly, as he bowed deeply. Rabid saw him turn around and nod his head toward the door. Rabid almost let go of Iceage's right arm, but Iceage had not let go of the deadly stare he focused on Nightfire. Rabid had already skirted death once today. So he placed his other hand on Iceage's left shoulder as he began dragging Iceage toward the doors, and then beyond them.         

          Outside Nightfire's throne room, large windows allowed the sun to look into the hallway. There were shadows here as well, but as soon as Unseen closed the door leading to Nightfire's throne room, Rabid could no longer smell the scent of acid.

          No guards out here at least, Rabid sighed, feeling the relief of having avoided almost certain death. He let go of Iceage, and then took hold of his anger as well as his madness.

          "Iceage are you crazy? He would have killed us!" Rabid yelled, but just like in the junkyard he received no answer from Iceage. The man simply stared at the large doors that led back to Nightfire.

          "You did not see what was in his eyes?" Iceage asked, while continuing to stare at the doors. For a brief moment Rabid's and Unseen's eyes met, confusion marking both of their faces.

          "What're you talking about?" Rabid asked.

          "It was fear," Iceage answered.

          "You think he fears us?" Unseen asked almost in a whisper, looking around as if he thought ears were everywhere.  

          "No. Not us." Iceage turned as he spoke, walking away from the large doors. 

                                       

              _______________

 

 

          Kayla's eyes narrowed, as she stared at the wall of rubble in front of her. A rebel had met a bounty hunter here, and their battle had caused the ceiling to cave in, blocking the path to the prison where Zane was being held. Kayla placed her hand on a stone within the rubble and pulled hard, falling back a few steps when the stone finally came free. She coughed lightly, waving her hand at the cloud of dust that had engulfed her face after she freed the stone.

          She walked under the metal grating that sat at street level. Looking upward, she felt the warmth of the sun as it rained down on her face. Sunlight naturally had always seemed safe, but going topside was almost always a bad idea for a rebel. However, trying to find a route around this cave in would take at least a day, and Zane had already been at Stonegate far longer than Kayla liked. She wanted to free Zane as soon as possible before he was sent to the mines or anywhere else that might put him out of her reach.

          Kayla looked to Quinn, and he nodded. Then she looked up again through the grating, wondering what their fate would be under the sun.

          Kayla lifted the manhole cover slightly, as she peeked through the small slit that allowed her to view the street. Nothing in the alley was hidden, regardless of the fact that very little sun touched the four-foot-wide strip of concrete that ran between two tall buildings.

          The alley was empty. So Kayla slid the manhole cover away from the opening and quickly exited the sewers, followed by Quinn and Johnny.

          "Stay here until we come back," Kayla whispered to Johnny. "Your face shouldn't be in the system yet, and curfew isn't for another six--"

          She heard a soldier's radio. She saw the growing shadows of what was most likely two guards about to walk past the alley. Kayla and Johnny could pass for pedestrians, but one look at Quinn, or better yet one look at his sword and the soldiers would know he was a rebel.  

          She looked downward, but Quinn had already placed the manhole back in position.

          No! her mind screamed. A fight here would alert more guards, and they would have to go back into the sewers, retreating until they were sure they had lost their pursuers, forcing Zane to spend another night in that prison.

          Kayla looked at Quinn. The man already had a throwing knife in each hand.

          Kayla realized she should have been more careful. She should have used the infrared vision goggles in her backpack to check the street for soldiers, but she was in too much of a rush.

          Already she had failed Zane. 

          Kayla felt Johnny's arm press against her stomach, pushing both her and Quinn until she felt the cold brick wall of the building against her back. She felt Johnny's hand on her shoulder, pulling her downward, her knees bending until she realized she was squatting.

          What is he doing? she thought, as she looked to Johnny. She then quickly turned her gaze to the approaching soldiers. She saw their shadows continuing to grow. She felt her hand searching her teddy bear backpack for her blaster, her fingers trying to discern one gadget from another, until she heard a snap, and darkness appeared all around her. The blackness was all consuming. The street, the sky, the sun, were gone.

          Startled, Kayla slowly extended her arm forward until her fingers pressed against what she was sure was sheet metal.

          This had to be Johnny, she thought, hoping she was right.

          Moments passed, and Kayla felt Johnny's hand leave her shoulder, the sunlight shooting down on Johnny as he lifted the lid of what she now realized was…a dumpster!

          "It's clear," Johnny whispered, as he carefully stretched one leg and then another out of the dumpster. He extended his arm toward Kayla, and she quickly took his hand as she also stepped out of the dumpster.

          The warmth of his hand made her feel as if she were standing on the sun. Kayla held onto the feeling even after she had stepped out of the dumpster, pulling her hand away only when she noticed Quinn's questionable look and a small smirk growing on his face.

          "Stay here. It should take us only a few hours to find another way into the sewers," Kayla said, as she tossed one of the two grappling guns she had pulled out of her teddy bear backpack to Quinn.

          Johnny nodded, quietly slipping back into the dumpster, while Kayla aimed and fired her grappling gun at the roof of the building.

          In seconds she reeled herself onto the roof, where Quinn was already waiting. Everything was a race to him, Kayla thought, as Quinn began running off without a word, expecting her to catch up. She shook her head, and then she smiled as she sprinted after the old man. He would not win this race. Not this time. 

 

 

SCENE 17

 

          Vanessa's finger traced the circular rim of the can of baked beans. She looked up, and the lights that hung from the ceiling of the supermarket stared brightly back at her.

          "Four cans of beans is…" Vanessa began whispering to herself, as she began calculating the price in her head. The beans were on sale, but they were also less than a week away from their expiration date. She shrugged her shoulders as she dropped the fourth can into her basket.

          No choice. It's all I can afford, she thought, and while she walked toward the electronic cashier, she began wondering how she was going to convince her three children that they had to eat beans four days in a row.

          "Three children." Those words always weighed heavily on Vanessa's mind. As a third level citizen, she was only allowed two children. Any additional child would be taken away by Nightfire's soldiers to either be trained as a soldier in Nightfire's ever-growing army, or handed over to The Alchemist, as a lab rat for his horrible experiments, but only if the citizen's bureau found out that she had three children. She had hid her third son, Camerin, from the bureau for two years now. Every day, however, she dreaded the thought of the bureau taking him away.

          Like all level three citizens, Vanessa had dreamed of moving upward. She knew level one citizenship was never going to be achievable. Not for her at least. Only Supers were given level one status. Nightfire had made sure that only superhumans would stand at the top of society. Even rebels that fought against Nightfire would instantly be granted level one status, as long as they pledged their loyalty to him.  

          If I were level two, Camerin would be safe, Vanessa thought, and even though level two citizens were nothing more than maids or servants for Nightfire's bounty hunters and other Supers, they had more perks than level threes. They were allowed four children, decent schooling, and access to better food, but there were only two ways to move up. One way was to know someone who was level two, and have them sponsor you. The other was to give information on the rebels.

          Vanessa knew no level two citizens, and she had made sure to cut all ties with the underground when her husband died, which meant that for the rest of her life she and her children would linger at the bottom of society.

          She stood in line as she watched the woman ahead of her scan her groceries. The girl was no more than twenty, with blonde hair whose ends only brushed her shoulders, just as Vanessa's did. Vanessa could still remember being that young. At that time Nightfire had not taken over, and life was light, just like when her husband was alive.

          Tears threatened to flow from her eyes as the image of her husband began drawing itself in her mind, but she held back the tide, scanning her groceries quickly and leaving the supermarket in a hurry. She tried to replace sadness with anger, asking herself why her husband had died, and what was it that was so important to the rebels that it required Jamie's life.

          She still remembered watching the news of the disaster.

          Jamie had been one of the security guards at the Mech facility on Colston Street. He had told her that all he was supposed to do was leave the robotics lab door open, and the rebels would do the rest. Vanessa figured that the rebels were probably after the blueprints for some new technology. It should have been a simple grab and ghost, but the rebels were discovered, and they had no intention of being captured. She had heard that people as far as Sebastian street had felt the ground shake, when the hydrogen turbines within the Mech facility exploded.

          Vanessa had always blamed the rebels as much as Nightfire for her husband's death. She understood the need to overthrow Nightfire, but she could never forgive the rebels for putting Jamie in danger, and as the weeks went by her anger only grew. Because her husband had died. Because she had to take care of three children on her own. Because she was not even allowed to have three children. Because she was the lowest level a citizen could be.

          Vanessa felt herself grinding her teeth. If Jamie had never gotten mixed up with the underground, he would still be--

          Her thought was cut off as she stumbled backwards. She thought she had bumped into a wall, but when she looked up, she realized that her anger had blinded her to the two soldiers walking down the street.

          "Hey! Can't you watch where you're going!" She heard the large man's voice, but her heart jumped when she saw what had splashed at her feet, her eyes widening as a paper cup lay on the concrete floor, its clear liquid spilling out, creating a small puddle. 

          "S-s-sorry. Sorry," Vanessa replied quickly, continuing to keep her gaze on the floor, as she tried to walk around the two soldiers. 

          But she was startled by the large hand that encircled her wrist, and her scream was punctuated by the sound of glass shattering against the concrete sidewalk.  

          "Where do you think you're going? I think you owe me the price of a cup of coffee," the large man said. She could smell liquor on the soldier's breath, which was not surprising, since most soldiers were known to drink on duty and off.

          Why is this happening to me? Vanessa thought, her eyes locked on a shopping bag that could not hide the sight of pasta sauce spilling from broken glass jars. A fire began burning within her, growing hotter the more she stared at her bag of groceries that would no longer feed any of her children.

          "That wasn't coffee." The words escaped Vanessa's mouth before she could stop them. 

          "Oooh. Looky here. This one's got a mouth on her." A different voice told her that this was the other smaller soldier speaking. Vanessa felt the large soldier pull her closer, the scent of liquor assaulting her nose as he began to speak. 

          "Lady you want me to arrest you for disturbing the peace?"

          "You're too drunk and lazy to do that," Vanessa replied, her anger again speaking up before she had a chance to consider her words.

          The large man tightened his grip, and pain shot through Vanessa's arm. It was a warning, but the fire within her was out of her control, growing hotter, spreading to every part of her body as it threatened to consume her, unless… she let it out.

          "You soldiers are useless! All you ever do is drink and take advantage of us third levels!"

          Vanessa looked up, her eyes meeting the large soldier's angry gaze for only a moment, before she once again began studying the floor in front of her. She knew what would come next.

          Vanessa saw the large soldier's hand move toward his handcuffs, but the other soldier stopped him, grabbing his arm as he leaned close. 

          "Just take her credits and let's go. We can still catch two-for-one drinks at Jack's Bar," the other soldier whispered, but Vanessa was close enough to hear every word. 

          No! she thought. If they took her credits, her family would starve.  

          The large soldier's hand reached for Vanessa's purse, but she turned herself sideways, keeping her handbag as far away from the large soldier as possible. 

          "No," she said, but the large soldier simply pulled her closer.

          "Lady, if you don't give me that purse…"

          "No!" she screamed, struggling in vain to hold onto her handbag as the large soldier easily separated the purse from its owner. 

          Tears began to blur the sight of the two soldiers, who began rummaging through her handbag. They blurred the sight of the people passing by, who dared not intervene for fear that they would be robbed as well. They blurred the sight of a boy, who rushed to cross the street. No. It was more like the boy was running. And in her direction! Behind him, the lid of a dumpster swung shut.  

          Wait… A thought wandered into Vanessa's mind. There aren't any dumpsters on this side of town. 

          The boy began running faster. Vanessa, her eyes soaked with tears only saw a blur, but when she wiped her eyes, the large soldier lay sprawled on the floor, brought down by the weight of the boy who was now standing on the large soldier's back.

          The boy held his fist out toward the smaller soldier. He snapped the fingers on his other hand, and Vanessa yelped in surprise as a long metal rod appeared in the boy's hand, extending to the neck of the smaller soldier.

          "Leave." Vanessa heard the boy speak. The temperature of his tone sent a chill through her body. The threat was clear, and she felt the boy would make good on that promise, if the soldier did not comply with his demand.

