Seeking Answers

         Eric Loupe came to a red light then glanced around. Seeing the intersection was empty on all sides, he went through the red light then put on his blinker and turned into a parking lot. He put the vehicle into park, removed his seatbelt and told the demoness, "Love is an epic friendship set to music. I may not have it in my life right now, but that doesn't mean I don't understand it. Now, please, I'm asking for help – I have nothing in my life right now except the man who rescued me in South Africa. I want to return the favor to him as a matter of honor and respect, but… he's also all I have. I'm not asking any of you to put your lives on the line for me. But I need support. Back up. Someone to watch the car – that's still better than nothing.  Karla, he used to tell me to avoid you… but when we were captured, he told me to find you.  He said this sort of thing is your forte."

“I always get stuck with the amnesia boys.  I must have some strange fetish for guys who can’t remember their past.  Is that sick of me?” She lifted her hand and smiled. “I don’t expect you to understand the joke.  It’s a long story from a long time ago.” Karla unfastened her seatbelt and turned around in her seat, kneeling on the cushion, with part of her skirt clinging up to reveal a hint of her panties. "Boys! You're superheroes! Let's go fight some bad guys, huh? Would'ja do that for a lady? Huh? Would you fight for me again?"

Johann and Evan exchanged nervous glances then Evan nodded, followed by a slight nod from Johann. Karla smiled brightly then turned to Eric and nodded. All four eased out of the car then shut the doors behind themselves.

She moved around the vehicle towards Donovan's descendant and said, "I liked your answer, by the way. I'm sorry that my goofy conversating frustrated you but thanks for being respectful. Which way?"

"Conversing," said Evan quietly. "Conversating isn't a word."

Karla grinned. "Part of fitting into the modern era," she put an arm around the youthful black man, walking in step with him, "Is to use modernized lexicon wrong so you don’t make everyone around you feel stupid. Now, I'm delighted to know you're a smart boy. But I promise you… I know the right way to speak." She reached her hand down from Evan’s shoulder, groped Johann’s rear end firmly, then moved away from the two young men. "Let's find the bad guys and, what's that modern saying? Oh, yeah, fuck shit up!"

Johann Foster flinched at the sensation of something pinching him on his backside.  "Dear God," Johann murmured, looking pale and embarrassed for her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Don't… please, Karla, I'm not one of those guys that wants to bang every female he sees and it's really awkward to have someone grab my ass, okay?"

"Johann," Evan murmured.

"Sorry." He cleared his throat. “Butt.”

Karla laughed.  “It’s okay to be a virgin, but you don’t have to act like one.  Walk around like you’ve got a three foot cock, that’s colloquially known as ‘confidence,’ sweetheart.” 

A hint of a grin tugged at the corner of Eric's mouth. "Leave'em be, Karla.  They're practically kids."

"So are you," she replied. "You're in your mid-twenties. They're in their early twenties. What's the difference? They can't buy booze yet and you can. At least in this country."

"Life experiences," he replied. "I don't remember many, but what I do remember has made me a man. Now… this is the place. I barely got out of here."

Karla cracked her knuckles. "Shooting people without understanding the intent of your actions doesn't make anyone a man. But I will admit – the fact you've held yourself together emotionally… that shows testicular fortitude."

Eric smirked. "Nice figure of speech." He leaned closer to Karla and said, "Perhaps your friends should wait at the exit."

"Hey!" Evan moved up between Eric and Karla. "I've kicked these people's butts before. I did it today in fact! I can handle myself! While you were training to understand your power and unable to protect your mentor, I was saving Miss Howard's life, okay? Don't treat me like a kid in the third person especially when I'm right here, got it?"

Eric lifted his hands defensively. "Remember how I said I barely got out alive? We need someone to secure an exit route. If things get bad and we're carrying Donovan out on our shoulders, we need a strong extraction team that I can count on. On the same token, you shouldn't have to see excessive blood and guts for someone you've never met because that's not fair to you. If those guys try to flank us and they cut off our method of escape, everyone dies. So I'm suggesting to her that we put our key players near the exit so that everyone goes home."

Evan and Eric had a silent stare down. After a moment, Evan said, "Fine, I'll wait outside. I know it's because I come off as a child to you… but I'm doing it because you had a respectful and responsible reason. I appreciate your logic. But I don't want you to think I'm incapable, either. Just so we're clear on that."

"We are." Eric offered his hand and the two shook.

The group approached the warehouse. Johann and Evan moved to the entrance. Evan turned the deadbolt to glass and Johann turned the glass to sand. It fell from the door and pooled on the ground. Foster opened it and gestured for Karla and Eric to enter. "How long do you want us to wait before we should assume the worst?"

Karla smirked. "If I'm not back in twenty minutes, call the president and tell him I said his wife should really…"

"Enough, move." Loupe put his hand on her shoulder and guided her into the door. He glanced back and the two boys and added, "Thanks again, guys." He pulled the door shut behind himself.

Karla fell into step adjacent to him with a soft smile. "I liked the way you put those guys at ease. You've got a mature way of defusing things. Diplomacy aside, how do you fair with a handgun?"

"Eleven out of twelve headshots." He checked the door they came from.  It didn’t have a handle and couldn’t be opened from the inside, only from the outside going in.

Karla winced. "Okay, that was grim."

He frowned in reply. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make light of what happened. It was a bad joke. But on a serious note, it's the only time I remember shooting a gun and every shot was a fatal one. I assume I've had training in the past."

"Alright. I'll get you a gun from the first mercenary we see. Just stay away from telephones. If one rings, I'll answer – not you. Are you ready to do this? Have you learned how to do anything cool yet with your shadows?"

"Donovan said I'm a natural with creating shadow objects, but I cannot seem to grasp the concept of using them to pick things up or do all the stuff he does."

"Fine, you've got a big black baseball bat then. I'm satisfied with that. Just don't hit me."

