Ssssomebody stop me!
It’s about time I take a break. The Valley Saga comes to a close. The rest of Visible can wait, dammit.
(Can’tstopwon’tstopdon’tstopthepartythatrocksthebody)
AAARGH! Damn voices in my head. I’ll just have to cut them out with this trusty rusty trowel. Hmmmm. Ooh!
“Knights of Columbus, that hurts!”
EXTRACTION
It was like a violent sea frozen in time. The Weeping was engaged in a savage, desperate battle within itself. A wave of ichorous slime loomed over a building, the Colonists inside wide-eyed with terror. But the wave did not break. The surface was absolutely still, save periodic ripples that seemed to hint at what lay below. All through the Colony, the oily monstrosity flexed with inner turmoil. The humans watched in stunned silence as the dark nemesis, coated in an iridescent sheen, began to boil and shudder. Deep within the bowels of the ancient thing, an epic struggle was underway.
The Entity swept through its dark prison like a tornado. Brilliant ribbons of light wormed their way through the flowing ooze, seeking consciousness… and intent. From all sides, writhing tentacles of the Weeping set upon the shining orb, trying to smother it and drown it under the full weight of its sickly might. But the Entity broke free time and time again, shafts of bright energy bursting through its oily bonds. The struggle seemed interminable as the bizarre foes strove after victory and survival. And for the people outside, awaiting the next move of the nightmarish morass, their lives seemed suddenly so insignificant.
In a dark hallway, Doctor Curare sat clutching his head. He had not spent this much time in shadowform for years, and his entire body burned. He just needed to hold out for a few more precious moments… then he would have his answer. The salvation of the Valley all rested on this one single gamble, and he suddenly realized how close to death he was pushing himself to set it up. He would need one hell of a vacation, and he had a vague feeling where he might spend it… and with whom.
But daydreams could wait. It was time for the final play. He rose to his feet, somewhat unsteadily, and climbed the stairs to the roof of the building. From here, he could see most of the Weeping stretching out across a portion of the Colony. He watched the frozen panorama around him and looked into the sky. The silhouette of the Laszlo was almost directly overhead, circling the area in a holding pattern. The droning Spitfires had disappeared, ordered back to the Marlborough Squadron hangars to await final orders. Other rooftops were covered with the surviving Colonists, some accompanied by hosts of mages silently rehearsing their casting strategy for a final, desperate defense. The entire population of the Colony held its breath…
With a tremendous rumbling, a single towering column of ooze burst forth from the depths of the Weeping, climbing into the sky. Screams filled the air from the Colonists as thick, terrifying tentacles emerged from the crown of the oily mast and extended over the buildings. Doctor Curare ran to the edge of the rooftop and pulled out two handfuls of glittering gems. They burned bright blue and green in his hands, and he whistled sharply to get the attention of the frightful morass. Then he spoke forcefully.
“I can still seek you out within your new fortress, demonio. And I will destroy you if I must! LEAVE!!”
The column shuddered along its entire length and the vast tentacles thrashed through the sky with great menace. Doctor Curare scowled and the glowing gems rose into the air, spinning with tremendous speed. The tentacles stopped their violent motion and withdrew into the tower of ooze. The entire structure wavered for an instant, then toppled. It did not explode to the sides as the people in the nearby buildings feared, but flowed straight ahead, down a wide, empty boulevard. All around them, the Colonists could see the rest of the Weeping following suite. The murky quagmire was suddenly flowing due south in a coordinated manner that was truly impressive. The dark violet flood swept through the Colony toward Mount Jennifer, channeling its way through the streets and alleys without causing damage. The Entity was in control.
The Colonists gave chase, hollering and cheering. Doctor Curare dropped unseen into a side alley and flowed into darkness once more, slipping through the shadowy streets to reach the Snowflake Gate. It had been left clear as per his instructions, and he watched the massive entirety of the Weeping slick into the mountain cavern. He followed, and slipped through the Projection wall. Within the fog-filled chamber, he made damn sure the oozing monstrosity funneled into the proper Pillar Gate. Doctor Curare walked out into the open air of a safe Colony with a smile on his face and a body in tremendous pain. But he could live with the pain. It was the pain of victory.
Just one last thing to do. Curare walked once more into the Grand Chamber, and the entire High Council stood at his approach. They bowed low, and he acknowledged them with a smile. He stood before the awe-stricken Cammy Devereaux and addressed her.
“Lady Devereaux, you will need to withdraw all of your forces.”
“Oh… of course. With the Weeping gone, the Colony defense…”
“No. You misunderstand. The other troops. And those of the population you can. Get them out now. Their fight is over.”
