Perseus sucked up the last bit of carcinogenic bliss from his cigarette and then flicked it off the balcony, sending it tumbling through the cool Hong Kong night, where it would eventually plummet on some unsuspecting passerby. Or maybe it would connect with the roof of a car, sending bright sparks flickering across the metal rooftop.
The Spartan contemplated lighting another cigarette. It would postpone, for a few moments longer, the unpleasant duty he would fulfill this night. Lei Wu Long had gone insane, and he possessed the means and the desire to destroy all of Hong Kong. But he was also one of Perseus' few remaining friends, and Perseus always found it difficult to slay a friend. And yet, inevitably it seemed, he played the executioner for too many of them. Ivan. Verathragna. Emily. Rudolfo. Kezant. All former friends, former comrades, former lovers. All put out of the Game by Perseus. And now, one more friend teetered on the brink of oblivion, and it was Perseus' duty to give him that final push over the edge, into death.
Rather than light that cigarette, he checked his watch. Ten-thirty. Shelley and Tyr were waiting for him downstairs, having returned from their trip into the city to purchase a few items for tonight's raid. A raid set to commence in twenty minutes. Yet still the Spartan stood on the tiny balcony of his hotel room, looking across the abyss of the city streets, his eyes drawn to the shimmering tower of the Phoenix Building, lit up like a tree on Christmas Eve. There Lei waited for Perseus, waited to die in a final battle that, perhaps, was predestined by that scuffle with the demon, nine hundred years ago.
And then, inexplicably, the hundreds of tiny lights that illuminated the Phoenix Building blinked out. Perseus' jaw involuntarily dropped open. He waited, breathless, for the explosion to begin, and he felt relief that he had failed, that Lei had won and Perseus did not have to make that last, terrible blow.
The explosion did not come. Nor did the lights come back on. The Phoenix Building remained dark and silent. And it waited.
He produced that cigarette after all, and lit it with hands that would not cease trembling. For two and a half millennia he had been a warrior, and still he felt the pre-battle jitters. No, it wasn't that. He was afraid. Afraid that, even knowing the depth of Lei's madness and evil, he would not be able to end it. Or worse, that even if he did, the weapon Lei had created would still go off, slaying millions.
He glanced at his watch again. Ten thirty-five. Too much deliberation. He left the balcony, and the room, and headed for the elevator. His destiny beckoned, and he would not -- he *could* not -- let his fears rule him. He was Spartan, and he would fulfill his duty.
Shelley and Tyr waited in the lobby. While Tyr lounged comfortably against a sofa, his arms crossed and his eyes scanning the room, Shelley looked extremely uncomfortable. No doubt her expression had something to do with the items in the backpack slung across her shoulder.
Perseus ignored the dirty looks of the staff and clientele as he crossed the space between the elevators and his companions, puffing on his cigarette. "You're late," Tyr groused.
"Couldn't be helped," Perseus returned, reaching for and taking the pack from Shelley. She gave him a grateful smile. Perseus unzipped the pack a bit and checked the interior. Through the newspapers, added to muffle any possible clinking noises, he could make out at least one of the guns Shelley and Tyr bought. He assumed the special ammunition was in there as well. Perseus smiled grimly around his cigarette and zipped the pack up. "Let's roll," he said.
"The Phoenix Building just had a brownout," he told them as they headed for the doors. Tyr gave him a quizzical look. "My guess," Perseus explained, "is that someone else is hunting our quarry."
Tyr thought a moment, holding the door open for Shelley and Perseus as the trio exited the hotel. "Americans?" Tyr finally said.
Perseus nodded. "That's my guess. Probably Code Seven if it is."
Tyr shook his head angrily. "The damn Mystery Council," he muttered.
Shelley opened her mouth to ask a question, but after a glare from Perseus, she shut it. Now was not the time for questions. Perhaps if they all made it out alive, Perseus would explain to her about the Mystery Council and their political machinations. And just how bothersome it all was to the Old Guard like Tyr and himself.
"The car is this way," Tyr said, gesturing with his good hand.
Perseus followed the motion, and saw a tiny red compact. The car looked like it had been manufactured in Tibet, and rolled down the mountains into China, where it picked up stickers -- bumper and otherwise -- of all kinds. Perseus froze in his tracks. "We're going in that thing?" he said incredulously. Tyr looked away.
Shelley shrugged. "After our other... purchases, there wasn't much left to spend on transportation." Perseus cursed and spat out his cancer-stick. Shelley and Tyr exchanged a look behind Perseus' back as the older Immortal headed for the car.