Eric offered a hint of a grin. "He said I was really good at avoiding the mannequins we labeled as 'friendlies.' I think you'll be okay. Still, I'd rather have the gun at this point."

"Wish I brought earplugs," she murmured then cracked her knuckles.

Karla saw a door ajar and pushed it open.  She peered in and flipped on the light switch.  The room was a mess and unfinished with cracked tiles and insulation hanging from the ceiling.  “Future penthouse office, I guess.”  She quirked her brows then picked up something from the corner.

“What is it?”

“A man’s wallet.” She opened it and pulled out the license.  “Correction, a woman’s wallet.” She held the ID up to the single bulb on the ceiling. “Holy shit.”

“Pardon?”

“Topaz Parker.  This must have been where they held her.  God, and she was so close to the exit door, but they don’t open from the inside.”  She put the wallet into her handbag.  Kuda climbed up her wrist and onto her shoulder.

“Jesus, you brought your pet with you?”

“Don’t be like that.  Kuda goes everywhere with me, now.  He’s awesome.  Don’t be a hater.”

“Alright, come on.  Let’s find my Uncle.”

At the end of an empty warehouse room the two came to a freight elevator. "So what's this place look like inside?"

"It's an old night club under renovation. It's being gutted and fixed up to look like some sort of gothic themed place. Gargoyles sitting in crates and black sconces being fastened to the walls. All that crap. But the house system is set up. They were listening to music when I was dragged in here earlier. It was still playing when I escaped. Seems like everything is quiet, now, though."

"Oh I love fighting to music. We'll have to find the DJ's booth." She fixed the lay of her skirt then smiled brightly when the iron bars of the elevator eased apart. She stepped onto the lift with Eric then began stretching. The gate shut with a metallic clang. He watched her lean against the back of the elevator, stretching her legs then she pressed her arms against the bulkhead.

"I've never seen you fight before. All I know is that Donovan said you saved his life last August. So I came to find you. Are you ready for this?"

"Baby boy, I was born ready. God, I hope Krys Monroe and Aris Falcon are here." The elevator descended into the shaft slowly. "Isn't this place built into the side of a hill? So technically, we're on the top floor right now, right?"

"I think so. They're rebuilding the other side of the building, that's what all the scaffolding was for." Eric folded his arms. "I'm really not looking forward to nearly dying again. Damn this elevator is slow."

She leaned against the left side next to the button panel. “I’m sorry you’ve gone through all this mess.  You’re a good guy, Eric.  Donovan was a good guy, too.  I hope nothing happened to him.” The small ferret-sized fox perked up on her shoulder, sitting up tall.  It carefully crawled beneath her chin to her other shoulder then settled down.

The elevator doors grunted open.  Eric frowned.  “I don’t know.  I saw them inject him with something. They put him into a stasis pod and he looked unconscious.  But then I thought I saw him help me escape the mercenaries.  We’re almost there.” 

"I don't even know what to say.  I hope he’s okay." Karla frowned. They walked down a silent, empty hallway together.

“Did you two ever have something together?”

“Oh, not really.  I fed on him, but we didn’t have sex.  He didn’t let me touch him again after that, heh.”

“I see.” Eric looked around, glancing into an intersecting hallway before proceeding forward.  “It’s damn quiet, now.”

"And you came this way earlier?"

"It was full of guys with guns," he explained. "I lost control. I created one of those shadow waves and knocked down everyone. I got up and ran and made it up to the roof. We were all at a showdown with guns pointed at me. I looked back over the edge at the alley pavement. I remember something throwing me off the side but I landed in the recycled paper dumpster. No one else I know would use shadows to get me out of that situation."

"But you said you saw them inject him and he went down for the count."

"I know what I saw but... shadows. It... Karla, it had to come from Donovan. Unless I somehow did it subconsciously but... it sure didn't come from me, it came towards me. Anyway, I climbed out of the dumpster and came to find you as fast as I could. I want to find my uncle then torch this dump."

"Easier said than done," replied Karla. "He's got to be here, I'm just sure of it."

"I sure hope so. He's all I got left. I've even lost my faith. I'm just flailing right now."

Karla frowned. "I’m told I’m a mythological demon," said Karla in a firm, serious tone. "I’ve not seen a lot of proof in God, though. I can’t buy stock in some make-believe guy in the sky who can create the universe out of nothing yet he needs a rib to create a woman.”

“Maybe gods of yore were just supernaturals?”

“It’s possible.” Karla reached a finger up and rubbed her nail beneath Kuda’s muzzle. “But one thing is for sure:  I’m pretty sure Jesus isn’t some galactic Savior, Alpha and Omega of the universe or some such.”

Eric eyed her for a moment then stopped at the next intersection and peered around the corner. "The staging area is up ahead. We're backstage. And that depends on your definition of savior. His teachings influenced two billion people who needed direction in their lives. So, to billions of people, it makes Him their Savior."

"Touché," she said with a slight grin. "But that makes Muhammad a savior, too.  And Buddha.  And me, now that there’s no longer an Esoteric Council to stop me from using my powers in public.”  She offered a lame grin. “We can debate about this later. You smell that?"

Eric stepped up onto the stage then glanced around. He took a deep breath then frowned and stomped his foot on the stage. "Hmm, hollow.  There's a floor beneath this one. We have to find our way down to it. What's that smell?"

"Hydraulics," she said. "When you've lived through the industrial age, you start to learn a few chemical smells. I know it anywhere. How many hydraulic machines can you think of in a night club?"

"An elevator?"

"Mm-hmm.  Perhaps a recently serviced one." She moved further back behind the staging area then grinned over her shoulder at Eric. "Boy that was easier than I thought. There's a heavy duty maintenance elevator behind the equipment loading area. It's enormous."

Eric came alongside of her and examined the elevator panel then looked back at the stage. "The whole stage is sitting on the elevator. What the hell?"

