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

by John McGregor

It has been two years since The Beasts of Lakeside, and the small Vermont city has gotten back to its daily routine. In fact, one of the survivors of the past incident, Deborah Minh, has begun her campaign for Governor. As the summer primary approaches, her approval rating is on the rise. However, ex-Cobra Agent, the Baroness, has returned to the small state with plans of her ow

G.I. Joe: Agent Blue Jaye and the Baroness's Last Stand

By John McGregor

Dedication

This one is for my old roommate, friend, and brother in life, Roy. I think of you constantly and will one day see you on the other side. Rest in peace my friend, this story is for you.

Abstract

It has been two years since The Beasts of Lakeside, and the small Vermont city has gotten back to its daily routine. In fact, one of the survivors of the past incident, Deborah Minh, has begun her campaign for Governor. As the summer primary approaches, her approval rating is on the rise. However, ex-Cobra Agent, the Baroness, has returned to the small state with plans of her own. The only thing that stands in her way is Agent Blue Jaye and a team of old and new Joes, unaware of what she has in store.

Part 1: Infiltration

Chapter 1

Danamora Prison sat nestled next to a forest of shadbush and pines, deep in upstate New York. The sun had set below the tree line and the scorching heat subsided as the day faded to evening. The muggy air sat still, marinating the prisoners in a thin lather of sweat.

Eddie Langstrom sat on his mattress, casually bouncing a rubber ball off the cement wall in front of him. The expression on Eddie's face was calm, and he was trying his best to relax amid the oppressing heat. Beads of sweat dripped from the back of his neck making a small slapping sound as they landed on his mattress.

Eddie shifted in his seat making the rusted metal coils of his box spring creak. His cell was the last in a line of twelve empty cages. As the echoes of the rubber ball reverberated around the cement box around him, Eddie pondered a question that had tortured him since he first came to Danamora. Why was he kept away from the other prisoners?

When he first arrived, Eddie thought that his solitude reflected the "heinous nature of the crime he had committed," he recalled the judge stating. Trying to blow up the Hoover Dam in an act of terrorism will get you some notoriety, Eddie thought, chuckling to himself. At first, he reveled being the only inmate in his block, and his initial years at the prison were spent in pride.

He made sure to keep in shape, knowing that his Commander would soon call on him and release him from his cage. It wasn't his fault that the mission failed. After diving and setting the charges, his remote detonator malfunctioned. Even though he dove back to set the charge manually, he was captured before he could complete his mission.

All throughout his interrogations and trials he never gave up any information about Cobra or his Commander. Eddie truly believed that his loyalty would one day be rewarded. He just needed to do his time and he would be called on again.

But as the days churned on, Eddie's faith began to deteriorate. One year turned to three, then five, then ten. The rescue that Eddie had anticipated seemed less and less likely. Feelings of abandonment and betrayal began to seep into the deep recesses of his thoughts. It was then that Eddie started to realize the truth. No one was coming for him.

It was on the eve of his eleventh year of incarceration that he decided to make the only play he could think of. He would try to make a deal and reveal the information he had about his Commander. During lunch that day, he told one of the guards that he wanted to speak to the warden. When asked why, Eddie simply stated "I'm ready to make a deal."

Sitting on his sweat stained mattress nine years later, Eddie clearly remembered the look of dissonance on the guards faces. After all those years, that smirk created a burning rage that smoldered deep in Eddie's stomach.

He closed his eyes as he recalled what happened next. Taking him off guard, one of the guards took the chair next to him and slammed it into his face, knocking him down. The guard then brought it on him again and again. The whole ordeal put Eddie in the infirmary for four months.

Bedridden with a broken pelvis, fractured tibia, and five broken ribs, Eddie sat in his cot when the warden came to visit one sunny afternoon. Eddie remembered how the warden casually leaned over and put a gentle palm on his shoulder. With the same smirk the guards had, he whispered in his ear.

"Rest up now. The Commander wouldn't want one of his prized possessions to get hurt, or worse." The warden said, before turning and walking out of the sickbay.

As the years continued to tally, Eddie started to ask himself why was he still in prison? Did his Commander see him as a failure? A waste? Was anyone ever going to come for him? Or was he doomed to rot for the rest of his life?

He ran through the never-ending list of questions as he continued to bounce the rubber ball off his cell wall. Then, a distant banging made Eddie pause. He caught the ball in his hand, straining to hear. The clanging continued, and Eddie realized that the main cellblock door was unlocking. Soon, the sound of wet metal hinges creaked loudly as the entryway swung open.

Sitting up, Eddie raced through his recent memories trying to remember if he had done or said anything out of line. He couldn't think of anything out of the ordinary. Listening intently, Eddie focused on the footsteps as they traversed down the long hall to his cell.

The footsteps revealed a strong presence, long strides, authority. Definitely not a guard, Eddie concluded. As the footsteps got closer, Eddie noticed something different about them. When each foot hit the concrete, it landed hard, like a metal spike slamming into the floor. Did the person have a cane?

Then, Eddie's eyes widened when he recognized that the sound wasn't a cane, but a pair of heels. It was a woman. As she neared his cell, a faint fragrance of lavender filled the air. Instinctually, Eddie walked to his cell door.

He immediately recognized her. The years had turned her black hair to silver, but standing in front of him, was the Baroness, Cobra Commander's first lieutenant. While older, she stood with unwavering power glaring at him through her black framed glasses. She wore a long black leather Giovanni trench coat that fell by her matching stiletto heels. A large ruby hung from a chain around her neck. She walked to the front of his cell. Eddie took a step back. Her darkened eyes revealed nothing, and she stood for a few moments before speaking.

"Eddie Langstrom." The Baroness addressed the prisoner. Eddie stood upright.

"Affirmative." Eddie replied.

"Are you prepared to honor your commitment to Cobra?" The Baroness asked flatly.

As Eddie was preparing to respond, a feeling of deep resentment started to churn in his stomach. It had been twenty years, and after all he had sacrificed, his blood grew hot. Did they just expect me to forget the years of pain, torture, and deterioration, he asked himself? Anger took over him as he replied. After rotting in his cell, forgotten, he felt that he deserved more respect than what was being shoveled out in front of him.

"After all I have sacrificed, I won't speak to anyone but the Commander. Go tell your boss that if he needs me, he will have to come here in person." Eddie said, standing tall.

Finally, the expression on the Baroness' face changed. She pursed her lips and her eyes narrowed into a rage of targeted precision. The glare unhinged him, and he dropped his shoulders, his posture in full retreat. The Baroness leaned as close as she could to the bars, the frames of her glasses clinking off the metal.

"I am Cobra Commander." The Baroness whispered in exclamation. Then, she slowly backed away from the bars, turned around, and walked back down the hall.

Eddie waited until he heard the metal door to the cellblock shut behind her before falling to his knees, his head in his hands.

Eddie woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. He cowered in the corner of his bed, hugging his legs close to his chest. Sweating profusely, he waited until the terror faded from his consciousness. Chirps from thousands of heat bugs echoed outside the prison walls in the steamy night sky.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Eddie saw the familiar masonry of his cell walls come into focus. Sitting up, he took a deep breath and looked at the concrete in front of him. A cool breeze rushed through his cell door. Eddie sat up abruptly.

At first, Eddie thought he was still dreaming, and found himself rubbing his eyes, making sure he was truly awake. Instead of looking at the closed bars of his cell door, the door was unlocked and opened wide.

A clear stream of moonlight shown through into his cell. Another cool breeze came through the door cooling Eddie's forehead and shoulders. Standing up, Eddie carefully leaned out the open door.

He looked down the long hallway expecting to see someone, but no one was there. Stepping out, Eddie squinted his eyes and looked to the cell block door at the end of the hall. It too, appeared to be open.

Eddie slowly walked down the corridor and stopped when he got to the end. Peering through, he saw the hallway stretched to his left. Eddie continued down hallway until he reached a large iron gate. As he approached, a buzzer sounded and a light above the gate turned green before sliding apart. Eddie walked through and saw an empty guard station and another long corridor. At the end of the corridor was a door with a glowing red "Exit" sign hanging above it. When he reached the exit, Eddie turned the doorknob and walked out into the exercise yard.

Under the clear night, Eddie looked up to see millions of stars piercing through the jet-black sky. The sound of an electric generator switched on and one of the guard towers lit up. Startled, Eddie instinctually flattened himself against the chain fence surrounding the prison yard.

The spotlight on the tower ignited and swung around. Instead of shining on him, Eddie saw the light veer off to the far side of the exercise yard illuminating the silhouette of a guard holding a gym bag. The guard motioned for him to come over.

As Eddie approached him, he froze when he realized who it was. Standing in the spotlight was the same guard who had beat him with the chair nine years ago. As Eddie took a few steps closer, the guard's lips contorted into his familiar smirk. This time however, the guard did not move. He just stood grinning, holding the gym bag up, offering it Eddie.

Eddie reached out and took the bag. The guard took a step away and gestured toward an open door in the fence leading out of the prison. Eddie saw a parking lot a little farther off lit by a lone standing light. Under the light was a small sedan. Eddie turned back to look at the guard who was still smiling at him.

"Good luck." The guard said, and then walked off the other direction back toward the tower.

Eddie waited until the guard reached the prison door. A few minutes later, the spotlight extinguished leaving Eddie under the shade of natural moonlight. Looking at the gym bag, Eddie readjusted his grip and walked out of Danamora prison.

After a short walk across the field to the parking lot, Eddie approached to the car and opened the gym bag. Eddie found three $10,000 straps of $100 bills, credit cards, a Glock 19 handgun with three extra clips, an extra pair of clothes, a tactical watch, a smartphone, and a set of car keys. Taking out the car keys, Eddie clicked the unlock button and the sedan in front of him beeped.

He opened the door and tossed the gym bag in the passenger seat. As soon as he sat down, the smartphone in his bag began to vibrate. A thumbprint identification appeared on the screen. Putting his thumb on the screen, the phone unlocked, and the Baroness's face appeared, playing an automated message.

"Eddie Langstrom. Colonel and leader of the Eels 568th division. Welcome back. Your time spent in incarceration has been honored by Cobra and we thank you for your silence and patience. You have been selected for this mission because of your expertise in stealth and your success with past assassinations. To provide some background, two years ago, outside Lakeside, Vermont, an active Cobra base was uncovered and attacked. Luckily, the primary structure of the base was not detected or damaged. Your assignment is as follows..."

Eddie sat in his car and listened to the rest of the message. He then started the ignition and slowly drove out of the parking lot moving east toward Lakeside, Vermont.

Chapter 2

Two years ago.

Drill Sargent Ronald Tadur, aka Dusty stood in the empty training yard under the waving shadow of the American Flag floating in a soft breeze. Sun beamed down on the ground, covering the trampled grass in a thin layer of gold. Dusty had just concluded presiding over his final graduate class of cadets. The group of young men and women were now probably celebrating their accomplishments at the local watering hole down the road.

Chuckling to himself, Dusty sat down on one of the chairs lined up on the portable stage to the right of an empty podium. He ran his calloused fingers though his thinning hair to a growing bald spot and looked down at his weathered desert combat boots. The boots were the only piece of gear he had left from his days of active duty. Looking up at the flag, Dusty smiled briefly before focusing back down on his shoes.

After today, I retire. Dusty reminded himself, standing up and walking toward the podium. He had wanted to retire years ago, but Spirit convinced him to stay on as a drill Sargent, getting new recruits ready for their specialized assignments. With his experience in the field, as a leader, sniper, and intelligence officer, he was well equipped to train most cadets with whatever they were tasked to do. But at sixty-two, Dusty had come to terms that the sun was setting on his career with the Joes.

As he started folding the chairs, Dusty saw the familiar face of his friend and now General, Spirit, walk through the yard heading his way. Spirit wore a black cowboy hat with a beaded eagle medallion on its left side and two long eagle feathers running out the back. A green tactical vest hung around his shoulders and a large bowie knife was strapped to his side. The General walked up to Dusty and started helping him fold chairs.

"So, how does it feel training your last set of recruits?" Spirit asked, stacking a chair on a rolling cart next to the stage.

"A little strange to tell you the truth. But I guess it's time to head down to Galveston and meet up with Roadblock and open that BBQ shack we've been talking about…" Dusty trailed off as he stacked another chair onto the cart. Spirit stood staring, slowly nodding as Dusty continued.

"But, now that the recruits are done, it doesn't feel quite right. I don't know." Dusty stopped again and looked at his boots before going on.

"It wasn't like this set of cadets were any different, it's just when they graduated, I thought there would be a sense of closure. Now, it just feels empty." Dusty stated.

He looked up at Spirit who walked up to his friend and rested his hand gently on his shoulder. In his deep soothing tone, he spoke.

"I might be able to help you. But it would mean training one more recruit." Spirit stated. Dusty cocked his head curiously.

"Just one recruit? Is he a new covert op or someone reserved for heavy combat?" Dusty asked.

"No, nothing like that. She just needs to get into shape. Real good shape. Plus, she needs to learn how to use this." Spirit stated motioning to a long canvas case resting on one of the chairs.

Dusty walked over to the case and opened it. Staring back at him was Spirit's war bow, Sparrow Hawk. Dusty turned back to Spirit, his mouth open in shock.

"You want me to train her to use Sparrow Hawk? Personally, I would think you would be better equipped for that job." Dusty replied, a bit confused.

"No, you misunderstand. I just need you to get her in shape and comfortable firing a bow. You can use one of your training bows for now. When she is ready, I will transfer her to Tommy to complete the rest of her training." Spirit stated.

"Storm Shadow? What makes you think he will train her? Are you even on good terms with him, or know where he is?" Dusty asked, curious as to what Spirit was up to.

"He owes me a favor. Don't worry about that. But listen, this recruit, she is right out of college, green, trained for intelligence only really. Just get her strong enough to fire Sparrow Hawk. Tommy will then work on her confidence." Spirit said and folded his hands over his chest.

Dusty stood looking confused, scratching the bald spot on the back of his head.

"Who is she?" Dusty finally asked.

"She's the new Jaye." Spirit replied, turning and gesturing back to where he had come.

Dusty looked past Spirit and saw a young woman now standing at the base of the flagpole. The sun reflected off her blue hair which was tied in a bun on top of her head. As Spirit said, she looked young, right out of college. She wore a tan leather jacket, grey tank top, and a pair of loose-fitting blue jeans. A green duffle bag rested by her sneakers. Spirit motioned to her to come over. She picked up her bag and hustled their way Spirit turned back to Dusty.

"One more thing. She is extremely tough and resilient, but she recently went through a traumatic experience that left her best friend paralyzed." Spirit paused before continuing.

"I arranged for her friend to undergo experimental surgery back at our Maryland base. It will drastically improve her mobility. She too is being groomed for the team as a Communications Officer however, your cadet must not know about this. It is essential to both their training and my plans that they remain unaware they are being trained as Joes. Is that understood?" Spirit asked.

"Crystal clear." Dusty replied as the young woman with blue hair approached them. Spirit stood by her side.

"Drill Sargent Dusty, I would like to introduce you to our newest recruit, Agent Blue Jaye." Spirit stated.

The young woman brushed a few strands of blue hair from her face and held out her hand. Spirit and Dusty looked at her without flinching. Confused, the young woman finally realized where she was and quickly stood up straight and saluted Dusty and Spirit.

"Agent Blue Jaye, reporting for training." Blue Jaye shouted, looking back and forth between Dusty and Spirit hoping she was doing the right thing. Both men stood straight and returned the salute.

"At ease soldier." Spirit said, and Blue Jaye's shoulders relaxed.

Dusty looked at her curiously. Turning back to Spirit, Dusty gave a nod of approval. Spirit smiled in reply. Swiftly, he patted Blue Jaye on the shoulder and walked out of the yard.

Not less than ten minutes prior, Dusty was looking for a reason not to retire. Now, his last cadet was standing awkwardly in front of him, not knowing what to do or say. She seemed to be in somewhat decent shape, and she was young which was good. Dusty wondered what did the General saw in her. Spirit was in charge for a reason, and if he had chosen her, then Dusty knew there was something special about her.

"So…what do we do now?" Blue Jaye asked. Her posture had begun to close in on herself.

"I will show you to your bunk. You are the only cadet, so it will just be you and me for the next three months. I live in those quarters at the far end of the yard." Dusty pointed across the field to his small house.

"Dinner is at 1800 sharp. We begin training tomorrow at 0600 right here in the yard." Dusty looked at Blue Jaye intently scanning her face for her reaction. She stood silent, nodding as she listened to his instructions.

"Affirmative Dusty, Sir." She stated, and then gave a firm salute and a warm smile before grabbing her duffle bag and happily walking off to her barracks.

Dusty stood watching her, still scratching his head. What did Spirit see in her? He asked himself. Regardless, it was his job to get her into Joe shape, and that was exactly what he intended to do.

Now.

Blue Jaye stood trying to get her breath as she looked down at the three kettle bells in front of her. One was fifty pounds, the next was forty, and the last was thirty. Picking up the fifty pounder she dropped into a squat and then heaved it up to rest on her shoulder before pushing her legs up and thrusting the weight high above her head. She repeated this five more times before switching the kettle bell to the other hand. Setting down the first weight, she then picked up the forty-pound bell, swinging it through her legs high above her head and back down again. She repeated the swings eleven more times before moving on to the thirty-pound weight. After twelve goblin squats with the thirty pounder, she took a ninety second rest before starting all over again.

This is how she had started each morning for the past two years. Sweat dripped from Blue Jaye's chin as she heaved the kettle bell onto her shoulder for another clean-and-press. Dusty worked her hard, but after all her workouts, her body had gone through a physical metamorphosis. She was sleeping better, and in the mirror each morning, she saw more definition in her shoulders, abs, and biceps.

After the kettle bells, Dusty moved her to the bench press. She had been able to work herself up to 130 pounds with the bar, pressing for eight to ten reps. Then, she would grab two twenty-pound kettle bells and do fifteen step-ups on each leg before finishing with twelve shoulder presses, fifty pounds on each arm. Dusty would work her through five sets of those and then they would do weighted rows, lat pull-downs, and push-ups. Each day, Dusty would switch up their routine, keeping her challenged and fresh. She did jump squats, oblique twists, land mines, bear crawls, weighted lunges, side planks, leg presses, and dead lifts.

At the end of each morning they would conclude with a half hour of stretching and a large lunch Dusty would cook himself. Surprising to Blue Jaye, Dusty was an excellent cook and she always looked forward to his meals. Feta salad with a spinach stew, braised BBQ chicken with kimchi dressing, ground lamb samosas with baby tomatoes and olive oil, were just some of the meals he would prepare. They helped keep her strength and confidence up.

After lunch, she would take another half hour to stretch before setting out on a five-mile run through the forest by the training complex. It was during these runs that Blue Jaye would think back on her time in college, and the tragedy that left her best friend Elise, paralyzed. As she looked up into the forest ceiling and the tips of the waving branches, Blue Jaye wondered where Elise was and what she was doing. Two years ago when she left for training, Elise was fighting through a dark depression. Blue Jaye knew that Elise was able to get into a rehabilitation program outside of Maryland, and she was happy for her, but she still had not been able to reach out and connect with her. As Blue Jaye ran, she looked down at her own legs as they powered through the forest and grew remorseful that her friend was paralyzed and would never be able to do the same.

After her run, Dusty would bring her into a large steel hangar that resided on the north side of the training complex. Inside was an obstacle course of sorts, complete with six wooden buildings and a street in the middle, littered with cement blocks and oil drums. As you progressed through the course, wooden cut outs of bad guys and victims would swing out of the doors and windows. Soldiers would work their way through the training course, their goal to take out the enemy and save the innocents.

Dusty would give Blue Jaye a bow and quiver of steel tipped arrows and have her work through. Since beginning, Blue Jaye struggled shooting the bow and arrow. She was trained as a journalist in college. Finding information was her strength, not firing a weapon. She only joined the Joes because Spirit told her she would still be able to investigate, write, and report. She was never into guns or fighting so getting used to shooting anything was difficult.

Working through the course, she sometimes connected with the targets, but the tips of the arrows would always bounce off. Even though she had built muscle in her arms, it never seemed to show up. It was like after her runs, reflecting on where she was, and how far away she was from her friend Elise, she was completely drained.

Through her struggles and failures, Dusty stayed by and continued to encourage her and provide tips. He would model how to pull back on the bow, how to shift her weight. After his lessons, she would improve for a few shots, but then everything would revert back. Still, Dusty persisted in doing everything he could to keep her positive. Blue Jaye understood he was simply searching for anything that could help. She realized that he too, was just as lost as she was.

