G.I. Joe: Agent Blue Jaye and the Blood of Serpentor

By John McGregor

Abstract

It has been two years since the flood and investigation into Saturn Industries. During the time, Lakeside, Vermont has returned to a state of peace. However, a failed experiment has unleashed a new terror on the town. Completely outmatched, Blue Jaye and her team of new and old Joes will come to face with their greatest adversary yet.

Stories by John McGregor:

GI Joe: Agent Blue Jaye and the Beasts of Lakeside

GI Joe: Agent Blue Jaye and the Baroness's Last Stand

GI Joe: Breaker's Story*

GI Joe: Agent Blue Jaye and the Blood of Serpentor*

*Best if read together (no particular order)

Preface

Thank you for reading! I just wanted to mention that the majority of this story had been completed before the COVID-19 and the horrific murder of George Floyd. While Blue Jaye's world of Lakeside is fictitious and far from these issues, I wanted to take the time to honor the memories of all those who have died of COVID-19 and pray for their family and friends. I also want to thank the health workers and essential workers for their ongoing efforts fighting the virus. In addition, I want to take time to honor the memory of George Floyd and all the people of color who have been subjugated to unlawful and inhumane acts of violence, hate, and racism. Larry Hama was always conscious of making the Joes as diverse as possible, which was one of the reasons I love and respect his creation.

Dedication

This story is dedicated to Chris, Dana, and Fox…

Part 1: Discovery

Chapter 1

Thin clouds hung below the blackened sky during the final hour of night. The spring air was crisp, and a white layer of frost covered the budding branches, sidewalks, and lawns of the small, sleeping neighborhood of Lakeside, Vermont. Stars shone through a mist onto the small grouping of houses, nestled along a forest of rising pines, oaks, and maples. Spiraling above the tips of the trees was the steeple of Lakeside University's chapel.

There were ten houses in the neighborhood, parallel until connected at the end by a cul-de-sac scattered with parked cars, their windshields white from the cold. Colonial style houses, with a mix of wood, stone, and brick, sat sleeping among lawns, picket fences, and the occasional swing set.

The house at the middle of the cul-de-sac was built over 250 years ago, close to the inception of the town. The front was a two-story Dutch Colonial that had been completely redesigned on the inside through its varied ownerships. However, there was a small brick structure, once used as a carriage house, that had remained mostly intact since the property was originally built, stashed away in the back, huddled around overgrown brush and vine. A brick hearth was built into the far side, intended for the carriage house master to keep himself and the horses warm during the fall and winter months.

The stone floor of the hearth began to stir, before slowly sliding open, exposing a blackened hole. The natural quiet was interrupted suddenly with a string of coughs and curses as a form hoisted himself out of the ground.

He wore a lab coat soiled with blood that was also spattered across his face. Patting himself down, the man realized that he was unscathed and that the blood was not his. His eyes were frantic, dilated from shock of what had just happened and what was going to happen. Trying to get a hold of the bleak reality and his unknown future he stood in the darkness, taking deep breaths.

The vibration from the phone in his pocket broke his meditation and he closed his eyes before taking the call. Cautiously swiping his finger across the screen of his phone, he raised it up to his ear while clearing his throat. A quiet breath came through the static.

"Doctor Branson, was the project a success?" A calm, female voice asked from the other end of the line.

The man cleared his throat again.

"Yes. However, there was a complication." He stammered, waiting for a reply. There was none. "The patient escaped." Shaken, he continued. "Also, there were casualties."

For a long moment, there was no answer.

"Escaped?" The woman finally asked from the other line. Her voice was still calm.

"Yes Commander Minh." Doctor Branson replied reluctantly. "And I take fully responsibility." There was another long silent pause.

"No need doctor. This is most excellent news." Commander Minh replied before abruptly cutting the line dead.

Chapter 2

While still dark, the chirps of awakening birds sounded the alarm that dawn was fast approaching. Running barefoot, dressed in a black sports bra and a stained pair of sweatpants, a young woman in her early twenties charged through the forest, dodging branches and leaping over fallen brush. White crusted leaves covering the woodland floor softly gave way as she continued onward.

My name is Emily, she thought to herself as she watched herself running from above in the trees. Wait, am I dreaming? She asked herself as she acknowledged the out of body experience she was having, following herself half-naked sprinting mindlessly through the wood. A moment of dread came over her. Am I dead? She thought, wrought with sudden terror. No, what she was experiencing was too real, she finally concluded.

Continuing to watch herself dart past a series of pines, she wondered what she could do to make herself stop running. Not knowing if it would work, she tried to breathe deep and closed her eyes. After another deep breath, she opened them.

Her sight was now at eye level, running through the woods, brushing back a branch as she plowed forward. Looking at her right arm, she saw a long red scratch with a few drops of blood forming at one end. The sensation overwhelmed her, and her out of body experience faded. The wind in her face was rejuvenating, and the cold brought back memories that seemed to have been dormant for decades.

Faces of a tribe of warriors, running through the woods alongside her, some on horseback, hooting and shouting came to. A hunting party, as ancient as the forest itself, raiding a herd of elk as the sun began to rise on the familiar Apache lands. Her legs had raced forward, mimicking the gallops of their prey, its leaps and turns, until she could anticipate their next move.

The memory was cut short as a bell rang out in the early morning. The woman grabbed both sides of her head and dropped to her knees. She tried to scream but her face only tensed as she shut her eyes tight and huddled into herself. A second ring of the bell ushered another series of memories like a car crashing inside her forehead.

A church. A memory of her standing in front of a chapel, smiling with other girls, holding onto the shoulder of a boy rushed back to her. She remembered the must from the boy's neck smelt of oatmeal and timber wood. The memory shifted. Now, they were in another room, her and the boy, laughing. She saw rows of books and computers. A library?

The bells stopped. Only the calls from a group of chickadees and cardinals could be heard. The pain in her head had subsided, along with the memories. She was now back in her body again. My name was Emily, she repeated in her head. However, with the recent string of painful visions, she couldn't think of anything else. The church, the library, she remembered, fighting back another onslaught of emotion. She watched as a string of tears dropped onto a frosted leaf, reveling the color of burnt amber.

She placed the palms of her hands on the cold forest floor and closed her eyes. A soft morning breeze rattled the branches high above her as the trees swayed slowly. A low thumping began to play in the back of her head, growing in strength. It pulsed down through her neck and shoulders, warming her forearms, chest, and thighs. Like drums. War drums. In her mind, she saw the form of an elderly Native American Shaman, his skin weathered by the endless seasons, white hair braided, falling down on each breast, covered in bear pelts and beads. He raised his arm, palm facing forward. Then, the memories of the church and the library faded back into view. She opened her eyes, seeming glazed over with aged wisdom, and continued to run through the forest, toward the library and Lakeside University.

Chapter 3

The young woman named Emily stopped as the tree line opened up into an expansive green. A pink hue had begun to fade through the darkness as the threat of morning became inevitable. Small gravel paths cut through the lawn in front of her that gradually inclined to the top of a small hill where the Lakeside University Chapel resided.

The building was mostly brick, with ivory trim and a gray-green slate roof. The face of the chapel was Greek revival style, and had six Ionic columns, rising from the steps to the octagonal domed steeple, covered in a golden cupola. To the right of the church were two, seven-story brick buildings. A path led to a small darkened sliver that cut the buildings in two.

Retrieving the recent memory, the woman knew the library was behind those two buildings down the blackened alleyway. Quickly scanning the university green, she sprinted across the lawn. Traversing the distance with Olympic speed, she reached one of the buildings, flattening her back against the brick as she crouched down, peering down the darkened walkway.

Squatting in a fading shadow, she decided to move down the path cautiously until she reached the library entrance. The brick walls turned to long glass windows that stretched for at least ten yards until reaching a revolving door. A heavy chain was wrapped around the door, latched with a padlock.

Crouching down by the window, the woman surveyed inside the library. The majority of interior was dark, except for a light in the back above rows of high bookshelves, and a desk lamp by a small table and chair a little ways in from the doorway. On the table was a coffee mug and a paperback laid spread out, face down.

After a minute, a security guard came out from the darkness, whistling to himself before taking a seat in the chair and picking up the book. The woman pondered to herself in the waning darkness, knowing that her cover of night had almost expired. She scanned the area around her, and saw that on the wall in front of her, a few bricks had started to chip. Checking that the security guard was not paying attention, she rose, jumped toward the wall and jettisoned her right heal into the brick, causing a loud pop.

Grabbing a few pieces of brick that broke off, she swiftly retreated back to her crouch. A few moments later, a door to the left of the revolving entranced opened. The security guard took a step out, his flashlight shaking in front of him.

The woman whipped a piece of rock far past the guard down the path. Immediately, the guard popped out of the door, pointing the flashlight in the opposite direction where the brick landed. Silently, the woman whipped another piece that clanked down the path.

"Who's down there?" Shouted the guard, holding his flashlight up with more confidence. "We don't open for another hour. There is a curfew in this part of the University you know!"

The woman threw her last piece of brick in the same direction. The security guard cursed to himself before removing a set of keys from his pocket. She watched, as he propped the door open and walked angrily down the path in the opposite direction.

"I'm serious! I can contact your RA, suspend your meal account!" The guard grumbled as he continued on.

Seizing the opportunity, the woman darted low to the door, ducking quietly into the library. There was a large circular desk to her left and an open metal staircase to her right, leading up to the second floor. In front of her was a scattering of tables, chairs, couches, and desks. Behind were rows of books. The end of each shelf was labeled with a series of numbers.

As she moved toward the desks, her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she sat down, relieved that she was feeling like herself again. Emily, she told herself. My name is Emily. Looking around, she saw a series of tables she recognized as docking stations. Sliding her hand over the countertop, the memory of her and the boy with the familiar smile and scent returned. She and he had sat here, next to each other, talking and working on their laptops.

But now they and their laptops were gone. Other than the memory, she was left sitting in the darkened library alone and without any idea of what to do or who she was. Looking ahead, she saw a desk with a monitor, keyboard, and mouse.

Getting up, she walked to the desk and sat down. Placing her hand on the mouse, the monitor lit up. Turning her attention to the screen, she watched as the university library's homepage appeared. A slide deck shuffled a series of upcoming news and events. She clicked on one that provided a list of upcoming lectures hosted at the library.

Reading through, she stopped on one event as her heart began to race. Immediately, she grabbed her temples as the sharp pains in her head returned. Clenching her teeth, she let out a grinding scream as her fingers dug unsuccessfully into the side of her skull, trying to stop the throbbing.

"What are you doing here?" A voice rang out in the darkness.

The woman's neck whipped forward as she stared into the blinding light of the security guard's flashlight. She held a hand in front of her face blocking the now trembling beam as the security guard addressed her a second time.

"Who are you? What are you doing? I need to see your ID now!" The security guard stated.

The first true morning light shone through the windows, brightening the inside of the library enough for the woman to get a better view of her surroundings. Staring into the face of the security guard, she saw he was young. Afraid.

"ID now!" He ordered, but the woman could see his bottom lip shaking. His eyes were wide with fear.

Examining the desktop in front of her, he girl caught a glimpse of a pair of scissors in a mug with pens and pencils. Slowly, she closed her eyes and laid both her palms on the desk. Breathing deeply, she waited until the beats of the war drums returned. When her eyes opened they were clouded over.

"ID now! That's the last time I'm asking! The security guard demanded before he grabbed for the radio on his belt.

The woman took the scissor handle and smashed the blades apart on the side of the desk before flinging one toward the security guard. The guard's flashlight dropped to the floor as he grabbed his throat clasping his fingers around the handle of the scissor blade. He tried to pull it out before dropping to his knees. Blood poured through his fingers as he feebly attempted to tighten his grip. Gritting his teeth, a mist of red sputtered out. Falling face down on the floor, his body began to twitch involuntarily.

The woman rose from her seat and bent over to grab the other scissor blade that had fallen to the floor. Casually she walked over to the guard's convulsing body. She stared at the back of his head, his hair coated in sweat, his hat having fallen off. Squatting over him, she grabbed his hair with her right hand wrenching his head back. Blood squirted on to the floor in front of her as she positioned the blade at the top of his forehead. Then, she added fierce pressure as she sawed the blade backward, excitingly taking her first scalp in over 200 years.

Chapter 4

Sherriff Jason Smith put the tan police bomber jacket over his olive uniform as he hastily got ready in the small vestibule of his one bedroom, one-and-a-half bath condo off a quiet shore of Lakeside, Vermont. Zipping up his jacket, his head came face-to-face with of an old picture of himself and his mentor and predecessor, Sherriff Douglas.

In the photo, Sherriff Douglas was smiling wide, the wrinkles on his face on full display as he beamed proudly, arm tightly around Jason's shoulder. It was at Jason's graduation party from the police academy, and Sherriff Douglas had just told him he was officially part of the Lakeside police force. Looking at the picture, Jason could see the pride in Sherriff Douglas's face.

He smiled posthumously thinking of his friend and everything he learned from him, about the lake, the local forests, hunting, shooting, and boxing. The image of the two became fuzzy as Sherriff Smith wiped his eyes. Brushing himself down, he grabbed his keys from a small hallway table and walked out the door.

His second in command, Deputy Sherriff Sampson had called him at the break of dawn, frantic, informing him of a murder at the university library. Murder. The word hung in his mind like the thin layer of fog that had yet to dissolve in the morning sun. Not suicide, or accidental death, which have occasionally happened up at the college, but instead, murder.

There hadn't been a murder in Lakeside for over two years since the flood and the Saturn Industries scandal. Since then, life in town was quiet, almost normal. But news of this murder seemed more like an omen to him than anything else.

A friendly beep of a jeep horn broke his concentration and he looked toward the entrance of his condominium complex to see the familiar rig chug its way toward him. In the driver's seat sat Jessie, his longtime friend from college and life, now known as Agent Blue Jaye. The jeep was still a good hundred yards away, but he could make out some of the blue wisps of hair that fell in front of her eyes. She smiled at him which brought up all sorts of uncomfortable feelings. Nervously, he looked down at his jacket, shakily wiping it down.

When they were in school, she had wanted to be a journalist, and could have gotten a job after graduating for the Times, Associated Press, you name it. But instead, she chose a different path. During their senior year, fate had brought them together, along with her roommate Elise, to solve a mystery that was threatening the town.

It was then that they were introduced to GI Joe and Cobra, and when she and Elise decided to join the team. The Sherriff too had been a part of their ongoing adventures, but not for some time. Not until now, with this new murder.

Blue Jaye had called him immediately after he hung up with Deputy Sampson. When he saw her number his heart jumped but then the feeling had turned to dread when she mentioned the murder.

He didn't ask how she knew, her connections ran deep. When she asked if she could join him for his investigation, he knew she was being polite. Her superior, General Spirit, had given her an order. If he said no, the Sherriff knew the next call he would have received would not be as pleasant.

He had nothing against the Joes, and in fact he realized, he was a bit of a Joe himself, but he knew their involvement meant whatever was behind this murder was not cut-and-dry by any means. Every time he got involved in an investigation with Blue Jaye, it had meant risking his life. It also meant that more people would die.

The red Jeep Wrangler pulled up with its thirty-three inch all terrain tires. The Sherriff walked toward the passenger side door as the window rolled down.

"Hop in!" Blue Jaye said, giving off a warm smile.

Sitting in the passenger seat, he smiled back, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion seeing his old friend. Her hair was cut short, but longer in the front, dyed blue. She wore a yellow tactical vest and gray Carharts. Awkwardly, they both moved to give each other a hug before stopping and laughing. Finally, they embraced shortly and she gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

"It's good to see you again Jason." She said, looking at him deeply.

"You too, Jessie." He replied blushing. Laughing nervously, he was happy to see she was blushing too. Playfully, she gave him a punch to the arm.

"It's Blue Jaye, remember." She said, smiling and curling her lower lip to blow some strands of hair that fell in front of her eyes.

"How can I forget?" The Sherriff chidingly replied, gesturing to her cobalt hairdo.

She gave him another shot to the arm, this one surprisingly harder, before putting the car in gear and heading toward Lakeside University. The Sherriff pulled out his phone and his notes from Deputy Sampson's call. Reading through, he frowned.

"So, what has the general told you?" The Sherriff asked. Usually, it would be Blue Jaye who would pry into his current investigation. He grinned proudly, getting to the question first.

"Nothing. Other that I should offer to assist you. Not surprising from the general. He usually likes to keep me in the dark." Blue Jaye replied.

"That definitely sounds like the general." The Sherriff chuckled to himself looking at Blue Jaye. "I'm glad that he suggested that you offer your assistance."

Blue Jaye looked at him with a mix of annoyance and apology. "You know how it works, Jason. What do you want me to do? We're not the bad guys you know? We're here to help. And if the general calls, you and I both know you will need my help." She replied. A lump of anxiety began to rise in Jason's gut.

"I know. You are the good guys. But it is like you said, if the generals wants you involved, than we're probably dealing with something big, something dangerous." He said, trailing off at the end thinking of the implications of her presence.

"I know." Blue Jaye said truthfully. "But it is good working with you again." She said, giving him a sideways smile.

"It definitely is." The Sherriff replied, trying to smile back as the anxiety reached his chest.

"So, what do you have on the case?" Blue Jaye asked, gratefully breaking the silence.

"Not much. Sampson was brief. He just told me there was a murder, and to get down to the university library." The Sherriff paused. "He sounded spooked."

"Spooked?" Blue Jaye asked. She frowned seeing how concerned the Sherriff's face was, staring out the windshield in front of him.

"He said that the body was mutilated. Something about a cult."

"A cult?" Blue Jaye questioned, confused at what the Sherriff was trying to describe.

"He said the victim was scalped."

Chapter 5

"Scalped?" Blue Jaye asked, shocked, as she pulled the Wrangler to a stop by the front steps of the Lakeside University Chapel.

"That's what Sampson said before he got off the call." The Sherriff said somberly as he got out of the jeep.

"Is there any criminal activity with the local First Nations in the area?" Blue Jaye asked as she followed him out of the car.

"No. The Abenaki have warriors yes still, but no, not like this." He said, shaking his head, looking at the gray and green grass.

Blue Jaye opened the back door of her Jeep and removed her bow and quiver. She threw the quiver strap over the shoulder of her mustard tactical vest and attached the bow to her back. Looking over at the Sherriff, she stopped as he stared at her skeptically.

"What?" She asked plainly.

"You're not going to investigate the crime scene with that are you?" He asked her incredulously.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?" She replied.

"Because you look like you came right out of Fortnite, that's why." He stated.

"At least I don't look like a Sherriff from an X-Files episode." She retorted.

"This is my uniform!" He rebuked jokingly.

"Well this is mine." Blue Jaye said defiantly, jetting out a hip and giving him a coy smirk.

The Sherriff laughed, happy to be laughing like the old days, back in school. "Alright, have it your way." He said as they continued to quip, walking toward the building.

Yellow police tape blocked all pathways leading up to the library. The Sherriff and Blue Jaye ducked under the blockade, past a crowd of concerned students congregated in an array of winter jackets, sweatpants, and slippers. The front door to the library was propped open, and an officer with gloves and a face mask walked out carrying a few evidence bags.

As the Sherriff and Blue Jaye entered, they saw a group of police with blue gloves taking pictures at the floor. A large wooden cabinet blocked what they were taking pictures of, but Blue Jaye could see a lifeless hand sprawled out by the policeman's feet.

She looked to her left and saw the Sherriff had started talking with Deputy Sherriff Sampson. Sitting next to them, was a young girl, probably a student, hunched over herself sobbing uncontrollably. There was a medical technician kneeling in front of her with her hand on her shoulder, speaking to her gently. Blue Jaye walked up to the Sherriff and Deputy Sampson, giving the girl a sympathetic look.

"Sampson says that this poor girl was scheduled to open the library today. She found the body when she walked in. She called police and locked herself in the bathroom until they arrived. Didn't see anything else." The Sherriff said as another medical technician came over and helped the student out of the library into the back of an ambulance.

"Body is over here." Deputy Sampson said as he led them over to the group of police officers taking pictures of the victim.

"Oh my God!" Blue Jaye gasped as they rounded the cabinet, the victim's body now in full view.

The security guard was slumped over to his left, sitting on his knees. His arms were twisted and sprayed out unnaturally on the floor. His eyes stared down at the ground, inches from the tile. The top layer of skin from his forehead to the middle-back of his scalp was removed, torn off, the exposed flesh glistening from the overhead fluorescent lights. The police had stopped taking pictures and were staring as she examined the body in horror. The Sherriff turned to address the officers.

"You all are familiar with Agent Blue Jaye. She has been assigned to assist on this investigation." Sherriff Smith stated commandingly.

The officers frowned before nodding back to him with an uncomfortable affirmation. Quietly, the group dispersed, leaving the two of them alone with the body. The Sherriff walked past Blue Jaye and crouched down, seemingly unfazed by the gore. Leaning in close to the victim's face, he grunted to himself before standing up and wiping his mouth nervously.

"Looks like the victim was stabbed in the throat by a pair of scissors before the killer scalped him. Standard pair, blue plastic handle." The Sherriff stated, continuing to wipe his mouth.

"He was still alive when he was scalped?" Blue Jaye asked as she overcame her initial shock and squatted down to get a better look at the victim's wounds.

"It appears so." The Sherriff said softly before falling silent.

"Looks like he was stabbed with half a pair of scissors." Blue Jaye added, tilting her head as close as she could to the body. It smelt like raw hamburger, just starting to go bad. She stood up. "The killer probably used the other half to scalp him."

The Sherriff took out his notepad and jotted their observations down. "So the security guard comes up on the killer unexpectedly, and he kills him. Why? What could be so important here that would warrant the need to murder?"

"Maybe the killer was mentally unstable?" Blue Jaye hypothesized.

"Possibly." The Sherriff said, wiping his mouth again. "I'll have Sampson contact the Medical Center and any other mental health facilities to see if all their patients are accounted for. But still, there is no other evidence other than the murder. No computers stolen, no electronics taken, everything seems to be in place." He said frustratingly.

Blue Jaye looked down at the victim. The guard's flashlight was behind him on the floor circled with chalk next to a small red flag. She noticed it was still on, pointing at a row of docking stations. A proctor's desk sat in front of the stations with a monitor and keyboard, next to a coffee mug filled with pens and pencils.

Blue Jaye walked over around the desk. Carefully, she used the tip of her boot to push away the rolling chair.

"Sherriff! You need to see this!" She exclaimed as the Sherriff quickly ran over to where she was now squatting down. Unzipping a pocket of her combat vest, she removed a pair of tweezers and grabbed a piece of blue plastic from the floor. "This looks like it came from the handle of the scissors doesn't it?" She asked.

"It sure does." The Sherriff stated excitedly, leaning in, now shoulder to shoulder with Blue Jaye. Quickly, they stood up. "So the killer was sitting at the desk when the security guard came up on him."

"That's what it looks like." Blue Jaye said confidently.

"So what was the killer doing, sitting here?" Sherriff Smith asked aloud, but he had already started answering his own question.

Placing his notebook back in his pocket, the Sherriff took his pen and gently tapped the side of the mouse resting on the desk. Suddenly, the monitor flashed and an image appeared on the screen. It was an advertisement for an upcoming lecture that was scheduled to be held at the library this Friday. The talk was on genetic sequencing and was being given by a Doctor Branson of the Lakeside University Genetics Division.

Sherriff Smith called over for Deputy Sampson who came hustling over. Quickly, he relayed to have the desk, mug, and the entire computer system dusted for prints. He turned to Blue Jaye with an inquisitive look.

"Let's pay this Doctor Branson a visit shall we?"

Chapter 6

The young woman named Emily woke up in an alleyway, in between a trash and recycling dumpster. The sun had risen a quarter into the morning sky as beams shot through the budding tree branches. A side door to the alley burst open, and Emily shimmied her back, hiding from sight as best as she could.

As she crouched inward, she heard soft footsteps coming closer. A few moments later, she was face to face with an older woman with short white hair, wearing a flower apron over a tan dress that ran down to her gleaming white running shoes. The elderly woman dropped her small bag of trash and gasped at the sight of her.

"Oh my Lord child, what are you doing here? Where are your clothes? Your shoes?" She asked with an empathetic smile over her wrinkled face.

The young woman didn't say anything but kept staring in silence. The elderly woman reached out but the girl whipped her legs as inward as possible, hugging her knees.

"It's ok. I'm not going to hurt you. Are you hungry? You shouldn't eat that." The woman said, gesturing to a moldy piece of bread grasped in Emily's hand.

Emily looked down, shocked at the piece of bread before she threw it in front of her, like an unwanted spider. She looked up to the old woman in the apron pleading with her. She wanted to speak, but did not.

"Come with me. I can get you some food and some clothes and shoes. What is your name? Do you have a family?" The older woman asked, continuing to move closer to the girl.

This time, Emily girl let the woman gently help her up off the ground with an aged, but surprisingly strong arm. The woman smiled at her widely and reached around, leading her through the side door of the alley, rubbing and patting her back.

"My name is Sister Joan. This is the Second Congregational Church of Lakeside. Welcome." The prioress stated warmly. Finally, the young girl replied.

"Thank you. My name is Emily." She said softly.

"What a beautiful name." Sister Joan said, leading the girl into the back of the church.

They walked through a small hallway decorated with a series of wood cuts representing specific scenes of Jesus's trial, crucifixion, and resurrection. The hallway opened up into a small kitchen with linoleum tile and faded yellow wallpaper. Hand knit crochet pieces of flowers and psalms were framed and hung on the wall over a simple square kitchen table. A cream colored Frigidaire refrigerator stood on the adjacent wall covered in pictures, magnets, and a small white board that listed a few grocery items.

"Please have a seat." Sister Joan stated as she gestured to a chair by the kitchen table.

Emily sat down innocently and watched the small energetic nun scurry away out of the kitchen only to return a moment later with a soft quilt. The sister gently wrapped it around Emily, giving her a few more back rubs before walking to a vintage Caloric gas stove. Igniting the front two burners, the nun moved to the fridge and grabbed a tray of butter, loaf of bread, and a bag of sliced cheese. Grabbing a cast iron skillet, the woman dropped a healthy pad of butter and let it sizzle before constructing a grilled cheddar sandwich. On the other burner, she heated up a sauce pan and poured in a can of tomato soup.

Emily watched with a surging hunger as the aromas traveled through her nostrils into the empty pit of her stomach. Waiting patiently, Sister Joan assembled the warm meal onto a plate and placed it in front of the Emily. Smiling, she went back to the sink and began filling a medium sized basin full of warm water.

Unable to contain her hunger over her etiquette, Emily grabbed the sandwich with both hands, taking a crispy, buttery bite. She devoured the grilled cheese in moments and picked up the bowl of soup and brought it to her mouth, gulping it down loudly.

Sister Joan turned to check on Emily and gave a short laugh seeing the young girl greedily upend the bowl before putting it down with a thick soup moustache on her lip. Emily softly apologized while wiping her mouth. Sister Joan approached still chuckling holding the saucepan.

"Don't worry my child. Eat up. I am going to find you some clothes from our donation bin." The Sister said as she poured the rest of the soup into Emily's bowl before heading out of the kitchen.

Emily looked down at her refilled bowl as she felt the soothing sensation of a good meal falling to her empty stomach. Picking up her spoon, she ate the second bowl slowly, letting her body relax. A few moments had passed before Sister Joan returned with a pile of folded clothes and a pair of sneakers. Placing them on a chair next to Emily, she walked over to the sink and retrieved the basin of water and a washcloth. Kneeling down, the Sister placed the cloth in the warm water and gently started cleaning Emily's feet.

"You don't need to do that." Emily said as she pulled her foot away.

The nun gently grabbed her foot again and brought it back to the water, rubbing the top with the warm wet cloth. The calming sensation was overwhelming.

"Child. Your feet are dirty, scraped, and cut. If you don't clean them off, you will surely get an infection." Sister Joan stated before putting her head down and continuing.

Emily sat quietly as the Sister lightly rubbed the heal of her foot. The warm sensation made her eyes close as her heart beat slowed. After a few long deep breaths she opened her eyes.

However, the quaint kitchen was gone. Its sun worn yellow walls were replaced with intricate wooden carvings flanked by large marble columns reaching upward to a ceiling that curved outward and upward. She was in a Pagoda. Two golden dragons curled up each column, their jaws open, facing one another. The room was full of low, slick wooden tables which were topped with enamel elephants, tigers, and large porcelain urns. The doorframe at the far end of the room had changed, and was now opened, showing a serene courtyard and coy pond.

Raising her hands, Emily found her wrists were adorned with a variety of golden and jade bracelets and rings. Her hands were a softer white than she remembered, her fingers a silky cream. Looking down, she saw an elderly woman washing her feet. But it wasn't Sister Joan. This woman was younger, her jet black hair was tied in a tight bun. She wore a slim fitted tan Komono and worked silently, trying to keep her head down. Another woman in a similar Komono and hair style came over and kneeled next to her, clearly averting her eyes from Emily's gaze. Dipping a small cloth in a pail of water, she began to wash Emily's face.

"Such a pretty face under all that dirt." A familiar voice echoed in the distance.

Slowly, the Asian decor around Emily faded and the small homely kitchen returned. Sister Joan was smiling happily, wiping Emily's face. Emily looked down at her feet to see them washed and bandaged. The elderly nun stood up with her hands on her hips, looking at her work proudly. Grabbing the pile of clothes, she placed them on the table and took Emily's empty dishes.

"Go ahead and get dressed. I'll clean up here. If you need to come back for anything, don't hesitate. The church and God are here for us all." Sister Joan said as she kissed Emily on the forehead before hustling back to the sink and lathering up a sponge with dish soap.

Emily quickly put on the clothes. A new sports bra, underwear, t-shirt, sweatshirt, jacket, jeans, woolen socks, and a barely worn pair of Reeboks. After getting herself dressed, Emily zipped up her coat and walked over to Sister Joan to say goodbye. As she neared the Sister, she looked at the various pictures on the fridge. One was of Sister Joan an elderly man, tall and powerful, but with a kind smile. They were shoulder to shoulder smiling with caps on. The plain dress the Sister was wearing was replaced with a jersey with the words, Lake Monsters written across the front.

A sudden searing pain shot to the front of Emily's forehead. She grabbed her temples and let out a cough before hugging her stomach and crouching inward. Sister Joan turned and saw the young girl hunched over in pain.

Memories of Emily at a game, at the same ballpark came racing into her head. Again, she saw the same boy from her previous vision. He was sitting next to her, wearing the same jersey and hat. His familiar musk began to overwhelm her.

"Oh my goodness! Are you all right?" Sister Joan asked running over to Emily and helping her stand straight.

"I'm fine." Emily shakily reassured her. "It is just a stomach cramp. I must have eaten too fast."

"It's ok, just take it easy." The Sister replied, now rubbing her back again.

"Sister? Where was this picture taken?" Emily asked.

"Oh that?" Sister Joan replied. "That's from a few years ago at a Lake Monsters game. Father McCabe took his and our congregation during the summer. I grew up in Cambridge, and my father would take me to see the Red Sox play. I have always loved baseball."

"The Lake Monsters? They play around here?" Emily asked eagerly.

"That's right. Up at Century Field on the top of the hill behind the University. Though they are closed till June." Sister Joan said.

Emily walked up to the Sister and gave her a genuine hug.

"Thank you Sister. I will not forget your kindness." She stated before leaving the church.

Chapter 7

Century Field lay behind Lakeside University perched on the edge of a hill, surrounded by forest. The ballfield was built 100 years after Lakeside's first graduating class, thus its name. Since the late 1800s, the baseball field was home to travelling competitions put on by Harvard University in baseball's early semi-professional tours. Babe Ruth even played a game at Century, travelling with a summer league with the Red Sox. Now, the field was home to a Single-A affiliate, called the Lake Monsters.