The ride wasn't as bad as Perseus thought it would be, especially since he insisted on driving. The traffic was fairly light for a Saturday night in the busiest port in Asia, and a seasoned campaigner like Perseus had little trouble navigating through the congested streets. In less time than he anticipated, he found the Phoenix Building.
Since the transformation from fishing village to trading center first took place, there had been a building dedicated to the Phoenix Trading Conglomerate. In 1898, it had been a sizable brick structure, dominating a corner in the center of town. In 1914, the company purchased a plot of land on the north side of the bay, where a rocky promontory thrust out over the water. There, now calling itself the Phoenix Company, the organization built one of the first skyscrapers in Hong Kong. In 1953, they tore it down, and began constructing the steel and glass tower that now rose from the cliff. In 1957 it re-opened, and the Phoenix Corporation began its reign. Constant modifications of the interior of the tower went on for thirty years.
Over the years, the Phoenix Corporation gobbled up the land around their corporate headquarters, installing a parking lot and then a beautiful park that spread out in concentric rings around the tower. Tyr had not been here in over two decades, but he guided their way through the gates and into the arcade easily enough. Perseus parked the car in the mostly empty lot, and the three Immortals exited the battered vehicle. Though the building itself lacked lighting, a dull glow from the city cast enough illumination for them to make their way through the gloom.
Perseus looked up. The building was nondescript, square, and blocky. Very utilitarian. Lei always favored function over form, but Perseus had to admit that, compared to the rest of the city's architecture, Lei's home looked ugly and primitive.
Shelley tugged at his elbow, and Perseus was brought firmly back to Earth. Two police cars were parked outside the front doors, trying to figure out how to get in. One of the officers noticed the newcomers, and was motioning for them to come forward. Perseus gave Shelley an insolent grin and strode forward purposely.
"Good evening sirs," he said in rapid fire Cantonese.
"Good evening," the closest cop said. He was a young man, and trying hard to grow an authoritative looking mustache. Behind him, his partner turned, and regarded the Westerners. His nose pinched in consternation, and Perseus could see this man was more grizzled than the other.
The older policeman took charge. "What are you doing here? Do you know anything about this power outage?"
Perseus reached out with his Quickening to all four policemen, and raised his voice so that the two men near the door would hear him. "There is nothing wrong here," he told them. "And you never saw any of us." The four men looked at him blankly for a moment. One of them resisted, but Perseus carefully nudged him with the Quickening. "It is time for you to leave," he told them. The four men proceeded to get in their cars -- blank expressions fixed on their faces -- and depart.
As their lights receded, Shelley let out a large breath. "Holy Jedi mind tricks, Batman," she said. "How did you do that?"
Perseus unzipped the backpack as he answered. "It is a trick similar to your own psychic abilities, though infinitely more subtle and less likely to cause brain damage." Shelley's head pulled back, eyes wide and nostrils flaring, as if she'd been struck. Perseus regretted his harsh words, but did not retract them. Instead, he reached into the backpack and pulled out a submachine pistol. He tossed it to Tyr, who captured it gamely with his good hand. The next gun went to Shelley, who accepted it with trepidation. Perseus pulled out the last one, a heavy pistol, and thrust it into his belt.
He ripped the newspapers out of the pack and handed it to Shelley. "You can carry the ammo," he said.
"Gee, thanks," Shelley said. "Now, how do we get in?"
"Allow me," offered Tyr, making his gun disappear into the folds of his coat. Shelley's eyes widened in surprise as Tyr produced his sword, a huge two-handed weapon called a Pok Dau. Perseus shook his head with amusement. Only Tyr would use a Pok Dau one handed, and with better skill than any two handed man.
Tyr ignored the revolving doors and stepped up to the wall-sized front window. The facing side was protected by a gate of heavy metal bars that were locked in place for security purposes. They were designed to keep people like the Hong Kong police outside. But even Lei had not designed a security system to keep an Immortal from entering the building.
Or had he? For the first time that night, Perseus allowed himself to entertain the notion that Lei *wanted* him to come, *wanted* Perseus to win, to put an end to his insanity.
Tyr took a stance like a batter at the plate, and swung a titanic blow at the bars and the glass beyond. Electricity sparked as the Pok Dau sheared through steel bars and shattered glass. Shelley took an involuntary step backward. Tyr continued his attack, and after a few more swipes, he opened up a human-sized hole.
He took a step back to admire his handiwork and check his blade. He grinned. "Not a scratch," he said. "They really knew how to build them in the old days."