          Run, Vanessa thought, hoping that the smaller soldier would move his feet. She did not know why she felt sorry for soldier. He had just tried to rob her, but as she looked into his fearfully wide eyes, she knew he did not want to die.

          The smaller soldier took one careful step back, before he turned and ran. Vanessa took the opportunity to grab her purse. She would have ran as well, but the boy turned to face her. Vanessa expected to see a face hardened by war. She expected to see eyes that looked as though they had long since buried every emotion except anger.

          But when she looked at the boy's face, she did not see the cold warrior she anticipated. She saw a child, one who was desperately holding onto his anger in an attempt to stop the tears collecting at his eyelids from cascading down his cheeks.

          The boy ran his arm across his eyes, wiping moisture that only began to collect again.

          "Are you okay?" The boy's voice was no longer ice. It creaked like a door ready to burst open behind the force of his emotions.     

          Vanessa felt the urge to wrap her arms around the boy, and allow him to pour his tears onto her shoulder, until there was no sadness, or fear, or anger left within him. She would force it all out, leaving him as the happy teenager he owed it to himself to be. 

          Vanessa took one step forward, but she heard many steps in response, her eyes widening when she saw a large group of soldiers marching toward her.

          The soldiers alone were not what sent a chill through her body. It was the stitching on their uniforms. She found that she could not take her eyes off of the red wolf head that was sewn onto the chest of their jackets.

          The Wolf Pack! she thought. The name caused her to tremble uncontrollably. These soldiers were The Alchemist's creations. They were humans blended with wolf DNA, in order to give them the ability to change themselves into werewolves at any time. Their wolf DNA also made them more feral, making it more likely that they would kill you, rather than arrest you. 

          "Freeze rebels!" one of the soldiers called out.

          Rebels? Vanessa thought, her head whipping from one side to another, until she finally noticed the crowd that had gathered around her, their sad eyes pitying her. They knew exactly what happened to rebels caught by The Wolf Pack.   

          "Wait. I'm not a--" Vanessa's words were cut short with a snap of the boy's fingers, a cloak appearing out of thin air, falling over her shoulders as its large hood almost completely covered her face.

          The boy grabbed her wrist and ran without hesitation, forcing her to run as well. Vanessa thought about pulling away from his grip. She thought about telling the soldiers that she had nothing to do with the rebels, but when she glanced behind her, she saw the thirst for blood in their eyes, as some of the soldiers began running on all fours. The Wolf Pack loved a good hunt, and it was known throughout Crysis City that they always caught their prey.

          The boy led her into an alley, where she heard a snap of his fingers. Looking back, Vanessa saw that a tall brick wall now blocked the entrance of the alley. A moment later, however, she saw a soldier land on top of the wall, as if he had simply jumped!

          Rising up slowly, the soldier changed his form to that of a wolf. Its dog-like face set in a permanent scowl, as though anger controlled his every decision. Claws and fangs, which looked to be at least six-inches-long were unwilling to hide behind thick grey fur that covered the monster's entire body. His eyes were yellow, and they begged for blood. Vanessa saw it clearly when the monster's tongue bled wildly as it licked one of its claws. When the monster placed its tongue back in its mouth, the overflowing blood seeped out between the creature's teeth, staining its lower lip and the fur around it.

          Vanessa felt as if it were her blood spilling out of the creature's mouth, her body being crushed by its jaws, until every last ounce of her life was gone. 

          The werewolf howled, and Vanessa's legs went numb as three more werewolves passed over the wall with far too much ease. She would have fallen if not for the boy holding her hand so tightly, as he practically dragged her along at a pace that felt way too fast. She looked at the boy. He extended his arm outward, and a tall fence that split the narrow alley melted in a flash of light, the smell of burnt steel filling her nose as the boy led her through the opening.

          A second later Vanessa saw the boy's hand flash forward again, and the door ahead of them exploded. She glanced behind her only to realize that their pursuers were closing in. Vanessa dreaded the thought of what would happen when they got ahold of her.

          She felt her arm jerk to one side. When she looked forward, she saw that they were running past the remnants of the destroyed door and into a large kitchen within the building. The cooks shouted obscenities, but they made sure to step aside as Vanessa and the boy ran by. Every civilian in Crysis City knew that it was one thing to yell at a rebel, and quite another to get in their way.

          The boy led her through two tall silver doors that marked the boundary between the kitchen and the lobby, but before she had even taken two steps into the lobby, she heard glass shatter as another one of their pursuers crashed through the large glass doors leading to the street. The werewolf did not even bother to shake the shattered glass out of his fur, before turning toward her and running at full speed.

          Vanessa saw the boy's hand flash forward again, but this time she saw a small red ball fly from his fingertips. With a snap of his fingers a river of oil erupted from the red ball, covering the floor, the werewolf, and the people in the immediate area.

          The boy quickly changed direction, leading Vanessa toward the elevators. The werewolf, who was now covered in oil, simply slid, clawing at the slick marble floor in a futile attempt to change its direction.

          By the time Vanessa stepped into the elevator, the rest of the werewolves had entered the lobby. She saw their yellow eyes search the lobby for only a second before they found her, and they wasted no time charging at the elevator.

          Vanessa took one step back, and then another, and then she realized just how small the elevator was, as her back brushed against the back wall. She was going to die here. This tiny elevator would be her coffin, as soon as those beasts reached her. In here the boy's tricks would mean nothing against the sheer strength of those werewolves. Vanessa could already feel their fangs sinking into her flesh. She could feel their claws tearing her--

          Vanessa felt the boy squeeze her hand, waking her from her trance as he pulled her close.

          "I won't let them get to you," the boy said, as if he actually had a choice in the matter. She wanted to believe the boy's brown eyes, but countless stories she had heard of The Wolf Pack made it difficult. Vanessa noticed that the elevator doors began closing, but the beasts were moving too fast, and the elevator doors were closing too slowly.

          She looked up at the boy once again, but his eyes were elsewhere. He stared at the four approaching werewolves. Vanessa saw his fingertips touch a small spherical pendant that hung from a cord around his neck. The pendant resembled a gumball, and when the boy touched it, she saw an identical gumball fall into his hand. He then tossed the small gumball just beyond the elevator door. The closest of the wolves was no more than ten-feet-away now, and it leapt at them, its claws out, and its teeth eager for flesh.

          Vanessa felt herself squeeze the boy's hand, her eyes widening in fear, and then confusion, as a large concrete wall appeared from nowhere. No. It sprung from the gumball!

          She heard a loud thud as the wolf crashed into the wall. She felt some relief when the elevator door finally closed and they began moving upward, but that relief lasted only until she heard a loud crash, which she knew were the wolves destroying the wall the boy had made.

          Vanessa heard noises below them in the elevator shaft. She squeezed the boy's hand as the elevator passed each floor.

          "Those things chasing us, what are they?" the boy asked.

          Now Vanessa knew why the boy was so confident. He did not know who The Wolf Pack was, or how dangerous they were. Poor boy, she thought.

          Vanessa had to tell him what he was up against. She began opening her mouth, but stopped suddenly.

          Would he leave me behind if he really knew who was chasing him? She thought. If he abandoned her now, she would have no chance of surviving.

          She sighed. What was she thinking? Neither of them were going to make it out of this alive. No one escaped those monsters once they were on the hunt. 

          This boy could. The thought floated into Vanessa's mind, and she did not know whether she was just being hopeful. This boy could get away she realized…If he wasn't being slowed down.

          Vanessa did not like where her thoughts were taking her, but she knew it was the truth. She knew what she had to do in order to ensure that at least one of them would survive. She took a deep breath.

          "Those things chasing us call themselves The Wolf Pack. They're soldiers that have been genetically altered by The Alchemist, in order to better hunt down rebels." Vanessa looked away from the boy. "They've killed dozens of rebels, and they always catch their prey." She brought her gaze back to the boy, squeezing his hand as she said, "But I've seen what you can do. I--If you run, you might be able to escape." She slipped her hand out of the boys grasp, and she took a step back, while her eyes studied the floor of the elevator.

          "I'll only slow you down," Vanessa said. She knew he would run. She wanted him to run. The boy was probably only seventeen or eighteen years old. He was too young to die.

          Vanessa's mind turned to her own survival. Maybe, if she simply told her pursuers that she was not a rebel, and that the boy intervened on his own, and that he had abducted her…

          Vanessa sighed. The Wolf Pack killed rather than questioned their prey. She would most likely die before she could utter a word.

          Familiar fingers wrapped themselves around Vanessa's hand, and her eyes widened as she was tugged forward.

          "We're both gonna make it out of this," the boy said, as he stared at the floor count above the elevator door. "Trust me." He looked back at Vanessa. And he smiled! She only hoped somewhere behind that smile was an actual plan, and this was not just an attempt to make her feel safe.

          She heard a bell chime, and the elevator doors opened. She expected one of the wolves to be waiting on the top floor, ready to pounce as soon as the doors opened, but instead she felt relief when all she saw was an empty hallway. Vanessa took one step and almost fell, the boy pulling her along as he ran at top speed.

          He shouldered through a door that led to an empty stairwell. She sighed in relief once more, until she looked down and saw that the wolves were on the stairs only a few floors below.

          How did they climb so many flights so quickly? Vanessa thought, as she began to doubt their chances of escaping.

          The lead wolf cast his yellow eyes on her and the monster howled. Fear had no time to set in before she was off, the boy leading her up the steps and onto the roof. She once again began to wonder if the boy had a plan to escape when she saw that the roof offered no place to hide.

          The boy, however, bolted for the edge of the roof.

          Can he fly? Vanessa thought, as he made no indication that he was going to slow down. She looked back to see three wolves bursting out onto the rooftop. Weren't there five? The thought felt more like a warning as her eyes searched for the rest of the pack.

          Vanessa turned her head just in time to see the boy toss a gumball at the edge of the roof, the ball instantly transforming into a concrete bridge that led to another rooftop. He led her onto the bridge where she heard glass shatter beneath her, as the two missing wolves jumped out of the top windows of the building Vanessa and the boy were just on, and crashed through the windows of the building that Vanessa and the boy were running to.

          She saw the boy drop another gumball onto the bridge as they ran across it. The lead wolf, however, did not notice the second gumball as the creature quickly ran onto the bridge.

          The gumball exploded the instant Vanessa's foot touched the roof of the other building, destroying the concrete bridge and sending the lead wolf falling between the buildings. However, the remaining two wolves were not slowed at all, as they easily jumped the distance between the two buildings. She saw the two wolves quickly closing the gap between them, their four legs pumping hard, propelling them forward far faster than Vanessa or the boy's two legs could ever hope to.

          She knew they would not make it to the end of the rooftop before they were overtaken. That is until she saw the tiny red ball and heard a snap of the boy's fingers.

          Behind them, the roof was instantly covered in small sharp metal spikes. She heard the wolves yelp in pain as the spikes tore through their feet, causing them to stumble and fall on even more spikes, but they were up again before Vanessa even had a chance to breathe a sigh of relief.

          They growled as though the pain meant nothing. Then they charged ahead, their feet collecting more spikes with every step.

          Their stumble, however, had given Vanessa and the boy enough time to make it to the roof's edge, where he had created another bridge that led to an adjacent building.

          As he ran onto the bridge, she again heard the sound of glass shattering again beneath her, but this time she only saw one wolf jump to the building they were headed to. The wolf was ahead of them!

          They're trying to cut us off, Vanessa thought, and as if her mind had wished it, a wolf crawled onto the other end of the roof from the window below. It stood there ahead of them, staring for only a moment before charging, but the boy turned left without hesitation, and another tiny gumball added a coating of glue to one side of the roof.

          The beast first slowed and then stopped, the glue firmly holding its feet in place until the beast growled and tore its feet free, leaving fur and skin behind with each step.

          The boy continued running to the left, leading Vanessa across a bridge to another building, but again she saw it, another wolf leaping from one building to the next.

          Oh no! Vanessa's mind screamed We're--. She stopped her thoughts from going any further. She did not want her mind to bring another nightmare to life, but no matter how much she tried not to complete her thought, she saw another wolf hoist itself onto the end of the roof.