A simple park, Century Field consisted of a steel and concrete grandstand that wrapped around home plate from third to first base. The stands were covered by a roof with exposed beams dividing each section. A waist-high chain fence ran parallel to the left and right field foul lines and a vintage wooden outfield wall curved around the far end of the field, complete with hand painted advertisements from local businesses. An electronic scoreboard sat on top the centerfield wall, its screen dark.

It was now mid-day, and the sun had neared its apex in the cloudy blue sky. A cold gust of wind whipped around the vacant seats and rattled the wooden shutters that covered the concession stand windows. The recently raked outfield grass was a mix of gray and brown with wisps of green.

The young woman called Emily sat in the empty stands, looking blankly out onto the field. She stared at the empty seat next to her and closed her eyes, trying to retrieve the vision that had come to her in the church kitchen. Slowly, the memory faded into focus.

She tried to memorize the details of the boy's face. He had dark brown eyes and hair, high cheekbones, and a jaw that was cut into a tender smile. As the memory increased in intensity, she could see that the boy was not wearing a Lake Monsters Jersey. Instead, she was wearing the jersey. He was wearing a letterman jacket, with block letters LAKESIDE sewn across the breast. They were holding hands, and she remembered the air was humid with a slight warm breeze.

"What are you doing here?" A man's voice shouted below her.

Her eyes shot open as she was wrenched from her memory. Looking below, an older man with a blue uniform was pointing a strong finger toward her. Frozen, she locked eyes with him. She saw he was neither scared nor happy to see her.

"You can't be here. This park is closed. You're trespassing. What's your name?" The guard demanded as he walked up the aisle toward her seat. When he reached the end of her row, he stared at her, a vintage fury in his eyes.

"Do you speak English? Are you on drugs or something?" He shouted as he started side-stepping down the row toward her, grabbing his radio.

Her senses back in order, Emily darted the opposite side, racing down the steps and back around into the concessions area. The fading shouts of the security guard echoed behind her as she neared the exit gate. As she began her stride, another security guard shot out on her right, grabbing her forearms tight. His radio was squawking with the angry voice of the older guard. Releasing one of her arms, the guard grabbed his radio and clicked the button.

"I got her! I'm by Gate B!" The man shouted. His voice was younger than the other guard, but his grip was experienced and strong.

"Hold her tight. I'll be there in a second. I'm radioing the police, letting them know we got another transient." The older guard's voice crackled over the radio static.

"What's your name girl?" The younger guard demanded, grabbing her with both hands again.

Emily struggled to break free. Grunting, she clenched her teeth as her heart began to race. It felt like it was about to beat out of her chest. It was like a drum. Like war drums. No, she thought to herself in a panic.

"Please, stop!" She screamed, twisting herself to face the guard.

He flinched and loosened his grip for a moment when he saw her eyes. They were wild and pleading. Then, they glossed over with a light liquid film.

Surprised, the guard stammered. "Wait." He managed to get out before she attacked.

Yanking free of his grip, Emily crouched into a quick squat before propelling herself upward with her right arm extended, palm out. The bottom of her hand connected at the point where the guard's upper throat met his jaw. With a loud crack, his head whipped back and he collapsed instantly on the ground.

The guard's body gave a relieved convulsion as a low moan escaped his mouth. Bending over and grabbing the night stick from his utility belt, the woman raised it high before bringing it down on the side of his face. The man's head cracked open with a wet wheeze as she raised the weapon above her head for another strike.

"Bill!" Shouted the older guard, now running toward her at a frantic pace. His hands fumbled on his belt as he struggled to free his tazer.

Racing to him in a quick side-step, the woman leaped, bringing her heel down on the outside of the guard's left knee. With a snap, his leg broke at the joint and he dropped to his side, howling for help. Emily snapped her arm down with the night stick breaking his man's lower jaw, reducing his cries to a fractured whine.

Grabbing the man's belt, she flipped him on his stomach and took his tazer and radio. She also found a small satchel full of candy and the guard's Leatherman. Fiddling with the tool for a moment, she smiled as she protracted the steel saw. Straddling herself on the guard's shoulders, she clutched a tuft of hair from the back of his skull and pulled his head backward. Slowly, she took the man's scalp. Dumping the bag of candy on the ground, she placed the scalp in the small pouch and walked over to the other guard, the Leatherman clenched tightly in her hand.

Chapter 8

Framed degrees and awards covered the walls of Doctor Sandbar's office in the Lakeside Medical Center's Genetics Department. An ivory statue of a whooping crane stood tall on the right side of his desk, while two neat stacks of manila medical folders lay on the left. Tall money trees rose from the back corners of the room, their roots twisted around in a helix. Sherriff Smith and Agent Blue Jaye sat in two padded chairs facing the empty desk, waiting for the doctor to arrive. The Sherriff reached down and turned off his radio.

The door behind them burst open, and a short, thin man, dressed in a white lab coat over a shirt and tie scurried into the room, taking a seat at the desk in front of them. His hair was gray, cut short and neat. He wore a thin pair of square glasses, complimenting his high forehead. Rows of wrinkles appeared on his brow as he lifted his eyebrows, smiled, and greeted his unexpected guests.

"I am so sorry to keep you waiting. My assistant tried her best to move my appointments to meet with you as soon as possible." He stated, wiping down his lab coat, obviously nervous.

"Thank you Doctor Sandbar for seeing us on such notice. We apologize for the abruptness of us showing up here unannounced." The Sherriff said, waiting for the doctor to reply. The small man simply nodded quickly. Sherriff Smith continued, gesturing to Blue Jaye.

"This is Agent Jaye. She has been assigned to assist in a case we have been working on." The Sherriff stated.

"Case? Like a police investigation?" The doctor asked as his natural intuition kicked in.

"A murder. Happened last night in town." The Sherriff stated, pausing again to wait for the doctor's reply.

"A murder?" The doctor replied, genuinely shocked. "And you are here talking to me why? Am I in danger?" He asked, leaning forward toward the Sherriff and Blue Jaye.

"No, we don't think so." Blue Jaye said, inserting herself into the conversation for the first time. "However, we did find evidence that the killer might have interest in your colleague Doctor Branson, and his upcoming lecture on genomic sequencing.

"Doctor Branson's work? What would that have to do with a murder?" Doctor Sandbar replied. His face was now twisted a bit in confusion.

"We're not sure. That's why we're here." The Sherriff answered. "Your assistant told us Doctor Branson was out of town but that you two had worked closely together on the project that he would be discussing in his presentation. Is that correct?"

"Yes, I have been helping him with his sequencing project. He was due to fly back from Detroit this evening so we could prep tomorrow." The doctor looked back and forth between the Sherriff and Blue Jaye after replying hastily.

"So he was out of town last night?" Blue Jaye asked.

"Yes. He has been out of town since last week. At an annual conference." The doctor stated shortly. His mannerisms were getting more annoyed. It was clear he was unhappy with the lack of information he was being given.

"Please, Doctor Sandbar." Blue Jaye stated sympathetically. "We apologize again for our abruptness. With the nature of the case, you must understand that we are not able to share any specific details. I want to assure you that we are not treating Doctor Branson as a suspect. But we are concerned that he might be a possible target. Do you know, or can you think of any reason why Doctor Branson or your work could be considered a threat?"

"Not at all. This is all just such a shock." The annoyance was gone from the doctor's face, replaced now by utter bewilderment.

"Doctor? Can you let us know a little more on your work with Doctor Branson?" Sherriff Smith interjected, trying to shift gears.

"Of course. Do know anything about genetic sequencing?" Doctor Sandbar asked, happy for the change in topic. The Sherriff shook his head and turned to Blue Jaye.

"It's the study of mapping the human genome correct?" Blue Jaye replied.

"Yes, in a sense. DNA is like a manual, with all the instructions to develop and direct nearly every living organism. Like these money trees, DNA molecules are made up of twisting strands."

"The double helix." The Sherriff stated.

"Exactly." The doctor answered.

Sherriff Smith smiled proudly at Blue Jaye. The doctor continued.

"Each strand of DNA is built of chemical units called nucleotides. These nucleotides are identified by a single letter, which ultimately makes up the genetic alphabet." He paused, making sure the Sherriff and Agent Jaye were following his train of thought. They both nodded for him to go on.

"Genes, with assistance from enzymes, use this alphabet to create proteins, which make up our organs and tissues. If a cell or the sequence is mutated in any way, it can create abnormal proteins that could lead to cancer for example. Genetic sequencing is simply determining the exact order of the bases in a strand of DNA. This will help us understand how to better handle, prevent, and cure these abnormalities. Genetic based research is already allowing us to improve our therapeutic strategies and evidence-based approaches." The doctor said, finishing his high level overview.

"So, where does cloning come in? Like with the sheep?" The Sherriff asked, flaunting his limited knowledge of the science. The doctor laughed loudly before covering his mouth in embarrassment.

"Sorry. Yes, you mean Dolly the sheep. This is in regards to parthenogenesis, or the reproduction of an organism without its mate." He chuckled before continuing. "Dolly was successfully cloned in 1996 and lived till 2003. A success, but these successes take an immense amount of research. In fact, it took over 400 attempts before Dolly was successfully cloned. Cloning per se, has been more effective, and has had the greatest impact on human society, in regards to horticulture." He finished, smiling before crossing his arms gently over his desk.

"And Doctor Branson was going to speak on your work together on genetic sequencing?" Blue Jaye asked.

"Yes, of course. But so far, we are just in our second year of PDSA cycles and while our run charts have shown a few trend lines, we have nothing concrete as of yet." The doctor stated.

The Sherriff's brain was strained and he didn't inquire as to the acronyms or charts the doctor was referring to. It was obvious that the Doctor had no idea why the killer would be interested in their work. He decided to change the line of questioning.

"You said that Doctor Branson will be back in town tonight. Is he due in the office tomorrow?" The Sherriff questioned.

"Yes." Doctor Sandbar said, booting up his computer. "We have a meeting scheduled here in my office at ten in the morning."

"Good. We'll be in touch." The Sherriff stated as he and Blue Jaye got up to leave.

Just then, the door opened as the doctor's assistant came in. She was in her early forties with a plain black dress over her knees and a flower printed silken blouse. Her face was flustered, and she held a yellow pad of paper and a pen in her hands.

"So sorry for the interruption." She apologized, turning to the Sherriff. "Sherriff Smith. Deputy Sampson has been trying to get in touch with you. He said it is urgent and to contact him right away." She looked at everyone in the room who now shared her look of concern.

"Thank you." The Sherriff said as he turned to Doctor Sandbar. "And thank you for your time. I will be in touch with you and Doctor Branson tomorrow." He said, nodding to Blue Jaye as they walked to the doorway.

"Oh and Sherriff." The doctor's assistant said as they were preparing to leave. "I wanted to thank you and your Deputy again for all your help last year with the Hastings tragedy." She said, folding her arms softly in front of her dress. A somber silence encapsulated the room.

"Yes, well, Deputy Sampson said that you and the rest of the staff here were very helpful accommodating him and our officers. Thank you again." The Sherriff said, resting a hand on her shoulder before leaving.

As they walked down the hall, Blue Jaye walked to the Sherriff whispering to him. "The Hastings tragedy?"

"Emily Hasting." The Sherriff replied. "She was the student who committed suicide last year before the holiday break. Remember?" Blue Jaye nodded. The Sherriff went on. "I completely forgot she worked here for her work study. She was a biology student, in addition to being a track star. Such a shock." He said as he turned on his radio and called for Deputy Sampson.

Their pace quickened as Sampson came over the static, shouting for them to high tail it to Century Field.

Chapter 9

The red Jeep Wrangler skidded to a sideways stop in front of the main entrance of Century Field. At least five police cruisers, two ambulances, and three fire trucks were parked around the gates. The officers has set up a semi-circle of A-frame barricades and three policemen were trying to keep a growing group of press at bay.

Sherriff Smith and Agent Blue Jaye got out of the jeep, ignoring the shouts and questions coming from the throng of reporters. Walking through the gate and ducking under police tape, they started toward a group of officers standing around a body on the ground.

If Blue Jaye hadn't experienced the first crime scene she would have most definitely gasped at the sight of these victims. The one closest to them was lying on his side, his skull cracked above the temple. The skin from the top of his forehead to the back of his scalp had been removed. The coroner had yet to arrive and the victim's eyes were wide and bloodshot, one slightly popped out of its socket.

"His night stick is missing." Blue Jaye noted, trying to focus on anything but the guard's head. The Sherriff grunted in agreement, getting a closer look at the wounds on the body.

"Probably used it to kill the guard. His tazer, Leatherman, and radio are still attached to his belt." The Sherriff added.

"Are there any other items the guards are issued?" Blue Jaye asked quietly as she continued to examine the crime scene.

"Good question. I will have Sampson check it out." The Sherriff said, rising to his feet, looking over to the second body.

Blue Jaye stood up and followed him. This victim was lying on his stomach. His head was turned to one side with his lower jaw dangling awkwardly on the pavement. His right leg was twisted outward at a ninety-degree angle at the knee. Like the previous two murders, his scalp was also removed. The wrinkles around his eyes were strained, and a dry, salty trail of tears ran down his cheek.

"My God." The Sherriff realized. "He was also scalped alive." He stated, standing up with a dazed look on his face.

Ignoring the primary wounds, Blue Jaye knelt down to inspect the body.

"This one has his night stick, but his tazer, Leatherman, and radio are gone. What can the killer do with the radio?" She asked.

"Not much." The Sherriff replied, trying to focus. "They are a simple brand. The batteries will need to be recharged in a couple hours anyways." He said, shaking his head.

"Any cameras?" Blue Jaye continued to question.

"No. In the offseason, other than the two guards, this place is pretty much empty. The occasional trespasser or kids trying to party. No need for any surveillance really." The Sherriff replied.

"So, we have two murder scenes, same M.O., same killer, what else?" Blue Jaye asked, her journalistic instincts starting to kick in. The Sherriff sighed, shaking his head.

"The killer is extremely efficient, brutal, and strong. He cracked the first guard's head open and knocked the other's jaw off with apparently one blow. We also know he's armed with a half pair of scissors, a night stick, tazer, and Leatherman. Deadly tools to someone who seemingly knows how to use them." The Sherriff added, trying to think of any other connections.

"The matter of the killings seems the same too." Blue Jaye added. "While ultra-violent, they seem to have happened because the killer was taken by surprise."

"You mean self-defense?" The Sherriff inquired.

"More like self-preservation. Like an animal, or something. An instinct that just sort of kicks in. The severity seems random." Blue Jaye said.

"It all seems random." The Sherriff stated clearly frustrated and emotional. "A guard at the university library and now two more at the ballpark during the offseason. How are they related? What is the possible connection?"

"I don't know." Blue Jaye said, trailing off. After a few moments, she reached into her tactical vest at removed her phone.

"Who are you calling?" The Sherriff asked.

"My boss." Blue Jaye replied with a hopeful smile.

Chapter 10

Washington DC

The cloudless blue sky still held firm as the afternoon hours churned on. General Beachhead had finished his first lap along the national mall past the towering statue of Ulysses S. Grant. On horseback, the civil war general sat, staring down as he trudged by. The cherry blossoms were nearing full bloom. A gift from the Emperor of Japan in 1912, the trees ran along the mall's walkway, scattered among the many memorials and museums.

A group of six cadets galloped by the General, saluting as they slowed and passed. Beachhead returned the salute and gave a strained smile as he watched them charge on ahead of him. At his age, he had reserved himself to the fact that he was slow, but he had vowed to continue his daily afternoon jog as long as possible. Unfortunately, it seemed like even that small part of his life was coming to an end.

The aging General wheezed as he kicked up his stride, beckoning a second wind. One more lap to go, he repeated to himself as he mustered another surge of strength. The first of three large buildings which were the National Gallery of Art started to pass him on his right. After that, it was the Natural American History Museum before he would make his final turn by the Washington Monument.

As he bustled past the next building a growing burn started in his chest. His wheezing increased and his body temperature rose. He stumbled to a stop in front of a bench as his breaths grew long and strained. Disoriented, he rested, the world fading to black each time he blinked. Clutching the bench with both hands, he squeezed as hard as he could, focusing on his breathing, trying not to pass out.

The bulging pain in his chest finally subsided, and with each exhale, his equilibrium slowly recalibrated. Letting go of the bench with his right hand, he removed a small pill bottle from his shorts pocket. The bottle was shaking in his hand as he popped the top open. Fumbling for one of the small white pills he pushed it into his mouth and swallowed. Looking up at the clear sky, he threw his head back and took a deep breath.

"Afternoon Sir!" Another young group of cadets shouted as they nodded, saluting him as they passed. Beachhead gave a weak smile as he returned the salute.

Thank God they didn't see, he thought to himself as he put the bottle back into his pocket and retrieved his phone. His doctor had informed him of the issues with his heart last year. He still hadn't shared the information with General Spirit. If he did, he knew he would be forced to retire.

Retirement was even scarier to him than his health issues. The only thing Beachhead knew was being a Joe. Working behind a desk wasn't the greatest, but it was still something. If only I had one more shot in the field, he thought to himself.

"Then I could retire." He whispered, finishing his thought aloud.

Looking down at his phone he saw another alert from Agent Cricket, who was stationed at the underground base outside Lakeside, Vermont. It read, Has Blue Jaye checked in? A new cave opened up here last night. Waiting for confirmation to investigate.

"Christ, where the hell is she?" Beachhead spat to himself as he waved and smiled at a mother walking by pushing a stroller.

Beachhead was recently placed in charge of the new team located in Lakeside, Vermont. Five years ago, they had uncovered a previously vacated Cobra bunker system built under an abandoned radar station. Blue Jaye and her team had been responsible for neutralizing the latest Cobra threats in the area and had been assigned to explore the tunnel systems.

Though last night, General Spirit had called him at home and alerted him of another possible threat in the area. He had Blue Jaye team up with the local Sherriff, an off-again-on-again teammate, to lead the primary investigation. Blue Jaye was brilliant, and her instincts were second to none, but she was a journalist by trade, which meant that while she could sniff out a trail of evidence with the best of them, she was deeply over absorbed in her work. She was horrible about checking in, and sometimes he felt like her over-stressed, eccentric newspaper editor, waiting at the stroke of midnight for her to call before they had to go to press.

Plus, even in addition to the recent case, Jaye had a team to lead. Based on Agent Cricket's last messages, it didn't appear she had been in contact with her. Just as he was about to call and reprimand her, his phone began to buzz. The call sign that came across his phone told him it was Blue Jaye. After one last deep breath, he swiped his finger across the screen.

"Where the hell have you been?" He began before she could even speak.

"Sorry Sir. It has been a whirlwind here. There have been three homicides here within hours. Looks like we have an active killer. Armed and resourceful. Limited, to no evidence. Also, the killer seems to be highly trained, as well as…vicious…" Blue Jaye rambled before trailing off at the end.

"Vicious?" Beachhead asked. The anger had subsided based on the information that she provided. Plus, he was a little spooked at the sound of her voice when she tapered off. "What do you mean?"

"He scalps his victims." Blue Jaye said, pausing for a moment. "At least two of them he scalped alive."

"Holy Mother of God." Beachhead stated. The quick synopsis highlighted not only that a serial killer was on the loose in Lakeside, but after Spirit's call the previous night, in the back of his mind he knew it was Cobra. It had to be. "What else have you found?" He asked.

"Frustratingly nothing. At least not until he strikes again. The crime scenes have nothing in common. So far we are at a loss." She stated.

From her voice, Beachhead knew she was telling the truth. Jesus, if Blue Jaye's instincts can't find a trail for now, how many more will die before she does, he thought to himself. Then, he remembered the text from Agent Cricket. She had said a new series of tunnels had revealed himself right before these killings. Could they be connected?

"Have you checked in with Cricket? She has been trying to get in touch with you all day." Beachhead said, changing the subject.

"No, sorry Sir. It has just been crazy here with everything going on." She replied.

"That's no excuse." He retorted. "You are in charge of the team first, regardless of your additional orders. Cricket has confirmed they have uncovered a new series of tunnels in the underground bunkers. Don't you think the timing compared to everything else is a bit suspicious?"

"Could be. It could also be a coincidence. I'll make sure to check in with Cricket right after I get off the call with you." Blue Jaye said humbly.

"Excellent. I'm just trying to make sure you are covering all your bases. You more than anyone know how quickly things can get out of control up there." He stated reassuringly.

"Yes Sir, I do." She said.

"And Blue Jaye. In all my years of being a Joe, I can tell you wholeheartedly, there are no coincidences." Beachhead stated before ending the call.

Sitting for the next few moments, Beachhead watched the cherry blossom petals flutter delicately in the calm breeze. Another group of runners past him, saluting. As he returned the salute, he thought back on his past and current life, now in its final years. Thinking on the call with Blue Jaye, if the killings and the uncovered tunnels were connected, it could be bigger than they're thinking. It could be bigger than I'm thinking, he reflected to himself. Grabbing his phone, he swiped to his contacts and pressed the button for his assistant.

"Sir?" Came a sterile voice over the other line.

"I need a flight. Wings up in thirty." He stated.

"Destination?" Came the only reply.

"Lakeside, Vermont." Beachhead said before ending the call.

He rose from the bench and continued his jog. However, a new strength rose in his breaths as he increased his pace as he began to mentally prepare for his true final lap.

Chapter 11

Elise Jensen, aka Communications Officer Cricket, sat in front of her console hundreds of feet underground an abandoned radar station outside of Lakeside, Vermont. Three large monitors stared back at her. She wore basic olive pants and a button down shirt. Her legs were secured in braces as her fingerless gloves danced on the keyboard. The center screen displayed a live feed from a stationary camera filming a large black hole in the middle of an underground cave. On the monitor to her left was Agent Blue Jaye. Sherriff Smith occupied the screen to her right. Both were just finishing their summary of the recent murders. As shocking and fascinating the news, Cricket's eyes stayed fixated on the center console, and the large black hole.

"What do you need from me?" Cricket asked Blue Jaye, typing away at her keyboard.

"Officer Sampson will be running prints taken from the desk at the university library. I told him to check in with you so you can help him out." Jaye responded.

"No problem. I will make sure to send them down to Mainframe at M.I.T. He will get Sampson a list within hours." Cricket said.

Cricket looked at the Sherriff and Blue Jaye. Both seemed uneasy and unsure. The uncertainty of Blue Jaye gave her the sudden chills. They had been best friends since college and there were very few things that could get Jaye riled up. Cricket swallowed deeply before interjecting.

"Let me know if you need anything else. We are just continuing surveying the bunker and tunnel systems. Did Beachhead let you know that we found something?" Cricket asked, staring again at the cave on the center monitor.

"Yes, he said you found a new tunnel system?" Blue Jaye asked, cocking her head and brushing her blue hair back behind her ears.

"Not exactly. We found a hole." Cricket said, her fingers furiously typing. "I am sending you the live feed now."

Blue Jaye and the Sherriff turned their attention to the image of the hole. A small circle of lights had been set up around the opening.

"Do you know what's down there?" The Sherriff asked.

"No. It opened up last night. I checked the recent seismic activity and there was a series of tremors in the area." Cricket said, sending a few charts and seismographs their way.

"Tremors?" The Sherriff inquired curiously.

"Nothing that you would really feel on the surface. Maybe knock a picture off the wall if you lived near the epicenter. But it was up north, in a fairly remote location. They are common, and can open up new caves, holes and caverns below ground." Cricket stated.

"So this is normal?" Blue Jaye asked, propping up an eyebrow.

"Yes." Cricket hesitatingly replied. "And no. I mean, when things tend to happen out of the blue around here, they aren't always normal, right?"

"Good point." The Sherriff stated.

"The timing is curious. Do you want to investigate?" Blue Jaye asked.

"Yes, we do." Cricket responded. "I can get Zee and Oakley prepped and ready within the hour." Cricket said, staring at the image of her friend and leader.

"Go for it. But be careful. We all know some of the stuff we have found down in those caves." Blue Jaye replied before ending the transmission.

Chapter 12

The young girl who called herself Emily sat on a bench, looking out onto the lake. The waves gently crashed along the timber-cribbed stone breakwater. At the end of the concrete barrier was a modest wooden lighthouse. The sun had begun its descent and the golden sky began to glow in hues of light orange and pink.

The girl followed a flock of geese, flying low across the water crests, rising into the deep silhouette of the setting sun. Closing her eyes, she let the heat warm her face and shoulders, breathing softly. Raising her head, she opened her eyes, but the lake had disappeared

Instead of the rhythmic flow of water, high savannah grass swayed in the hot breeze. The same setting sun was now behind an impressive acacia tree. Its massive trunk rose out of the radiating earth opening up into an umbrella of leaves and whistling thorns. Black-headed weavers chirped in the branches, building a hanging nest.

Emily looked down at her arms which were now bare and blackened from the African sun. Golden oversized bracelets hung from her right wrist which gripped an iron tipped assegai spear. Her jacket and pants had been replaced with a cardinal Massai Shuka.

A soft hooting began as two lions bobbed the tops of their heads and shoulders out from the tips of swaying grass. Turning her head, she saw a group of twelve Massai warriors, crouch below the savannah, imitating the movements of the lions. A tepid breeze brushed the grassland in front of her. Then, her memory was interrupted by a distant but familiar aroma.

Coffee. The word, the smell, the taste came back so quickly it was overwhelming. A group of students were walking in front of her, enjoying the day, drinking some from paper cups. The roasted floral tones, accented by acidic nuances grasped her back to reality. Coming out of her trance, she looked at the group and froze. One of the boys was wearing an olive letterman jacket with the letters LAKESIDE stitched on the front. It was the same jacket the boy wore in her memories.

Examining this boy's face, she determined it wasn't him, and ducked her head as the group walked by. Watching as they passed, she saw more letters stitched onto the back of the boy's jacket which read, RUGBY. Another wave of memories rushed into her head and she remembered herself sitting on a small set of metal bleachers. In this memory, she was wearing his blue jacket. Out on the field were a group of boys, huddled together, interlocking shoulders and pushing down the field step-by-step.

Emily shook the memory off and continued to watch the group until they were at least fifty yards away. They stopped, and a bunch of them exchanged hugs before dispersing in multiple directions. Never taking her eye of the boy in the rugby jacket, Emily stood up and followed him in silent pursuit.

Chapter 13

Zanya, ex-Cobra and Dreadnok General, better known to her new team as Zee, walked down the abandoned mine shaft, hundreds of feet under the earth. Her headlamp shined up at the reinforced steel beams above her. Her hair was woven into lines of tight braids and she wore a leather biker jacket with tactical pants and boots. It had been two years since she decided to switch sides and become a Joe.

While she would have considered it an unthinkable act at the time, it was her best option. She had just lost her arm in a motorcycle crash and General Spirit had allowed her to reunite with her son, whom she had thought was dead. Deep down, she also understood it was not just her best play, it was her only play. But so far, it had been one of the best decisions of her life.

Spirit had come through with his promise, and every time they had some R&R, she was allowed to visit her son at the house he was staying off the northeast coast. Her left arm was replaced with a synthetic state-of-the art prosthetic, providing her full capacity of all her previous abilities. In addition to being reunited with her son, she enjoyed working with Blue Jaye, Cricket, and Oakley, though she would never tell that to their faces. They truly cared for each other, and her. It was difficult to understand at first, but after a couple of years, some of it was wearing off on her.

"You're almost there." Cricket said over her earpiece.

"Zee, we're almost at the hole." Oakley shouted loudly behind Zanya in her classic Texas drawl.

"I heard. I've got my earpiece turned on too." Zanya replied, not looking back at Oakley, who was right on her heels.

"Gotcha partner. Just excited is all." Oakley whispered.

Agent Oakley was the daughter of the late Wild Bill. She joined the ranks by completing the famed Gauntlet training run with Agent Cricket. Just like her old man, she dressed the part. Round brimmed Stetson hat, fringe suede leather jacket, canvas pants and a pair of worn chestnut boots. Her father's pearl handled colts hung off of each thigh, tied around her waist with an aged, fully loaded cartridge belt.

Wild, impulsive, and a heavy drinker, Oakley and Zanya got along well. It was only when Oakley was annoying her she was at her worst. She knew it too, which made it all the terrible.

"What do you think we'll find down the pit? Bodies? Gold? Maybe a few cases of rare whiskey?" Oakley joked as they came upon the circle of lights illuminating the entrance to the cave.

"Maybe it's full of bats." Cricket suggested.

"I'll take the whiskey or gold thank you very much." Zanya said as she and Oakley stood at the mouth of the void.

"Whiskey works for me." Oakley agreed, grabbing a flashlight and shining it in the hole. At the end of the beam was nothing but black.

Zanya gave a short laugh before removing her pack and igniting two handheld LED lamps. She dropped them into the abyss and watched as they fell, shrinking to a couple of tiny white dots. The faint echo of them hitting the bottom reverberated up out of the hole.

"At least we know there's a bottom." Oakley joked tipping her hat.

"From the time the lights fell to when they hit the ground, I've calculated it's about a 125 foot drop. You should have just enough rope to propel down. I'm going to activate your eye pieces now so your night vision will trigger." Cricket said over the static in their earpieces.

The night vision activated as Zanya and Oakley fitted themselves with rappelling gear. After bolting a series of pulleys into the tunnel wall, they carefully positioned themselves on the edge of the hole. Slowly, they lowered themselves down.

As they descended, their eye pieces displayed the interior of the cavern. The walls were made of natural rock, with a series of stalactites dripping down. The rappel was uneventful as Zanya and Oakley reached the stone floor.

"Looks pretty natural to me." Zanya said, rising the light around her.

"Nothing but more rock." Stated a disappointed Oakley.

"The recent seismic activity probably just jarred loose part of the cave ceiling." Cricket said, also masking a bit of disappointment.

Zanya looked around, her night vision scanning the interior of the cave. After a few moments of silence, she thought she heard the sound of running water.

"Well partner." Oakley said, breaking the silence. "I guess the only whisky we're gonna drink is back up." She said, grabbing her rope and harness.

"Wait." Zanya said, cutting her off. "Do you hear that? That sounds like running water."

Both Zanya and Oakley strained to hear in the darkened silence. An audio readout flashed from their eye pieces.

"You're right. The audio scan is picking it up too." Cricket said.

Zanya and Oakley shone their lights in front of them and walked further into the cave. Soon, the bubbling of flowing water was unmistakable. As they continued, the stone floor changed to pebbles and then to a soft sand. Soon, they were both standing on the shores of an underground river.

"Amazing." Zanya said looking upward. The interior ceiling had to be at least one hundred feet high.

"Check this out. What do ya make of this?" Oakley asked, breaking Zanya's train of thought.

Walking over, Zanya saw Oakley was hunched over, shining her hand light down on a dead, half-eaten fish. Its head and tail were intact, but its guts had been shredded, its flaky white flesh exposed. Zanya walked past Oakley a few steps and raised her lamp, revealing at least twenty additional carcasses.

"What the hell?" Zanya whispered to herself aloud.

Then, they heard it. Low, guttural. A growl.

"What was that?" Cricket asked. Even she had heard it over their earpieces.

Quickly, their eye pieces lit up and began to scan the darkness in front of them. Another growl. This one rose into a higher pitched screech at the end, fading like a creaky door. The scan continued, finally honing in on a large object lurking toward them. Oakley threw her light toward it as she broke leather on her right sidearm, grasping the handle of her Colt.

The light landed with a fluttering clatter on the pebbled ground. A deafening howl echoed high into the abyss, temporarily shorting out their audio connection with Cricket. As the roar dissipated, the form inched closer to the light.

Out of the shadow, the beast's head emerged. Its eyes glowed green as it opened its jaws. A powerful paw emerged, and a set of claws exposed, digging into the dirt. The broad shoulders of the mountain lion flexed as it let out another roar. Implanted on the back of its neck was a series of technical switches, chips, lights, and buttons. A red blinking began from the top of the big cat's head as it lowered its frame, ready to pounce.