Perseus rolled his eyes at his friend and brushed past him to enter the building. Once inside, he took a few steps to make way for those who followed him, and then let his eyes adjust to the darkened interior. The lobby was expansive and marked in several places by bullet holes and bloodstains. Perseus' earlier suspicions were confirmed. Another of Lei's enemies was loose in the building. It was, all things considered, a stroke of luck. Whoever had cleared the lobby saved Perseus and his companions a lot of trouble, and, more than likely, they were attending to the other floors and dangers in the building. As well, Perseus, Tyr, and Shelley might be able to slip through all the chaos undetected, especially if Phoenix Security was tied up dealing with someone else.
Tyr brushed past Perseus and entered the room, surveying the wreckage. "No bodies," he mused. "Wonder why they moved the bodies and didn't mop up the blood."
Shelley navigated her way through the window, and just managed to catch the last bit of what Tyr was saying. "The glass is tinted," she explained, brushing bits of glass off her coat sleeve. "Its hard to make out the subtler signs of conflict." Her lip curled in disgust as she saw the blood and gobbets of flesh stuck to the front desk. "But you could still see the bodies from the street."
"That makes sense," Tyr said.
Perseus ignored the two and made his way toward the elevators. To his dismay, he discovered them all out of order. Perhaps their unknown allies were more nuisance than boon after all. He called down the hallway to his companions. "The elevators are a bust. We'll have to take the stairs." He ignored Shelley's groan of disgust.
Pain lanced across Falcone's abdomen as a red hot slug ripped into him. He answered with a few booming blasts from his shotgun that blew through the flimsy, hastily made cover of the security forces. Modern desks, for all their aesthetic style, could not repel a 12 gauge slug.
Falcone heard gunfire in the hall behind him as Calatin and Baron cleared out another nest of Long's guards. Falcone knew they were making excellent progress -- in only twenty minutes they were on the fourteenth floor -- but still the captured nuclear weapon eluded them. Falcone was beginning to believe Long had put the bomb somewhere on the top floors, and he feared that the systematic securing of the lower floors, while certainly by the book, would make them too late to halt the detonation of the bomb.
Falcone quickly reloaded his weapon and checked the other side of the barrier. Two men lay on the other side. One bled profusely from a chest wound. The other wasn't breathing at all. Falcone briefly debated whether to end the dying man's suffering or not, and decided he couldn't waste ammunition like that. He dodged out of the room, hoping his conscience would leave him alone until this mission was over.
Unlike his companions, Falcone had studied Lei Wu Long. He knew a little bit of the man's history, relayed to him by his mentor, who had known Long many years ago. He knew Long suffered from delusions of power and had suffered visions of fiery Armageddon for centuries. He knew, too, that Lei Wu Long would not hesitate to push the button that would end millions of lives in a brief flash of light. He knew and he feared that no matter how skilled or well prepared he was, he would prove unequal to the task ahead of him.
Immortal for only a few years, Falcone had no illusions about being able to take Lei Wu Long in a fair fight. But the stakes were too high for something noble and stupid like that. Falcone's only hope was that Lei, an older, more experienced Immortal, would be unprepared for Falcone's unconventional ideas. Hopefully, Long wouldn't expect a couple mercury tipped slugs in the gut.
Falcone made a quick check of the few rooms left on his end of the hall and found them both empty. He headed back to the stairs to meet his comrades. Baron was already there, jamming a fresh clip into her M-16. She noticed the wound in Falcone's side, and asked him about it. Falcone said something about it being a flesh wound and nothing to worry about. In truth, the wound healed almost as soon as it was inflicted, and only a torn shirt and a small amount of blood indicated Falcone was harmed at all.
"Hey, guys -- I think I found something!" Calatin's harsh whisper brought Falcone and Baron's attention back to the matter at hand. Both began moving towards where Calatin stood -- in the midst of a doorway, his gun held loosely in his right hand -- as soon as he spoke.
Behind the Sergeant, Falcone could see some kind of lab setup, complete with smooth, black topped tables and cold, sterile machinery. Baron, a few steps ahead of Falcone, was almost on top of Calatin when a sinuous creature unwound itself behind and above the former SEAL.
Baron froze in her tracks, her mouth agape, and her hand slack on the grip of her gun. Calatin saw her expression, and turned as the silvery-green snake like creature moved. It blurred as it uncoiled itself, moving faster than Falcone's eyes could follow, though he raised his shotgun in a desperate attempt to save his friend. He was too slow. Even as his finger tightened on the trigger, the monster extended claw tipped arms and casually ripped Calatin in half.
Blood and gore exploded across the room as the creature continued its movement, ripping through Calatin's body and slithering across the hall towards Baron and Falcone. Falcone reacted, sending slug after slug into the creature. Amazingly, it dodged his first shot and almost avoided the second. The bullet ripped into its shoulder and slowed it long enough for Falcone to score a hit high on the thing's chest.