          The boy stopped, and Vanessa's head whipped around frantically.

          To her right stood the wolf that was still covered in glue, its bloody paw prints showing the path it had taken to cut off one angle of their escape. Behind and to her left stood the two wolves that now seemed more like porcupines with those sharp metal spikes protruding from their skin. Bloody footprints also marked their path as they shifted from one foot to another, the pain of their wounds showing clearly on their faces.

          "We're trapped," Vanessa breathed. She felt herself trembling, and she believed she would have passed out if she had not looked up at the boy. In his face she saw focus, determination and even anger, but when she looked closer she saw his eyes tremble. How can he be angry and scared at the same time? Vanessa thought, wondering whether it was his fear or his anger that prompted him to squeeze her hand.  

          "They won't touch you," the boy whispered. They were just words, and Vanessa knew they held no real power, but her body stopped trembling. The fear that was ready to overwhelm her felt as though it was now being contained in the tiny space between her hand and his.

          Another wolf wrapped its claws over the edge of the roof, hoisting itself onto the rooftop with one hand. Vanessa realized that this was the wolf that had been covered in oil, as well as the one that had fallen between the buildings after the boy had collapsed his own bridge. The werewolf's left arm hung limp at its side. Unbelievably, this was the only injury the monster had received from a more than twenty story fall.

          The wolf stood upright, wrapping its right hand below the elbow of its left arm.

          "An interesting power you have rebel," the lead wolf said. Vanessa found it unnerving hearing a human voice coming from a mouth filled with fangs, but what was more unnerving was when the werewolf pulled his left arm outward, Vanessa hearing the sound of joints cracking as the monster popped his left shoulder back into place, without showing the slightest sign of pain. "Usually we'd take someone like you to The Alchemist, but as you can see my pack has worked up an appetite, and we prefer our meat to be… fresh." The wolf's tongue slipped between its fangs as it licked the side of its mouth. The monster spread its arms wide, looking from one wolf to another.

          "So whaddaya say boys, is it time to feast!" the lead wolf yelled, and the other wolves howled in response.

          Vanessa tried to hide behind the boy as the pack leader turned his yellow-eyed-gaze back in their direction.

          "Then dinner is served," the lead wolf said with a smile.

          The wolves charged, while the pack leader simply laughed, the boy letting go of Vanessa's hand as he ran directly toward the pack leader.

          "No!" she called after the boy, pleading for him to come back, but he continued running. He knew she had no way of protecting herself.

          He had abandoned her.

          Vanessa knew that she was only extra weight that lowered the boy's chances of escape. Tears began collecting at the bottom of her eyelids, as she hoped for a quick death.

          She looked downward, taking a deep breath as she began readying herself to be torn apart, until she saw a tiny red gumball inches away from her foot. She thought she saw a spark, and a moment later the rooftop was swept away from her, her eyes widening as she was driven higher and higher into the air. Vanessa found that she was able to breathe once she stopped moving upward. Her eyes finally took in her surroundings, and she realized that she was now standing atop a steel pillar more than twenty feet in the air.

          Vanessa looked down, and she saw two wolves clawing at the pillar, but unable to climb it. They stayed for only a few seconds before going after the boy instead. He, however, was at the other end of the roof, leading the other three wolves in a dance where he allowed their fangs and claws to come inches away from his skin, before creating a thin metal wall that stopped them from separating flesh from bone. Of course the wolves would rip down the walls a moment later, but by then the boy had always retreated out of range.

          As he continued his dance, he glanced at the other two wolves coming his way, and he dropped another gumball onto the ground, creating a large cloud of black smoke that engulfed himself and the three wolves just as they attacked.

          Vanessa lost sight of the boy for a moment, the dark fog acting like a curtain, denying her eyes any view beyond the smoke, but the boy emerged from the cloud a moment later, sprinting toward the edge of the roof without any of the three wolves in pursuit.

          The other two wolves changed direction, their path headed toward him at the edge of the roof. The boy waited near the edge of the building, and when the wolves closed in, the boy created a sheet of ice that covered the floor around him, causing both of the wolves to lose their footing. One wolf slid off the roof, yelping as it went over the side. The other, however, dug its claws deep into the ice, ending its uncontrolled slide and allowing it to lunge at the boy.

          But the boy's fingers produced yet another gumball.

          In mid-air the wolf slowed, stopped, and in less than a second the wolf was flying in the opposite direction, Vanessa's eye's narrowing as she tried to see what the boy had done. Once the wolf flew by her, she felt it, the powerful gale of wind that sent the wolf off the opposite end of the roof and into the alley below.

          The wind also blew away the cloud of smoke that concealed the first three wolves. Vanessa's eyes widened, and she let out a short laugh when she saw each of the three wolves ripping apart a manikin that resembled the boy. A red liquid that looked like blood painted the fur beyond their fangs, as each wolf gnawed on a separate manikin, but with the smoke gone, the wolves saw the lifeless copies for what they were. The three wolves quickly opened their jaws, allowing the mangled manikins to lie on the rooftop. Vanessa could hear their growling even from atop the pillar. She could see the anger burning behind their yellow eyes as they turned toward the boy. 

          Vanessa wanted to call out to the boy. He had made a fool of the three wolves, and from the looks on their faces she was sure that they were not used to that ever happening.

          Vanessa saw the boy stagger, leaning dangerously to one side, before catching himself and standing straight again. He took one long slow breath, exhaling through his mouth as he turned his gaze to the wolves and smiled.

          They roared before rushing at him, Vanessa wondering why the boy would deliberately try to anger them. Was life and death just a game to him, or was he trying to prove something? Vanessa could not tell where the boy's thoughts were. She only wanted him to stay alive.

          The boy shuffled his feet, slipping slightly with each step as he moved himself off the ice patch he had made. As soon as he cleared the ice, the wolves were on him, and again he danced with them, erecting walls of steel, concrete and stone seconds before fangs and claws could tear into him, and end their waltz.

          The wolves that the boy had sent off the roof had already returned, joining the dance but with no more luck than the other three.

          As they continued, she finally realized what kind of dance this was. It was the dance of someone who knew freedom and understood that he deserved it. The boy wore his freedom like armor, flaunting it in the faces of those who would dare to try and dictate his actions.

          Maybe this is what the people of Crysis City lost, Vanessa thought, but she quickly shook her head. No! It was Nightfire, and his god-like power that took it from us. Anger welled up inside her. Vanessa wanted to resist as well. She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply in an attempt to cover herself with the same armor the boy wore. Vanessa knew freedom was not taken. It was given away by those too fearful to fight for it.

          However, when Vanessa opened her eyes she felt no more courageous than she did before. She felt the same numbing fear when she looked at the wolves. Vanessa realized that the boy's courage was for him alone. He's different, she thought, as she watched him. He doesn't care about rules. He doesn't even care about Nightfire.  

          The five wolves suddenly stopped, and instead of attacking, they slowly began surrounding the boy. They seemed poised to strike until he held up another red gumball. Vanessa saw the panic in their eyes as all five wolves hopped back, readying themselves for whatever the boy was going to create next, but the boy only laughed.

          The lead wolf roared, and as if it were a signal, the five wolves leapt in unison, but that was all Vanessa saw before the boy closed his eyes, and a blinding light began emanating from the gumball he held in his hand.

          The burst of light lasted only a few seconds. However, Vanessa found herself shielding her eyes, even as she turned away from the blinding light.

          She heard the wolves roar in anger while spots danced in front of her eyes. When Vanessa's sight began returning, she saw the five wolves blindly groping around the rooftop as if they thought their claws would find the boy by luck alone. He, however, stood more than twenty feet away from the blind wolves, his arms crossed under his chest and a smirk on his face. Vanessa finally realized that the wolves never had a chance of touching the boy.

          The army's elite hunters, made to look like fools, by a teenager. The thought brought a smile to her face as the wolves continued to claw at the air around them.

          One by one the wolves stopped clawing at nothing, each one's eyes searching out and finding the boy, but none of them attacked. They watched him, his chest heaving as he gulped down large breaths of air through his mouth.

          The lead wolf growled, and then his yellow eyes turned toward Vanessa.

          "Forget him! Grab the woman! We'll hold her hostage!" the lead wolf yelled, before howling. Vanessa looked from the charging wolves to the boy. His smile had vanished, and a red ball hung in the air above him.

          In an instant snow burst from the ball, blanketing the wolves, and the rooftop under more than a foot of snow. The wolves stopped only to shake the snow off their fur, before once again charging toward Vanessa. In the snow they were only half as fast, but they would still reach her before the boy could. 

          The boy was on one knee, breathing even more heavily. Snow sat on his back, shoulders and head, falling off when he quickly stood up. Vanessa saw him drop another ball at his feet. It sunk into the snow, and a moment later a pillar raised the boy more than twenty feet into the air. Vanessa saw him use another ball to create a ramp that started at the top of the pillar and sloped downward onto the snow covered rooftop. She wondered what he was doing, until he transformed another ball into a snowboard.

          After seeing the boy's powers, Vanessa thought he was a magician, but as he jumped and spun, holding the front end of the snowboard, she began to question if he was instead a daredevil. He slid down the ramp, and then rode quickly through the snow, outpacing the wolves as he came her way. Vanessa saw him pull another gumball from the pendant, tossing it ahead of him and snapping his fingers as his board slid over it.

          A ramp began forming under the boy, lifting him higher as he continued moving forward. The ramp began to outpace him as it rose in a gentle slope, until it came to the same height as the pillar Vanessa stood on. The ramp continued past her, but instead of another gentle slope, the ramp shot downward at an angle Vanessa knew she did not want to experience. The ramp was only a foot away and she jumped as he came close.

          The boy hurled another gumball toward an adjacent building before catching her. 

          For a moment she was impressed by how easily he caught her, but then she wished he had not, as the ramp dipped downward. Vanessa screamed with all her might, feeling that he deserved it for making the slope so steep. However, once the boy was on the snow again, maintaining a pace that kept them ahead of the wolves, she understood why the ramp plummeted downward the way it did.

          What she did not understand was why he chose to spin after they ramped off the roof's edge.

          Does he want me to throw up on him? she thought, as she held back the urge to vomit.

          Vanessa heard the boy snap his fingers as the world spun around her, and when they landed on the adjacent roof, she realized that the gumball he had thrown had lined the roof with a fresh layer of snow as well.

          For a moment she felt his hold on her weaken, before he pulled her close again.

          The boy skied across the rooftop, increasing the distance between themselves and the wolves, but he then angled himself toward a taller adjacent building. He sailed off of the roof, and a few moments later they crashed through one of the windows of the taller building.  

          Vanessa opened her eyes only to find herself sprawled on the floor a few feet from the boy, who was already attempting to get on his feet. He leaned heavily against the wall for support, breathing deeply as if his lungs desperately needed air.

          A howl emanated from the rooftop of the other building.

          They've already caught up! Vanessa thought, before she felt the boy's hand lifting her to her feet.

          He led her out of the apartment, and then into another apartment, and then finally into a small bedroom whose windows looked out onto the Camden river.

          She heard the wolves crashing into the building, most likely through the same window that she and the boy had come through. 

          The boy blew out the window as one of his gumballs exploded. Then he combined three gumballs together, and he hurled them out of the window, snapping his fingers as he grabbed Vanessa's hand.

          She caught a glimpse of what he had created. A lifelike copy of herself and the boy sailing toward the river on a hand glider, but she only saw it for a moment, before he yanked her into the corner and her world went dark.

          Vanessa felt a wall appear behind her, as it pressed against her back. Her fingers searched, and too quickly found the other three walls that surrounded herself and the boy. They were in a box of some sort. A wardrobe most likely, she thought.

          Her fingers continued searching for a hinge that would mark where the doors were, but she failed to find any exit. Instead her fingers ran across the boy's shoulders, and then to his chest, where she felt it expanding and contracting quickly as if he had run a marathon.

          The boy seemed exhausted, but she could tell he was trying to control his breathing as his loud labored breaths began to slow, until he began breathing silently through his nose.

          "Listen…" the boy whispered, "After they leave, wait ten minutes. Then wake me up." 