Cammy Devereaux was shocked. “You mean, you sent the Weeping to…”
“Divide and conquer, Lady Devereaux. Divide and conquer.”
Curare was walking out of the Grand Chamber, on his way to seek out Alita Muldoon, when his wristcom let out a hailing frequency. Mierda. If the team hadn’t found their way out of the Valley by now, there would be hell to pay. Bandito’s trail could cool off in a hurry. He pushed his reception key and the LCD mini-screen lit up. The message was not from Kiyagi. It was not from either of the Jaguar Assassins. The message was an emergency broadcast directly from Aztechnology Temple Prime. Communications lines were up. The Valley shield was down. Doctor Curare felt the strength flow out of him as he leaned against the building. Not now. Chac, not now. He read on. The Valley would be public knowledge in under 4 days. Bandito had been turned. The team was split apart, with Kiyagi MIA. Everything had gone to hell, and Ocelot was leading a desperate assault on an Interest stronghold in Caracas where Flamenca was being held. Curare punched in a coordinate code for an Aztechnology transport pod, acting on reflex through a fog of cold numbness. It would have to be one of his fastest pods. He glanced back once at the Grand Chamber building. There would be no time for farewells. No sleep... ‘til victory.
____________________________________________________________
3... 2... 1...
The muffled explosion went off around the corner as the gas grenade detonated. Ocelot flipped her mask on and popped two clips into the twin sleek pistols. She edged along the wall and slid around the corner. She could hear coughing but there was no movement. She sprinted forward into the dense cloud. Suddenly she could see the waving beams of laser sights. She threw herself into a full body slide, slipping between the guards and dropping them with the silenced pistols. She popped to her feet without stopping and dashed to the side into a narrow hallway. A single blank door was at the end of the hall, and overhead a large tubular conduit led from the hall through the wall with the door. Ocelot saw the door handle turn in slow motion and reacted instantly. She blasted a panel off of the conduit and leapt high, grabbing the tubes inside. She tightened her gut and swung her legs in front of her, pulling them inside the conduit and using her momentum to slide down the metal surface. She winced at the deafening sound of bullets piercing the metallic conduit around her. She pulled herself along by the pipes, gritting her teeth against their burning surfaces. When she was well inside the next room, she unclipped a grenade and rolled it behind her. It clattered along the metal surface before falling through the missing panel and exploding when it hit the floor below.
Ocelot knocked through the panel she was crouching on an instant later, shooting two guards as she dropped to the floor on top of the metal square. She picked up the thin panel and hurled it across the room, where it decapitated a suited agent. A second agent drew a long, heavy gun that sparked and activated with a loud hum. Ocelot turned and ran for the far wall as a sparking energy blast struck just behind her. A floor grid of laser tracks activated, bright vertical beams slicing in an erratic pattern. She dashed in between them, executing several cartwheels as horizontal beams swept past. Flamenca would laugh at this shit, she though irritably. And perhaps she will again soon enough. Ocelot reached the far wall, where a command console sat next to a security door. The agent behind her deactivated the laser grid and ran toward her, his weapon recharging with an evil whine. Ocelot saw the laser control button on the console and pressed it with pleasure. The beams reappeared and the agent froze for a millisecond before the beams passed through his body and his weapon. The sparking gun fell to the floor with a crash, sparks flying everywhere. With a high-pitched scream that sounded like metal scraping on metal, the body of the agent fell apart in long slabs and sparks mixed with a strange viscous fluid spilled out onto the floor. Ocelot turned back to the console and did a quick rewire on the panel. She held her breath and pushed the ENTER key. The door slid open. Flamenca was laying on a grey metal slab, pulsating energy coils holding her down.
A new alarm sounded, reverberating through the halls of the Interest stronghold. Ocelot cursed once and ran inside.
____________________________________________________________
BAMF!
Claws dug into her back as Bandito’s full weight struck Mariposa from behind like a speeding train. She opened her mouth in a silent scream as she pitched forward, catching herself from a fall with her hands and launching into a high handspring. Bandito slipped for an instant and she contorted midair to slam her elbow into his chest and slice him across the face with one of her discs. He snarled and pushed himself away.
BAMF!