Karla clapped her hands together. “Genius!” She toyed with the controls briefly.  “I imagine you can switch the stage with a section that has more tables or an extension of a dance floor. That would mean that this club can accommodate rock shows, dance parties and restaurant duties… fancy, I bet this place is going to become a big deal. …Unless I burn it down, of course." The stage began to lower, all at once, into the ground. "Wow. Big lift. You must have found the stairs when you were getting out of here earlier. Get ready for anything."

They turned about and stood at the center of the stage as it sank beneath the main level of the venue. The sublevel floor was an enormous room filled with plain-clothes men with weapon props. Some groups were paired off in hand-to-hand combat training exercises. Some groups were performing physical training. Karla folded her arms. "I'm counting over a hundred, easily. This place is bigger than a parking garage and… now we have their attention."

Eric swallowed and took a calm breath. "Seems none of them have any live weapons."

A wan smile found the corner of her lips. "Wouldn't matter if they did. This is going to be an exhausting day. You ready?" She moved to the DJ booth and ran her fingertips over a touchscreen interface. "God, there's a lot of selection here."

"Are you seriously playing around up there when we now have all those people glaring at us with their training props?"

“Oh just hush.  Let me work my magic, babe.”

X

X

Meanwhile,
November 21^st, (13 hours ahead)
Tokyo, Japan…

         Jules Lenis Guillot stopped on the sidewalk and turned to gaze down between two buildings.  He recognized a white uniform on a woman who appeared to be in a fistfight with someone else.  He glanced at his watch.  Three in the morning.  He headed down the alley. 

         The woman in the white uniform drew her foot back and buried it into the gut of a man who fell over onto his side.  She picked up her dress shoes and said, “I don’t know how to tell you off in Japanese but mugging a United States Naval Officer was a dumb goddamn idea, pal.”

         Jules cleared his throat and said, “Good mornin’, Lieutenant.  You a’ite?”

         “Just annoyed, I’ll have to file an incident report for the fight, another IR for the tear he put in my sleeve, order another…” She took a deep breath and turned away from the man.  She dropped her shoes on the alley and pushed her feet into them.  “And then he tried to steal one of my shoes while he was on the ground.  Drunk as hell.  Stupid little slant-”

         “Lieutenant,” Jules announced in a sharp tone.  “No need for racism.  Japan didn’t try to mug you.  Some drunk idiot doesn’t represent Japan.”

         “Y…You’re right.  Sorry.  Wait, who are you?”

         “Retired.” Jules grinned. “I flew off the Ford for a while, then I was stationed in Yokosuka for a while.” He withdrew his wallet and showed her his old ID.  “See?”

         “Commander Guill…wah?”

         “Gee-loh,” he said with a grin.  “Depends on dialect.  I’m Cajun through’n’through.  Are y’ injured, Lieutenant?”

         “No, sir, just annoyed.”

         “You done wrecked his night, and… I’m retired.  You’re Lieutenant, cause ya worked hard fer tha’.  I’m just Jules Guillot.”

         “You a flyboy huh?  What was your handle, sir?  …Jules?”

         “Early on it was Lightning Lenis,” he said, pronouncing his middle name like, ‘Lah-nay,’ with a charismatic smile. “But people started saying I talk like tha’ dude from the X-men.  So when I changed ships, everyone started calling me ‘Gambit.’  You need to use my phone to call the ship?”

         “Oh, no.  I’ve already made my call fifteen minutes ago.  They’re on their way.  I’m waiting here with this guy.  He tried to start drama again with me a few minutes ago, right before you walked by.” 

         “A’ite.” He paused then tilted his head.  “Hey, you hear tha’?”

         “No, sir… Just the wind in the alley.”

         “You stay safe.  I thought I heard a gunshot and a shout.  You stay here with bozo until the authorities arrive.  Do everything by the book, tha’s how I made O-5 in eight years.  You want your scrambled eggs, you’ll get’em.”

         “Yeah, I’d love to have a gold oak-leaf before the end of the year.  I’ll stay here.  Thanks for stopping by, I appreciate it.”

         “Reckon it’s no problem.” Jules headed off down the alley.  There was a path to the left and he followed it towards a parking garage.  Lying in the corner, slumped over, a man with gang tattoos lay bleeding.  Jules frowned. “Shit.  Don’t need to get involved in no damn gang…” He was interrupted by the high pitched crack of a gunshot, followed by two more, trailing off into a distant woman’s voice. 

         Jules began moving in the direction of the gunshots with a sigh.  “You dumb hick-ass sumbitch.  You don’t need to get involved in this crap.” 

         He heard a female voice speaking clearly in Japanese from within the parking garage up ahead.  In elegant, clearly enunciated east capital dialect, she announced, “Your kind will learn their lesson and place!”

         Jules thought about some of the words and the conjugation as he stepped into the parking garage, figuring out what was said.  By the time he got to the end of the first floor of the parking deck, he figured out the entire statement.  Up ahead, more men in tattoos were strewn about the garage.  Same gang as the man in the back alley. 

         The retired aviator leaned over one of the bodies, noting the affiliation tattoos.  “Aw hell, is that the Diamon of the Yamaguchi-gumi?  What’m I getting myself into?”  Some of the men were dressed in business casual clothing.  One of them held a gun, snagged on his trigger finger.

         He took the handgun, checked the magazine and chamber then continued forward.  “Okay, just a peek.  Gotta make sure the lady’s safe, right?” he murmured under his breath.

         Jules made his way beyond the path of bodies and rounded the corner to the ramp leading up to the next section.  There was a woman in a hand-painted silk kimono with a group of men surrounded her.  However, the men wore black paramilitary gear, very different from the gang members on the ground.

         “Another one,” said one of the men in black gear, spoken in plain English.  “Wait, he doesn’t have any markings.”  The soldier backed away from his group and addressed Jules, “Turn around and leave, now.” He repeated himself in Japanese. 

         “You boys’re pointing weapons at a woman,” Jules replied back, brows furrowed.  “Y’know, the cops are already on their way.  Because of a drunk fight around the corner.”

