Book One.Chapter 11

-Chapter 11

"You are wearing blue. What is the meaning of this?" inquired Ximénes.

"It is my new statement of Faith, dear brother. That men receive Grace from God above, not from the blood of simple men." Alfonzo said, standing before the Grand Inquisitor, unapologetically refusing to bow.

"What exactly do you mean to imply?" Ximénes said while raising a hand to the guards tellIng them to hold.

"You know full and well, brother." said Alfonzo. Ximénes dropped his hand.

"Then you truly defied my decree, and the authority of the Pope. Clearly, you did not just burn that tome like I told you." said Ximénes when the guards surrounded Alfonzo. They all took a step back when bluish green flame suddenly flared around Alfonzo like a cloak.

"God burns me with a new fire that defends the defenseless instead of condemning them to hell." said Alfonzo. The heat from the flame kept the guards from coming any closer. Ximénes drew his sword and dared the heat to give a swipe that fell short. He still could not get close enough. Taking the water basin next to his throne, Ximénes threw it. Once the water hit the flames, they only grew.

"Heretic! You commit sorcery! You are no longer my brother!" screamed Ximénes.

"Brother Ximénes! If you only took the time to read this tome, you would know the difference between the tricks of demons, and magic turned to the glory of God. And you would have seen the Seal of the Apostles." Alfonzo said, lifting an open book to the page shimmering with an unmistakable shape, also ablaze with blue flame. As the fire engulfed Alfonzo, neither he or anything in his grasp burned or singed.

"I said, you are not my brother! You put that there! You profane the church, and pervert the holy symbol to your own ends! By the authority granted from Heaven, I cast you from this place! Leave now, blasphemer! Leave, heretic!" said Ximénes. He took hold of a lamp stand and toppled it down toward Alfonzo. Avoiding the stand, Alfonzo turned to leave. Before leaving, he could see Ximénes taking a candle and setting fire to a portrait from the wall...

Alfonzo woke from the daydream. A notification rang in from Frank.

"What is the situation, Franklin?" asked Alfonzo, reaching for the blinds to let in the morning light that was just now breaking through what remained of the rain clouds. The horizon shone a violent red against the grey.

"Not good. Victory has just shipped out for America. He hired a bunch of shady characters to help man the Nicholas Spehar. Unless someone intercepts, there's going to be a catastrophe hitting U.S. shores." said Frank. The sound of the Cretan port Frank was calling from was overwhelming the microphone, distorting Frank's voice as he spoke. The message was clear enough. Alfonzo told Frank his next assignment, giving clear instruction before ending the call. The daydream must have been pointing to this moment, concluded Alfonzo. He came to a decorative wardrobe, and opened it to reveal on a dusty mannequin a blue cloak and hat. They were of such design that was of a time long lost. The stories behind every repaired hem and seam did not account for all the adventures seen from beneath the hat. At one point an enchantment had been put on it which still rung with every blue fiber as Alfonzo brushed a hand against it. There was also a book on a pedestal which Alfonzo took with him. The faded Latin words on the thick leather cover in translation read "The Account of Simon the Magician."

Then, Alfonzo called out to the Flying Dutchman. and in flawless Dutch requested a flight to the nearest airbase. The commanding officer stationed there just so happened to owe a few favors to E50 over a particular incident nearly leading to a young Colonel Hamlisch's gruesome demise in a rusty North Korean brig at lesser known Russian port.

"I require your fastest helicopter." said Alfonzo.

"Cisco Alfonzo? I didn't recognize you at first, chap. Not in all this blue." said the Colonel, as he squinted to make out the face for sure. Right away, Hamlisch guided Alfonzo to the helipad. Some officers and armed escorts climbed aboard, and the helicopter was off.

"A modern warship like the Spehar would most definitely be able to spot you at a distance."  Hamlisch radioed to Alfonzo.

"This should be close enough." Alfonzo radioed to the pilot. The ship was barely within site. Threats were being sent to them on every communication device not to come any closer. A warning shot was given by some sort of energy pulsing weapon. The beam seamed to change the climate around the chopper for a brief second, causing momentarily turbulence as well. Remaining calm, Alfonzo made a motion with his hands while murmuring some sort of incantation. In his hand formed a large fish scale, then Alfonzo opened the door of the chopper letting the scale fall into the deep.

"We may now return to shore." Alfonzo instructed the pilot. As the chopper changed course, there was a flash of magical light beneath the waves. Within minutes a massive serpent spawned from the scale and attacked the hijacked naval vessel.

Victory came topside to face the imminent threat to his transport to the United States. The few deckhands beside him saw Victory personally collide with the mythical creature trying to capsize the Nicholas Spehar. A thundering fist met with the serpent's skull. Victory then forced the serpent to relent from constricting the ship. The serpent then kept a cautious distance. While still deterring the ship from going in the direction of the U.S. The particle beams simply deflected off of the creature's reflective and armored scales. Victory ordered no explosive ordinances be wasted on the serpent, as they were still needed for the amphibious assault intended for the New Jersey shores. The massive serpent was a firm enough wall between Victory and the U.S.

"Make a heading South." commanded Victory while entering the control room. The thugs operating the helm acknowledged. The second mate and quartermaster questioned which shoreline to aim for. The serpent continued to remain between the ship and the target country.

"Make for South America." said Victory. This bewildered his subordinates. "My plan has not changed. I will simply make a detour. Perhaps we may bring more to the cause, as well."

"She was being difficult." explained the supposed agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Jim had asked why Anne Rice had her hands zip-tied.

"And would you expect her sister to be any more cooperative after seeing this?" said Jim. He quickly cut the zip-tie cuffs.

"You are not from the FBI! Who are you?" said Anne. Jim frowned at this remark.

"If you would just cooperate, ma'am-" one of the henchmen began to say.

"My brother is a Navy Commander. He has a few friends in suits that practically run the Bureau-- just a phone call away. You want me to cooperate? Then you better tell me who the crap you really are!" said Anne, now trying to get between Grace and the thugs. Grace didn't know what to care at this moment. All she could think about still was what was painted on her locker. That, and where was Max now? What kind of trouble was he in?

"Just calm down, Miss Rice. Everybody calm down." said Jim, waving his arms.

"I called the police. You can explain to them what's going on, if you want." said Anne.

"I really wish you hadn't done that." replied Jim. At that moment, sirens were immediately heard.

"You are right, after all." Jim continued to say as cops piled out of their cars. They formed a perimeter around the old rock quarry off of Gould road, demanding Jim and the gang to drop their firearms. "The problem is, we're a lot worse than the FBI."

After saying such, a sniper in the hills landed a shot through a cop's torso. The other thugs then proceeded to mow the rest of law enforcers down with their assault rifles. Grace was officially frightened now.

"Why are you kidnapping us!?" she said, wishing Max would come out already.

"You know why, kid. You're not the one we're after." replied Jim.

"Why can't you just leave him alone!" cried Grace.

"Speak of the devil!" Jim said then as Max landed in front of them.

"Have they harmed you, Grace?" asked Max, moving beside her. Anne was perplexed, as were the thugs.

"That's the Omega Project? The thing talks now? The buzzards would find this interesting." said one of the thugs, looking to Jim.

"They certainly would, wouldn't they?" Jim said, nodding in Max's direction.

"What kind of gun is that in it's hand?" pondered an other of the thugs. The moment turned dark as the group realized it was the rifle belonging to their sniper. The thugs in suits took aim, yet Jim held up his hand. Anne took hold of grace and brought her screaming to the ground. Max hurled the rifle and leaped toward Jim. Reaching beneath his jacket, Jim tore out his sword and swung it. Jim's opposite hand took out the pistol which rang a few bursts of rounds here and there. From the sword came a flame like wind. The rifle Max threw landed into the face of a thug more far off. Then Max's fists ran into the other two toward Jim's left. The flame from Jim's sword fell on the thugs to his right. This fire kept off their aim and lit their suits while the bullets he shot silenced their cries. Within some solid seconds, Jim and Max were the only two standing.