Bandito was suddenly perched behind President Chavez, the claws of his right hand digging across the man’s throat. Mariposa flung the discs at him and they both hit, sending him rolling onto the carpeted floor with shrieks of pain. Mariposa vaulted over the desk with one hand, the other slipping a silver vial out of her kimono. She poured the contents across the President’s neck and ignited it with a spark from striking her discs together. The violet flame powder flashed bright and cauterized the wounds. Mariposa’s leg snapped backward with frightening speed as her lightning reflexes resulted in a kick that would have snapped a man’s neck. Her foot smashed into the angry beast’s face and he sprung backward, blue blood flowing freely from his snarling mouth. Mariposa crouched directly in front of the President, her discs spinning silently. She dared him to try again, her dark eyes fierce and unblinking. The Junglefreak’s head suddenly snapped up, as if hearing some distant call. He looked back at the petite figure in yellow with a low hiss before the scales across his body flexed upward.
BAMF!
Mariposa waited for several moments, every sense alerted for an attack. But nothing came. Bandito had left. She checked the unconscious man once more, then slipped out the door and ran swiftly for the nearest window. She knew where to find him.
____________________________________________________________
The six men in dark suits walked smoothly in sync down the hallway, reports of the battle playing in their earpieces. The inner surface of their mirror shades contained screens that scrolled incoming data from motion sensors and security cameras. Containment Unit C had been infiltrated. They watched the footage of the slender figure in black emerging from the Unit, the prone form of the female Subject draped over her shoulder. She ran along the wall, firing at incoming soldiers, before she shot out the camera. The men in black broke into a synchronized run toward the position. One of the agents suddenly noted that motion detectors had tripped in the adjacent compartment and stopped. His head swiveled to the side to peer through the glass panel that lined the hallway.
The glass exploded as a barrage of darts flew through it, striking three of the agents. They were shock darts, and the suited figures convulsed as the currents overpowered their electronic circuits. The other agents smoothly drew gleaming silver pistols as giant figures smashed bodily through the remnants of the panels. One of the Anaconda Guards smashed a pistol aside with the hilt of his Olmec blade before driving it into the agent’s throat. A mix of blood and white viscous fluid spurted forth as the Guard followed through with the stroke, finally grabbing the agent’s short hair and tearing his head clean off. He hurled it at another agent, knocking him off balance. Another Guard caught him in an armlock and twisted as he flexed. A tremendous cracking was heard as the agent yelled. The Anaconda Guard spun, kicking the man hard in the gut and forcing him to bend. Then he snapped his knee upward into the agent’s face and snapped his neck. The Guard casually stepped around the agent, crumpling to the ground with a frozen expression of shock written on his face. The remaining agent managed to squeeze a shot off in the split-second attack, hitting one of the Guards in the chest. The blast knocked the muscled figure back through the glass panel shards, sliding along the floor beyond, already dead. From behind the agent loomed a Guard who grabbed the man’s face and ripped his head around even as the Guard’s obsidian blade tore through his rib cage. The Guard released the agent with a jerk, and he spun to the ground as blood spattered the sterile hallway. The remaining Anaconda Guards grabbed the weapons and ran toward where Ocelot was desperately fighting.
____________________________________________________________
Scout Martinez worked furiously at the computer console. The satellite relay bug that Kiyagi had installed was relatively simple, and he would be able to bypass it in a few more minutes. With Ocelot and the Anaconda Guards already in the Interest complex, they would need the Fuego units as a last resort. He just needed to send the precise coordinates for the beacons they had set up. He glanced down at the list he had scribbled down and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Something...right behind him.
The clawed hand wrapped around his face as he tried to scream. He felt a searing pain in his back as he fell to his knees, hot breath on his face. He recognized the creature and wanted to call out, to scream something that would register in the beast’s memory. But he couldn’t and the last thing he felt was the flash of agony as the creature’s jaws closed around his neck.
The Junglefreak flashed outside the warehouse as a black stealth helicopter swung in low over the complex. The beast heard a subsonic homing whistle and loped toward the helicopter. Suddenly he felt three needle-sharp pains in his side and a flow of warmth passing through his body. He flexed his body before the effects of the curare could overpower him. He flashed to the helicopter and passed out as it banked away hard. A spinning disc flying through the air barely missed the rotors before it arced through the air into the waiting grasp of Mariposa. She watched the helicopter leave and then slipped into an unguarded entrance to the Interest compound. A few moments later, a gleaming metallic vessel floated over the adjacent rooftops and touched down. The dark figure slipped out like a ghost and vanished into one of warehouses.
____________________________________________________________
Ocelot pressed against the wall of the corridor as bullets whizzed past. She bent down, placing the unconscious Flamenca onto the cold floor. The firing stopped for a moment and she ran out shooting. She drove the troops back behind a partition before she ducked into a doorway, smoothly switching clips. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. She heard an electronic whining as an agent’s plasma rifle warmed up. Ocelot sprang around the corner and began firing to keep the soldiers down. She sprinted at the agent, dropping into a slide as the plasma charge flew over her head and blasted through the rear wall. She popped back to her feet and fired bullets through both of his eye sockets with her twin pistols. The agent’s head exploded in a flurry of sparks and a mist of blood. At that moment the Anaconda Guards arrived and engaged the soldiers.