That evening, Blue Jaye sat dejected at the dinner table. Dusty placed a steaming hot bowl of ramen in front of her. Traditionally cooked, Blue Jaye looked down at the noodles, eggs, and pork resting in hot broth. Thick sensuous aromas greeted her from the bowl and Blue Jaye instantly thought back to her college days cooking cheap bags of noodles with Elise in their small apartment kitchen. Emotion suddenly took over and she began sobbing uncontrollably at the table. Mortified, she tried to stop, covering her head in her hands, but the tears came through, nonetheless. All of her remorse for her friend, feeling she abandoned her, compiled with exhaustion from training and failing at the shooting range poured out.

She looked up to Dusty shaking in sobs, trying to tell him she was sorry. Dusty sat without speaking and looked at her empathetically. Something in his eyes told her he knew exactly what she was feeling. He waited a few minutes until she calmed down before speaking softly.

"Have you ever heard of a place called Benzheen?" He asked.

"Yes." Blue Jaye replied as she wiped her eyes. The question took her off guard. "Back in 1991, it was invaded by a group of Abysmian insurgents. The US offered assistance, but the Emir chose a rebel faction for his defense. After the rebels turned on the Emir, he made an agreement with the US to drive out the rebel force." Blue Jaye stated.

Dusty looked at her impressed. She might be young he thought, be she knows her history.

"Correct. However, the group of rebels were actually Cobra forces." Dusty stated.

"Cobra? Really?" Blue Jay asked, finally picking up her chopsticks to eat.

"Yes, I was there." Dusty replied looking back at Blue Jaye.

"After Cobra took over, we sent two Joe teams to mount a counter offensive. Our orders were to create a diversion so the other team could sneak in undetected. It worked, but as our team moved deep into the capital city, we were ambushed by a Cobra cell." Dusty paused and grimaced, looking down at his boots.

"I was on point with one of my best friends and teammates, Sneak Peak. When the Cobra rebels hit us, we found ourselves cut of and trapped from the rest of the team. We were about to engage the enemy when a child ran out into the firefight." Dusty closed his eyes and cleared his throat. "Instinctually, Sneak Peak ran to help the boy, but it turned out to be another trap."

Dusty coughed and took a few deep breaths before continuing. Blue Jaye sat back, taking everything in and giving Dusty a moment. Her shoulders were now relaxed, and she looked at her drill instructor with a shared empathy and sadness.

"The Cobra force that pinned us down used the kid as bait. Sneak Peak was shot badly. I was able to carry him out of the city but he died along the way. Still, I had to bring him back." Dusty turned and looked at Blue Jaye through a pair of watery eyes. "I promised his mother I would bring him back regardless of what happened to him." Dusty finished. Blue Jaye sniffled and wiped her forearms across her face.

"I'm sorry. I almost lost my best in an accident. She got paralyzed from the waist down." Blue Jaye replied.

"Sprit told me. I'm sorry…" Dusty trailed off, still in his memory.

Blue Jaye quickly wiped her face again and took a deep breath, feeling surprisingly confident. She smiled at Dusty and stood up tall.

"See you at 0600 tomorrow?" She asked, smiling wide at Dusty. Dusty nodded.

"0600." He confirmed.

Blue Jaye quickly finished her bowl and left the mess hall. Instead of heading to the barracks, she walked to the hangar with her bow and quiver strewn over her shoulder. Flipping on the power switch, the makeshift range lit up. Blue Jaye removed her bow and strung an arrow. She then set the timer on her watch, and began racing down the range, scanning back and forth. As she reached the first structure, a wooden cutout of a thug holding a woman hostage popped out one of the windows. Without hesitating, Blue Jaye drew back on the bow, aimed and fired. The steel tipped arrow shot through the wooden cut out right in the bad guy's chest, its shaft sticking out of the wood. Blue Jaye then strung another arrow and continued through the course.

Chapter 3

The onyx Rolls Royce Wraith barreled up the Vermont interstate as the highway ascended into the Green Mountains. The sleek black luxury automobile glistened as it wove between the lush valleys. Two colossal grey and white thunderheads floated across the pale blue sky. The summer was in its last weeks of July and the emerald and olive forests were dense and abundant.

The Baroness sat in the stately cockpit of the vehicle, her right black stiletto gently pressing down on the accelerator as the highway rose up high ahead of her. She reached over to the dashboard and pressed a button that activated a sliding wood panel revealing a multimedia display.

"Colonel Langstrom." The Baroness requested aloud.

The monitor flashed as it processed the command. After a short click, the screen displayed a spectrum waveform readout as the Colonel responded.

"Commander." The Colonel's static voice crackled over the receiver. "I have just arrived and am currently setting up. I should be ready within the hour."

Satisfied with the update, the Baroness ended the call. The Colonel should have a major piece of her operation up and running by nightfall. At the same time, she would arrive at her destination to conduct an initial surveillance of the primary target.

The Wraith roared into the mountains past a caravan of cars and SUVs full of families on vacation. The Baroness noticed multiple passengers gawking as her luxury car tore by. The interstate wove around the mountainside and the vista revealed a long line of wind turbines cut into the valleys. Each turbine was equipped with three large propeller blades spinning rapidly as the warm summer breeze swept across the valley.

The Baroness found herself staring at the group of windmills. The methodic spinning of the blades distracted her and she eased off the accelerator, her mind drifting to a memory from a distant past.

Twenty years ago

The Baroness hoisted herself out of the small hatch of the top of the wind turbine, perched high on the mountain face of Sugar Peak Mountain, just outside Lakeside, Vermont. The wind whipped her long jet-black hair back and forth as she stood on the small platform. Latching a security harness to her belt, the Baroness took a few steps out to take in the view between the massive propellers. Looking out at the mountains, the Baroness admired the vibrant valley and how the sunlight landed brilliantly on the vista.

"Amazing view isn't it?" James McCullen, Destro XXIV, asked as he rose up the hatch behind her.

His face was just as she remembered it. Young, strong, with high chiseled cheekbones, a stoic brow, and golden hair. He smiled as he attached his harness and walked out to meet her. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her close.

She could feel his warm breath glance off the back of her neck. Unhinged, she relaxed into his grip as they admired the rolling green mountains. A wind rushed around them as they stood atop the massive windmill.

"What does power mean to you?" Destro asked as he gently readjusted his grip around her waist. The Baroness tilted her head towards his, their cheeks rubbing closely together.

"Power is influence of course." The Baroness replied, gently kissing his cheek.

"Correct." Destro chuckled, his thick Scottish accent annunciating each of his soft laughs. "And how do you gain power?" He asked.

The Baroness lovingly took a small step away from him, wondering why he was patronizing her with elementary questions. Destro returned a seasoned grin, as if he had a secret to share. Intrigued as always, the Baroness decided to play along.

"Power is gained through influence, either socially, politically, monetarily, and or philanthropically. However, it really doesn't matter. Once you have the influence you desire, you exert it to shape your ultimate vision, whatever that may be." The Baroness replied. Destro continued to smile, slowly nodding his head.

"And to what extent is one's ability to harness power?" Destro asked. His smile now widened exposing his teeth. She knew he was close to making his point.

"To the extent of the individual, of course." The Baroness responded, keeping him at arms bay.

"Yes, but is there a limit to that extent? Is there a maximum on how much influence and power someone can achieve?" He asked.

Destro's gaze shifted out toward the scenic vista, his mind and brain racing farther and farther away. Seeing him begin to drift, the Baroness gave him a flirtatious jab in the lower ribs. His attention quickly returned, and he moved his arm around her waist.

"So, what is your limit?" She asked, allowing him to pull her close. "Do you have one?"

"I do." He replied as he leaned in and kissed her deeply. A strong gust of wind blew around them as they embraced. He released his grip to continue. "My limit is yours. I will harness and command the power of raw nature if that is what you desire."

"As long as we do it together, that is all that matters to me." The Baroness said, this time taking Destro into her own arms. After another embrace, she released him, giving him a sardonic smile.

"So, are you going to tell me why you brought me all the way up here?" The Baroness asked, hands on her hips, growing a little impatient standing over three hundred feet off the ground.

"Why my dear Baroness." Destro paused as an impish grin expanded across his face. "I already have."

Now.

The memory faded as the Baroness sped past the line of wind turbines. She downshifted as the highway twisted into the deep valley. As her hand rested on the gearshift, the Baroness noticed the light wrinkles on her fingers and reminisced of the decades that had passed since her last visit. Her once black hair now reflected a glistening silver in the rearview mirror.

She looked briefly at the empty passenger seat and could not stop the sadness as it rose up in her stomach. While the Baroness was one of the most influential beings on the planet, she was alone. Even with all the power she could imagine at her fingertips, when Destro died, it tore a hole deep inside her that she would never be able to fill. Instinctually, the Baroness reached for the ruby that hung around her neck.

"This one's for you, Culley." She whispered, and then pressed down on the accelerator as the onyx Rolls Royce Wraith thundered down the road, racing by a road sign that read, Lakeside 20 Miles.

Chapter 4

Eddie Langstrom drove past the town line of St. Joes, forty minutes north of Lakeside, Vermont. The moon was half full, casting a soft glow down on the trees and valleys. The summer air was thick and idled on the small rural town. The road curved around Pike River which snaked its way through the town, once the main power source for an old copper mine that was shuttered and abandoned ages ago.

Eddie turned off the main road onto a dirt drive. After another three miles, he pulled the car over and stepped out. Taking out his phone, Eddie swiped to an app that displayed a digital schematic of the surrounding area. The topical readout indicated there were a series of tunnels below where he was standing. They appeared to be mine shafts. From the Baroness's report, Cobra had come to the area almost forty years ago and built a base in the old caves and copper mines. Two years ago, a group of G.I. Joes found a portion of the base which they destroyed. Swiping to another app on his phone, Eddie scrolled down until he found a set of coordinates. He tapped the screen loading another digital schematic. The view on the phone displayed a small fishing hole cut into a cove by the river about a mile and a half away. The schematic then began outlining the route which ran through the forest. Locking the car, Eddie grabbed his gear from the trunk and headed into the woods.

Eddie looked up high into the swaying branches into the clear night sky. A warm breeze shuddered the trees as they swayed left to right. He could make out the brilliant starlight stretching out above him and for the first time in decades, he was breathing fresh air.

The Pike river cut deep into the forest wall of the valley carving small inlets and coves. Eddie picked up his pace as he heard the rushing bubbling of the river. The tree line disappeared into a small clearing and Eddie saw the glistening moonlight flash on the crests of the rushing water below him.

Eddie walked a few yards downstream and arrived at coordinates the Baroness provided him. The small inlet was partially hidden behind a large mossy boulder and a fallen oak tree. The tree's branches blocked part of the entrance like a natural fence. Climbing around the large limbs, Eddie hopped down on the sandy beach of the small cove.

Crouching down on a stretch of wet sandy riverbed, Eddie and took off his backpack. Removing his phone, he swiped the screen and clicked on the app generating a schematic readout of his surroundings. Soon, a thermal and topographical map appeared in front of him. He scanned the surface of the pool. The fishing hole was carved into the earth like a large cylinder, straight down. The readout on his phone indicated the pool was approximately forty feet deep. Fallen boulders and sediment made up the bottom, and Eddie watched his phone displayed a small opening at the bottom of the hole.

There's an entrance to a cave down there, Eddie realized. The adrenaline pumped through his veins as Eddie reached into his pack and removed his wetsuit and scuba gear. After a few moments and a large splash, Eddie was swimming down into the dark waters below.

The natural moonlight from the surface of the water quickly disappeared into blackness. Switching on his headlight, a massive bass casually floated below him. Reaching the boulders that lay on the bottom, Eddie moved around them until he reached the opening to the cave.

Floating face-to-face with the small black hole, Eddie hesitated a moment. He had plenty of oxygen in his tank but had no idea of where the cave led to. Thinking to himself, he wondered if it would go on for an extended distance, or if the cave would branch out into multiple caverns. The map on his phone gave no indication of where it went.

Without any options other than aborting, Eddie removed a waterproof torch from his belt and turned it on. With a flash, the entrance to the cave lit up in the murky waters. The walls around the entrance were reinforced with metal scaffolding.

Eddie swam into the cave and found that it ascended into another chamber. As he swam up, Eddie emerged in a moon pool that sat in an empty room. Eddie's headlamp shown on the walls revealing natural earth, coupled with more reinforced steel beams. There was a large clock on one wall. Below the clock was a large old-fashioned chalk board, with the remnants of shift changes still legible. Eddie concluded wherever he was, it had been abandoned for years.

Getting out, he opened his waterproof backpack, and removed his phone bringing up a map of his surroundings. There was a door to his left that opened into a long hallway. Moving down the corridor, the map guided Eddie into a small room on the right.

Eddie held his torch steadily in front of him as he entered. As his eyes adjusted, he saw what appeared to be two large generators lying silent in the middle of the room. Behind the generators on the far wall were what appeared to be a series of meters, levers, and panels. Each panel had three buttons, green, red, and yellow.

As he walked past the generators, the phone in his hands chirped. Looking down, Eddie saw an alert that read Click for Sequence to Activate Power. Eddie pressed the alert on the screen, and a series of step-by-step instructions appeared. Scrolling through the list of instructions, Eddie reviewed each before positioning himself in front of the first lever.

Following the sequence laid out for him on his phone, Eddie carefully pulled down the lever and then pushed the red, then yellow, and then the green button. A whirl from one of the generators roared behind him as Eddie watched the giant piece of machinery stubbornly wake up from its age-old slumber. Moving to the next levers, he pulled them down and pushed the buttons following the instructions on his phone.

As soon as he was finished, two fluorescent lights which hung from the ceiling began to flash and pulsate. A thin layer of dust floated off the lights as they flickered to full illumination. Eddie also saw flashes of light coming from the hallway outside as the rest of the power in the underground bunker was restored.

Eddie's phone chirped again, and when he looked down, the digital map was leading him down the hall to another large room. Walking out into the now lit hallway, Eddie followed the path laid out for him.

The next room was large with high ceilings. The walls were made up of mostly natural rock. Turning to the wall in front of him, Eddie saw a large monitor mounted above two keyboards. To the left and right of the monitor were what looked like small cabinet drawers. The cabinets reminded Eddie of a safe deposit vault. Eddie walked over to the cabinet drawers but saw no locks or any way he could open them. Looking up at the large monitor, Eddie realized like everything else in the bunker, it seemed to have been abandoned.

Eddie's phone chirped again, and he was surprised to see his entire screen had turned red and began to rapidly pulsate in his hands. The vibration of the phone quickly stopped, and the color on the screen turned to green. There was a click, and a small USB drive popped out of the top of the smart phone. Removing the USB, Eddie held it close to his face examining it curiously. Looking down at the keyboard console, Eddie saw port and inserted the USB into the drive.

After a few moments, the large monitor began to flash and churn as it started to power up. The screen filled with static snow followed by a string of code that raced down the top to bottom before the monitor went black. A red Cobra symbol started to slowly fade onto the screen.

Eddie then heard a click, followed by a hissing noise to his left. He turned to see that one of the cabinet drawers had slid open. Cautiously, he walked to the open drawer and saw it contained a hunting rifle, one magazine that held seven shots, a scope, silencer, and two small boxes of ammo.

Pulling out the rifle, Eddie gripped the butt in his shoulder, peering through the barrel. He brought his nose down to its reinforced body and took a deep inhale, savoring the familiar smell and feel of the woodwork and metal. As he aimed at different targets around the room. The Cobra Symbol on the monitor above him disappeared and was replaced with a photograph.

Eddie lowered the rifle and looked up at the screen. The image was of an older man in a green and gray Lakeside Police uniform. He had a crew cut, broad shoulders, and his face resonated experience and determination. There was a line of text that flashed on the bottom of the screen which read, Target #1: Sherriff Douglas.

At the same time, Eddie's phone chirped again, and he looked down to see the same image and name appear. Scrolling down, Eddie saw multiple articles, reports, and files associated with the Sherriff including his daily schedule, place of residence, cruiser make and model, and a host of other information on where he could locate him.

Eddie turned off his phone and placed it in his pocket. Eddie took a deep breath and thought to himself. Assassinating a Sherriff was a risky play. It would result in a panic and put the area on high alert. Why would the Baroness want that type of exposure? He asked himself. Then it came to him.

Eddie realized that while eliminating the Sherriff would create a state of panic, it would also create chaos and confusion. Disrupting the police could leave the rest of the town vulnerable. With the police in disarray, it would enable the Baroness to infiltrate and execute with ease.

Believing he understood how all the pieces fit together, Eddie smiled wide, and returned his attention to the rifle. He would take the next few hours meticulously cleaning the gun, preparing for his first mission in over twenty years. It was a mission that Eddie had already convinced himself he would not fail.

Chapter 5

Warrant Officer Dashiell Faireborn, aka Flint, walked casually down Waterman Street on his way to meet with Sherriff Douglas in downtown Lakeside, Vermont. A mix of oaks, spruces, birch, and beech trees dotted the sidewalks on each side, providing a cool shade for pedestrians as they walked up and down the hilly road. Flint looked up into the canopy of shifting juniper, pine, and emerald, and listened to the chirps and calls of the birds.

The mid-morning sun was rising high into the clear blue sky and pierced through the leaves. The heat from sun was surprising, and Flint could feel a thick layer of humidity begin to form. Small beads of sweat glistened on his forehead and he ran his hands through his salt and pepper hair.

At sixty years old, Flint still moved with a healthy speed, strength, and vigor, but there were plenty days that parts of his body reminded him just how old he was. As Flint followed the street down to the lake, the red thatched steeple of Waterman Congregational Church towered in the foreground of the cityscape.

The 155-year-old church was designed in a gothic style with yellow stand stone. The front entrance was adorned by two asymmetric towers. The turret facing east was capped with a thatched spire soaring 114 feet in the air.

Flint walked past the front entrance and turned left toward the back side of the edifice. To his right sat an aging brownstone that housed the local youth center. A group of middle school kids raced out a side door, running past him in a blur of jumps, shouts, and laughter. Flint smiled to himself, surprised at how easily happiness had returned to his life.

Just a few years ago, he was retired and depressed, unable to shake how alone he felt. But the events that had brought him to Lakeside reminded him that he was far from alone, and that there was still much for him to do. Now semi-retired, Flint worked as a sentry for the small town, making sure that the dangers that had once threatened the serene village never returned.

His cover was that of a local fish and wildlife ranger, and over his past two years standing watch, he had found peace with himself. The quiet nights by the lake provided him the perfect opportunity to reflect and repair, and long hikes through Vermont's dense forests and mountains enabled him to reset his equilibrium and balance.

The back of the church had a small cement staircase that led down to a basement. A metal handrail followed the steps down to a small wood door. As Flint walked down the stairway, a worn painting of a boxer faded into the wall with text that read St. Nicholas's Corner.

Flint walked through the door and was greeted to a familiar smell of musk and sweat. Loud slaps echoed as boxers worked the bags in the church basement. Flint walked past a line of young fighters grunting through reps of push-ups, jump-rope, squats, and crunches. As he moved toward the back, he zig-zagged around the bags as coaches worked the kids through various mitt combos.

While the heat of the day was beginning to stifle outside, the underground gym stayed cool, even with the ongoing training. At the far end of the gym were the rings, two of them reserved for sparring and hosting local golden glove matches. Leaning on the ropes of the ring to the far left were two men Flint had become close with since arriving at Lakeside, Sherriff Douglas and Father McCabe.

Sherriff Douglas was dressed in his olive and tan uniform, shouting out instruction to one of the boxers sparring in the ring. Father McCabe, who was wearing black slacks and a black short-sleeved clergy shirt and collar was standing behind the Sherriff, slapping his left hand on the lawman's back while tugging at the rope with his other. Flint turned his attention to the fighters in the middle of the ring and saw that one was the Deputy Sherriff, Jason Smith.

Jason was the Sherriff's right-hand man and had risen the ranks since he joined the police force two years ago. Flint had met Jason years back when they both played a major role in stopping the past Cobra threat. Impressed with Jason's grit and strength, the Sherriff had offered him a job.

Both Flint and the Sherriff knew Jason would be a good police officer, but his level and effort with community outreach and involvement had been astonishing. Before Jason, the police towed a precarious line in Lakeside, with residents not quite sure if they were protectors or enforcers. After Jason arrived, he worked tirelessly to change the perception of the police as a partner of the community.

Using his youthful connections from the University, Jason was able to convince the Sherriff to sponsor local events. The Lakeside Airshow, Alternative Music Festival, Cots for Communities, and the Pulled Pork and Burger Challenge, became major events the police sponsored in the state. Soon, the Sherriff was being called by cable television networks down in Boston, DC, and Philadelphia, wanting interviews. Flint knew the Sherriff felt guilty about grandstanding on Jason's work, but Jason never saw it that way.