It took a moment before Anne felt safe enough to lift up her head. Grace got herself up first, and rushed to put her arms around Max.

"It is going to be alright." Max assured Grace, patting her back. Anne finally lifted her head, putting pieces together. One major blank arose first when she gazed at the dead police officers.

"Why didn't you save them, too?" said Anne.

"Why did you call them in the first place? Really? Doesn't anyone trust someone with a badge these days?" said Jim, not implying he was happy about it.

"It would help if you showed a real badge!" Anne said, getting on her shaking feet.

"Fine! I'm Agent James Fly of the CIA! Happy?" replied Jim, throwing his legitimate badge at Anne's feet.

"Don't expect me to believe you're a good guy now!" Grace told Jim with a glare.

"It is alright, Grace. Who on earth would not want a second chance?" said Max. "I know I do."

Jim fought the urge for a smoke, then sheathed his weapons.

"Yeah, yeah. Now let's get back the car with Miss Eleanor.she looks lonely in there. And scared as hell." said Jim. Anne couldn't stop starring at the second major blank in the puzzle.

"Annie, this is my best friend; Max." said Grace.

Book One.Chapter 10

-Chapter 10

"Dyslexia?" said Jim, making sure he heard right.

"That's right. And if you mean to take her anywhere for an extended period of time, she is going to need someone to help her with studying."  affirmed Ms. Eleanor, concerning the relocation of the student in question.

"That's some sort of disability, then?" asked Jim, trying to get it as straight as can be.

"A form of learning disorder. Grace cannot functionally read like we can. She needs special attention." said Ms. Eleanor, gripping her binder to her chest.

"And you would be able to give her this attention?" said Jim, guessing from the look of urgency.

"If it's not too much trouble." said Ms. Eleanor. She was sensitive to the sudden cries heard in the hallway, outside the office door. Upon opening the door, Grace was seen with crocodile tears in her eyes.

"Someone wrote something on my locker. I don't know what it says." said Grace, grabbing Ms. Eleanor's hand. Excusing herself from the teacher's meeting, Ms. Eleanor was led to Grace's locker. The strawberry magnet was missing. But covering the rest of the locker was some hasty graffiti.

"What does it say?" asked Grace, tugging at Ms. Eleanor's arm. Looking around, Ms. Eleanor made note of the crowd that was gathering.

"Don't-" she began to say, getting distracted from the jeering high schoolers as well as quite taken back by the choice of words painted on the locker for all to see.

"What does it say!?" Grace begged, frustrated with the whole world and herself.

"Grace." said Ms. Eleanor, calmly. "Don't worry about it. Just get your things, and go. Come on."

Jim followed along, not impressed by the behavior of the snot nosed kids gawking about. That, and the words on the locker, which read "Suicide Slut."

"Alright!" Jim exclaimed at the top of his lungs over the din of pint sized dweebs straight from an after school special. He pulled out his badge and began shouting further when he had the attention of those around. "This school is hereby on Code Z, lock down! Courtesy of the United States Government! Everybody, get the hell to your classrooms!"

"What does it say?" Grace continued to repeat amidst sobbing. Ms. Eleanor took Grace's key to open the locker. Grace threw her books against the next locker, her violent lament refusing to end so quickly. If it would help the mood, Ms. Eleanor would have told her. The offensive words were still beyond Ms. Eleanor to repeat.

"What kind of authority do you have? To call a Code Z?" said the Principal, getting in Jim's face.

"I would hope I have more authority than whoever allowed this art project!" Jim said right back, pointing to the vandalism all over Grace's locker.

"The Nation is in martial law. Nothing wrong with acting like it is, anyway." Jim followed up, turning from the old man principle and walking into the bathroom.

After splashing some water on his face From the sink, Jim was startled by another presence in the room.

"Where are you taking Grace?" asked Max. He was standing at a distance behind Jim, yet was not threatening in tone or posture, whatever one could make of such when Max's entire torso was his head. That, and looking like a four foot tall cartoon character in real life put a damper on Max's intimidation factor.

"What does it matter to you?" Jim asked in return, also remaining calm. But some less than fond memories were in conflict with this situation, making Jim reach for his gun.

"Where ever Grace goes, so do I." said Max.

"You are much more talkative than I remember." said Jim, gripping the pistol. He took off the safety, and switched on the automatic fire.

"I do not remember you at all." Max said inquisitively.

"That's because I was safe behind blinded reinforced glass. You were also pretty occupied with chewing on what was left of the scientist."  recalled Jim, pulling out the pistol and aiming right between the eyes.

"I do not understand." said Max, trying to recall for himself and failing. "Do you know where I come from?"

"Don't you look all innocent on me. Yeah, I saw you when you were born, created, synthesized-what ever you want to call it! And you were treated like a caged wild animal, because that's all you acted like!" said Jim, reaching for the sword cleverly hidden within his long jacket. As he gripped the hilt, Jim prepared himself as best he could for what would happen next. Only, what happened next was that Max began to openly sob.

"What am I?" he cried, falling to his knees. Jim was not at all prepared to deal with his target having emotions. Hesitantly he holstered his pistol and removed the hand from the sword.

"It's a strange story. And besides all this? I still doubt the ending's going to happy." said Jim.

The air was stifling within the main office as Ms. Eleanor and Grace were waiting along with their armed escort. The escort was a pair of large shady looking men wearing clean cut black suits, packing highly modified forms of M-16 rifles that were not any sort of the standard issue one was accustomed to seeing FBI carry. At least, on television it wasn't so. Of course, these men were no FBI agents. At long last, Jim burst in.

"Forward the rest of her study material to this address." Jim said to the assistant principle, handing her a piece of paper. The assistant looked astonished.

"Yes. It is not her home address, nor a residential address. Because the whereabouts of Grace Taylor Rice is classified until further notice." said Jim before the obvious could be asked. Grace made a huff.

"How do you know my middle name?" she said, glaring.

  "Well, what I am more concerned with is why the school has... this particular nickname for you." Jim began to say, avoiding using the actual terms written on the locker to be sensitive. He looked more to Ms. Eleanor for his question. "Is there something I should know about before we continue?"

"If you would, please." said Ms. Eleanor quietly implying the intense sensitive nature of the incident in question.

"I'm waiting outside." said Grace, making for the door. She looked to the escorts. "Coming, boys?"

They looked to Jim first, who nodded to them. As they left, Ms. Eleanor continued.

"Not that it's something to announce over the loudspeaker or anything. Grace was not handling the transition to this school district very well. Two months before the school year started, she suffered from acute depression. Grace attempted suicide, and nearly succeeded." said Ms. Eleanor.

"So, what would you suggest, given your professional opinion?" asked Jim, presuming.

"I'm just a special needs teacher. Not a therapist. My professional opinion doesn't carry much weight in this case. But, if you were to ask what I think? Honestly, from what I've seen today, I could easily agree that removing Grace from this environment is in her best interest."

"Fair enough for me." said Jim. He then opened the door, motioning the lady to exit first.

"You sure you don't want me on the turret there, sheila?" Bill had asked after a rocket came dangerously close to exploding into the glorified SUV they were driving down range. Alice barely managed to point the gun towards the incoming rocket in time to blast it. She answered with the stark silence that the Serene Corp Mini Electrolaser was becoming rather famous for on the battlefield, as it shot bolts like lightning to incinerate it's targets.

"How's the weather in China these days?" Bill asked next.

"I'm from Japan." Alice replied with notable disdain for ignorance. Bill clunked his head with his palm.

"How much further?" Alice asked this time.

"I'm not like a stunned mullet here. But I'm not sure. Never got an exact position on the guy. Just some rumors." said Bill, staring into the snow lined urban tundra. It was growing rather bare of population as they barreled down the streets heading North. This was more clear as there were less and less guns firing at them. Then, finally they hit a patch of the city which was freakishly quiet as opposed to viciously ear piercing with the sounds of war. "We better find him before those Ruskies do. No tellin what the Reds will put Volden up to if they find him first."