"Oh my God. It survived." Cricket stated as she reconnected their audio.

"What survived? That is a bona fide cougar. What the hell is that on top of its head?" Oakley asked, drawing both her guns and taking a step forward.

"That's B.A.T. technology." Zanya replied bluntly. She grabbed her earpiece with her hand. "Do you know what that thing can do?" She asked Cricket.

"Trust me, I know…" Cricket replied. Running another scan, she quickly assessed the lion, running a full biometric diagnostic. "It's sick. Based on its biometrics, it should be dead. That B.A.T. tech is probably keeping it alive."

"Then if we destroy the B.A.T. tech, we can take it out? No problem." Oakley asked, spinning the cylinder of one of her guns.

"Wait!" Cricket shouted. Zanya and Oakley paused.

"Wait for what?" Zanya asked, watching as the lion took another step toward them.

"Zanya, your watch. Raise it up." Cricket said as Zanya looked down at her tactical watch.

The face of the watch was blinking green. The flashing intensified until the face detached itself and started floating in the air.

"I'm gonna fly this over the cat. Oakley, when it is directly over its head, I'll drop a stun charge. Do you think you can hit it?" Cricket asked.

"No problem." Oakley said confidently with another spin of her Colt's cylinder.

"Ok, on the count of three." Cricket said.

But before she could start the countdown, the Catamount pounced. Zanya pushed Oakley out of the way just in time as the cat leaped between them. Its back hips slammed against Oakley, spinning her crashing onto the rocks. Zanya twisted around and scurried back on her heels, getting up on her feet. Looking down, she could see the face of the watch lying on the ground. It was still blinking.

"I've lost control of the watch's drone capabilities." Cricket rambled off fanatically.

"No time." Stated Zanya as she grabbed the face of the watch. "Oakley, heads up!" She shouted as she hurled the watch toward the cat.

The cat followed the blinking light and leapt at it, lashing out a clawed paw. The watch piece deflected off the beast above its head. Oakley gripped her Colt tightly and fired as the cat lunged forward. The bullet hit the watch, setting a voltaic trap. With a surge of power and sparks, the cat dropped on its side.

Zanya and Oakley waited a few moments before cautiously moving toward the lion. Cricket ran another biometric scan as they stared down at the now visibly emancipated animal. The tech implanted on the top of its head sputtered and fizzled. However, its chest still rose and fell.

"It's alive." Cricket said. "Should be out for a bit without the full functionality of its tech. We can bring it up soon."

"Bring it up where?" Oakley asked.

"Up her. To rehabilitate. It's still an animal." Cricket stated.

Zanya ignored the two as they continued to argue. What was that thing doing down here? She thought to herself. Looking down the underground river, she suspected that it eventually led out into the lake.

"Why would the lion stay here?" Zanya asked herself aloud. "The B.A.T. tech?"

Oakley had stopped arguing with Cricket and was now watching Zanya as she turned and faced her, deep in thought. "Zee, what are you talking about? What about the B.A.T. tech?" Oakley asked.

"The lion. Why was it here? Why did it stay here, in conditions that almost starved it to death? It was because of the B.A.T. tech. It was programmed to stay here." Zanya stated.

"Why?" Oakley asked, looking around in the darkened cave. "What's so special about this place?

"I don't know." Zanya asked, looking high into the blackness. The night vision only went so far.

Dropping her pack, Zanya pulled out a flare gun. Popping the gun open, she loaded it before raising it high above her head and firing. The red flare shot high and far into the deep interior of the cave popping in a red sparkling mist. As the light slowly fell to the ground, they gasped as a large metal door twenty-five feet in height was revealed. A massive image was carved on the door of a towering figure with its arms and legs spread apart. A series of circles and lines surrounded its body. It looked exactly like Da Vinci's Vitruvian man. But instead of a man, it was a woman.

Chapter 14

Reston, Virginia

Communications Captain Breaker looked out the cafeteria window of the Joe's Reston, Virginia operations center. A short rolling green curved into a series of hedges before breaking out into a parking lot. Three picnic tables sat on the grass occupied by a few office workers having their lunch. A series of large cumulus clouds hovered above in the steel blue sky.

She looked down at her phone, the screen open to a local Vermont news site, reporting what they knew about the recent killings. Luckily, they were still mostly in the dark, with the Sherriff helping to mitigate the information being shared at press conferences. All the public knew at this time was a student had died on campus. Scrolling down the news page, Breaker saw a separate story about an unrelated accident at Century Field.

Putting her phone in her pocket she lifted her gaze back out the window. We won't be able to keep a lid on this for too long, she thought to herself wondering what would happen next. Related or unrelated, a few more incidents would easily cause a panic. Looking to the table to her right, Breaker picked up a bag of chips with her prosthetic hooked arm and popped one in her mouth.

"Looks like another situation up north." A deep voice stated calmly behind her.

Turning around, Breaker found herself face-to-face with her superior, General Spirit. Spirit wore a black vest over a dark blue, western style shirt with a pair of blue jeans and a large bowie knife strapped to his right thigh. A tall black cowboy hat rested on his graying head with a turquoise beaded eagle on the right. Two feathers came out of the back of the beaded medallion.

"The team seems to be on top of it. I am sure we will learn more at tonight's briefing." Breaker said, reaching out with her hooked arm, offering the bag of chips to Spirit.

"I am sure we will." Spirit said, smiling and taking a couple chips from the bag. "There has been a new development." He continued, trailing off.

It was rare for Breaker to see Spirit seemingly at a loss for words. While he stood confidently with a proud and kind smile, there was something behind his eyes that told her what was coming next would be grave.

"What do you mean? Another killing?" She asked, fearing her concerns about a panic would come true.

"No. It's something else." Spirit stated, holding up a folder.

A lump of fear started to knot in her stomach. Another murder was the worst thing she could think of. What else could have made Spirit so apprehensive? Holding out the folder in front of him, Spirit continued.

"Cricket, Oakley, and Zanya found something down in the underground bunkers." He said.

Breaker stared at the folder in his extended hand. Carefully, she took it. Slowly, she opened it and stared at the picture. At first the image didn't compute in her head. It was of a large door with an engraving of Da Vinci's Virtuvian Man. However, instead of a man, it was of a woman. As the ugly reality hit her, she gasped, quickly shuttering the folder, trying to erase the image from her mind.

"It can't be." She whispered. Spirit took a step closer and gave a sympathetic smile.

"Unfortunately it is. I had thought your father had eliminated the previous threat, but that doesn't seem to be the case now." Spirit said, looking down at the floor briefly. "There are a very few people still alive who know what this means. You and I are two of them."

"So what do you suggest? I mean, Blue Jaye and her team are not prepared for this." She stated frantically.

"No, they're not. But then again, we weren't prepared for many of the challenges we faced were we?" He asked, trying to relieve some of her stress. She looked at him, her expression revealing his tactics didn't work.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? There is a genetically synthesized killing machine on the loose! How do you think they can prepare for something like this?" She asked, trying to remain as professional as she could.

"That is why we need to help them. Beachhead is already on his way up to meet them. I want you to join him." Spirit stated, calm again.

"Me? Why me? Why not send someone with more combat experience, like Tommy, or Jinx?" She asked, not sure why Spirit would need the Captain of Communications in the field.

"Tommy and Jinx are abroad on another mission." Spirit said before taking a deep breath. "And I have to head out of country as well."

"Why? Where are you going?" Breaker asked, her stress reaching a totally new level.

"Like I said before, there are only a few people who know what that image means." Spirit said, nodding at the folder in Breaker's hand. "I have to find the rest of them. They might have the information we need to stop whoever, or whatever is killing these people."

Breaker looked down and saw the folder shaking in her hands. A few moments ago, she was rightly concerned over the recent murders up in Lakeside, but now, she felt like she was dealing with an impossible situation. Raising her head, she saw that Spirit now had something else in his hands. It was a long black jewelry case.

"With me gone for a bit, I'm going to need to ensure I have my best running the show." He said, opening the case.

Breaker's eyes went wide as she saw two polished stars looking back up at her.

"Don't worry General Breaker." Spirit said, handing her the case. "We beat the first Serpentor, and we're going to beat this one too."

Chapter 15

Christopher Sabel, co-captain of the Lakeside University Rugby team crossed the road to the large three-story brick Italianate where he and the rest of the team lived. Boxed eaves decorated the entire building with a shouldered round cupola rising from the center of the roof. A large Palladian style window looked out above a high arching front door. The renovated group home contained fourteen beds, three baths, a fireplace, and a large wooden porch which extended from the west end of the house.

Walking up the front steps, two cats, one calico, the other black, hopped around his legs to greet him, purring and rubbing their heads around his ankles. Stopping to quickly pet the pair, Chris entered the foyer into the main living room. A large L-shaped couch was occupied by a couple of his teammates and friends. A large flat-screen TV was hung above a shuttered fireplace. Four of them were immersed in a racing game, while the others looked on. A stout, broad-chested boy saw Chris standing in the open doorway.

"What's up Chris? You want in on next race?" He asked, his eyes now fixed on the TV.

"Maybe later. I've got to catch up on a few chapters for Professor Ben's English lit class." Chris said with a smile and nod.

"Sounds good man." The boy replied without looking up from the game.

Chris ran up the twisted flight of stairs through a dorm hall and up a short wooden ladder to his room which occupied the cupola at the top of the house. Busting through the door, he threw his rugby jacket on the chair and sat at a small desk, pulling out a worn paperback book. After reading a few pages, he raised his head and arms, yawning and stretching at the same time.

His eyes landed on his bed and saw a small box of pictures, some scattered across his sheets. Getting up, he walked over and sat on the down comforter and picked up one of the photos. It was of him and his former girlfriend Emily. The image was of them hugging on top of Sugar Peak Mountain after a weekend hike. His eyes started to water.

For reasons he will never know, she overdosed on drugs one night last December. In over the year-and-a-half they were dating, he never saw her take any drugs. Sure, they would have a bunch too many beers at a party, but she was a biology major, and one of the best track stars the university had ever seen. There was just no reason for her to kill herself. She had big plans, they had big plans.

Packing up the photos in the box, Chris tried his best from letting his emotions take over him. The first days and weeks after her death, he had spent most of the days in his bed, looking at the pictures. After the months churned on, he realized putting the pictures away was the first step in processing what had happened so he could start to move on.

Each day after that it was another small step. Taking a shower, getting dressed, eating a meal. Slowly, and with help of his family, friends, and an on-campus therapist, his life started to get back to a new normal he could deal with. The beginning of the spring semester was difficult, but as the days went on, and the assignments piled up, life became manageable again.

Sliding the box under his bed, he promised himself he would not bring it out again. Cocking his head, he tried to remember why he had taken it out in the first place. Racking his brain, he couldn't think of when he did. Had he done it unconsciously? With everything he had gone through, Chris realized it could have been possible, but he was getting better, and he had never taken the pictures out without realizing before. Standing up, he looked around the room, trying to see if anything else was out of place. Everything was just as he left it when he went to class earlier in the day.

Then, he heard a rustle coming from his closet. The door was open a few inches, and he listened intently. Again, he heard a light scratching. Carefully walking toward the door, he reached out with his left hand and opened it wide.

"Holy shit!" He exclaimed, seeing his dead girlfriend Emily alive and crouching down in his closet.

Stumbling over a pair of rugby cleats, he fell on the floor, back pedaling until he reached his bed frame. Emily ran over to him and kneeled down, pressing her hand over his mouth and raising her index finger to her lips.

"I know, I know. But it's me. Please Chris. It's me." Emily said quietly over and over.

Chris's eyes were wide, but after a long few minutes, his breathing started to slow as he began to process what was happening. Emily remained kneeling, smiling at him. After another minute, she lowered her hand from his face.

"You're alive." Chris stated, even though it sounded more like a question. Emily nodded. "What happened? They said that you overdosed on drugs. I was at your funeral." He said, his breaths beginning to escalate once more.

"I know it's confusing. Trust me, I have only been able to remember pieces since I woke up, but the memories that have come back brought me to you." She said, grabbing Chris's hand tenderly as she continued to smile.

"Since you woke up? What happened to you?" Chris asked. Emily shook her head.

"I'm not entirely sure. I lost a lot of memory with whatever happened." She paused, looking down at the floor. "I also gained something. I can't explain it. It comes and goes. The only thing I can think of, is I was part of an experiment or test or something."

"A test? Like with Doctor Branson?" Chris asked.

At the sound of the doctor's name, Emily grabbed both his shoulders. Her grip made him wince. He knew she was fit, but he never knew she was this strong. Looking in her eyes, they seemed distant, far away. Grimacing in pain, he grunted, getting her attention. Suddenly, her pupils calmed and she relaxed his grip.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just I've been getting hit with these waves of memories and emotions. I've almost passed out a few times." She shook her head and smiled at him again. "Doctor Branson? I know him?" She asked. Chris looked at her curiously.

"Yes. He was, is, your biology professor. You had spoken with him recently about him mentoring your graduate program. Do you remember?" He asked, searching for her reaction.

"I think I do." Do you know where his office is?" She asked. Chris looked at her apprehensively.

"Probably in the science building. But that's closed for the night. Though he does live a few streets over on Peru Street." Chris replied.

Again, he saw her eyes steer off into a deep memory. She wasn't grabbing his shoulders anymore, so he remained silent. Soon, she seemed to come out of her trance.

"Ok, thank you. I'm gonna head out for a bit. I have to speak with Doctor Branson. When I get back, we might need to spend the night somewhere else, is that ok?" She asked. Her face was a mix of concern and determination.

"Sure, we can go to my friend Patrick's. I can let him know we are crashing there tonight." Chris stated.

He was a whole mix of emotions right now and his brain was having a hard time understanding why his dead girlfriend was alive and talking, but then again, he didn't care. His girlfriend was alive, and there was plenty of time for her to explain what was happening. Her memory seemed to be coming back so hopefully, soon, she would be back to her old self. Plus, when she said she wanted to spend the night with him, he couldn't help from getting excited. He looked at her and smiled, grabbing her hand.

"Thank you Chris. I won't be long." She said, before wrapping her arms around him.

Again, his anxiety and suspicions faded away as he felt her warm breath on his neck. Returning the embrace, he burrowed his face down into her shoulder.

"I missed you so much Emily." He said softly.

"I missed you too." She replied. But her eyes were far off again, glazed, thinking of what she would do next.

Chapter 16

Hundreds of feet below the abandoned radar station in Lakeside, Vermont, Beachhead stood over a stainless steel table, looking in awe at the mountain lion, lying unconscious on its side. Its fur was matted and while still a powerful animal, its skin hugged tight to its rib cage, atrophied from malnourishment. Its jaws were open as it breathed deep and slow. Beachhead turned to Cricket, Blue Jaye, Oakley, and Zanya who were observing the cat with him in silence.

"How long do you think it has been down in the caves?" He asked, leaning in to look at the damaged B.A.T. technology implanted in the back of its skull.

"At least five years." Blue Jaye responded. "There were two cats originally. Spirit killed one of them…the one that attacked Cricket."

Cricket looked down at her legs wrapped in metal braces. Shaking it off, she maneuvered with her crutches closer to the cat.

"What was it doing down there?" Beachhead asked.

Cricket held out a long metal rod and waved it over the cat's head. Then, she brought up an app on her phone.

"I've been working with Zee to try and decrypt the tech. It was pretty damaged after we neutralized the lion, but from what I was able to find, it looks like it was programmed to protect the door." Cricket stated nodding at Zanya.

Beachhead walked to the end of the table where an open file lay with photos of the metal door. He picked one up and stared at it silently. Cricket decided to continue.

"We have put together that five years ago when part of the cave system was destroyed, the B.A.T. tech's primary objective shifted. It survived partly by eating fish it hunted from the underground river, but primarily from the tech in its head." Cricket concluded.

Beachhead put the photo back on the table and sighed looking at the cat.

"Now that it has been neutralized, will it die without the tech fully functioning?" Beachhead asked.

"Yes." Cricket replied before pausing a moment. "Unless I intervene." She stated.

Now, Blue Jaye walked up next to Cricket and put a hand on her shoulder.

"What do you mean if you intervene?" Blue Jaye asked cautiously.

"I mean I can reprogram it." Cricket said. Beachhead remained silent, staring at the two.

"Reprogram it to do what?" Blue Jaye asked, her voice getting a little frenzied.

"To be on our side." Cricket answered.

"It will never be on our side." Zanya interrupted. "If that thing was programmed by Cobra. How can we trust it?" She stated, now walking up to the table.

"Speak for yourself and your past allegiances." Oakley joked. Zanya shot her a sideways glare. Beachhead gave a chuckle.

"Ok, ok." Beachhead stated, trying to get the conversation back on track. He looked at Cricket. "Cricket, you got the green light from me. And as blunt as Oakley put it, she's right. Zanya here, and also Tommy are evidence that people, and programming can change." He paused, looking around to a varying degree of acceptance from the team. He continued.

"Now, before I provide my report, Blue Jaye, please, tell us what you and the Sherriff have uncovered?" Beachhead asked.

Relaying every detail so far, Blue Jaye recounted her observations from both crime scenes, as well as her visit to the genetics department. The Sherriff had gotten a list of prints and was trying to identify any connections or correlations. Unfortunately, she had nothing else to update in the way of the killer's identity or motives.

Beachhead and the rest of the team listened intently, nodding every now and then among grimaces from the gory details of the killings. When she had concluded, he thanked her and grabbed the photo from the table. Walking over to a large bulletin board, he tacked up the picture. The team slowly followed him to the board.

"What I'm about to tell you all is highly confidential. It might not seem like it, but there is a clear connection between this door and your killer." He stated, pointing at the picture. "This image is a symbol of project Serpentor." He paused to see if anyone recognized the name. Everyone's face remained blank.

"Project Serpentor was a Cobra operation which took place in the summer of 1986. Doctor Mindbender, Destro, and the Baroness, combined the DNA of some of the world's greatest leaders, including Julius Caesar, Napoleon, Attila the Hun, Alexander the Great, Hannibal, and Genghis Khan into a single genetic pattern. They then mapped that pattern to a human candidate and encoded it into a clone. This clone, or as Cobra called him, Serpentor, was one of the toughest adversaries we have ever faced. Catching him took heavy tolls on our team." Beachhead closed his eyes, taking a second for questions.

"So what you're saying is that the symbol on the door means that Cobra tried to create a new Serpentor?" Blue Jaye asked.

"Well, with the recent killings coincidently timed to the same time this door revealed itself, I would say they have already created a new Serpentor." Beachhead replied.

"So that is who is behind the recent killings?" Cricket added.

"I would say so. However, there are already some notifiable differences from the first Serpentor." Beachhead said, pointing at the picture. "This symbol depicts a woman. But the original symbol was a man."

"The killer is a woman." Zanya interjected.

"Yes." Beachhead replied, taking another moment for the information to sink in.

Blue Jaye began to pace back and forth. Rubbing her chin, she kept looking back and forth between the picture tacked on the wall and the lion lying on the table. She began to speak aloud.

"It makes sense." She said walking over to the lion. "The experiment was happening in the lab, behind the door. There was a surge, something that caused the seismic activity and exposed the cave. At the same time, this new Serpentor who was created got loose."

Suddenly, she stopped pacing and stared at the ground. Her head then whipped up, her expression one of excitement. Reaching in her pocket, she grabbed a piece of paper from her pocket and began scanning it carefully. As she reached one point in the document, she gave a shout, and jumped up in the air.

"Here!" She exclaimed, running over to the bulletin board and tacking up the piece of paper. It was a list of names. "This is a list of prints obtained at both crime scenes." Grabbing a pen, she circled one. Pointing at it, she turned to Beachhead and the rest of her team. "Emily Hoskins. She was a student at the university who committed suicide, overdosing last semester." A series of sympathetic looks and sighs came from her teammates. "Yes, it was extremely tragic. She was a prospering student and track star, and none of her family and friends ever remembered her taking any drugs." Her teammates were following her, but not sure where she was going.

"Anyway, her prints came up at both crime scenes prominently. We only dismissed her because she was deceased, but with this new info…" She paused to think before continuing. "She is also connected to the genetics department. She did her work study there." Blue Jaye stated.

"Genetics?" Beachhead said, starting to make the connection.

"Yes. On the computer in the library, the killer was searching for a lecture being given by a Doctor Branson who worked in the genetics department. The Sherriff and I went over to interview the doctor who was giving the lecture but he was out of town. When we left though, one of the assistants thanked the Sherriff's officers for helping out with Emily Hoskins, the girl who committed suicide. The officers had questioned the staff at the department after she killed herself." Blue Jaye concluded. Beachhead and the rest of her team's eyes were wide.

"Whoa." Cricket interjected, looking down at her phone. "Checking the university database, Doctor Branson was Emily Hoskins biology teacher. It also looks like he had accepted a request to be her mentor for her graduate work before her death."

"Sounds like the perfect candidate for an experiment." Zanya added. "Smart, athletic, young."

"The crime scenes make more sense too." Blue Jaye said. "Initially, she went to the library to find answers. As a student, she would know where to go and what to look for."

"So then why would the next crime scene be at the ballpark?" Oakley asked.

"I'm not sure. She was a student. Maybe she was there because of something she remembered." Blue Jaye went on. "Anyway, the victims, the way they were killed. It was brutal yes, but there was something else. It was like the killer was scared, acting in self-preservation, almost instinctual."

"Sounds like a rabid dog." Oakley said.

"Or maybe she's just not all herself." Zanya added again. "If she is anything like the first Serpentor, than she has a whole bunch of other people inside of her. The scalpings. Maybe that's evidence of one of the otherpeople taking over."

"Imagine everything going on in her head?" Cricket said sympathetically.

"That's it!" Blue Jaye exclaimed. The team flinched a bit. "There's too much going on in her head. She went to the library, and was surprised. Her new instincts took over and she killed the guard. Something after that, a memory, probably when she was a student going to a game triggered, bringing her to the baseball park. Again, she was ambushed by the guards, and lashed out instinctually."

"So where do you think she is going now?" Beachhead asked, amazed at Blue Jaye's ability to connect the dots. The team watched her keenly as she put her hand to her chin again.

"I'm thinking two places. One is Doctor Branson. The connections are there, and the Sherriff and I are going to talk to him first thing in the morning. The other place must be why she went to the baseball field." She paused as her team looked with blank faces again.

"If my memories were coming back, I would try to remember whatever meant the most to me, whatever made me feel safe. We know that her work, her mentor is one person. But who could be another?" Blue Jaye asked.

"A boyfriend, or significant other." Zanya answered.

"Exactly." Blue Jaye confirmed.

"Bingo." Cricket added, holding up her phone. The image was of a young blonde woman, strong, beautiful, and with a brilliant smile. She was holding onto a boy, also young and handsome, wearing a Lakeside letterman sports coat. "Christopher Sabel. This is from one of her last posts on social media. Looking through her feed, he is there a lot."

"Ok, here is the plan." Beachhead said, brushing down the front of his olive uniform. "Blue Jaye, you and the Sherriff will interview Doctor Branson. Cricket, you will work on reprograming the Catamount, and Zee, you will need to figure out a way for us to get on the other side of this door." He stated, pointing at the photo.

"What about me, Sir?" Oakley asked, tipping the brim of her Stetson.

"You and I will pay a visit to this Chris Sabel. I know it won't be as exciting as the other assignments, but it should be straightforward and simple." Beachhead stated, ending the meeting.

Chapter 17

The burning orange and pink hues that had splattered across the twilight sky were fading as the moon began to rise into the early night. Emily Hoskins stood in front of the two-story Dutch colonial house resting at the end of the neighborhood cul-de-sac. A chorus of chirps from amphibious peepers came from the woodland behind the house.

Emily looked up to the blackened windows and moved across the front yard quickly and silently. Crouching behind a shrub, she looked up at a faint glow coming from a second-story side window. The shadow of a figure moved past the light and she instinctually ducked to the ground. Running to the back of the house, Emily knelt behind a covered gas grill, hidden from sight.

On the back porch, a screen door led into the kitchen. Walking to the door, Emily pressed the handle and found it was unlocked. Soundless, she opened the door and slid inside, hiding behind the kitchen table. She remained silent, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Outlines of the countertop, cupboards, sink, fridge, and the dishwasher came into focus.

Suddenly, she heard a faint rustling. She froze, though her muscles were tense. She listened to her heart and the beating of war drums suddenly started to rumble in her head. Closing her eyes tightly, she fought the growing urges as the noise got louder. Then, a small shadow appeared across the kitchen tile before Emily realized it was a purring housecat.

Letting out a relieved breath, Emily started softly snapping her fingers and the cat came to her, rubbing its head, neck, and side on her legs. Patting him happily, she stood up and walked slowly out of the kitchen. The cat followed her out into the carpeted hallway.

She looked down at the animal, continuing to purr and rub against her ankles. Peering ahead, she saw the stairwell heading up to the lit room. Making her way to the bottom of the stairs, the cat hopped up the first few before turning around and letting out a loud meow. Freezing again, Emily held her breath waiting to see what would happen next.

"Dexter?" Came a male voice from the second floor.

The orange and white cat meowed again and then hopped up the next few steps. Emily took a silent step and the cat jumped up another two. Smiling at the feline, Emily quietly followed the cat to the second floor landing. Looking down the hall, she saw a yellow glow coming from an open doorway.

"Dexter? Come here boy." Came another friendly call.

The cat pranced happily into the room with Emily following. Peering around the doorway, she saw a library, packed with varying sizes of books, some oversized, and some small like a set of personal journals. Scattered among the books were various antiques including a set of Native American masks, an ornate seventeenth century Russian clock, and a miniature model of an ancient Chinese castle boat. A large recliner sat in the middle of the room, its back facing Emily. A glass of caramel colored liquid sat on a small table next to the chair. Emily whipped her head away as the man looked around. Hearing him place down a book and get up, she took a deep breath and walked into the doorway.

Seeing her, the man dropped his glass with a thud on the carpeted floor. Dexter curiously bounded over, sniffing the liquid stain. The man hesitated, not sure what to say.

"You came back." He said, an excitement growing in his voice.

Emily took a step toward him. Instinctually, he stepped back.

"Who am I?" She asked, standing confidently. The war drums started in her head again.

The man put his hands out in front of him in a calming fashion. Slowly, he moved closer. "It's complicated. But please, I can explain everything. My name is Doctor Branson. I am sure there is a lot going on in your head." The doctor stated.

"I've been having…visions." Emily said as the war drums got louder.

She grabbed at her temple trying to calm herself. Doctor Branson reached out and gently grabbed her arm.

"It's ok. Let it come. These aren't visions. They're memories." He said trying to look as unthreatening as possible. Emily seemed to relax a bit. He continued. "You were part of an experiment. Do you remember? It was called Project Culebra. We mapped a series of DNA strands to your genome. The project was a success, but right after we succeeded, there was a short in the lab. An explosion. At first you were non-responsive, then…" The doctor trailed off.

A wave of memories came over Emily. She remembered stepping into a metal chamber. She remembered waking on cold metal floor. There was smoke, and people shouting and running. Another slide show of images clicked in her mind, full of violence and gore. Shaking, she looked back at the doctor.

"Who am I?" She asked him again.

"You are a success. The next generation in human evolution. A new species." Doctor Branson stated, getting more excited.

His vagueness was making Emily agitated. Looking into her eyes, he stopped, and resumed his calming demeanor.

"I apologize. Let me try to explain. The DNA that we mapped came from a series of ancient female warriors, leaders, queens." Pausing, he gestured for Emily to stay in her place as he hurried over to a bookcase.

Within a glass case was an aged Native American tomahawk. The axe head was a dark gray, lighter at the blade. Straps of deer hide wrapped around the weapon's belly and throat, with a series of feathers hanging from its shoulder and knob. Delicately removing it from its case, the doctor brought it over to Emily, handing it to her.

"Lozen. A prophet of the Chihenne Chiricahua Apache. According to legend, she was able to use her powers to learn the movements of her enemy. She is also now, a part of you." He said, reaching out to give her the axe. She took it. "Now. Close your eyes and let her come."

Emily closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. As the axe handle gripped tight in her hands and she began to hear the war drums return. Except this time, she let them come, let them beat loudly all around her.

Opening her eyes, she was no longer in the two-story colonial home. Instead, she was on the precipice of a rocky mountain, staring into a crisp sky with bountiful clouds, travelling quickly across the horizon. Around her, a series of wooden steaks rose out of the earth, propping up handmade beds for fallen warriors. Soldiers, their faces painted in red and black yelped and shouted, raising their weapons to the setting sun.

"You can feel her can't you?" Came the doctor's distant voice.

As Emily looked to him, the rugged mountainside faded away. However, Lozen was still present. She could feel her. It was like she had tapped an electric current and it moved through her muscles like an anxious fox.

"I can show you more. Come, let's go back to the lab. Soon, you will know the whole story." The doctor stated, nodding and walking out the door, encouraging Emily to follow.

Apprehensive, something deep inside her told her she couldn't trust him. Still, she knew he was the only one who could tell her the truth. Maybe he could help her. Save her, she thought as she followed him downstairs out onto the back porch.

The doctor walked toward a large brick carriage house nestled behind the home around a set of trees. The carriage house appeared empty and the structure sagged in the middle. As the doctor reached the blackened shadows of the forest, Emily stopped. Something in her head was raging like an alarm. She looked at doctor walking with his back turned to her. His left arm swung close to his side, but his right arm bulged a bit by his elbow. It seemed like he was grasping something in his jacket. She didn't know how, but she sensed it was a weapon. As she followed him, she dropped her grip low on the axe.

Suddenly, he turned and removed a pistol he was hiding underneath his jacket. At the same time, Emily dropped and spun, throwing the axe end over end at her assailant. As the shot went high, the doctor stared at the hatchet, its blade now struck into his chest. Blood oozed around the eagle feathers dangling from the neck of the weapon.

Dropping to his knees, he feebly tried to rip open his shirt at the buttons to see the wound. A strained wheezing came from his mouth as he dropped to his side. Emily walked over as he mouthed a string of silent words into the darkness. Pulling her axe out of his sternum, she looked in his eyes before she brought it down on his skull.

Wrenching the blade free, she raised her head into the moonlight. After a few moments, Emily pulled the doctor's body into the carriage house. Soon, she darted out into the woods, disappearing into the trees swaying in the night wind.

Chapter 18

The following morning, General Beachhead led Agent Oakley up the square cement path into the tall Italianate rugby house off the University green. The two happy house cats came to greet them, purring and rubbing against their boots. Walking freely into the open doorway, Beachhead found a group of kids sitting on a beat up L-shaped sofa, playing a video game on a large screen TV.

Casually, he walked in front of the screen which hung above a shuttered fireplace. His pressed olive dress sobered up the room, and the kids sat up with attention, putting their controllers and bottles to their sides. Taking off his cap, he rested it on the oaken mantle and turned, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Hello. My name is General Beachhead." He stated nodding at Agent Oakley. "This here is Agent Oakley. We are currently assisting the local police department in an investigation. We are here today to speak with a Christopher Sabel. Is he here at this residence?"

The group of kids stared at the general blankly. Looking at each other for what to do next, one boy with a blue letterman jacket leaned on the edge of his seat. With a timid expression, he spoke.

"No. He left last night with some girl. Probably went to his buddy Patrick's. He lives a few blocks over on Pine Street." The boy responded hopping back into the couch. Beachhead nodded, staring at him and the other kids in the room.

"Who was the girl?" Oakley asked.

The group turned their heads in synch. She looked down at the closest boy wearing a pair of blue gym shorts and a gray university T. He looked nervously at her sidearm and the string of bullets secured in her belt.

"I don't know. Never seen her before. Probably someone he just met. I…we...didn't…have time to ask before he left." The boy stammered in reply. Oakley nodded at the answer.

"Where's his room?" She asked looking up at Beachhead.