         “Put the goddamn gun down!” said the soldier. 

         The other ones began advancing on the woman in the kimono again.  She had red hair and didn’t appear afraid.  One of the men in black clothing was face down at her feet. 

         Jules spoke slow, carefully worded Japanese, asking her, “Miss, are you injured?  Do you need assistance?”

         She appeared Irish but replied in English with a Japanese dialect.  “You are not safe, sir.  These men murdered several other men who were only trying to protect me from their attack.” 

         Jules kept his gun pointed forward.  “Those other men were Yakuza.  That wasn’t very smart, guys.”  He cut his eyes up to the woman.  “Why were they protecting you?”

         “Because I am kitsune,” she said, pronouncing the word, ‘kit-sue-neh.’ She shifted her eyes from left to right, panning her gaze across the men surrounding her.  “They saw these men attack me in their territory and rushed to my aid.  These attackers appear to be very skilled combatants.” 

         “Let me be more clear,” Jules announced loud and clear, “The woman who was attacked around the corner was United States Navy.  The military are coming.  Not just the police.  This caught my attention, you’re going to catch the eye of trained military by shooting your guns back here.  Not to mention you killed people that are part of the Yamaguchi-gumi.  You boys just started a war over attacking a ginger inna’ back alley.  Was it worth it?”

         One of the soldiers said to another, “Shut him the fuck up and let’s get her head off her body, so we can call it a night.” 

         Two soldiers opened fire on Jules without another word.  Jules dove back around the corner leading up the ramp to the second level of the parking deck.  Bullets struck the concrete, causing pieces to chip off and fly about. 

         “Enough!” shouted the woman. 

         From where Jules pressed up against the corner wall, he felt an immense heat that caused him to roll away. 

X

X

Meanwhile,
San Francisco, California…

         Music came over the speakers. “Ever heard this song?  It was big a few years ago, remember?”

Eric threw his hands up in the air. “Are you serious? What do I care about a goddamn song? I don’t even give a damn about who-the-hell-ever this is; I have no memories of music I liked or videos I’ve seen and I really don’t want to be bludgeoned to death by a hundred trainees!”

“Oh shut up, quit your belly-aching and watch this.” She cracked her knuckles then touched the screen again. Karla disappeared then reappeared adjacent to him. “By the way, ‘whomever.’ If Evan heard you follow a preposition with ‘who’, he’d have corrected you.” A rhythmic sort of cadence began to play through the subs. Karla sauntered to the end of the stage. Karla stepped over the monitors and the beat dropped out at the end of the intro.

She stopped at the edge of the stage, having memorized the exact structure of the song. Eric flinched at the shrill and sudden kick into the meat of the song.

The music took on a demonic sound at an oddly syncopated rhythm. Karla lifted her hands; they glowed a brilliant pink, brighter than a cellphone screen. She thrust her palms outwards and the nearest circle of trainees flew backwards. Karla curled her fingertips, shaking and waving several of the men in unison to the stuttering syncopation of the music.

The demoness waved her left hand, throwing a large group of people away from her then closed her right fist, causing their upward ascension to become exaggerated, as if in slow motion. Then she clenched both fists and thrust her hands down, sending them into the concrete floor in unison to the beat of the music.

All at once, the drum track stopped and the music changed to a soft piano part – a bridge – that acted like an interlude from the dark feel of the tune, which had no normal semblance of verse or chorus.

She began sauntering forward again.  The group of rookie mercenaries closest to her began to back away, condensing the crowd of soldiers.  They appeared nervous and afraid with their trainers strewn out on the floor.

The song kicked back in at full intensity. The demonic sounding section returned full force, blasting from the subs and PA, but with the drum track at a double time pace. Karla waved her arms like a conductor orchestrating chaos.

Entire groups of trainees flew into the air, screaming in fear. They blasted back through the others, bowling over everyone in sight. The drums returned to the half-time feel. She walked at a leisurely pace through the room in time to the music but continued to wave her arms offensively, as if she were a witch casting powerful spells.

The telekinetic waves threw men by the dozens and she selected airborne people at random and used them as melee weapon puppets to strike others. The music tapered off into the eerie sing-song track with symphonic ambiance behind the leisurely gait of the drum beat. For such a dark track, it ended the way it began… with a subtle sounding major progression.

The bodies, strewn about on the floor, lay motionless at her feet. The drums syncopated one last time, leaving only the fading sound of an angelic synth cord. She twirled around, facing the stage. Her skirt floated about her waist and the track concluded with Karla as victor at the center of the room.

She reached for the hem of her skirt, her knees bent and she curtsied with a pleasant smile. “I felt like I connected with the girl in the video and fell in love with this song.  Been listening to it ever since.  Actually, music is the best part of the modern era.”

Soft off-rhythm clapping came from the far left of the stage. Both Eric and Karla turned to face Johann and Evan as they came from a stairwell set into the wall on the side of the large room. Evan approached her. “That was sick. I’ve never really cared for music that mixes industrial dubstep with metal… but… that was sick. I wish I taped it on my cellphone.”

Karla furrowed her brows. “I wouldn’t want it winding up on the internet,” she murmured.  She cleared her throat and added, “I thought you guys are supposed to be keeping watch so we have an escape plan?”

Johann swallowed then cleared his throat and chimed in. “It’s been twenty minutes.  I called the President like you said and he told me to give you backup. Blame the President, that’s all I can say.”

She rolled her eyes. “Good grief. Why did you boys leave the front?”

“Because HE is here and we had to tell you,” Johann replied sternly. “But he doesn’t know we’re here. He seems preoccupied on his phone, shouting at someone for screwing with his plans. We need to either figure out a plan to take him down or we need to get out of here before we all die.”

Eric stepped off the stage. “We’re here for Donovan. I don’t care if you guys leave. I’m finding my Uncle. There’s something I didn’t mention, Karla – I didn’t think about it before… but… and this is weird, but… I’m only remembering it now.”