"Let's stop here and ask around." said Alice, pointing to what looked like a diner, news stand, and a candy shop.

"Just so you know, my Ukrainian is more than a little rusty." Bill tried to explain before he was flat out embarrassed by how little he could communicate so much as a "hello" to the locals.

"It is dangerous out here for foreigners." said a man walking up to them. "What am I saying, though? Come on inside! Foreigners are just what I am looking for!"

"Call me Al. Welcome. Welcome." said Al, practically shoving the two in his little candy shop. Then Al proceeded to the counter where he took a couple pieces of candy, handing them to Alice and Bill.

"My latest invention. Please try. Star Spangled Starfruit, I call it. We don't get much starfruit here, so I was sad when I try to come up with flavor. But from foreigner I meet one day, he say that starfruit taste sort of like lemon and orange together. So I mix lemon and orange together. What you think?" said Al, eager for their review. Alice stared at the red white and blue cube in her hand, not knowing how to explain. The expecting look on Al's face forced her to put the candy in her mouth anyway.

"Mmm. So good." she feigned as best she could for the lack of sensation she truly felt.

"Not bad, mate." said Bill. Not knowing what else to say. Still, the words were enough to bring a smile on Al's face.

"Nothing warms this heart more than to see the childrens content with candy in their mouths." said Al, motioning them to follow him into the back room. There were several different vats full of bubbling liquids, and countless bags everywhere full of powders and chemicals. On the wall was a blackboard coated with scrawled mathematical equations.

"I found this to be the best use of expertise. I use these chemicals, and I crunch numbers. The result is what you see out there. Harmless. Innocent. Candy." Al continued to say. He picked up a dash of green powder, and threw it in a vat of blue stuff. A puff of smoke and chemicals, then the contents of the vat turned red. "When I was child, I see movie. Willy Wonka. He was my idol. A man who was genius, but make candy for living."

Alice nudged Bill as she began putting pieces together.

"So, would Al be short for Alexey?" Bill asked cautiously.

"I would suppose Mother Russia would have me make bombs for them. Restart arms race with Capitalist America. Would America be any different, I wonder?" said Al, staring into the vat of red.

"We represent the United Nations. We think you might be able to help stop a terrible war that would involve the whole world." said Alice, stepping closer to Al.

"Alexey Volden Junior. Who is he? I am just candy maker who make candy for childrens." said Al, refusing to turn from the vat. Alice and Bill looked at one another, and walked out of the room.

"How do we go from here, you gather?" asked Bill.

"It's not like we should take him by force. I'm not sure, though." said Alice.

"Oi! You miss secret ingredient." said Al, beckoning them back into the room. They returned to find Alexey holding some sort of tube with a keypad and screen on it. After typing a long series of some sort of code into the keypad. Then, Alexey pulled on a trigger mechanism, lowering the nozzle above the vat of red.

"The Universal Catalyst. My father's discovery. He discover it, and how to manipulate the catalyst to produce reactions that defy known chemistry. He called it the Rasputin particle." Alexey said as a single golden droplet fell into the vat of red, and a reaction began to take place. Steam rose from the vat, and bubbling rose on the surface of the liquid along with an eerie light. The steam became so much until nothing could be seen for a moment. As the reaction ended, and the steam dissipated, what was left in the vat was countless cubes of red white and blue.

Book one.Chapter 9

-Chapter 9

Rain was pouring against the windows of the E50 headquarters in London. Alfonzo was calmly reading a bible in solemn silence. News had broken out of yet another failed preemptive strike on Victory on the shores of Crete. As with the second, this third strike was completely caught on world video. Now the whole world was whiteness to Victory displaying his ability to take military rockets to the chest with no physical harm done to him. Analysts and experts were attempting to explain it as some new breakthrough in force field technology that Serene Corporation already in prototype phase. Some leaked videos that hit the web exposed what those prototypes looked like, which raised reasonable doubt that Victory was the simple result of technology. The exposé revealed that top of the line Serene Corp force field engines were more than three stories tall, requiring a stationary power source of immense capacity. This led general consensus to consider it less than likely that someone was able to perfect such a device to be portable and invisible on the user.

As the water pelted against the glass, Alfonzo buried himself in the words of one of the psalms. He did his best to momentarily put aside the situation with Victory, and America's response. On the computer monitor, a notification chimed. This came much to Alfonzo's surprise, as he had disabled notifications for the time being. The notification came as a cartoon version of Alice giving a peace sign. Upon pressing the icon, Alice was visible on the screen.

"Phase one is ready. I have scanned and confirmed Agent Herd's location." said Alice.

"Very well. Proceed as directed, Miss Fujieda. Find Alexey Volden Junior." said Alfonzo. Alice gave a salute and signed off. Another notification rang on the monitor through the emergency channel. Alfonzo let out a despondent sigh as the notification was that of a mayday call, as Victory was just then commandeering a US Naval vessel. The USS Nicholas Spehar, designated SXN-02 was praised to be a Serene Corp masterpiece of Naval warfare and Special Operations. Upon the initial declaration of war given by Victory, the Fleet Admiral had the boat launched under direct order by the President to deploy the most capable force to neutralize any and all threats associated with Victory. The vessel was outfitted with weapons that were never demonstrated to the general public before, in addition to the rest of the standard issue stacked in an armory enough to serve the needs of a small army.

"God help us all." prayed Alfonzo, returning to his reading.

"Righto. Some mate needs to brass up that left flank." suggested the man calling shots on the front edge of a perimeter made surrounding Horlivka. The man tilted up the wide brim of his leather hat, his E50 tactical suit scrunching as it moved. He kept going between talking on the transceiver to looking through a pair of binoculars. Without warning, there was a flash, and Alice appeared out of thin air.

"Woah! Holy dooly! I must be nackered! Some ricer sheila just hopped outa my battle tranny!" said the E50 operative. The term ricer was not taken well, as evident in the massive slap in the face Alice gave the man.

"Not the best time to be away with the fairies, Major!" came the voice on the other end of the transceiver.

"Shut ya gob, and brass up the left flank!" the Major replied with gusto. The order was then acknowledged, and heavy machine gun fire could then be heard raining down hell upon the counteroffensive coming in from the North.

"Now, pardon the offense, Miss." said the Major, changing to a far more cordial tone.

"Of course you may want to-" as the Major continued, a bullet landed inches from where Alice stood. "Yeah. You're gonna want to get in cover. We're pinned down by two snipers right now."

Alice immediately ducked next to the Major behind the car which barely masked them from the rifles. She flinched as the second bullet buzzed by her head.

"They're in those buildings just up ahead... I think I can nail em." said the Major, which made Alice curious. The Major wasn't carrying a rifle, or anything resembling a gun on him. It was hard to tell as he wore a black cloak over his tactical suit. Putting his back against the car, the Major unfurled his cloak unveiling an arsenal of curious looking bladed weapons. Their intended use was somewhat clear when the Major took one of them in each hand, and threw them in the direction he was facing. Before Alice could bother asking why the Major chucked the blades in the opposite direction of the snipers, he waved a hand in the air. Once more a pair of bullets zipped by in uncomfortably close proximity of them. Quietly, slowly, and verbally the Major counted to three.

"Righto, then. Let's stand up and look pretty for the nice gentlemen up there." said the Major, which was definitely confusing Alice. "Av-a-go, mate! Up!" he insisted, taking Alice's hand and dragging her onto her feet.

"Smile pretty, now." said the Major, himself grinning ear to ear and waving his hand. "That's it. You bloody well aim right at us, and..."

As this was going on, the bladed boomerangs that the Major hurled did an inertia defying curve in the air. They both suddenly shot upward, then backwards in the air, as well as increasing in velocity as they flew. Then as the two stood up and bated the snipers to remain in the open while they took aim, the boomerangs landed in the head of both snipers. They were both instantly neutralized. The apparently sharper of the two barely managed to squeeze off another round that was put enough off the mark in the nick of time so it only smashed through the car window instead of tearing a hole in the Major's chest.