As Falcone aimed and unloaded another shot into the monster's writhing body, Baron regained control of her motor functions and raised her rifle. She flicked it on full auto and emptied her entire magazine into the beast. When the chatter of gunfire faded, there wasn't much of the creature left to examine, but Falcone knew what it was.
It was a Naga, a member of an Indian subset of the Demonic race, a creature that exhibited both human and serpentine qualities. The speed of the Naga was legendary, as was its ferocity. Falcone could only guess as to why a Demon would ally itself with an Immortal, but he assumed that, since the beast resorted to physical attacks immediately, it had been an immature specimen. Falcone tried to ignore what that might mean.
"What the fuck was that?" Baron said, her voice shaky with shock as she loaded her weapon once again. CIA trained assassin she might be, but Demons were outside her sphere of reality.
"I don't know," Falcone lied. "But there's no telling how many more of them are around." That much was true. The Council assured him that Lei was working alone. Perhaps they meant no other Immortal was aiding him. It wouldn't have been the first time they withheld vital information from a field agent. They weren't supposed to do that to a member of the Council itself, though. True, Falcone had only sat at that table for fifty years, but fifty years ought to have meant something.
He really hated being double crossed or unsupported. Especially at a time like this. Lei literally held the lives of millions in his hands. The Council should have warned him about the possibility of other supernaturals aiding the insane Immortal.
Falcone made a decision. "Vic," he said, "this creature changes things. I don't think we can afford to do this floor by floor. We're going to the top *now*."
Baron looked away from the carnage to meet Falcone's eyes. She wet her lips. "Yeah." She was scared. And only human. Falcone had an edge that she lacked, as well as knowledge she was not privy to. She was actually taking this better than he did, all those years ago.
Falcone headed for the stairwell again, trying to shove his doubts and insecurities out of his mind.
"What about Justin?" Baron asked. Another sign of her fear. Baron was a professional; had Calatin died by normal means, she would not have shown this kind of hesitation.
"There's nothing we can do for him now," Falcone said, as gently as he could, and trying to keep the fear out of his own voice. "We've got to keep moving."
Baron nodded, and followed him.
Perseus took the stairs two at a time. He hopped over the occasional body left in their way, and reached out with his senses, trying to find Lei. Behind him, Tyr's long legs enabled him to keep stride with the swift moving Greek, but Shelley was lagging behind.
While Shelley had come to accept the basic tenets of Immortal existence -- kill or be killed -- she had not yet made her first kill. And the kind of carnage she witnessed in the Phoenix Building was foreign to her. To think that all these bodies they found had once been living, breathing people with thoughts and dreams and ambitions, snuffed out quickly and brutally, was offensive and alien to her.
She looked at the heavy lump of metal in her hand and remembered how much she hated guns. The silver bullets -- her idea, but she never really took into account the possibility that she might have to pull the trigger. It was all well and good if Perseus did it, but not her. She recognized the hypocrisy of this reasoning, but couldn't help feeling it. Her initial death had been caused by a bullet, and since then she had hated guns -- yet she realized that the creatures serving Lei could only be the most foul and contemptible monsters on Earth. Who else could be privy to the genocide that Lei planned?
They all deserved death, but Shelley, no matter how much she saw the right of it, knew she could not herself fire a weapon in anger or hatred. Perhaps not even to defend herself. Her one consolation was knowing Perseus was strong enough for both of them. He would do what had to be done.
Perseus rounded a corner on the stairway and slid to a halt. On the landing above him stood an imposing figure. Larger than man-sized, it was dressed in traditional garb; a silk shirt belted at the waist and open at the collar, loose pants and tight slippers. But it was not a man. At least, not in the traditional sense.
The skin was sallow and calcified, looking crusted and hard. The head was bald, with heavy brow ridges over glowing red eyes. The nose was a nub of recessed flesh, hardly noticeable at all, and the lipless mouth was filled with jagged, sharpened shark's teeth. The forehead had a small tattoo: a crimson circle, with two vertical silver slashes through it.
Its most impressive features, however, were its forearms. Both arms were muscular and powerful, but the forearms bulged out grotesquely into thick humps of flesh dotted here and there by bony spikes poking through the skin. As Perseus watched, the creature tightened its fists, and from both sides of each wrist erupted a twelve inch, bony claw, razor sharp and deadly.
Perseus' mouth narrowed to a thin line. He hated fighting Nightbreed. They were unpredictable, stronger than mortals, and possessed unique, often deadly, talents. Behind him, Tyr clucked appreciatively. Shelley caught up to them, and Perseus heard the sharp intake of breath that told him the girl had seen something else that opened her mind to the possibilities of the universe.