“What?” She folded her arms and approached the front of the stage, closing the gap between herself and Loupe.

“I seem to remember there was another guy with Falcon. He told me to forget things I saw. Maybe from all the mind conditioning, I was susceptible to what he told me to do but… Falcon called him, ‘Sire.’ The thing is, Donovan and I couldn’t question what he said. He told me to forget I saw his face and suggested that I leave of my own will and that should Donovan stay of his own will… but I think he was the reason…”

Johann’s eyes widened. “Sire?! He’s here and he’s working with Falcon? Are you serious? His ability is to crush your will so that you feel compelled to follow his so-called suggestions. You can’t strike him because you can’t attack someone who takes away your willpower.”

“He told me to forget everything I saw; I just now remembered him saying it.  Why didn’t I remember it sooner?”

“Mister Loupe, his orders become permanent when spoken to the weak-minded.” Johann frowned and shook his head.  “He must have assumed that because you were programmed by a Government body, you must have a weak will and a weak mind. He must have presumed you would forget forever when told to do so. The fact you’ve remembered after such a short time is, well, extraordinary.  It’s disconcerting to hear that he’s helping Aris Falcon.”

Eric glanced at Karla. “How’s the kid know so much about this guy, Sire?”

The succubus cut her eyes over at Johann. “Well, hon, Johann Foster worked for the Justicar… that guy had a similar ability so he knows how it works.”

Johann glanced back at the sex demon. “Sire was related to my previous employer. Their abilities were similar but Sire didn’t have any other abilities. His mental manipulation was much stronger than Justicar Reinhardt.  To the point of mastery. And I was told that Sire was angry that the Justicar was killed. Why is he working with Falcon?  I thought Falcon was behind the inquisition against supernaturals?  It doesn’t make sense.”

Karla rubbed her chin with a frown. “Yeah, you’re right. Steven and Lance are going to be very interested to find out about this …if I decide I trust them enough to tell them. Too many signs point to this situation being a bigger conspiracy than I initially cared to admit.  If Steven and Lance turn out to be in on this whole thing, I’m going to be upset but at this point, nothing would truly surprise me.”

Eric nodded.  “From this point on, we should keep everything between the four of us until we can determine who we can trust.  People should be vetted before we let them into our circle of trust.”

The succubus nodded in agreement. “My circle of trust never has been very big to begin with and Donovan is in that circle. We have to get him back.”

Evan stepped forward and asked, “What if this guy, Sire, is like a double agent? If he’s close to Falcon but isn’t trying to…”

“No way,” said Johann. “That guy’s ability is to get what he wants whenever he wants it simply by demanding it. He wouldn’t schmooze with Aris Falcon unless he wants something out of this nonsense… something Falcon can’t deliver up front.”

“Like those artifacts,” Karla mused softly, tapping a manicured nail against her lower lip. She looked over at Eric. “What if Sire was working with… or possibly even for Donovan’s grandfather?”

“Why would you say that about my great-grandfather, Karla?” Eric asked in a soft tone.

“Because of the score,” she explained with a firm nod, as if adding finality to her conclusion. “Steven is alive and he’s immortal – he used to go by Isaac years ago. And then there’s the guy I’ve been working with, who used to go by the name ‘Methos.’ He’s the oldest person I’ve ever met. You told me about your meeting with Falcon, earlier.  And in your anecdote, you said Donovan’s grandfather has some sort of tie to ancient technology because he’s apparently older than dirt, right?  Old-school immortals stick together because they’re rare.  And, years ago, Sire was working with Methos and Isaac. I’ve heard of the guy but I don’t think I ever really met’em. Something is going on here and we don’t know what it is, but these guys are, like…”

“…Like what, Karla Howard?” The voice belonged to a man with tousled auburn hair and fancy clothing. He wore a dress jacket, cummerbund and matching bowtie and offered a brilliant, dazzling smile.

“Oo, he’s gorgeous,” she murmured. Karla turned away from Eric and faced the man across the room full of fallen soldiers. “I didn’t realize you’d be so effeminate looking. My goodness. And dressed to the nines… you must be Sire.” She winced and brought her left hand to her head, rubbing her fingers against her temple.

“I am indeed. Finish your sentence, please, I’m quite curious to hear what you think you know about us.”

She hooked her right thumb at Johann and Evan. “They get to leave without being attacked. I’ll be their escort. Then we’ll talk. I know I can’t attack you but that doesn’t mean I can’t teleport out of your line of sight then level this place by collapsing every pillar in this structure.”

Sire folded his hands behind his back, with his toothy smile as rich and vibrant as freshly fallen snow. “Oh, like Sampson? Fine. I’ll give you ten seconds.”

Karla disappeared. Evan and Johann disappeared. The trio appeared out in the back lot. She handed them the car keys and said, “Go quickly. Don’t look back. Train hard, find people like yourselves, do a lot of research and find a way to shield yourselves from people like Sire. He’s bad news. Don’t attack until you’re ready to win, now run.” She disappeared again.

She appeared back in the sublevel arena just as Sire announced, “…Ten! Ah! You’ve returned! Well done. Finish your sentence. These guys are, like, …What?”

Karla clenched her hands into fists. “Antediluvians. You guys were around before the Great Flood, right?”

“Indeed, girl. Methos was. Steven was.  Consider the mathematical probity of more than two people in the whole world that could survive that long.  Doesn’t seem mathematically possible, does it?  You should consider the likelihood that Justus and I are not quite that old. You’ve done your homework, though. Steven and Methos knew Enoch, the son of Cain, and lived in his city as council members. You cannot fathom what they’ve seen or what they know. The human DNA strand was… is designed to degrade after a mere two hundred years. Anyone who can live beyond that has genetics not of the Homo sapiens’ line. Close but not exact. That is why the mind of a true immortal doesn’t crumble and cave after so many years alive as one might assume when attempting to conceive what advanced age would be like. Justus and I have worked with Steven and Methos for ages, despite falling out of touch with them in recent years.”