"We are all a part of this together." Jason would say, and Flint saw how much the Sherriff admired him.

To show his gratitude, the Sherriff took Jason under his wing and made him the youngest Deputy Sherriff in the history of Lakeside. He taught him everything he knew, from hunting in the local woods, to when he was working as a homicide detective in Boston, to his days in Vermont as Sherriff. He even shared with Jason his love for boxing, and they went to St. Nicholas's corner twice a week to work out and spar.

Sherriff Douglas and Father McCabe had met in Boston. When the Sherriff came to Lakeside, a few years later, Father McCabe took up a position at the church and they both started St. Nicholas's Corner as an outlet for the kids in the parish and community. Over the decades their efforts evolved into the youth center next door, providing a place for kids to find guidance and support.

Jason was an exceptional boxer, and Flint had seen talent in his footwork and was amazed at how Jason could predict his opponents next moves. From his own experience, Flint knew that type of knowledge was something people don't just learn, they were either born with or without it.

Flint arrived at the ring and took a spot in Jason's corner by Sherriff Douglas and Father McCabe. Jason was circling his opponent, a larger, more docile kid by the name of Samuel. While Jason was an exceptional fighter, Samuel had a much longer reach, and would wear Jason out enough to get the step or angle he needed for the knockout. With his long arms, Samuel forced Jason laterally, pinning him into the ropes and corner.

Jason went low, bobbing and weaving under his opponent, working a few jabs at the body. The way Samuel was conditioned, Jason's shots had little effect. Samuel reeled Jason in and then delivered a quick jab to the top of his forehead, sending Jason staggering back. Jason tried to regain balance with his back-right foot.

"Dig, dig, dig!" The Sherriff shouted. "Back off, hands up!"

"Keep stepping, keep moving Jason!" Father McCabe added to the Sherriff's coaching.

Jason took a deep breath, slapped his gloves together, and with a roll of his shoulders, started stalking back to his opponent. Crouching low again, Jason dodged another jab and put his hands up. Flint saw that Jason had begun to move side to side, covering up, taking a defensive position to try to lure Samuel close.

Samuel took the bait and Jason laid a few body shots into Samuel's ribs. Surprised, Samuel let out grunt but then used his reach to land a right cross to the side of Jason's head. Jason stumbled backward blocking and covering up as best he could. He's getting beat, Flint thought to himself.

"Tie him up kid." The Sherriff called out, a hint of desperation in his voice. Flint could see Sherriff knew Jason was losing.

"Deep breath. Don't worry about it, kid. You're looking a little tight. Where's your jab? Loosen up and keep stepping!" Father McCabe added.

Excellent advice, Flint thought as he looked at Father McCabe. By encouraging Jason to loosen up, keep moving, and keep punching, he would hopefully find another gear. Flint looked over at the tall slender clergyman and his broad shoulders. It was obvious that the priest knew his way around the ring.

Jason raised his height, kept his knees bent, and began backtracking around the ring. Flint noticed Jason had a burst of energy and he could see the wheels in his head start to turn. He's replaying the beginning of the fight, trying to find a weakness, Flint thought to himself as he watched the young Deputy slowly advance to the middle of the ring.

Then, the bell rang. Jason let out a snort, slapped his gloves together again, and walked briskly back to his corner. Father McCabe grabbed the water bottle and started squirting healthy streams across Jason's face and in his mouth. Sherriff Douglas took his small stool, hopped over the ropes, and sat down in front of Jason wiping the sweat off his face.

"You're doing all right out there, just keep moving." The Sherriff said, as he wiped down Jason's shoulders. "Tell me what you're seeing out there kid?"

"He's everywhere, that's what I'm seeing." Jason replied after spitting his mouthguard onto the floor. Father McCabe crouched down through the ropes to retrieve it.

"Whatever I do, he's one step ahead of me." Jason exhaled and then grasped his lips tight around the spout of the water bottle.

Flint moved to the ropes next to Father McCabe. The Sherriff noticed him and nodded. Flint crouched down behind Jason and tapped him on the shoulder.

"You're right Jason. He's everywhere. Too much in fact. Remember when you covered up and retreated? You were baiting him, right?" Flint asked.

Jason turned to Flint and gave a swift nod. The Sherriff and Father McCabe looked to one another and smiled. Jason's eyes perked waiting for Flint to continue.

"So, what?" Jason asked.

"So, bait him again. But this time, draw him in and then drop your left glove down below your waist. He won't be able to resist attacking your exposed side. When he goes for it, come up with a shovel hook. That will give you an opening to paint one right across his chin." Flint finished his instruction and looked to Jason.

Jason turned to look at the Sherriff and Father McCabe who were both nodding in agreement. The bell rang again, and Jason turned to Flint.

"Are you sure?" He asked, right before Father McCabe stuffed his mouthpiece in.

"It's saved my life many times." Flint replied.

Jason nodded again and raised his glove as to give Flint a thumbs up. Jason then cocked his head and started bouncing left and right, establishing a rhythm before moving toward his opponent. Dropping low, he put his gloves up as he approached Samuel.

Samuel swiftly hopped to the right of Jason to deliver another body shot. Sensing the attack, Jason side stepped out of the way and landed a punch to the middle of Samuel's ribs. Samuel started to stager back. His eyes began to water, and he let out a groan.

"Great shot kid." The Sherriff shouted.

Here comes the bait, Flint thought to himself. Jason put his gloves in front of his face and moved toward the center of the ring. Clearly agitated, Samuel tried to shake off the pain coursing through his side to meet his opponent.

Jason circled back, luring Samuel close to him. Samuel advanced, jabbing cautiously at Jason's head, waiting for an opening. Crouching low once more, Jason back pedaled, enticing Samuel to follow. Now!, Flint exclaimed silently in his head. Slowly and cautiously, Jason dropped his left glove down by his thigh. For a split second, his upper ribs were exposed.

Samuel cocked his arm back and moved in for a cross, Jason delivered a shovel hook connecting with Samuel's bottom jaw, yanking his head up, discombobulating him as his brain slammed against the top of his skull. Without hesitating, Jason then cracked his right glove across the side of Samuel's face. Jason watched as his opponent stumbled back the entire length of the ring, his legs giving out as he fell back, slumping down on the ropes. Samuel's eyes were moving every which way, trying to reset. The bell rang furiously.

"That's it, kid!" The Sherriff shouted as he crouched through the ropes and ran behind Jason, patting his back and rubbing his shoulders. Flint could see the level of pride emulate in the Sherriff's face.

Father McCabe remained behind the ropes and removed his ebony tobacco pipe. He was happily humming a hymn to himself as he cleaned it out. He looked over at Flint and gave him a short wink.

Flint nodded and then turned his attention back to the ring. Jason had his arm around Samuel who had gotten up and was looking much more alert. Both were laughing and had a quick conversation before Jason broke free and returned to his corner.

"Thanks for the advice." Jason said to Flint smiling as the Sherriff helped him take his gloves off.

"My pleasure. Your footwork is getting much better." Flint said.

"And your decision making is changing based on your experiences. You will be rising up the leaderboard for the Golden Gloves this fall for sure." The Sherriff added.

"That would be nice." Jason replied, chuckling to himself a bit as he unstrapped his helmet.

"He will be ready and kicking butt." Father McCabe added, patting Jason's back with a fatherly look across his face.

"Go ahead and hit the showers. Subs are on me for lunch." The Sherriff said.

The Sherriff motioned Jason out of the ring. Jason shook Flint's hand and thanked him again. Before leaving he gave Father McCabe a thumbs up. Father McCabe smiled back as he packed his pipe with Virginia tobacco.

"Hurry it up, kid. We got to get to the courthouse to meet with Deborah Minh's campaign manager to prep for this weekend's rally. Hut to it!" The Sherriff warmly shouted as Jason scurried off through the locker room doors. The Sherriff turned back toward Flint, a broad smile still across his face.

"Flint. Thank you for coming. What do you think? Jason looks good right?" The Sherriff asked, eager to hear Flint's reaction.

"He looks great." Flint replied.

"He does, he does." The Sherriff said and trailed off a bit. It was obvious how much he cared for Jason. The Sherriff continued.

"Anyway, again, thank you for coming out here. I wanted to touch base with you about this weekend and the fishing derby." The Sherriff said.

"Sure, that's what I figured you wanted to talk about." Flint replied. As head of the Vermont Fish and Wildlife in Lakeside, Flint and his team were also responsible for hosting and managing the annual summer fishing derby that was happening this upcoming weekend.

"Flint, I sent my application in months ago, I am sure you got it?" Father McCabe interrupted. "Our team from the church are excited to compete."

"Yes, we got your application. I actually have your passes right here." Flint said. He reached into his pocket and gave the Father an envelope.

"Bless you my child." The Father replied with humor and genuine gratitude.

"Should we talk outside?" The Sherriff asked Flint who nodded, happy to get out of the sweaty basement gym. "Father, would you care to join us?" The Sherriff added.

Father McCabe's eyebrows shot up, happy to have some company during his morning smoke. The three men casually exited the basement out into the muggy summer day. Stepping under a tall oak tree into the shade, Father McCabe struck a match and was happily puffing away, softly humming another hymn.

"About the derby…" The Sherriff said, starting to pace back and forth. "I can't spare any more men, I'm sorry. I know I said that I would be able to, but then Deborah Minh's people sprung this rally on us they're planning down by the Waterfront and my hands are tied." The Sherriff looked up to Flint cautiously.

"It's not about security really, we just need more bodies. We're short at least fifteen volunteers from last year." Flint replied.

This was the part of the job that made Flint the most uncomfortable. Walks through the woods and by the lake were one thing, but setting up an event, handling registrations, marketing, and everything that went along with the derby was something entirely different. So, this is what it's like out of the field, Flint thought to himself.

"We can help volunteer if you would like." Father McCabe interjected. "I can easily muster up fifteen to twenty souls to assist." The Father replied, chuckling as puffs of soft white smoke plumed and faded into the summer air. "What would they be doing?" Father McCabe asked.

"Just parking cars and directing foot traffic." Flint replied, now hopeful that his administrative issues would go away.

"Ok. How about this, we will help, if you promise to participate in our Thanksgiving production we are hosting at the church this year. Deal?" Father McCabe stated.

Flint hesitated a bit. He was not at all religious and had always sat in the back of the church when the Father shamed him into attending mass from time to time.

"What would I have to do?" Flint asked, a little concerned.

"Why God's will is all." The Father replied, laughing to himself again. He didn't say another word. Flint knew that he wouldn't get anything more out of him.

"Deal." Flint said and put out his hand. The Father took it chuckling to himself, his eyes looking rather devilish for a priest. Flint turned toward the Sherriff.

"You owe me. Big time." Flint said as he shot a stare at the Sherriff.

"It would appear I do." The Sherriff replied chidingly. Then all three men began to laugh aloud as they unknowingly enjoyed their last peaceful time together.

Chapter 6

Blue Jaye stood in front of the firing course holding her bow straight out in front of her. Her left forearm and bicep were toned and flexed as she grasped the handle tightly. Gripping her fingers around the nock of the arrow, she pulled back, ready to begin. Her Adidas superstars swept the hard cement floor and she shifted her weight from side to side.

"Ready whenever you are." Dusty said, standing behind her holding a stopwatch.

"On three." Blue Jaye replied calmly before taking a deep breath.

Dusty counted down and clicked the top of the stopwatch as Blue Jaye began the course. She moved quickly and efficiently, fighting the urge to charge out into the battlefield. The course had three buildings on each the right and left side and the corridor in the middle was littered with large cinder blocks and oil barrels. When Dusty would train cadets for combat, he would have one team occupy the buildings while the other team ran through the course. For Blue Jaye though, he had set up the basic cut outs, with a few surprises.

As Blue Jaye approached the first building, a cutout popped up from the makeshift lawn in front of her. The image was of a young boy charging her with a knife. Blue Jaye fired immediately, and the arrow struck the cutout right at the hilt of the knife. Another cutout popped out from the building to her right of a man with a rifle. Blue Jaye rhythmically restrung her bow and fired. The arrow exploded from the bow, striking the cutout in the perp's right collarbone, effectively disarming him while incapacitating him at the same time.

Blue Jaye continued on stealthily to the next set of buildings. From the house on the right, a cutout of a woman appeared from the second story window. She was dressed in a white and red polka dot dress, raising her hand, calling out for help. Blue Jaye aimed but fought off the impulse to fire. A second later, another two cutouts popped out from the two windows on the building's first floor. Both were images of armed men, firing FN SCAR automatic rifles. However, Dusty had also mounted two paint guns by the cutouts that were rigged to fire. Blue Jaye sensed the attack and ducked behind an oil barrel which was promptly splattered with green paint.

She crouched in a panic wondering what to do. This was the first time Dusty had set the course to fire anything at her and she was completely unprepared. She looked to her left and about five yards in front of her was a large cement block. Another round of pellets hit the side of the barrel in rapid succession. I have to do something, Blue Jaye thought frantically.

Again, she looked at the large cement block a little way ahead of her. She saw that the way it was positioned, she might be able to bank an arrow shot directly toward the cut outs. That could give me the distraction I need, she thought to herself. She quickly shifted in her crouch and let off a low shot that ricocheted off the side of the cinderblock and headed toward the front of the house. Just as she predicted, the paint guns followed the shot. Running in a crouch, she moved behind the cinder block, reloaded, and fired, cutting down the first cut out. Rapidly stringing another arrow, she hit the second cutout right in the attacker's chest.

At the same tie another cut out popped out from the house behind her. She pivoted quickly and rolled to her side as a series of pellets splattered the side of the concrete. With no time to think, she strung her bow and fired in the direction of the assault. Suddenly the automatic fire ceased, and Blue Jaye was left panting in an uncomfortable silence. Focusing on the house in front of her, she saw her arrow sticking out of the throat of the assailant. She saw another pop-up of a small child, directly below the perp, crying for help. Lucky, she thought to herself. A bit shaken up, Blue Jaye brushed herself off, strung her bow, and carefully continued on to the last set of buildings.

She paused, surveying the layout in front of her. Both houses stood apparently vacant to the right and left. In front of her, were two oil barrels, one lying on its side. To the right of the barrels was a metal dumpster. Blue Jaye looked suspiciously at the dumpster. Stringing her bow, she aimed at the oil barrel lying on its side and fired. The arrow struck in the front of the barrel, and a stream of black liquid began to seep out, forming a puddle under the dumpster. Blue Jaye then fired a second shot at the spilled oil, sparking a fire which ignited prompting the cut out Dusty had hidden to launch prematurely. Ready and waiting, Blue Jaye shot the cutout, disabling the weapon.

As she suspected, cut outs then popped out from both houses on each side. Using the barrels as cover, she easily took out the final two targets. Standing up and smiling proudly to herself, she looked back at the arrows in her quiver. One arrow remained and thought how lucky she was to get through. Dusty was clapping, happily walking down the course toward her, smiling widely. She looked at the stopwatch in his hands as he approached.

"What was the time?" She asked.

"Time for you to go." Dusty replied, looking at her with gleaming pride.

Blue Jaye brushed back a few blue locks of hair and looked at Dusty curiously.

"Follow me." Dusty said, leading Blue Jaye out of the firing course.

Dusty led Blue Jaye out across the field to his personal barracks. The small one-floor ranch house stood in a sunny corner of the training facility. Painted a light shade of blue, the yard was expertly manicured with a winding brick path, raised garden bed, and an outdoor table and chairs under a thick oak tree. Dusty led her past the garden and gestured for Blue Jaye to have a seat in one of the chairs.

"Take a seat. I have to get something Spirit left for you." Dusty said.

Blue Jaye sat down, watching Dusty as he walked into his home. A few moments later he reappeared with a long canvas case. He set the case on the table, slowly opened it, and pulled out a long wooden bow. The wood was smooth and slender at each end and was the color of burnt chestnut. The middle and grip of the bow was tied tight with leather and adorned with turquoise and emerald beading above and below the grip. Dusty grasped the bow and stood up, turning it upright, and held it out in front of him. Blue Jaye was mesmerized by the ancient relic, staring at the distinguished craftsmanship. Dusty gestured for her to take it and she reached out her hands.

"Its name is K'auw'aata. Which means Sparrow Hawk. Spirit wanted you to have it. It has been passed down through his family and was crafted from an oak tree found deep in the Rockies. It's carved out a single stave and reinforced with sinew made from plant fibers which increase its strength when stretching and firing." Dusty continued as Blue Jaye stared at the bow.

"Its primary use like all weapons was a tool, helping Spirit's tribe hunt bison. It was then given to his great grandfather who served in the Union Army during the Civil War. After the war, he gave it to Spirit's grandfather who was one of the founding members of the original CIA, and worked with a small covert team that eventually evolved into the Joes. That is where he met my grandfather." Dusty looked at Blue Jaye who was now staring at him blankly.

"So, why is he now giving it to me?" She asked.

"Because he, like I do as well, believe you are special. You may not be built for combat, but your instincts and strategic decision making demonstrate you are a natural leader. I was skeptical at first, but Spirit was right as always." Dusty replied. Blue Jaye blushed and pulled back some strands of blue hair.

"So, what next?" Blue Jaye asked.

"Next, you will learn how to use Sparrow Hawk. Tomorrow morning, I will drive you to the bus station which will take you to a small coastal village right outside of Portland, Maine." Dusty stated.

"You're not going to teach me?" Blue Jaye asked, both confused and sad.

"No, Sparrow Hawk is a special weapon that requires a special teacher." Dusty replied, also trying to mask his disappointment that Blue Jaye was moving on.

"Who is it?" Blue Jaye asked.

"A ninja. His name is Tommy. Back in the day, he went by the name Storm Shadow. Now though, he runs a French fry stand with his cousin at an amusement park by the beach. You will be fine. Just tell him that Spirit sent you and give him this." Dusty stated, reaching into his pocket.

He removed a silver token, a little larger than a quarter and handed it to Blue Jaye. Blue Jaye took it, examining the coin. The image on both faces was of a roller coaster and had the words printed Palace Playland. Blue Jaye looked at Dusty confused.

"Just give that to him and tell him Spirit sent you. He might be a little grumpy, but he will train you." Dusty paused before continuing. Blue Jaye looked down at the coin one more time and grasped it tight in her hands.

"Tonight, I will make your favorite dinner, BBQ pork sliders with a kimchi dressing and twice fried plantains." Dusty said, smiling genuinely at Blue Jaye.

"I'm going to miss you Dusty." She said.

"I'm going to miss you too Jaye." Dusty replied quietly.

Blue Jaye then threw both of her hands around him, burying her head deep into his chest. Dusty was taken off guard by the bear hug but hugged her back, awkwardly patting Blue Jaye's back.

Chapter 7

The entrance to Waterman Hall was adorned by four monumental columns and an expansive granite staircase. The Baroness's heels echoed as she walked through the entrance and up one of the marble stairwells that ascended on each side of the building's interior. The Hall housed Lakeside University's administrative offices, English Department, as well as the headquarters for Deborah Minh's Global Alliance.

Deborah Minh, Director of the Global Alliance stood behind her desk, staring out the window. Waterman was one of the original University buildings and stood high on the hill overlooking the town and lake. She wore a light carnelian sun dress with an hourglass cut that fell slightly below her knees.

Turning away from the window, Deborah looked at her desk which was scattered with campaign posters and banners reading Minh for Governor. As the youngest Director of the Global Alliance, Deborah had developed literacy and works programs, co-housing initiatives, and also bolstered her reputation among the community with her renewable energy actions.

After surviving the incident two years ago, she received a sizable settlement to help with her recovery and trauma. During her recuperation, she used some of her newly attained assets and invested in wind turbines. Partnering with lead meteorologists at the Mount Washington Observatory, they analyzed the convection and advection for the mountains surrounding Lakeside, factoring wind currents, temperatures, and speed.

Determining that the southwestern slope of Sugar Peak provided an optimal location, Deborah backed the Green Mountain Energy Conservation to lease the land and construct the turbines. Using her stature as the Director of the Global Alliance, Deborah campaigned successfully for the windmills to be built.

After constructed, her research and planning paid off. The location of the turbines created an immense amount of energy throughout northwestern Vermont. This resulted in lower energy bills for residents, but the long-term payoffs, which Deborah was currently starting to experience, were greater than she could have ever imagined. Other states and government agencies started looking Deborah's way as they needed to decrease costs through alternative energy solutions. Soon, Deborah started rubbing elbows with mayors, governors, senators, and multiple executives from various private corporations. It became obvious to her that for her program to reach the national level, she would have to become more than just the Director of Global Alliance. Running under the independent party, Deborah's campaign had been extremely successful, and her approval rating was rising fast.