She really did have so much potential.
Perseus handed his gun to Tyr, who juggled it carefully, and then he drew his sword. He took a step towards the Nightspawn. "Let's do this," he said.
As the Nightspawn crouched, ready to pounce, Perseus moved. He leapt up and flowed into a spinning kick. The Nightspawn moved to counter, bringing its claws up to block him. But the Immortal had anticipated this, and shifted his direction slightly in mid-air. His feet came down on the railing of the stairwell, and he fought to keep his balance as his hand snapped forward, letting his short sword fly through the air. Momentarily surprised, the Nightbane was slow to react, and the sword buried itself in his forehead, neatly bisecting the silver slashes of his tattoo. As the body fell backward, Perseus bounced onto the stairs and ran up them to the Nightspawn.
He wrenched the sword free, and, before the monster could recover from the awful wound, he decapitated it with a swift blow. He looked back at his companions. "C'mon," he said, and then resumed his run.
Shelley tugged at Tyr's elbow. "Did he just do what I think he just did?" she asked.
Tyr grinned and gave her a brief shrug. "Perseus does the impossible. It's what he's best at." With that, he bounded up the stairs after his friend. Shelley shook her head and followed close behind.
Falcone and Baron ran up four flights of stairs without any sign of resistance. Falcone's trigger finger was getting itchy, and he could tell Baron was nervous. Neither of them was looking forward to encountering another unearthly creature. And around every bend in the stairwell, in every shadow cast by an overhang, a phantom lurked, promising a quick and painful death.
Falcone knew that the psychological toll was heavier on Baron than himself, but he could still feel his nerves fraying at the edges. Whether an Immortal took his head with a sword or a Naga ripped him in half, the end result would be the same. He would be dead as any mortal, and though Falcone had not feared death in decades, he had too much to do before he could die.
And then, he felt it. There, at the very border of his enhanced senses, he felt the presence of another Immortal. From below... somewhere an Immortal followed him. It could only be Lei. Falcone drew to a halt, and Baron took a few steps of her own before stopping. She looked back at him questioningly.
"Someone is following us," Falcone said. "Keep going. I'll be along shortly."
Baron's eyes betrayed her fear. "Vince... if its one of those things..."
Falcone shook his head. "Whatever happens, it won't reach you. Just find that bomb and do your job." Baron nodded, some of the steel returning to her gaze with his words. She took off up the stairs, her head high and her rifle ready.
Falcone stood and waited. When he realized there was more than one Immortal following him, he almost regretted staying behind. But he knew where his duty lay. Lei Wu Long and his allies had to die.
Perseus hesitated in his breakneck pace up the stairs only a fraction when he felt the presence of an Immortal up ahead. Vanderhurst's Watcher database did not mention any students in Lei's entourage. That didn't mean one or two weren't around though. Perseus knew well enough that the Watchers weren't always exact, and that their knowledge could be manipulated. And it didn't seem like Lei's style to wait for them in the middle of the stairwell.
Perseus began to slow his pace, taking care to keep from running into a trap. He couldn't help that the Immortal knew he and his friends were there, but he could keep whoever it was guessing. And maybe a little off balance.
Behind him, Tyr sensed the Immortal as well, and slowed his pace accordingly. Shelley instinctively followed suit, as her senses weren't quite as acute as her allies.
"It's just one," Tyr grumbled. "And we ran into the encounter with the 'breed easily enough. Why slow now?"
Perseus spared a glance at his giant friend. "Because its not Lei," he said, as if that explained it.
Tyr shook his shaggy head. Maybe the Spartan was taking this a little too personally. Lei was once Tyr's friend too, but that friendship was absolved the moment Lei threatened to destroy Hong Kong. Perseus hadn't seen Lei, hadn't recognized the madness had finally eaten away at Lei's mind until there was nothing left but dementia and visions of fire. Tyr wondered if Perseus could finish this.
And just as the thought entered his mind, they were on top of the other Immortal. Perseus could feel him standing on the landing just above them. When he rounded the corner in the stairs, he would be able to see whoever it was, and vice versa. He froze, motionless, in the stairwell. Tyr followed his lead, though Perseus could tell by the Viking's expression that he had doubts about the way Perseus was playing this. So be it. He heard Shelley's ragged breathing behind them, and hoped the girl was doing all right.
The three of them stood there, not moving, as seconds slipped into minutes. Perseus could hear the other Immortal breathing, could sense him shifting his feet in impatience. Soon, maybe, he would move. And then Perseus would have him -- he hoped. The fact that the Immortal was showing signs of impatience at all supported the idea that he was young, maybe inexperienced. Though the force of his Buzz suggested otherwise.