"Hwah! Fair crack of the whip? If not for a hair's length, it woulda been curtains! That's a bloody oath! Haha!" shouted the Major, with excitement to make Alice seriously wonder about his sanity.

"Any who. I am Major William Herd of Australian Special Operations Command, at your service. Also known by E50 as Agent William Herd. You may just call me Bill." said Bill, taking his hat off and giving a short bow as he addressed the lady.

"Dr. Alice Fujieda. As of now, I am a fellow Agent of E50." said Alice, still not feeling at ease with the continuing sounds of gunfire all around.

"Welcome to the recently independent Ukraine. Now, never in a dream has a sheila given me a job in the face. But forgive me if I am still a little concerned in just how you got here like you did?" said Bill.

"It's complicated." Alice hinted with a nervous smile.

"Well. I don't reckon it's as complicated as to why you dropped in, eh?" Bill followed up, kicking at a shell on the ground.

"I suppose not. Alfonzo needs us to find Volden Junior." said Alice, brushing her shoulders, and like magic her outfit changed from her lab coat to that of an E50 combat suit.

"What's all this hocus pocus?" asked Bill, remarking at the display.

"Cross digital storage. With the help from my personal computation engine program, I invented it within the seconds it took me to crossload myself here through your wireless devices." Alice loosely explained.

"What the flak does crossload mean?" asked Bill, not quite fascinated by the technobabble.

"It means to upload, or for lack of a smarter term, teleport something physical from one place to an other by means of the cross digital process." said Alice. She pulled out the handgun from the holster on her leg, and meant to make a more impressive demo of her cross digital technology. The gun clicked, yet was without any rounds. Then it suddenly flared up, and Alice had to throw it away before it blew up in her hands.

"There's some kinks I still need to work out." she said, bringing up a selection screen in front of her as if out of no where. "With the right modifications, and rights to a legitimate storage facility, I could create the most efficient mobile storage/delivery system ever to be conceived."

Bill looked over her shoulder, getting interested when a specific model number came up.

"Is that the Drummer, DX 12?" he asked.

"If by that you mean the most advanced all terrain reconnaissance vehicle to date." said Alice with a smile. She pressed on the selection and the mentioned vehicle momentarily materialized before them.

"And it's in GI green! Ripper!" said Bill, officially impressed. "We'll need this, otherwise we're gonna go walkabout looking for Volden. My sources put him 50 k's south of Woop Woop, which is somewhere in that mess over there."

Bill pointed in the general direction he earlier ordered to be "brassed up." The machine guns were still going, and Alice suddenly had second thoughts.

"Aw. No worries, mate! She'll be apples!" assured Bill with a hard pat on Alice's shoulder. "Now let's climb on in this Yank Tank, and put the petal to the metal! As they say, yeah?"

Meanwhile, back in America, Jim's sleek black sedan makes it's way to Chenango Forks High School. Max maintains pursuit of them at a distance, and out of the sight of passersby.

"Where is it?" asked Jim.

"The school is just down this way." said Grace.

"I'm in no mood for the Mickey Mouse games, kid. I mean, where is the thing you call Max?" said Jim.

"I call him Max because he's not just a thing!" said Grace.

"What convinces you otherwise?" Jim asked, coldly.

"The way he speaks. The way he's always there for me, when no one else is! The way Max has been my only real friend in this stupid place since I moved here!" Grace began to rant on. Something perked Jim's ears, making the decision easier for him to make. Yet he kept his act up the whole way to the school. It was just a shame a civilian had to get involved.

Book one.Chapter 8

-Chapter 8

The smell of diesel fumes and the grind of the bus engines were not the same that day. For one, she never rode a school bus before. She used to walk to school. So many things had changed that summer. The fifteen year old girl never had so much attention from people. That made her first day at this school all the more unbearable than it was for her already. The word had obviously gotten out about what she did. The neighbors certainly had big mouths.

"Grace Rice?" asked a woman standing at the door. She was in a rich looking tan coat and grey suit. In one hand was a clipboard, and a brown leather bag in the other. Her name badge read Ms. Eleanor. Grace just stared at her, frustration painted on her face beneath the mess of dark brown hair.

"Grace. That's a pretty name. It happens to be my name, too. Let's be friends." said Ms. Eleanor with a warm smile. Grace huffed and kept walking.

"I spoke with your mother over the phone." continued Ms. Eleanor, quickly following the girl.

"She's my sister." Grace said dejectedly without even turning back to Ms. Eleanor.

"Oh. Right. I'm sorry." said Ms. Eleanor. "I imagine this must be a lot different than UE."

"It's small. Smells funny. And my friends aren't here." said Grace. Silent eyes continued to turn to her as she walked down the hallway. Grace tried hard to ignore them. She was about to go around the next corner before Ms. Eleanor gently touched her shoulder.

"Your locker is right over here." she said, pointing. "Number 307. Just remember this is where the three hundreds are."

Grace walked over to where she pointed, scanning along the number tags. She stood for a good minute searching the numbers before pointing at one.

"This one?" asked Grace, looking at Ms. Eleanor for the first time in the eyes. Ms. Eleanor nodded with a patient smile, walking up to it. She took out something she was holding, and placed it on the locker door. It was a magnet in the shape of a strawberry.

"Here. This will help you know which one is yours." said Ms. Eleanor.

"I'm not a baby." Grace said angrily.

"Grace. I know. I'm just trying to help. That's what I'm here for." said Ms. Eleanor.

"And stop pretending like you don't know." said Grace.

"Know what?" asked Ms. Eleanor. The flat stare Grace gave made it clear. Ms. Eleanor came closer, speaking in a soft whisper. "Your sister mentioned what happened. I'm not a counselor, so I'm not qualified to talk you through that anyway."

Grace's attention was drawn to the students on the other side of the hall who were just standing there looking at her. Ms. Eleanor frowned at them before standing between them and placing her hands on Grace's shoulders.

"But, I'm here for you, Grace. I know we can get through this together. Can we at least try?" said Eleanor. Grace looked at her, holding back tears. Then she broke from Ms. Eleanor, walking down the hallway.

"Your first class is English, right?" said Ms. Eleanor, still following. "It's right over this way."

As Grace was guided to the classroom, the boys who were standing across her locker sniggered to each other.

It was a rather long bus ride home. The construction and occasional military envoys made it even longer. In one way it worked out, though. Grace stared at her English textbook, just wishing she could be able to just finish it on the ride. Walking up the driveway, Grace saw that her sister's car was missing from the driveway. As she came to the door, Grace sighed as she dug the key from her pocket. She turned the lights on, and sure enough, the recorder was on the table next to a place setting. Grace pressed play on the old mini tape recorder, bringing it to her ear.

"Hey there, Gracey! The boss called me back for inventory tonight. Sorry. I won't be back until late. I'll have to ask how your first day went in the morning." said the recording.

"Figures." said Grace. The recording continued as she placed it back on the table.

"I left a fresh pizza and wings in the oven. And there's soda in the fridge. Leave some for me! Heh heh... Y'know. You haven't told me what you wanted for your birthday. It's coming up. You still have about a week, so let me know soon, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." replied Grace, peering into the oven.

"Now, look... I know it's been really hard for you since we moved to Port Crane. You know that if I had any choice at all, we would have stayed in Endicott. Where all your friends are. But we have to leave that all behind us now, okay? We gotta be strong... For each other, we have to be strong. Just like when mom and dad left us." said the recording. The whole time, Grace was busy packing as much of the food as possible into Tupperware. As she opened the fridge, Grace paused as her sister mentioned their parents. After grabbing the soda bottle, Grace slammed the door and headed out of the house. The recording continued as she walked off of the front porch.

"Speaking of mom and dad. I was thinking we could go see them tomorrow..."

The State Park was the only place in real walking distance from Pigeon Hill Road. It was also the only place Grace felt she could be by herself, in a manner of speaking.

