Jak Koke - Stranger souls

In the dim pre-dawn light, Burnout stood on the roof of the Howard Johnson's across the street from the Watergate Hotel listening intently to the sound coming from the laser microphone. The roof guard lay dead a short distance away, a trickle of blood leaking from the side of his open mouth. Burnout had shot him from the Aztechnology diplomatic rotorcraft as it descended to land on the helipad. The night flight from Lake Louise had brought them here, and now a reward was soon to come. Burnout could smell it.

Slaver sat next to him, cross-legged in his idea of street clothes-loose-fitting Guatemalan pants, brightly striped in purples and yellows. His shirt matched, very reflective and simple to spot even at night. An easy target in combat. Slaver's tattooed skull gleamed in the prismatic light coming from the street below, the coiled serpent seeming to dance in the shifting rainbow.

The light originated from the magical phenomenon that hovered over the center of the road below. The manastorm, Slaver had called it. An eerie sight that reminded Burnout of astral space, the world he could no longer see. Reminded him of his lost dream.

The manastorm had been setting the blood spirit, La Sangre, on edge ever since they'd come near it. The spirit said nothing, but he obviously seethed at Slaver, who had sent the spirit over into the hotel room at first. La Sangre had come back in terror, ranting about an invisible spirit in that room, a spirit with such power it could banish him with a thought. Now, La Sangre huddled next to the knee-high cement ledge and whimpered.

Burnout saw hatred of the mage in the spirit's eyes, and it wasn't the first time he'd seen that. Burnout wondered if

Slaver knew that the spirit wanted to kill him. Now, Slaver seemed to ignore the increasing discomfort his ally spirit felt in the presence of the manastorm. Slaver had asked for silence so that he could listen.

The laser microphone used a light beam to detect the vibrations on the window glass of the hotel suite across the street. Any sound that hit the glass was amplified by the microphone that Burnout held in his hand; the servo mount built into his wrist kept the heavy device steady. The curtains of the chosen room were drawn and any view inside was obscured.

Several voices came through the speakers. Two voices seemed to be coming from the room, one male and one female. Another voice sounded technologically created, like it came from a telecom or a trideo. Burnout had heard the male's voice before; it matched the pattern in his memory of the human he'd fought with back in San Marcos. In the helicopter. This one fought very well, surprisingly quick and stronger than he looked.

His name was Ryan Mercury.

He was the man Burnout had been ordered to kill, and his voice filled Burnout's head like a ghost of static, and it took all Burnout's concentration and effort to remain still. The man was close, just across the wide space, inside the hotel.

"Yes, Jane?" came Mercury's voice.

"I've got Assets, Incorporated on line," came another voice, tinny and barely audible. Burnout assumed this was Jane.

"Good," Mercury said. "How do I get transportation to their compound?"

"I've reserved you a suborbital seat to Seattle, diplomat class, of course. Axler will meet you when you land. She'll escort you to the Assets compound."

"Are she and the others ready for the run?"

"By the time you get to the compound, they'll be prepped."

"Good." After a pause, "What, Lethe?" Then, "Okay, right away."

There was nothing for a moment except for the sound of fingers tapping on a keyboard. Burnout felt an itch in his mind, a need to fulfill. To kill this Ryan Mercury. He was

here now. No time to waste. This one was fast, quick. He might be gone anytime. He might slip away.

"The male voice matches our target," Burnout said. "We should kill him now while he's-"

"Shut the frag up!" Slaver said in a harsh whisper. "I'm trying to listen here, you complete imbecile! I need to make absolutely sure it's him before we can proceed. Spirits hang you."

"But-"

"Just shut up and hold that laser mike steady!"

Burnout felt the hatred surge inside him. He had already verified the target's identity. Slaver was becoming a liability to their mission. He would have to be neutralized so that Burnout could proceed with the assassination. Burnout's aim on the laser mike wavered, sluing to the left.

Static screamed in the speakers as the laser raked across the glass. Slaver glanced up at Burnout, another spiteful reproach on his lips.

Then the drug filled Burnout's body with pleasure, and he remembered his life of magic, back in his teen years when he ran free with his friends. He dazzled them with a levitation spell he'd learned from old man Getty.

Slaver's abuse didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Burnout got the laser focused again. But the suite was silent now. The conversation had ended. Mercury had left. They had lost him.

"Fragging slot!" Slaver said. "If that was really Mercury, you just let him get away."

Burnout merely stood there and thought of his past. Pleasant memories. The drug coursed through him, warming him from inside. It didn't matter what Slaver said. Even though Burnout knew the mage was wrong, he would stand and take the blame. If they'd acted instead of waited, Mercury would be dead now.

But that didn't matter. Slaver was right. Burnout was wrong.

And Ryan Mercury was alive, but not for too much longer. It was the promise of another fight with him that filled Burnout with a rush of adrenaline. This time the fight would be to the death, bloody and gruesome. This time there would

be no capture orders, no restraints to keep Burnout from inflicting death upon the man.

There would be no injections of gamma-scopolamine to immobilize the body. There would be nothing that could save the man's flesh. There would be only broken bones, gushing blood, and one eviscerated human corpse.

Ryan settled in his seat as the suborbital descended into SeaTac. He'd been contemplating what had happened in Washington. He'd nearly killed Nadja, had come to the edge of destroying the one person he still had feelings for. And for what?

He didn't really know. And that scared the drek out of him.

A shiver shook him. He had some serious problems to work through. Bits and fragments of his Roxborough past were coming back to him at unexpected times; they made him act erratically. That last one had nearly cost him Nadja's life. I'll have to be very careful, he thought. And strong, so that I can see right from wrong.

Ryan was anxious for action. It had been only three days since he'd been rescued, and he was already getting jittery from lack of motion. That had been one of the major reasons he'd decided to go ahead with the Dragon Heart mission, at least for now. To combat the boredom. And to move, to act. He was a physical adept; his life was defined by action and physical activity. Excessive stasis gave him too much time to think.

Too much time to relive Roxborough's memories.

The shuttle plunged out of the stratosphere like an aerodynamic rock, the slope of its descent frighteningly steep, though the ride was very smooth. Soon Ryan was on the ground and being greeted by Axler at the terminal.

She gave him a cold smile, the doe-brown color of her eyes matching her tasseled suede jacket. She looked good in street attire, though her posture was aggressive, almost hostile. Par for the course. She was hard and wasn't about to show any hint of weakness.

She pushed a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes. "Dhin is waiting," she said.

"Great to see you too," Ryan said. "I'm fine, thanks for asking."

Almost brought a smirk to her face. Then she stifled it and turned to face him. "Look, Ryan, I'm not one for small talk and chitchat. You want that, get yourself a biff."