A proud smile curved up the side of her chiseled cheek. Her assistant, Carrie Mullin, briskly walked into the office and laid a pair of manila folders on the desk. Deborah looked down at the folders. The words Saturn Enterprises where written across the top of the files.

"Anastasia McCullen has arrived." Carrie stated blankly. "I still don't know why you are meeting with Saturn. Why would you consider partnering with them?" Carrie had dark brown hair tied in a single braid that lay midway down her back. She had pale skin and broad shoulders and wore a navy top under a gray, linen scarf.

"Saturn's resources would help increase our footprint. And their mission is not all that different from ours." Deborah replied. She had gracefully moved around her desk, leaning on the solid mahogany.

"But their history…?" Carrie retorted. She was cut off as the office door unlatched.

Swinging wide, the Baroness entered. Her silver hair was tied back and draped over her right shoulder. She unbuttoned her leather jacket and revealed a black ribbon silk dress. Effortlessly, she moved past Carrie and took a seat in front of Deborah, crossing her legs.

Deborah gave a nervous laugh and nodded for Carrie to take a seat next to their guest. Quickly, Deborah gave the Baroness a warm smile, sat down, and laid both hands on the desk in front of her.

"Ms. McCullen. Thank you so much for coming." Deborah said.

"Thank you for having me." The Baroness replied in a thick eastern European accent. "I've been coming to Vermont off and on for years. It's nice to return. And please, it is Mrs. McCullen."

"Of course. I'm so sorry. Mrs. McCullen." Deborah corrected herself.

The Baroness waited a few moments as the silence stretched uncomfortably across the room. She then looked to Carrie and Deborah and reciprocated a warm smile.

"I love these mountains. Especially in the fall. I am sure you are aware of the grist mill Saturn funded to power the old Curvy Mine, which now I believe, helps power the northern town of St. Joes?" The Baroness asked, happily shifting her long slender legs. Carrie shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"I am well aware of your early work with natural energy here in Vermont. You could say that it was part of my inspiration when we partnered with the Green Mountain Energy Conservation." Deborah said.

"A brilliant initiative Ms. Minh. And I suspect that your campaign, if successful, will allow you to expand your programs throughout Vermont, and possibly…other states?" The Baroness asked leaning forward. Her red ruby dangled gently from her neck.

"Well that is the plan. If we win." Deborah stated hopefully.

"I think that a partnership with Saturn would help increase your chances, Ms. Minh." The Baroness stated, leaning in a little further.

"Why would you say that?" Deborah asked, finally releasing her hands from the desk and leaning back in her chair to listen.

"At Saturn, we have created partnerships with other states with the goal of providing resources and aide for any sorts of emergencies." The Baroness replied.

"What types of resources?" Carrie asked, integrating herself into the conversation for the first time.

"Emergency rapid response. Supporting all types of situations, large and small." The Baroness replied quickly. Reaching down into her leather briefcase, she removed two pamphlets of information and gave one to Carrie and Deborah.

"We will provide immediate air and ground support when an emergency or natural disaster occurs. Saturn pledges that whenever a situation arises, we will bring staff, food, water, temporary shelters, and medical support from triage to trauma." The Baroness paused to let them flip through the pamphlet. Deborah scanned a few pages and placed it down on the desk.

"And the cost for us?" Deborah asked.

"Minimal. We work with you based on the level of your state's gross domestic product compared to your state's annual household income and then we come up with a figure that works for you." The Baroness answered.

"And if there are no incidents?" Carrie asked, staring at the Baroness pessimistically.

"Unfortunately, we don't live in a world where we can take those risks anymore, no? Every year the flooding and damage from winds and blizzards increase. Hurricanes and tropical storms are reaching your borders. It has become as predictable as the tides regrettably." She deliberately paused for a few moments before continuing.

"It took days for FEMA to get into New Orleans after Katrina, longer for Puerto Rico where it was one year before power was restored after Maria. The damage in the Carolinas due to Florence was catastrophic. And those are just hurricanes. If you develop a partnership with Saturn, when the next disaster occurs, the entire country will see how prepared Vermont was." The Baroness stopped waiting for Deborah to reply.

"But this again, is based on if we win the election correct?" Deborah replied. The smile on the Baroness's face widened, exposing her teeth.

"It really depends on the circumstances, no? If you accept, we will provide you with a pro bono pilot program for your entire first term if you win. After that, we can work out a price together. How does that sound?" The Baroness stated.

"It sounds suspicious if you ask me." Carrie spoke up again, this time a little louder and more agitated. "I hope you are not planning on taking advantage of all the good Deborah Minh stands for. We might be from one of the smaller states, but we are smart enough to do our homework. Before we continue, I would like to hear your comments about Saturn's past relationship with M.A.R.S. industries, the weapons it sold, and its relationship with multiple terrorist organizations? Seems a little different from emergency response don't you think? Your late husband was the C.E.O. of M.A.R.S. was he not? And are not you still an active board member?" Carrie said, sitting next to the Baroness defiantly.

Deborah let out a sigh but did not say a word, waiting for the Baroness to respond. The Baroness remained silent and motionless. The smile had disappeared from her face and her glasses lenses had tinted slightly. Uncrossing her legs, she turned her head away from Carrie to face Deborah directly.

"The past can be difficult to live with yes, but sometimes you just have to live with it. I have learned that, especially after my husband's death. But that is the past, and the only way left is forward." The tint in her glasses began to fade and her warm smile had returned. Abruptly, she turned to face Carrie.

"Ms. Mullin. We all have family, history, and situations that we just can't change. But that does not mean things don't get better. I see that your handbag is Hugo BOSS. A very popular design, but I am sure you would be surprised at the amount of Nazi uniforms listed in their 1938 catalog." The Baroness stated as she shifted back to face Deborah.

"What I am proposing is a partnership where we can move forward together. The reality is that we can help you increase your mission and your campaign. I believe you have a rally scheduled for this weekend isn't that right?" The Baroness asked. Deborah silently nodded.

"Announcing our partnership would make quite the impression and would create a large barrier for your opponent to overcome." The Baroness stood up and held out her hand at Deborah.

"Do we have an agreement?" The Baroness asked.

Deborah looked over at Carrie who had a pleading look on her face but said nothing. Lowering her head, Deborah stared at the various campaign posters and banners that were strewn across her desk. Slowly, she leaned over and took the Baroness's hand in hers.

"You have a deal." Deborah stated.

Chapter 8

A statue of a flying monkey stood atop the roof of the brick stone building that once served as the old Lakeside railroad station. Situated on the lakefront, the large dignified edifice rested by the shoreline in front of the Adirondacks rising in the distance. The statue of the flying monkey grasped a flagpole that rose from the ridge of the roof, looking down on the people walking below.

Eddie Langstrom was crouched behind the bronze monkey, patiently waiting for the rally happening below to conclude. His eyes were closed, and he focused on his breathes trying to establish focus. He looked down by his feet and opened his case removing his rifle. Attaching the scope, he leaned towards the edge of the roof and peered down.

The rally had drawn a large crowd who were clapping and cheering in front of a wooden stage. The stage was set up in front of the railroad station and the statue of the flying monkey provided the perfect perch and cover. Deborah Minh stood at the podium and pumped her fist shouting and riling up her crowd of supporters.

Eddie saw Deborah's assistant Carrie Mullin standing to her left, holding a backup set of notecards silently mouthing the words of Deborah's speech. A step behind Carrie stood Sherriff Douglas. To the right of Deborah stood the Baroness. At first, Eddie was surprised to see her standing in her stark black trench coat, but quickly realized her presence would eliminate her involvement in what was about to happen.

Eddie returned to surveying the rally. He returned to the Baroness who was clapping, smiling, and waving to the crowd. Eddie did not know her endgame, but it was obvious Deborah Minh was a part of it. He watched as the Baroness tilted her head up and looked in his direction. Does she know where I am? He asked himself.

Behind the Baroness, Eddie saw the Deputy Sherriff, Jason Smith. Having trailed the Sherriff for the past week, Eddie had learned his daily routine, and the Deputy Sherriff was a big part of it. Turning his attention back to his case, Eddie brought out the silencer and began to fasten it to the barrel of his rifle.

How am I going to do this, he thought to himself? He could eliminate the Sherriff with one quick shot, but that would be too direct. The Baroness could have hired anyone, but she chose him for a reason. He closed his eyes. Soon, a placid calm engulfed his senses and he opened his eyes and returned to his scope. Deborah looked like she was about to conclude her speech as she clasped both hands above her, enticing another raucous cheer from the crowd.

Her assistant Carrie began to fidget, and Eddie saw her turn to the last notecard. She took a small step toward Deborah. This is it, he thought, and readjusted his grip around the stock of the gun. Shifting his aim so that Deborah's assistant was square in his crosshairs, Eddie took one last breath and fired.

As the gun went off, Eddie gently released his grip letting the rifle shift slightly. Instead of hitting Carrie square in the chest, the bullet connected with her right shoulder, exploding it in a mist of red. Carrie's body was propelled back, and she twisted, violently striking the stage.

A moment of confusion set in as Deborah turned, a look of panic across her face. Instinctually, Eddie saw Deborah reach down for Carrie, but was pulled back by Deputy Sherriff Smith, who had thrown himself in front of her. As he grabbed Deborah and ran off stage, he wrapped his free arm around the Baroness. Allowing herself to be whisked away, Eddie saw the Baroness tilt her head in his direction once more.

Panning to the left Eddie saw Deborah's assistant writhing on the stage floor. Sherriff Douglas was crouched down in front of her and as delicately as he could, he started to pick her up. The Sherriff's back was turned toward Eddie as he lifted Carrie up in his arms. Eddie exhaled deeply and readjusted his aim. Then, he fired again.

Confirming his target was eliminated, Eddie disassembled his rifle, closed the case and retreated from his perch. The only thing that remained on top of the roof was the statue of the flying monkey, laughing in silent delight as the screams and sirens echoed down below.

Chapter 9

Agent Blue Jaye looked out across the waves as they casually crashed on the surf, spreading out across the sand at low tide. A trio of seagulls waddled, digging for food as beachgoers strolled by, dodging kids playing on the beach. A loud sputtering rang out above and Blue Jaye looked up to see a single propeller plan dragging and aerial banner that read Maine's Catch of the Day at the Village Inn – Twin Lobsters - -$14.99. Turning her attention away from the ocean, Blue Jaye looked at the massive Ferris wheel of the Palace Playland Amusement Park as it rotated in the hot summer sun.

Behind the Ferris wheel were lines of skeeball lanes, carnival rides, food vendors, and souvenir shops. A vintage carousel was offset next to a large pirate ship that slowly rocked back and forth. Raising her head, Blue Jaye ran her hands through her blue hair and tied the loose strands back. She let out a short breath, picked up her sandals and bow case, and walked toward the park.

Reaching the amusement park, Blue Jaye saw a small wooden structure that housed a t-shirt shop, ice cream stand, and a take-out window with a sign that read Tommy's Famous Fries. A line of beachgoers waited patiently in front. Blue Jaye was surprised at how popular the little stand was. Peering in for a closer look, Blue Jaye saw a middle-aged Asian woman working the counter. She was tall and thin, but the gray wisps in her hair indicated she was older than Blue Jaye initially thought. In addition to the woman, Blue Jaye saw an older man working in the back, frying large metal baskets of French fries and refilling empties with freshly cut potatoes.

Like the woman, the man appeared to be of Asian descent, but a little older. Blue Jaye suspected him to be in his sixties by the wrinkles on his face and the gray streaks throughout his hair. The man wore a stained apron and moved effortlessly, like he had been Frenching fries his whole life. That must be Tommy, Blue Jaye said to herself.

Deciding it was now or never, Blue Jaye slung her bow case over her shoulder and started toward the French fry stand. She tried her best to stay hidden behind the passing crowds, maneuvering her way to the back of the line. At five feet, eight inches, Blue Jaye positioned herself behind a larger couple as she slowly progressed toward the front. The couple then unexpectedly left the line, leaving her completely exposed. She locked eyes with the Asian woman who had just handed a cup of steaming fries to a pair of girls.

"You! Girl!" The woman shouted, pointing directly at Blue Jaye.

The woman's voice projected commandingly, silencing everyone in line. Blue Jaye crouched inward, shrinking like she was caught red handed. The woman stared at her and gestured with two quick strokes of her arm to move to the front of the line.

"Come here. Now!" The woman shouted again.

Shocked, scared, and embarrassed, Blue Jaye didn't see any other options but to obey. Sheepishly, she trudged forward, feeling everyone's eyes as she walked by. Reaching the front of the counter, Blue Jaye stood as confidently as she could.

Face-to-face, Blue Jaye realized the woman had to be at least six feet tall, maybe taller. She had crossed her arms and stared back at her in a questioning mother. Ignoring the line of patrons, the woman raised her head and began to speak.

"Who are you? And why have you been spying on us for the past fifteen minutes?" The woman uncrossed her arms and leaned in close to whisper in Blue Jaye's ear.

"And what are you planning to do with that bow?" The woman asked.

Taken aback, Blue Jaye didn't know what to do or how to respond. Her cover was completely blown, and she felt unprotected and vulnerable. The line of hungry beachgoers had started to fidget. Without looking away, the woman cocked her head back and shouted in Japanese toward the older man cooking a basket of fries.

Silently, the man dumped the scolding potatoes into the metal bin, seasoned them thoroughly, and walked behind the cash register, motioning to the next person in line. Cautiously, the next person shuffled to the counter and quietly gave the man his order.

"Hey!" The Asian woman said, snapping her fingers in Blue Jaye's face.

Blue Jaye flinched, returning her attention to the woman. The woman crossed her arms again and tapped her foot waiting for a response. Blue Jaye swallowed, and decided it was best to tell the truth.

"The General sent me." Blue Jaye stated quietly. The woman's eyes narrowed.

"Which General?" The woman asked. Blue Jaye was caught a little off guard. She had only met one General so far.

"Spirit." Blue Jaye answered.

With this, the Asian woman relaxed. Her expression of accusatory anger was now replaced with a genuine curiosity.

"What is your code name?" The woman asked slowly.

"Blue Jaye." Blue Jaye replied, taking a small step backward.

A smile started to form across the woman's face and it quickly turned into laughter. She clapped her hands happily.

"So, you're the new Jaye. We have heard the rumors." The woman said as she looked Blue Jaye up and down.

"I'm Jinx. But you can call me Kimi." Kimi's arm shot out in front of her. Blue Jay took it guardedly. Kimi's grip was firm, but warm and friendly.

"Why did Spirit send you? And what are you doing with that?" Kimi inquired gesturing again at the bow case. Blue Jaye took a deep breath before explaining.

"The General…he sent me to find someone named Tommy who is supposed to teach me how to use this." Blue Jaye replied, holding the bow case up from her shoulder.

"But Tommy's retired." Kimi said, looking a little confused. "Spirit knows that." The abrasiveness had disappeared from Kimi's line of questioning and she looked at Blue Jaye with an honest interest.

"I'm not sure. I was told to give Tommy this." Blue Jaye replied, removing the old amusement park coin from her jeans pocket. She laid it on the counter in front of Kimi.

Kimi's eyes went wide, and she tried her best to cover the gasp that escaped her mouth. She took the coin like it was a long-lost treasure and quickly put it in her apron. She then addressed the patrons standing in line, waiting for their fries.

"We need to close for fifteen minutes. We will re-open then!" Kimi shouted. The looks on the people's faces were a mishmash of sadness and shock, but no one dared to speak up in resistance. Kimi gestured for Blue Jaye to go around back.

"Fifteen minutes. Then fresh fries." Kimi stated to the crowd and reached up above her and slammed the solid metal awning down, shuttering the take-out window closed.

Blue Jaye walked around to the back entrance and saw Kimi walk out the door. She quickly motioned for her. Blue Jaye entered a room filled with bags of potatoes pilled on each side creating a narrow corridor. Walking through, the hall led to a small back room with a large industrial steel sink.

Mounted to the right of the sink was an antique hand-operated fry cutter. Made of cast iron, the cutter was bolted to the flat counter. From the looks of it, potatoes were loaded in the front and a lever was pulled down, pushing the spuds forward through the slicer. A plastic bucket sat on the floor capturing the freshly cut potatoes.

Kimi pointed for Blue Jaye to sit down on a small stool in the middle of the room as she walked back to the front of the shop. Blue Jaye heard muffled shouts in Japanese. As Kimi shouted, she heard the curt voice of the older man interrupt Jinx intermittently.

Blue Jaye could not understand a word Kimi was saying, but she sounded unyielding and goading. After a few more minutes, Blue Jaye heard Kimi's shouts grow progressively louder, and she realized they were heading into the back room. Blue Jaye shifted uncomfortably in her stool as the older man burst in with Kimi on his heels, barking in his ear.

Blue Jaye sat on her stool as Kimi and the older man stood on either side of her, arguing in Japanese. She watched as they pointed at different parts of her body barking out arguments, counterpoints, and rebuffs. Soon, Blue Jaye saw that the too weren't looking at her anymore, but were standing face-to-face, pained grimaces across their faces. Tears began to stream down Kimi's face as Tommy lowered his eyes to the floor. The entire room was engulfed in a tense silence.

Feeling awkward and wanting to be anywhere else than where she was, Blue Jaye shifted position and was surprised to see the bow case was resting in her lap. She ran her palm along the lightly coarse canvas, and opened the case, carefully removing the bow.

The deep sienna of the wooden bow was mesmerizing. Blue Jaye suddenly realized that Kimi and Tommy had stopped arguing and were staring at her in silence. The expression on Tommy's face had changed. He looked at Blue Jaye with a mixture of astonishment and recognition.

He took a step toward Blue Jaye, his eyes now fixated on the bow. Blue Jaye stumbled backward, almost falling over on her stool. Realizing how scared she was, Tommy raised both hands, gesturing to Blue Jaye he meant no harm.

"It's ok." Tommy said speaking English for the first time. "I'm sorry if I scared you. I…" He trailed off, embarrassed at his behavior.

"He's sorry because he is a surly, stubborn old horse." Kimi interjected. Tommy retorted sharply in Japanese. He turned back toward Blue Jaye.

"Please accept my apologies." Tommy continued, giving Blue Jaye a low bow. "It's been a while since I left the team, and I haven't had a student in a long time."

"That's no fault but your own." Kimi interjected again. Tommy spat out again in Japanese.

"May I?" He asked Blue Jaye, motioning to the bow.

Blue Jaye nodded and handed it to him. Tommy tenderly took it from her. Observing the bow, Tommy looked like he was reunited with an old friend. He held it out in front of him and smiled wide, beaming with satisfaction. Blue Jaye saw Kimi behind him also smiling.

"K'auw'aata. It's been a long-time." Tommy whispered aloud.

He turned back toward Blue Jaye and held out the bow, offering it back. He looked at Blue Jaye with kindness.

"So, you are the new Jaye?" He asked. Blue Jaye nodded, never knowing what to do or say when one of the old Joes said something like that. He continued.

"And Spirit gave you Sparrow Hawk and sent you to me, cashing in an old favor, hmm?" He asked.

Blue Jaye nodded again. Kimi moved swiftly next to Tommy and dropped the coin Blue Jaye gave to her in his hand. Tommy looked at the coin, chuckling to himself, shaking his head. He placed the coin in his pocket and moved closer to Blue Jaye. Before she could flinch, Tommy grasped her right arm, squeezing her biceps and triceps. He had a look of surprise across his face.

"Who trained you?" He asked.

"Dusty." Blue Jaye replied, a little unsure what to do as Tommy continued his physical examination of her arm.

"Well, Dusty did a good job laying the foundation. But for Sparrow Hawk, you will need more definition."

Tommy released her arm and walked toward the stainless-steel industrial sink. Crouching down he pulled out a bucket full of peeled potatoes soaking in a clear liquid. From the aroma, Blue Jaye concluded it was vinegar. Tommy dumped the bucket into the sink basin.

He crouched down and pulled out another bucket and continued to dump potatoes into the sink until it was filled to the brim. He then motioned for Blue Jaye to watch. Rapidly, he took a potato and placed it in the antique cutter mounted on the counter.

Spacing his legs apart, he bent his knees and looked at Blue Jaye for acknowledgement. Blue Jaye nodded confirming she understood how she was supposed to stand. Tommy then pulled the handle up and back, sending the potato forward through the blades. Crinkly cut strips fell into a bucket below.