Finally, after an eternity of waiting, the Immortal stepped onto the stairs, and leaned over the railing, pointing the muzzle of some heavy gun down at Perseus and Tyr. Perseus snapped into action, using the balustrade as a lever to boost him as he launched into the air and across the gap between the flights of stairs. His shoulder knocked aside the gun as the Immortal pulled the trigger, and his body slammed the man to the ground.
The rifle flew out of his hands, and the Immortal grappled with Perseus, trying to throw the Spartan off of him. Perseus head butted him in the nose, shattering the organ, and then pulled out of the man's grip to begin slamming him in the head with his fists. But he didn't continue with the beating. He recognized the young Immortal. "Dr. Jones, I presume," Perseus gasped. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"
Jones looked balefully up at the Immortal straddling him. "I'm here to kill your friend, Perseus," he spat defiantly.
Jones showed surprise when Perseus got off him and stood up. Perseus extended his hand to help Jones do the same. "Then for once, Jones, we agree on something."
The Immortal, dressed in fatigues with the name "Falcone" emblazoned on his left breast, showed confusion, but took Perseus' hand and lurched to his feet. Tyr and Shelley came into view, and Jones showed more confusion, if that were possible.
"My friends and I are here to deal with Lei as well," Perseus said. His black eyes met Jones' hazel ones. "You know about the bomb?" he asked.
Jones nodded, and hesitantly touched his broken nose as it healed. "Yes, I know about the bomb. The American military was planning on sending a battalion in, but the Council pulled some strings."
Perseus' eyes narrowed. "How many of you are there?"
"Two left, including myself. My partner is looking for the weapon upstairs."
"You sent him ahead by himself?" Tyr asked incredulously.
Perseus glowered. "You may have signed your partner's death warrant, Jones. Whoever he is, he's no match for Lei."
Jones shook his head. "He's a she, actually. And I thought you were Lei."
"A mistake that may well cost her life," Perseus growled. He brushed past Jones and began running up the stairs again. Tyr was at his heels, but the black girl who was with them paused to examine Jones. Her expression suggested that she might have seen Jones before, but he didn't recognize her at all.
He scooped up his shotgun and headed after the older Immortals, hoping that Victoria was all right.
For Perseus, the race up the stairs was becoming torturous. Not in any sort of physical sense; he was conditioned for more strenuous activity than that. No, it was the simple fact that every step he took brought him closer to the reckoning with Lei. He was feeling the weight of his age, and the long years spent fighting and killing one friend after the other.
He could not get the image of Ivan out of his mind. Ivan as the angry young man Perseus found on the steppe and as the evil, hardened warrior he slew in Germany. He failed to save Ivan, and he failed to save Lei as well. Too many times had he found something else to do when his friends needed him. Too many times had he looked away, hoping that someone else would solve the problem. Whatever happened tonight, Perseus knew, no matter how wrong it was, ultimately it could be laid at his feet.
They came across several more bodies, none of whom appeared to be Jones' partner. One of the bodies, a malformed creature, tried to get up as Tyr ran by it, but the Viking ruthlessly ran it through with his blade, and then separated its head from its shoulders. The second Nightspawn may have been able to regenerate from the gun shots, but Tyr made sure it wouldn't get much further.
Shelley stepped over the body gingerly. She still felt uncomfortable around inhuman creatures. Kurt Densmore had at least impressed upon her how kind he was and how engaging a personality he had before showing her his dark side. These other things... no, she couldn't quite countenance them.
Suddenly, Shelley's attention was drawn away from the dead thing. There was gunfire somewhere up ahead. Jones bolted ahead, brushing past Shelley and Tyr, and almost passing Perseus.
Jones and Perseus raced up the stairs and burst onto the landing, coming into sight of Victoria Baron emptying round after round into a huge, catlike creature that seemed able to shed the bullets like rain drops. It advanced on Baron, and barely noticed Perseus, Jones or the others.
Baron noticed them, though, and began backing up towards them as her hail of bullets faltered. The were-creature prepared to pounce.
Jones raised his shotgun, preparing to fire.
Baron stumbled on the first step and went down. Perseus exploded into action, bolting up the stairs and pulling his heavy pistol from the waistband of his pants. The were-creature leapt at Perseus and slashed his chest open with a swipe of its claws. He grimaced as the blood began to flow, and calmly pointed the gun at the monster's face.
It grinned at him, and its left arm pulled back for a lethal strike.
Perseus pulled the trigger, and blew the back of the Lycanthrope's head across the landing. As the body collapsed, Perseus wiped the blood off his face and stepped away from the corpse. He turned and grinned at Baron. "Silver bullets are the way to go," he said. She looked at him like he had suddenly grown a second head. Jones dropped to one knee at her side.