One of the Anaconda Guards picked up Flamenca easily and slung her over his shoulder. There were now only three Guards left, and Ocelot ordered them to take the lead. She watched their backs, where the threat of attack was greatest. For a few minutes there was no activity. Perhaps the Interest had evacuated the complex. It was a glimmer of hope that Ocelot held until she heard the footsteps behind her. Agents coming, fast. She ushered the Guards around the next corner, ordering them to continue on. She found a good position and checked her pistols. Everything was ready. She barely registered a small light on the wall next to her change from red to green. And then a blinding flash...
Eva Vasquez lay in a pool of her own blood. A fiercely loyal member of Aztechnology to the last, the woman known to many only as Ocelot slowly leveled her guns at the turn in the hallway ahead of her, hearing the footsteps of approaching agents. She did not try to rise. Tears filled her eyes with any movement of her neck, and the vague details in her peripheral vision told her enough. She gritted her teeth against the pain and prepared for her last stand. Time slowed, and there was a moment of silence. She saw the bouncing sphere appear in the hallway from around the corner. Her vision focused in a split second and she shot the sphere out of the air. She shot it twice more, sending it ricocheting back down the hall and around the corner. Her aim was still true. The grenade exploded just out of sight and screams echoed down the hallway. She only had a few bullets left, and she wouldn’t be able to reach her reserve clips. It was now physically impossible. She could feel the numbness creeping upward as paralysis crept through her body. Soon she would lose control of her arms, and her pistols would become paperweights.
She heard more movement. They were not giving up; that much was certain. And now her sight was fading. Everything was becoming dark. NO, her mind screamed out. Her vision was still clear. The hallway itself was darkening. The sounds became louder from around the corner, and she saw an agent thrown bodily against the wall of the hallway she was slumped in, a massive knife buried to the hilt in his face. The knife pulled out on its own and spun in the air as others joined it. Doctor Curare swept around the corner as the knives spun around him in a controlled orbit. Then the knives clattered to the floor and the shadows dropped away when he saw Ocelot, his concentration broken. The doctor of shadows ran to her and gently placed his hand under her head as a trickle of blood ran from her mouth. He ran through a mental list of potions and incantations, but it was too late. Far too late.
“Era un placer, Doctor. Gracias.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but she smiled through the pain and the creeping grasp of death. Ocelot’s body shuddered once and she was silent forever after.
Doctor Curare wept. Tears streamed down his face as he brought the still body of his fallen friend close to him. He wept until the darkness within his soul enveloped his grief and drowned it. It flowed outward as rage consumed him, as the hallway around him grew dark. The rage pushed past the grief and the fatigue and everything else until he leapt to his feet with a roar. The obsidian knives spun into the air once more and circled him with the blades pointed outward. A tornado of red shaman leaves formed around him and then sped down the hallway, splitting in two to fly down separate corridors. Triggerless pistols slid out of his sleeves and into his waiting hands. There would always be time to mourn after the killing.
____________________________________________________________
A Short Epilogue (for ‘Hero)
He skimmed low and fast over the treeline, controlling his trajectory with minute changes in the rudder bars in either hand. At long last he had good news to report to the Fliegerfuhrer. The opposition troops were withdrawing into the foothills, leaving the frontier open for the first time in years. The blitzkrieg tactics had finally paid off, it seemed. This world would soon be under the control of...
A thick, dark tendril erupted from a tree beneath him and snagged him out of the sky. His rocket fired in turbo mode, but it was no use. The gelatinous coils held him tight and dragged him violently into the crown of the tree. He disappeared amid screams of fear and pain.
Long, flailing tendrils sprang up all along the treeline at several places as the forest floor of the alien Earth was coated with a dark violet ooze. A single viscous column shot into the sky, with protruding tentacles lashing out to smash the nearby rocketeer shock troops to the ground like miniscule insects. The Weeping had arrived, under new management. Aboard her armored airship, Fliegerfuhrer Jacosta Krupp slowly blinked as her face registered shock. For her Rocket Nazi Division, things were suddenly going very wrong, very quickly...
With a bow and a flourish (perhaps “jazz hands”?), the Valley of Lost History exits my storyline, stage right...
I hear Washington’s nice this time of year.