"Max! You here?" she yelled out as she was on the Bog Trail. Grace was about to yell out again. She froze at the sight of a stranger walking down from the other direction, as if out of no where.

"Who is Max?" said Jim, adjusting his sunglasses. Grace remained silent.

"Look, kid. Have you seen anything strange around here?" said Jim, showing a badge.

"Nope." Grace said simply, continuing on the path. She put her hands around her mouth and yelled out again.

"Hey, Max! If you're out there, just come to the house! The coast is clear!"

"Kids being kids." Jim mumbled to himself with a smirk, walking along. After a few moments, he stopped as he encountered a peculiar looking foot print. Jim looked back at the girl, in thought.

"Right... Probably." he said under his breath as Grace walked off back for home...

A tapping came on the window. Grace was busy fussing with some project. She was working on it the whole time while she was waiting.

"Use the front door, doofus! It's unlocked!" Grace shouted. Fumbling steps were heard on the porch before the door cracked open. Grace urged him. "It's okay, Max. Come on in."

"Why did you have to call me a doofus?" said Max.

"Takes one to know one, right?" Grace replied with a giggle. Max wasn't laughing.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"I was teasing you! You gotta tease me back. It's proper that way." said Grace, saying the word proper with a goofy flare of aristocratic pomposity.

"You find odd things to be proper." said Max with a shake of his big head.

"Fun. It's fun that way. You really need to work on fun, Max. Now get in here! I've got something to show you." insisted Grace, opening the door wider to let her friend in. Then she suddenly shut the door back on him.

"Oh, wait! You gotta close your eyes!" said Grace, blocking the way as well.

"But I would not be able to see where I am going." Max said uncomfortably as he was squeezed by the door and the frame.

"Silly Max. Take my hand, and trust me." Grace said, taking his hand and waiting for Max to close his eyes.

"Grace. You are acting very strange." Max said as he was guided to the mirror on the wall.

"Yeah, yeah. Now just stand right here for a second, and..."

Grace picked up her project and thrust it on Max.

"What is this on my head?" said Max.

"Just sit still!" said Grace, adjusting it. "There! Now look."

Max opened his eyes to see a denim baseball cap on his head. He fussed with it a little. Grace slapped his hand, turning the bill of the cap backwards. She then poked the hair puff on Max's forehead to force it above the strap.

"This is terribly uncomfortable." said Max.

"Y'know, Max. You remind me of someone." said Grace, looking to the television. She turned on MovieCom and selected Star Trek. Then Grace began her comparison between Spock and Max. The two ate, and enjoyed the show. After a few episodes, Max even played along imitating some of the more humorous lines that came by Spock. They were becoming less and less aware of the passage of time, before the hour was fairly late and Grace had passed out on the couch.

Around one in the morning, a truck pulled up to the house. The front door was unlocked. One by one, the lights were shut off. The television and sound system were turned off with a soft hum. The lamp next to the couch was about to be shut off before the figure noticed something else on the couch. Coming closer, it was just as hard to make out exactly what it was. It was a pale white color all over. It looked like it's head was it's torso as well. A head with arms and legs. After a while of staring at it, the figure's hand reached for the lamp and flipped the switch.

"Must be some sort of plushy thing." she said to herself as she tucked in Grace. The older sister figured the likeness of the plushy was of some new cartoon show that Grace was watching. Yet, one would almost think the thing was breathing.

The next morning, the whole house woke to the sound of pounding at the door. A groggy woman with lengthy dark brown hair. Her brown eyes blinked upon a badge held up by the man at the door. She could barely make out the name, something like Harry Reynolds of the FBI.

"Anne Elizabeth Rice?" said Jim. She responded with a raspy yes.

"Is your daughter here?" asked Jim.

"She's my-" Anne began to respond.

"Sister. I know. Is she here?" interrupted Jim, urgently.

"Well, yeah. She hasn't left for school yet." said Anne, a little more awake as she tried to process what exactly was happening.

"Ma'am, would it be alright if I had a few words with Grace?" said Jim, taking a step in the doorway.

"Um. I just don't understand why she would need to speak with an FBI agent. Um." said Anne, her hand trembling a little on the door knob. She was shaking from the thought of whether she should let the man in or not. The details were so foggy, as her vision still was from just waking up.

"I'll be straight as I can be, ma'am. It is of the utmost importance that I speak with her." said Jim, removing his sunglasses.

"But why? She's just a fifteen year old girl! Are you telling me Grace is in trouble with the federal government when she hasn't even gotten her drivers permit yet?" said Anne, just hoping her assumption was off. Jim reached and put a hand on Anne's arm.

"She's not in trouble with the law. Her life is in danger." said Jim.

"What?" exclaimed Anne, not at all comforted by the hand which she broke away from to walk inside. She let the door open and began pacing around the living room with her hands on her head.

"Have you seen anything strange lately? Anything at all?" said Jim, following behind Anne. She continued pacing, for a moment the plushy came to mind. But Anne was very occupied in thought of the situation.

"Who could be targeting her? And why did they send an FBI agent? What is-"

"Annie." said Grace, catching their attention. "Thanks for the pizza last night."

"Why is an FBI agent telling me that you're in danger? What's going on?" said Anne.

"I dunno." said Grace, with a clueless shrug of her shoulders before grabbing a bowl and a box of cereal.

"What is going on?" Grace asked as she served herself breakfast. She looked inquisitively at Jim.

"For reasons I can't quite explain right now, I need to put you in protective custody." he said, motioning with his hand for Grace to come with him.

"What about school? It's her second day today." said Anne.

"We can pick up her homework on the way." replied Jim, picking up the book bag at the door. Grace took several bites of breakfast before Anne came over her shoulder. With a sigh, Grace got up from the table and began to follow the supposed FBI agent out the door. Anne caught up with her, giving Grace a hug, not wanting to let go so soon.

"Should I be worried about myself?" Anne asked, trying to put the pieces together.

"Another detail will pick you up shortly." Jim assured with a brief smile. Then they were out the door. Anne watched from the doorstep until the car had left the drive way. She took out her cell phone and made a call, closing the door. As soon as it closed, Max dropped from the tree in the front lawn, and began following the car. His limbs stretched to impossible lengths giving Max the speed he needed to catch up...

Book one.Chapter 7

-Chapter 7

Swarms of security were about, wearing nothing else on their uniforms other than Serene Corp tools and weapons. They were rather abrupt at receiving Jim, as he was carrying weapons himself. Before he had a chance to take out his identification, they had taken hold of Jim at gun point.

"I'm one of the guys putting people on the no-fly list. You'd think I'd know if I was on it!" said Jim, making as big a scene as can be.

"You'll have to answer to the Duty Sargent. Tell him how you boarded with sidearms heading into the United States." said the guard in charge as they dragged Jim down a corridor separate from the typical air port terminals. It was a long hallway leading toward the security hub, barracks, brig, and interrogation chambers.

Waiting down the hallway was a rather tall, older man. Curled white hair, well trimmed in military fashion showed signs of a deep struggle with dandruff by the white flakes on the slim black suit. His identification badge read simply Mr. Bergeron for the name.

"That's enough boys. I've got it from here." said Mr. Bergeron. The crew halted, yet were puzzled on the conflict of authority.

"Don't make me smack the stuffing out of very single one of you! I'm surprised he hasn't yet already." insisted Mr. Bergeron.

"I see you still haven't seen the dermatologist about the flakes, huh?" said Jim as his restraints were removed. Mr. Bergeron came close raising a fist. Last minute, the spry old man turned and hit the guard in charge instead.

"I've seen you look better, too." said Mr. Bergeron. He then turned to the guard in charge once more. "Consider that even for wrongfully detaining an agent of the CIA, which still exists whether you whitey tighties agree with it or not!"

The other guards had to help the guard in charge up to his feet, and carry him onward.

"Great. Now, could we find some other place to talk? It smells like total 1984 off-duty in here." said Jim, gazing at the officers who were gathered around vid screens watching every move within the airport.