          The boy's forehead came to rest on her shoulder, and when it remained there, she realized he had fallen asleep, at a time like this! Vanessa pushed the thought away as she tried her best to hold the boy up.

          All I have to do is not make a sound, she thought, but when she pictured the wolves bursting into the room, with their yellow eyes, with their fangs and their claws, her fear seized her and she felt as if she was going to scream. But instead she held the boy tighter, placing one hand on the back of his head.

          "We're both gonna make it out of this," Vanessa whispered into his ear, his words making her stronger. 

          She smiled at him like he had smiled at her, kissing the side of his head in a silent show of gratitude for helping her find her strength, but she quickly regretted it when she realized he was covered in sweat. The taste of salt lingered on her tongue as she pulled her lips away, choosing instead to slowly stroke his damp hair in an attempt to further calm her own nerves.   

          Vanessa held onto the boy even as she heard the door to the room collapse inward. She heard the wolves panting when they scrambled into the room, quickly moving to the windowsill and growling loudly. They must have seen the glider, she thought. 

          "There's a hover craft by the bay. We'll catch them before they land." Vanessa heard the rough voice, and she knew it was the lead wolf.

          The wolves scrambled out of the room just as quickly as they had entered, Vanessa's ability to breathe returning only after she thought they had left the entire floor.

          She remained in the dark space with the boy, breathing heavily as she counted her way to ten minutes, the longest ten minutes of her life.

 

          Johnny was the boy's name. They had exchanged introductions after leaving the building by way of the fire escape. Vanessa had taken off the hooded cloak, and Johnny had added a hat and leather jacket to his clothes. He had created twice the amount of groceries she had lost, carrying them as they walked casually. She believed that together they looked like a mother walking with her son.

          They walked along the back streets until they thought it was safe enough to use the main roads, and even though The Wolf Pack was nowhere in sight, Vanessa still eyed every shadowed alleyway, fearing that a set of fangs and claws might jump out at them.

          Vanessa feared for Johnny. Not because he spoke of rescuing a comrade from Stonegate prison. Everyone knew that facility was a revolving door for any rebel with powerful enough friends. The reason she feared for him was because he seemed convinced that he was going to fight and defeat Nightfire, saving the city from the tyrant that had ruled uncontested for the past six years.

          Vanessa's fear soon turned to pity. Johnny had barely managed escaping The Wolf Pack. He had no chance against Nightfire's god-like power.

          When they had come within a block of Vanessa's building, she had him turn back, and after telling him the quickest way to the street where she had met him, Johnny was off.

          "Too young," she whispered, as she watched the boy move quickly along the sidewalk. She knew if he ever fought Nightfire, he would certainly die, having seen far too few summers. She shook her head while she turned and began walking toward her building.

          At the other end of the block Vanessa saw a soldier. Recognizing the red bars sewn in at his shoulder, she knew that he was a lieutenant. She would have understood if she felt fear, but as the lieutenant came closer, she began to wonder how much the information on a prison raid was worth.

          Maybe it could raise my level, she thought. If she were a second level citizen, she would not have to hide Camerin. Her kids could have a good life. Go to good schools. Eat good food.

          Johnny did manage to lose The Wolf Pack, which means his power has to be 'A' class. Vanessa knew that information on 'A' class rebels was always well rewarded. And, even if they caught him, he could just escape whatever prison they put him in anyway. No harm done. Her thoughts only fueled her desire to be raised to a higher citizenship.

          She began raising her hand in order to hail the lieutenant, but she stopped. Vanessa realized that she was only lying to herself. She did not care if Johnny was caught. She did not care if he managed to escape. She had always partly blamed the rebels for her husband's death, deciding then that she would never involve herself with the rebels, and that her family's safety came first.

          With her truth wrapped around her, she waved down the lieutenant, hoping that the information would gain a new life for her family, and that her betrayal of the boy was the last betrayal she would ever have to commit.

 

 

SCENE 18

 

          The moon had cast its eye over the city long before Johnny saw the dumpster he had created. He had found his way back to where Kayla and Quinn had left him. The dumpster was only two blocks away. Johnny quickened his pace, as a smile began painting itself on his face. He kept his eyes forward, focusing on the dumpster until his gaze was forcibly pushed upward, and he was pulled into the alley next to him.

          His hand touched his gumball pendant, and he would have snapped his fingers, if he did not recognize the grey beard worn by the dark figure.

          Narrow eyes opened as Johnny realized that it was Quinn that had pulled him into the alley. The man held a finger to his own lips, a silent order to not make a sound.

          Johnny saw Kayla swing down into the alley, discarding her grappling gun as soon as she landed, appearing frantic as she ran directly to him.

          "Johnny, where were you?" Kayla asked.

          "Kayla, we do not wish to attract attention," Quinn interjected, and Johnny watched Kayla take a breath before speaking again in a low whisper,

          "We looked everywhere."

          "There…was a woman …she was in trouble," Johnny said. He wondered why he felt guilty. He had saved a woman's life. He should be proud, but when he looked into Kayla's eyes, he saw traces of pain. Pain that maybe he had caused.

          "Always the hero," Quinn commented, as his eyes scanned the street. 

          "Don't just go running off on your own. We were worried that you got caught," Kayla said. Then she looked downward, and Johnny felt his guilt even more. "I don't want to lose y--I mean I wouldn't want to lose another comrade." Kayla looked at Johnny once more. "Ok?" she asked, her eyes seeming on the verge of breaking.

          Johnny wondered whether it was really a question, but when she continued staring at him with her eyes trembling, he realized that he had to give her the answer she wanted. 

          "Ok," he replied, and he saw Kayla's eyes relax.

          "We have kept Zane waiting long enough," Quinn said, already turning his back to them and walking deeper into the alley, Johnny and Kayla wasting no time falling in behind Quinn as they disappeared into the night.

 

          Johnny took the binoculars that Kayla handed to him. With his chest sliding along the floor, he dragged his body to the small hill that hid them from detection. He lifted his head just enough for his eyes to peek over the hilltop, and he looked down onto Stonegate prison. The building alone placed five stories of weight on nearly half-an-acre of land, but as impressive as the building was in size, it was as equally unimpressive in color. No sunny yellows, leafy greens, or skyward blues touched any part of the facility. The structure seemed to be coated completely in an uninspiring grey, making certain that no prisoner there would remember the color of life, only the shade of their own captivity.

          Johnny then looked toward the large wall that formed a star around the entire facility. At each point sat a large Gatling gun, their long barrels pointed inward, further reminding the prisoners to disregard any thought of life outside those walls.

          The thought of his brother spending even one night here made it difficult for Johnny to hold the binoculars without fear that he might break them in two.

          He lowered them, and slowly crawled back to Quinn and Kayla. When Johnny came up on the pair, he saw a small three-dimensional projection of the prison emanating from the watch wrapped around Kayla's wrist. More than that he saw a dotted line leading through the western corner where a number of trucks were parked. Quinn's head turned toward Johnny.

          "We have found a way in," Quinn said, only glancing at Johnny for a moment, before turning his attention back to the projection.

          "Alright. Let's go," Kayla added, as she switched off the projection and began walking. Johnny fell in behind Quinn, trying to walk as cautiously and quietly as he could manage, which was still much louder than Quinn or Kayla. 

          "Now she's gonna know I was telling the truth when I said I was gonna rescue Zane--" Johnny barely finished speaking before he felt Quinn's arm against his chest, barring him from taking another step.

          Kayla turned. 

          "Wait…you told someone we were rescuing Zane?" Kayla asked.

          "Yeah the woman I saved," Johnny replied, and he saw Kayla and Quinn exchange worried looks, before they once again looked toward him. Kayla opened her mouth, but she quickly closed it, instead choosing to point her worried look toward the prison.

 

          Johnny tried to remember the search pattern of the automated spotlights that lined the top of the wall, and the path Kayla had set for him in order to avoid them, but he found himself retreating as much as advancing until he finally reached the wall. 

          Johnny saw himself being carried upward over the wall, and in seconds he was on the other side.

          His eyes searched for soldiers, but as Kayla expected, there was no sign of anyone near the supply trucks. A lump began growing in Johnny's throat, and he swallowed hard in his attempt to push his anxiety away. Dashing to the supply trucks, he chose to hide behind one of the large wheels, crouching as he tried to look in every direction at once. With no one still in sight, he began walking, his eyes watching every shadow cast by each truck.

          "Walking in all by yourself then? I'm impressed…" Johnny's head spun from side to side, searching for where the voice was coming from. To his left, a woman's face parted the veil of shadow cast by one of the trucks, as a figure began crossing the border between darkness and light.

          Johnny saw her full lips, thin nose and pale skin move into the light. He saw her eyes rest on him as she stopped just beyond the shadow. Her red hair was tied in a neat bun, while two thin braids ran down both sides of her face, stretching past her hips and stopping at the middle of her thighs. She wore one color. Red. A short jacket stretching to the middle of her stomach was the only piece of clothing that could be considered loose. The rest of her outfit was skin tight, and Johnny saw how well leather hugged every curve of her body.

          Her knee-high boots had no trace of a raised heel, but even without the enhancement to her height, Johnny could tell she was only a few inches shorter than him.

          "You're either the stupidest man alive, or your powers really are that strong," she said, gesturing with her hands, but never moving them off the handles of either of the two katanas that sat at her hips. 

          Johnny knew that there was only a tiny chance that she was there to help him free Zane, but he clung to that small shred of hope, trying to build on it by telling himself that Vanessa might have convinced this woman to help him because he had helped her.

          "Who cares? Either way he's gonna die," a second woman said, as she walked into the light, also stopping inches away from the edge of the shadow. Her shoulder-length hair was pulled into a ponytail, and Johnny could only see half her face, given that a black cloth covered her mouth, chin and neck. Her clothes resembled that of a ninja. Her sleeveless, baggy, black shirt was tied tightly at her waist with a black sash, while black trousers were tied neatly with strings at her ankles. The thin soles of her black sandals separated her feet from the floor, while black nail polish kept her toes from looking plain. Johnny's eyes followed a dragon tattoo from its head on the back of the woman's hand, to its spade-shaped tail at her shoulder. In her hand the woman held a tall spear which she pointed at Johnny, destroying the last of his hopes. 

          They were here to kill him, even after he had saved her.

          "With his bounty, I can get those new boots…" another voice said, as two more women walked into the light, and Johnny realized he was surrounded. "I look so good in suede." The woman who spoke wore black heeled suede boots that rose a few inches past her ankle. Netted stockings covered her legs, stopping midway up her thigh. On her body she wore a kimono that was black with blue borders. Her kimono seemed too small for her, as it only stretched from her shoulders to the middle of her thighs. The neckline was low. It was so low that nearly half the woman's chest was bare. So low that it traveled downward all the way to the blue sash tied tightly around her thin waist. Johnny had trouble taking his eyes off of the woman's chest, but eventually he brought his gaze to her face, where her hair was tied in a ponytail that reached the middle of her back, while bangs ran down her cheeks, framing a face with pouty lips and a pair of sapphire-colored eyes. Her weapons were two short blades that hung horizontally at the bottom of her back. 

          Johnny looked behind him, and he saw the fourth woman, who he noticed was also the strangest.

          She had short blonde hair that reached no further than the top of her neck. She wore black heeled boots that stopped just below her knee, while black tights covered her thin legs. From there a grey sleeveless hooded sweatshirt covered her body from her thighs to her shoulders. Her hood was up, but it was pushed a few inches behind her hairline. Johnny's eyes narrowed when he saw long yellow bunny ears protruding from the hood itself. His eyes shifted to her hip, where the image of a small, yellow bunny rabbit was sewn into the grey fabric. Johnny spotted two more small silver bunnies, attached to two key chains that hung from the handle of a samurai sword that sat at her hip.

          She seemed playful, her lips set in a permanent smile as if she was always happy, or simply wanted to fool people into believing she was. Johnny wondered which was the truth, and he got his answer when he stared into her eyes. He had seen those eyes so many times before, whenever he looked in the mirror.

          What kind of pain was she hiding? Johnny wondered.   

          "Why do you keep wasting your credits on clothes?" the woman holding the spear said to the woman wearing the kimono.