(Hee hee. D.C. in D.C. Sounds delicious.)
Aw, shoot! They’re still in here.
(Can’tstopwon’tstopdon’tstopthepartythatrocksthebody)
AAARGH! Damn voices in my head. I’ll just have to cut them out with this trusty rusty trowel. Hmmmm. Ooh!
“Knights of Columbus, that hurts!”
EXTRACTION
It was like a violent sea frozen in time. The Weeping was engaged in a savage, desperate battle within itself. A wave of ichorous slime loomed over a building, the Colonists inside wide-eyed with terror. But the wave did not break. The surface was absolutely still, save periodic ripples that seemed to hint at what lay below. All through the Colony, the oily monstrosity flexed with inner turmoil. The humans watched in stunned silence as the dark nemesis, coated in an iridescent sheen, began to boil and shudder. Deep within the bowels of the ancient thing, an epic struggle was underway.
The Entity swept through its dark prison like a tornado. Brilliant ribbons of light wormed their way through the flowing ooze, seeking consciousness… and intent. From all sides, writhing tentacles of the Weeping set upon the shining orb, trying to smother it and drown it under the full weight of its sickly might. But the Entity broke free time and time again, shafts of bright energy bursting through its oily bonds. The struggle seemed interminable as the bizarre foes strove after victory and survival. And for the people outside, awaiting the next move of the nightmarish morass, their lives seemed suddenly so insignificant.
In a dark hallway, Doctor Curare sat clutching his head. He had not spent this much time in shadowform for years, and his entire body burned. He just needed to hold out for a few more precious moments… then he would have his answer. The salvation of the Valley all rested on this one single gamble, and he suddenly realized how close to death he was pushing himself to set it up. He would need one hell of a vacation, and he had a vague feeling where he might spend it… and with whom.
But daydreams could wait. It was time for the final play. He rose to his feet, somewhat unsteadily, and climbed the stairs to the roof of the building. From here, he could see most of the Weeping stretching out across a portion of the Colony. He watched the frozen panorama around him and looked into the sky. The silhouette of the Laszlo was almost directly overhead, circling the area in a holding pattern. The droning Spitfires had disappeared, ordered back to the Marlborough Squadron hangars to await final orders. Other rooftops were covered with the surviving Colonists, some accompanied by hosts of mages silently rehearsing their casting strategy for a final, desperate defense. The entire population of the Colony held its breath…
With a tremendous rumbling, a single towering column of ooze burst forth from the depths of the Weeping, climbing into the sky. Screams filled the air from the Colonists as thick, terrifying tentacles emerged from the crown of the oily mast and extended over the buildings. Doctor Curare ran to the edge of the rooftop and pulled out two handfuls of glittering gems. They burned bright blue and green in his hands, and he whistled sharply to get the attention of the frightful morass. Then he spoke forcefully.
“I can still seek you out within your new fortress, demonio. And I will destroy you if I must! LEAVE!!”
The column shuddered along its entire length and the vast tentacles thrashed through the sky with great menace. Doctor Curare scowled and the glowing gems rose into the air, spinning with tremendous speed. The tentacles stopped their violent motion and withdrew into the tower of ooze. The entire structure wavered for an instant, then toppled. It did not explode to the sides as the people in the nearby buildings feared, but flowed straight ahead, down a wide, empty boulevard. All around them, the Colonists could see the rest of the Weeping following suite. The murky quagmire was suddenly flowing due south in a coordinated manner that was truly impressive. The dark violet flood swept through the Colony toward Mount Jennifer, channeling its way through the streets and alleys without causing damage. The Entity was in control.
The Colonists gave chase, hollering and cheering. Doctor Curare dropped unseen into a side alley and flowed into darkness once more, slipping through the shadowy streets to reach the Snowflake Gate. It had been left clear as per his instructions, and he watched the massive entirety of the Weeping slick into the mountain cavern. He followed, and slipped through the Projection wall. Within the fog-filled chamber, he made damn sure the oozing monstrosity funneled into the proper Pillar Gate. Doctor Curare walked out into the open air of a safe Colony with a smile on his face and a body in tremendous pain. But he could live with the pain. It was the pain of victory.
Just one last thing to do. Curare walked once more into the Grand Chamber, and the entire High Council stood at his approach. They bowed low, and he acknowledged them with a smile. He stood before the awe-stricken Cammy Devereaux and addressed her.
“Lady Devereaux, you will need to withdraw all of your forces.”
“Oh… of course. With the Weeping gone, the Colony defense…”
“No. You misunderstand. The other troops. And those of the population you can. Get them out now. Their fight is over.”