"Couldn't have said it better myself." said Mr. Bergeron.

"You got here just in time before martial law was put into effect. Lucky doesn't begin to describe it." Mr. Bergeron said after removing his lips from around a freshly rolled cigarette. The smoke billowed out as he talked, as if not bothered at all by it.

"Why martial law?" asked Jim, who had been staring at his own cig held in his hand.

"Everyone's been all uppity since toga man threatened the White House. We're just about one step from going up to DEFCON level Kiss Your Anus Goodbye." said Mr. Bergeron. "Speaking of which, kid.  I figure you know why the world never got to see Toga Man Live at the Acropolis? I know what I'm telling the Big Guy. I just want to hear it straight."

"We infiltrated, hoping we could get even more of an edge if we fried the cameras. Turned out we were just avoiding the world seeing us get our rear ends handed to us." said Jim, finally taking a drag off his cigarette.

"I hate to see our boys up against Victory, now. Y'know, these assault rifles they're using don't even use real bullets anymore? They use some new fangled high velocity, electrified gel with some sort of recoilless trigger mechanism. How the hell do you trust a rifle that has no recoil?" said Mr. Bergeron. Many eyes were on them as they were standing in the lobby, smoking like chimneys. The television screens were flooding with analysts, experts, and government representatives talking about Victory, America's new public enemy number one.

Jim sniggered at Mr. Bergeron's remark. They both fell silent as one of the reporters on the screen announced one interview in particular was to be with Dr. Cisco Alfonzo, world renown Christian philosopher.

"So, what are you doing here, kid?" asked Mr. Bergeron, lighting another stick and putting it in his lips. He had sucked the other one down to the filter.

"M Tack needs me to find their little pet." said Jim, looking as if he were sorry to say. Mr. Bergeron shook his head slowly, spitting out a violent puff of smoke.

"What do you owe those wanna be Masons?" he said, wanting to cuff the boy in the head.

"I tried to explain it before, Mr. B. The Masons had a saying. Once a Mason, always a Mason. That's one way Mike tack Omega is the same." said Jim.

Mr. Bergeron stifled a cough.

"Right, right. I'll make sure to give you clearance to where you need to go." he said, ending the conversation by stuffing his cigarette on the back of a chair. Mr. Bergeron gazed back at Jim intently.

"It still doesn't sit right with me. To see a kid like you as a triple agent." he said. Then Mr. Bergeron walked off.

A boy running from his sister in a frantic game of tag skidded into Jim's leg. Jim's green eyes were locked onto the cigarette, remaining so even after the forty pound kid hit. A sudden memory stirred in his mind, and Jim found himself in a dark, dank, smelly room so long ago. A man was in the doorway, yelling at the two thrown into the room.

"You were born for a higher purpose than games! You were born to serve the Cause!" the man in the doorway said before shutting the door. It was then swiftly locked with a hard clang that rung in the air along with the sound of foot steps leading away from the cast iron door. The two young boys huddled around a small beam of light shining from a window, etched to block anything to really be seen on the outside. It was also soundproofed to prevent anything to be heard from the inside. The boy with green eyes and brown hair turned to the other. The boy with curly blond hair and blue eyes looked at Jim, and kept repeating "I'm sorry."

The green eyes were  wide on Jim's face before he snapped back. Jim found himself staring at a kid with a black bowl cut staring back at him, the same one who bumped into him.

"Sorry." the kid said, sheepishly stepping backward.

Jim was grimly silent. Then he broke the cigarette, tossed it aside, patted the kid on the head, and walked out.

Noise was emitting from the radio again as Jim drove down the highway leading through Port Dickinson on to Port Crane. He shut the radio off with a huff. After a second thought Jim then turned it back on. The first station it tuned to made Jim jump at the sound of the Cardinal's voice. Jim reminded himself it was just the old man's radio show.

"So. My point is, Fredrick, that the so called God like qualities this man, Victory, possesses does not necessarily convince someone like me that God, as I believe in, does not exist. Very much on the contrary, sir. I see the supernatural force that is Victory as verified evidence that there exists in the universe something in which simple scientific observation cannot at all explain." Alfonzo was saying.

"But, Cisco. Do you mean to tell me that this guy is something God would allow to roam about on earth? Just to torment us?" said the caller Alfonzo was talking to.

"Fredrick-"

"Oh. But you would call it testing us, instead. Right? See. This is how closed minded thinking goes with you Christians. You go on as if everything points to your own god. It's only you're own interpretation of god. One you try to force on everyone else."

"My dear Fredrick. It is true that I am speaking from how I myself believe. If I may be bold to ask one simple question..."

"...Ask what, Mr. Alfonzo? How about I ask what your so called god is about to do about Victory? Is it going to be the same as what he did to Hitler in World War Two? Some psychotic children in Columbine? Taliban during  9/11? Huh?"

"Fredrick. Could I ask just one question?"

"Fine."

"What is so wrong about believing in God, and talking about it?"

"Well. That's not what is wrong. You're changing the subject of what I'm saying, though."

"I do not believe I am, Fredrick. What troubles me is when closed minded thinking says that Christianity is so forceful and intimidating."

"What about the crusades? And the inquisition?"

"Both are events that ended centuries ago. Would you not agree, Fredrick?"

"Tell that to people like Ken Ham. Trying to say the Christian worldview is the only viable foundation for scientific study? I mean, come on!"

"Would it surprise you to say I also disagree with Dr. Ham's choice of words in the debate you refer to? In his own words he defined science as what it is, which is theory based on observation. I think we both can agree that theory of how the universe came to be, something that --even as Dr. Ham put so well-- is impossible for anyone now to observe, does not stop someone with a differing worldview to base their observation completely on what they have seen in their own lifetime. Do we agree on this, Fredrick?"

"I guess..."

"Yet, both Dr. Ham and myself are not by any means striking terror in the hearts of society to force the world into a tyrannical theocracy. Christians today see far too much religious violence already."

"You're talking about Muslims now?"

"A shining modern example of what mistake was made with the crusades. That is what the Muslim Jehad is, would you not agree?"

"All the more reason why it is wrong to talk about god. It would cause violence."

"This is where we part on the issue, sir. Because I feel it is now so much more important to talk about God. It is vitally important to continue peaceful talking so the world does not lose sight of who God truly is behind the fog of our own sin and false justice. If the world can call Jihad an unholy war, what remains to be called holy in the world...?"

Some hundreds of miles and an ocean away from upstate New York, Alfonzo was sitting in one of his many round the world radio stations. After along winded talk with a man named Fred, Alfonzo was lost in thought remembering a day where faith was even more of a challenge. The reason it was much more of a challenge back then was not because there was so much opposition to Christian worldview...

...but no opposition at all against an army backed by a bastardization of Christianity.

Alfonzo thought of his brother...

Remembering the time, Alfonzo pressed a button, bringing himself near the microphone.

"The final words for today, listeners. We are bound to see many strange things in our lives. How we perceive such things is just as important as to how we act upon our perceptions. If one were to try and see with a worldview with the individual tint of every human being  we would find ourselves blinded by the presumptions and pride we all harbor within ourselves. How then are we to live? For myself, I can only put my trust in one prefect God to give me such an answer. This is Dr. Cisco Alfonzo. Signing off. God bless you." said Alfonzo. He clicked the button once more, then immediately turned to face a computer monitor to read on E50 reports. Naturally, he started with Jim's first.

Book one.Chapter 6

-Chapter 6

"And on another note, it seems rather strange to me that there is not even a viral video spreading on the internet of a man in a toga single handedly destroying US drones with his bare hands. Any reason why there was no media coverage at all during what I thought was supposed to be another press conference held by Mr. Victory?"

"I might have a source that can get that information, Mr. President." said one of the suits on the monitors. It was the director of CIA.

"How about another glass there, vicar?" said Jim, glass extended.

"Do you really plan on getting drunk off of sacramental wine?" said Alfonzo, hesitating.