"Upstairs, in the cupula." Another boy said.

Beachhead nodded as Oakley went up to investigate. Turning his attention back to the group, he reached into his pocket and grabbed a pen and a pocket leather-bound notebook. Flipping it open, he clicked the top of the pen.

"Where does this Patrick live again?" Beachhead asked.

After a few kids hastily responded over one another, Beachhead took down the address as Oakley came back downstairs. She took her head. He grabbed his hat off the table.

"Thank you all for your cooperation." He said. A couple of kids gave a short salute which he returned before meeting Oakley at the door.

"What did you find in his room?" Beachhead asked Oakley as they walked out of the house.

"Nothing. There was stuff thrown around, but I have no idea if it was because he was in a hurry or if he is just a messy kid. What did you get?" Oakley replied.

"The address to this Patrick fellow they think Chris and the girl might have gone." Beachhead said.

Suddenly, his and Oakley's phones began to vibrate. Taking his out, Beachhead saw the screen was flashing red. He clicked a button and spoke.

"Go for Beachhead." He said.

Blue Jaye's voice came over the line. She was excited, a bit frantic even.

"Doctor Branson's dead. The Sherriff and I are at his house. His body was jammed in a corner in a garage out behind his house. Looks fresh." She rambled off.

Beachhead looked up at Oakley. Their eyes were wide and alert.

"Sir?" Blue Jaye asked over the phone.

"I'm sending Oakley over. Let the Sherriff and his people get the crime scene roped off, photographed, and processed. We'll meet back at base at 1100 for a briefing." He stated, clicking the phone and ending the conversation.

Swiping to another app, he saw that Doctor Branson's house was only a few blocks away. He tapped his screen a few times and soon Oakley's phone buzzed again. She looked down at her phone.

"The doctor's address is only a little ways from here. I just sent you the directions. I am going to take the car and head to this Patrick's house. When you get to Branson's, have the Sherriff send a cruiser to meet me. I want his men to take prints in Chris's and at his buddy's house." He stated. Oakley nodded.

"Ok, good luck. See you later." The old general concluded before getting into the sedan and pulling out of the driveway.

Chapter 19

Beachhead pulled the tan Buick into the dirt parking lot of the two-story apartment building. Simple and straightforward, the building was a solid rectangle with white synthetic paneling. Four shudder-less windows were spaced exactly apart on the top and bottom floors. Two wooden stairwells ran up each side of the house with two mailboxes resting on the railings.

The old general walked up the right stairwell past the first landing to the apartment on the second floor. After knocking, a white shade pulled back on the half glass door and a young, tired looking boy stared up at him.

"Are you Patrick Monahan?" He asked.

"Yeah, who are you?" He asked a tad annoyed. Beachhead removed his wallet to reveal his ID.

"My name is General Beachhead. I am cooperating with the sheriff's department on a case and I need to speak with you please." While Beachhead was trying to be polite, the lack of manners from the kid on the other side of the glass had started to wear him thin.

"Do you have a warrant?" The kid asked, continue to toy with the general.

"No, but I can get one. And I'll still be standing here, waiting as long as it takes for the officer to bring it to me." He replied with the last of his patience.

"What if you need to go to the bathroom?" The kid continued to chide.

Beachhead leaned close to the glass, his face inches away from the boy's.

"I'll get creative." He said with a grin of his own.

The kid's expression rightfully changed, and he opened the door, flinging it open, frustratingly conceding. Beachhead walked in to see a kitchen sink and counter littered with dirty dishes and empty take-out containers. There was a door in front of him which was closed and he saw the open door to the bathroom to his left.

The kid had slumped himself on the couch and grabbed a controller, firing up a game of FIFA on a large flat screen TV. A British flag hung on the wall behind the couch along with pictures of some soccer stars who Beachhead did not recognize. He looked down at a slew of empty bottles and cans on a cheap wooden coffee table. Walking in front of the TV, Beachhead casually removed his pad and pen. The boy frustratingly threw the controller on the couch.

"You're friends with Christopher Sabel?" Beachhead asked, clicking the top of his pen.

"Chris? Yeah, we're in the same English lit class this semester. He comes over every now and then to play soccer." The kid said, nodding to the TV behind Beachhead.

"Did he come over last night?" Beachhead asked.

"No." The boy stammered. "But I saw him this past weekend at a house party down the street." He rambled out. Beachhead stared at him before writing down in his notebook.

"You said he didn't come over last night?" Beachhead pressed.

"No." The boy repeated, a little less confidently. "I mean, he called and said he was going to come over, but he never showed."

"Does he do that often?" Beachhead continued to question.

"Sometimes. He's been through a lot. His girlfriend died last semester. Killed herself. We both like soccer. When he comes over and plays, we just hang out. I think it calms him down, you know? I just try to be there for him." The boy said, looking side to side. He was getting extremely uncomfortable.

Beachhead simply nodded. Instead of asking another question, he started walking around the apartment, first to the bathroom and then toward the door that was closed.

"What's in here?" He asked, starting to reach for the door.

At this, the boy leapt from the couch, positioning himself in front of Beachhead and the door. Instead of backing off, Beachhead leaned in close to the boy's face.

"Who's in there?" He asked quietly but commanding.

"My girlfriend." He blurted out. "I'm not sure if she's decent. She came over and stayed the night."

With this, Beachhead took a step back and seemed to relax a bit.

"We'll get her up. I'm going to need to speak to her too." He stated, crossing his arms across his olive dress shirt. The boy hesitated for a moment and reluctantly turned the knob.

The door burst open and Emily jumped out, her hatchet high above her head. Beachhead raised his left forearm to block her downward blow. The pain as the wood handle connected with his bone was instantaneous. Grinding his teeth together, Beachhead grunted as she drove her free hand into his side.

The old general spat out a forced cough as the wind escaped from his lungs. Dropping to one knee, his peripheral vision saw his attacker bring the axe down again. Instinctually, he raised his forearm again to block. Beachhead felt his Ulna give way with a crack. A white light blinded him in pain from the fracture. She is fast, like a ninja, he said to himself. Lucky for him, he had trained with ninjas before.

Blocking out the pain, he turned to face Emily as she swung her hatchet sideways toward his gut. Stepping into the attack, he grabbed her arm and the hilt of the axe. Pushing himself into her, he stepped on her right foot and drove his free elbow up into her lower jaw. Stumbling back, her weapon fell to the floor. Beachhead quickly kicked it out of her reach.

Strengthening her balance, Emily prepared for the next bout. Beachhead stared, amazed at her combat technique. Just looking at her stance and posture, his instincts told him he was fighting someone with incredibly advanced skills. But she's only twenty? She's a biology student? Beachhead asked himself. But he knew she was no longer any of those things. What was standing in front of him, was something else entirely.

Flinching forward, Emily tried to bait Beachhead into striking first. He happily obliged charging and throwing a left jab. Moving to her right, she prepared to counter but Beachhead got to her first. He connected with her right side, buckling her forward. Recovering immediately, she gave him a jab to the body. Another series of cracks told Beachhead he had broken a few ribs. Using the moment, he grabbed her shirt under her neck and pulled her in with all his strength. Lowering his head, he head butted her as hard as he could.

Emily's head shot back, blood sputtering out of her mouth. Smiling through a set of reddened teeth, she slammed her hand into the other side of his chest, cracking more ribs. Beachhead coughed out blood as he tightened his grip and pulled her in for another head butt.

This time, Emily stumbled back, falling on the ground. Rising to his feet, Beachhead returned her bloody smile as he picked up her hatchet.

Then, it hit him. A burning surge came from his chest, making him gasp for any air he could. Dropping to his knees, the hatchet fell to his side as his heart felt as it was about to burst. No, not now, Beachhead pleaded with himself as the massive cardiac arrest continued to rumble through his body.

Emily got up slowly and wiped the blood from her face with her arm. Walking over to the ailing general she kicked him over onto his back. Beachhead's eyes were bulging out of their sockets as he stared helplessly up at her.

"You can come out now." Emily stated, looking back to the bedroom.

Chris came out apprehensively, looking around the apartment and then to Beachhead lying on the ground.

"What's wrong with him?" He asked sheepishly.

"He's dying." Emily replied flatly.

"Dying?" Chris asked, looking at Emily and then at his friend Patrick.

"Yes. He's having a heart attack." Emily said staring into his eyes. "He doesn't have long."

Patrick's face was white as he stared listlessly at the floor. Emily nodded as she came toward Chris and grabbed his arm. He looked afraid. Like he didn't recognize her.

"Chris. We need to get out of here. The police will be here soon. Please." She said, gently rubbing his shoulder. He seemed to calm down as he took in the situation.

"Sure, ok. Where do you think we should go?" He asked, unsure as he looked over at his friend.

"Someplace to lay low for a bit. Someplace away from the university and the center of town." Emily said, making eye contact with Chris the entire time.

"Yeah, ok, that sounds like a good plan." He replied, his voice sounding more confident toward the end of his sentence.

"Great." She said, kissing him on the cheek before turning to Patrick. "Patrick, do you have someplace to lay low?" She asked. The question seemed to break Patrick from his trance.

"Yeah. I know a friend. He can vouch that I wasn't here. That any of us were here." He said, looking down at the general wheezing on his carpet. Emily looked to Chris.

"Go down and get the car started. I'll quick help Patrick clean up here and I'll meet you down there with our stuff." She said, giving Chris another kiss.

"Sure, no problem." Chris said softly, glad to head out of the apartment.

After he left, Emily ran back into the bedroom and grabbed their stuff. Patrick was now standing, pacing nervously.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked her.

"Check his pockets for a phone, or anything that he might have used to record the conversation." She replied.

Patrick nodded quickly and bent over, searching the general's pockets. Silently, Emily grabbed her hatchet and positioned herself behind him. As he turned to ask her another question, she struck him in the back. Kicking him onto the floor, she brought her hatchet down again as blood splashed across the flat screen TV.

Part 2: Pursuit

Chapter 20

Gerneral Breaker stood over Beachhead lying in a hospital bed watching him breathe through a respirator. His chest was bandaged with gauze and his left arm was raised in a set cast. She looked up at the patient monitor and saw him fighting for his life. Her left prosthetic claw clanked against the metal railing as she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.

"Keep fighting, Sir." She whispered to her mentor before rising and giving him a firm salute.

Leaving the room, she walked down a series of hallways into a small conference room looking over the town and lake. A series of storm clouds were sweeping through, splattering rain on the wide glass windows. The entire team, Blue Jaye, Cricket, Oakley, Zanya, and even the Sherriff were seated and standing around the room. Breaker had their attention the second she entered.

"He's alive and the doctors say he's got a good shot at a full recovery." Breaker announced as she placed her back on the table.

The group gave a collective sigh of relief as Oakley let out a yelp, slamming a hand on the table. Like Breaker, Beachhead had brought Oakley through the ranks as a cadet. Taking out a small flask, Oakley took a generous pull before gesturing to the rest of the team. Shrugging after everyone declined, she took another pull before placing it back in her jacket.

"Well if that doesn't throw your hat over the windmill, I'm not sure what will!" Oakley exclaimed. The rest of the team returned a line of smiles.

"I couldn't have said it better myself." Breaker joked before taking over the conversation. "General Spirit brought me up to speed before I arrived."

"Is the general on his way?" Blue Jaye asked.

"No. General Spirit is off on an undisclosed mission. In his absence, he asked that I take over his duties." Breaker replied, looking around the room. The team gave no signs of opposition. She continued, bringing out the photo of the door and engraving.

"I'm sure none of you are aware, but my father found this symbol thirty years ago. As you have been briefed, this symbol represents the second attempt to build a Cobra super solider." She opened the folder in front of her and removed a photo with a sketch of Da Vinci's Vitruvian man, but the man was a woman. "This is a photo from a page of Destro's journal. Based on the information my father retrieved, the operation was called Project Culebra."

"Culebra?" Blue Jaye asked. "Like the province in Puerto Rico?"

"No. As in the Spanish word." Breaker answered.

"Snake." Oakley translated quietly in the room.

"Yes. Snake. But culebra, in comparison to serpiente, has the female ending." Breaker replied.

"A female Serpentor." Cricket interjected.
"Correct. Thirty years ago, my father uncovered these plans and went undercover with another agent." Breaker said.

"Doesn't look like he succeeded." Zanya said, leaning forward, crossing her arms in front of her on the table. Breaker shot her a look.

"Actually, he did succeed." She replied, regaining the attention of the room. "As you have been briefed, the original Serpentor was a combination of DNA retrieved from some of history's greatest warriors. For Serpentor, all the DNA collected came solely from males. Project Culebra was different in that all DNA would come from women."

"Why was that?" The Sherriff asked.

"You don't know?" Blue Jaye joked. "Women are far superior."

The group enjoyed a much needed laugh, including Breaker, before she continued.

"Yes, I agree with Blue Jaye. But to the Sherriff's point, the true reasons for choosing all female DNA is unknown. Only Destro and the Baroness know the real reason, and they are both deceased. What I do know is that my father uncovered the combination of DNA that Destro planned to use. He found that they had collected every strand except one."

"Which one?" Blue Jaye asked.

"Joan of Arc." Breaker replied. The entire room fell silent. "My father and the other agent tracked down the final piece of her DNA and destroyed it. Up until now, we had believed Project Culebra was abandoned.

"But if they didn't have Joan of Arc's DNA, how did they succeed?" Blue Jaye asked, looking a bit shocked and perplexed.

"That's another question we need to investigate." Breaker said. Tapping her claw on the table, she looked to her team. "So, what do we have so far? Let's start with the door with the symbol." What have you found?" Cricket straightened in her chair.

"Well, we haven't been able to open it using any technical means at our disposal. I was going to start some more coarse action on it." Zanya replied.

"Coarse?" Breaker asked.

"I'll start with a series of drills and then move on to more explosive means." She said, giving everyone a grin.

"Ok. And the animal?" She questioned, looking at Cricket.

"Yes, well I was able to remove the old B.A.T. tech and implant a new memory chip into the back of its neck. This makes it more comfortable for him as he recoups. He is regaining his strength and I have been giving him a lot of positive reinforcement and playtime." Cricket said happily.

"Playtime?" Breaker asked.

"Yep, we cuddle, and he has been starting to bat tennis balls around. See?" Cricket said, holding up her phone. On it she was hugging the large lion with a big smile. The beast's tongue was playfully hanging out of its jaws. "I call him Lionel."

"I call you crazy." Zanya interjected. "I'm not going near that thing." She added to another round of laughter.

"Ok, good work. Keep at the door, and be careful with the cat." Breaker replied.

"Lionel." Cricket corrected her.

"Whatever." Breaker said, moving on. "What about the girl?" She asked, looking at Blue Jaye and the Sherriff.

"Right, the girl. Emily Hoskins. Her prints were found in the library, at Century Field, her boyfriend's room, and his friend Patrick's apartment. She is the only solid lead we have except that she committed suicide last semester. Drug overdose." Blue Jaye stated. Sherriff Smith sat up to provide his insight.

"From what we've uncovered, she was a stellar student, biology major, looking to continue on in grad school. She was also a track star for the university, and holds the current records for the 100 and 200 meter dash. Her biology professor was Doctor Branson whom she worked with for her work study. He was the fourth victim we found. Stuffed in the garage behind his house. He is also the first victim she didn't scalp." The Sherriff paused. Blue Jaye interjected.

"Based on the pattern of the killings, we think she was initially experiencing memory loss. Going to the library was her way of trying to get more information. We believe a memory triggered her heading to the baseball field. After that, her patterns seem more concise, like she had started putting things together. Right now, she and her former boyfriend, Chris Sabel are at large." Blue Jaye concluded.

The room was silent. Breaker tapped her claw lightly on the table as she processed the information Blue Jaye and the Sherriff provided.

"If she is regaining her conscious then she is getting stronger. That is bad news for us if we hope to contain her." Breaker said.

"Can we call Tommy or Jinx?" Blue Jaye asked. Breaker shook her head.

"They are off on assignment abroad. No, it is just us. But we can do this." She looked at Cricket and Zanya. "Keep at the door. Get it open whatever it takes. I believe that some answers to our questions are on the other side. And keep up with the cat, but the door is the priority, understood?" She stated. Cricket and Zanya both nodded in approval. Breaker turned to the Sherriff.

"Sherriff, I'm going to need a few things from you and your department." The Sherriff sat up and nodded. "First, we will need to set up checkpoints to all accesses on land and water in and out of town. I can help you with resources for that. Second, we will need to check any reservations at hotels or motels for two suspects that fit Emily and Chris's description. You'll also want to inquire on any rooms or apartments that have been rented in the past twenty-four to forty-eight hours. The list should be fairly short, but let me know if you need any assistance. Finally, I will need you to get authorization to exhume Emily Hoskins body. We need to confirm if she is in fact dead. Unfortunately, exhuming the body is the quickest way to verify. I hope you understand?" Breaker said. The Sherriff nodded again.

Blue Jaye sat up. "We'll get on it right away." She added. Breaker shook her head.

"No, I'm going to need you to come for me for another assignment. Oakley, you will accompany the Sherriff to exhume Emily's body." Breaker stated. Oakley tipped her cap in acknowledgement.

"Where are we going?" Blue Jaye asked.

"To speak with the original Serpentor." Breaker replied with one last tap of her claw.

Chapter 21

Emily Hoskins and Chris Sabel hopped out of a cab onto a dirt road. A wooden sign with carved letters painted yellow read, Welcome to the Village Boatyard. The boatyard resided on the most northeastern point of town, where the roads turned to gravel along the shoreline, and was the original fishing port of Lakeside. During the town' early years, fishermen would interact with the local tribes who occupied the islands to the north, when the salmon trade was at its most profitable.

As the decades and industrial age came to Lakeside, fishing took a back seat to textile mills and factories. A steadfast line of fishermen remained though, now chartering fishing and sightseeing tours of the lake and islands. Emily reached into her blue North Face jacket and grabbed a torn piece of classifieds ripped from a newspaper.

Stopping first at a second hand thrift shop, they had each managed to find a set of outdoor gear. They then at visited a pharmacy to buy hair clippers and dye. After staining the sink of a local Friendly's, they found an apartment to rent on the outskirts of town in the boatyard. The cab kicked up a dusty cloud of dirt as it returned on its journey to town.

Emily and Chris began to walk down the peaceful dirt road toward the lake. A chorus of bird calls sounded as they moved toward the shore. A mix of squirrels and chipmunks darted around the wood surrounding them. The dirt road ended as the trees and dirt path curved into a makeshift parking lot. A few beat up trucks sat on each side, next to a path that led to a group of wooden homes.

A worn driftwood sign stuck out of the ground in front of them identifying the house numbers. Emily looked at the classified advertisement and found the number to the house with the apartment for rent. She turned to Chris.

"I will do all the talking. If he asks you anything, we are biology students working on a grant funded by UMass. We are second year graduate students and we are studying the habits of frogs." Emily said to Chris, trying to build his confidence.

"Frogs?" Chris asked looking a little confused.

"I wrote a term paper about frogs in my junior year. I am hoping to overload the landlord with enough science for him to believe us." She said, wrapping her arm around his waist.

"Ok, ok. I can do this." He said to himself. Emily leaned in and kissed him.

"It's ok. It will work." She said confidently.

Chris nodded quickly back. He saw in her eyes she knew what she was doing, but there was something else. It made him feel watched. Uneasy. He turned his gaze back toward the boathouses.

"Ok, let's do it." He replied.

They walked down the narrow gravel path past a house with weathered blue siding. A string of buoys hung along the front porch and one of the windows was replaced with a brass porthole. The next home was a drooping one-story shingled cottage with a two-story garage. The sides were made up of planks of darkened cedar, with dirty-white shingles and a half broken porch. There was a small Apartment for Rent sign in the window. Walking up the wooden stairs, the planks below them strained as they reached the front door. After a few knocks, an elderly man poked his head out of the doorway.

"What do you want?" He asked firmly but polite. Chris began to panic but Emily stepped right into her character.

"Hello. My name is Ruth Kravitz. I, and my assistant here, are graduate students at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst. We are inquiring about the apartment for rent?" She asked, flashing a genuine smile.

The old man looked her up and down as he emerged fully onto the porch. He wore a pair of aged LL Bean boots with a tan set of Carharts. Two thick green suspenders clasped over his red checkered flannel. He looked at them with a deep intense stare.

"Graduate students?" He asked carefully and slowly.

"Yes, we are biology students studying herpetology. The study of frogs. My assistant and I are looking for a place to stay for a month or two during the spring mating season." Emily said gesturing to Chris standing behind her. Chris simply raised his hand for a silent hello. The old man continued to stare.

"Frogs?" He asked. Emily smiled and continued as if on cue.

"That's correct. I'm currently conducting a research study on local frogs here in this ecosystem. I'm focusing on behaviors during mating season, specifically the calls they make. Right now, the spring peepers are out in mass. They let out these large peeps." Emily said, pausing to recreate her best spring peeper impression. "It sounds like a chorus of sopranos and is absolutely incredible." She said as the old man cocked an eyebrow as she excitedly went on.

"Then, the tree frogs will join in with a series of weeps." Emily contorted her facial expressions as she continued on with her impressions. "And to bring up the bass, the green and bull frogs provide a deep baritone with a series of guttural croaks." Again, she moved her neck awkwardly to produce the noise.

Finished, Emily stood back to take in the old fisherman's reaction. He just continued to stare, grabbing one of his suspenders as he started chewing on his tongue.

"The room is $900 a month." He said nodding to the second floor above the garage. "It's a small mother-in-law apartment, bathroom, small kitchenette, bed room, and living area." He said, walking past the two toward the apartment.

Emily and Chris followed hastily as he led them up a rickety stairwell above the garage into the residence. It was small and sparse, just as he described. It was also partially furnished with a pleated couch, small TV stand with a tube television, and a set of standing lamps. The landlord pulled the string on one of the lamps lighting the apartment in a soft yellow glow.

"The bedroom, bath and kitchenette are through there." He said, pointing into a corner hall which Chris ventured in to. "You can drop your trash in the buckets around the other side of the garage. Rent's due on the first of the month. Just put it through my mail slot." He said, handing Emily the keys.

Successfully hiding her excitement on how easy everything was going, she took the keys and then opened her bag. Removing a set of crisp bills she handed them to the landlord, smiling.

"Here. This is for the first month's rent. We just got our stipend from the bank." She replied, pushing the rest of the bills back into the white envelope.

He stared at the money for a moment before tucking it in his pocket and turning to leave. Closing the door behind him, he didn't say another word. Emily turned to see Chris looking at her smiling happily.

"We did it." He said walking over and turning the TV on.

An image slowly faded onto the screen. It was of a children's puppet dancing with a few overly excited adults. Chris turned the nob to find the few channels that were able to broadcast over the outdated antenna. Setting on a local news report, he gasped as he saw the reporter speaking gravely into the camera as a high school picture of Emily and himself shown on the screen. He turned up the volume.

"…again, if you have seen anyone who might fit the description of these two suspects, please call the police immediately." A number appeared on the screen. "Do not approach, these two are considered armed and dangerous. Contact local authorities immediately." He stated, before turning to his co-host who started in a story on the recent sugaring season. Chris looked at Emily in shock.

"They're going to find us. That old man is going to call the police." He said, his voice arching into a frantic pitch. Emily grabbed both of his hands.

"Chris. It's ok. We're here. We're safe for now. I am going to get us help soon. Trust me?" She said.

"Help? Who are you going to get to help us? Everyone is looking for us?" He said, his breaths starting to get short. Emily reached into her jacket and removed a phone.

"This is Doctor Branson's phone. I'm going to call whoever he was in contact with to see if they can help. He mentioned it before…" Emily replied, trailing off.

"…before he tried to kill you?" Chris finished her train of thought. "What makes you think they will help us?" He asked.

"I don't know. But it's the only thing left I can think of." She said, looking down at the phone.

Swiping it open, she searched the doctor's recent calls in and out. There was one restricted number that kept showing up. Pushing the button, she raised the phone to her ear, waiting for the line to connect.

"I trust you have some good news to report." A calm, female voice came from the other end.

Emily did not expect a woman to answer. She stammered.

"Who is this?" Emily asked. She could hear a rustling on the other end of the line.

"Emily?" Asked the female voice, still calm. Taken aback again by hearing her own name, she stuttered again as she replied.

"Who is this?" Emily repeated, falling silent. After another moment, the woman spoke.

"My name is Deborah Minh." The voice replied. "I worked with Doctor Branson on the experiment which you were involved. Do you remember me?" Deborah asked from the other end of the line.

A string of memories ran through Emily's mind. She saw herself sitting in Doctor Branson's dining room. A slender, mature Asian woman sat across from her in a dark crimson gown and ruby shawl. A man stood behind her in the doorway of the dining room. His face was hidden by a shadow, but she could remember the wet suckling sound he made as he breathed in the dark.

"I remember." Emily said, breaking herself away from the visions. "You worked with Doctor Branson."

"Yes." Deborah replied carefully, understanding Emily's apprehension. "But the doctor and I did not see eye to eye. He favored a more direct approach. It's what is causing your amnesia I presume?" She asked. Emily again was not expecting the woman's reply to trigger the emotions it did.

"Doctor Branson told me my visions weren't visions. They were memories." Emily went on, trying to keep her composure. Deborah's calm soothing voice was beginning to break her down.

"He was correct. I can help you with those memories. I can help you control them. Control their power. Where is Doctor Branson?" Deborah asked on the other end of the line.

"He's dead. I killed him." Emily said flatly.

"Another one of your talents." Deborah interjected. "Emily, you did well eliminating the doctor. He had a history of changing his mind, making things extremely difficult for me at times. I was waiting for his call after the experiment concluded. It did not go as he planned, obviously."

"Was it as you planned?" Emily asked, shaking additional visions that were trying to overtake her.

"No. I was expecting to be there. He disobeyed direct orders and began the experiment without authorization. But I can help you. I am here to help you. Please, tell me where you are." Deborah asked.

Emily flinched. Her instincts told her not to trust this woman, but she reminded herself she called for help in the first place. Gripping the phone, she replied.

"I've rented a place on the outskirts of town. I don't think we have too long here though before we are found out." She said.

"How long do you think you have?" Deborah asked.

"A day, maybe two at the most." Emily replied. Chris had sat down in a chair next to her. He looked up at her concerned but hopeful.

"It will be tight, but I will come up with a plan to get you out of there. It might take a diversion or two, but I will be there." Deborah replied.

"A diversion?" Emily asked.

"Don't worry. My resources are extensive. Soon, you will be safe. In the meantime, stay out of sight as best you can. Is there anyone else who knows you are alive?" Deborah asked. Emily looked at Chris and gave a quick smile.

"Yes, there is." She replied. Deborah cut her off before she could continue.

"Eliminate them." Deborah ordered.

"But…" Emily said before Deborah interrupted her again.

"Lozen. Lichíí Idandi." Deborah said sharply on the other end of the line. A white film began to cloud Emily's vision as the beating war drums grew in strength. "Eliminate them." She repeated.

Emily hung up the phone and turned to look out the window. Chris stood up and walked behind her nervously.

"What did they say?" He asked hopefully. "Is someone coming to help us?"

Emily turned to him. Chris took a defensive step back at first, but calmed down after she wrapped her arms around him for a tender hug.

"Yes. Someone is coming." Emily said, her eyes slowly clouding over again.

Chapter 22

Spirit dug his ice tool into a crag above him, pulling himself up the snowy peak on the Spanish side of the Pyrenees Mountains. Cursing his age between breaths, he hauled himself up to the top of the rock, just a few meters from the precipice. Peering below him, a small group of hikers were in distant pursuit, their outlines a string of moving dots.

Most of the tourists were waiting for the warmer months, when the trek would be easier and the majority of the snow and ice had melted. Though Spirit was glad for the assignment as he breathed the crisp air above the tree line. Reaching the peak, he took a moment to sit and take in the vista.

The sun was at its highest point, glistening off the snow and the brown and gray rocks. He stared at the valley below and the large slopes of snow that draped down the mountain like whipped cream on a sundae. Spirit knew the snow would remain on the rocks for a few more moons. But soon, the basin would green up and the snow would fill the upper reservoirs with a cold, clear blue.

Spirit rose and removed his canteen, taking a healthy drink. Opening his backpack, he pulled out a piece of folded fabric. Whipping it out in front of him like a bed sheet, the fabric tensed firm into the form of a small disc. Putting his backpack on, Spirit gleefully sat cross-legged on the disc and aimed himself down the snowy slope into the French valley below. Looking both ways to make sure he was the only soul on the mountaintop, the old general pushed himself off the ice shelf and yelped loudly and happily as he slid down into the basin.

Slowing to a stop at the end of the snow, Spirit re-packed his portable sled and trudged down into the grassy lowlands. The trees had begun to bloom in a hue of greens, whites, and purples. The gravel trail then opened up before a wooden sign alerted him he was approaching a small mountain town. Passing a line of brown houses with white German trim, a few groups of tourists walked past him speaking French.

A coffee shop smelled of homemade pastries, and Spirit looked at a mossy fountain to his right. A couple kids were kicking a soccer ball around a field, covered by a canopy of low arching trees. The chirping of birds accented the peaceful day under the golden sun.

Taking a left away from the quaint storefronts, Spirit headed toward a row of residential houses. Each house was a simple two-story cottage with a quaint second-story balcony. The only distinguishing features between the homes were the different flowers and decorations laid out on the porches. He stopped in front of a wooden door with a steel Celtic triquetra hanging on it. Taking a deep breath, he grasped the hilt of his knife before knocking on the door twice.

There was no answer. Tightening his grip on his Bowie, he knocked again. Still no reply. Reaching down for the door knob, he tested to see if it was locked. The door gave way immediately, opening into a darkened hall. Letting out another deep breath, he looked to his left and right, checking to see if any neighbors were walking past. He was all alone. Silently removing his blade from its sheath, he took a step into the house.

"Hello?" He called out harmlessly into the blackness. The shades were drawn and he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark. He took a step further.

Then, the cool sensation of steel pushed against the back of his neck. A bit of pressure was applied.

"Bang, your dead." Flint joked before flicking on the lights.

Spirit's shoulders relaxed as he turned to face his teammate. Sheathing his knife, the two embraced, chuckling to each other.

"You're getting slow in your old age." Flint said, his salt and pepper hair looking more salt than pepper.

"I don't usually knock on my friend's doors preparing to get ambushed." Spirit replied, smiling truly. Flint laughed as he patted Spirit on the shoulder.

"It's good to see you, you crazy Indian." Flint said. The familiar brown leather bomber jacket still hung off his shoulders.

"You too, Flint. You too." Spirit replied. He moved further into the house, examining the tidy decorations, hand knitted sofa covers, and Persian rug.

"So, what brings you all the way out here? I am sure you weren't just in the neighborhood." Flint inquired.

"You were always the astute one. No, I'm here because I need help." Spirit said, returning a smirk.

"Well of course you need my help." Flint said, crossing his large forearms across his chest. "So, what jam have you gotten yourself into that you desperately need me to get you out of?" Flint asked chidingly.

"It's not you I'm looking for." Spirit said, smiling back coyly, crossing his own arms in rebuke.

At that, a light lit up from the adjacent room. Anastasia McCullen, aka The Baroness, stepped out, leaning her shoulder on the doorframe. Her stark white hair fell around her shoulders on a soft woolen sweater. Declared deceased two years ago, she pushed out her hips and gave Spirit a wink.

"Well, this should be amusing. Please, tell me how I can be of service." She said calmly.

Chapter 23

Blue Jaye and Breaker sat on a set of metal chairs in the interrogation room, a mile and a half below an undisclosed maximum security prison in Nevada. The walls were made of concrete, reinforced with steel beams and a low ceiling lit with two rows of fluorescent light troffers. A slick silver table with two hooks for fastening an inmates restraints stood in front of an empty chair.