Cammy Devereaux was shocked. “You mean, you sent the Weeping to…”
“Divide and conquer, Lady Devereaux. Divide and conquer.”
Curare was walking out of the Grand Chamber, on his way to seek out Alita Muldoon, when his wristcom let out a hailing frequency. Mierda. If the team hadn’t found their way out of the Valley by now, there would be hell to pay. Bandito’s trail could cool off in a hurry. He pushed his reception key and the LCD mini-screen lit up. The message was not from Kiyagi. It was not from either of the Jaguar Assassins. The message was an emergency broadcast directly from Aztechnology Temple Prime. Communications lines were up. The Valley shield was down. Doctor Curare felt the strength flow out of him as he leaned against the building. Not now. Chac, not now. He read on. The Valley would be public knowledge in under 4 days. Bandito had been turned. The team was split apart, with Kiyagi MIA. Everything had gone to hell, and Ocelot was leading a desperate assault on an Interest stronghold in Caracas where Flamenca was being held. Curare punched in a coordinate code for an Aztechnology transport pod, acting on reflex through a fog of cold numbness. It would have to be one of his fastest pods. He glanced back once at the Grand Chamber building. There would be no time for farewells. No sleep... ‘til victory.
____________________________________________________________
3... 2... 1...
The muffled explosion went off around the corner as the gas grenade detonated. Ocelot flipped her mask on and popped two clips into the twin sleek pistols. She edged along the wall and slid around the corner. She could hear coughing but there was no movement. She sprinted forward into the dense cloud. Suddenly she could see the waving beams of laser sights. She threw herself into a full body slide, slipping between the guards and dropping them with the silenced pistols. She popped to her feet without stopping and dashed to the side into a narrow hallway. A single blank door was at the end of the hall, and overhead a large tubular conduit led from the hall through the wall with the door. Ocelot saw the door handle turn in slow motion and reacted instantly. She blasted a panel off of the conduit and leapt high, grabbing the tubes inside. She tightened her gut and swung her legs in front of her, pulling them inside the conduit and using her momentum to slide down the metal surface. She winced at the deafening sound of bullets piercing the metallic conduit around her. She pulled herself along by the pipes, gritting her teeth against their burning surfaces. When she was well inside the next room, she unclipped a grenade and rolled it behind her. It clattered along the metal surface before falling through the missing panel and exploding when it hit the floor below.
Ocelot knocked through the panel she was crouching on an instant later, shooting two guards as she dropped to the floor on top of the metal square. She picked up the thin panel and hurled it across the room, where it decapitated a suited agent. A second agent drew a long, heavy gun that sparked and activated with a loud hum. Ocelot turned and ran for the far wall as a sparking energy blast struck just behind her. A floor grid of laser tracks activated, bright vertical beams slicing in an erratic pattern. She dashed in between them, executing several cartwheels as horizontal beams swept past. Flamenca would laugh at this shit, she though irritably. And perhaps she will again soon enough. Ocelot reached the far wall, where a command console sat next to a security door. The agent behind her deactivated the laser grid and ran toward her, his weapon recharging with an evil whine. Ocelot saw the laser control button on the console and pressed it with pleasure. The beams reappeared and the agent froze for a millisecond before the beams passed through his body and his weapon. The sparking gun fell to the floor with a crash, sparks flying everywhere. With a high-pitched scream that sounded like metal scraping on metal, the body of the agent fell apart in long slabs and sparks mixed with a strange viscous fluid spilled out onto the floor. Ocelot turned back to the console and did a quick rewire on the panel. She held her breath and pushed the ENTER key. The door slid open. Flamenca was laying on a grey metal slab, pulsating energy coils holding her down.
A new alarm sounded, reverberating through the halls of the Interest stronghold. Ocelot cursed once and ran inside.
____________________________________________________________
BAMF!
Claws dug into her back as Bandito’s full weight struck Mariposa from behind like a speeding train. She opened her mouth in a silent scream as she pitched forward, catching herself from a fall with her hands and launching into a high handspring. Bandito slipped for an instant and she contorted midair to slam her elbow into his chest and slice him across the face with one of her discs. He snarled and pushed himself away.
BAMF!