"What. Are you a holy man or something?" replied Jim, taking the bottle himself.

"So. A subsidiary of the United Nations with the simple, and-no offense- laughable goal of gaining and maintaining world peace." said Alice, trying to get off the subject of booze. "How did this all start up?"

"After the Korean War, dreamers within the United Nations, wanting to see more results out of a supposed league of world leaders, began funding for a task force to provide peace keeping nations military aid. In those days, it certainly was a laughable cause. Yet this was only because there were so few nations investing in it. Those days, I was only a key consultant on many issues that the task force was still unable to resolve due to lack of interest by key world leaders and total investment, in addition to the lack of formal training." said Alfonzo.

"I would have figured America would have been plenty capable of funding, and running such an organization on their own." said Alice, taking a sip of the wine herself.

"Problem was, neither the U-S of A, or any other major world power saw the need in it until the resurgence of the Cold War in 1983. I was just coming out of diapers then, but my mentor was the first American on the team." said Jim, downing his glass to fill it up again. "It was just my luck that things didn't get really serious with Reagan's E50 until I stepped in. It was Operation Desert Storm, and it sure would have been a lot uglier if Australia didn't send in their operative as well."

"I was assistant director those days, under Mr. Reagan." said Alfonzo.

Jim then looked to the Dutchman.

"Makes me wonder where this guy was during all of that."

The Dutchman responded with his same smile, and a "Smokey dokey" before walking out.

"Mr. Reagan had assigned him to monitor all flights going through mainland North Asia ever since the crisis with that particular Korean airliner during his presidency." said Alfonzo.

"Sure. Leave everything in the sand box up to the Aussie and the American. I see the logic."

"Now that you mention your Australian friend, I should say that Mr. Herd has been doing fairly well as of late."

"So he's told me. He's been giving the Ruskies hell over in the Ukraine, so he says. Too bad he won't get the credit for it." said Jim, raising his glass in honor.

"Which brings us to our next operation, including you Miss Fujieda, assuming you are still willing to operate with E50?" said Alfonzo, looking to the binary woman.

"As long as it eventually leads to the end of Serene Corporation. I can guess well enough that your top priority right now is dealing with Victory. To be honest, I'm not sure if I want to stop him. It seems to me as though he could single handedly take them down." replied Alice, rubbing a finger along the edge of her glass.

"Then again, there's no telling if that freak won't just rebuild Serene as something even more dangerous. You can count me in." she said at length.

"Very well. You will be grouping with Mr. Herd-"

"I believe we took to calling him Boomerang Bill." Jim chimed in.

"You will be grouping in Ukraine with Mr. Herd to assist him in recruiting Dr. Alexey Volden Junior."

"You mean, the son of the late Dr. 'Apocalypse' Volden?" Jim said, now aghast.

"The very same." Alfonzo affirmed.

"You want me to help recruit the son of a man that would have committed worldwide genocide for the sake of a forever Soviet Russia had my mentor not been authorized by Reagan and Gorbachov both to end him?" reiterated Jim before his cell phone went off. The ring tone was Iron Maiden "Run to the Hills."

"And speaking of my mentor, I have to take this." said Jim, answering the phone and stepping out of the room.

"There's a little, what would you say, animosity I sense between James and this Volden?" said Alice.

"As he stated, his mentor, who is the current covert director of the CIA, was the one who personally carried out the eventually successful assassination of former Dr. Volden Senior." said Alfonzo.

"They were desperate times, not unlike now," he continued, "yet still saturated of situations where split decisions decided the fate of entire countries, and in some cases the world. Dr. Alexey Volden was a Soviet chemist that made many breakthroughs in scientific studies involving chemical breakdowns. His first notable work was a potential cure for cancer. However, he became a very desperate man when the USSR was on the verge of collapse and the threat of the West became all the more vocal in President Reagan, God rest his soul."

"Isn't it enough that the man is dead?" said Alice, with a judging eye toward the direction of Jim. Alfonzo sighed, staring at the wine bottle, thinking how best to explain.

"For some, their scarred emotions cause them to view these times as being no less desperate than the times passed. Volden Senior came to find out that even Gorbachev marked him for death. In the true desperation of the man betrayed by his own ruler, he took matters in his own hands. And after discovering who it was that would take his life, Volden Senior sent a dose of his chemical deviance to the very door of the man's family. The intended result was for James' mentor, Mr. Bergeron to reconsider following through with his orders. He was en route, and was uninformed of the incident until after he had seen Volden breath his last."

"Naturally, the son has to carry on the legacy of the father."

"In truth, there is no telling how much of that legacy carries on with Volden Junior." said Alfonzo.

"That seems rather, eh, presumptuous to think that he would carry the same views as his father. No matter the personal vendetta. Unless his devotion to preserving his country as he saw it was a genetic condition, I see no reason to harbor such resentment for someone who happens to be his son." argued Alice.

"It is not officially known whether Volden Junior is of the same mindset of his father. What is known is that he inherited the studies of his father by the will left behind by Volden Senior. That, and now he has the same qualifications his father did before he died." Alfonzo said, changing tone. "There is hope in the fact that he is in Ukraine, not Russia. And from what Mr. Herd reports, he is not affiliated with the Russia. What he could provide is a way to deal with Victory, taking care of one side of this conflict to make more room to consider how to deal with the other."

"I hate to cut and run, but duty calls in Mother USA." said Jim, entering the room once more.

"Perhaps it's for the best?" Alice insisted insouciantly.

"Yeah, well. I'll be missing you too, sweetheart." replied Jim with the same nonchalance. He then walked closer to Alice with one more thing to say. "By the way, your English is fantastic. And my head is fine now."

"I'll be expecting a written report of your findings in Okinawa." Alfonzo mentioned as Jim made his way out the door.

"I'll have plenty of time to finish it on my flight-by plane this time- back to America." Jim said over his shoulder. He stopped and turned for a moment more. "You may want to debrief her on that as well, since she's that Japanese stow away who conked me out before I could get much more than what I gave you already."

Well after leaving, the Dutchman returned to the room with a bottle of bourbon in one hand and a box of cigars in the other. He was quite heartbroken to find that Jim had left without partaking.

"So, how did you become the leader of E50?" Alice asked Alfonzo.

"It was Mr. Colin Powell who endorsed me as director of the task force. He was even the one who suggested the name. He had turned down being director himself after he started taking more publicized roles for American world policy." 

Book One.Chapter 5

-Chapter 5

"I was hoping one day I would see something like this." said Jim as he admired the ancient piece of fine architecture. "Too bad the day I got to see the Acropolis of Athens had to be the same day I challenged the one and only guy in all history with the guts to declare open war on America."

"Taliban, nor ISIS count?" jived Frank.

"Kidnapping unarmed civilians and beheading them on video isn't the same thing. That's all the makings of a coward; having no other way to make a statement than the destruction of innocence. Even then, those guys only want to fearfully spread their otherwise insignificant religion." said Jim, gazing at their target from afar through binoculars.

"Some would argue against that. Especially the insignificance part." said Frank.

"Well, anyway. This guy doesn't have anything to prove, nor is he doing this for the hell of it. He just wants to crush the biggest somebody he can... and I don't blame him." concluded Jim.

With a short flash, Alice appeared beside them. Her disguise was a simple, flowing purple gown.

"Now I can disrupt all the news equipment. We're ready to follow through with the plan at any moment." she informed the other two.

Jim hesitated before he clicked a radio.

"What's the word in the sky?"

"Okay, yes!" came the Dutchman's reply over the radio. To everyone's surprise,  the words "Smokey dokey!" could be seen in a vapor trail above them.

"How does he even do that?" said Alice.

"You're asking us?" said Jim. He then pressed against the device in his ear. "We have a visual. Do we have the green light, Card'nal?"

Alfonzo let out an affirmative. Crowds had gathered in front of the Acropolis as the infamous Victory was about to give another press conference; one that E50 was going to crash. The human tank stepped up to the platform, and the games began. Alice shorted all the cameras. Frank handed a loud speaker to Jim and the interpreter next to him.