“You really like to hear yourself talk.” Eric Loupe took a deep breath to keep his temper in check. “If Falcon killed your brother, why are you working with him?”

Sire tilted his head then wantonly twisted a ring on his finger.  He appeared to consider the question briefly then offered a shrug. “Falcon is a means to an end as you presumed but he’s still useful.”

“God you’re familiar,” Karla said.

“Mm, many know my face in the esoteric community. My brother was the Grand Justicar of the Americas. As you know, there are only five Grand Justicars in the world. From what I understand, all of them are now dead. And now we have chaos.”

Karla rubbed at her temple again. “Goddamn. I usually wake up with these headaches. I never get’em in the middle of the day like this. Must be you, pal.” She squinted at the man for a moment then rubbed her face. “No. I don’t know you as Reinhardt’s brother. I recognize you from somewhere else, I just can’t place it.”

Eric cleared his throat. “I’ve got some questions for you, pal.  Why are you helping Falcon kill everyone?  What happened to my great-grandfather,” Loupe demanded. “And where is Donovan?”

Sire St. Leonard balked at the accusation. “You think Falcon is capable of killing off the entire Esoteric Community by himself?  Certainly not.  I’m still investigating what I can learn about whoever is behind Falcon’s actions, plans, and financial backing.  And as for your other questions… Justus left the group when he had a change of heart.  He was killed with a prototype weapon.”

Sire approached Karla. She backed away until she stood adjacent to Eric Loupe. Sire stopped several feet from the couple and smiled again. “The world has ended before. It has restarted before. The tale of the Garden of Eden is the beginning of recorded history for the Second Age. The Book of Revelations, like other stories of Armageddon and the Apocalypse, tells of the end of the Second Age and promises the reader a Third Age. But that age only promises peace for a mere thousand years. Not that long, really. But that is to be the age of true enlightenment. Some of us wish to see it happen sooner rather than later. And we’d rather get there on our own terms: No locusts, no boiling seas of blood, and no famines.”

Karla tightened her jaw and narrowed her soft, sea-green gaze. “Yeah? And how does it end for the current occupants of this planet? You ever think about that? There are officially eight billion people and many of them will die.”

“Yes. And you’re probably one of them, dear. Unfortunately for you, The Book of Revelations says the Great Whore of Babylon dies. Sorry, Karla. You don’t get to live happily ever after in the end.”

Eric sneered, struggling to keep his temper under control. “Why are you helping Falcon to bring in the apocalypse?  What kind of endgame goal is that?  It’s bullshit.”

“Bullshit?  My, don’t you sound like Nathanial Carrington.  You know, we’d have successfully implemented our agenda ages ago if it wasn’t for that man.  The fact he’s finally dead is the reason this will succeed.  And to answer your question… The end is going to happen no matter what.  The end of the world for humanity is an eventuality.  You need to see the bigger picture:  If we do things my way, the death toll will be far lower.  We can’t stop it, but we can control it, and we can keep the amount of damage under control.”

Karla rubbed her chin, eyeing the man.  “Yeah? But the Whore of Babylon comes into play around the climax of the story. So that means you’re not going to kill me today because we haven’t even had all the other parts that come first. And Revelations also claims she’ll be clad in purple and scarlet, so maybe that means the world is going to be at the mercy of a Red Hatters Society member.  You should really learn to open your mind to different interpretations.  Now where the hell is Donovan?”

Sire casually toyed with the ring on his finger. “Oh don’t be such a stickler for details, dear.” He cut his gaze to Eric and added, “And you think I like to talk.” He dropped his hands to his sides and panned his eyes back to Karla.  “If you’re as open-minded as you claim, then you should be more open to consider my interpretation, as well.  I’m sure my little circle of friends and allies would be delighted to rush right to the end of the tale. You can die today and hurry things along if you like.  Then we’ll all know for sure if you really are The Great Whore, Karla.”

“He’s right about that,” said another voice. Aris Falcon stepped into the room, moving alongside of Sire, facing Karla and Eric. “We’ve kept a careful count of signs, Karla.  The total Lunar Eclipse on April 15^th of 2014 was when Sinopa Crevan was drawn back to the Celestial Realm.  When she returned on August 21^st of 2017 in Montana, she was hailed by a clan of the BlackFoot as a star from the sky.  She went to Japan and met a man in the United States Navy.” 

“Who?” Karla blinked.  She mouthed the word, ‘Sinopa,’ then frowned. “That name sounds familiar.”

“As it should,” Aris said with a smirk.  “You’ll remember again soon enough.  We believe she was the falling star of the fifth trumpet’s first woe.  She unlocked the bottomless pit, which caused a solar eclipse and darkened the sky.  But without her return, Satan cannot be cast into the pit.  So we let her return because without that first woe of the fifth trumpet, we cannot get to the end of the story.  And Karla, you are ‘Babylon the Great, Mother of Prostitutes and Abominations of the Earth.’  You simply haven’t come to terms with it.  And when you finally do, that is when you will take your role in the story as intended, in the seventeenth chapter.” Aris cut his gaze to Eric and said, “Mister Loupe, I told you to leave.”

“Yeah?” Eric sneered in disgust. “Then you attacked me. My uncle would have been pissed that you broke the agreement.”

An eerie smile found its way to Falcon’s lips. “I’d have lied to him and said you broke the deal, turned about and attacked us after having a change of heart, and that you died by ‘police suicide,’ in a manner of speaking.”

“Maybe he’ll already have figured out the truth when he wakes up. Maybe he’s already seen your playbook and has been helping me from inside your little tube,” said Eric, remembering the shadow arm that saved him from being shot on the rooftop, earlier.

Falcon shook his head. “Mister Loupe… you have quite an active imagination.”