The top secret facility held a total of twenty residents, all captured by the Joes. The installation was built below the main prison decades ago, and only a handful of people in the entire world knew of its existence. The two looked at the reinforced door at the far end of the room as they heard a muffled set of keys jingling on the other side.

Then, the door swung open and Serpentor, dressed in an orange jumpsuit hobbled, into the room. He was tall, a little over six feet in height with broad shoulders and chest. A pair of muscular biceps pronounced themselves under his jumpsuit as he sat down on the other side of the table. His hair was long healthy and brown, tied in a ponytail. His eyes were sharp and his cheekbones were high, accenting his powerful brow. While his age was unknown, he looked in his late twenties, early thirties, the genetic enhancements still maintaining him at his prime.

A large African-American security guard positioned himself behind Serpentor, crossing a set of his own powerful forearms across his chest. Breaker looked at Serpentor and then at the guard.

"Thank you officer. We can take it from here." Breaker stated. The guard uncrossed his arms, hesitating a bit.

"Sorry General. I'm under strict orders not to let the prisoner out of my sight." He stated, unsure of her response. Breaker gently started tapping her claw on the steel table. Serpentor smiled.

"Oh you mustn't mind Barney now. He is actually quite the gentleman." Serpentor said smoothly, turning to the guard. "Barney! If you could please fetch us some refreshments, I believe that will help ease the tension in the room, thank you." Serpentor said before turning back to his guests.

Barney hesitated again, before silently retreating out the door. Blue Jaye could not hide the astonishment on her face. Serpentor quickly picked up on it and gave her a wink. Breaker interjected.

"Seems like you two have a close relationship?" She pried.

"Oh yes." Serpentor replied, leaning forward. "Barney is a reliable fellow. He allows me certain privileges for assisting him from time to time."

"Privileges?" Blue Jaye asked.

"She speaks!" Serpentor joked, giving Blue Jaye another wink. "Yes my dear. I help him out with the inmates upstairs. You know, when the gangs get stir crazy." He nodded up toward the ceiling.

"And you help get them sorted out?" Breaker asked.

"Oh yes, I'm quite the problem solver." Serpentor answered, leaning back on his chair.

The reinforced steel door opened, and Barney returned, carrying a tray of short paper cups and bags of chips. He set them down on the table returning to his spot. Blue Jaye saw the guard looked unamused at the entire situation.

Breaker removed a stack of folders. Opening the first, she laid a series of pictures on the table. The images were of deceased inmates, their prison jumpsuits stained in blood. Placing her hook on one of the pictures, she stared at Serpentor.

"Residents upstairs from the O'Malley gang I believe, out of Boston. It doesn't seem they took to well to your problem-solving tactics." Breaker pressed. Barney shuffled a bit in place. Serpentor's eyes narrowed.

"No. They didn't." He replied taking the picture and staring at it listlessly. "The romantic aurora of a warrior dissipates quickly when they are lying, sprawled out awkwardly, face down in their own blood, don't you agree?" He paused, looking at both Breaker and Blue Jaye. "I remember once, centuries ago, after a battle off the coast of present day Greece, watching the surf splash over the bodies of the dead. The soft foam, bubbled in and out of their armor, while every now and then, the turbulent sounds of a hungry shark, grabbed hold of one of the dead, and pulled them out to sea." Serpentor rambled on, his eyes glossed over.

Coming out of his trance, he grabbed a grape soda and a bag of chips. "So! What is the reason for this surprise visit?" He asked, taking a long sip.

Breaker removed another folder. Opening it, she took out a picture of the door with the image of the Vitruvian Woman. She also placed down a series of crime scene photos of Emily's victims.

Serpentor leaned in, focusing on the images. For the first time he was silent. Picking up a picture of one of the victims, he brought it close to his face. Blue Jaye spoke.

"We work in Lakeside, Vermont. My team is responsible for exploring an abandoned Cobra base. Last week, we uncovered this door. At the same time, a series of murders began in the nearby town." Blue Jaye said as Serpentor continued to stare at the picture. Slowly he placed the photo back on the table.

"Operation Culebra." He said to Breaker and Blue Jaye's surprise.

"Why would Cobra want to create another super soldier?" Breaker asked.

"Why do you think they would create another?" Serpentor answered with another question.

"Because two is better than one." Breaker answered quickly and sarcastically. Serpentor laughed aloud.

"True, but not quite." He replied.

"An upgrade." Blue Jaye said, breaking the silence. Serpentor gave her a glance cocking his head.

"Exactly. Version one was not to their liking so why not create a second to fix the kinks." Serpentor said.

"Are you admitting that you're flawed?" Breaker pressed.

"We'll I'm in here now aren't I?" Serpentor jokingly replied. "No. Destro believed that a true super soldier didn't have to be just a soldier. Destro wanted someone who was as successful as I was on the battlefield as well as in the boardroom. A people person as well as a leader. The ruthlessness, ego, the endless craving for power, these were areas he felt were too extreme." Serpentor said, gesturing to himself. "So he decided to create a second version. A woman."

"Why a woman?" Breaker asked.

"Because women have more sensibility, act less drastically. They can take much more emotional stress and physical pain then men, and their compassion outweighs the selfishness they saw growing in me." Serpentor replied truthfully looking at the pictures again. "But it looks like they failed." He said.

"How so?" Blue Jaye asked. Serpentor rearranged the pictures of Emily's victims on the table.

"I don't think you would call this a success, would you?" He inquired pointing at the photos.

"No, but she is alive and extremely dangerous and resourceful. So they got something right." Blue Jaye retorted.

"So what did Cobra do to change the formula?" Breaker interrupted. Serpentor leaned back further in his chair.

"I don't know. I've been in here for the past decade or so." Serpentor said, nodding at the walls around him. "But I know changing the formula would have been unwise."

"Why?" Breaker said, leaning in.

"The key to Destro's success was in the combination of DNA. He wanted it to act as a natural system of checks and balances. He knew that a warrior's genetic code was essential, but he also wanted non-violent entities. With me he said, I was too…conflicted." Serpentor replied with an uneasy smile.

"How so?" Blue Jaye asked.

"With each strand of DNA comes a lifetime of memories, emotions, fears, and desires. They come and go, sometimes as an intense and immobilizing vision. Others move through like a normal set of memories. The DNA combination that was chosen for me developed some violent characteristics that have only increased with time." He stated, still smiling. Barney tensed his arms behind him.

"So you think they got the formula wrong?" Breaker said.

"Possibly. But it's more likely they built her, leaving something out. The formula is incomplete." Serpentor replied. Breaker shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Why would you say that?" Blue Jaye asked. Serpentor pointed at a picture of one of her victims.

"Because I can see her inner turmoil. These killings look more like survival tactics. To me, it seems like she is fighting something inside her." He said.

"Fighting something, like a vision or memory from a past life, or DNA strand?" Blue Jaye asked. Serpentor smiled proudly.

"Exactly my dear. I have to say, the blue hair threw off my initial perception, but now I can see why you are here with the general. Yes, it seems like these killings are in self-defense, not for conquest, or sport." He said, winking at Blue Jaye.

"So how do we stop her?" Blue Jaye asked.

"By finding the missing piece of the formula of course." Serpentor replied with a laugh.

Blue Jaye felt a stone fall in the bottom of her stomach knowing that meant finding Joan of Arc's DNA. An impossible task.

"And if the missing piece doesn't exist?" Blue Jaye asked. Serpentor gave them another wide nefarious grin.

"Then, I would say you have a mighty large problem that needs solving." He replied with a final wink.

Chapter 24

Sherriff Smith pulled his cruiser to a stop at the entrance of Lakeside Cemetery. A series of rain clouds were passing by, providing a wavy gray background against the lines of tombstones. The tall metal arched gate was open wide beckoning them to enter onto the cement walkway.

Agent Oakley pushed open the passenger side door and planted her boot firmly into the growing mud. The Sherriff threw on a poncho, offering one to Oakley which she declined. Moving toward the gate, the Sherriff paused for a moment, a shudder of déjà vu freezing him in place. Oakley turned to him curiously.

"You ok Sherriff?" Oakley asked, her face cut and serious.

The Sherriff looked up and shook it off, walking over to meet up with Oakley. Her usual boisterous self had disappeared with the attack on Beachhead. The general was her mentor, and even a closer friend of her father. His grave condition had a sobering effect on her which was unnerving to him knowing what she was usually like. He had to focus so she could focus.

"Sorry. It's just that five years or so ago, I came here with Blue Jaye and Cricket on our first case so to speak. It was a similar day, raining and foreboding." He said, taking the lead down the narrow path which cut diagonally through the grave yard.

"How did it turn out?" Oakley asked, looking ahead at a tall sculpture of a revolutionary war soldier. The base of the statue had been gated off due to construction.

"We uncovered the underground Cobra base, and that mountain lion you found in the caves. It lead to Blue Jaye and Cricket becoming who they are now. And myself too I guess." He said, turning left down a row of tombstones.

At the far end, resting along the tree line was a modest mausoleum. The small rectangular edifice was topped with an arched dome. A large metal door was latched with a steel bolt lock, and a smooth granite marker spelled out HOSKINS in decorative font.

"Was the girl's family rich?" Oakley asked, taking in the impressive tomb.

"No, she was an orphan actually." The Sherriff said, removing a large metal key from his poncho. "Because her death was so sudden and tragic, and because she was so beloved in the community, her classmates organized a charity for her to be put to rest here." He said, unlatching the lock and pulling the thick steel door open.

Opening just enough for them to push through, the two slid in to the dry stone building, wiping themselves off from the rain. Pulling out a pair of small flashlights, the Sherriff and Oakley began examining the interior of the mausoleum. The inside was bare, except for two small stained glass windows on the left and right side by the ceiling. The Sherriff saw that the sun would shine a stream of color onto the cement casket lying in the middle of the room.

The Sherriff and Oakley walked around the coffin, examining the sides. On the floor by where Oakley was standing was a brass plaque. It was engraved with Emily's name, and the date of her birth and death. Below was a quote from a poem she had written in school. Consciousness Only Becomes Real Alone, Oakley read to herself before rising.

"It looks if we both push at either end in opposite direction, we can slide the top off enough to check to see if she in there." The Sherriff suggested, moving to the far end of the stone casket.

"Ok." Oakley agreed, positioning herself at the other end.

After counting down, both pushed, straining the solid rock to move. It scraped loudly to a halt and the Sherriff and Oakley paused. They had managed to move the top off enough to look in. Shining their flashlights, they peered to see if Emily's remains were there.

"Looks like Blue Jaye was on target as usual." Oakley exclaimed softly in her Texas drawl.

The casket was empty, except for a metal lockbox. Reaching down, the Sherriff removed the box and looked it over. It was a simple gray with a small lock.

"Hang on. I got that." Oakley said, removing a small buck knife from the inside of her jacket. Before the Sherriff could argue, she jammed it into the lock, and popped it open. Smiling, she replaced the knife.

"That's one way of doing it." The Sherriff said under his breath.

Opening, it, they found the box contained a U.S., French, and U.K. passport, three 10,000 straps of dollars and euros, three drivers' licenses, and a USB drive. The Sherriff picked up the USB drive and held his flashlight on it before giving it to Oakley.

"Get this to Cricket to analyze. You can take my cruiser. I'm gonna call Officer Sampson to meet me here to see if the roadblocks turned up anything. I'll then brief the mayor and set up a press conference. We can meet back at the station in couple hours to start figuring out which hotels and recently rented apartments we'll need to search." The Sherriff strategized aloud.

Oakley nodded her head walking out of the mausoleum and into the light rain. The Sherriff exited into the wet overcast day as another surge of déjà vu swept over him. He called out to Oakley as she had already put a dozen yards between them.

"Be careful out there Oakley. I have no idea how this will turn out." He warned. Oakley simply tipped her Stetson and turned, jogging out of the graveyard.

Chapter 25

Emily crouched down silently on the edge of the rain soaked forest. The sun had begun to shine again through the final string of clouds as beams of light shot down on the woodland floor. Removing a manual camera she purchased at the second hand store, Emily raised it to her face and adjusted the zoom.

A patch of brown maple leaves came into focus, and right above sat an alert tree frog. A set of eyelids blinked over each side of its head, its front legs twitching in anticipation. Taking the shot, Emily relaxed and rose as the frog scampered away under a fallen tree limb. Looking past the trees to the lake, Emily took in the outdoor air and closed her eyes, savoring the brief moment of peace.

Soon, she could hear the trampling of leaves behind her. Looking to her right, she saw the old landlord, looking at her with his cold expressionless face.

Immediately, she knew their cover was blown as she crouched down and took another picture. While a wisp of fear coursed through her, it dissipated as quickly as it arose. A plan had formed in her head, playing out like a film. She knew how to work this, Emily thought as she faced the old man with a kind smile.

"There have been reports on the news about two young fugitives on the run in town." He said, blatantly getting to the point. He stood about ten feet from Emily in the middle of the woods.

"What? I haven't heard. I don't watch TV." She said genuinely. Keeping the distance and silence between them, she patiently waited for him to reply.

"I have a friend who works in the Ecology department at Lakeside University. He checked and can't find any records of you, or your study." He stated plainly. The wrinkles on the outside of his eyes tensed as he narrowed his gaze.

"I'm not sure what database he was looking at, but I would be happy to have the department at UMass reach out to him or yourself." She suggested, taking a step toward him. Instinctually, he took a step back. Emily smiled again warmly. "Look, my university credentials are back at the apartment. I would be happy to show them to you. We can go check them out now if it would make you feel better." She said, taking another step. The old man took another step back and grunted.

"That would be fine." He said, leading the way back to the house cautiously.

Emily simply walked by his side, her attention solely focused on her camera and loading up another role of film. The old man looked her way from time to time, but she did not look up. By the time they reached the house he had relaxed his stride a bit. Opening the door to the garage, Emily fumbled in her pockets.

"Oh crap, I forgot. My assistant has the keys. Sorry." She said turning to the landlord apologetically. "I had planned to be out observing till he got back from town with some supplies." She said shrugging.

"Don't worry. I have a spare set here." The landlord replied. His alarm had returned and he pushed himself into the garage up the stairs to the apartment ahead of Emily.

Suddenly, his body was propelled forward. Without any time for him to react, his face slammed against the stairs breaking his nose and dislodging a few teeth. Wincing, he tried to turn, but his body refused, dropping him to one knee. A heavy weight was pressing against his back between his shoulder blades and he felt a warm wetness sliding down his back. Slowly, the weight was replaced with a searing pain, like burning. He wanted to cry out, but his vision began to cloud and with it, everything seemed like it was getting farther and farther away.

Emily watched the old man try to get up with the last of his strength before he fell backwards down the stairwell. His lifeless body spread out by her feet. Reaching down, she removed her hatchet blade from his back.

The door to the apartment burst open and Chris stood, looking down the stairs in shock. Emily glanced up to him and watched his mouth begin to move, but she was now in a far distant place. Her eyes had glossed over and the familiar sound of war drums beat in rhythm with her heart.

"Emily? What's going on? What did you do?" Chris asked as tears began to run down his face. Emily stared at him laggardly.

"Who's Emily?" She replied.

Chapter 26

Washington DC

Blue Jaye and Breaker walked out of the gate into Reagan National Airport in DC. A bustling crowd of men and women in business suits with small rolling bags zig-zagged around families and other airport personnel heading for their gates. A female voice bellowed out above them on the speakers, listing off a flight along with a slew of passenger names.

The two made their way through until Breaker found an empty bench in a short hallway between gates. Blue Jaye sat down next to her, wondering why they had stopped. Breaker stared dead ahead through a large window, looking out at the tarmac and a string of planes getting in line to taxi. Breaker then put her right hand into her medium-sized duffle and brought out a small wooden box.

At first glance, Blue Jaye knew the box was old by the smooth wear that had stained the wood over the years. It was simple design, with a flip cover and a small lock. Three letters, A.R.K., were carved on the top. Removing a set of keys from her jacket, Breaker found a tiny brass one and unlocked the case.

Inside were two folded pictures and a small plastic tube. Unfolding the photos, she held one up so Blue Jaye could see. The image was of a young girl who Blue Jaye eventually recognized was Breaker. She had both of her arms and was hugging an older man, who Jaye assumed was her father.

"This is my father, the original Breaker so to speak. It was taken the summer before he went on his last mission, when her first uncovered Project Culebra. Even though the mission was successful, complications made him go off the grid. I thought he was dead for over twenty years until he finally reached out." Breaker said, holding the photo gently. Carefully placing it back in the box, she removed the next picture.

This image was a photo of a painting. Immediately Blue Jaye recognized it was a painting of Joan of Arc. The Lady of Orleans was kneeling, looking up to the heavens with a warm yearning. Her face was a soft cream and her hair was partially tucked back into her armor. She held her sword on her lap, resting it on a vibrant red tunic.

"Joan of Arc by Sir Everett Millais. Commissioned in 1865." Breaker stated.

"It's beautiful." Blue Jaye replied, admiring the painting.

"It is. The red tunic was also rumored to be made with a paint mixed with the blood of Joan of Arc." Breaker said softly. Blue Jaye's pupils widened as she took a closer look at the photo. "Before her last battle, Joan of Arc and a select group of knights met for communion. Joan bled herself into a chalice which they all drank. One of the surviving knights took the chalice with her blood and mixed it with clay to form a crucifix. The crucifix stayed in the knight's family for generations until it was given to Sir Millais to incorporate into this painting." Breaker finished, waiting for Blue Jaye to respond.

"Does the painting still exist?" Blue Jaye asked.

"Not the original. That was my father's last mission. He had uncovered the plot to create a second Serpentor and knew Destro would go for the painting. He and another agent were able to destroy it before it fell into their hands." Breaker answered.

Blue Jaye looked dejected. Then, her head shot up.

"So that explains the missing piece and why Emily is acting out in violence. She can't control it, not without a set of DNA that would balance those impulses, those emotions." Blue Jaye said quickly, her brain connecting the dots.

"Correct." Breaker said, encouraging Blue Jaye to continue.

"But that is what Cobra wanted with this new super soldier. They didn't want to incorporate a series of checks and balances that would rationalize her actions. That would be contrary to their desire to create a killing machine." Blue Jaye rambled on. Breaker simply nodded.

"They never intended to complete the formula. For them, it was complete without Joan of Arc's DNA." Blue Jaye paused as an idea came to her. "But if we had Joan of Arc's DNA, it might subdue her primal instincts." She finished, looking blankly at the tile floor.

"There's only one way to find out." Breaker said, holding up the small plastic tube that was also in the box.

"What's that?" Blue Jaye asked watchfully.

"Before the painting was destroyed, my father was able to obtain a small sample of the red paint used for Joan of Arc's tunic." She said, carefully handing over the tube to Blue Jaye before placing the box back in her bag and standing up. Blue Jaye looked up. Her mouth was open but she was speechless.

"I have to head back to headquarters to give them an update. I will contact you after the debrief. Take that sample to Cricket to process and hopefully synthesize." Breaker stated.

"Synthesize into what?" Blue Jaye asked, still looking at the tube in her hand.

"Into a distribution method. I am thinking a bullet, or arrow." Breaker replied cocking an eye at Blue Jaye before turning to leave.

Blue Jaye looked at Breaker walk toward the baggage terminal. Still floored, she looked down at the small plastic tube. Giving it a slight shake, she heard the sound of paint chips rustle inside. Her head shot up as Breaker called back to her.

"Good luck Jaye. You'll only have one shot at this." General Breaker said before turning and walking away.

Chapter 27

The green and gray Lakeside Police cruiser rattled over washboards on the muddy drive heading to the old boatyard. The wet forest floor glistened off rays of light that broke through the leaved canopy. The Sherriff whipped the steering wheel left trying his best to avoid the annual pot holes from mud season.

Agent Oakley sat in the passenger seat, looking at a folded newspaper open to the classifieds. A series of advertisements were circled and crossed off with varying colors of ink. The tip of her pen was resting on and ad circled for a small mother-in-law apartment for rent by the boatyard. Deputy Sampson reported that the classified was the only one the police had not checked. He also stated that they had been unsuccessful at getting a hold of the landlord.

The Sherriff knew that the seasoned Vermonters who lived in the boatyard never left their properties for long. They should have easily been able to connect with him. Sensing something was up, the Sherriff offered to check in on the house with Oakley.

Knowing what they might possibly head into, he made sure Deputy Sampson and a slew of other officers just a call away, ready to provide backup if needed. The Sherriff was hoping it wouldn't come to that, but something in his gut told him otherwise. Pulling the sedan to a stop by the entrance to the lake homes, the Sherriff and Oakley got out, silently looking toward the lake.

"The house is over this way." The Sherriff said somberly heading to the home.

Oakley followed right behind. Reaching down to her holster, she gently snapped open the leather over her right pistol. Grabbing the pearl handle, she moved defensively behind the Sherriff as they approached the house. Removing his own sidearm, the Sherriff turned to her and nodded, before wrapping his fist on the door.

"Mr. Greenburg?" Sherriff Smith shouted as they waited. The only thing they heard was a few loud caws of passing seagulls. The Sherriff repeated himself, as they continued to wait.

When it was obvious no one was responding, they started to move around the house, looking in the windows. Oakley peered in to see a plain living room with a ripped recliner in front of a tube TV. Inside, it was dark and quiet. The Sherriff checked out back, peering into the kitchen. A fifties-style steel and linoleum table was tucked in a corner next to an antique stove and Frigidaire fridge. The lights were off, and the table and counters were bare. Oakley and the Sherriff met back at the front of the house.

"Not sure about the second floor, but it appears as empty as a barrel after a rodeo." Oakley said in her Texas drawl.

"I didn't see any evidence inside of foul play did you?" The Sherriff asked. Oakley shook her head no. "Ok, well, then we can't go inside." He said, wondering what to do next.

Looking around, he spied the old two-story garage. There were two windows on the second floor with a small metal chimney protruding out the far side. He walked over slowly.

"The add said it was a mother-in-law apartment for rent correct?" He asked.

"That's what it said." Oakley replied, following the Sherriff's train of thought.

After circling the brick and wooden structure, it appeared the only entrance other than the shuttered garage door was a small side door. Peering through the half window, the Sherriff saw a body sprawled out in a pool of dark blood.

Slamming his back against the side of the building, he motioned for Oakley to do the same. Drawing both her Colts, she spun the cylinders cocking them. Softly, he grabbed his radio and called Sampson for backup. With a head motion to follow his lead, the Sherriff backed away slowly before spinning around and kicking the door in.

With a blast of splinters and a crack of broken glass the door swung wide as the Sherriff burst into the garage. Aiming up the stairs he moved forward toward the body as Oakley covered his right, slowly advancing toward the back of the garage. Crouching down by the body he could see it was an elderly man, probably the landlord. There was a visible gash between his shoulder blades. His ripped jacket partially covered the gore. The Sherriff rose slowly, watching Oakley as she moved deeper into the garage.

Then, they both heard a sound of metal scraping in the far right corner. Oakley's head snapped back to the Sherriff who was advancing toward her with his gun trained on the clutter.

"Come on out of there with your hands up! We've got the place surrounded! You've got nowhere to go!" The Sherriff commanded as he positioned himself in front of a rusty metal barrel. Oakley came to his side, her arms extended holding both pistols. Whoever was in there was hiding behind the barrel. A string of police sirens grew louder as their back up arrived.

"Come out now!" The Sherriff commanded again, this time kicking the bottom of the barrel.

"Don't shoot!" Came a weakened plea.

Slowly, Chris Sabel stood up, his hands raised and trembling. His face was covered in dirt and he looked terrified and disheveled.

"She killed him! She killed them all! But it wasn't her. It wasn't Emily." Chris started rambling on as a stream of tears poured down his reddened face. "She was something else, there was something else inside of her!" He yelled as he rushed out and wrapped his arms around the Sherriff, shaking.

"It wasn't her! It wasn't her!" He kept saying until he lost control of his legs and fell to the floor.

The Sherriff caught him and held him tightly. Not knowing what to do, he began to tenderly caress the boys head. Chris continued to try to pull himself into the Sherriff's body for safety. The Sherriff looked to Oakley not knowing what do to. Oakley looked into the boys eyes. Holstering her side arms, she felt for him as he continued to sob uncontrollably. The sound of tires screeching to a stop came from outside as Sampson and the other officers arrived. The boy howled at the top of his lungs. The Sherriff quickly radioed for his men to cut their sirens as he continued to hold the boy.

"It's ok, son. It's going to be ok." The Sherriff said.

But the trauma branded into the boys head, his frozen stare, and the fact that he would simply not stop shaking told the Sherriff he was never going to be ok. Ever again. He just embraced him tighter, trying to sooth and calm his nerves.

Chis only swayed like a pendulum with no plans of stopping, shivering and repeating to himself, "It wasn't her. It wasn't her."

Chapter 28

The sun hung low over the lake as the spring day fell into evening. Emily Hoskins was lying on a tree limb that looked out over an edge of Lakeside Cemetery. Camouflaged by an abundance of newly sprouted leaves, Emily slid out on the branch, examining the small cement mausoleum nestled in by the trees.

Three police officers were positioned around the tomb in front of crisscrossed lines of yellow tape. They were approximately thirty yards away, and Emily could see them smiling and talking to each other. While there was an opportunity to take them off guard, she was unsure if she could cover the distance in time to take out all three.

Taking a deep breath, she let out a chorus of caws, imitating a crow fighting for its territory. Looking up, she noticed two of the officers were staring in her direction. She cut into a sharp shriek, like an animal was being attacked before falling silent. Sliding back on the branch a bit, she could see the officers taking a few steps in her direction.

Luring them closer, she broke out into another series of caws, followed by another violent cry. The most curious officer put a hand on the butt of his gun and cautiously approached the tree line. His two partners followed behind him. Emily reached behind her and pulled her hatchet off her belt to her side.

The policeman was a few yards from the tree line. Emily could see his young eyes set above his wide cheeks. He pursed his lips nervously as he peered into the forest. Tensing her legs around the branch, Emily let out another series of calls.

All of the officers jumped back, scared and taken aback. The curious officer drew his gun, the barrel pointed beyond the swaying branches of the trees. He took couple steps forward, almost directly under Emily and the tall maple she was perched on.

Silently, she reached into her jacket pocket and removed the small pouch of human scalps. In synch with the next breeze that shuddered through the woods, Emily tossed it out onto the graveyard grass in front of the other two officers. One of them picked it up and opened it.

Dropping it on the ground like it was on fire, the officer jumped back and yelled to the first, drawing his weapon simultaneously. Grasping her hatchet, Emily let out a yelp, looking down at the officer positioned below her.

He raised his head just in time to see her dropping down. Slamming him down flat on his stomach, he let out a forced cough as the air bellowed from his lungs. Pounding her heel on the lower back of his skull, Emily snapped the officer's neck in two as she hurled her hatchet at another who had drawn his sidearm. It lodged in his chest, knocking him awkwardly upright.

Impulsively, the injured officer grabbed the handle of the axe with both hands before doubling over onto the grass. Ducking left and right between and over tombstones, Emily raced to close the distance between her and the last officer. Taken completely off guard by the sudden ultraviolence, the policeman fumbled for his weapon. Leaping to cover the last two yards, Emily kicked the gun from his hands before delivering an open palmed punch to his throat.

Falling backward, the officer writhed on the grass below a marble tombstone. Emily walked over and picked up her hatchet. Casually walking to the policeman gasping for life, she whipped her axe down until his body stopped moving.

Rising, she looked around to see if anyone had seen the attack. She was the only one in the cemetery. But it wouldn't be for long. Eventually, another officer would come to check in or relieve one of the ones she killed.

Swiftly, she dragged their bodies over to the mausoleum. Wrenching open the door, she pulled them inside and wedged the door secure. Walking over to the casket in the middle of the tomb, she crouched down by the metal plaque drilled into the floor. Consciousness Only Becomes Real Alone, Emily said aloud, reading the inscription.

Searching the base of the casket, she found a small carving of a Cobra head on the bottom corner. Pushing it, the metal plaque moved to the side, exposing a hole. A metal ladder descended into the blackness. Slowly, Emily lowered herself in, making sure to replace the plaque above her.

Chapter 29

The sun had set over the lake thirty minutes ago, but a soft pink glow still hung onto the sky providing the last traces of dusk. Blue Jaye pulled her jeep to a stop in front of Doctor Branson's house, which was roped off with yellow police tape. She looked down the driveway, past the two cruisers parked in single file.

During the flight back to Lakeside, she was preoccupied with the meeting with Serpentor, and the vile given to her by Breaker which supposedly contained the blood of Joan of Arc. She had already reported back to Cricket, and the rest of the team was assembling back at the base for a formal debrief. In addition to her updates, Blue Jaye was floored when she heard the Sherriff and Oakley located Emily Hoskins previous boyfriend among the corpse of her latest victim.

Apparently, she had let him live. From what the Sherriff and Oakley had reported, the boy Chris said it seemed like Emily was under a trance, and came out of it for a second to apologize to him before running off into the woods. The Sherriff's men had been searching the boatyard and forest for the past few hours but had turned up nothing.

The Sherriff and Oakley did find a USB drive in Emily's mausoleum which Cricket was trying to decrypt. So far, the drive uncovered two of the DNA strands that were mapped to Emily's genome. The first was from an Apache warrior named Lozen. Doing a quick search online, Blue Jaye had read Lozen was a seasoned warrior who had a supposed 'second sight' when predicting her enemy's movements. The other was Fu Hao, also known as Lady Hao who lived during the time of the Shang dynasty. A military general, she was a wife of Wu Ding, and served as a high priestess.

Researching all the facts her team uncovered, she could only imagine the amount of strength and resources Emily possessed. Overpowering her seemed like as futile as trying to outsmart her. Blue Jaye guessed the answer was somewhere in the middle.

An officer had leaned over outside of her jeep and wrapped the back of his hand on the driver side window. Blue Jaye jumped and gave out a yelp as she was jerked from her train of thought. Frustratingly rolling down the window, she showed the officer her credentials before he apologetically waved and backed away from her car.

Trying to regain her focus, Blue Jaye thought back to the meeting she and Breaker had with the original Serpentor. From Emily's actions, letting Chris live revealed something. Someone inside her was fighting back. Blue Jaye suspected it was Emily herself who was trying to keep control of whatever was trying to take her over. Chris was the only person so far that she had let go. Maybe it was becoming a trend? If they had the opportunity to inject her with the DNA of Joan of Arc, they could possibly right the balance and give Emily the control she was battling for.

Thinking back to the other victims each one made sense to Blue Jaye except Doctor Branson. The library and the baseball field were clearly acts of self-defense. Even the attack on Beachhead and the latest killing at the boatyard seemed to be in self-preservation.

But Doctor Branson? He would have been in a position to help her, rather than harm her. Why did she kill him then? Was he a threat? If so, what did he do to provoke her?

Those questions had jarred at the inside of her skull since she had touched down at the airport. There had to be some evidence. Opening her phone, she maneuvered to the case file, flipping through to the report on the Branson murder. Swiping through the photos, she passed the images of the body and focused on the investigation of the home. After an extensive search, there was nothing, no relatable papers, documents on his computer, not even a safe. A search of his office came up with nothing of importance either.

Blue Jaye knew though, that Branson was a high-level stakeholder in the experiment. There had to be something somewhere. The only other place she could think of was in the carriage house where Emily had stuffed his body.

Getting out of her jeep, she reached back in and grabbed her bow and quiver. She held the bow in front of her before slinging it over her shoulder, remembering the day Spirit gave it to her. It was right before her final training assignment and it had been in his family for generations. Its name was Sparrow Hawk, and its smooth wooden frame felt warm in her hands.

Initially training to be a journalist, she never thought something like a bow and arrow would prove useful to her, but it had in fact gotten her out of more jams then she would have ever thought possible. She never had any trouble shooting it, and like Spirit had hinted when he gave it to her, she had developed a kinship with it.