"Its all right, Vic. Perseus is a friend."
She looked from Jones to Perseus, and then back to Tyr and Shelley. "Vince, you mind telling me just what the hell is going on?"
Jones opened his mouth to explain, but Perseus cut him off. As he slipped the gun back into his waistband, he said, "I'm sure Dr. Jones would love to explain what is going on, but, unfortunately, we don't have the time." With that, he stepped over the steaming body of the Lycanthrope and resumed his climb.
Baron gripped Jones' forearm when the Green Beret moved as if to follow Perseus. "Why did he call you Jones?" she asked. Jones gave her a sickly smile.
Shelley almost laughed as she and Tyr passed them.
The top.
Perseus took a moment to catch his breath after he stepped onto the last landing on the fortieth floor. A heavy steel door blocked access to the top floor, but he knew he could get through that. And, truly, he wasn't fatigued at all. The Quickening that healed the gashes in his chest ensured that the fatigue enzymes that affected normal humans simply weren't manufactured by his body. He didn't need to stop.
He wanted to.
Once through that door, it was all over. There would be no going back. But then, he couldn't afford to go back. He strode to the doors and pushed them open easily. Behind him Tyr began to hum a Viking battle hymn, while Shelley carefully drew her saber. Jones and the woman lagged in the rear.
Perseus stepped into the room and looked around. Plush carpeting, lacquered wooden panels, and jade figurines met his scrutiny. The artifacts outlined a great open space, and sitting in the center was a raised dais, upon which was set a huge block of concrete. Directly opposite the doorway was a huge bank of windows that looked out on the the city. Beside the block, lounging in a lawn chair and holding a glass of what appeared to be lemonade, was Lei.
Perseus sucked in an involuntary breath when he saw his old friend. Lei had shaven his head like a monk, perhaps in penitence for the heinous deed he was about to commit. His cheeks were sunken, and his eyes were feverish. Though Lei's clothes were loose, Perseus could tell from Lei's neck and wrists that the man had been fasting for quite some time. Lei was thin and sickly, in as poor condition as an Immortal could get. On the floor beside him, Perseus noted, was Lei's blade, a giau tzu jen, or "snake-headed sawtooth sword." With serrated edges, the weapon could issue vicious wounds, and the twin eye holes at the swords tip created a hissing sound as the blade was swung.
"So, Lei," Perseus said, advancing on the sitting man. "You are prepared to defend yourself. Let us begin." Perseus reached behind him to draw his own sword.
Lei casually sipped his drink and glanced at his watch. "You're late Perseus. I expected you a half hour ago." He smiled that relaxed, understated smile of his, and Perseus' heart twisted in his chest. Lei continued. "But I really don't think I'll be defending anything. As you can see, my old friend, we cannot fight here." Lei gestured behind himself, to the far wall where a small Buddhist shrine had been erected. Incense, newly lit, was just beginning to smoke.
Perseus looked at the shrine in disbelief. "Holy ground," he stuttered. He rounded on Lei. "You bastard."
Lei shrugged. "I never said I would make this easy for you, Percy. Indeed, I warned Tyr what I planned precisely so that he and you could evade the fate I decided for the city." He stood up.
Jones' woman friend stepped past Jones and Shelley and pointed her rifle at Lei. "Just tell us where the bomb is, or you'll suddenly be facing a case of lead poisoning."
Lei grinned. "What colorful language my dear. Well, the bomb is in this room. I'll give you three guesses where, exactly. The first two don't count." Baron shouldered the rifle and sighted along its length.
Perseus took a step towards Lei, his fist clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword.
"No guessers?" Lei said, nonplused. He reached out and rapped the concrete block with his fist. "Its in here. Well protected for now, though when the explosion starts in..." he consulted his watch, "ten minutes, the coating won't much matter." He smiled broadly at the people assembled around him. "I'm afraid you won't have enough time to cut through the concrete. Not without accidentally setting off the bomb yourselves."
Tyr pushed the woman aside before she could fire on Lei. "Holy ground or not, Lei, you're going to die. You and me. Now." Tyr hefted the massive Pok Dau in his right hand.
Shelley sat down, a blank look on her face.
Jones grimaced, and grabbed his friend, pulling her rifle out of her hands and talking to her urgently in a low tone.
Perseus stood stock still. A plan suddenly occurred to him at Tyr's exclamation. He glanced over at the shrine, and then back to Lei and Tyr. It was a desperate plan, one that would cost him the lives of both his friends, but there was no other way. Jones, who would be easier to kill, simply didn't have enough Quickening. It would have to be Tyr or Lei.