Karla, looking to buy the boys time to escape the area, continued the conversation. “So. Aris. What kind of name is that, anyhow? Sounds girly. Moving on! I’ve only met you twice.  Once working with JC Parker years ago, and the other time… well, you probably didn’t see me but I saw you.  I rescued the telepathic boy from right under your nose back in 1999.”

         Karla readjusted the lay of her skirt then she glanced down at her sparkling carnation nails, examining them. “I thought the city of Jerusalem later becomes The Great Whore?  Anyway, if you really believe in this crap, then you two douchebags can’t kill me because you don’t have seven heads and ten horns. Besides, Babylon is still mostly in ruins. And anyone who reads that derp-ass New Test crap knows you can’t have the end of the world without Babylon coming back first, morons.”

“Donovan is in cryogenic stasis for the time being,” said Falcon. “He’s not helping anyone due to nearly nonexistent brain activity. Sire, here, will ensure that neither of you can attack us. And yes, Babylon was under reconstruction after we put the idea into Saddam Hussein’s head that it should be rebuilt. We convinced him he was the second coming of Nebuchadnezzar. Some of the esoteric community caught wind of this. They conspired with the American government and military and used this country’s armed forces as pawns to attack Iraq during the rebuilding. Base Camp Alpha created considerable damage to Babylon, setting back the reconstruction effort by a great deal.”

Karla blinked and cut her eyes to Eric.  They both shrugged then looked back at Falcon. “Are you shitting me?”

Falcon appeared bored as he spoke. “Now you see why they all-but-ignored their hunt for the very man who attacked the United States, back in 2001, in order to kill Hussein so they could stop his plans for Babylon. It was that important. But Babylon’s reconstruction will be finished eventually, Karla.  Then you can die with your harp if that’s how you wish to go. The ‘Weapons of Mass Destruction’ was nothing more than a metaphor for the supernatural people involved in the return of Babylon.  Very few people were privileged to that information, so consider yourself properly briefed, two decades later.  And now you know.”

Karla glanced back at Eric again then quirked her brows. He furrowed his own in reply. She turned back to Sire and Falcon. “Say what? All of this nonsense is about Babylon?”

“No,” said Falcon. Sire chuckled with a shake of his head. Doctor Falcon eased his hands into his lab coat. “Far from it. But Babylon is the site where we found something far, far more technologically advanced than, say, a Baghdad Battery. Something that was smuggled out of The First Age and used to great effect. But you wouldn’t understand it.”

“Try me.”

“No need to tell her anything else,” said Sire. He glanced at his wristwatch then shrugged. “Do as you please, Aris. I have a flight to catch. I’ll call you from the Port of Miami – do try to stay alive? We’re nearly ready and I’m sure you’d hate to miss the big finale.” He turned about and left the room.

“You’re feeling talkative today. Your personal armor just left,” said Karla, “Tell me what’s going on and I might spare you. So what did you find in Iraq?”

“Technology from The First Age of people, who existed before Genesis.  They helped settle the Cradle of Civilization, which is where Genesis begins.  They terraformed the area in six days, rested on the seventh, and moved in afterwards.  They are the ones who had the technology to bring in the Third Age mentioned at the end of the Book of Revelations, but in the right hands, we can lessen the overall collateral damage.  Now you see I’m not the ‘bad guy’ here.  I’ve let you live, Karla, because you have a place in all of this.”

“I lived because I showed up late to one of your inquisition meetings last August.” She sneered in disgust. “And it’s about time you pay for that attack.  Keep talking, and I’ll keep listening but you’re not leaving this room alive.”  

Eric narrowed his eyes and said, “You really expect us to believe this stuff, Falcon? First Age people? Second Age and all that nonsense? How long was The First Age around? Because Homo erectus was hundreds of thousands of years ago and what number age did they live in, huh?”

“Don’t be daft, boy,” said Aris with a wan sigh. “The people that eventually evolved into those of The First Age aren’t even Homo sapiens. The people that lived during The First Age were mostly Homo sapiens but those I refer to were superior to such. They were the earthborn gods of the day. And you, Karla, are also superior but your genetics have been diluted with Homo sapiens backwash.”

“I’m a demon you nitwit. Our kind has been stalking the Earth since God was a boy and dirt was new. The ‘backwash’ gave me my concept of humanity, which is why you’re not dead just yet. So don’t mock my genes, douchebag. Where is Donovan?”

“He’s not here.”

“Liar!” Karla snapped. “Eric saw you put him into a tube!  You can’t move a cryogenic stasis chamber because you can’t operate that kind of machinery in transport.”

“You’re right,” said Falcon with a chuckle. “When word came down that Eric escaped, I changed my plans.  You see, Donovan is sedated heavily.  My people moved him while I kept the two of you here, talking to me.  It’s over, now.  You’ve lost

“Where is he?” shouted Eric.

“He’s gone, boy.  Sire has him, and will put him into an active stasis chamber upon arrival to his next destination. Not that it truly matters, as I don’t need Donovan to be alive; I just need his genetic coding and to make it compatible with myself.”

Karla cracked her knuckles and approached Falcon, slowly.  “Anything else you wanna tell us before I rip into you, pal?”

Aris smirked. “I want you to consider this: The Second Age was a rebirth for Homo sapiens. No technology, no life in the stars… some knowledge was passed down and that is why Babylon was mathematically superior. Even ancient Egypt enjoyed knowledge passed down that helped them to use the logic necessary to build what modern scientists still cannot fathom. Knowledge of the stars was also passed down and who made use of it? Ah, the Mayans.”

“Oh here we go,” Eric said with a groan. “Karla, he’s about to tell us about UFOs and aliens.  Go ahead and kill him, so we don’t have to hear this nonsense.”