Trudging past the police cruisers, she came face to face with the carriage house. The night had enveloped the last shred of sunlight and she turned on her flashlight as she walked into the empty stone garage. The walls were bare rock and brick with aging reinforced wooden beams. The entire structure was empty except for a small hearth and wood stove on the right side of the building.

On the ground below the stove was stained with blood and scattered with small evidence flags where they found the body. Blue Jaye closed her eyes and tried to remember as much of the crime scene when she and the Sherriff arrived the day before.

She remembered when they arrived at the house, there was a large pool of blood on the driveway with a trail heading into the carriage house. They had both suspected the murder happened at night, since no one would have seen the blood. Opening back up her phone, Blue Jaye searched to the case file, bringing up a photo of the blood stain and trail. She then swiped to a photo of the victim, lying on an autopsy table.

The wound was directly in his chest. Blue Jaye figured he fell on his stomach, and was then dragged into the garage. She stood where Branson would have fallen from the attack and realized he fell with his back to the carriage house. He was facing Emily. Maybe, she did kill him in self-defense, because he attacked her first? Blue Jaye thought running back into the garage. Her instincts were going off like an alarm and she started feeling the stone walls, whipping her flashlight on any crevice.

He was leading her out here when he attacked her, she continued to rattle off in her brain as she searched the beams. Leading her to what? Her mind was racing as she moved toward the shelf above the stove.

On the shelf was a vintage catcher's glove and ball, a stack of Auto World magazines, and a copper plated plaque, bolted to a stone. It was inscribed in cursive and read, Consciousness Only Becomes Real Alone. Blue Jaye stared at the quote, trying to think if she had read it before.

Then, all her questions were answered. Looking past the words, she knew what it read. Focusing on the first letter of each word, she spoke aloud.

"Cobra." She whispered to herself.

Dropping to her knees, she started examining the ground. It was five years ago when she found the first tunnel that lead to the underground Cobra base. Back then, she found a similar inscription. Like this one, the first letters of each word spelled out Cobra. She knew that hidden nearby, she would find a small Cobra insignia that would trigger a door to an underground passageway.

Shifting over to the base of the wall, she felt the stone and brick as it connected with the cement floor. It was smooth except for one spot. Shining her flashlight, she saw a brick that was scarred, with round jagged edges.

Reaching into her jacket, she removed a small canteen. Screwing it open, she splashed the rock with water. Shining her flashlight back on the wet spot, she could clearly see the outline of a Cobra hood. Getting her balance, she pushed onto the brick with both hands. As she thought, the brick moved inward and down as the sound of concrete sliding against concrete screeched, revealing a hole in the corner of the carriage house.

About a foot-and-a-half in width, Blue Jaye shone her light into the darkness. The small passageway went on for a few feet before descending down a set of stone steps. Removing Sparrow Hawk from her shoulder, she strung the bow with an explosive tipped arrow before disappearing into the tunnel.

Chapter 30

Communications Officer Cricket and Zanya were in the observation room hundreds of feet below the surface in the underground base. Cricket was on one side of a large pane of shatter proof glass. A wired basket of tennis balls rested by her feet and her crutches. On the far side of the room was the mountain lion, lowering its front shoulders as it playfully hopped side-to-side, waiting for Cricket to toss another ball. Zanya stood on the other side of the protective glass watching intently.

"Why did you choose ant intelligence when reprograming it?" Zanya asked.

"It's not an 'it.' His name is Lionel." Cricket corrected Zanya. Then, she yelled "Lionel! Ball ball!" Pointing back at Zanya before flinging a yellow tennis ball toward the cat. Leaping forward, the cat swung its right arm forward, paw facing up and connected with the ball, sending it rocketing off the glass in front of Zanya' face. Zanya stood motionless, raising her robotic hand to the glass where a clear dent had formed on the other side.

"I really can't see me calling him that." Zanya joked back at Cricket who had picked up another ball. The large cougar started to bounce back and forth happily. Ignoring Zanya, Cricket continued.

"Ants are one of the most successful species on earth. In addition to surviving for millions of years, they have colonized on every continent except Antarctica. Contrary to thinking they work with a hive mind, they demonstrate extreme individual intelligence. Lionel! Ball, ball!" Cricket said before tossing another ball. Lionel backed up before quickly pouncing, sending the ball ricocheting against the glass. "Like mammals, they care for their family, take advice from more experienced brethren, and are altruistic. Ants will spend hours helping a peer, even at great risk to themselves." Cricket said, turning back to Zanya.

"So you programmed this way of thinking to override the previous Cobra directives." Zanya asked.

"In a simple version, yes. Ant intelligence also translated easier with the recoding process. It was a natural fit in fact. Ants respond immediately to new situations. They can adjust to different levels of threats, and decide how aggressive they should be, in addition to how much energy they should expend. I removed the B.A.T. technology and instead, implanted a much smaller chip that will regulate his impulses and to relay commands. But most of the time, he acts just like a normal cat who wants to sleep, play, and is desperate for attention." Cricket continued before another ball shot passed her face slamming against the window.

Whipping her head around, she saw Lionel, playfully ducking his head down, pawing at a tennis ball that had rolled by him on the floor. Jumping back, he swiftly struck his paw against it, sending it flying to the left of Cricket.

"Ok, ok, hang on ya' big fur ball." Cricket said to Lionel as she threw another ball. She turned back to Zanya. "Did you want to come in and throw some to him?" She asked.

Zanya quickly and silently shook her head.

"That's too bad. I think he really likes you." Cricket said laughing as she threw another ball.

Suddenly, a series of quick beeps came from their tactical watches. Both Cricket and Zanya looked down before at each other.

"The decryption script has finished its scan of the USB. Looks like it found something." Cricket said, heading for the door.

Lionel curiously followed her out the door, sensing something was up. In the control room, the left and center monitor displayed a series of names and bios. They included Zenobia, Khutulan, Amina, and the last name read Emily Hoskins.

"These must be the rest of the DNA that were mapped to Emily's genome." Cricket said, dropping her arm crutches on the counter and slumping in her chair.

Grabbing the keyboard, she quickly typed a series of commands. As she did, the images on the screen toggled to a new set of images and files. A folder was displayed in the center screen, showing a date of 1989. The scan indicated the file had been restored. It was titled IVF_McCullen.

A few more keystrokes and Cricket opened the file bringing up a series of images. On the screen were a dozen photos of young women holding babies. The images were in black and white and the woman wore dresses that Cricket placed around the late 1970s. Perplexed, the two stared at the photos in silence. Lionel began to purr, rubbing his head on the side of Cricket's chair.

The proximity alarm then rang out, shattering the silence as their hearts shot up into their throats.

"What the hell is that?" Zanya yelled out above the churning siren.

Cricket quickly typed on the keyboard. Lionel had perked up in a stout sitting position.

"It's the proximity alarm from the motions sensors we set up in the cave monitoring the door." Cricket said quickly, bringing up the feed from the computer.

The image displayed the large door with the carving of Da Vinci's Vitruvian Woman. Cricket looked at the large stalactites that hung from the ceiling above the door began to shake. A few large tips cracked off and crashed to the ground in an explosion of dust. The door was opening.

Coming apart at the center, the entire door opened, splitting the Vitruvian Woman in two. Cricket and Zanya stared as a small figure emerged into the cavern. With a few more clicks on the keyboard, Cricket zoomed in. They watched as Emily Hoskins stepped out of the shadows holding her war axe. She looked up at the high natural ceiling, taking in her surroundings.

"Holy shit." Cricket exclaimed. "It's her. It's Emily Hoskins, the new Serpentor." She whispered in shock.

"How far out are the Sherriff and Oakley? Blue Jaye?" Zanya asked quickly. Refocusing, Cricket rapidly entered a few more commands into the keyboard.

"Oakley and the Sherriff are fifteen minutes out. Blue Jaye reported in twenty minutes ago saying she was heading our way." Cricket said, looking at Zanya not knowing what to do.

"Then it's up to us." Zanya said, her voice steady and calm.

Running back into the weapons room, Zanya passed the lines of automatic weapons. She had recognized some of those names of the women's DNA that were mapped to Emily. With her fighting skills, bullets would be too clumsy. Instead, she would need to select something more dexterous and graceful. Pulling out a vertical shelf, she grabbed a M43 machete and ran back into the control room. Cricket looked at her cautiously, staring at her robot hand gripping the handle of the blade.

"What do you intend to do?" Cricket asked alertly.

"I need to buy us some time for backup to arrive. I'm the only one on the team with the hand-to-hand combat skills to give us a chance." Zanya said before putting her real hand on Cricket's shoulder. "Please, trust me." She said before running out of the control room toward the tunnels to face Emily.

"Wait!" Cricket shouted behind her.

Cursing to herself, she grabbed her crutches and walked to another console in the back of the room. As she started typing into the keyboard, Lionel's large feline head started to cock back and forth. Cricket then turned to the Catamount. Maneuvering over to him, she crouched down on the floor and scratched the side of his head under his ears before giving him a big hug. Lionel pushed his head into her embrace.

"Ok, boy. Let's show 'em what you're made of." She whispered in his ear.

At that, the cat jumped back and in two leaps crashed through the window of the control room door, following Zanya out toward the tunnels. Cricket grabbed her crutches and righted herself up as quickly as she could shouting after the cat.

"I was going to open the door for you, you big clumsy fur-ball!" She shouted, before sitting back down and activating Zanya's eye and ear pieces.

Chapter 31

Zanya raced down the underground tunnel, side-stepping over rocks and puddles. It was dark, but her eyepiece had activated its nighttime mode, allowing her to see through the blackness. Her robotic hand gripped the handle of the machete as she thought of the best way to attack. She had learned how to use a blade when she was a child with disciplined lessons from her father. He had been a swordsman's apprentice for an ancient clan of warriors and he had taught her everything he knew. Now, Zanya was just hoping it was enough to buy them the time they needed for backup to arrive.

She had only glanced at the data from the USB the Sherriff and Oakley retrieved, but from what she had gleaned, the DNA Cobra harvested scared her. Fear. It was an emotion that Zanya had not felt for a long time. Fear of losing her life, losing the next opportunity to see her son, losing her team, it reminded her of something Blue Jaye had said to her when she joined the Joes.

"You can't be brave unless you're scared." She had told her. Zanya had never thought of it like that before. She knew she was brave, but since joining the team, she had never known what true bravery felt like.

"You're about ten yards from the entrance to the cavern." Cricket stated in her earpiece, bringing her back to the moment.

Zanya saw a proximity alert appear in her eye piece as she slowed to the lower opening in the cave. They had burrowed a side entrance to keep better surveillance of the door. Stopping at the mouth of the entrance, a scan began, searching for Emily. She had destroyed all the lights and cameras and it was only Zanya and Emily standing apart from each other in the darkness. Zanya could see Emily's silhouette directly in front of her, swaying back and forth, raising her machete in her hand.

"I know you're here. I can see you." A calm, female voice called out to her. Zanya took a defensive step forward.

"Who are you? Emily? Lozen? Fu Hao?" Zanya asked cautiously taking another step forward.

The shape in front of her stopped. Zanya knew she was getting through to her. Now, she just needed to keep it cool.

"Look. The last thing I want is a fight. Please, we are here to help." She pleaded.

"Who's we?" Emily asked, now advancing toward Zanya.

"We, the good guys. Please. We can help." Zanya said, watching the form continue to move toward her.

"I am far from good." The woman stated. They were now only a few yards apart from one another.

"But Emily Hoskins was good. She wouldn't want this. Is Emily there? Can I talk to her?" Zanya asked, gripping her machete as tight as she could.

Her eyepiece started conducting a biometrics scan on Emily. She had stopped again, and her heart rate and blood pressure had elevated. Cricket's voice came over Zanya's earpiece again.

"Looks like you might have gotten to her." Cricket stated hopefully.

Then, the biometrics showed Emily's readings had returned to their previous state. Zanya could see the outline of her hatchet as she pulled it back, ready to attack.

"No. Emily is not able to talk." The woman's voice replied. Zanya saw she had shifted her weight to her back leg.

"Then I guess we're done talking." Zanya stated as she threw her machete to her side and ran to attack.

"Zee, wait!" Cricket shouted through her earpiece but it was too late.

Emily threw down her hatchet as Zanya swiftly side-stepped away. Crouching down into a squat, she delivered an elbow to Emily's side, followed by a kick to the thigh and stomach. Spinning, she lashed out with her machete.

Blocking with her hatchet, Emily pushed the blade downward, twisting it out of the way. With Zanya's chest exposed, Emily drew the axe up for another blow. Reaching up defensively, Zanya blocked the attack with her robotic forearm. The impact knocked her to her knees. If her arm wasn't synthetic, it would have definitely broken in two.

Still vulnerable, Zanya took another shot to the ribs, hearing a muffled crack under her jacket. Feeling herself begin to lose consciousness, she tried to meditate, focusing away from the searing pain in her side. Taking a few steps back, they both began to circle each other slowly.

"Finally." Emily stated calmly. "My first worthy adversary since I fought that old dying soldier a day ago." She changed her grip on her hatchet.

Zanya slid her right left back, building her balance. Then, with everything her father had taught her, she charged.

Striking fast, she twisted her sword into a figure eight, jumping up and lashing down in a move called the horned deer. Surprised, Emily brought her hatchet up to block in a flurry of sparks that lit up the cave. Zanya then jumped back and forth on each side of Emily, ducking and leaping into the position of the snow fox. She kicked low, giving Emily a shot to the hip. Hopping back, she watched as Emily grabbed her side with a groan.

"Well done Arashikage." She said, righting herself up. "Now, let me show you what I know." Emily stated before hurling her axe end over end at Zanya point blank.

Instinctually, Zanya raised her robotic arm as the hatchet blade sunk deep into the metal and wiring. A slew of sparks erupted and Zanya stumbled back. Closing the distance between them in a single leap, Emily gave a forceful jab into Zanya's left side.

Zanya let out a pained cough, swinging her machete up clumsily. Emily easily blocked and dropped and spun, taking Zanya's legs out from under her. Rolling over, Emily locked her legs around Zanya and contorted into a sideways summersault, throwing her into a large boulder.

Trying to get up, Zanya fell to the ground. With fading vision, she could see Emily moving closer. Pushing herself into a seated position, she closed her eyes and waited for the end.

Suddenly, the lights came back on from high above. She could see Emily standing a few steps in front of her, looking up at the flood lights, perplexed. Then, a low growl came from the opening of the cave. Emily looked into the darkness.

After another growl, Lionel, the mountain lion came out of the shadows. Head down and mouth opened, the cat panted through his jaws. His eyes were on Emily, who was now backing up, her hatchet by her side. Lionel then lowered his head almost completely to the ground, the muscles in his hind legs tensing.

With a screeching roar, he attacked. Emily threw her hatchet with an incredible velocity. Spinning through the air, Lionel caught the axe between its teeth. Whipping his head to the side, he threw the weapon out of reach. Lowering his head down again, he slowly began to advance.

Zanya saw that Emily was now completely focused on the Catamount. Looking to her right, she saw a rock about the size of a football. Picking it up with both hands she threw it toward Lionel with all the strength she had left.

"Lionel! Ball-ball!" Zanya shouted pointing to Emily.

Emily looked at Zanya and then followed the rolling stone confused as the cat ran toward it. Swiping his paw down, Lionel smacked the rock forward, propelling it toward Emily. Hitting her directly in the face, the rock exploded into pieces as Emily was knocked off her feet. She landed on the ground unconscious as Lionel walked over cautiously to smell her.

The large cat then happily trotted over to Zanya and nuzzled its large furry head into her chest. Giving out a few pained laughs, Zanya gave the golden lion some much deserved snuggles.

"Good boy, Lionel. Good boy." She said.

"See! I told you he liked you!" Cricket said happily over Zanya's earpiece.

"Zee!" Came a shout from the other side of the cave.

Coming out of the large door was Blue Jaye, Sparrow Hawk strung in here arms. She ran over to them.

"Where did you come from?" Zanya asked, throwing her arm around Blue Jaye's shoulder, painfully rising to her feet.

"Through a tunnel I found at Doctor Branson's." Blue Jaye said as she looked down at Emily.

"She won't be out long." Zanya said.

Staring up toward the large stalactites hanging from the ceiling of the cave, Blue Jaye raised her bow and fired. The arrow shot high into the darkness before she heard the blast as the tip of her arrow exploded. A heap of rock and dust fell in front of the door, until it was completely covered.

"Come on, we've got to get out of here." Blue Jaye said, watching as Emily began to stir.

With Zanya over her shoulder and Lionel leading the way, they walked back through the tunnel entrance. Setting a charge on the wall, Blue Jaye hurried them down before detonating it, collapsing the tunnel behind them, effectively sealing and trapping Emily off. Tapping her earpiece, Blue Jaye spoke.

"Cricket. Contact General Breaker. Let her know that we have captured the suspect and will report once the entire team has rendezvoused back at base." Blue Jaye stated.

"You got it boss." Cricket stated.

"Yo Joe." Blue Jaye said quietly, looking at Zanya who was smiling, holding her side.

"Yo Joe." Zanya whispered, giving Lionel a pat on the head.

Part 3: Defense

Chapter 32

Boston, Massachusetts

MacArthur S. Ito, formerly known as Agent Quick Kick, trotted back the other end of the court, his lips curled tight around a referees whistle. Heading toward the baseline, Ito watched the intermural youth squad form Phil Jackson's famed triangle offense, moving into new positions, creating wedges in the court, trying to free up space for the open shot. An upcoming player, sixteen year old Rosita Angel swung a pass to the high point before exploding down the lane. Grabbing the feed dished by her teammate, she jumped, double clutching to take the bump as her shot kissed softly off the glass.

Ito blew the whistle as he raised his right arm high above his head, bringing it down quickly in front of him, signaling an and-one foul. The boy who bumped Rosita spun around in disbelief. Ito shot him a glare, sending the youth shaking his head as he took his place alongside the lane line as Rosita lined up for a foul shot.

Over thirty years ago, he and his teammate Breaker were forced off the team and had to live off the grid, severing their ranks and all ties to known family and friends. For the first five years, Ito had recuperated from multiple gunshot wounds. Laps in the pool and trips to the local park to shoot hoops helped both his physical and mental rehabilitation.

Instead of focusing on the negative, Ito decided it was best to move on, and got a job in the kitchen of a restaurant in Chinatown, Boston. Starting as a dishwasher, he slowly began to learn how to cook, moving up the ladder and eventually became the head sous chef. The owner, Mr. Fu Da, took an immediate liking to Ito and his love for basketball. Though Ito was a diehard Lakers fan, the two would stay after hours drinking and bantering about the famed Celtics Lakers rivalry.

A few years ago, Mr. Fu Da passed away of lung cancer, and having no extended family, gave his restaurant to Ito. Finding peace, Ito managed the restaurant happily while creating and refereeing for an intermural basketball league for inner-city youths. As the buzzer for halftime sounded, Ito patted the players who passed them on the backs, encouraging them to keep hydrated.

Hearing the large double doors of the community gym slam open and shut, Ito froze in place as he watched the man who entered walk casually over to the court they were playing on. It has been three decades, but he immediately recognized his old teammate, Spirit. His jet black hair was now silver and tied back in a ponytail under a tall black cowboy hat. Walking up to Ito, Spirit grabbed him in for a hug. Happy to see him but unsure why Spirit was there, Ito patted him on the back before stepping away.

"What are you doing here old friend?" Ito asked Spirit as his old teammate looked over the gym.

"Looks like you found a good life. I know how you always loved the game. Is it tough though, being a Laker fan in Beantown?" Spirit asked. The youth teams looked on curiously.

"It's never hard to be a Laker fan anywhere." Ito stated, stepping back in silence.

Spirit laughed nervously, knowing Ito was waiting for an explanation as to why he was there.

"I know your current situation, and I am not here to order you to do anything." Spirit said.

"Then why are you here?" Ito asked, crossing his arms over his shoulders.

"Well, I'm the one in charge now." Spirit said, giving Ito a smile. Ito's eyes went wide in surprise. "And I am here to lift the restrictions against you. While I'm not asking you to come back to the team, you are now allowed to contact family and friends. I'm sorry for the last three decades, I truly am." Spirit stated. Ito perked up.

"It has been enlightening and I wouldn't be in the place I am without the past. I don't harbor any bad blood." Ito said, uncrossing his arms and finally giving his old friend a genuine smile. "It's good to see you, you crazy Indian."

The two laughed aloud and embraced again. The teenagers looked on, not knowing what to do, waiting to finish their game.

"It's good to see you too, Ito." Spirit said, looking him up and down. "The years have been good to you."

"They have. Do you have Breaker's number? It would be great to see what he is up to after all this time." Ito said.

Spirit's face tightened somberly. It was clear to Ito what his reply was.

"Heart attack." Spirit said with sadness. "But his daughter has taken up his code name and is now my second in charge. She has her father's smarts and more tenacity than he ever had." Sprit replied, now laughing in remembrance.

"That's good to hear." Quick Kick said. He looked at Spirit anxiously. "And Beachhead, how is he?" Quick Kick asked.

"That's the other reason I'm here. Beachhead was wounded on a recent mission in Lakeside, Vermont." Spirit said.

"Lakeside? Where the recent murders have been?" Quick Kick asked, recognizing the town's name from the local news reports.

"Yes. I have a team in place up north working on it now. But I know that you and Beachhead went to the Academy together and were close." Spirit said.

"We were roommates for years." Ito said seriously. "Is he going to be ok?"

"Yes, but there is no way he can continue on the team after. I was hoping you might be able to talk to him. You know, help him out with the transition?" Spirit looked at Ito hopefully.

"Of course. Is he in the hospital?" Ito asked.

"Yes, up at Lakeside Medical Center. Here is his room number if you want to visit." Spirit suggested, handing Ito a folded piece of paper.

"I'll call him tonight." Ito said, quickly opening the piece of paper.

"Thank you old friend. I'll make sure to keep in touch." Spirit said before he pulled him in for another hug.

Turning around, Spirit waved at the kids who took his gesture as a cue their game was back on. He gave Ito one last nod, watching him raise his hand in acknowledgement before heading toward the exit. As Spirit walked out into the city streets, he smiled to himself knowing he just put his old teammate back in play for one last mission.

Chapter 33

The entire team sat in the control room, watching Emily Hoskins through the video feed from the cave. She was sitting cross-legged on a pile of rocks. Her eyes were closed and her chest rose and fell with deep, meditating breaths. Blue Jaye sat staring at the screen, the Sherriff and Agent Oakley were next to her. Cricket was to her left, working on repairing Zanya's mechanical arm. Occasional sparks fluttered in the air as she reconnected the wires and internal circuitry. Lionel was hopped up on the table with his two front paws, kneading his head into Zanya's shoulder, sporadically interrupting Cricket's work.

"Easy boy, she's going to be alright." Cricket said.

Zanya gently pushed him back while scratching him under his ears. The big cat raised his head and leaned into her closing his eyes happily.

The screen to the right displayed General Spirit and Breaker, sitting in a plain conference room in their Reston, Virginia headquarters. Spirit leaned back, crossing his arms.

"So, what do we know?" He asked. The team looked to Blue Jaye to begin. She cleared her throat.

"The door with the carving of Da Vinci's Vitruvian Woman contained a laboratory where Doctor Branson and his team conducted Project Culebra with Emily Hoskins as the patient. From the events over the past few days, we can tell they both succeeded and failed." Blue Jaye continued, as Spirit nodded from his remote connection.

"They succeeded in that they were able to successfully map five DNA strands to her genome, integrating multiple lines of royalty from all parts of history. Each strand of DNA complimented itself to enable the host to take on increased mental and physical capacity." Blue Jaye stopped, looking at her team for any additional updates. They all nodded at her, looking back at the video monitors.

"And how did they fail?" Spirit asked.

"The combination of DNA was incomplete. We know, from the information General Breaker provided, as well as the data included on the USB Sherriff and Oakley found, that the original formula called for one more strand of DNA, Joan of Arc. Based on Breaker's father's previous mission, thirty years ago he had prevented Cobra from obtaining the final piece. However, it seemed they went along without it, which we believe caused the subject, Emily, to act violently, seemingly waking up without memory and emotions." Blue Jaye stated.

"Why would you think that?" Spirit continued to question.

"Breaker and I visited Cobra's original subject, Serpentor. He indicated Project Culebra was an upgrade, to fix issues with his experiment. He said it all had to do with the combination of DNA. Too much violent or eccentric tendencies within the test subjects caused long-term and permanent sociopathic tendencies." Blue Jaye said, looking again at her team. Spirit nodded to her to continue.

"Then, when I returned to Lakeside, I found the entrance to a tunnel which led to the lab in Doctor Branson's carriage house. Evidence in the lab showed Emily killed the technicians after the experiment concluded. I am thinking Doctor Branson survived and she escaped through the tunnel." Blue Jaye concluded.

Spirit uncrossed his arms and flipped through some pieces of paper laid out in front of him.

"You indicate in your report that you also believe Emily's memories were returning to her, especially after she reconnected with her boyfriend." Spirit said, looking closer at the report. "Chris Sabel. If that was the case, why would she have killed Doctor Branson? Wouldn't he have been in a position to help her?" He asked.

"That is what I thought, and was why I went back to Doctor Branson's and eventually found the entrance to the tunnel." Blue Jaye replied. "I figure that Doctor Branson knew they had failed. Eventually, he knew she would come back to him. When she did, he was prepared to kill her. She got the better of him." Blue Jaye said.

"And now we have her captured." The Sherriff said, finally interjecting himself into the conversation. Everyone turned to the screen watching Emily sitting cross legged, meditating.

Spirit rested his forearms on the edge of the table and started to rub them together.

"What do you suggest for next steps?" Spirit asked Blue Jaye and the team. Blue Jaye remained unexpectedly silent. The Sherriff spoke up.

"We need to get her confined, sent to a maximum security prison immediately before her trial." The Sherriff stated. Oakley chimed in.

"We'll need to catch her off guard to do that." Oakley suggested.

"We can't take her head on. Trust me, she is too powerful." Zanya said, motioning to her arm and the bandages around her chest.

"Then we find another way." The Sherriff stated. "What about knock out gas?"

"I could set up a remote detonation. We could send a drone in to deliver the package?" Cricket suggested. Everyone looked to Blue Jaye who had said nothing.

"Jaye? What do you think?" Cricket asked. Finally, Blue Jaye started to stir.

"All good suggestions. There is still one question that has been rattling around my brain for a while. Why?" She said.

"Why what?" Asked Cricket.

"Why would Cobra try to recreate Project Culebra to begin with, three decades ago?" Blue Jaye answered.

"To create a super soldier, right?" Cricket replied.

"Right. I mean, thirty years ago, Serpentor was one of Cobra's biggest assets. They wouldn't have known about his deterioration until years later. Why try then?" She asked.

The room fell silent. She looked to Spirit who was sitting back with Breaker smiling. They were both smiling actually.

"An excellent question." Spirit replied. "And one that I can help with. Please. Do not be alarmed, she is here at my request and has given me her word. You are in no harm."

"Who is she?" Blue Jaye asked suspiciously.

Then, on the blank monitor, a schematic appeared noting an access code had been punched into the south east entrance, right above them. They watched as the small service elevator descended to their floor. After a soft beep, the sound of the doors slid open. A sharp clack of combat heels hitting the steel floor echoed before the Baroness strode into the conference room.

Everyone in the room jumped out of their seats with the Sherriff and Oakley immediately breaking leather and drawing their side arms. Zanya grabbed her machete off the table and pushed Cricket behind her. Lionel, queueing into everyone else's reactions, gave out a loud hiss and dropped his head and ears in defense.

The Baroness, dressed in a long black leather trench coat laughed playfully, leaning against the side wall. Her long silver hair fell over her shoulders and the large ruby chained around her neck.

"Thank you for the most appreciative welcome." She stated in her calm, eastern European accent.

"The Baroness is here at my request specifically, to answer your questions." Spirit stated firmly as the Sherriff and Oakley cautiously lowered their weapons.

"Then why didn't she just tell it to you to tell to us?" Zanya asked glaring at the Baroness.

"This was the only way she would reveal the information." Spirit replied, looking directly at the Baroness. "She was living with Flint when I contacted her. For now, she is on our side." He sighed, continuing to stare at her through his monitor.

"Wait? Flint's here?" Blue Jaye asked hopefully.

"Yes." The Baroness answered. "He is currently visiting Beachhead at the hospital. But he will be with us shortly."

This information seemed to resonate with the team as they slowly retook their seats, their eyes on their new guest. Blue Jaye remained standing. She took a step toward the Baroness.

"Ok, so you're here to tell us why. So, then? Why?" Blue Jaye asked. The Baroness stood straight and took a deep breath.

"Years ago, Destro and I dreamed of having a family. I was unable to conceive, but after his work with Mindbender on project Serpentor, he was convinced we could have a child. I always wanted a daughter so we decided on a girl. Like Serpentor, we wanted her to have a warrior's spirit, but we also wanted intelligence and compassion. We wanted to create a super human instead of a super soldier." The Baroness said truthfully. Her defenses were rarely lowered.

"She was supposed to be a baby?" Blue Jaye exclaimed.

"Yes. Our child." The Baroness stated, her eyes beginning to water. Shaking it off, she continued. "Destro and I had researched multiple families, women who had successfully brought children to term."

"You were planning on harvesting the eggs." Cricket interrupted. "We found a deleted file titled IVF."

"Invitero fertilization. Correct. We had selected a candidate who would supply the eggs. We just had to obtain the DNA." The Baroness answered, turning her attention to the screen with Spirit and Breaker. "We almost got it. We just needed one more strand."

"Joan of Arc." Blue Jaye said.

"Right again. But our plans, and the DNA was destroyed." The Baroness pointed a finger at the screen toward Breaker. "By your father."

Breaker smirked proudly in rebuke. The room fell again into silence.

"So, what are you plans with the girl?" The Baroness continued, gesturing to the screen of Emily meditating.

"We were just discussing ways to capture and contain her." Blue Jaye answered. The Baroness let out a sardonic laugh.

"Please. You cannot contain her. You only have two options. You either complete the formula, or you eliminate her." The Baroness concluded.

"You know we can't take her." Zanya said defiantly.

"You don't have explosives? Incendiaries?" The Baroness replied surprised.

"We're not murderers." Blue Jaye stated firmly. The Baroness simply laughed again.

"Your General asked me here to provide you the information I have provided and to offer my expert opinion. I have done that. Without the ability to complete the formula, she must be terminated." She stated, again, leaning against the wall.

Everyone in the room looked at each other again, falling on Blue Jaye who took another step closer to the Baroness.

"What if we were able to complete the formula?" She asked, giving the Baroness a grin of her own. Pulling the small vile from her jacket pocket, she held it up for all to see. "Joan of Arc's DNA." She proclaimed.

The Baroness's eyes shot open as she stood up and walked over to Blue Jaye. From behind them on the screen, Breaker spoke up.

"My father was able to take a sample before the rest was destroyed. You'll only get one shot." She said.

"Then, we have to make it count." The Baroness said, giving Blue Jaye a wink. "Who is your tech expert?" She asked.

"That would be me." Cricket replied, grabbing her crutches, standing up.

"Excellent. Let's get to the lab on the next floor and synthesize a serum." She turned to Blue Jaye. "Do you have a delivery method?"

"Yes we do." Blue Jaye said, raising Sparrow Hawk and her quiver of arrows.

"Ah, just one thing." Cricket interrupted. "There is no lab on the next floor that has the tech to handle this." She said. The Baroness looked at her with a wide grin.

"Yes, there is. You just haven't found it yet." She replied.

Suddenly, an alarm sounded off in the room. It was a short string of beeps. An image flashed on the bottom of all the monitors in the control room. Proximity alert. Cricket maneuvered her way over to the keyboard and furiously began typing commands. Splitting the screen with Spirit and Breaker, she brought up the feed. It showed four Havoc helicopters flying in formation.