"Mr. Victory! On behalf of the United Nations, you stand accused of declaring war on another country without representing a national government. The Grecian government has denied any affiliation with you, therefore you are asked to surrender peacefully at once." Jim then said, along with the interpreter following in Greek. Halfway, the man tank boomed

"I understand plain English, American fool!"

"Then you know what I'm demanding, on behalf of the United Nations?" Jim insisted.

"I know that you must come from America. You will know that Victory surrenders to no one." the man tank insisted right back.

The crowds had grown silent, gazing toward the seemingly lone E50 agent. The news crews were frantically trying to repair their equipment or find spares. Then with a sizable thud from each step made, Victory made his way toward Jim. The crowd split and began to flee in all directions.

"Saves the trouble of telling them to bug off myself." said Jim before he spoke through the loud speaker once more. "Since you do not comply, I have no choice but to take you in. No hard feelins!"

Jim then dropped the loudspeaker, then unsheathed his sword and pistol. Aiming for a limb, he squeezed off a shot which looked as though it hit the tank in the arm. There was no sign of an entry wound. Aiming center mass, he squeezed off two more shots that definitely made their target. The problem was this target was clearly unaffected in anyway by bullets. Victory kept on his path, not phased in the slightest. His feet kept making a rhythmic thump, like a war drum beating ever so slowly. Taking a breath, Jim holstered the gun then brandished his sword. He gave it two swipes in the air, and what followed was a blast of fire then wind. Still, the tank was unmoved. Lifting the sword, Jim let it flare with electricity that he then launched full force at Victory. The lightning bolt grazed the side of his chest, momentarily making him stumble... yet, the tank kept moving forward. Jim motioned with the sword, but this time Victory slammed a massive hand against the ground which was with enough force to cause a fissure to open up right beneath Jim. Another smack of the ground caused stone and dirt to bury Jim up to the torso.

"You wanna see what my sword of elements can do, eh?" said Jim. He swished his sword upwards just before Victory could lay his hands on him. A jut of stone shot up, launching Jim in the air, remaining like a structural column. As he came down, Jim swiped the sword through the air further conjuring the spiritual forces behind the blade to cause the column and the ground around it to melt into magma.

"Try getting outta that!" Jim mocked as he swiped once more to send a crash of water at the magma. It steamed and then froze in place, leaving Victory stone cold in the ground.

Jim clicked in on the intercom to Alfonzo.

"Almost gave me a scare when not a single bullet did more than bounce off the guy's skin. You can send in the detaining crew. He shouldn't-"

He was interrupted by the sound of breaking rock and flying rubble. The tank was free.

"E50, be on alert. A squad of Serene corp drones are heading inbound. ETA thirty seconds." Said Alfonzo through the emergency channel.

"I might not have that long." Jim said, swinging his sword to and for to try and put as much earth between him and Victory as possible. Each upheaval was batted away by arms like wrecking balls. The glowing white eyes and shimmering golden olive branch crown came ever closer. Then Jim noticed he was pinned down against the edge of the outcropping on which the Acropolis sat upon. Frank came out of no where to shove Jim out of the way of the battering rams that were Victory's fists came down. Jim watched in horror as Frank took the blow instead. The dust and rocks flew up before anything could be seen of the fresh and now late team member. It was likely a good thing, figured Jim, as he hardly liked to see the many ways E50 agents had met their disfiguring, dismembering demise. A good sized chunk of rock fell down the man hewn cliff. Jim wasted no time, taking off as fast as his feet could manage. He clicked on the radio to get the attention of the Flying Dutchman.

"Frank is down! I repeat, Frank is down. We're done here. Everyone fall back and regroup at Rome base." said Jim. The Dutchman immediately picked him up for another trip. This time, Jim was able to keep himself from crashing. He wished he had though, as the Dutchman sang some song in his native tongue that was just too happy-go-lucky to fit into the situation. Alice once again took advantage of the nearest 4G device and sped along the digital pathways toward the E50 base hidden in Rome, Italy. 

This secret headquarters was one of the many worldwide owned by Dr. Alfonzo, used for the worldwide purposes that his E50 did their best to accommodate. It was built below an ancient church, and had one annoying similarity to every other property owned by Dr. Alfonzo; emphasis on the color blue in just about everything. Alfonzo was waiting in the situation room, seated and strangely content. Jim burst in, followed by the other survivors. Jim threw his harness to the ground, punched a dent in a wall then stood across from Alfonzo with his arms supporting his weight on the oval table, tinted with a faint blue stain.

"Got anything stiff to drink?" Jim asked at length.

"There is some old sacramental wine in the back, if that counts as anything. It will not help the situation any, however." answered Alfonzo.

Jim slammed a fist on the table.

"The hell it would hurt any, either. What with Ben Frank biting the dust like he did!"

"What on earth are you talking about?" said Alfonzo.

"Don't play games with me, Card'nal! I saw it with my own eyes. I called it in myself! The kid is gone. He managed to save my behind in the process, but fat a lot of good it did for him. Good god, man!"

Alfonzo pressed a button, illuminating a screen behind him. On the screen was seen Frank's face, living. Breathing. And he had not a scratch on him at all.

"What kind of smoke and mirrors is this BS?" said Jim.

"You were right, Agent Fly. Dr. Alfonzo hasn't shown me any of his tricks yet. But he was well aware of my particular one, which is why he hired me on E50. With that and the fact that you call him cardinal, among other things, it leads me to believe that Dr. Alfonzo has at least some connection to the Blue Cardinal. I would almost think he was the very man himself." Frank went on to say.

"Almost?" posed Alfonzo.

"Except for the fact that within my circle back at home, I've only known the Blue Cardinal as a myth from nearly half a millennium ago." continued Frank.

"Not everything is as it seems." said Jim with a smile as if to say the joke makes so much sense now.

"I couldn't agree more. My trick I admit is not as flashy as using a sword to control elements at will. I still get by the sticky situations by disappearing in a vapor when needed... Literally." Frank said, giving a demonstration of how he can magically turn himself into mist and back before saying the word literally. "It took me a while to pull myself together, but I made it out well enough for that Victory guy to be none the wiser."

"I owe you a million, Ben Frank." said Jim, not at all forgetting who saved who.

"And more than that. I'm staying behind to keep a close eye on our new friend here. In the mean time, I'll let you know that Rogers isn't my real last name either. It's Franklin Nieminen. Back home they had a nickname for me. The Gatherer. As hard as it is to hit me, it's even harder to keep me out of places, making it easy for me to, well, gather things about people."

"Are you from Finland?" asked Alice, hard pressed to stay out of the conversation much longer.

"Where ever he's from, I think you may have found a keeper there, Card'nal." said Jim, to allow refocusing of the conversation.

"Right, right. As we are now all present, let us hear what became of those drones, Franklin."

Meanwhile, in the Oval Office, which only sounded crowded, a troubled old man sits at the table flanked on both sides by computer monitors with the faces of many other older men and women. Some were in suits, while others wore a uniform of some sort. One of the uniforms in particular was that of a five star general. Being among the first to wear five stars since the Second World War, his input was needed on a very touchy subject.

"So not a thing we threw at one man from those drones, designed to give the front lines of a whole army a thing or two, could stop him? This is one man, gentleman. How is it he is still standing, now not much more than twenty four hours after he threatened my office--my very home for the next three years? Your country, mind you?"

"It is an anomaly, at best, Mr. President. The report given me leads me to believe that this one man possibly has some form of technology, not completely unlike some of what Serene Corporation has come up with. With this technology he must be able to deflect fire as well as give this Mr. Victory his vastly heightened combat ability." said the general.

"I've read this report. It says that a man in a toga withstood direct fire from machine guns, missiles, and small grade nuclear bombs that our brand new Serene Corp drones carry. Now tell me what in God's name kind of technology does a thing like that? And are we prepared to repel this threat, if not give a proper preemptive strike against it?"