          "So my victims know they were killed by someone with style. Not like you."

          "I have style!" the woman holding the spear said, as she slammed one end into the ground.

          "Yeah, as much as a nun."

          "I just like to cover up. I'm not just gonna let everything hang out like you do--"

          "What're you trying to say?" the woman in the kimono said, placing her hands on her hips.

          "Do we have to kill him?" Johnny heard the playful voice of the woman in the sleeveless hoodie. 

          "Yes!" the woman with spear and the woman in the kimono shouted in unison. 

          "I want those boots!" the woman in the kimono added.

          "But he's so cute. Can't we just capture him and hold him hostage?"

          "Your interpretation of a hostage is seriously flawed," the woman holding the spear answered.

          "Seriously," the woman in the kimono added.

          "Sometimes I wonder why, Jenna, even let you--" their spear sister began.

          "Enough!" the woman in red yelled. "We're gonna kill him, just as we were told to do, and then we'll collect our credits from Nightfire."

          "But--"

          "No buts!" the woman in red cut in again.

          Five swords and one spear were pointed in Johnny's direction. He began to reach for his gumball pendant, but instead he let his hand fall to his side knowing that it was pointless to try and fight back. His eyes studied the floor, searching for an answer for why Vanessa had betrayed him. 

          "Jeez kid. Don't take it personal. It's just business," the woman in red said, before all four women attacked. Johnny did not even look up, but he saw the blades swipe at him, passing through the projection of his image that was being created by Kayla's holographic emitter. One of the women's blades grazed the emitter itself, and Johnny saw the camera's picture waver.

          "A hologram!" the woman with the spear exclaimed.  

          "Awww. I really wanted those boots," the woman in the kimono said sadly.

          The woman in red sheathed her swords. "You're an interesting one," she said with a smile, before bringing her lips close to the projection of Johnny's face. "What you said to the woman you helped. I hope you're a man of your word," she whispered, before turning and walking away with the other three women.

         

          Johnny felt the holographic headset being lifted, but the hands were not Quinn's. They were smaller and more delicate.

          Kayla was still standing exactly where she was when Johnny had first slipped the holographic headset over his eyes. He stood unmoving, his shoulders slumped and his eyes cast downward.

          With confusion in his eyes, Johnny looked to Kayla.

          "But I saved her."

          "It's not that simple," Kayla replied. "Nightfire created a class system, and for some stuck at the bottom the only way to move up is to give information on us rebels." She placed her headset in her teddy bear backpack. "C'mon. We'll have to find another way in." She turned her back to the prison, and she began to walk away.

          "You should feel honored." Johnny felt a hand slap his back, and he turned to Quinn who had been watching from the hill. "Very few rebels gain the attention of Jenkai."

          At the sound of the name "Jenkai." Kayla looked back at Johnny, concern painted clearly on her face as she stared at him and then their surroundings, before turning around and speeding up her pace, checking behind them every few feet as they made their way back to the sewers.

 

 

              _______________

 

 

          Waiting was the worst. Kayla had watched Johnny sink as he leaned against the sewer wall, his back sliding downward until he sat on the floor, disappointment dripping from his face. She was unsure whether he was disappointed in the woman he had saved or himself, but the look of sadness on his face set her mind in motion. She told him that he could not have known the woman would betray him, that it was her own fault for not telling him the situation above ground, and that Zane could still be saved. 

          But none of it moved him. Not even when Ghost wired her with a rendezvous point and a new way into Stonegate prison.

          Johnny barely looked at Kayla, even as she kneeled beside him, smiling while she told him the good news.

          She knew they needed to be on their way in order to meet Ghost at the agreed time. So she grabbed Johnny's hand, and she pulled him to his feet. Kayla decided to continue holding onto him as she led him through the sewers, convincing herself that it was for his own good, even though her smile grew wider with every second that past.

 

          Quinn had scouted ahead, and Kayla knew he would be waiting at the rendezvous point even before she turned the corner with Johnny. She avoided looking at Quinn though. She did not want to see the smirk or the sly glance she knew he would shoot her way upon seeing her still holding Johnny's hand.

          Instead Kayla studied the floor and the shadow Quinn cast against it. There she saw the silhouette of his cheeks widening into a grin. Embarrassment gave way to anger, and she wanted to shout. At Quinn for grinning. At Johnny for always crowding her mind. At herself for not wanting to let go. But instead of screaming she remained silent, staring at the floor and enjoying the warmth she felt from Johnny's hand, until she saw Quinn's shadowed arm reach for his sword.

          Kayla saw the direction Quinn was facing, and she also watched the wall ahead of him, one hand already reaching into her backpack. She saw a woman pass through the wall, and her arm relaxed when she realized who it was.

          Kayla would never forget the sight of hair that flowed downward in waves like a black sea, framing a pale face that desperately needed color. Her hair splashed against her shoulders, running down her back and ending at her waist. A sweater covered her thin frame, stretching from her shoulders to her thighs. Tight blue jeans covered her legs, until they were tucked into knee-high boots that had a strap buckled over the front of each ankle.

          Ghost held out her index and middle finger in her usual peace sign as she looked at both Quinn and Kayla in turn.

          Her eyes then fell on the hand that held Johnny's. Kayla had forgotten that she still held on to him. She quickly pulled her hand away, using it instead to wave at Ghost.

          She continued to look at Kayla, a smirk beginning to build at the corner of her mouth. Kayla felt as though she had shrunk under the woman's gaze, until Quinn chose to save her.

          "You're late," Quinn stated.

          "Sorry," Ghost replied, finally pulling her gaze away from Kayla and looking at Quinn. "Bounty hunters are flooding the streets. Looking for him," she said, eyeing Johnny as she nodded in his direction. "It seems your friend has a one million credit bounty on his head, and the contract wants him brought in dead, not alive."

          “One million?” Kayla blurted out, looking toward Johnny. Why?

          Ever since Nightfire had taken control of Crysis City no one had ever gained a one million credit bounty. Not even One Shot. What Johnny did at the hideout was impressive, but there were a few 'A' class rebels that could have also managed to survive that ambush, and none of them had a bounty anywhere near one million.

          Johnny's hand began shaking. The surprised look on his face told Kayla that he was not doing it voluntarily.

          "It's an honor to meet you. No one has ever had a bounty as high as yours." The words sounded as though they came from thin air, and Johnny's confused look turned to Kayla, but she could offer no answer. Ghost sighed loudly as she began rubbing her forehead with her thumb and index finger.

          "Richard, you're still invisible," Ghost said, as she sighed again.

          "Oh sorry." The voice again came from thin air, but then a man began to materialize in front of Johnny. Ghost extended her arm toward the man.

          "Everyone. My husband, C-thru," she said, and the man smiled, bowing his head slightly.

          Kayla had seen the man before, but this time he looked transformed. He was still shorter than her by a few inches, and by the look of his physique he was probably still twice her weight. However, now a Kangol hat had replaced his usual blue baseball cap, and a buttoned shirt had substituted his usual stained sweatshirt. He had also swapped loose jeans for pants, their ends brushing against brown shoes instead of sneakers.

          Not only were his clothes different, but they also looked expensive. Kayla could not deny that the change was an improvement. However… had he done this himself, or-- her gaze moved to Ghost, and she found her answer.

          Ghost had always had a taste for expensive things, and given her ability to walk through walls, it had always been a simple matter for her to stroll into any store and take whatever she wanted.

          "I believe we have kept Zane waiting long enough," Quinn stated.

          "Always so direct aren't you, Kunai." Ghost replied with a smile. She moved across the walkway and then passed through another wall.

          A moment later Kayla saw a portion of the wall slide across, revealing Ghost, again holding her trademark peace sign. However, behind her was a staircase leading upward into darkness. "I found this staircase a month ago. I believe the warden wanted to use it as an escape route," Ghost said, as she turned and began walking up the stairs.

          Kayla knew they were being told to follow, and she hastily moved toward the opening, but she found that she was outpaced by Johnny who fell in behind Ghost.

          They walked silently, Kayla holding a glow stick that allowed her to see Ghost and even a few steps beyond her, but she kept her eyes on Johnny, and the odd way he planted each foot. At the top of the staircase was a door, and she watched as Ghost simply passed through it. Kayla had counted more than sixty seconds, but the door still had not opened.

          She saw Johnny begin taking a step forward.

          "Wait," Kayla whispered, as she grabbed his arm. His wrist trembled, but when he turned and she looked into his eyes, she did not know whether he shook from anticipation or anger. She held onto his arm and his eyes, until she saw the door open in front of him.

          Beyond the door was an office that she suspected belonged to the warden. Johnny climbed the last few steps in seconds, Kayla making sure she was only a few feet behind.

          When she entered the small office, she saw Ghost sitting in a chair, a frustrated look on her face as she poked at the keys on the holoboard in front of her.

          "Locked," Ghost said. She stood up, offering her seat to Kayla. "Gadget, I believe this requires your expertise."

          Kayla took the chair, keeping one eye on Johnny who seemed unable to stand still. She easily broke through the prison's security and found the cell that Zane was placed in.

          "Got it. Cell 6375," Kayla blurted out, and Johnny took off. "Wait there might be--" An alarm blared as Johnny swung the door open and ran into the prison. She sighed. "The door might have an alarm," she whispered, as she shook her head, realizing that she should have said it before blurting out Zane's cell number.

          "Hurry, Kayla!" Quinn called out, as he ran after Johnny, his sword already in his hand. 

          Even from the warden's office, Kayla heard the song that Johnny played within the prison. Explosions of every type echoed across the walls, creating a symphony of destruction that left her wide-eyed after she walked through the door. She saw no functioning Mech Guards, only severed steel and wires. Kayla counted twenty Mech Guards, give or take a few extra robotic limbs from other Mechs, which were most likely destroyed beyond recognition. Surprisingly, however, there was no harm done to any of the cell doors or the inmates within. 

          "Kunai and your friend are quite thorough," Ghost commented.

          "This isn't Quinn," Kayla stated, her eyes still marveling at the scene of utter destruction in front of her. "It's Johnny."

          "All of it! Then what is Kunai, doing?"

          "Probably trying to catch up?"

          Johnny painted the same portrait of destruction at every prison block leading to Zane's cell.

          Kayla expected to finally see a smile break through the frown she thought had lingered too long on Johnny's face. She expected to see Zane acting as though his rescue was part of Big Z's plan.

          But, when she turned the corner onto the prison block, she saw Johnny kneeling in front of a cell, droplets of what she hoped was sweat dripping from his chin to the floor below.

          Tears would mean Zane was not in his cell. Tears meant he had been taken to the mines, or even further away.

          Quinn looked at her, slowly shaking his head as she approached.

          Maybe they were at the wrong cell. Kayla's mind wanted there to be a chance, but when she looked above the bars, the numbers 6375 stared back at her, robbing her of the hope of finding Zane.

          "Even with this much power,…" Johnny looked up at Kayla. "I still can't even save my own brother," he whispered through what she now knew were tears.

          "The warden will know where they moved him," Kayla said, looking to the stairs at the end of the hall. "He's probably in the command center on the next floor. We should--"

          She saw Johnny bolt for the stairs before she finished speaking, his arms and legs pumping quickly as if he were running for his life.

          When Kayla reached the command center, she saw two Mechs standing motionless, each one impaled by a large metal rod.

          Johnny held the warden by his collar, pressing him against a computer console.

          "Where is he?" Kayla heard Johnny growl.

          "W-Who?" the warden asked nervously.

          "Zane. He was transferred here two days ago," Kayla said, walking forward and standing next to Johnny.

          "The child?" The warden's gaze shifted from Kayla to Johnny. "I-Iceage took him--"

          "Where?" Kayla could not hold back her frustration.

          “T-To Nightfire,” the warden answered fearfully.

          "To Nightfire?" Kayla could not comprehend what Nightfire himself would want with Zane, or even how they would rescue him. No one ever took back anything from Nightfire. That monster's grip was absolute. "W-Why…Why'd they take him to Nightfire?" she managed to blurt out, her voice on the verge of cracking. The warden's arm shook as he raised it and pointed at Johnny.