Bandito was suddenly perched behind President Chavez, the claws of his right hand digging across the man’s throat. Mariposa flung the discs at him and they both hit, sending him rolling onto the carpeted floor with shrieks of pain. Mariposa vaulted over the desk with one hand, the other slipping a silver vial out of her kimono. She poured the contents across the President’s neck and ignited it with a spark from striking her discs together. The violet flame powder flashed bright and cauterized the wounds. Mariposa’s leg snapped backward with frightening speed as her lightning reflexes resulted in a kick that would have snapped a man’s neck. Her foot smashed into the angry beast’s face and he sprung backward, blue blood flowing freely from his snarling mouth. Mariposa crouched directly in front of the President, her discs spinning silently. She dared him to try again, her dark eyes fierce and unblinking. The Junglefreak’s head suddenly snapped up, as if hearing some distant call. He looked back at the petite figure in yellow with a low hiss before the scales across his body flexed upward.
BAMF!
Mariposa waited for several moments, every sense alerted for an attack. But nothing came. Bandito had left. She checked the unconscious man once more, then slipped out the door and ran swiftly for the nearest window. She knew where to find him.
____________________________________________________________
The six men in dark suits walked smoothly in sync down the hallway, reports of the battle playing in their earpieces. The inner surface of their mirror shades contained screens that scrolled incoming data from motion sensors and security cameras. Containment Unit C had been infiltrated. They watched the footage of the slender figure in black emerging from the Unit, the prone form of the female Subject draped over her shoulder. She ran along the wall, firing at incoming soldiers, before she shot out the camera. The men in black broke into a synchronized run toward the position. One of the agents suddenly noted that motion detectors had tripped in the adjacent compartment and stopped. His head swiveled to the side to peer through the glass panel that lined the hallway.
The glass exploded as a barrage of darts flew through it, striking three of the agents. They were shock darts, and the suited figures convulsed as the currents overpowered their electronic circuits. The other agents smoothly drew gleaming silver pistols as giant figures smashed bodily through the remnants of the panels. One of the Anaconda Guards smashed a pistol aside with the hilt of his Olmec blade before driving it into the agent’s throat. A mix of blood and white viscous fluid spurted forth as the Guard followed through with the stroke, finally grabbing the agent’s short hair and tearing his head clean off. He hurled it at another agent, knocking him off balance. Another Guard caught him in an armlock and twisted as he flexed. A tremendous cracking was heard as the agent yelled. The Anaconda Guard spun, kicking the man hard in the gut and forcing him to bend. Then he snapped his knee upward into the agent’s face and snapped his neck. The Guard casually stepped around the agent, crumpling to the ground with a frozen expression of shock written on his face. The remaining agent managed to squeeze a shot off in the split-second attack, hitting one of the Guards in the chest. The blast knocked the muscled figure back through the glass panel shards, sliding along the floor beyond, already dead. From behind the agent loomed a Guard who grabbed the man’s face and ripped his head around even as the Guard’s obsidian blade tore through his rib cage. The Guard released the agent with a jerk, and he spun to the ground as blood spattered the sterile hallway. The remaining Anaconda Guards grabbed the weapons and ran toward where Ocelot was desperately fighting.
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Scout Martinez worked furiously at the computer console. The satellite relay bug that Kiyagi had installed was relatively simple, and he would be able to bypass it in a few more minutes. With Ocelot and the Anaconda Guards already in the Interest complex, they would need the Fuego units as a last resort. He just needed to send the precise coordinates for the beacons they had set up. He glanced down at the list he had scribbled down and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Something...right behind him.
The clawed hand wrapped around his face as he tried to scream. He felt a searing pain in his back as he fell to his knees, hot breath on his face. He recognized the creature and wanted to call out, to scream something that would register in the beast’s memory. But he couldn’t and the last thing he felt was the flash of agony as the creature’s jaws closed around his neck.
The Junglefreak flashed outside the warehouse as a black stealth helicopter swung in low over the complex. The beast heard a subsonic homing whistle and loped toward the helicopter. Suddenly he felt three needle-sharp pains in his side and a flow of warmth passing through his body. He flexed his body before the effects of the curare could overpower him. He flashed to the helicopter and passed out as it banked away hard. A spinning disc flying through the air barely missed the rotors before it arced through the air into the waiting grasp of Mariposa. She watched the helicopter leave and then slipped into an unguarded entrance to the Interest compound. A few moments later, a gleaming metallic vessel floated over the adjacent rooftops and touched down. The dark figure slipped out like a ghost and vanished into one of warehouses.
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Ocelot pressed against the wall of the corridor as bullets whizzed past. She bent down, placing the unconscious Flamenca onto the cold floor. The firing stopped for a moment and she ran out shooting. She drove the troops back behind a partition before she ducked into a doorway, smoothly switching clips. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. She heard an electronic whining as an agent’s plasma rifle warmed up. Ocelot sprang around the corner and began firing to keep the soldiers down. She sprinted at the agent, dropping into a slide as the plasma charge flew over her head and blasted through the rear wall. She popped back to her feet and fired bullets through both of his eye sockets with her twin pistols. The agent’s head exploded in a flurry of sparks and a mist of blood. At that moment the Anaconda Guards arrived and engaged the soldiers.