Then, Tommy rapidly began to cut potatoes. It took him a matter of seconds to plow through half of the sink. He then refilled the basin with another bucket of peeled spuds. He pointed to the mound of taters.

"Get to work. In the morning, I will take you to the old pier to see how you can handle Sparrow Hawk." Tommy stated before turning back to Kimi.

"Your fifteen minutes are up. Hungry beachgoers want their fries. Let's go itoko!" He shouted at Kimi before exiting the room.

Kimi smirked at Tommy as he left and then walked up to Blue Jaye. Taking her hands in hers, Kimi shook them happily. She then put both of her palms on Blue Jaye's shoulders and turned her around to face the sink full of potatoes.

"Welcome to the family Blue Jaye-chan. Now, let's get to work." Kimi said.

Chapter 10

Sherriff Jason Smith stood in Sherriff Douglas's office looking blankly at a large oaken bookshelf. A hot summer rain spattered on the window that looked out onto the lakefront. Jason reached out and grabbed the left side of the bookshelf and leaned forward, bowing his head.

What am I going to do? He thought to himself as he reached up with his other hand to wipe his watery eyes. Sherriff Douglas had groomed him to take his place, but Jason never thought it would have been at the cost of such traumatic circumstances. His mind raced back to days ago boxing at St. Nicholas's corner, the Sherriff's coaching echoing in his head.

Wishing he had some of that coaching now, Jason looked up at the various pictures, medals, and awards resting on the shelves. How could he live up to this? Jason asked himself as he wiped his face again. The heavy feeling of uncertainty began to settle in the bottom of this stomach. Just then he heard a soft knocking on his door.

Standing in the doorway, looking somber and apologetic, was Flint. Jason gestured Flint to come in and take a seat.

"How you holding up?" Flint asked.

"It's hard." Jason said. "Everything is moving so fast. I am not sure what to do. I…" Jason trailed off. Flint leaned over and put his hand on Jason's shoulder.

"Breathe. It's going to take some time." Flint replied.

Leaning closer, Flint made eye contact with Jason. The newly appointed Sherriff saw the look on Flint's face and knew Flint was aware of the pain he was feeling.

"What about the shooter? Any leads?" Flint asked, trying to change the subject.

"None. We are reviewing surveillance tapes but haven't turned anything up. There was a lot of people at the rally. It will take some time." Jason replied. Flint nodded.

"I will get you in contact with someone that can expedite the surveillance review and probably get a suspect identified." Flint stated.

"Yes, thank you. Thank would be a huge help." Jason said. For the first time since the shooting, he felt a bit of hope.

"Consider it done. You will be getting a call from him shortly. And the shooter's perch? What did you find?" Flint stated.

"Whoever it was, he or she used one of the flying monkey statues as cover. Took the shell casings. No prints, easy exit points." Jason replied.

Flint leaned back in his seat as he took everything in. Running a hand through his graying hair, he closed his eyes to think.

"What do you think happened?" Flint asked.

Jason sighed deeply before responding.

"The evidence points to Deborah being the target. The bullet that killed the Sherriff came from a .270 Winchester. It's a common gun used around here for hunting deer and bear. We are cross referencing with local stores in the area." Jason paused waiting for Flint's reaction.

"So, you think that it was some local, possibly a political fanatic who was targeting Deborah but missed the target?" Flint asked, waiting for Jason's reaction.

"Like I said, that's what the evidence points to." Jason replied, his face now in a frown. Flint cocked his head.

"But you don't believe that do you?" Flint asked. Jason shook his head no.

"Why?" Flint asked.

"Things just don't add up." Jason answered. Flint waited for him to continue. "First, if the shooter was targeting Deborah, after they missed the first time, why did the next shot hit the Sherriff? He was running in the opposite direction of Deborah." Jason asked.

"Maybe the shooter thought she was going to run the other way? If the killer was inexperienced, it would be an easy mistake to make." Flint replied, playing devil's advocate and making sure Jason was thinking of all possible scenarios.

"Ok. But when I grabbed Deborah and ran offstage, for a few seconds before the second shot, we were totally exposed. I sensed it then and thought for sure that we were in the direct line of fire. But the shot went left. Way left." Jason stated. Flint nodded.

"Second, the shooter took the shell casings. To me, that displays the instincts of someone who has done this before." Jason said.

"Still, it could be a hunter. Regulations state they need to pick up all shells. We have fines for that. It's pretty common behavior." Flint said, challenging Jason again.

"Ok, true. But then there's the perch. When I was standing up behind the metal statue of the flying monkey, it was the perfect spot. I am thinking that the shooter was more experienced than the evidence is letting on." Jason stated.

"How experienced?" Flint asked.

"Your type of experienced." Jason stated softly and quietly. Flint reclined in his seat again, deep in thought.

"So, who do you think was the target?" Flint replied.

"I think the Sherriff was the target." Jason said, and his eyes began to water.

"Why would the shooter target the Sherriff?" Flint asked.

"To put us all in disarray!" Jason shouted, clearly frustrated and barely holding it together. "It worked too. I mean, I don't know what to think or do and now I am the one in charge. What if this is what the shooter wanted? What if just like last incident, there is something bigger, more sinister about to happen?" Jason shouted and put his head in his hands.

"I think you are on the right track." Flint stated plainly. Jason's head shot up with a bewildered look on his face.

"You do?" Jason questioned.

"I agree with your assessment. I think that killing the Sherriff was an attempt to throw us off from the real threat." Flint responded. Jason sat upright in his chair.

"So, what do we do?" Jason asked.

"Like I said before, I will get you in contact with someone who will review the surveillance and work to pinpoint a suspect. Right now, I think its best to have the shooter think they've succeeded. Release a statement that indicates Deborah was the target and that the shooter is possibly local, with previous hunting experience. This will give us time to investigate and hopefully catch them in the act when they strike next." Flint stated.

"When theystrike next?" Jason asked, his eyebrows raised.

"My guess is, if the Sherriff was the target, and the goal was to disable law enforcement, then whatever they are planning has yet to come." Flint replied.

Jason leaned back in his chair. Flint saw he looked distressed and put a hand on his.

"We will find them. The Sherriff was a good friend of mine too." Flint sad and bowed his head.

"What about Carrie?" Flint continued. "What are the doctor's saying?"

"The last update I got was an hour ago. She had just come out of her second surgery and is now in the ICU. The first shot shattered her right shoulder. The shot that killed the Sherriff also hit her square in the gut. She's fighting for her life right now." Jason stated. Flint sighed.

"Are you headed to the hospital after this?" Flint asked.

"No, I'm going to the morgue to accompany the Sherriff's body as it's transported to the funeral home." Jason said, and the somber look reemerged on his face.

"Ok. I have to head back to the office to button up a few things but will meet you and Father McCabe in an hour." Flint stated and got up from his chair before addressing Jason one last time.

"We will figure this out. You're the Sherriff now. Keep thinking the way you are and contact me if anything comes up." Flint stated. Jason nodded giving the best thumbs up he could muster.

"Thank you Flint." Jason said, as Flint turned and walked out the door.

You're the Sherriff now. Jason repeated these words in his head. He looked across the desk at the Sherriff's chair and reluctantly walked over. Caressing the worn leather arm, he sank into the aging seat and gently glided his hands across the edge of the desk in front of him. His assistant Ellen walked into the room.

Ellen was at least two decades older than Jason and regardless of the summer heat, always wore a homemade wool sweater in shades of green, tan, or blue. In addition to the olive sweater she had on today, Ellen wore dark brown slacks and a pair of worn running shoes. He knew how much Sherriff Douglas meant to her and it was obvious she was trying to stay busy after the tragedy.

"Sherriff Smith?" She asked quietly but firmly as she inched her way into the office. Jason sat upright in the chair.

"Ellen. How are you holding up? How can I help?" Jason asked tenderly. Ellen smiled.

"It's taken a toll that's for sure, but I promised Douglas I would always be here for the department so that's what I'm going to do." Ellen replied standing tall and confident. Jason smiled, relieved she was there to help. She took a step closer to the desk.

"I came to tell you there is a woman here requesting to see you." She stated. Jason raised his eyebrow curiously.

"Her name is Anastasia McCullen. She says she works for Saturn Industries." Ellen said.

"Saturn Industries? What does she want?" Jason asked, his interest piqued.

"She didn't say." Ellen asked. Jason paused for a moment to think.

"Please, show her in." Jason stated.

Ellen walked out of the office and a few moments later Anastasia McCullen strode through the doorway. Jason was taken aback at how striking the woman was. Over six feet tall, Anastasia had long silver hair that elegantly fell over her shoulders and back. She wore a solid black cold shoulder V-Neck tunic that hung casually down to her mid-thighs over a pair of charcoal petite jeans. Sitting in the chair that was just occupied by Flint, Anastasia flipped her long slender legs over each other and gracefully rested her hands on her lap. She smiled warmly at Jason through a pair of thin octagonal glasses. Jason recognized her from the shooting but was surprised at how unshaken she appeared.

"Ms. McCullen. Thank you for stopping by. I am glad that you are ok." Jason said genuinely.

"Thanks to you. You saved my life, and I am here to thank you. Oh, and please, it is Mrs. McCullen." The Baroness replied.

"Yes of course, so sorry about that Mrs. McCullen. Just doing my job. Unfortunately, I couldn't save everyone." Jason said, hanging his head low.

"But you did save Deborah and me. Surely, the killer was trying to kill Ms. Minh, don't you think?" The Baroness asked.

Jason stopped before replying. Why would she ask that? Jason thought to himself.

"That is the current theory. What exactly is your interest?" Jason inquired. The Baroness uncrossed her legs and leaned forward.

"I, along with the support and resources of Saturn Industries, have agreed to partner with Deborah and her camp. In light of this new arrangement, the shooting is of great interest to me and I am here to offer both my gratitude and assistance." The Baroness stated. Jason looked surprised.

"And what kind of help can you offer?" He asked. The Baroness leaned back in her chair.

"At Saturn Industries, our primary focus is providing rapid response relief to victims in all sorts of situations. Due to the varying nature of our clients, we have relationships with a few notable security firms." The Baroness said.

"Private security? Why would we be interested in that?" Jason asked.

"Sherriff, I don't want to sound presumptuous, but with the sudden loss of your previous Sherriff, and the fact that one of the highest profile candidates the state has ever had was almost assassinated, why wouldn't I be interested in helping. I am sure you are in need for support, and I am in a position to assist." The Baroness answered.

Jason shifted in his chair. Again, bells and red flags were going off in his head. While he was in need of help, his gut told him not to trust this woman. He was vaguely aware of Saturn Industries from their involvement during last year's hurricane season, but that was on the national news. What was Saturn's interest in Lakeside, Vermont? Jason asked himself. He smiled awkwardly before replying.

"Thank you, Mrs. McCullen. While I appreciate the offer, I will have to pass. It is true we are reeling from Sherriff Douglas's death, but we are family here in Lakeside, and we will work through this together." Jason finished.

Leaning back in his chair, he waited for Anastasia to reply. For a brief second, he saw what he thought was a flash of rage course through her eyes, but then a wide smile appeared on her face. Standing up, she held out her hand.

"I completely understand. My offer stands, especially since our interests are now aligned with Deborah Minh's safety. I am sure you will be hearing from me as we move closer to the Primary election in a month." The Baroness stated and shook Jason's hand.

"I look forward to it. Please, Mrs. McCullen. My door is always open if you need." Jason concluded.

The Baroness pulled her silver hair back and let it fall gently on her back. She nodded once more and then walked out the door. Jason sunk back in his chair wondering what to think of the strange conversation. Again, he racked his brain on what Saturn Industries interest was with Deborah Minh. She was the most polarizing political figure in Vermont since probably Coolidge, but still, they were a small state.

Something seemed off, with the shooting, and now with Saturn Industries and Anastasia McCullen. Looking at his watch, Jason realized he was already late and needed to get to the morgue. Putting on his jacket, he pressed his intercom. Ellen emerged in his office almost immediately.

"I'm going to the morgue to meet Father McCullen to transport the Sherriff's body to the funeral home. Can you please call James Billings at the Lakeside Chronicle and let him know to expect a statement from me by the end of the day?" Jason asked.

"You got it." Ellen asked. Jason grabbed his keys. He turned back to Ellen one last time.

"Also, get me everything you can on Saturn Industries." He stated, before heading out the door.

Chapter 11

The full moon rose high in the night sky. A cool breeze swept down from the northern mountains and a steamy mist rose from the grass as the katydids trilled and chirped. Camouflaged by the dark of night, the Baroness reverted to her long leather coat and dark rimmed glasses. She stood in the middle of the Lakeside University Rugby field, nestled below the Medical Center. There were no lights, and the goal posts stood at each end watching the field like silent centuries.

The Baroness looked up towards the Medical Center. Recently, the center added a seven-story inpatient building that increased the Center's research and care for cardiothoracic, vascular, cardiology, oncology, and orthopedic patients. The newly christened addition had a wall of windows that stretched across all seven stories. At night, it lit up like a beacon. Another cool breeze raced across the rugby field, rustling the Baroness's silver locks on the back of her leather coat. Hidden in the whispers of the wind, the Baroness heard a slight stirring and turned to look downfield. The small silhouette of a man had started walking toward her.

As the man came closer, a passing shade of moonlight revealed it was Eddie Langstrom. The Baroness waited until Eddie and she were face-to-face.

"Excellent work with the first target. The local police are in disarray, and my business here is moving forward. Thanks to you, we are ahead of schedule." The Baroness stated, waiting for Eddie to respond. He had a curious look on his face.

The Baroness reached into her inner breast pocket and removed a laminated badge. She handed it out to Eddie. Eddie cautiously took the badge. A Lakeside Medical Center logo was printed on the top with Eddie's headshot. There was also a false name and a bar code. Below the barcode were two words that read, Service: Laundry. He looked up at the shining lights of the Medical Center perched on the hill above them.

"Your next target." The Baroness stated.

A buzz came from Eddie's jacket and he removed his phone. A picture of Carrie Mullin, Deborah Minh's assistant flashed on the screen. Eddie raised his head and looked at the Baroness.

"Her doctors have indicated the odds are against her. Here. This will make it seem like her death was a natural occurrence." The Baroness stated and handed Eddie a small duffle bag.

Eddie unzipped the bag and inspected its contents. It contained a set of blue medical scrubs and a small leather case. Setting the bag on the dewy grass, he opened the case to find a syringe and a glass vial of clear liquid.

"It's untraceable and will take effect forty-eight hours after administered. This will provide ample time for you to make your retreat without being detected. I doubt the police will check the security recordings more than twenty-four hours prior to her death." The Baroness waited for Eddie's response.

"What happens after I eliminate this target?" Eddie asked. The Baroness cocked her head as well as her eyebrows.

"After this target you will have one more." She paused and locked eyes with Eddie. "And after that, you are free."

"Free?" He asked with a small whisper.

"Correct. If you eliminate your next targets, your obligation to Cobra will be fulfilled." She watched intently as Eddie processed what she had just said.

A small smile grew on his face and he seemed to puff out his chest. Nodding to the Baroness, he put his phone back in his jacket and picked up the small duffle bag.

"Access to the service entrance is around the west side of the Medical Center on the second floor. There is a fire escape that runs up the side of the building to a door where you can enter with your badge. The ICU is located on the seventh floor." The Baroness stated.

With another short nod, Eddie walked past the Baroness to the end of the Rugby field toward the Medical Center. Dimly lit before him was the entrance to a dirt path that ran up through the woods to the hospital. Before hiking up the path, Eddie took one last look back at the rugby field. The tall slender outline of the Baroness remained silent and still, standing in the middle of the darkened green.

Eddie stood in the back of the hospital elevator behind a rolling laundry cart. It was halfway through the third shift, and the nurses and doctors he passed simply ignored him, preoccupied with other business, or just trying to get through the work night.

The elevator bell rang, and the doors swung open as it reached the seventh floor. Eddie rolled the laundry cart out onto a white vinyl tile. Light blue arrows were imprinted on the floor pointing down the hallway, directing family and staff to the ICU.

With his head down, Eddie walked down the corridor through two sets of double doors until he reached the entrance to the ICU. A key card display panel was mounted on the left wall. Eddie wheeled his cart over and unclipped his badge. Before he pressed his badge against the panel, the doors to the ICU opened and a mother and daughter walked out hugging each other, crying softly.

They paid no attention to Eddie as he slipped past. Eddie walked down the hall, toward a whiteboard that listed shift assignments for the nurses. Mounted to the right of the whiteboard was also a chart that listed the patients and their room assignments. As he passed, he scanned quickly, making note of where Carrie's room was.

Moving down the halls undetected, he arrived at Carrie's room, parked his cart outside, and walked in. The room was quiet. The only sound was the soft beeping of the EKG. Carrie slept peacefully. Her arms lay motionless by her sides. A large bandage was wrapped around her right shoulder and Eddie could see the bulge of additional bandages around her stomach. Her head was also bandaged, and she had scrapes on her forehead and cheek.

A breathing tube protruded from her mouth and connected to a clear pump that rose and fell with each breath. The underside of her left arm was pierced with an IV tube that ran up to a large bag of fluid that dangled from a metal pole. Eddie reached into his pants pocket and removed the small leather case.

Popping off the top of the syringe with his teeth, Eddie pierced the tip of the needle through the glass vile, held it upright, and pulled back on the plunger. He watched as the lethal cocktail filled the barrel. Carefully, he inserted the needed into the port of the IV tube and pressed down on the plunger. Eddie quickly put everything back into the case and strolled out of the room and the ICU. In two days, he would receive his final target and assignment. Then, he would have his freedom.

Chapter 12

Flint and Father McCabe sat around his small maple coffee table in the middle of Flint's cabin. The small, one room lodge was situated on the south side of Sugar Peak Mountain, looking down on Lakeside. It was mid-day, and the lake was calm, with the waves reduced to a soft ripple.

Flint sat sunken into his chair wearing his worn leather bomber jacket and a pair of blue jeans. Father McCabe was adorned in his customary black slacks, short sleeved clergy shirt, and collar. The Father had taken out his worn wooden pipe and habitually began scraping the inside clean. Sherriff Douglas's funeral had just concluded, and Flint was searching for some semblance of peace.

He and Sherriff Douglas had become close since the first incident at Lakeside two years ago, and deep in the recesses of Flint's stomach, he had a feeling something was going to happen again. He looked to the back of the cabin at his cast iron stove. Steam had begun to angrily scream from the French press and Flint rose and removed the press from the stove, resting it on the small counter. As he walked back over to the table, Father McCabe broke the silence.

"Care for a game of checkers?" He asked Flint. Flint sat back down looking at the Father with suspicion.

"Why, do you think it would make me feel better to get beaten by you again?" Flint asked, glad for the light conversation compared to the eulogies that dominated the morning service.

"Well, I know it would make me feel better." Father McCabe replied chuckling to himself.

Flint returned a small smile and nodded. The Father happily clasped his hands and walked to a bookcase built into the left wall of the cabin. Moving past a row of pots and pans, Father McCabe grabbed the small folded checkerboard. Turning back to Flint, he held up his pipe.

"Can I smoke inside?" He asked.

"As long as you open the door and face the fan out towards the lake. Probably a good thing to have it open with the heat." Flint replied.

As Father McCabe walked to open the door, it swung wide, startling him. Flint rose quickly, also surprised by the unexpected visitor. He relaxed as General Spirit somberly walked through. The General wore his cowboy hat adorned with a beaded eagle and two long feathers that ran out the back. He had on a black western-style Scully shirt with embroidery running across the chest and sleeves.

"Gentleman." The General greeted both men and walked slowly to face Flint. Spirit put his hand on Flint's shoulder and gave it a tender squeeze.

"Flint. I'm sorry about the Sherriff. He was a good man." Spirit stated.

"It's never easy when one of the good ones are taken." Father McCabe added. Spirit turned to Father McCabe.

"The service was reminiscent, sympathetic, and hopeful. Thank you for that." Spirit stated.

Father McCabe returned a smile and walked back to the table and sat down. Filling his pipe with three pinches of his Virginia tobacco, the Father struck a match on the side of the table, and swiftly brought it atop the chamber, igniting it in a golden glow. Soon, he was puffing happily.

"What brings you to my neck of the woods?" Flint asked.

"Unfortunately, I have more heartbreak to share. I just got word that Deborah's assistant Carrie Mullin died at the hospital a few hours ago." Spirit stated. Father McCabe's puffing abruptly stopped smoking and shook his head sadly.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph." He whispered.

The room fell silent. Flint thought back to his conversation with Jason about Sherriff Douglas being the intended target. Now, Deborah's assistant was dead. While Carrie was fighting against a heavy set of odds for survival, the pit of his stomach rumbled. Something wasn't adding up.