          "Because of him."

          She saw Johnny's eyes widen as his look of anger turned to guilt. He stepped back, distancing himself from the warden as well as Kayla.

          "It's not your fault," she said for the second time today, but again her words could not reach him. He only looked at the marble floor, searching for something within the cloudy grey design beneath his feet. Anger found its way back onto his face, but it failed to push away his guilt as he looked at Kayla with his teeth clenched, eyes narrow and tears ready to cascade down his cheeks at any moment.

          "When do we leave for Nightfire's tower?" Johnny demanded.

          Kayla looked to the others. Ghost and C-thru exchanged worried looks, and even Quinn, who normally smiled at the smell of danger raised an eyebrow.

          They all knew storming Nightfire's tower was suicide, but she did not have the heart to tell him. Not when he was on the verge of breaking.  

          "Let me…make a few calls, and then we'll go," Kayla said, before sharing cautious looks with Ghost, C-thru and Quinn.

          She looked again at Johnny, but now he stared downward once more. She was thankful, however, when she saw that not a single tear touched the marble floor.

          He stood, and when he started walking, Kayla began reaching for him, but stopped. Instead, she watched him distance himself from everyone else. Her eyes followed him as he moved to lean against the wall next to the door, his angry eyes searching the floor for answers.

          What answers was he looking for? Kayla wondered, hoping that if she could understand Johnny, then she might be able to bridge the space he kept between himself and everyone else.

          "So he's the one, huh?" Ghost said, leaning against the computer console as she took a place next to Kayla. "He'll be a difficult one to rope into marriage. The pretty ones normally are," she whispered.

          Marriage! Kayla thought, and a wave of heat rushed through her body as she quickly turned to Ghost. "Uh-y-y-you've got it w-wrong. W-we're just friends," she explained, nervously waving her hands in front of her. Ghost replied with only a horrified stare, her mouth open and her eyes wide.

          "This is her first voyage. She does not understand how to sail these waters," Quinn said, having silently moved next to Kayla.

          Ghost looked from Kayla to Quinn.

          "And the boy?" Ghost asked.

          "I believe he knows even less about the sea and its waves."

          Ghost looked once again at Kayla, and she smiled. Kayla returned her smile, thankful that Quinn had changed the subject to sailing.

          "I'll be rooting for you, Gadget," Ghost whispered into her ear, while patting her thigh.

          "I think the alarm has attracted some unwanted attention," C-thru said, pointing at the window he stood in front of and garnering everyone's attention. "Escaping may be a problem."

          Kayla moved to the window, where she saw bounty hunters streaming through the prison gates.

          "There's an army out there," she breathed.

          "There's an army in here," Ghost replied, as her fingers danced on the holoboard at the main console. Kayla heard gates unlocking, and then bars moving. "Let's see them deal with a few thousand disgruntled rebels." Ghost said, turning around to face the group, her peace sign held out in front of her. "Now…" She said, and began walking quickly toward the door. "We'd best be on our way."

          She was the first through the door, but everyone followed right behind her, following her through halls swelling with newly freed rebels, through the warden's secret passage, and finally back into the sewers, where they all disappeared into the day.

 

 

SCENE 19

 

          Kayla slammed her fist against the sewer wall. "What do you mean you won't help?" she demanded.

          Johnny saw the agitation in Kayla's eyes as she spoke to Blastwave, or more precisely his holographic projection emanating from her watch, a projection that only gave them a view of his face and shoulders.

          Blastwave had a chin that looked like it had been chiseled from granite, a wide nose that seemed unbreakable, and eyes that felt as if they looked through you rather than at you. The man exuded strength, but Johnny saw what lay beneath. He saw the real reason Blastwave had become the unofficial leader of the rebellion. Deep creases ran across his forehead, and sadness marked his eyes. Beneath that mountain of strength Johnny realized was a world of compassion. The man worried about others, and one look made it clear that he would never take anyone's life for granted. 

          "Gadget, all the other rebel groups are in agreement. Storming Nightfire's tower is suicide," Blastwave replied.

          "Well I can't just leave Zane with Nightfire and The Alchemist," Kayla responded, her gaze already falling to the cobblestones beneath her. "I can't. Zane already lost his real family. Me and Quinn. Well... Zane's all we have."

          "We can't just storm Nightfire's tower without a plan. It would take weeks to gain the necessary intel to mount an effective rescue mission."

          "Zane doesn't have weeks."

          Johnny saw the weakness in Kayla's eyes as she looked up at the holographic projection again. They seemed on the verge of breaking, and for some reason it bothered Johnny to think of tears running down her cheeks.

          He used his anger to push away the tears collecting at his own eyelids as he moved next to Kayla.

          "I have a plan," Johnny said, crossing his arms under his chest. "Show me where Nightfire is, and then get outta my way." He saw Blastwave's eyes fix on him for a moment.

          "Ahh, so you're him. The one-man army. The hero. The boy. We all heard about what you did at Stonegate. It was... impressive, but you're no match for Nightfire." Blastwave's eyes moved back to Kayla. "I'm sorry, Gadget, but at the moment Zane is out of anyone's reach."

          "But we're willing to--" Kayla began.

          "Blastwave out."

          The projection of Blastwave winked out of existence, leaving them with only the sewer walls to stare at. Silence conquered the trio, until Kayla looked toward Quinn.

          "Maybe we could call…" Kayla's words trailed off as Quinn slowly shook his head.

          "That line has been dead for years. He has abandoned it, just as he abandoned the rebellion," Quinn stated, and Johnny saw Kayla look away.

          "We could call--" Quinn began.

          "No," Kayla interrupted, quickly turning to stare at Quinn. Johnny could hear that her voice held an edge, as if warning Quinn not to go any further. 

          "They are the only ones who would be willing to--"

          "I said no!"

          "There is no one else."

          Kayla only answered by rolling her eyes as she looked away from Quinn.

          "I will make the call," Quinn said, turning to the watch on his wrist.

          "Call who?" Johnny whispered to Kayla.

          "Berserkers," she replied irritably, still looking down and slowly shaking her head.

          "I will leave it on radio only," Quinn said, tapping his finger on the screen of his watch. Kayla looked at him for only a moment before sighing and looking away once more, as a voice emanated from his watch.

          "Kunai, you old dog. It is good to hear from you. Where is Ms. Gadget?"

          Johnny saw Quinn's eyes shift toward Kayla. She looked at him as she shook her head.

          "I'm not here," Kayla whispered, before she turned her gaze downward again.

          "She… has stepped out for the moment. We are in need of your help to rescue Zane," Quinn replied, his eyes still focused on Kayla.

          Quinn continued his private conversation, while Johnny's gaze kept moving between Kayla and Quinn.

          Berserkers? Why doesn't she want their help? Johnny thought, and Kayla looked at him.

          "They're a rebel group…" she began, and Johnny was surprised when he realized she was talking to him, until he remembered how his mother would do the same thing, always saying he was easy to read. "They're incredibly strong, but completely uncontrollable. It's more likely they'll try and bring down the entire tower rather than rescue Zane," Kayla finished.

          Johnny looked to Quinn, wondering if they should simply try to save Zane on their own.

          "We'd never make it to Zane on our own," Kayla said, apparently reading his face again. She sighed. "They really are our only hope," Kayla finished, as she sighed again, rubbing the sides of her forehead with her thumb and middle finger.

          "They said they will help us. It seems they know of a secret way into Nightfire's tower," Quinn said, half-smiling as he looked at Johnny and Kayla in turn. Johnny returned Quinn's smile with one of his own, but Kayla, still rubbing her forehead with her fingers, only shifted her eyes toward Quinn for a moment before waving at him to lead the way. Johnny saw the irritation written on her face.

          Berserkers? he thought, as he followed Quinn. If they're willing to help, then they can't be that bad. However, when he looked back at Kayla, he wondered if they would have been better off attempting this rescue on their own.

 

 

              _______________

 

 

          In a large room, where computers lined the walls and each screen showed a different part of Crysis City, Tessa smiled.

          Tessa was proud of her work. She and her network of spies had successfully planted viewing devices in Mech factories, army barracks, even the lobby of Nightfire's tower, which she was especially proud of. Altogether, Tessa had overseen the placement of over three hundred hidden cameras throughout the city.

          The cameras provided enough information to keep the rebels one step ahead of Nightfire's army. Most of the time anyway, Tessa thought, her smile fading as she remembered that her network of cameras had not helped to warn Gadget of Iceage's arrival.

          Tessa looked to her left, and she saw Daulton leaning against a desk set in the middle of the room. On the top of the table was a map of Crysis City. Its surface was littered with tiny replicas of Nightfire's troops, and in the middle stood a tiny replica of Nightfire's black tower.

          Tessa used her heightened hearing to listen to Daulton's heartbeat. Still faster than normal, Tessa thought, as she shook her head.

          It had been more than five hours since Daulton denied Kayla's request to help save Zane, and she could still see that he was wracked with grief. He would always be haunted by his grief. Daulton cared too much for others to be an effective leader, yet, when One Shot had vanished and the rebellion had to choose a new leader, every rebel in Crysis City cast their vote for the same person.

          Blastwave.  

          Tessa felt her watch buzzing. Looking down at her wrist, she saw that she had received a message from one of her spies. Her eyes widened, as she looked at a picture of the boy who had gained a one million credit bounty in only a few days. It was impressive by any standard. No rebel had ever gained that high a bounty.

          Tessa recognized the page. The number '1' followed by six zeros was written in black, above a picture of a boy sleeping on what appeared to be the ugliest couch she had ever seen. The boy was no older than nineteen, if that, but she had to admit that the boy was cute, even with tears streaming from his eyes, and what was most likely drool marching out of the corner of his mouth.

          Even though she had seen the boy's bounty information before, her eyes now bulged as she stared at the posting.

          The reason her eyes bulged, the reason she quickly rose from her seat and practically ran to Daulton, shoving her communicator in his face, was because the boy's bounty…had doubled.

          Daulton's face retreated from the screen of Tessa's communicator.

          "Look," Tessa said quickly, bringing her wrist close to his face once more. She saw his eyes narrow.

          "Is this real?" He asked, his astonished eyes looking at her. "Two million for the boy?"

          "Nightfire just posted it."

          Daulton turned to the twins, Kelys and Karin, sitting only a foot apart, both in front of their own communication consoles.

          "Get me a line to Gadget."

          The twins quickly went to work, their fingers tapping away at their virtual keyboards. Kelys turned to Daulton first.

          "We can't get a secure line," Kelys said.

          "She may be too close to Nightfire's tower," Karin added. 

          "Then get me a line to the rebels."

          "Which ones?" Kelys asked.

          "All of them," Daulton responded.  

 

 

              _______________

 

 

          Three mountains of muscle stood in the sewer passage. Johnny saw their eyes pass quickly over Kayla and Quinn, settling on him and succeeded in making him misstep. Johnny caught himself before he fell, continuing forward as he reminded himself that they were allies.

          Two of the Berserkers stood side by side, while the third Berserker stood behind.

          One wore silver armor over his chest, Johnny noticing the large imprint of the head of a bull etched into it. The front of the man's short hair was gelled upward, while the rest of his hair lay flat on his head. A thin braid ran from the back of his head, and it lazily leaned over his shoulder, stretching downward, its frayed ends reaching the bottom of his chest. The man held a thick steel pole that stretched upward six feet from the floor. Atop the pole was a large rectangular block of steel. Johnny wondered if he could even lift the war hammer that the man held, doubting that he would ever be able to swing a weapon that weighed more than he did. The man, however, held it with ease, his huge biceps convincing Johnny that he would have no trouble wielding such a heavy weapon.   

          Johnny's eyes shifted to the right, and he saw that the other Berserker's muscles were just as huge, but his weapon was not a tall war hammer. Johnny saw two smaller war hammers hanging at his hip, each with handles only a foot long. A thick chain ran from the handle of one war hammer to the other, making them seem as though they were meant to be used as nunchucks. The man wore a tight black tank top, and Johnny could see the same bull's head design on his chest and sewn into matching fingerless gloves. The sides of the man's head was shaved low, while the hair in the middle of the man's head formed a row of peaks that spiked upward more than four inches, his mohawk running all the way to the back of his head.