"This is twenty five miles out. Estimated time, ten minutes to arrival." Cricket said, looking warningly at Blue Jaye.

"There here for Emily." She said. "Ok. Three teams. Cricket, lock down the tunnels so when they arrive, we can funnel them through the north and east side entrances. Sherriff and Oakley, head to the east. Zee, take Lionel and head to the north. Let's try a run and dump, ok?" They all nodded in reply.

"Finally, some action!" Oakley yelped slamming her hand on the table.

Suddenly, the Sherriff's phone started to ring. Picking it up, his mouth dropped as he listened before putting it back in his pocket.

"An armed terrorist group has attacked Lakeside Medical Center and is holding everyone inside hostage." He said.

"Commander Minh. She has made her play and is trying to divide your team." Baroness said.

Blue Jaye looked to her feet. She had no idea what to do. She was scared, like when she was on her first assignment with Flint. Everything seemed out of control. She wished Flint was here now. Then, it hit her.

"Flint. He's at the hospital right?" Blue Jaye asked.

The Baroness nodded slowly, another smile widening on her face as she followed Jaye's train of thought. Blue Jaye looked to the team, then to Spirit. He, like the Baroness, was nodding in approval, and Blue Jaye thought she saw him wink at her.

"General. Can I ask for a head start before you send in the cavalry?" She asked.

Spirit sat back in his chair and let out a long breath.

"You got fifteen minutes before I send for backup." He said, before signing off online.

Blue Jaye turned to the rest of the group.

"Head to the north and east entrances." She turned to Cricket and the Baroness. "Come on. We need to synthesize that serum."

And they all charged out of the Control Room.

Chapter 34

Flint followed the blue arrow on the tile floor toward the recovery unit in Lakeside Medical Center. The sterile walls were offset by the glow from a string of fluorescent lights hanging above him. He wore an aged brown bomber jacket, blue jeans and hiking boots. His hair was a gray but his stride was powerful and long.

Walking by a long window, he looked out onto the small city of Lakeside set alongside a crystal blue lake. It had been years since he left, and a surge of nostalgia raced through him. A little over five years ago, fate brought him hear pulling him out of a dark depression. He stayed to help build the team, mentor the Sherriff and teach Blue Jaye the ropes of being a Joe.

In the process, his past returned, reconnecting him with an old foe and lover. But like himself, he knew the Baroness yearned for peace just as much as he did. With her help, and General Spirit's disgruntled approval, they escaped off the grid, fleeing to a small mountain village in the Pyrenees Mountains. For the past two years, they lived in insolation, and love.

When Spirit showed up and revealed Cobra's successful attempt at reviving Project Culebra, he was amazed at the Baroness's reaction and desire to help. He and Spirit were astonished when she gave her word she would assist providing one request, that the General would continue to honor her and Flint's desire to remain isolated, and that she would have the opportunity to mentor Emily if she survived. Once she provided her reasons why, Spirit saw no choice but to agree.

Flint turned his gaze back down to the arrow on the floor wondering about how the future would play out. He was still trying to get used to the fact he had been given a second chance. He couldn't even begin to wrap his head around the possibility of having some sort of a family. Shaking it off, he pushed through a set of double doors into the recovery center.

A single doctor, dressed in whites with two nurses in tow, moved from one room to another barely acknowledging Flint had arrived. Looking down the hall, he saw a young man dressed in olive military garb sitting on a chair eating a bag of chips. Walking directly toward him, he flipped open his ID and addressed himself to the soldier.

"General Flint. I'm here to visit the patient." Flint stated.

The young soldier jumped up, dropping the bag of chips to the floor. Giving a worried salute, he confirmed Flint's request. Flint let out a short laugh and a smile, resting a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"At ease officer. Feel free to take a break for a few minutes ok?" Flint said.

The officer nodded before clumsily walking down the other end of the hall. Flint laughed again to himself as he stared at the soldier push himself through the doors. Was I ever that green? Flint thought to himself before walking into Beachhead's room.

Beachhead lay silently asleep in the hospital bed. A large IV ran from his wrist up to a clear bag of liquid hanging from a rolling stand. Behind him, an EKG monitor beeped and provided the ailing general's diagnostics and biometrics. Flint looked down at the cast around his left arm, and the bandages around his ribs. For a moment, he felt like he was looking into the future, at his own mortality.

He was brought out of his trance by a strong whiff of smoke. It wasn't an alarming smell, more fragrant, prominently featuring burnt pine and sandalwood. Turning to the small dormitory-style bureau behind him, he saw an incense stick burning low.

The incense tray was a simple small off-white dish. It was shaped like a flower, and the only design was a light blue outline of a rose. The stick of incense protruded out the middle of the dish from one of four small holes. Flint picked up a small box of matches that sat next to the incense burner. Flipping over, he saw a series of Korean characters over a pair of chopsticks with a phone number and address for Chinatown, Boston.

Perplexed, Flint checked to see if the officer guarding the room was around to ask who else had visited, but found the soldier had left to re-up on his chips. Going back into the room, Flint walked next to Beachhead's bed, looking sympathetically at his old friend.

"It's Flint buddy." He said aloud. "Spirit told me where you were so I wanted to swing by. When I heard what happened, I guessed you were too old and out of shape to survive something like this. Lucky for you, I was wrong." He joked before clearing his throat.

"I'm sure you are well aware there's not too many of us from the old team left, so it's good you'll be kicking around a little longer. I probably be back in the states for a while, but not sure where. Still retired. If you want, I have a small cabin a little ways from here that is perfect for a guy like you to recoup. The hiking, hunting, fishing, are all excellent. It's yours if you want it. I'll let Spirit know." Flint said, smiling down at his friend.

Then, Flint heard a popping sound coming from outside. It took a few seconds for his mind to register it was the muffled sound of automatic fire. Rushing toward the window, he saw seven black Humvees screeched to a stop in the front of the hospital, two squads heading in. The soldiers were dressed in black tactical gear armed with SKARs, their faces covered with balaclavas.

The last soldier to exit wore a gray camo tactical vest. Like Zanya, he had a robotic arm that clenched the handle of a Glock 9mm. He wore a simple charcoal knit cap and even from five floors up, Flint could see one side of his face was grotesquely scarred.

"Firefly." Flint whispered aloud, realizing the gravity of the situation. Whipping around, he pulled his gun from his back holster and stationed himself by the door. He looked back at Beachhead. "Don't worry old buddy. We're going to get out of this."

Popping his head out of the doorway, Flint motioned to the doctor and nurses to take cover in a room and lock the door. Looking down, he checked his mag and then cocked his pistol. Then, a familiar voice came from behind him.

Beachhead was sitting up in his hospital bed. With his good hand, he reached under the mattress and pulled out a Smith and Wesson revolver. Spinning the cylinder and snapping it shut, he smiled at Flint.

"So pal. What's the plan?" Beachhead asked eagerly.

Chapter 35

Zanya and Lionel arrived at the entrance to a long tunnel leading out to the north wing. Cricket was able to repair the primary mobility functions of her robotic arm, but its additional tactical and defense mechanisms were offline. In addition, Cricket was with Blue Jaye and the Baroness trying to synthesize the serum, so she wouldn't be able to communicate to her through her earpiece. It would be up them to eliminate the threat. Lionel brushed up against Zanya's tactical pants and licked the bottom cuff of her leather jacket. Giving him a quick rub under the ears, she began to survey the tunnel determining their best options.

The corridor walls and ceiling were concrete with reinforced steel beams. The Cobra troopers would be coming down the tunnel hot and fast. To counter their offensive, she had armed herself with a Chang Fen CF-05, and a UGGL-M1 single shot grenade launcher. Her original plan was to wait until they were close and then hit them with a grenade before laying down a line of fire. She figured afterwards, she and Lionel could then take out the rest.

But as she looked at the steel reinforced beams, she realized their location was directly under a river pass above. Launching a grenade could bring the entire structure down around them. She wasn't sure how they were armed, so without the grenade launcher, she had no idea how many she and Lionel could take out.

Thinking back to the way they came, she wondered if there was a place she could lure them to. Not able to remember anything, she let out a sigh and checked a readout on her phone. The schematic displayed a map of their underground base. On the screen, a large group of red dots had broken into two groups, one converging on her location. The timer at the bottom estimated they would arrive in less than two minutes. Looking up, she stared at a long air conditioning vent that ran down the entire length of the hallway in front of her. Then, she knew what they were going to do.

Reaching into her jacket, she removed a coiled piece of piano wire she kept for close, hand-to-hand, combat situations. Tying it to the end of her machete, she threw it above her through a grate in the A/C vent. Grabbing the end of the twine, she yanked down hard, bringing the grate crashing to the floor. Lionel jumped out of the way terrified before curiously walking up and smelling the grate. Zanya checked her phone. Ninety seconds.

Retrieving the machete and the end of the piano wire, she jumped up, grabbed the edge of the hatch and hoisted herself up in to the vent. Calling down to Lionel, Zanya encouraged him to follow her up. After circling under the vent opening to estimate the distance, Lionel made the jump with ease. Happy to be next to Zanya, he nuzzled the side of his head into her chest. Falling back from the force, Zanya sat straight laughing and petting the large mountain lion.

"Ok buddy. Here's the plan. I need to you to stay here. I am going to shimmy down the vent a little, so when they come down the hall, I'll drop down behind them. Then, you'll jump down in front, trapping them, ok?" Zanya said, pulling up the vent covering and securing it back in place.

Lionel simply continued to rub his head into her chest. Not sure if he understood her at all, she moved down the vent only to find him right behind her. What am I going to do? Zanya asked herself.

"No buddy, I need you to stay here." She said, putting him back in place before moving down the vent again.

Like before, the big cat curiously followed her, wanting to be close. Zanya looked down at her phone. Forty-five seconds. Sighing out in frustration, Lionel took a step back, unsure if he was in trouble or not. Frantically, Zanya wondered how she was going to pull this off. She thought back to what Cricket told her when she was reprogramming him. It will take him a while to learn, but ultimately, he is just a big cat, she remembered Cricket telling her.

Zanya thought back to when she was a little girl, living in Australia with her father. It was her birthday, and he gave her a stray cat that wandered into his bike shop. The cat was an orange and white calico, and Zanya would play with it by throwing pieces of her cereal to him. The young feline would run and chase the pieces on the floor happily before chomping them down.

Reaching into her jacket, she pulled out packet with an MRE orange creamsicle cookie. Removing it from the wrapper, she held it out in front of her before taking a small bite. Smiling wide, she held it for Lionel to smell. The large catamount sniffed it a few times before biting it sideways. She let the pieces fall and watched the cat sit down happily to eat the rest.

Pulling out another cookie, she placed it in front of him before moving down the vent. Thankfully, he stayed put, licking his lips before reaching down to start in on the next cookie. Zanya could hear the troopers' combat boots racing down the concrete floor below them. Looking down at her phone, they would be there in the next ten seconds.

Moments later, the soldiers converged down the hall. Waiting until at least half had passed, Zanya looked up to Lionel and gave him a quick salute. Lionel had finished the cookies and was peering down through his vent. He looked at her curiously.

"Here we go buddy." She whispered to him as she loaded the single shot grenade launcher with a smoke bomb. Firing it down, the vent panel crashed to the floor, taking out a couple of troopers. Bouncing by the soldier's feet, the grenade exploded in a puff of smoke.

Jumping down, Zanya could see the troopers frantically trying to pull on their face masks. Laying down a line of fire, she took out four soldiers, before unsheathing her machete and slicing herself through the smoke. She shouted above for Lionel. The cat's protective instincts and programming kicked in as the beast dropped down on a Cobra trooper. With a high-pierced screech, Lionel tore into the unprepared soldier, opening up his chest with a swipe before leaping on another.

After a few bursts of frantic gunfire, the hallway fell in silence. The haze had cleared enough for Zanya to see the entire unit twisted and contorted on the ground. Lionel made his way to her licking the fingers on her robotic hand, and nuzzling his head into her side. Taking out the last MRE creamsicle cookie, she threw it up in the air. Lionel snatched his jaws, breaking the cookie in half before bending over to eat the rest.

"Good boy, buddy." Zanya stated, before swiping the screen on her phone and holding it up to her face. "North tunnel is clear." She said, before reaching down and giving Lionel some much deserved scratches under his ears.

Chapter 36

At the same time that Zanya and Lionel were planning their attack in the north tunnel, the Sherriff and Agent Oakley were rushing toward the east side entrance. Bursting through a metal door, the two entered into a giant cave bisected by a thin steel catwalk. The two crossed the bridge single file, every now and then looking down at the black abyss below them.

Reaching the end of the catwalk, they ran through another set of metal doors into a long corridor, reinforced by thick steel beams. The sides of the tunnel were natural earth, giving off a wet musty odor. Rusted oil barrels lined the left and right walls down to the metal doors at the end of the hall. Oakley kicked a barrel and looked up at the Sherriff.

"What are you thinking? Take cover behind the barrels and pick em' off one by one?" She asked, smiling while looking down the barrel of her pearl handled colt.

"If we knew we wouldn't have to reload, that would be a great idea. But we just don't know how many are coming. If we give them any room to breathe, they might force us back. Getting caught on the catwalk back there would not be a good way out for us." The Sherriff stated, looking up and down the hallway.

Removing his phone from his pocket, he swiped to the map of the tunnel system. A stream of red dots advanced on them toward the east side entrance. Drops of sweat splattered on the screen of his phone. With his forearm, he wiped the thick beads from his forehead before looking at Oakley.

"It's really humid in here." Oakley said, taking off her Stetson and wiping her own brow.

"The Pike River runs right above us. With the springtime runoff, it's probably seeped deep into the ground water." He said looking at the soaked earthen walls.

Then, he figured it out. He turned to Oakley with a beaming smile. She cocked an eyebrow at the Sherriff, wondering what he was thinking.

"Do you have your remote charge?" He asked Oakley.

Reaching into her back, she pulled out the small explosive device. She watched curiously as the Sherriff ran down the hall and placed the charge on the steel beams above the metal doors. Then, he ran back past Oakley to the entrance they just came in and placed his own remote charge on another beam. Returning to Oakley, he drew his sidearm and checked the mag.

"When they come through that door, we'll engage them behind these barrels. I'll lay down some cover fire as we retreat back the way we came." He said, pointing down the hall.

"Retreat?" Oakley asked, unsure of the Sherriff's plan.

"Yes, retreat. Once we get to the door, you blow your charge. Once we are on the bridge outside, I'll detonate mine." He said. She cocked an eyebrow.

"Won't that bring the river down on top of us?" She asked.

"We'll hopefully not on us." The Sherriff replied. "I'm hoping the runoff will go into the cave below the catwalk. If there are any troopers left then, they should be easy to take care of."

Oakley quickly reviewed the Sherriff's plan. It wasn't the best, and surely the risk was high, but if it succeeded, they could wipe out the entire threat at once. Looking down at her own phone, she realized they were out of options. Fifteen seconds till the soldiers arrived. Nodding her head, she took cover behind an oil barrel. Cocking his gun, the Sherriff took position in front of her.

Seconds later, a burst of gunfire spattered through the door in front of them. The first soldier who charged through immediately dropped as Oakley shot him right between the eyes. Two more soldiers fell as they tried to enter, quickly hit by Oakley and the Sherriff.

The Sherriff paused and looked to Oakley, grabbing a small face mask out of his jacket and looping it around his ears. Oakley pulled out a red bandana from her back pocket and tied it over her nose. With a thud, they saw a small smoke canister bounce on the floor in front of them before popping into a gray and white cloud.

Motioning to Oakley, the Sherriff slowly retreated back the way they came. Oakley followed. After a few more seconds of silence, the Sherriff let of a couple of shots in the air, prompting the soldiers to charge.

"Now! Set off your charge!" The Sherriff shouted to Oakley as he crouched behind the last barrel letting off a stream of fire.

Hitting a button on the side of her watch, the charge detonated. The tunnel walls in front of them blew out, while an avalanche of rock, soil, and water crashed down from above. The Sherriff turned and grabbed Oakley as they ran out into the cavern. Racing down the single file catwalk, the Sherriff turned to see at least six armed soldiers baring down. The one in the lead lowered his rifle just as the Sherriff activated his remote charge.

With another blast, the two were propelled down the catwalk. The Sherriff hit the side of the railing and grabbed tightly, forcing his momentum back from tumbling over into the chasm. Looking behind him, he could see two remaining Cobra soldiers wrapping their arms and legs around the metal railings. A surging flow of debris, rocks, and river churned from where the tunnel was, falling down into the void.

The entire catwalk started to buckle as the Sherriff and Oakley regained their footing and continued to run. Looking back one last time, the Sherriff saw a foamy wave push the last two soldiers into the abyss below them. He turned ahead, kicking his legs high.

"Jump!" He shouted as he and Oakley dove forward.

They both hit the ground in front of the door safely as the bridge toppled behind them down with the swells. Rolling over onto their knees they looked at each other bewildered at first, before breaking out into laughter. Oakley gave out a loud whistle before whipping her hat off and slapping it on her thigh. Nodding his head in approval the Sherriff grabbed his phone.

"East side entrance is secure." He said, watching the new underground waterfall crash down into the dark.

Chapter 37

The Baroness led Agent Blue Jaye and Communications Officer Cricket out of the Control Room down the main corridor towards a set of abandoned labs. Stopping by a rusted old fire alarm, she reached behind it and opened the front like a book revealing a dated keypad. Punching in a few numbers on the dusty console, a section of the wall to their right slid open. Blue Jaye and Cricket looked inside before looking back at the Baroness.

"How many more of these rooms are there?" Blue Jaye asked.

"A few." The Baroness replied. "Don't worry, I promised your General to divulge everything I know about this base after we have completed our mission."

Cricket inched into the room with her crutches as a set of automatic lights blinked to life. The Baroness walked inside followed by Blue Jaye who kept a close eye on the former Cobra leader.

Stainless steel cabinets lined the three walls in front of them, with a variety of machines resting on the countertops. Some Blue Jaye recognized like a large microscope and a Benson burner, but most of the others she had no idea what they did. In the middle of the room was a large steel table.

"This is some tech." Cricket said with a wide smile.

Maneuvering to the back wall, Cricket rested her crutches on the counter before grabbing what looked to Blue Jaye like a salad spinner. Hoisting it up, she moved it to the table in the center of the room.

"Ok, the quickest way will be to create a liquid serum. Do you have the sample?" Cricket asked.

Removing the vile from her pocket, Blue Jaye walked over and gave her the small tube. Cricket opened the top of the round container and removed a capped glass container. Carefully opening the tube, she tapped the contents into the vile. A ruby brown dust filled half of the container before Cricket gently placed it on the table.

Swinging back around, she opened a few cabinets until she found a box of syringes. Moving back to the machine, she looked at the Baroness and Blue Jaye.

"Ok. For this to synthesize, I will need a specimen to fuse the DNA into a living strand." Cricket asked.

"Specimen?" Blue Jaye questioned, not sure what Cricket was asking.

However, the Baroness had already started removing her leather jacket. Rolling up a sleeve of her onyx tactical jumpsuit, she presented her soft inner elbow up to Cricket.

"Wait? What are you doing?" Blue Jaye asked.

The Baroness returned a look that made her fall silent.

"This is another stipulation your General agreed to." The Baroness replied saying no more.

Cricket looked to Blue Jaye not sure what to do. Regardless, there was no time to verify or argue.

"Do it." She said, before Cricket stuck the syringe in the Baroness's arm.

Drawing a sample, Cricket removed the needle and plugged in into the glass vile. Placing it back into the machine, Cricket punched a green button on the side. A whirring sound started to come from the machine as the vile was whipped around like a kid on the Turkish Twist. After a minute or two, a beep came as the machine began to power down.

Removing the tube, Cricket hopped over to the left counter to what looked like a mini microwave. Putting the tube in a wooden holder, she placed it in the small box. Closing the door, she punched a button on the side and a light came on in the machine. To her right, a small desktop computer started to beep. Suddenly, and image faded onto the screen. It was a green schematic of a double helix.

Sitting down in a metal chair, Cricket pulled out the keyboard and typed in a series of commands. The helix on the screen started to move up and down as Cricket conducted an analysis. Smiling, she turned back to the Baroness and Blue Jaye.

"It worked." She said. Looking at Blue Jaye, she nodded to her quiver of arrows. "Which arrow are you going to use?" She asked.

Taking off her quiver, Blue Jaye inspected the arrows. She had a variety from double serrated, to explosive tips, to electric shock. Selecting one, she gave it to Cricket.

"Nice choice." Cricket said before removing her pocket knife and carefully opening up the tip of the arrow. She poured the serum in the tip before closing it up and handing it back to Blue Jaye.

"Good luck." She said. "Let's just hope Zee, the Sherriff, Oakley, and Flint can buy us some time."

At that point, Blue Jaye's phone beeped. She swiped the screen and put it on speaker.

"North tunnel is clear." Zanya said.

Blue Jaye smiled before her phone beeped again.

"East side entrance is secure." The Sherriff stated.

"Well, that just leaves Flint." Blue Jaye said to Cricket and the Baroness before grabbing Sparrow Hawk and heading toward the cave where Emily was trapped.

Chapter 38

Flint had put Beachhead in a wheelchair and rolled him down to the last room in the ward as far away from the entrance as possible. He also corralled the doctor and the two nurses into the room as well. Opening the door, he peered down the corridor, staring at the double doors that remained closed. He turned back to Beachhead.

"Nothing so far." He said looking back out the window.

"Do you really think they are here for me?" Beachhead asked, cocking his revolver and straightening himself up in the chair.

"Definitely. With everything Blue Jaye and her team are going through, it makes sense. Hit the hospital and capture yourself to give Cobra a bargaining chip." Flint said.

"A trade." Beachhead reflected.

"Exactly." Flint replied.

Taking a step out of the room, he strained to hear if anyone was coming down the hall. Closing his eyes, he slowed his breathing to focus. Coming down the hall were the faint footsteps of someone running. Instinctually, Flint took a step forward, continuing to tune in on the sound.

As it got louder, he noticed it was just one person, and their pace was frantic, not something he would have assumed from a soldier. Crouching down and barely keeping the door open, he watched as the person burst through the double doors in a full sprint.

He was an Asian-American man. Older, in his fifties, wearing a solid purple golf tee with a pair of loose khakis and sneakers. Flint looked at the man's strong features and a strong sense of déjà vu came over him. The man raced to Beachhead's room and peered through the window. Perplexed, he stepped back, looking up and down the hall. The next time Flint got a good look at his face, he immediately recognized the man as his old teammate, Quick Kick. Opening the door, he held his hands and pistol over his head, giving Quick Kick a smile.

"You're looking good for a dead man." Flint joked.

It took Quick Kick a minute before he recognized his friend. Smiling, he ran over and gave Flint a big hug.

"It's been a long time off the grid." Quick Kick replied happily before dropping his gaze. "I heard about Jaye. I'm sorry." He said trailing off.

"Thank you." Flint said, grabbing Quick Kick's shoulder. "It's ok. Things have gotten better, they really have." He replied genuinely.

Bringing him into the room, Quick Kick and Beachhead embraced as the two old soldiers eyes began to water.

"Thanks for the smoke sticks." Beachhead laughed.

"It's a Buddhist incense holder from my family's temple." Quick Kick smirked back before patting him on the shoulder. "Good to see you're not dead."

"You too." Beachhead laughed in return.

"Ok, guys. We got a situation at hand." Flint interrupted, bringing their reminiscence back to reality. Nodding to the doctor and nurses quivering in the corner of the room, he continued. "Ito? Did you see any Cobra troopers? Any idea on how long we have till they arrive?" He asked.

"I reached the lobby just as they were entering." Ito replied. "I counted at least twenty soldiers, plus the leader. They broke off in two groups. One squad is on the way here, the rest are waiting down with their captain."

"It's Firefly." Flint stated.

"Firefly?" Quick Kick replied. "He looked pretty banged up." Flint and Beachhead nodded.

"From our last encounter. One of the new recruits, Wild Bill's daughter got him." Flint said.

"Looks like she got him pretty good. So, what's the plan?" Quick Kick asked.

Flint looked to Beachhead. A wide smile came over his face.

"Fellas. Let's set a Rabbit Trap." He suggested to Beachhead and Quick Kick's happy approval. "I'll take point."

Quick Kick wheeled the general down the hall and back into his recovery room. Helping Beachhead into his bed, Quick Kick turned to leave.

"Ito?" Beachhead asked. "Do you have a weapon?"

Ito dug into his khakis and flipped open a butterfly knife. Then, he removed his belt buckle and a solid metal bracelet around his wrist. With a quick flip and snap, he revealed a set of custom brass knuckles. With a nod, Quick Kick walked out and into the room directly across from Beachhead's. Flint looked back at the doctor and nurses huddled in the corner of his room and quietly told them to take cover behind a metal desk.

After a few minutes of silence, the loud clamor of combat boots came from the end of the hall as the first squad burst through the double doors. Forming double file, they slowly advanced, checking each room on the way to Beachhead's. Ignoring the other patients, the soldiers moved forward, stopping in front of Beachhead's room.

Two soldiers positioned themselves on either side of the door while the rest of the troopers kneeled and stood with their automatic rifles drawn and pointed. The squad leader motioned his troops with a series of hand commands before slowly reaching for the door handle.

Whipping it open, he charged into the room with the two soldiers behind him. For the next few seconds, the rest of the troopers stood outside the room in silence. Then, a shot came from inside of the room, followed by two more. The soldiers took a defensive step back, pointing their weapons firm. One of the troopers called out. No reply. He tried again before looking at his other teammates for direction. His gun drawn in front of him, he carefully approached the door.

Opening it, his head shot back as his gun dropped to his side. The rest of the squad scurried away as his body slammed lifeless to the ground. Taking a moment to realize what had just happened, the soldiers hesitated before the door behind them opened and Quick Kick jumped out.

Lashing out with his knife, he cut the closest trooper across the gut, spinning him around and holding him in front of him. A couple premature shots went off, hitting the soldier in the shoulder and chest. Throwing the body at the pair of troopers in front of him, Quick Kick spun the opposite direction, throwing the knife in another soldier's neck. Hopping back to the other two, he punched one in the gut, before delivering a right cross to the other's jaw with his brass knuckles.

At the same time, Flint burst out of the room down the hall knocking off a couple of soldiers who were aiming at Quick Kick. Rolling out of the way of a line of fire Flint blasted a trooper in the shin. The remaining soldiers scrambled for their weapons which had fallen to the floor. Flint shot three dead and focused on Quick Kick who was in hand to hand combat with the last two.

Quick Kick back-head butted the trooper behind him before slamming his brass knuckles into the side of the soldier in front of him. Jumping up, he kicked the fighter in front of him. Spinning in the air, he delivered a round house to the guy in back of him. The soldier was knocked off his feet, hitting the wall. Reaching down, Quick Kick retrieved his knife and smiled as the final Cobra squad member fell unconscious on the floor.

"Well that was fun." Beachhead said, wheeling himself out into the hallway.

Flint ran back to the room with the doctor and nurses. Poking his head in, he informed them it was ok to come out. He put his arm on the doctor's back as he led him out of the room.

"Doctor, is there another way out of here, other than the main entrance?" He asked.

"Yes." The doctor said, shaking and staring at the dead men on the floor. He pointed the other way down the hall. "There is a service elevator."

"Where does it lead?" Flint asked.

"To an old storage and laundry facility." The doctor stammered. "It is sealed off from the rest of the hospital.

"Good." Flint said, patting him on the back. "I need you to get the patients and the nurses down the service elevator. Here…" Flint said, going over and wheeling Beachhead over. "…take the general with you. He will be able to contact the police." He said, handing Beachhead over.

Quick Kick and Flint helped the doctor and nurses load the patients into the service elevator and sent them down. As the penultimate group descended, Quick Kick put a hand on Beachhead's shoulder.

"When this is over, we'll go out for a beer." Ito said.

"You got it partner." Beachhead replied genuinely.

Flint and Quick Kick watched as the nurse wheeled Beachhead down the hall and into the service elevator. After the doors closed shut, Flint looked at an unconscious soldier and turned to Ito.

"What are you thinking?" He asked. Ito was also looking at the trooper.

"How about a bait and switch?" He suggested.

"Just what I was thinking." Flint answered nodding with a smile.

Chapter 39

Blue Jaye and the Baroness came to the end of the tunnel blocked with rubble and rock. Dropping a duffle bag down on the ground, Blue Jaye picked up a series of round charges that looked like Mason jar lids. She placed them on the rocks in front of her.

"The seismic charges will let off a slow hum, turning the rock to dust in a matter of seconds." Cricket said from Blue Jaye's earpiece.

Stepping back, Blue Jaye clicked the buttons on her watch till the face lit up in green. Then, she twisted the dial as the charges started to emit a light hum.

"Impressive." The Baroness said as the rocks above them began to shake.

"Cricket, where is Emily in relation to the tunnel?" Blue Jaye asked.

"She's still sitting at the far end, her back facing you both." Cricket said. "Thirty more seconds."

Blue Jaye looked to the Baroness.

"We're good." She said, removing Sparrow Hawk from her shoulder and stringing it with the arrow tipped with serum.

The Baroness simply turned toward the rocks, watching them vibrate into a thin cloud of dust. Slowly, they proceeded forward into the cave. Emily remained seated cross-legged, her back facing them. Blue Jaye took position about ten yards away behind a large boulder. The Baroness kept advancing. When she was a few feet away, Emily reached down and grabbed her hatchet.

The Baroness stopped in her place, unbuttoning her jacket and raising her hands up. Calmly, Emily rose and turned to face them. Her eyes were dark and set between a strong brow. She didn't look like a college student anymore. Instead, she looked serious, calculated, and deliberate. Wincing, she examined the Baroness, with a keen eye on Blue Jaye. Carefully, the Baroness began to speak.

"My name is Anastasia McCullen. Three decades ago, I, along with my late husband James, conceived of Project Culebra. James and I could not have children of our own. We tried, but I was not able to carry a child to term." The Baroness said, her eyes sifting back to a distant memory. "Instead, we decided to try other means. We developed a genetic sequence that would incorporate the best of past female DNA and mapped it to ours. After selecting a donor, the only step was to harvest the DNA. But we failed. Thirty years later, your Doctor Branson resurrected the project and mapped the sequence to your DNA. As I am sure you know, the sequence was incomplete." The Baroness paused, her hands now by her sides.

They watched for Emily's reaction. Her eyes revealed nothing. She simply stood, her hand flexing the grip on her hatchet. Finally, she spoke.

"And now you want to help, I'm sure. Just like Doctor Branson?" Emily asked, shifting her feet on the rocks.

Blue Jaye pulled back on her bow, waiting for the right moment.

"Doctor Branson was a fool. Commander Minh is a fool. They are all fools to have tried. But there is a way. Please, I know it is difficult, but you have to trust me." The Baroness pleaded.

"Trust you?" Emily asked sarcastically, moving sideways into an attack stance. "Why would I trust any of you? You want me for what I was built for. To be a weapon." She retorted, bouncing her axe in her hand.

"Don't you understand? You were supposed to be a child. My child!" The Baroness stated turning to defensively match Emily's position.

Then, Emily's eyes narrowed. Sensing the attack, the Baroness shot an open palm to Blue Jaye, pleading her not to shoot. Blue Jaye hesitated.

"No! Not yet!" The Baroness shouted as Emily attacked.

She swung the hatchet in a downward wood chop, but the Baroness swiftly moved out of the way.

"Stradivarius!" She yelled as Emily continued to swing. Still nimble and agile, the Baroness ducked from the blows, her silver hair swaying back and forth. "Nefertiti! Riposte!" She yelled.

Emily's attack suddenly became erratic, like she was wounded, trying to keep her balance. Screaming in frustration, she charged at the Baroness wildly, carelessly wielding her hatchet as the Baroness easily stepped out of the way.