"I think this is just the beginning." Flint stated and walked back to the French press that was cooling on the sink counter. Removing three tin mugs, Flint poured the brewed coffee and brought them to the table with a jar of cream.

"You are more right than you think." Spirit said, pausing for a few moments before continuing. He looked at Flint with an expression that was both sensitive and cautious.

"The Baroness is here." Spirit stated.

Flint dropped his mug slightly. Reeling from the sudden shock, he tipped his cup right side up, and fell into his chair. He looked up at Spirit.

"How do you know?" Flint asked.

"She has allied with Deborah Minh and her campaign base, pledging Saturn Industries rapid response rescue resources. The initial result was a decent jump in Deborah's approval rating." Spirit stated.

"What is the Baroness's interest with Deborah Minh's campaign?" Flint asked.

"As usual, she has covered her tracks at this point, but it's impossible for me to believe that the deaths of Sherriff Douglas and Carrie Mullin are unrelated." Spirit said.

"Why do you believe the Baroness is responsible?" Father McCabe interjected.

"Because wherever she goes, people die." Flint stated.

"Flint." Spirit interrupted. "You're going to have to sit this one out for now. I can confirm the Baroness does not know of our presence, but if you were to reveal yourself, well, that would make things difficult…" Spirit trailed off and dropped his head embarrassingly. Father McCabe cocked his head as he tried to read the room.

"You're making me ride the pine?" Flint asked, a little agitated.

"Just for now." Spirit replied, holding his hands up, gesturing Flint to calm himself. "The relationship between you and the Baroness is…complicated." Spirit stated awkwardly.

"Relationship?" Father McCabe asked chidingly as he unfolded the checkerboard and started setting up the pieces. Spirit pulled up a chair and took a seat at the table.

"Yes, Father. A relationship, relationship. Obviously, you can see how this would compromise our position among other things." Spirit replied.

"Yes, I could see how that could happen." The Father stated as he moved one of his black pieces forward on the checkerboard. He was completely engrossed in the General's conversation.

"So, what's the plan?" Flint asked, trying to change the conversation.

"You contacted Mainframe to review the surveillance from the Sherriff's murder, correct?" Spirit asked. Flint nodded in reply.

"Good. Whoever her patsy is, Mainframe will find them." Spirit concluded.

"Patsy?" Father McCabe asked, moving his checker piece up the board.

"The Baroness leads what is left of the defunct Cobra terrorist organization. She would never risk getting her hands dirty. Odds are, she has put someone in play to carry out her orders." Spirit said.

"So once Mainframe locates the stooge, I take point, right?" Flint asked.

"No. That mission will be given to Blue Jaye." Spirit replied blankly. Flint shifted in his chair.

"Is she ready?" Flint asked pessimistically. She was still just a trainee.

"She will finish her training shortly, then rendezvous with us here. Your job is to support her and keep your distance." Spirit stated.

"You don't think she'll fail?" Flint asked. Father McCabe jumped two of Flint's pieces.

"No, I don't." Spirit replied, still staring at Flint.

Father McCabe looked at Flint who had a curious expression across his face. He was genuinely concerned. He knew Blue Jaye was like a young niece who Flint had vowed to protect.

"She will be ready." Spirit added reassuringly and confidently.

"King me." Father McCabe said as one of his checker pieces reached the kings line on Flint's side of the board. Flint kinged the piece. Father McCabe then integrated himself into the conversation.

"Checkers is as straight forward as games come. It is one of the oldest games in fact, dating three thousand years before Christ Our Lord. However, play can unfold intricately. For example, take the act of kinging a player. The fact that a player must move to the other end of the board before being made a king suggests that royalty and power cannot simply be obtained at birth. It must be earned. So, one unsuspecting piece can make all the difference while gaining experience and power along the way." The Father paused before continuing.

"Also, if a player maneuvers their piece in a position to make multiple captures, the player has to choose which piece to capture, and which one to sacrifice." The Father jumped one piece and allowed Flint to capture the other.

"But…" Father McCabe continued as he completed a triple jump, eliminating most of Flint's pieces on the board and ensuring his victory. "If you make the right sacrifices, you can position yourself to gain the upper hand." The Father concluded, striking another match and bringing it to his pipe for a satisfying puff.

"So, you're saying to trust in Blue Jaye and her training?" Flint asked. The Father nodded as smoke poured out of the right side of his smile.

"And you are also saying that the Sherriff and Carrie's deaths will ultimately provide us the evidence that will lead to the killer's capture?" Spirit added. Father McCabe nodded again, but then removed the pipe and leaned on the table looking at both soldiers with an ominous stare.

"That is correct. But also remember, that people have been at war much longer than they have been playing checkers. If you can put yourself into the position to win, I bet your opponent also knows how to do the same."

Chapter 13

The Baroness walked up the marble stairs of Waterman Hall, the high heels of her Italian strapped sandals echoing up the empty stairwell. Classes at the university had ended for the day, and other than a few lone students and administrators, the building was empty. Outside, the summer afternoon sun was scorching, but the granite and marble that made up Waterman kept the building cool.

Reaching the top of the stairs, the Baroness turned down the corridor to Deborah Minh's office. Her cipria Egyptian cotton dress fell in an A-line silhouette to the floor. As she approached Deborah's door, the Baroness knocked gently before pushing through.

Deborah was seated at her desk staring listlessly at the wall. She wore a simple red summer dress that had started to wrinkle. Deborah rose as the Baroness entered and wiped down the front of herself trying to compose herself.

"Mrs. McCullen." Deborah mustered with a chalky voice. She reached out her hand and the Baroness took it and gave her a tender shake.

"Ms. Minh. I am so terribly sorry for the loss of your assistant Carrie. I wanted to stop by to personally extend my sympathies." The Baroness sat down as Deborah returned to her seat.

"Thank you. I truly appreciate it. I just don't understand why anyone would want to try to kill me. And poor Carrie. Why her? Why did she have to die? She just graduated. She was so innocent…" Deborah's voice began to shake as she choked up a little.

"When innocent people are killed, it never makes sense." The Baroness replied. "It always hurts, and regardless of the situation is hardly ever deserved." Her tone was truthful and empathetic. Deborah nodded her head and wiped a tear from her face. The Baroness leaned forward and continued.

"But now, this town and this state needs you more than ever. You, like Carrie, stand in opposition of whoever this killer represents. That is why you need continue with your campaign. You need to honor Carrie and the values she held." The Baroness stated. Deborah shifted in her seat.

"You're right. I've been sitting here asking myself how I could go on. I'm just scared. Wouldn't you be?" Deborah asked as more tears ran down her face.

"Absolutely." The Baroness replied. She stood up and walked briskly over to Deborah and stood behind her caressing her hair and shoulders in sympathy.

"I can't imagine what you are going through. I know you barely survived the incident here two years ago, so I am sure with everything else, you have to be dealing with immense amounts of stress. What are the police saying?" The Baroness asked.

"Not much. With the Sherriff's death, I think they are a little out of synch. The new Sherriff, Jason Smith, he is a good man, but I don't have faith he will be able to provide the protection I need. He said they are going through surveillance and should have a suspect soon, but I don't believe him. The Primary is in three weeks. What happens if there is another attempt on my life then, or before?" Deborah had begun to crouch inward in her chair. The Baroness leaned down closer, continuing to calm her.

"My dear. That is why I am here. I am not sure if you are aware, but Saturn Industries provides support, relief, and resources all over the globe. In some of our overseas operations, we have had experience reinforcing political infrastructure and stability. I actually discussed this with the new Sherriff this morning, but he was not interested. However, just like you, I do not believe the local police can protect you. Sorry for being so blunt." The Baroness stated.

"No apologies necessary. We are in complete agreement." Deborah said. The shakiness in her voice had disappeared. "And you are here to offer me assistance?"

"Precisely. I can offer you a twenty-four-hour security detail that will be up and running by the end of the day. I can also provide additional manpower to ensure your victory rally after the Primary will be safe from any threat. In addition, Saturn will support your political endeavors, especially after losing someone as talented as Ms. Mullin." The Baroness replied.

"And what do you stand to gain with all this?" Deborah asked, wondering why the Baroness would be so generous.

"Ms. Minh. You and I share the same interests. I am shaken and angered by the attempt on your life. Because of this, I pledge my support, relief, and guidance. It would be against my nature if I stood back and did nothing." The Baroness answered.

"And what would this cost?" Deborah asked. She believed the Baroness but wondered how all this additional support would be budgeted.

"From now until election day in November, we will provide what you need pro bono. If you are satisfied with our services, we can review budget options. Obviously when you win, you will have access to more funding." The Baroness leaned back and folded her arms waiting for Deborah to respond.

"Ok, Mrs. McCullen. I will accept your offer and please, accept my thanks as well. I was at a loss this morning, but now, I am feeling hopeful for the first time since Carrie's death. There is just one condition, ok?" She asked. The Baroness raised her head inquisitively.

"What would that be?" The Baroness said.

"That you stay on personally as my primary advisor. With your experience, it would be invaluable." Deborah stated. The Baroness uncrossed her arms and smiled wide.

"Ms. Minh. I would be pleased to stay on and help." The Baroness answered. She then walked around the desk and removed her phone from her bag and began scrolling through.

"I will get the resources up and running right now. You will hear from me in an hour when your security detail lands at the airport. Also, even though it is three weeks away, we will need to start planning for the Primary. If I am right, and you are victorious, your rally will be a raucous event, and we will need to be prepared."

"Of course. What do you need from me?" Deborah asked, grateful for the Baroness's support.

"Right now, I just need the rally's time and location so we can start outlining the security detail." The Baroness paused and looked at Deborah with a finger above the screen of her phone. Deborah shook her head as if trying to wake herself out of a daze.

"Yes, so sorry. Actually, the police told me to keep the location of the rally a secret until a day before." Deborah stated.

"That is smart and makes a lot of sense." The Baroness said, waiting patiently.

"Right. What is currently published is that the rally is happening at the Waterfront Boathouse starting at eight. However, the actual location will be at the Theater Hall by Battery Park. Our plan is to post a last-minute change the day before the Primary." Deborah answered, wondering if the Baroness would approve of the current course of action.

"A sound plan. At least the police are making the right decisions. And please understand, even though I share your pessimism and uneasiness about your local police, at Saturn, our goal is to work with local law enforcement. So, I think it is good to follow their current plan of action." The Baroness said.

Deborah looked relieved. The Baroness leaned over the desk and extended her hand again. Deborah quickly took it and gave a firm shake. She was now smiling confidently. The Baroness nodded and turned to walk out the door.

"One hour, and you should hear from me with instructions." The Baroness stated facing Deborah one last time before leaving. Deborah nodded and raised her hand in agreement as the Baroness walked out the door.

The Baroness's heels made sharp snaps and clacks as she hurried down the marble staircase. She removed her phone and swiped the screen until she came to an app titled Cipher. She pressed it, revealing a blank red screen. Then, a line of text appeared which read, Enter Location. The Baroness quickly typed Lakeside Theater Hall. The Baroness then entered the date of the Primary, and the time Deborah provided.

The text on the screen changed to read, Enter Target Name. Without hesitation, the Baroness typed Deborah Minh, and clicked the option to send. She had just sent Eddie Langstrom his final target, and the Baroness smiled, realizing she could finally move forward with her overall objective.

Chapter 14

Blue Jaye reached the edge of Plover Cove a little before sunrise. The first shades of orange and yellow began to fade into the horizon as the night sky hung on to its last breaths of starlight. The tide had gently started to recede, and the surf frothed and bubbled as it spread out on the soft wet sand. The beach narrowed as the shoreline cut sharply inward around a group of rocks.

Barnacles and seaweed clung to all sides of the boulders and the crashing waves created a mist which spread out in the air. Blue Jaye put her sandals on, secured Sparrow Hawk behind her shoulder, and carefully maneuvered around the crags. Once past, she followed a sandy path flanked by rising dunes and high blades of grass swaying in the morning breeze.

The path led her down to an inlet with an abandoned pier rotting out into the sea. Small white and gray plover birds hopped happily on the grass and sand, poking around, looking for a morning snack. As she walked toward the dilapidated pier, Blue Jaye saw Tommy sitting cross-legged in the sand, meditating.

The glow from the morning sunrise spread an expansive shade of magenta across the skyline. Tommy slowly opened his eyes as Blue Jaye approached. She noticed that he had a long black bow placed in front of him. Like Sparrow Hawk, the bow looked ancient and powerful. She sat down cross legged and placed Sparrow Hawk in front of her. Tommy smiled peacefully.

"I have been in contact with your General, and he told me he will be here in three weeks. We have until then to get you ready." He replied.

"Three weeks? It took Dusty almost two years to get me where I am." Blue Jaye exclaimed, now jumping up to her feet.

"Breathe." He commanded. Blue Jaye closed her eyes and started inhaling and exhaling deeply.

"It is ok to be scared. You can't be brave if you are not scared." Tommy said quietly. Blue Jaye stared back at him.

"You know. I'm not meant for this. I am not a soldier. I am an investigator. A journalist. Every morning I wake up wondering if I made a huge mistake." Blue Jaye said.

"All true. But that doesn't mean you can't be the person Spirit sees in you. How do you know that person isn't who you are meant to be?" Tommy replied, standing up.

"Ok, I get it, but that still doesn't make it any easier." Blue Jaye replied, a little dejected.

"No, I can only assume it makes things harder." Tommy stated. Blue Jaye looked at him curiously.

"Do you know where true strength comes from?" Tommy asked. Blue Jaye shook her head waiting for Tommy to continue.

"Strength comes from our hearts and minds. It comes from what we love and what we believe. Again, you can't be brave if you are not scared. You can't do anything until you overcome some level of fear." Tommy stated.

"Ok, I get you. So how do I learn to shoot Sparrow Hawk with my heart and mind?" Blue Jaye asked.

"By using what you love and believe in. Think deeply. Right now, what do you truly want? What makes you smile and laugh throughout the day? What do you yearn for, knowing that it makes you feel happy?" Tommy asked genuinely. Blue Jaye thought for a few moments before replying.

"Elise." She answered quietly.

"Who's Elise?" Tommy asked. Blue Jaye shifted her feet on the sand.

"My best friend. We were roommates in college, but she was paralyzed in an accident a little over two years ago." Blue Jaye said.

Tommy nodded silently. He stared up at Blue Jaye, waiting for her to continue.

"It's just, I haven't been able to call her and talk to her since I started training years ago. I miss her and…" She trailed off.

"And you feel guilty for her accident." Tommy stated.

Blue Jaye returned a small nod as tears began to stream down his face. Tommy stood up and put one of his leathered hands on her shoulder. Blue Jaye's head shot up, shocked at the rare sign of affection from the grumpy old ninja.

"It's not your fault. It took me almost a lifetime to realize that even the most terrible and polarizing moment in your life is no one's fault. It isn't logical, so our minds try to find someone to blame. More often than not, that person is us." Tommy took a moment as Blue Jaye wiped her eyes.

"When tragedy strikes, our lives are altered without our knowledge and approval. It's natural. However, to truly be able to move on, we must forgive ourselves and not let what we can't change destroy us. Two grow, we need to be grateful for who we are and who we love." Tommy paused. Blue Jaye slowly nodded.

"Tell me, when was the first time you met Elise?" Tommy asked. Blue Jaye looked up into the light blue sky. The sun had risen just above the horizon.

"It was my first week at Lakeside University. I grew up about fifty miles south in the small town of Brownfield. When I arrived at school, I didn't know anyone and was pretty homesick. My dad had encouraged me to attend some of the 'social mixers' as he called them, to try to meet new people. I took his advice and went to a party the journalism department was hosting. There I met Elise."

"She was also a journalism major. She had these two bright blue streaks in her hair that she would braid and tie back behind her head like a crown. I thought it was so cool." Blue Jaye blushed, embarrassingly running her fingers through her own blue hair. Tommy motioned to her hair.

"For Elise?" He asked. Blue Jaye nodded.

"Yes. After her accident, I colored it to remember her by. I haven't changed it since." She said. Tommy nodded and gestured for her to continue.

"Anyway, we just hit it off. From the first conversation we had, it was like we were long lost friends. We had the same interests in music, school, movies, everything. But it was more than us sharing the same interests. We even felt the same way, empathized with each other. We would do anything to protect one another. It was like meeting a sister I never had. I am not sure if you ever had anyone like that in your life?" Blue Jaye asked.

"Actually, I have." Tommy replied. Blue Jaye looked at him and his face revealed he was telling the truth.

"Your feelings about Elise are exactly what you need to unblock yourself and allow yourself to grow." Tommy stated.

"But how?" Blue Jaye asked. Tommy leaned down and took his bow. Blue Jaye took Sparrow Hawk in her hands.

"Let me show you." Tommy replied and started walking down the shore toward the deserted pier.

Blue Jaye followed and as they neared the pier, she saw two long rows of poles that stuck out of the surf leading out into the sea. Only a few planks from a boardwalk long gone rested precariously between the beams. The rest of the wooden poles stood solitary, stuck in the seabed and leaning from years of rising and falling tides.

Tommy stopped before one line of poles and strung his bow. He took a deep breath before swiftly raising the bow, aiming, and firing. Blue Jaye blinked in surprise as the entire movement took less than a second. She saw the arrow connect with the first beam, shattering it in a flurry of wooden splinters and spikes. The pole behind it also exploded and when the clouds of dust subsided, Blue Jaye saw the arrow sticking firmly into the third pole. She looked at Tommy with astonishment.

"That was awesome." She said plainly.

Tommy smiled and motioned for her to stand next to him. Moving her in front of the next line of wooden stakes, he handed her an arrow. She carefully strung Sparrow Hawk and pulled back on the line. She was surprised at how fluid the bow strung back. She fired, but the shot went wide, and chipped the side of the pole. Blue Jaye sunk her head low. Silently, Tommy positioned himself behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders.

"Position your stance like you do when you are peeling potatoes." Tommy instructed. Blue Jaye instinctually shifted her stance and began to bend her knees, leaning back and forth, transferring her weight until she found a steady balance.

"Now, hold the bow in your left arm and let its weight guide it out in front of you." Tommy said. Built up from all Dusty's push-ups, pull-ups, and kettle bell swings, Blue Jaye straightened her arm and flexed, reinforcing her grip, preparing to shoot.

"Good. Before you fire, close your eyes and breathe. Clear your mind. Then, think of the first time you met Elise. Feel those emotions. Let them take control. Then, let go." Tommy said and lifted his hands off her shoulders.

Blue Jaye closed her eyes and focused on the sea gulls that cawed from high above. She inhaled deeply. Then, she focused her mind on the gentle crashing of the waves. She exhaled. She felt the blue strands of her hair flutter across her brow. She inhaled.

She then remembered her old friend. She avoided thinking about the accident, and like Tommy said, focused back on the times before, when they would stay up late watching cheesy horror movies and making smores. She exhaled. She remembered when they used to sing karaoke late night at the bars. She remembered sitting out by the lake, taking in the sun. She inhaled. She thought back to when they didn't even need to talk to each other to enjoy each other's company. Blue Jaye exhaled a final time, opened her eyes, and fired.

The arrow shot straight ahead at breakneck speed before it stopped violently and abruptly. Small shards of wood exploded from the point of impact and Blue Jaye blinked when she saw the arrow had gone straight through the post, its tip protruding out the other side. She stared at the arrow, now stuck in the middle of the wooden pole. Blue Jaye looked back at Tommy with a goofy grin. Tommy couldn't suppress his laughter. Blue Jaye laughed too, genuinely happy and amazed at what she just did. Tommy walked over and patted her on the shoulder.

"Ok, now get practicing. You have three weeks." Tommy said proudly.

Tommy stood and watched Blue Jaye as she ran through her first quiver of arrows before he walked back to his pick-up truck. Chuckling to himself, he made his way to the cab and placed his bow inside. Before turning around, he spoke.

"You know for a tracker, you give yourself up pretty easily." Tommy said, finally turning around to face General Spirit who was now standing in front of him.

Spirit stood wearing his customary cowboy hat, a blue button-down shirt and a black leather vest. His bowie knife was strapped to his right thigh.

"It still doesn't explain how I constantly get the drop on you." Spirit replied before his mouth broke into a wide smile. Tommy laughed and walked over and gave his old friend a hug.

"It's good to see you Charlie." Tommy stated.

"You too my friend. It's been a while." Spirit replied, taking a step back.

"It has. I am sure Kimi will be excited to see you." Tommy said.

"I just came from your shop. She told me how to find you. You make some excellent fries." Spirit said.