          The largest Berserker was almost six inches taller than the other two, and even though he stood behind them, Johnny could still clearly see his shaved head, along with shoulders that seemed impossibly huge. Armor covered one of those shoulders as a steel sleeve stretched downward around the man's arm. Again he saw the design of a bull's head as the third Berserker had it etched onto the shoulder. 

          They all wore black jeans and boots, and they all shared the same look in their eyes. A look that was far less feral than that of the werewolves, but just as dangerous. Johnny almost turned his gaze away from the trio, but instead he forced himself to continue staring into eyes that yearned for war, even though he could feel his fear growing with every passing second.

          "So this is him," the Berserker with the single braid said.

          "Kind of small isn't he?" the Berserker with the mohawk questioned, and the one with the single braid tapped the other on the elbow.

          "Brother please. He has gained the highest bounty ever. We must give him his proper respect."

          The Berserkers raised their arms high into the air. 

          "Oh geez," Kayla sighed, and when he looked he saw her hand cupping her face.

          The three large men bowed, leaving their arms extended.

          "All hail…umm," the three Berserkers began in unison, before ending with puzzled looks they aimed at each other. They stood up once more, confusion painted on their faces until the one with the single braid spoke.

          "Forgive us…umm, High Bounty One, but what is your battle name?" The man's voice tiptoed unsurely through his words as if he thought Johnny would be offended.

          Johnny new this was his chance to create a label for himself. One that struck fear in his enemies. One that matched his abilities.

          "His name is--" He heard Kayla begin, but he was not going to allow himself to remain as just Johnny. Not with the power he had now.

          "Gumball," he interrupted, and the name hung in the air as Quinn and Kayla stared at him, their eyes wide in disbelief. He shrugged his shoulders. "What? You guys have nicknames. So I thought I'd make one for myself." 

          "You cannot simply create your battle name. It must be given to you by someone you respect," the one with the single braid stated, before he held his war hammer in the air, looking upward and saying, "I am known as Disaster."

          "Call me Fiasco," the one with the Mohawk said, while he flexed his muscles.

          "Destruction. Destruction," the largest one said gleefully, while pumping his arm in the air. 

          Johnny's fear of the trio vanished, and he wondered if they had ever heard of a dictionary. He saw Disaster look downward at him, smiling as he continued to hold his war hammer high in the air.

          "We were given our names by Blastwave himself. After our glorious mission into Nightfire's largest Mech facility," Fiasco said proudly.

          "The mission was a failure, but we destroyed over fifty Mechs," Disaster added.

          "You were just supposed to create a small distraction so I could sneak in and upload a virus into the main computer," Kayla declared, and Johnny could hear a hint of anger in her voice.

          "As I said, Ms. Gadget, the mission failed," Disaster replied, causing Kayla to roll her eyes at him. Disaster looked back at Johnny. "Since you do not have a battle name, for now we will call you, The High Bounty--"

          "You'll call him Johnny!" Kayla interrupted.

          "Johnny?" Disaster repeated, as he smoothed the hairs on his chin.

          "Doesn't sound very menacing," Fiasco said.

          "It may not strike fear into his enemies," Disaster added.

          "But for him?" Fiasco questioned, before Johnny saw both brothers slam their fists against their chests.

          "We are proud to fight beside you, Johnny," the two said in unison.

          "Tiny Johnny. Tiny Johnny," Destruction added, clapping his hands together.

          Johnny heard Kayla sigh heavily, shaking her head as she massaged her temples. She finally looked up, staring at The Berserkers with an annoyed look in her eye.

          "Let's just get this over with. Where is this secret passage into the tower you said you found?" Kayla asked, and Disaster smiled.

          "Destruction found it," Disaster said casually, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.

          "Destruction?" Kayla repeated.

          "Yes. Destruction found it," Disaster said, extending his arm in the direction of a brick wall. "Cousin, please show Ms. Gadget our secret way in."   

          Destruction grinned widely, before charging at the brick wall.

          "Oh no. No, no, no!" Kayla called after Destruction, but the large man continued running.

          Johnny heard the explosion as Destruction hit the wall head first, crashing through and disappearing into the room within. A curtain of smoke rose up around the opening he created, denying Johnny a view of what was going on inside.

          Johnny heard the cries of "Intruder!" and "Stop him!" from the soldiers within. He heard the echo of blasters multiplying until it began to sound like one continuous blast, but most profoundly he heard the sound of destruction, and he realized how appropriately the man was named.  

          Johnny saw Disaster and Fiasco look with admiration at what their cousin had done.

          "I give the entrance an eight," Disaster said.

          "Six point five at best," Fiasco countered.

          "Seven point two?"

          "That's a deal," Fiasco agreed, before the two brothers shook hands.

          "Brother, how long has Destruction been in there?" Disaster asked, and Johnny saw a look of panic on both of their faces.

          "Almost eight seconds," Fiasco replied nervously, before the two turned and ran toward the opening.

          "Cousin! Save some for us!" Fiasco and Disaster shouted in unison.   

          Johnny found himself smiling. He looked to Quinn, who also held a smirk on his face, but it was wiped away when he saw Kayla stomping after the trio, anger building between her shoulders with each step. He could only imagine what she looked like. 

          "Hey!" Kayla yelled, pointing her finger, as she walked up to the trio. Johnny felt himself jump slightly, but oddly he thought he saw real fear on the faces of The Berserkers. She looked away, in what Johnny realized was a failed attempt to calm herself.

          He finally saw her face, her lips pressed firmly together and her eyes narrow.

          Still pretty, he thought, continuing to look at Kayla as she began to reprimand the three Berserkers who were more than a foot taller than her.

          "What part of sneaking in don't you understand?" Kayla asked, and the trio looked at each other nervously before Disaster began to answer.

          "But, Ms. Gadget, Destruction destroyed the alarm before they could pull it."

          "You don't think they heard a wall crashing in on the next floor. In a few minutes this place is gonna be flooded with solders. What do you expect us to do, fight all of them?" The Berserkers answered her question with smiles, looking at each other and nodding in agreement.

          Kayla sighed heavily, shaking her head and looking away from the Berserkers. Johnny watched her begin to use both hands to massage her temples, until an explosion rocked the tower.

          Johnny looked up at the ceiling, wondering if it were the guards on the next floor. Holding a gumball in each hand, he watched both the elevator doors and the ceiling. He expected one or both to open up, and guards or Mechs to rain bullets and blaster fire down on them.

          They waited. But nothing happened. Nothing but a ring that emanated from Kayla's watch. She waited until the fourth ring to answer, and a hologram of Blastwave's face was projected from Kayla's wrist communicator.

          "Your cavalry has arrived," Blastwave proclaimed. “Get your friend to Nightfire. We'll create a distraction."

          "We?"

          "The rebellion."

          "Everyone's here? What changed your mind?"

          "Apparently your friend has a two million credit bounty on his head."

          "What?"

          Johnny realized everyone was looking his way, and The Berserkers began bowing.

          "All hail, The High Bounty One," the trio said in unison. 

          "It was a million just yesterday," Kayla said in disbelief.

          "We know, and there's only one reason Nightfire would put a bounty that high on someone's head. I hope you're worth it hero."

          The projection of Blastwave winked out of existence.

          "I'll hack into the controls for the sky-lift," Kayla said, as she began to walk over to one of the consoles.

          "I do not think that will be necessary," Quinn said, and Johnny saw him begin drawing his sword, while looking at the elevator shaft. A steel elevator was traveling down to the basement floor, slowing before it reached the bottom.

          Holding both gumballs in one hand, Johnny tensed his fingers for what felt like an eternity before the doors opened to reveal The Death Squad. His eyes widened for only a moment when he recognized Iceage, and he would have snapped his fingers in an attempt to end the frozen monster's life, if not for the fact that Iceage held both hands high in the air.

          "Stop!" Iceage shouted. The man was clearly outnumbered, but Johnny still felt as though he was being commanded. "We did not come here to fight," He added.

          "Too bad for you," Disaster replied, as he and Fiasco grabbed their war hammers and took a step forward, causing Rabid to bare his teeth and Unseen to hide behind Iceage.

          Johnny saw Quinn extend his arm out in front of Disaster, stopping the behemoth before he could take another step.

          "Let us hear them out," Quinn said, gaining a sigh from both Disaster and Fiasco.

          "The child is on the forty-second floor. Nightfire is on the seventy-seventh," Iceage said, as the trio walked out of the elevator. "I have disabled the tracker on the sky-lift. So they won't be able to see you coming," Iceage continued, making sure to keep his hands held high while he began walking past the group. Rabid kept his hands at his side, his murderous glare bouncing from Disaster to Fiasco.

          Unseen clung to Iceage's back, avoiding everyone's glare, except when he passed Kayla. Johnny saw the lizard step back from Iceage as though unafraid, eyeing Kayla warily before nodding, but she stared back with fury in her eyes, causing Unseen to cast his gaze downward while moving closer to Iceage once again.

          "Why are you helping us?" Johnny blurted out, and Iceage stopped.

          "I am tired of watching this city bow to Nightfire," Iceage replied.

          "Would you rather they bow to you?" Quinn asked, before Iceage took another step.

          From behind, Johnny saw Iceage's cheeks bulge slightly, forming a smile, but just as quickly as his smile appeared it vanished.

          "I would hurry if I were you. The Alchemist was very happy when the child was brought to him," Iceage said, dropping his hands into his pockets and continuing to walk away, neither he nor his comrades looking back.

          It had to be a trap, Johnny thought, but Quinn had walked into the sky-lift, his sword sheathed as he casually leaned against the back wall, awaiting everyone else to join him. Johnny waited for The Death Squad to vanish beyond the hole Destruction had created, before joining the others in the sky-lift.

           Floors passed silently as the sky-lift rose through the tower, and a smile grew on Johnny's face when he looked downward, realizing that his hand was steady. He knew he was going to fight Nightfire, a half-man, half-god by some assumptions.

          And my hand is steady! his mind proudly proclaimed.

          The sky-lift reached the forty-second floor, and Quinn dashed out as soon as the doors parted. Kayla began moving, but she stopped before she exited the sky-lift, Johnny watching her stare at the floor beneath her.

          He felt her unease with every nervous breath she took. He had conquered his fear. His nerves were calm. He could help her as well.

          "Kayla,--" he began.

          "Thank you..." Kayla said quickly, and Johnny's eyes widened when he felt her arms wrapped around him. "For helping us get Zane back."

          A wave of heat washed over Johnny. He felt the beads of sweat accumulate and begin trickling down his forehead. His focus was gone. His voice was gone. All Johnny had left was the sound of his heart beating faster, as if it were trying to leap out of his chest. He felt Kayla slowly release her grip on him. She stepped back, but his heart still raced as she looked at him.

          "If you see you can't win, run. I don't want to have to come back here to rescue you too," Kayla said, and he watched her run out of the sky-lift.

          The doors closed before Johnny remembered where he was. He turned to The Berserkers who looked at him with wide smiles on their faces. They said nothing, but he knew they hid something behind those high school grins.

          As the sky-lift continued upward through the building, Johnny focused on Nightfire, once again wrapping himself in the anger he felt for the man who had taken his brother from him.

          A vacant hallway was all that greeted them when they reached the seventy-seventh floor. Johnny wasted no time stepping out of the sky-lift.

          Walking slowly, he saw sunlight splashing into the room through large windows that lined one side of the hallway, creating shadows that started at the base of each of the many pillars and stretched out along the marble floor.  

          Johnny did not see the hand that protruded only inches above the shadow of one of the pillars, until a green glow appeared around it, creating enough light to identify five slim fingers which led to a wrist that continued downward into the shadow itself. He felt the danger the green glowing light posed, as it doubled in size in an instant. Johnny's mind reached for something to protect them, and with a snap of his fingers, thick bulletproof glass began encircling Johnny as well as The Berserkers, creating a barrier between them and the strange glow. The green ball of light wasted no time propelling itself toward them in an attempt to outpace the growing barrier, but it never reached him or The Berserkers. It simply stopped with a "thud", as it hit the glass and then vanished, leaving traces of green slime that sizzled against the glass.