But for it to work, Perseus would need the holy ground to be desanctified. And there was only one sure way to do that, no matter how heavy it made his heart. Precious minutes were slipping by. "Tyr," Perseus barked. "Take him."
Both Lei and Tyr looked at Perseus with surprise. Tyr recovered first, however, and lashed out at Lei with a vicious blow. Lei, even emaciated, was quick. He dodged out of the way of Tyr's attack and scooped his sword up from the ground, dancing away from Tyr and the others.
Tyr kicked aside the lawn chair and advanced on Lei. He began to hum that song again, swiping at the air with the heavy executioner's sword. Lei watched him warily, his sword up and his feet spread apart in a defensive stance.
Perseus backed away from the combatants. Jones grabbed his shoulder. "Are you mad, Perseus? This is holy ground!"
Perseus shrugged Jones' hand off of him. "We have less than ten minutes to save this city," he spat. "We can't afford to follow the rules."
Jones was about to argue further, but Perseus pushed him aside.
Lei and Tyr were in the thick of it now, and sparks flew from their blades as their weapons connected. Lei was quick and ruthless, and his darting movements had opened up several minor wounds all over Tyr's body. Tyr had yet to connect a solid blow, but he put all of his strength into each swipe, and it would not be long before Lei's defenses collapsed under the onslaught. And with a weapon like Tyr's, he only needed to hit Lei once.
Perseus felt the time slipping away. How much longer before the device near him went off, destroying millions of lives? Less than five minutes now, surely, and still the combatants fought and swore and bled. Tyr's humming had become a mighty song, swelling from the breast of the Viking. Perseus was out of practice with Old Norse, but he remembered enough to realize Tyr was singing his own death song. "Fuck," Perseus muttered. He took a few steps toward the battle, and then recoiled as a fatal blow was struck.
Lei's head fell from his shoulders, and his shattered sword fell from nerveless fingers as his body collapsed. Tyr stepped away from the body, glancing nervously at the shrine. His chest and arms were criss-crossed with shallow, jagged wounds that bled profusely, dying his shirt scarlet.
Perseus walked forward slowly as Lei's Quickening was released. Arcs of lightning erupted from his prostrate form and spiraled past Tyr to slam into the shrine, shattering it to pieces. The carpet beneath Lei caught fire as the electricity drilled through it, passing through the floor to levels below. Perseus felt the ground shudder beneath him as the Quickening blew apart supports and walls. Perseus knew that, even if he could contain the bomb's explosion, the building would not stand for much longer.
As the Quickening subsided, Tyr fell to his knees, weeping. He dropped his sword to the floor beside Lei's lifeless body. Perseus stepped up behind Tyr. How much time? He couldn't afford to delay. Yet he couldn't do this, could not strike down a man he called friend, not in cold blood. And yet he could not afford not to.
"Tyr, I'm sorry," he whispered. The Viking looked up at him, and his tear streaked eyes seemed to understand what was about to happen. His hand shot out to grab his sword, but it was too late. Perseus struck fast and clean, and Tyr Olafson, eleven hundred year old Immortal, perished. Perseus lurched away from Tyr's body, the old Quechua words tumbling over his lips as the Quickening erupted from his murdered friend.
As Perseus uttered the spell, the force of the Quickening changed form, expanding into a sphere of pulsating energy that hovered over Tyr's body. Perseus ignored the roaring in his ears and the shouts and exclamations of his allies, and concentrated on the Quickening. With his will, he moved it, pushing it across the floor towards the concrete block. With utmost care, he positioned Tyr's life energy around the massive stone block. He felt moisture flowing from his eyes, and could not pause to see if it was tears or blood.
He had to save the city. He had to contain the explosion.
Time slowed down as the pressure between his ears grew. Now was the time to be strong, the time to be Spartan.
And then inexplicably, the darkened room lit up a third time. But the yellow light did not come from the center of the room. Through the great picture windows on the other side of the block, the three Immortals and the human watched in horror as a wave of light exploded on the other side of the city and advanced second by second towards the Phoenix Building.
The flash blackened flesh and seared eyes. And with each breath the wall of destruction grew closer. Shelley only had time to regret her second chance at life. Jones saw the mistakes and hubris of the Mystery Council writ on the advancing wall. Victoria Baron could barely comprehend what was going on.
Perseus knew. Lei had lied about the bomb, and secreted it elsewhere in the city. He played a stacked deck. Perseus saw all his failures coalesce in a fireball that enveloped all of Hong Kong. And as the windows exploded and fire reached out to envelop all of them, he did the only thing he could.
He concentrated.
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