Tommy motioned Spirit to take a seat in the passenger seat. Spirit got in and soon, the old pick-up was kicking up dust. Spirit turned to Tommy.

"Will Blue Jaye be ready?" He asked.

"She will be ready. Tell me Charlie, where did you find her?" Tommy asked.

"It was serendipitous really. Cobra reemerged up in Lakeside, Vermont two years ago and Blue Jaye found herself in the thick of it. She survived, helped us out, saved a bunch of lives. She has a knack for it so to speak." Spirit replied.

"She has no idea, does she? That she is a born leader?" Tommy asked, looking straight ahead at the road.

"No, but I am sure you can see it just as clearly as I." Spirit said.

Tommy turned the truck onto the main road and the two old soldiers sat in silence for the duration of the ride. As Tommy slowly pulled the pick-up into the garage, he turned to see Spirit had a handful of skeeball tokens.

"Care for a rematch?" Spirit asked cocking his brow.

"You're on." Tommy replied.

They both got out of the truck and walked toward the line of skeeball lanes and vendor carts. Kids and teenagers ran around and past them, yelling and laughing. They stood side-by-side each facing a short skeeball lane. Spirit counted the tokens and gave Tommy a handful.

"Twenty plays each. Whoever has the high score, wins." Spirit stated.

"I'm ready. Are you?" Tommy said chidingly.

"Why of course old friend, of course." Spirit replied and winked at Tommy before he put his first token in, grabbed a skeeball, and rolled it down the lane.

Chapter 15

Interim Sherriff Jason Smith sat in front of his desk, tapping a pencil on the aged wooden surface. Flint was heading over to meet him with the visual analyst he invited up from Boston. Jason looked at the external hard drive lying in front of him. The drive contained the surveillance videos from the railway station at the time of the shooting, and from the video from the Medical Center. Flint had requested at least a week's worth of tapes however, the railway station's equipment reset every twenty-four hours and the Medical Center recorded over their tapes from the previous day. Picking up the hard drive, Jason frowned. After a week of his officers reviewing the images, they had nothing. He was hoping Flint's contact would be able to find something that could help.

He put the hard drive down and picked up a manila folder titled Saturn Industries. Jason had spent the better part of the last two days researching everything he could about Saturn and its CEO, Anastasia McCullen. What Jason learned both impressed and concerned him.

From what he researched, Saturn was primarily invested providing in rapid response rescue resources in countries around the globe. They had operations in the States, Europe, China, and the Middle East. Their activity in the Middle East stirred the most controversy allying with agencies that had known terrorist ties. There were also allegations of Saturn supporting coups for pro-Russian factions in eastern Europe.

Still, the work they did in the United States and Central America was nothing but positive. Support for providing aid to countries reeling from earthquakes, flooding, hurricanes, and blizzards had garnered worldwide praise. Jason didn't know what to think. There was something about Anastasia McCullen that just didn't sit right. She was pleasant, but the look she gave him when he turned down her offer remained in the forefront of his mind. Flint knocked lightly on the door and walked in.

"My colleague landed at the airport a little while ago and will be here shortly." Flint stated.

"Thank you again for your help. Our current analysis has been frustrating to say the least." Jason replied feeling dejected.

"Mainframe has always been able to find the needle in the haystack so to speak. I am confident he will help us move forward." Flint said, taking a seat in front of the Sherriff before continuing.

"I also spoke with the General, and we have a suspect in the Sherriff's shooting and Carrie Mullin's death. Her name is Anastasia McCullen. She is the CEO of Saturn Industries which focuses on…" Flint said as Jason interrupted.

"…on rapid response rescue around the globe. They have also partnered with Deborah Minh's camp for at this moment, motives unknown." Jason finished Flint's sentence. Flint leaned back in his chair impressed.

"Mrs. McCullen stopped by a week ago." Jason continued. "She offered me aid from her security division."

"What did you say?" Flint asked, leaning in, listening intently.

"I was thankful but refused. Something about her was off. I felt like I couldn't trust her." Jason said.

"You can't." Flint stated bluntly. "Anastasia McCullen has another name that myself, the General, and our team have been familiar with for years. The Baroness."

"The Baroness?" Jason asked, unfamiliar with who she was.

"The Baroness was the top lieutenant for the now defunct terrorist organization known as Cobra. Cobra operated across the globe during their heyday in the eighties and nineties. Their common goal was to find a volatile political situation and play both sides, profiting from the resulting chaos. Once the resources were spent, Cobra would seize the remaining entities under their control." Flint stated.

"Eventually, we captured the head of Cobra and the organization scattered and lost its influence. The Baroness, however, was able to merge many of Cobra's resources into M.A.R.S., her husband, James McCullen Destro XXIV's organization. M.A.R.S. aided Cobra, providing them with arms and technological resources. Shortly after, James McCullen died of heart failure and his widow, Anastasia took over as acting CEO. Surprisingly, Anastasia moved M.A.R.S. away from arm sales and built the organization into a legitimate business empire, rebranding their mission to encompass rescue and response. She renamed it Saturn Industries, and is now one of the most influential people in the world." Flint concluded.

Jason took a few moments to process what Flint had just told him. Everything that had worried him about Anastasia McCullen was just validated. He looked to Flint whose serious expression remained.

"So, what do you think the Baroness's interest is with Deborah Minh's campaign?" Jason asked.

"I don't know. But since she has arrived, Sherriff Douglas has been assassinated, and Deborah's campaign manager is dead. She is extremely intelligent and resourceful, and I doubt she will leave any trail for us to find. However, if we can stop whoever is carrying out her orders, we might be able to thwart her overall goal." Flint said.

"What do you think that goal is?" Jason questioned. Flint shook his head.

"We have no idea. Again, she is extremely smart, and will wait only until it benefits her to reveal her plans. That is why it is imperative to capture her scapegoat. What did you tell her?" Flint asked.

"Only what we have informed the general public. That we think Deborah was the target and that the investigation is open and ongoing." Jason said, wondering if he had said the right thing. Flint let out a sigh of relief and slunk back in his chair.

"Good. As of this moment, she is unaware that the General or I are assisting you. That gives us an upper hand and allows us to operate under the radar." Flint said, straightening himself up again.

"There's one other thing. The General has ordered me to sit this one out…for now." Flint stated, grimacing a bit.

"Why…?" Jason asked.

"The Baroness and I have…history." Flint replied.

The way Flint said history, Jason instantly knew what he meant. Jason however, remained silent, respecting Flint and allowing him to continue.

"If I was to get involved, there would be a good chance our cover and advantage would be blown. I can provide you guidance from a distance, but until the General changes the playbook, that's all I can do." Flint stated.

Jason nodded, knowing that there was no way around the General's orders. It was devastating news, and he had no idea how he was going to do this on his own.

"The General is sending someone to help." Flint said encouragingly.

Jason perked his head up and a brief shade of hope crossed his face.

"She will be here in a few days." Flint said.

Jason gave a thumbs up to Flint, trying to stay positive. The Sherriff's assistant Ellen then walked through the door and informed him that a man by the name of Patrick Pinney was here to see him. She said he had a large rolling cart full of equipment and was setting up in the conference room.

"That's Mainframe." Flint stated and stood up.

"Thank you, Ellen. Flint and I will be there to meet him shortly." Jason said and with a brief nod, his assistant was out the door. Jason grabbed the small hard drive from his desk. Flint turned to him on their way out.

"Mainframe will find who we are looking for. But you have to keep him on track. He likes to talk a lot." Flint said.

The Sherriff and Flint walked down a short corridor into a small conference room with an oval table surrounded by padded office chairs. A short, stout man, was milling around the table, setting up a laptop and other equipment. He had neatly cut dark brown hair that fit snuggly around his round face. Clean shaven, he wore a white cotton polo that was tucked under his protruding gut into a pair of tan khakis. There was an M.I.T. logo embroidered on the right breast of his shirt.

The man had unpacked two monitors and was connecting them to a large box that looked like a small suitcase. As they entered, his chubby sunken cheeks rose into a wide smile, revealing two rows of large, white teeth. Hoping around the chairs, he took Flint's hand and forcibly pulled him in for an awkward hug. Flint gently patted his back. He then suddenly pulled himself back.

"Flint! It is so good to see you again. I had heard you were up here and was even more excited to hear you needed my help. You know that I would do anything for you and Jaye." Mainframe paused before continuing.

"It has been almost fifteen years since I have seen you. I am thinking, that is a long time. But not that long when you actually think about it. Did you know that Chicen Itza down in South America took 400 years to build? The first stone was laid in 600 AD. Also, it was built so that during a vernal equinox, the shadows casted on its steps display a serpent. I remember visiting way back in eighty-nine when…"

"Mainframe! It's good to see you too. We are dealing with a serious situation here right now and really need your expertise." Flint said, cutting Mainframe off.

"I heard. Thanks for getting me up to speed. The General said the Baroness is here?" Mainframe asked. Flint responded quickly before Mainframe could continue.

"Yes. But right now, she is unaware of our presence. The plan is to keep it that way." Flint stated, looking to Mainframe for confirmation.

"Well if that is the case, then you better stay out of sight." Mainframe joked hesitantly.

Jason let out a short laugh that he poorly tried to disguise as a cough. Flint and Mainframe looked at him standing in the doorway. Jason walked over and reached out his hand toward Mainframe.

"Mr. Pinney, Sherriff Jason Smith. I can't thank you enough for coming." Jason said as Mainframe shook his hand and gave a short affirming nod.

"Sherriff. Please, call me Mainframe. Thank you for inviting me. Back down in Boston, I work at M.I.T. as an adjunct professor, mainly in the Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence Lab, or C.S.A.I.L. But mostly, I just grade papers and take long walks down the Charles. My favorite place to walk is over the Longfellow Bridge. Do you know what the bridge's nickname is? The salt-and-pepper bridge. It's because there are these large towers in the middle that look like salt and pepper shakers. Also, when you cross over into Boston, the Mass Eye and Ear Infirmary kinda looks like a giant French fry box…" Mainframe continued as Jason stood not knowing how or when to interject. Flint interrupted again to keep Mainframe on track.

"That's fascinating. Jaye and I walked over that bridge many times. But moving on to the task at hand. Sherriff, I believe that you have a hard drive for Mainframe?" Flint stated, prompting Jason to produce the hard drive.

Mainframe took the hard drive and then opened the electronic case on the table. The case unfolded into two large bins. One bin contained a keyboard and an antenna, which Mainframe extended. Mainframe then plugged the hard drive into one of the ports. He then reached into the other bin and unfolded a small computer screen. The screen flashed, and after a few moments, the letters S.I.G.H.T. faded onto the screen. Flint and Jason walked behind Mainframe to get a closer look.

"This is one of my new inventions that I call S.I.G.H.T. It stands for Synchronized, Image, Grading, Highlight, Tracker." The screen blinked and a window appeared listing the video files that were on the hard drive. Mainframe turned to the Sherriff.

"Are these the surveillance videos?" Mainframe asked.

"Yes. The first files are from the security cameras from the railway station where the shooting occurred. The next are from the hospital where the second victim was killed." The Sherriff stated. Mainframe nodded.

"How did the killer murder the second victim?" Mainframe asked.

"That's just it." Flint interjected. "There is no evidence that she died of anything other than natural causes. But with the Baroness here, it only makes sense.

"So, you want to see if I can identify a suspect that appears at both sites?" Mainframe asked.

"That's correct." Jason answered. "Right now, we haven't had any luck. The railway station's cameras reset every twenty-four hours. We were able to get them before they reset for the day, but we have nothing to compare them to. The hospital's videos taped over from the previous day. We have had a team reviewing these but haven't had any luck." Jason said.

"No to worry, that is why Flint called his buddy Mainframe." Mainframe stated smiling widely at Flint. Flint patted him on the shoulder.

"Ok, let's get to work." Mainframe stated and his fingers began clacking away at the keyboard. Soon, the monitor flashed, and rows of surveillance videos appeared on the screen.

"Sherriff, what is the address of the railway station please?" Mainframe asked.

The Sherriff replied as Mainframe furiously typed it on to the keyboard. One of the large monitors on the table turned on, displaying an electronic schematic of the city block where the shooting occurred. A solid green dot blinked that was labeled Lakeside Railway Station. The Sherriff could see many other lights blinking in the buildings surrounding the railway station.

"Look." Mainframe stated as he pointed at the screen. "The green light represents the railway station and their surveillance system. That is the video that we currently have. These other lights indicate other surveillance cameras that we don't have."

"Cameras we don't have?" The Sherriff asked.

"Correct. See here." Mainframe pointed to the building across the railway station with a flashing light. "This apartment building actually has a camera at the top of the stairwell by a window that looks out onto the lake." With a few clicks of the keyboard, a new set of videos appeared displaying the entrance of the railway station from the apartment building next door.

"Will you look at that. Amazing." The Sherriff said.

"These other dots indicate additional camera feeds from security cameras in other apartment buildings." Mainframe said. With a few more strokes on the keyboard, a multitude of new images and videos feeds filled the screen.

"The S.I.G.H.T. can identify any video feed that a company or resident makes available for emergency situations based on the stipulations they agree to when installing the security equipment. Many of these feeds are automatically archived so there is no need to worry about the surveillance resetting." Mainframe continued.

"After identifying all available feeds, the system uses multiple mathematical algorithms to search, identify, and parse, images based on color and movement. If you give it enough data over an extended period of time, it can identify anomalies in a daily, or a weekly cycle. For example, after reviewing a week's worth of surveillance in a particular area, the S.I.G.H.T. will learn the daily routines and movements in that location, like people getting up in the morning, going and leaving from work. All daily work habits are all captured, analyzed and predicted. The S.I.G.H.T. then compares that routine behavior against any anomalies." Mainframe stated.

"Anomalies like someone doing something or being somewhere that is out of the location's normal routine? Like our killer?" Jason asked, trying to follow along with Mainframe.

"Exactly." Mainframe exclaimed, clapping his hands in his chair. He continued.

"If we can get enough data, the S.I.G.H.T. will learn the daily habits and movements of the individuals in a specific area and then spit out images of anyone or anything who is breaking those everyday patterns." Mainframe paused.

"Incredible." The Sherriff stated.

"It is isn't it?" Mainframe replied, looking back toward the Sherriff smiling proudly. "Let's see what we can find." Mainframe said as he clicked away at the keyboard, and the videos on the monitor started to scan. The images began to blur as they streamed across the screen. After a few moments, four images appeared on the monitor.

"Ok, it looks like we have four matches. Now, let's compare these to the video feeds from the hospital." Mainframe entered Lakeside Medical Center into the S.I.G.H.T. and a new electronic map appeared that displayed a blueprint of the hospital.

Like the previous map, there were small green lights flashing on the screen indicating all the surveillance feeds available. The Sherriff pointed at a flashing light on the floor of the ICU.

"What is this video? This is on the floor where the second victim was located." The Sherriff stated hastily. Mainframe went back to the keyboard.

"Looks like an ATM." Mainframe said.

"Can you get that?" The Sherriff asked.

After another round of clicks on the keyboard, a new series of videos streamed across the monitor. As the system processed the data, Mainframe turned back to the Sherriff and Flint.

"The S.I.G.H.T. is comparing the matches from the railroad station to the feed from the hospital. It will look at skin pigmentation, movement and gestures. In a few moments we will see if there are any matches." The program finished its scan.

"Looks like we got one." Mainframe said.

The image that appeared on the screen was of a woman in a green dress walking through a door with a tall man standing behind her. The video was in color, and in surprisingly good quality. Mainframe zoomed in on the woman in green.

"The woman in the green dress is someone the S.I.G.H.T. identified as entering the ICU at the same time every weekday. She probably works on the floor. However, the gentleman behind her was recorded only once. His skin pigmentation and movement match what we have from the railroad station. Mainframe zoomed in.

"There he is." The Sherriff said.

The man in the image was about six feet tall. He was lanky, but the way the blue scrubs fell around his shoulders revealed a chiseled and conditioned set of forearms. His high cheek bones darkened his eyes around his scraggily hair.

"Run this through our facial recognition software. I'll call the General." Flint stated. The Sherriff removed the printout from the tray and clenched one corner in his fist as he stared at it. The paper had begun to rustle as he squeezed it tight.

"What's the next move?" The Sherriff asked eagerly.

"Now, we start canvasing the area, but quietly. We'll heighten security around Deborah and be on the lookout for anyone fitting this description." Flint replied.

The Sherriff and Mainframe nodded, staring intently at the image on the screen.

"We got you, you bastard." The Sherriff whispered.

Chapter 16

Lakeside Theatre Hall sat on a lush green slope, looking out onto the water and the Adirondacks. The vintage marquee was lit up, beckoning patrons through its golden arched entrance, decorated in hundreds of yellow, white, and orange light bulbs. In the middle of the marquee was a letter board that showcased the upcoming event. The letters spelled out, Lakeside Primary Rally, D. Minh, Tuesday, Sold Out.

A steady stream of workers, security, and campaign volunteers streamed in and out of the entrance, frantically getting the last-minute details in order. A checkered marble floor laid across the vestibule and lobby. Large pillars rose up the interior walls to the twenty-foot-high ceilings covered in gold leaf paint. Along the left side of the lobby were two ticket boxes. The right wall was adorned by four wooden promotion boxes. The cases looked like large cabinets, each with a painted sign that read, Coming Soon. Below the signs, were hand-carved comedy and tragedy masks sculpted into the frame.

As people filed into the theatre, Deborah Minh and Anastasia McCullen were standing with Sherriff Smith by the first row of house seats. Around and above the stage were carved decorations, painted in gold leaf. Gold trim also lined the luxury boxes that rose up toward the balcony.

The Sherriff had insisted that his men accompany Deborah's new security detail as they inspected every inch of the playhouse. As the Baroness had promised, she and her team agreed to all of the Sherriff's demands without any resistance. The Sherriff pointed to the ceilings, high above the balcony.

"Once we finish sweeping the seats and aisles, I want to move up into those catwalks and the control room." The Sherriff stated. He frowned when he looked toward the Baroness. "I am sure your people will want to follow?"

"Of course, but I will tell them to stay out of your way. If you need any assistance, we are glad to help." The Baroness offered.

"We have ample resources, thank you." The Sherriff said. He had tried his best to minimize eye contact with the Baroness and focus on the task at hand.

Deborah had noticed the sudden change in the Sherriff's behavior but brushed it off, knowing how stressed out everyone was with the Primary coming up in a couple days. Her stomach had started to knot from the anticipation and stress.

With the support of Saturn's new security team, Deborah felt protected and safe however, it was still extremely difficult for her to relax. Looking up at the hundreds of police and security, she wondered how anyone would be able to get through. She had been assured that all entrances would be monitored and blocked, and that state-of-the art detectors would be brought in that could identify any weapons made of metal or composite material.

She looked up at Anastasia McCullen who wore a pair of tinted glasses and a long black pashmina shawl that wrapped around a gray silken dress that fell right above her knees. Her silver hair draped freely down her back. With a long slender arm, she reached out and gently tapped the Sherriff on the shoulder.

"Sherriff. Deborah and I have some planning to attend to before tonight's gala. If it is alright with you, would it be possible if we could talk privately in one of the dressing rooms? I know that our teams have already searched and cleared those areas." The Baroness asked politely.

"Yes, I suppose that is ok. You will both need to remain in the theatre until we conclude our sweep. We will have a debrief after that I would like you and your head of security of attend." The Sherriff stated, resting both hands on his hips and holster.

"Of course." The Baroness replied, playfully reaching out and giving the Sherriff another pat to the shoulder.

While the Sherriff was clearly disturbed by the Baroness's presence, Deborah noticed how her charm could always unarm anyone.

"Thank you, Sherriff. I truly mean that. You saved my life, and Mrs. McCullen's. We owe you our debt. We will be in Dressing Room B if you need anything." Deborah added.

The Baroness guided Deborah backstage into the dressing room. The room was sparse with a folding screen divider standing in front of a closet full of costumes and props. To the left, a gold-plated dressing room mirror hung from the wall with six large bulbs placed along the sides.

Deborah sat in the chair as the Baroness walked behind the changing screen and into the closet. Pulling out a long garment bag, the Baroness unzipped it, revealing a pair of black slacks and a dark red suit jacket. The Baroness looked toward Deborah holding up the jacket.

"Is this is what you are wearing for the rally on Tuesday night?" The Baroness asked, carefully removing the jacket.

"Yes. Is there something wrong? If you think I should wear something else, we still have time." Deborah said, concerned. The Baroness shook her head.

"It is fine. I will have my security team sew a thin layer of body armor in the lining. Our research and development department has been working on a woven fiber that is ten times stronger than kevlar. It is light weight too. You won't even notice it." The Baroness said, holding the suit jacket up and examining the inside.