          Johnny continued to stare in the direction of those slender fingers. Straining his eyes, he could now make out the difference between shadowed marble and shadowed fingers. The hand grabbed the edge of the pillar's shadow, fingertips coming into the light while the rest of the gloved hand remained within darkness. A figure in black hopped out from within the shadow, as though it had pulled itself up and over a ledge.

          Johnny's eyes widened when he realized that the figure was female. She wore mostly black from head to toe. The only change was two patches of red in the shape of a flame on her chest and mask, as well as red fingerless gloves with matching red straps that wound themselves around her forearm.

          She had the body of an athlete, and Johnny was intrigued, until her gloved hands glowed a sickly green.

          He realized the danger she posed, but he soon realized she was not alone. Six other figures lifted themselves out of the shadows of the other pillars. Their outfits were the same as the woman's, except that they wore gas masks over their all black face masks. 

          "I'll take care of them," Johnny said, as he took a step forward, but a hand gripped his shoulder.

          "Do not be greedy, Johnny," Disaster said. "Your fight lies ahead. Let us take care of them."

          Johnny saw the crazed look in Disaster's eyes. The man wanted blood, and he did not want to wait for Nightfire to get it. Johnny nodded his head.

          "Good," Disaster replied, still focusing on the enemies in front of him. Johnny wondered if Nightfire would have the same eyes as these three, and if so, would he even have the courage to fight Nightfire.

          Disaster turned to Destruction.

          "Cousin," he said, while extending his arm in the direction of two large doors at the end of the hallway. "Please escort The High Bounty One to Nightfire."

          "Follow!" Is all Johnny heard from Destruction as the large man charged forward. He slammed his fist into the bulletproof glass, shattering it without ever breaking his stride. Johnny's eyes widened. The glass was at least six inches thick, and the man had turned a large portion of it into rubble with one punch.

          If The Berserkers are this strong, then how strong is Nightfire? Would he do the same to anything I create? Johnny began to wonder, until a green blast whizzed over his head. Doesn't matter. He put Zane in danger, Johnny thought, as he clamped his teeth together and followed behind the behemoth known as Destruction. He found himself dodging his fair share of green energy blasts, wondering if the woman in black knew his intent and was trying her best to make sure he did not make it to Nightfire.

          Once at the door, he saw Destruction pull it open just enough for him to slip through.

          So none of them were coming with him, he realized. He felt his fear beginning to claw its way out of the hole in his mind where he had thrown it. He pushed himself forward, attempting to leave his fear behind him. Because he would not need it where he was going. Because he could not have it. Because if he did, he knew he would fail his brother again.

          There was one part of Johnny that expected to find the entrance to a cave behind those doors. One that would lead to the largest and most hideous ogre he would ever see, but what he saw instead when he walked into the room, were rose gardens of every kind etched into pillars that stretched from the floor to the high ceiling above. He saw stained windows in so many colors that in the light it looked as if a rainbow had wrapped itself around the building. He saw the black marble floor which was infused with pebbles that glittered like stars in a midnight sky.

          There was no ogre here. There was only a man who had dipped half of his body in metal. The man stood in front of a wooden throne, staring at the ground as one glowing red eye glared at Johnny. He saw the red glow shrink and expand, and he knew the mechanical eye was focusing on him, but now he wondered if what was in front of him was actually a man, or a machine made to look like one.

          "So you made it, as I expected," Nightfire said, and when Nightfire shifted his gaze to the doors leading to the hallway Johnny was even more confused, as he now found himself staring into one glowing red eye, and one human one.      Johnny could feel his fear growing, but he ignored it. He needed to think clearly if he wanted an answer to the question that stood before him.

          "Well you were so gracious. I mean you rolled out the red carpet and everything," Johnny said, allowing sarcasm to drip from every word. He then turned his head while pointing his thumb at the door behind him. "You were even nice enough to have your assassins meet us in the hallway." For an instant Johnny saw anger conquer Nightfire's face.    

          There it is, he thought, knowing he had his answer, knowing for sure that what stood before him was a man, and not a machine. The anger, however, was gone after that instant, replaced once again by an uncaring robotic stare.       

          "The child told me all about you, Johnny. Your powers. How you got here. How you are stuck here…" Nightfire said, stopping and smiling only for a moment before continuing. "Understand I do not wish to fight you. Our powers connect us. They make us more than normal humans." Nightfire extended his hand, and Johnny's eyes narrowed as he silently prepared himself for anything the man was going to throw at him, but all Nightfire did was continue speaking. "You currently have the respect of the rebellion. Convince them to join me, and no more Supers will have to die."

          "Is that fear in your voice?" Johnny replied, attempting to sound like his favorite comic book superhero, The Black Rogue, who always noticed the fear in his enemies.

          "I am lord Nightfire! I fear no boy."

          Johnny looked downward.

          "Originally I only wanted to come here to rescue Zane,…" Johnny said, before looking at Nightfire. "but then I realized just saving him would be pointless, because as long as I allow you to rule this city he'll always be in danger."

          "Allow?" Nightfire's voice was all rage. "Crysis City is mine! And so is the child. In fact after The Alchemist is finished improving his genetic code. I think I will make him into my protege." He ended his statement with a smile, and Johnny could feel his teeth creaking as his jaw clamped down even tighter. "I will be like his big brother--"

          "You'll be dead," Johnny said. "And everything you've done to this city will just be a bad dream."

          Nightfire's human eye narrowed.

          "Do you know how many have come before you? How many Supers I have ground into dust? How will you defeat me?"

          "In an instant," Johnny replied. He smiled as he grabbed a gumball from his pendant. He smiled even more when he painted a picture in his mind of a steel pole extending from where he stood, and going through Nightfire's chest.

          Johnny tossed the gumball into the air. He snapped his fingers, and in an instant the gumball began transforming into the metal rod Johnny had pictured in his mind. It extended in a flash, but stopped when it slammed into a fiery red mist-like bubble that had formed around Nightfire.

          Johnny expected the steel rod to fall to the floor, but instead it quickly dissipated into blue smoke, as if it was nothing more than a thin sheet of paper being burned away.

          The red mist continued to swirl around Nightfire, and Johnny saw the man look down on him.

          "To think you truly believed you could touch a god," Nightfire said, before a red fist began extending from the swirling red bubble and headed straight for Johnny.

          He quickly pulled another gumball, his mind picturing a metal staff, and with a single snap steel was in his hands. He quickly brought it up to meet the red mist. Placing one foot behind him he braced himself for the impact, but when the fiery fist slammed into Johnny's staff he felt no pressure pushing against him. He, however, could feel the fiery mist begin to burn away the steel he held onto.

          Hold together, Johnny's mind pleaded, and he saw that the rate at which the steel was burning away had slowed down. He focused even harder on the weapon he held in his hands. Hold together! Johnny's mind screamed, and his eyes widened when he not only saw that the staff had stopped burning away, but the fiery fist had begun slowly evaporating. He began to realize then that this was not a battle of strength. It was a battle of will.

          Johnny focused on the space where the two weapons met. He pushed hard with his mind, and his eyes widened when he saw the fiery fist evaporate, leaving only a trail of red smoke that ran back to Nightfire, extinguishing the bubble that surrounded him as well.

          Nightfire's eyes widened, his head whipping from one side to another as he looked at himself and the area around him.

          Johnny rushed forward not wanting to waste a chance to end this fight. With each step he got closer to Nightfire, and with each second that went by without the red mist returning Johnny's confidence grew.

          When he reached the raised platform where Nightfire stood, his foot touched only the first step before he launched himself forward. Johnny swung wildly, aiming for any area that Nightfire failed to protect, until he brought one end of the steel staff forward in an attempt to crush Nightfire's throat.

          But Nightfire's hand closed on the steel staff before it could reach its goal. Johnny braced himself, pushing forward with all his strength, his anger growing as he felt himself being pushed back by Nightfire.

          Johnny abandoned the steel staff and he rushed forward, letting his anger carry his fist into Nightfire's face.

          Pain was all Johnny felt as his hand slammed into Nightfire's face, two of his knuckles hitting skin and bone and two hitting metal. His hand screamed in pain. He wondered only for a second if it was broken before balling his left hand into a fist and smashing it into Nightfire's face again. He watched Nightfire stagger backward. Johnny moved to swing again, but instead ducked under a punch Nightfire threw at him. Johnny came up fast, again smashing his fist into Nightfire's face.

          But this time Nightfire accepted the punch and he quickly struck back. Unable to dodge Johnny braced himself, but Nightfire's metal hand still pushed every ounce of air out of Johnny's lungs when it hit his stomach. Johnny fought to keep himself upright, until Nightfire slammed his other fist into Johnny's face.

          Johnny planted his foot, stopping himself from falling to the floor, glad at the fact that the fist that had hit his face was only flesh and bone. He saw the fury in Nightfire's eyes, and worse he saw red mist begin gathering around Nightfire. A short yell brought back Nightfire's shield.

          Johnny saw the red blade extending from the mist that swirled around Nightfire. He quickly created a shield, hiding behind it as the blade darted out toward him.

          Still in a daze from the punch he had taken to his face, Johnny could not focus enough to keep his shield from quickly burning away once Nightfire's mist-like blade touched it. Johnny hurled himself to one side as his shield burned apart. The blade continued extending as it destroyed the pillar behind him. Then he saw the mist bend and turn back in his direction.

          Johnny ran, creating a wall before the blade was able to impale him. It slammed into the wall, burning through in only a few seconds, but those seconds were enough for Johnny to change direction, avoiding the red mist as it darted behind him.

          It curved again, but Johnny's senses were now his own. A steel staff was all he needed to stop it, swinging downward as the red mist came close. He focused hard, seeing only the tiny space between his weapon and Nightfire's, but this time both his staff and the blade burned away simultaneously. Johnny watched Nightfire breathe deeply, exhaling quickly and reigniting his fiery shield. 

          He's learning, Johnny thought, as he looked at Nightfire who now had a self-satisfied smile painted on his face.

          His mocking grin soon faded when Johnny stared at him, confident that his own anger was so clearly written on his face that Nightfire would have no problem reading it.

          He brought his hand to the gumball pendant, tapping it twice as he palmed the first gumball and held the second between his thumb and index finger where Nightfire could clearly see it.

          Johnny sprinted forward. He could see confusion on the man's face, and then only anger. A blade once again stretched out from Nightfire's red shield, darting out at him as soon as it formed. Johnny simply dodged it, rushing in even faster. 

          He thought the red mist would bend and come at him from behind until it vanished, another mist-like blade quickly taking its place, stretching from Nightfire's shield as it darted straight for Johnny.

          Making another staff, Johnny slammed it into the oncoming mist. Focusing intently, he saw his staff and the blade burning away slowly, until in an instant both weapons were nothing but wisps of smoke.

          Johnny ran forward again, closing the distance between himself and Nightfire. The man quickly put his fists up in a defensive stance, believing Johnny was coming in for another brawl, but he stopped when he was no more than three feet away from Nightfire. He dropped the second gumball onto the floor, snapping his fingers as he thought of a large steel wall. But nothing appeared!

          Johnny quickly snapped his fingers again, focusing even harder on a large steel wall. This time the wall instantly appeared. Already leaning toward Nightfire, the wall continued falling on the half-man, half-machine until the twelve-inch-thick steel wall slammed against the floor.

          Johnny could feel his lungs begging for air each time he exhaled. He heard nothing, but he continued opening his senses to the room around him, until he heard a loud crash behind him. 

          He turned and saw that a chunk of the marble floor had collapsed. He watched as two large red mist-like hands gripped opposite sides of the hole and lifted Nightfire through it. The man was once again encased in his red mist bubble.

          Johnny's shoulders slumped. Not even in the comics is it ever that easy, he thought.

          He felt the fatigue in his legs as he continued swallowing large gulps of air. Once again though he snapped his fingers, and with another steel staff in his hand, he charged forward...

 

Read the conclusion in the ebook, Crysis City Book 1 Fear and Anger, only $2.99 at all major ebook retailers. Links to retailers are also in the Crysis City  Shop