“No, you moron,” Aris replied. “Knowledge from the Enlightened First Age was utilized because immortal beings that lived during that age managed to survive and wanted to make their lives easier. Some of them wanted to return to the ways of Enlightenment. But human beings built all those wonders without extraterrestrial help.  The Industrial Age, and The Information Age, and now The Media Consumption Age all happened in recent times. These leaps happened because the oldest among us have grown tired of ignorance and disease and longed to return to life as they remembered it from long ago. But now The Second Age is nearly over and they want to survive the fallout.  The only way to do that is to orchestrate how the ending takes place to reduce the catastrophic consequences.  Yes, that means we are rushing the apocalypse, so we can achieve the Age of Enlightenment and Peace, but you need to see the larger picture:  our way will guarantee the survival of millions of people compared to, say, tens of thousands.  It’s the lesser of two evils and, thus, a necessary evil.”

Karla closed her left hand into a fist.  “It still means that billions die.  With that many casualties, the survivors won’t be able to tell the difference in how many live – they’ll only know that billions died.  You should be looking for a way to derail the train, not hurry it along the track.  You don’t give a damn about saving a few more people.  You just want to take control of this so that you can be among those that survive.  That’s what this is – you care more about your own life than seven and-a-half billion others.  And that… that makes you the bad guy, asshole.”

“Karla… it’s too late.  Derailing this so-called train would still kill all the passengers.  I’m in control, now.  Sit back, enjoy the ride, and shut your mouth, Whore.”

Karla stared at him for a moment then put her hands on her hips. “I would call you a ‘cunt’, but you have neither the depth nor the warmth. So what’s going to stop me from killing you right now, taking all your artifacts, and hiding them where you’ll never find’em, huh?”

“My dear girl, you’re cute but you’re not the savior of The Second Age. In order for us to transition smoothly, a large part of the population must step aside… which side are you on?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said. Karla turned her hands over, palms up, and all the training weapon props lifted from the floor. They moved to surround Falcon. “I’ll impale you with these blunt poles until you resemble a scrambled egg. Why do you keep dodging every question I ask?”

“Because the questions you’re asking don’t matter,” he returned, adding, “You can’t hurt me because I’m not really here. Perhaps you’ve heard of Astral Projection. I’ll leave you to wonder if I’ve stolen it, and if so, who I took it from.  Shame, though, we’re nearly out of range. Don’t worry, though, dear, I’ll be back in town eventually. You see, I’ve just slain three men in Golden Gate Park because they had what I needed: Information. I’m now following up on a lead, so I’ve left town. My collection of necessary artifacts is nearly complete. And because I moved them somewhere you’ll never find them… I don’t worry about thieves or whores stealing them. Good bye.”

“NO!” Karla waved her hand and caused half of the weapon props to appear inside of Falcon’s body. He seemed unaffected, yawned melodramatically and disappeared. The training props remained, phased together, on the floor. She approached the fused lump of matter then kicked it over. “Fuck!”

Eric sighed and approached her. He ran his hands back over his head in frustration then reached for her. He took her in his hands and pulled her close. Karla buried her face against his chest and sighed in defeat. He gently smoothed her hair with his left hand and said, “I know, I know… I have nothing except the man who rescued me from that dark basement. And now that man is gone, probably dead because he was tricked by Sire’s ability. Then I was tricked into accepting it and leaving. Then, just when we thought we had cornered that man for answers, both of us were tricked into staying here while they got away. It isn’t fair but it also isn’t over, okay?”

Karla remained silent; shaking with pent up rage and frustration, nearly to the point of trembling. Eric rested his chin atop of her head. “Look, Falcon made it sound like he didn’t have all these artifacts amassed yet. Okay, so he’s hiding his collection where we can’t reach’em. Maybe he’s got them on the frickin’ moon – who knows? But the fact remains he needs them all.  We know there are artifacts out there, still waiting to be found, because he hasn’t reached his endgame yet.  I’d rather gamble that he’s wrong about the end of the world being an eventuality.  We know his way will kill billions for sure.  The alternative may not be a secondary end-of-the-world scenario.” 

“You think so?  You think it’s possible that everything will be fine if we can stop them?” she asked.  “What do we do next?”

Eric kissed her forehead, it calmed her further, to the point where her body began to relax.  He smiled inwardly and readjusted his arms around her. “Karla… Maybe, together, we can find whatever artifacts are left.  We can still stop this nonsense.”

She jerked her head back and looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with wonder. “You’re…” Her lips eased into a devious smile. “Oh you’re good. You know that? You’re good, Eric. Damn good.”

“Am I? What’s on your mind?”

“You’ve got great logic – he doesn’t have’em all yet.  All we have to do is find them. All we need is a little help from people we know have nothing to do with immortals or Falcon’s friends.  Let’s go and find the Parker twins. Then we’ll find the remaining artifacts and keep them away from Falcon.”

“What about Lance… Methos, whatever he’s called, now.  Do you think he’s involved, or do you think we can trust him?”

“We need to watch them and determine what their true role is in all of this. If they’re behind this mess, I’ll manipulate them as necessary because they think I work for them.  Truth is, I work for me.”

“Do you really think they could be involved?”

“I don’t know. After all, Steven helped Donovan to find you, Eric. And Lance has helped me stop some of Falcon’s other plans.  He seemed genuinely concerned about stopping Falcon.  It’s hard to tell at this point.”

“Then we should keep them at arm’s length, just incase.  That way we can keep an eye on them.  Lance and Steven, I mean.”

She replied with a firm nod. “Agreed. Let’s move. I want to find the twins. C’mon.” Karla put her fingers against her temples again then sighed. “God, this headache is making me feel woozy.”

“When did it start?” asked Eric.

“Well… actually, it started when we were talking to Sire…”

“Maybe from a dream?  Or maybe you’ve passed by him in the past.”

Karla shook her head with a sigh. “I… I don’t know. Maybe.” 

“Anyways, how long have you been having these headaches?”

She frowned thoughtfully then wiggled away from Eric’s embrace.  She started walking back towards the exit, stepping over one of the mercenaries.  “I usually only get these headaches when I wake up after a dream regarding an airplane crash.  It happens every now and then. Nevermind. I’m probably crazy. C’mon, let’s get going.”

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