"Vintovka!" The Baroness called out. Emily froze in place.

Blue Jaye looked on astonished as the Baroness walked a step closer to Emily who was standing and shaking. It was as if she was trying to break free from an invisible bond. Her eyes seemed feral and spit seethed through her clenched teeth. She let out a war cry but could not advance. Then, the Baroness turned to Blue Jaye.

"Now!" She shouted.

Bouncing up from the rock, Blue Jaye pulled back on her ancient bow and fired. The arrow flew true toward Emily, who turned, seemingly breaking out of the spell. Whipping her hand up, she caught the arrow before is struck, the tip right in front of her nose.

"Close." She said, turning and grinning at Blue Jaye.

Raising her hand, Blue Jaye grabbed the face of her watch and turned the dial.

"Close was all I needed." She said, returning the smirk.

Then, the tip of the arrow exploded, covering Emily's face in a blood red mist. Coughing, Emily took a large breath before falling to her knees. Continuing to hack, she fell to her side until her convulsions slowed, and her eyes closed. Blue Jaye and the Baroness walked over, staring at her, now sleeping calmly.

"Did it work?" Blue Jaye asked.

"Yes, I believe it did." The Baroness said, crouching down and gently brushing a lock of Emily's hair behind her ear.

Chapter 40

Firefly called over his radio to the first squad's commander as he led the rest of his team down the corridor along the blue arrows that dotted the floor. Clicking his radio off, he had a gut feeling that his first team had been taken out. Wiping the scarred side of his cheek, a line of drool dropped to the ground through the exposed holes on the left side of his face. Crushing the walkie-talkie in his robotic arm, he commanded his unit to take defensive positioning as they reached the entrance to the recovery ward.

Someone was helping Beachhead, Firefly knew. He had no idea who or how many. Spirit picked his new team carefully, and they were very good at what they did. Looking at his robotic arm, he spit angrily on the floor.

He expected that at least one or more Joes were helping Beachhead, and he desperately hoped it was Wild Bill's daughter Oakley. She had given him his recent scars and he was looking forward to their next encounter. While the Joes were obviously alerted to their arrival, Firefly knew they would not be prepared for what he was about to unleash. He had planned a full frontal assault, a blitzkrieg, where, just like the old days, they would overpower the small group of resistance. They were too young to understand the true horror of war.

Signaling to his squad, he counted down from three on his fingers before pointing for them to begin their charge. Busting into the room, they let down multiple lines of fire. As Firefly expected, the novice Joes had barricaded themselves at the end of the hall, behind a slew of overturned hospital beds.

Advancing his team efficiently, his front lines continued to fire down the hall, soldiers kicking open doors, blasting anything they could see. Looking at the far end of the corridor, Firefly could see at least two people firing back. Ducking down behind their barrier, he could not make out who it was. Still, he ordered his men to press forward.

Then, he saw the two retreat, revealing another man in a wheelchair dressed in olive military dress. Setting down a line of cover fire, he saw the two push the man into the last room down the hall.

"Beachhead!" Firefly yelled aloud, muffled by the deafening gunfire.

Picking up his own pace, he charged down the rest of the corridor, leading his squad over and through the barrier into the room. While his orders were to capture the general alive, his blood was hot, and truthfully, he had no intentions of leaving anyone breathing.

He was a soldier turned mercenary, turned ultimately into something far more hideous. Like any murderer, he knew that death would eventually come. Years ago, he had made amends with his mortality, wondering how it would meet him. And bursting through the door, he came face to face with his last act.

Sitting in front of an open window was the man in the wheelchair. He wore a tight olive military hat with a fully decorated dress jacket. However, the man wasn't Beachhead. Sweating profusely, the man's mouth was taped, and Firefly noticed that his hands were tied to each arm of the chair. In his lap was a timed charge, the countdown reading 00:02.

He tried to speak but the bomb exploded.

The windows for the entire ward blew out in a blast of flames and debris. The Lakeside Sherriff's department, led by Deputy Sherriff Sampson, who had congregated below, shielded themselves from the falling glass before charging into the hospital.

Two men remained, dangling out the last window on the floor at the end of a steel cable, gently bouncing off the side of the building. A fire truck began to position itself under them. At a closer look, both men were laughing.

"Great to be working with you again." Flint said to Quick Kick as they hung above a rising ladder.

Chapter 41

Flint stood in a hallway of the underground base, looking through a window into a make-shift medical room. A cot was brought in with a rolling IV stand and an EKG monitor. The flicker of the hanging warehouse lights buzzed softly as the Baroness sat next to Emily, who was sitting upright on the bed. The two were in an intense conversation, broken at times with a laugh, or a tender hand grabbing the other. Blue Jaye walked next to Flint and looked inside. Flint spoke first.

"The serum seems to be working. She is using some of the techniques she and Destro had planned before to help her understand and cope." Flint said, staring into the room.

"You're going to look after them, right?" Blue Jaye asked, looking at the Baroness, watching the rare emotional expressions on her face.

"Yes, that's the plan. Spirit is setting us up in the area where Zanya's boy lives. I guess it is by the ocean so that will be nice." Flint said, finally looking to Blue Jaye and smiling. He put a hand on her shoulder. "It's good to see you again Jaye."

Blue Jaye instinctually wrapped her arms around him and gave him a big bear hug.

"You too, old buddy." She said, pulling back. Her eyes were watering. "Will we ever see you again?" She asked.

"Of course!" He chuckled, pulling her in for another short hug. "I'll bet anything, that crazy old Indian will get you'll into some situation you'll need me to bail you out of." Flint joked, messing up her blue hair like an old uncle. Blue Jaye jumped back with a smile.

"That sounds about right." She said, looking back into the room.

Suddenly, Oakley ran out of the control room, shouting. Running to meet them, she arrived short of breath.

"Spirit's on the line. We've got a big problem." She said, before turning the other direction, Flint and Blue Jaye hot on her heels.

Inside the control room, the monitors displayed multiple shots from the Lakeside Medical center. Police, fire, ambulance, and the National Guard had been deployed and were working on the evacuation and clean up. On the center screen was Spirit, and his sober demeanor was a stark contrast to their current mood after stopping the threat. Spirit watched the team sit down at the conference room before beginning.

"First off, I want to congratulate you on your successful mission. There were no patient or staff fatalities at the hospital, and the Sherriff's people are working with the National Guard. Unfortunately, it seems the situation with Commander Minh and Emily is far from over. Fifteen minutes ago, we received the following transmission." Spirit said, before changing his screen.

The monitor displayed Commander Minh. Her hair was jet black, and a long scar ran down the side of her face below her right eye. She wore a long silver necklace, tipped with a wire pendant shaped in the form of a locust. A maroon scarf draped over her shoulders and crimson dress. Staring into the camera, she grinned before starting into her address.

"Congratulations are in order I suppose. However, it will be short lived, I promise you that." She said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Project Culebra is mine, and mine alone. Emily, the girl. I will ensure she is in my possession. You might have survived the first wave, maybe even the second and third, but eventually, there will be nothing you can do. During the hospital standoff and the attack on your base, I planted twenty explosive devices across Lakeside. Detonation will be in six hours unless you turn Emily over to me." She stared blankly into the camera. "You have one hour to reply." She stated before clicking off the feed.

General Spirit faded onto the screen.

"Working with Mainframe, he believes he has located fourteen of the twenty. That gives us six to find in a little over five hours." Spirit stated.

The room fell silent. Blue Jaye looked around at her team who had a variety of expressionless looks on their faces. She was confident that they could track down the devices, but it was the rest of Commander Minh's threat that rattled her. She would not stop. First targeted strikes, now explosives, what next? Chemical warfare? It wasn't out of the realm of possibilities for Minh, Blue Jaye thought to herself. She looked to her team.

"What do you think?" She asked.

"We can find the bombs, but we need to stop Minh." The Sherriff stated.

She looked at Cricket, Oakley, and Zanya, who were all nodding in agreement. Lionel was sprawled out in a corner, cleaning his paws.

"Do we have any leads on where she is?" Blue Jaye asked Spirit.

"We last tracked her to Tehran, but that Intel was a week old at best. I am sure she has been on the move since then. My guess is she is a lot closer to us than we think." Spirit replied.

"You mean she's in Lakeside?" Cricket asked. Spirit nodded silently.

"Then we have to go after her." Zanya agreed.

"We'll have to split our resources. One team to find the bombs, one to track down Minh." Blue Jaye suggested.

"I'll volunteer for Team Minh." Oakley exclaimed, raising her hand.

"Ok, let's work on a plan. We'll stall Minh with a canned response, hopefully buying us a little more time." Blue Jaye said.

"There is another option." Came a new voice who had entered the room.

It was the Baroness, and behind her was Emily Hoskins. They entered the room and the young woman sat down at the other end of the table. The color had returned to her face, and her menacing appeal was gone. Oakley still kept a hand on her pistol. She saw Zanya do the same.

"It's ok. The serum was a success, and I have been working with my original plan to help her adapt. Albeit, I was planning on her being much, much younger." The Baroness said, giving Emily a smile. Emily nervously returned the gesture. The Baroness continued.

"What I suggest is we give Commander Minh exactly what she wants." The Baroness proposed.

The entire room looked at the Baroness not knowing what to say. Blue Jaye finally spoke up.

"You want to give Emily to Commander Minh?" Blue Jaye asked unbelievably.

"Yes. Like the General indicated, chances are good she is close, if not in Lakeside at this moment. You need to stop her. Trust me, I trained her. She won't cease until she gets what she wants. The best way, like you said, is to do it now before she can cause any more damage." The Baroness paused for feedback.

"How do you suggest we lure her out? She is going to be prepared, especially if we just give in to her demands." Blue Jaye questioned.

"True. You will need to know her exit strategy to gain the upper hand. To make sure she suspects nothing, you will also need to allow her to reach her exit with Emily unmolested. The risks are high." The Baroness agreed. Blue Jaye got the feeling there was more to her plan.

"So how do we mitigate the risks?" She asked. The Baroness smiled.

"Another excellent question. We lower the risks by stacking the deck." The Baroness said. Getting up, she moved to the screens. "Can you please bring up a map of Lakeside?" She asked.

Cricket got up and typed in a few keystrokes before a map filled the majority of the screen.

"Commander Minh used multiple strategies in her first attack. She tried to divide your forces while using it all as a diversion to plant the explosives. My guess, is that her exit strategy lies in resources she has currently obtained." The Baroness stated.

"What resources has she obtained? We killed all her troops?" Oakley asked.

"Did you?" The Baroness challenged. "Yes, you can confirm that all soldiers who attacked your base were killed. But can you confirm that all soldiers involved in the hospital attack are dead?" The Baroness asked. The room remained silent.

"What are you suggesting?" Blue Jaye answered.

"If it were me, I would have added a failsafe that was directly connected to my plans. Again, she needs an exit strategy that would be unsuspicious and unsuspected. If she had a trooper acquire an ambulance, fire, or police truck, it would be the perfect means of transportation." The Baroness stated.

"Transportation to what?" The Sherriff asked.

"Her exit." Blue Jaye answered for the Baroness. The Baroness gave her a smile and nod.

"Correct." She said, looking up at the map. "Here." She said, pointing at a spot northeast of lakeside. In the location was a large field. On the map, a long dotted rectangle was outlined in the middle of the field. "This marker represents an old landing strip. I bet she has secured a service vehicle and will use the abandoned airstrip as a getaway. Again, it's what I would have done." The Baroness said before returning to her seat.

"So we know her exit. How do you suggest we converge on Minh without her knowing?" Blue Jaye asked.

"There should be two F.A.N.G. helicopters in the armory below us. Both are equipped with cloaking devices." The Baroness replied.

Blue Jaye's eyes went wide. Cricket stood up and looked at the Baroness.

"There's an armory below us?" She asked, now excited. The Baroness rolled her eyes.

"Yes, and I will show it to you along with everything else I know about this base, I promise." She said before turning to Emily. "Are you up for this my child?" She asked.

Emily remained silent, looking over everyone in the room. Slowly, she nodded.

"I'm ready." She simply replied.

Everyone turned to Blue Jaye. Looking back at her team, then at Spirit, she cracked a small smile.

"Ok. Let's set it up." She replied.

Chapter 42

The Boston Whaler police boat cut through the clear calm waters heading to the designated drop zone just outside of Lakeside. The majority of the trees had budded and blossomed, creating a shamrock and emerald canopy above them as they maneuvered through the twists and turns of the Pike River. The Sherriff steered the boat from the deep V-hull as Emily, the Baroness, and Blue Jaye sat by the bow, watching a family of geese mulling on the sandy shore.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Blue Jaye asked Emily as they neared the destination.

Emily looked to Blue Jaye with a soft, but confident stare. The serum had definitely distempered her, and Blue Jaye had an inkling that she had even grown in intelligence and instinct since then. Still, she worried, knowing the woman's ultraviolent tendencies were just below the surface.

"Yes. After everything I have done, it is the least I can do. A first step in hopefully making amends with you and your people." Emily replied.

Blue Jaye nodded, looking away uncomfortably. After she woke up, Emily's speech had taken on a different tone. One that made Blue Jaye uneasy. Knowing the woman's unique genetic makeup, she was not sure who she was speaking too. Sometimes, her dialect seemed bygone, archaic.

"You know what you need to do, right?" The Baroness asked Emily, rubbing her back gently.

"Yes. I'll meet Commander Minh and her team and ride with them to the exit. Then, the Centenar's team will be positioned for an ambush." Emily replied.

"Good. Good!" The Baroness said, eerily happily.

"Centenar?" Blue Jaye asked.

"It's a term from the middle ages. A military squad leader. For archers." The Baroness nodded at Sparrow Hawk draped over Blue Jaye's back. "I think she is trying to determine your rank."

Blue Jaye looked at Emily and removed the bow. She offered it to her. Emily took it with both hands, bowing her head.

"My name is Jaye, and I'm just the leader of my team. I am also a friend, and an ally." Blue Jaye said, making eye contact with the young girl.

Emily bowed her head again and returned a warm smile, handing Blue Jaye back the bow.

"A fine weapon Centenar Jaye. Please put your faith in me. I am honored to have yours." She said, turning to look at the glow of the afternoon sun on the lake. "The world is more beautiful as I remember it." She said to herself quietly.

The Sherriff slowed the boat as they neared a rocky cove with a short wide pier. Docking, Emily hopped out and turned to the rest of them. "You have my word. I will not fail." She said, placing a hand over her heart. Backing up, the Sherriff pulled the boat back, and sped off to where they had parked their helicopter.

Emily walked down the pier onto the small beach. The gravel drive that led to the dock was empty and she found a fallen tree to sit on and look out onto the lake. Slowly, she began to recount the events of the past few days. The initial killings up to her encounter with the Baroness and Blue Jaye were fragmented, like her trying to remember the details from a nightmare before it slowly faded away. The memories that accompanied her as Emily, including the poor boy Chris, her foster parents, and past life, were also dissolving as the serum and the genetic mapping took place.

Emily Hoskins was dead, and it was time to let her spirit finally rest, she thought to herself. Watching the tips of the glistening surf, she thought what her name should be. There were so many names she had gone by, but this time she felt, it should be something new. Looking down, she saw a cluster of purple violets.

"Violet. That's a nice name." She said with a slight French accent.

Distant but sharp sounds of sirens broke her concentration as a pair of bright red SUVs rolled up to the mouth of the dock. With red lights flashing, Violet saw a gold emblem painted on the side with the words, Lakeside Fire Department. Six armed soldiers in black tactical gear and automatic rifles exited the vehicles followed by a slender Asian-American woman, dressed in a dark red trench coat and long crimson dress.

Violet rose as the soldiers surrounded her, weapons drawn. She had not brought her hatchet, but clenched her fists tightly as she began to study her opponent's stances and how they distributed their weight. The woman in red walked up with a large smile on her face.

"Please! This is no way to treat our esteemed guest." She said, breaking through the circle of troops and facing Violet.

Slowly, but confidently, she pulled the young girl in for an embrace. Violet returned the hug apprehensively. Letting go, the woman spoke.

"My dear girl. My name is Commander Minh. I was behind your creation, and I will be here to train you going forward. Anything you desire, I can provide. I am your friend, and you have no need to fear me." Commander Minh stated. Raising her hand, she placed it on Violet's face. "Such a beautiful face. I can see much behind your eyes. I am curious though, why the Joes agreed to my demands so quickly. They wouldn't be planning anything would they?" She asked, taking a step forward.

"No. I had trapped one of their teammates in the room where I was being held. I used it as leverage once they submitted to your demands." Violet replied.

Her expression revealed nothing. Commander Minh leaned so her face was right by Violet's. Sniffing oddly, she smelled the base of Violet's neck and shoulders before retreating with a crooked expression.

"No, I don't believe you're lying. I have studied how, you see. But you are special." The Commander said, glancing at the troops stationed around her. "So a test!" She proclaimed. "Yes, we'll call it an assessment of your skills, as well as your muster." The Commander said, moving her way behind the troops.

"Kill her." Minh commanded.

Hesitantly, the troopers raised their guns. Violet jumped sideways, throwing her shoulder into a soldier's chest, and wrenching him in front of her. The other soldiers fired, killing their teammate in a shower of bullets. Ducking behind her human shield, Violet unstrapped two knives holstered to his belt and removed his sidearm.

Hurling one of the knives, it lodged into a trooper's right thigh. As he dropped to the ground, Violet saw a smoke canister attached to his chest. Aiming, she fired, exploding the bomb as a plume of gray enveloped them all. Moving quickly, she ran to the downed trooper and kicked him unconscious. Taking his knife, she raced to the next soldier and swung, knocking the tip of his rifle down. A string of fire went off causing chaos around the remaining men.

Elbowing the fighter, he dropped to the ground motionless, but alive. Delivering a jump kick, she knocked another back into a tree, and then crouched, punching the next in the side of the knee. Breaking the joint cleanly, she drove her head up, knocking him down end over end.

As the smoke cleared, she darted side to side, avoiding fire from the last trooper. Throwing her knife, it lodged in the tip of the soldier's weapon, exploding in his hands as he continued to shoot. Flying back, he landed sprawled out on the sand. Clapping happily, Commander Minh walked over, congratulating Violet.

"Bravo! Bravo!" She exclaimed, laughing as she moved to the closest trooper.

Removing a Glock from inside her jacket, she shot the soldier in the head. Then, efficiently she executed the other guards who were lying unconscious on the ground.

"They were your men." Violet said.

"They failed. What use are they to me?" Commander Minh stated, holstering her weapon. Walking over to Violet, she examined her cautiously. "Do you not approve?" She asked. Violet shook her head.

"No, it is a just sentence for their ineptitude." Violet replied. Commander Minh's warm expression returned.

"I couldn't have said it better myself. Please, help me put these men in one of the SUVs." Commander Minh said, motioning to the red fire vehicles.

Violet moved the bodies of the dead troopers into one of the trucks. Opening the passenger door, Minh removed three of the soldier's grenades. Popping the pins, she tossed them into the SUV as they both hurried to the other vehicle. Pulling back quickly, the other truck exploded in fire and flames. Turning on the sirens, Violet and Commander Minh tore off down the dirt road.

Chapter 43

Commander Minh turned off the sirens on the fire truck as they neared the abandoned airfield. Shuttered in the 1940s, the long natural runway was used primarily for small passenger and cargo planes. During its heyday, weekly Ford Tri-motor flights would land, carrying vacationers from Albany, Saratoga, and Toronto. The only remnants of the airport was a decaying open hangar set in front of a massive oak tree.

Getting out of the vehicle, Minh and Violet walked toward a Challenger 650 private jet parked on the natural runway. As they neared, the cabin door opened and ten armed guards poured out with two men in pilot uniforms. Saluting the Commander, one of the guards took her bag and graciously led them up the stairs into the plane.

The interior of the plane was an off white with large leather cushioned seats. A small table was laid out to their left, flanked by a long couch to their right. Additional seats lined the back of the cabin by a full bar and set of washrooms. Commander Minh took a seat by the table and gestured Violet to sit next to her.

Buckling in, the cabin door rose shut as the pilots began turning the plane toward one end of the runway. As the plane got ready to take off, Minh gently grabbed on to Violet's hand, giving her a warm smile. Violet returned it, staring blankly ahead as the plane began to hurtle down the airfield.

A loud pop came from the font of the plane. Looking forward, the left pilot's head was limp, bouncing to its side. A small hole was pierced through the windshield. The other pilot grabbed his stick and turned the plane right, ahead of another splattering of gunfire which pelted the front of the plane. As they moved toward the tree line for cover, there was another pop, and the second pilot's head snapped back, a splatter of blood spraying the window.

One of the guards had yelled for them to take cover as another ran to the pilots to try to steer the plane. Coming to a slow stop by the edge of the forest, the soldiers, Commander Minh, and Violet exited to their right, taking cover behind the aircraft. One of the guards surveyed and reported that the gunfire was coming from the tree and the abandoned hangar.

"How long till our reinforcements arrive?" Commander Minh demanded.

"Ten minutes." Replied the lead guard. "We can hold them off till then." He said confidently, motioning to another teammate.

Two soldiers opened a long black case they brought out of the plane. Opening it, they removed a pair of JC2 rocket launchers. One of the guards set up the weapon before heaving it on his shoulder, aiming at the hangar.

"This should bring the tree down as well." The team leader reported to Minh and Violet.

Setting his sights straight, the soldier pulled back on the trigger. As he fired, a throwing knife shot out of the woods behind them, hitting the trooper in the back of the neck. Careening his head upward while screaming, the rocket shot wide, exploding in the far off forest. As they turned around to the trees, four other knives shot out from the woods, taking down another two guards.

"Move, you idiots! Forward!" Commander Minh shouted.

Her troops laid down a line of fire as they approached the trees. Listening, the only thing they heard was a hoot from a morning dove. Then, there was a rustle in the bush. A few troopers let out a string of fire before the team leader shouted for them to cease. Straining to hear, they jumped back as a loud growl that sounded like a lawn mower echoed back at them.

Raising their rifles, the troops took another few steps inward before Lionel attacked. Screaming and yelling to each other, the soldiers fired frantically, trying to catch the furry brown blur that strategically and swiftly took them out. Again, the only sound was the cooing of doves.

Now alone, Commander Minh removed her Glock pistol and aimed it directly between Violet's eyes.

"You! You could have had everything! Anything!" She yelled.

Her eyes were red and wet as her face contorted in rage. Violet stood still, looking back with an empty expression that revealed nothing. Adjusting her grip, Minh's index finger wrapped around the trigger.

Before she fired, a set of loud booming noises came from above her. Looking up, she saw nothing but the trees swaying uncannily in an unknown wind. The booming changed to an echoing whoop as the ground beneath them began to shake.

"Commander!" Came a distant shout from above.

Raising her head high, Commander Minh watched the Combat F.A.N.G. chopper reveal itself as it deactivated its cloaking device. The side door was open, and Blue Jaye was aiming an arrow directly at her. Acting on instincts, Minh turned her attention back to Violet, straightening her arm to fire.

The shot went wide as an arrow went straight through Commander Minh's arm. Screaming in pain, Minh dropped to one knee, her gun falling to her side. Looking up and cursing aloud, she watched Blue Jaye pull back on her bow and fire again.

Helpless, Commander Minh tracked the arrow as it raced toward her. Before impact however, the tip of the arrow opened and a net expanded wide, covering and knocking her to the ground. A mechanism in the net sealed it tight as Minh strained to get out.

As the chopper landed, Blue Jaye, the Baroness, and Flint walked out. From the tree and hangar, Oakley and the Sherriff ran over. And emerging from the woods, Zanya and Lionel moved toward Violet and Commander Minh. Slowly, Violet raised her hand and smiled at them as they arrived.

Chapter 44

Blue Jaye walked down the soft white linoleum tile past the mess hall of their underground base. In addition to the mess hall, the Baroness revealed two additional labs, sleeping quarters, and a recreation room with a pool table and vintage pin ball machines from the 1980s. There was also the arsenal where they found the two combat F.A.N.G. helicopters to capture Commander Minh. Along with the helicopters was a tank, two light-weight speed boats, ten all-terrain combat four-wheelers, scuba gear, and an extensive weapons cache.

Walking toward the arsenal balcony, she thought back to her first mission, when she met Flint. Then, she and Cricket were known as Jessie and Elise, and Jason, the soon to be Sherriff were seniors at Lakeside University. She couldn't have imagined the events that led up to the present, and how she, and her friends and teammates have grown.

Flint was headed with the Baroness and Violet to Spirit's undisclosed seaside safe zone. Blue Jaye swore Flint up and down he would come back and visit, especially since she had a Thanksgiving dinner planned in their new mess hall. General Spirit and General Breaker were running the overall operation at their command center in Reston, Virginia, but Beachhead was forced to retire. His injuries, along with his underlying heart condition made it a tough but easy decision. Quick Kick offered to take him back to his home and restaurant in Chinatown, Boston. Beachhead seemed genuinely excited to spend his retirement making egg rolls and helping inner-city youths with their jump shots.

Commander Minh was being processed and shipped south to the team's maximum security prison in Nevada. It turned out she had been bluffing about the bombs. While she said there were twenty, there were really only fourteen. All those fourteen were duds. The Commander was to be tried by a secret military tribunal since her true identity was declared dead years prior. The hope was that severing the head of the Cobra terrorist organization would dissipate their activity for the near future.

Reaching the arsenal balcony, Blue Jaye leaned on the railing, looking down at the large underground warehouse. The Sherriff and Oakley were finishing the final details on the new paint job for the F.A.N.G.s, which were now completely olive green with open tiger mouths. Looking past the helicopters, she saw Zanya, helping Cricket unload a pallet of MRE Orange Creamsicle cookies. They had sacrificed a box to Lionel who was happily eating them on the floor.

Laughing to herself, she realized that for the first time since her days at the University, the future seemed wide open and hopeful. Deep down inside, she knew it wasn't going to last forever, but she also knew savoring it was the best thing to do. Taking another deep breath, she leaned forward, watching her team with pride.

Epilogue 1

Three months later

Sister Joan and Sister María stood at the end of the church driveway, helping Father McCabe back in the large F-250 truck. Parking successfully, the Father and Professor Ben hopped out, moving to the back of the vehicle to unlatch the bungie cords that were tied around two large charcoal grills. The sky above them was Capri blue with no clouds to be seen. The warm summer sun beat down as a pair of Cardinals sang out.

"Thank you again Father, and Professor, for helping get everything set up for our annual summer barbeque." Sister Joan said, hopping up into the cab to help get the grills off the truck bed.

"Not a problem at all. You know I will do anything for your famous chocolate peanut butter pie." Professor Ben said, hefting a grill down to the ground.

"I've made sure you will have an extra slice." Sister Joan replied, helping Father McCabe with the second grill. "I just hope we will raise enough money to cover the overhead for another year."

"We always do. The barbeque is one of our largest gatherings, and the weather is supposed to be perfect. Please, Sister. Have faith." Father McCabe said. "Sherriff Smith and Jaye will be here later today to drop off the burgers, stuffed peppers, and kielbasa. Also, make sure to tell the Sherriff he still owes me for the hockey finals." He smiled, raising his eyebrows a couple of times.

"I will have no part of your gambling or childish games. You will have to tell him yourself." Sister Joan said playfully, crossing her arms, ending the conversation.

The trio continued to chat as Professor Ben worked to grab the bags of charcoal out of his truck. Sister María had walked across the church green to meet the mail man. Grabbing a few letters, she started the walk back, opening a large manila envelope.

Suddenly, she let out a yelp, silencing the other three. They watched as she crossed herself, calling out to the heavens before running the rest of the way to meet them. She was out of breath, rambling off in Spanish, holding the contents of the letter to the sky.

"Mercy child!" Sister Joan exclaimed. "What has gotten into you?" She asked.

Sister María's eyes were wide and wet. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she smiled, laughed, and cried uncontrollably.

"!Hemos sido salvados!" She yelled, finally giving the letter and the rest of the mail to Sister Joan before running into the church.

"We've been saved?" Professor Ben translated, as he and Father McCabe leaned in. Sister Joan gasped aloud before shakily starting to speak.

"It's from the archbishop. Our parish has just received a donation from an anonymous donor in the amount of two-and-a-half million dollars." She said, trailing off a bit at the end.

Handing the letter to Father McCabe, he read it before starting to dance happily in the drive. With disbelief, Sister Joan looked at the other letters that arrived in the mail. One was a bill from the electric department, but the other was addressed to her. It was handwritten and there was no return address. Looking at the postmark, it was from Bangor, Maine. She didn't know anyone who lived that far north. Opening the envelope she found a hand written letter. It read.

Dear Sister Joan,

I hope life is treating you well. I wanted to again thank you for helping me that one day when I really needed someone. I have, and never will forget it. God bless you, and in addition to my donation, I wanted to give you something special. Thank you from all my heart.

Violet

The Sister couldn't remember meeting anyone named Violet, but she suspected who it was. With her own eyes getting teary, she looked in the envelope and pulled out a packet of tickets. Flipping through, her mouth opened in shock as she realized she was holding a set of season tickets for the Boston Red Sox. Looking more closely, she saw each was marked with exclusive clubhouse access. Bringing the tickets and letter to her chest, she crossed herself, and closed her eyes smiling.

"Bless you my child." She whispered before beginning to pray in the warm summer day.

Epilogue 2

Commander Minh sat in an orange jump suit on a steel bench, looking down at a plate of food. Salisbury steak, au gratin potatoes, and a side of fresh green beans under a cherry balsamic reduction. While miles below the surface in an underground prison, they did feed their inmates well, she thought to herself staring at the untouched meal.

She knew this was all temporary, her cell, her confinement. The resources she had at the tips of her fingers were currently working their legalese and eventually, she would walk free. What was really eating at her was the fact she lost. She had been betrayed again, and by the same team of Joes. Revenge was a forethought. It was just a matter of time till she thought of exactly how she was going to retaliate. Luckily, at the moment, time was on her side.

Eventually, the plan would reveal itself. It always did. She would just have to wait, watch, and reflect. There was much to review, much to go over, she thought to herself as a younger looking man sat down on the other side of the table in front of her.

His face, features, and musculature told Minh he was in his late-twenties, in his prime, and in excellent shape. However, his eyes told her something else. They were dark and deep, polished, like antiques. He smiled wide below a set of strong high cheekbones.

"Salisbury steak day is one of my favorites." He said in a soft, cool, tone. "Though unfortunately, the lack of Cabernet prevents the ultimate pairing for the taste buds."

Minh looked at him curiously. His accent and way of speaking was archaic, but charming. Like a vintage from the Victorian era. He grinned coyly.

"There is a cherry apple seltzer that does work well though." The man said soothingly as he turned around and motioned to a large African-American guard standing by the door. "Barney? If you wouldn't mind fetching us a couple of the club sodas I enjoy?" He asked politely.

Amazed, Commander Minh watched as the powerful guard begrudgingly walked to the cafeteria counter. A few moments later, he returned, placing two plastic cups full of sparkling water on the table. Trudging back to his post, he stared silently ahead.

"Much thanks, Barney." The man said, taking a long sip of his beverage. He turned back to Minh. "I help Barney from time to time, for which I receive small favors."

"What do you help with?" Minh asked curiously.

"Solving problems." Serpentor replied. "And from what a little bird has informed me, it sounds like you have a mighty large problem that needs solving."

For the first time since her recent incarceration, Minh felt a surge of confidence. Looking at the young man in front of him, she grabbed the cup of seltzer and took a sip. It was tasty. Smiling, she placed down the beverage.

"As a matter of fact, I do." She responded.

Afterward

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story. Next, I will be working on a short tale on what Tommy and Jinx were up to during this story before taking a little time off. Then, I will return with the one more tale in the Blue Jaye saga (there will be a larger time jump). Thanks again for reading!