One of the Anaconda Guards picked up Flamenca easily and slung her over his shoulder. There were now only three Guards left, and Ocelot ordered them to take the lead. She watched their backs, where the threat of attack was greatest. For a few minutes there was no activity. Perhaps the Interest had evacuated the complex. It was a glimmer of hope that Ocelot held until she heard the footsteps behind her. Agents coming, fast. She ushered the Guards around the next corner, ordering them to continue on. She found a good position and checked her pistols. Everything was ready. She barely registered a small light on the wall next to her change from red to green. And then a blinding flash...
Eva Vasquez lay in a pool of her own blood. A fiercely loyal member of Aztechnology to the last, the woman known to many only as Ocelot slowly leveled her guns at the turn in the hallway ahead of her, hearing the footsteps of approaching agents. She did not try to rise. Tears filled her eyes with any movement of her neck, and the vague details in her peripheral vision told her enough. She gritted her teeth against the pain and prepared for her last stand. Time slowed, and there was a moment of silence. She saw the bouncing sphere appear in the hallway from around the corner. Her vision focused in a split second and she shot the sphere out of the air. She shot it twice more, sending it ricocheting back down the hall and around the corner. Her aim was still true. The grenade exploded just out of sight and screams echoed down the hallway. She only had a few bullets left, and she wouldn’t be able to reach her reserve clips. It was now physically impossible. She could feel the numbness creeping upward as paralysis crept through her body. Soon she would lose control of her arms, and her pistols would become paperweights.
She heard more movement. They were not giving up; that much was certain. And now her sight was fading. Everything was becoming dark. NO, her mind screamed out. Her vision was still clear. The hallway itself was darkening. The sounds became louder from around the corner, and she saw an agent thrown bodily against the wall of the hallway she was slumped in, a massive knife buried to the hilt in his face. The knife pulled out on its own and spun in the air as others joined it. Doctor Curare swept around the corner as the knives spun around him in a controlled orbit. Then the knives clattered to the floor and the shadows dropped away when he saw Ocelot, his concentration broken. The doctor of shadows ran to her and gently placed his hand under her head as a trickle of blood ran from her mouth. He ran through a mental list of potions and incantations, but it was too late. Far too late.
“Era un placer, Doctor. Gracias.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but she smiled through the pain and the creeping grasp of death. Ocelot’s body shuddered once and she was silent forever after.
Doctor Curare wept. Tears streamed down his face as he brought the still body of his fallen friend close to him. He wept until the darkness within his soul enveloped his grief and drowned it. It flowed outward as rage consumed him, as the hallway around him grew dark. The rage pushed past the grief and the fatigue and everything else until he leapt to his feet with a roar. The obsidian knives spun into the air once more and circled him with the blades pointed outward. A tornado of red shaman leaves formed around him and then sped down the hallway, splitting in two to fly down separate corridors. Triggerless pistols slid out of his sleeves and into his waiting hands. There would always be time to mourn after the killing.
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A Short Epilogue (for ‘Hero)
He skimmed low and fast over the treeline, controlling his trajectory with minute changes in the rudder bars in either hand. At long last he had good news to report to the Fliegerfuhrer. The opposition troops were withdrawing into the foothills, leaving the frontier open for the first time in years. The blitzkrieg tactics had finally paid off, it seemed. This world would soon be under the control of...
A thick, dark tendril erupted from a tree beneath him and snagged him out of the sky. His rocket fired in turbo mode, but it was no use. The gelatinous coils held him tight and dragged him violently into the crown of the tree. He disappeared amid screams of fear and pain.
Long, flailing tendrils sprang up all along the treeline at several places as the forest floor of the alien Earth was coated with a dark violet ooze. A single viscous column shot into the sky, with protruding tentacles lashing out to smash the nearby rocketeer shock troops to the ground like miniscule insects. The Weeping had arrived, under new management. Aboard her armored airship, Fliegerfuhrer Jacosta Krupp slowly blinked as her face registered shock. For her Rocket Nazi Division, things were suddenly going very wrong, very quickly...
With a bow and a flourish (perhaps “jazz hands”?), the Valley of Lost History exits my storyline, stage right...
I hear Washington’s nice this time of year.
(Hee hee. D.C. in D.C. Sounds delicious.)
Aw, shoot! They’re still in here.