"I thought you said that the killer wouldn't be able to get into the theatre. Now you are having me wear body armor?" Deborah asked, her voice a little frantic and scared.

"No need to worry. An emergency precaution. We can lose the body armor if you like?" She asked Deborah.

"No, you're right." Deborah replied shaking her head. "Better to be safe than sorry."

"That's the spirit." The Baroness replied. "Now, at tonight's gala, in addition to your familiar group of donors, guests, and support staff, I have also invited two gentlemen who could be a huge support to your campaign and platform."

"Who are they?" Deborah asked, leaning toward the Baroness curiously.

"The first is a man by the name of Phineas Hunter. He was born and raised in Australia but has been working in Germany for the past decade focusing on renewable energy, specifically in harnessing wind power through a new type of turbine. The other man is Dr. Alphonso Snakes, but do not let the name fool you..." The Baroness said as Deborah interrupted her.

"Not at all. I know of Dr. Snakes. A world renown animal activist, his efforts ensuring that endangered species are protected have paved the way for a whole new generation of environmental and animal activists. How do you know them?" Deborah asked.

"Both men have been associates with Saturn for years helping our clients find ways to protect their lands and harness affordable energy resources." The Baroness replied.

"That would be incredible to meet them and discuss how they can help our cause. How can I ever thank you?" Deborah asked.

"My dear Mrs. Minh. You do not need to thank me at all. Again, we are partners and I am just helping increase your influence to accomplish our goals. Do not worry. Now, review your speech while I head back to attend to the anxious Sherriff. If you need any encouragement, just think, in two days, we will have our victory." The Baroness said encouragingly.

Deborah sat in front of the dressing mirror and turned on the lights. Looking down at her note cards, she smiled confidently. For the first time since the shooting, she felt alive and hopeful.

• • •

The moon had risen high in the sky. A light cloud cover had started to move across its face as the hour drew close to midnight. The Baroness walked under the marquee of the Theatre Hall which had been turned off for hours. She was dressed in her long black trench coat, holding a medium sized duffle bag. She pulled out her keys and unlocked the door. Before entering, she turned and spoke into the shadows of the alleyway that ran alongside the theatre.

"Quickly." She whispered as Eddie Langstrom emerged out of the obscurity.

The Baroness swung the double doors open and they both hurried into the blackened lobby. She walked straight toward the wooden promotion boxes that contained posters marketing the events that were coming soon. She stopped in front of the box farthest away from the entrance to the theatre. Eddie looked up at the carved comedy and tragedy masks that were staring back at him. The Baroness broke the silence.

"This theatre was built in 1930 and was originally purposed as a playhouse for vaudeville acts. Even though it was commissioned during the Great Depression, Lakeside University, as well as Vermont's booming textile and lumber industries, protected the Green Mountain state from the brunt of the economic collapse. At the time, the governor, mayor of Lakeside, and a few wealthy residents provided funding for the theatre to be built. One of those affluent contributors went by the name of Donald Stewart." The Baroness paused to see if the name was familiar to Eddie. He shook his head, indicating he didn't know who the person was.

"Donald Stewart was a recluse whose wealth and lineage came from the centuries old House of Stewart, in Scotland. My late husband's family, whom I am sure you are aware of, have been an ally with the House of Stewart dating before the 1300s."

"Donald Stewart's passion was, as I am sure you have already guessed, the theatre. His father Connor was one of the architects for the Royal Lyceum in Edinburgh. The Stewards even helped design a small stone playhouse that resides on the McCullen Estate back in Scotland. The lobby there is nearly identical to the one here in Lakeside." The Baroness said as she moved closer to the promotion box.

"Like I said earlier, Donald Stewart was a recluse. In fact, reclusiveness was a trait with many of the Stewarts. In many of their structures they built private entrances and rooms that would allow them to enjoy the performances in private." The Baroness reached above the top of the cabinet and began sliding her fingertips across the wooden sill.

Her hand stopped on the top corner of the cabinet and after a short click, the large wooden promotion box swung open revealing a dark opening. A waft of aged and musty air greeted Eddie and the Baroness as they peered through. Eddie turned to the Baroness, surprised and impressed.

"Our theatre hall in Scotland has a secret passage with the same entryway. When I first stepped into this lobby, I knew it was here. There should be a staircase that ascends to a small room situated between the balconies." She said and produced a small flashlight from her bag and turned it on.

Shining the light in the darkness, she illuminated the base of an iron spiral staircase. The Baroness stepped into the passageway and led Eddie up the stairs. The staircase twisted up into a small room, roughly a twelve-by-twelve space with an eight-foot-high ceiling. An elegant velvet chair sat by the wall in front of them next to a decorative side table. A thick layer of dust covered the floor, table, and chair.

The front wall had a small slide window. Gently pulling the handle sideways, the window opened to reveal a direct line of sight to the stage. The opening was about two feet wide and a foot high.

"When the house lights are off, this is virtually unnoticeable when opened." The Baroness said as Eddie peered through the hole.

"Do the police know this room exists?" Eddie asked.

"No. This was the first time I opened it. I doubt this passageway has been used since Donald Stewart used it over half a century ago." The Baroness stated. She dropped the duffle bag on the ground and motioned to the back of the room.

"There is a half bath in the back of the room if you need to relieve yourself. Your rifle, ammo, and supplies for the next two days are in the bag." The Baroness said. Eddie looked up to her with a grin.

"Consider it done. Hail Cobra." He said.

Chapter 17

Blue Jaye sat in the front seat of the Greyhound bus as it rolled through the center of Lakeside. Passing by her old brick apartment building with yellow wooden trim she saw a group of college kids sitting on the railing of her old porch. The kids leaned, laughed, and goaded each other like when she went to the University with Elise.

Spirit had said it was ok for her to user her iphone again and she was getting up to speed with everything that happened over the past three months. Sherriff Douglas's death and the assassination attempt of Deborah Minh had brought back a slew of emotions that she thought were long gone. Thinking back to the incident at Lakeside two years ago, Blue Jaye and had a strange feeling she was being thrust back into something strangely similar.

The bus came to a stop and Blue Jaye grabbed her bow case and bag and stepped out in front of the Police Station. In addition to the pain felt from Sherriff Douglas's death, she was also in a fair amount of shock to hear that her old college friend, Jason Smith, had taken the role of interim Sherriff. An awkward surge of attraction rumbled around in the bottom of her stomach.

Two years ago, Jason and she helped Flint, General Spirit, and Sherriff Douglas save the town. Realizing she was going to see Jason for the first time since they graduated made her skittish. There was no denying she had feelings for him, but nothing between them had ever materialized. With Elise's accident, it just didn't seem right at the time. What about now? Said a small voice in Blue Jaye's head. She shook it off, ignoring her conscious. I am here for my first assignment, and I need to focus on that, she reassured herself. Blue Jaye entered the station and was led to the Sherriff's office. Sweat started to bead on her nose and she suddenly felt flustered. The Sherriff's assistant turned to her and smiled.

"Sherriff Smith will see you now." Ellen said, gesturing toward the half open door in front of them.

Blue Jaye knocked softly, gently pushing the door open with her hand. Jason was sitting at his desk in an olive and gold uniform staring at a photo intently. He looked up at Blue Jaye as she walked through the door. Immediately he stood up and brushed down the front his uniform hastily. A wide smile appeared across his face.

"Jessie?" He asked.

Blue Jaye's cheeks went wide and instinctually, she walked up to give him a big hug. Jason walked around the desk to meet her and the old friends embraced. The apprehension Blue Jaye felt immediately disappeared as she squeezed Jason tightly. After a few moments, she broke away, blushing and finding a seat. Jason goofily walked back around his desk and sat down.

"Why are you back in Lakeside?" He asked, clearly not knowing why she was there.

"The General sent me. I'm Agent Blue Jaye." She replied, smiling widely. Jason's smile suddenly changed to a look of astonishment.

"You're Blue Jaye?" He asked, dumbfounded. Blue Jaye narrowed her eyes, playfully placing a hand on her hip.

"And what's wrong with me?" She rebuked. Jason snapped himself out of his stupor.

"No, I'm sorry, it's great that it's you. I mean that you are her. I mean, it is just great to see you." He paused awkwardly. "I just…I had no idea that you were now with the General and Flint." He said.

"I know. I'm sorry, Spirit had me keep my recruitment a secret. I just found out about Sherriff Douglas. Jason, I am so sorry. I know that you and the Sherriff were close. He was a good man." Blue Jaye said. A sharp pain shot though her chest when she saw the sadness come across Jason's face. Silence filled the room. Blue Jaye decided to continue.

"I wasn't allowed access to phones, internet, and television when I was training. If I had, I would have called, come to the funeral." Blue Jaye said. Looking at the pained expression on Jason's face, she decided to shift gears.

"The General approached me shortly after the incident and asked if I would like to join him. I said yes." Blue Jaye paused. "I'm still not sure if it was the right decision, but I got in shape, and I'm here ready to help." She said. It felt liberating to talk to someone about her decision to join the Joes.

Jason leaned back in his chair and told Blue Jaye everything, from the Sherriff's shooting, to Carrie's death, to learning about the Baroness, and locating the killer with the help of Mainframe. He told her that the Baroness had left no evidence trail, but the General and Flint firmly believed that whatever she was planning would happen at the Primary in two days.

"That is where you come in." Jason stated.

"Where I come in?" Blue Jaye asked.

"That's why the General brought you in. To help capture whoever is responsible for these killings. Didn't he tell you?" Jason said, anxiously.

"No, not yet. I am sure he will let us know at the debrief. At least we will get to work together again. The last time, we made a pretty good team." She said tenderly.

"We did, didn't we?" Jason replied. He looked Blue Jaye over. "Jeez, you got buff." He exclaimed. Blue Jaye laughed.

"You wouldn't believe the training I went through. But I am in the best shape I have ever been. I can thank Dusty, Storm Shadow, and Jinx for that." She said, happily reminiscing about her training.

"Flint, Mainframe, Dusty…Blue Jaye. I will never get used to what you call yourselves." Jason said, laughing to himself.

"I know. But I think they are kinda cool you know?" Blue Jaye said, brushing some strands of blue hair back behind her ear. "So, when is Spirit getting here?" She asked.

"He's already here. Follow me." Jason said as he rose from his seat.

Leading Blue Jaye out of his office, Jason walked down the hall into the small conference room where Mainframe was sitting, adjusting the settings on the S.I.G.H.T. Mainframe was now wearing a blue MIT polo shirt and a darker shade of khakis. Flint was also in the room, leaning on the far corner wall wearing his leather bomber jacket, watching Mainframe click away on the keyboard. Both men turned to them as they walked through the door.

"Blue Jaye. Good to see you again." Flint said smiling and nodding.

"You too." Blue Jaye said standing awkwardly.

"Spirit sent the new Jaye?" Mainframe asked, now standing and holding out a pudgy palm. Blue Jaye took it and he shook it happily. "Now my confidence is restored!" Mainframe exclaimed.

An acute pain jabbed Blue Jaye in the chest. Again, when Spirit gave her her code name, she had no idea it had a greater meaning, let alone was given to someone before her. Every teammate mentioned it like she held some sort of special powers. She had no idea who the previous Jaye was, but it was more than apparent she had large shoes to fill.

"Has the Sherriff brought you up to speed on everything that has happened?" Flint asked, seeing Blue Jaye was a bit flustered. Blue Jaye nodded, happy to change the subject.

"Yes. You believe that the next attack will be at the Primary rally?" Blue Jaye asked.

"That's correct. The data points to another assassination attempt on Deborah Minh." Flint replied.

"What about the Baroness?" Blue Jaye asked.

Mainframe turned back toward his keyboard and with a few quick keystrokes, images of the Baroness appeared on the monitors. There was a mix of photos, some of the Baroness much younger, her hair a deep, jet black. Other pictures showed her with her late husband, candid shots of them leaving and entering their Scotland compound. Blue Jaye leaned in and started to read the files that appeared on the screen.

"As you can see..." Mainframe gestured to the monitor. "We have had extensive history with this woman. She is extremely wealthy, calculated, and one of the most dangerous people on earth." Mainframe said.

"And now she is in Lakeside with a serious interest in Deborah Minh and her campaign." Jason interrupted.

"Why? What is her interest in Lakeside, or Deborah Minh?" Blue Jaye asked. Flint stood up to reply.

"We have no idea. The only thing we are sure of is that Deborah Minh is her next target." Flint said.

"The rally is being held in the Lakeside Theatre Hall. I had my officers comb the entire theatre. It's clean, but the Baroness has additional security which will make things hard to monitor." Jason stated.

Mainframe reached over and grabbed two small leather cases next to him. He laid them on the table in front of Blue Jaye and the Sherriff. Blue Jaye reached down and opened the case which revealed a pair of ear and eye pieces. She looked over to Mainframe who motioned for her to put them in her eye and ear.

"You only need one of each. The others you can save as backup." Mainframe stated as Blue Jaye carefully placed the contact lens in her eye. Putting in her earpiece, Mainframe motioned to the Sherriff to do the same.

"These will enable you to speak to each other and ourselves throughout the theatre. We will also be able to see the feed coming through your eyepiece." Mainframe said.

"What about you? Where will you be?" Blue Jaye asked Flint

"I will be back here monitoring with Mainframe." Flint replied.

Mainframe typed on his keyboard and the feeds coming from the contact lens in the Sherriff and Blue Jaye's eyes popped up on his monitors.

"Whoa." Blue Jaye exclaimed as the contact lens in her eye flashed and a digital grid appeared.

"Go ahead and scan the room. I have to get a reading." Mainframe stated.

Blue Jaye and the Sherriff began to look around the room. From their contact lenses, the right side of the screen displayed a long string of code. When the string of code ended, a line of text read, S.I.G.H.T. Synch Complete.

"I just finished synching your feeds with the data from the S.I.G.H.T. This will allow you to scan the crowd. If someone's skin tone or body movement matches our surveillance data, your eye piece will light up in blue, confirming the identity of the killer." Mainframe exclaimed. He threw a printout of the suspect in the air.

Blue Jaye and the Sherriff looked at the flying photo and from their eye pieces a digital scope zoomed directly in on the face of the suspect and lit up in blue.

"But there will be well over three thousand people in the theatre." The Sherriff countered. "How can we be confident we will be able to find the suspect before they act?"

"We can't. That's the challenge. We have no idea when or how the killer will strike." Flint stated bluntly.

"How about this?" Blue Jaye interjected.

Everyone fell silent and looked toward her. She took a deep breath and continued.

"The Sherriff and I will make sure to scan all the Baroness's security prior to opening the doors to the rally. At that point, we will both stand by the entrance, so we get a good look at the guests when they arrive. I doubt the killer will come through the front door, but by pre-scanning the majority of the crowd, we'll be able to reduce the work Mainframe and his software needs to do to identify the shooter." Blue Jaye paused to see everyone's reaction.

"It's a solid plan. Pre-scanning will help. Let's run with it." Mainframe confirmed. Blue Jaye looked a little startled as everyone else in the room nodded their agreement.

"Is there anything else that you need from us?" Mainframe asked Blue Jaye.

"Get me everything you have on the Baroness." Blue Jaye stated.

The next moment, Mainframe transferred a series of images and files to Blue Jaye's eye piece. An electric readout appeared, and the files were transferred.

"The database in your visual schematic is voice activated. Just let me know if you need anything else." Mainframe said.

Blue Jaye sat down and began reading the information Mainframe had provided. The Baroness intrigued her. Who was this woman? How did she gain such a level of power and influence? And what could she possibly want with the little town of Lakeside, Vermont? Settling in, Blue Jaye tried to learn everything she could about Anastasia McCullen, aka the Baroness, aka Cobra Commander.

Chapter 18

It was the night of the Primary and the Lakeside Theatre Hall was at capacity for Deborah Minh's predicted victory rally. The seats were full of anxious supporters who looked to the stage, watching a large screen displaying the results. Deborah was the heavy favorite, but still, the entire hall was nervous and jittery. People were pacing, shifting in their chairs, talking about how amazing it would be if Deborah was the new Governor.

Blue Jaye and Sherriff Smith stood in the Control Room, high above the second balcony, looking down at the stage. The Sherriff was massaging his temples, trying to relieve himself from the growing stress. While the atmosphere from the audience was full of hope, the feeling in the control room was foreboding. Blue Jaye put a hand on the Sherriff's back. He opened his eyes and looked over with slight smile.

"We are going to get the killer." Blue Jaye said reassuringly. "We scanned all of the Baroness's security and everyone who walked through the entrance. Your officers are staking out all possible vantage points, and Deborah has security all around her."

"You're right. Still, I feel like we overlooked something. I just can't figure it out. I don't know, maybe it's just the wait that is getting to me." The Sherriff said giving Blue Jaye another half-hearted smile.

Blue Jaye looked back at the large monitor placed on the stage. A slender, young, male anchor stood next to a digital map of the state of Vermont. He pointed to the various counties that had already reported results. Two thirds of the boxes had been identified as wins for Deborah, and if she won the Lakeside region (which had yet to be reported) she would be declared the winner.

"When they release the results for Lakeside, and Deborah wins, this place will erupt. After that, she will be poised to give her victory speech." Blue Jaye said still staring at the monitor.

"And you think that is when the attack will happen?" Jason asked turning to Blue Jaye. She looked away from the monitor at him and nodded.

"I do." She said softly.

"Then we are running out of time." Jason said, rubbing his mouth, looking chagrinned.

Blue Jaye looked at the house seats, watching the crowd stir. A nauseous hysteria began to rise in her stomach and like Jason, she began to think they might have missed something. She reached down to grab the arm of her chair and instead her fingers touched her canvas bow case. She stared at the bow before unzipping it and removing Sparrow Hawk. Securing her quiver around her shoulder, she turned to see Jason staring at her.

"What are you going to do?" Jason asked.

"I am going to head out on the catwalk for one last check. Do you have your com unit on?" She asked, as she patted her earpiece. Jason nodded.

"Mainframe? Flint? Can you hear us?" She asked aloud. After a static of crackle, Mainframe's voice came over the feed.

"Flint and I are here, and we are rip roaring, and ready to go." Mainframe stated happily.

"I am heading out onto the catwalk. We are thinking the attack will happen shortly after they announce the results." Blue Jaye stated as she walked out of the control room.

"That's an affirmative. Flint confirms your assessment. Stay alert." Mainframe said.

Blue Jaye started to scan the crowd starting with the balconies and continuing with the house seats. The electronic readout coming from her contact lens kept flashing red, indicating there were no matches.

"Nothing in the balconies or the house seats." Blue Jaye stated.

"Do you have eyes on the Baroness?" Mainframe asked.

Blue Jaye looked to the stage. Deborah wore a slim fitting dress suit, with a dark red jacket. Her hair was braided and tied in an elaborate bun on the top of her head. She had her back half turned to the stage, watching the monitor. There were at least six of the Baroness's security team flanking either side of Deborah, but no sign of the Baroness. After searching the orchestra pit and the first few rows of seats, Blue Jaye found her seated in one of the box seats above the right of the stage talking with two gentlemen in designer suits.

"I found her. She is in the first box to the top right of the stage." Blue Jaye stated as the scan in her contact lens outlined the Baroness, confirming her identify.

"You know she is in a perfect position to assassinate Deborah herself. But I doubt she would be that brazen. My guess is she is there to protect herself from what is about to happen." Mainframe said.

"That's what I'm thinking too." Blue Jaye stated, continuing to scan the entrance.

"I'll make sure we have at least two officers watching her the whole time." The Sherriff interjected over her earpiece.

"Thanks. I will continue to scan the audience. Let me know if the Baroness starts acting suspicious." Blue Jaye stated.

Taking Sparrow Hawk off her shoulder, she reached into her quiver for an arrow. Blue Jaye stared at the Baroness seated in the box above the stage. The Baroness was dressed in a black formal gown, with a scoop neckline and a stealth silhouette. She watched as the Baroness adjusted a gray shawl around her shoulders.

Blue Jaye didn't have much time to research, but from what she was able to learn, the Baroness was born Anastasia Cisarovna. Her family was wealthy, aristocratic, and hailed from Eastern Europe. Raised in elegance, she surprised everyone when she left during her late teens to join a group of political radicals. Using her stature, international connections, and wealth, her influence grew, and she developed her own rebel force that eventually became the core of the terrorist organization known as Cobra. There she was reunited with an old family friend, James McCullen Destro XXVI.

Destro had taken the mantle of his family crest and was the C.E.O. of M.A.R.S. Industries, an organization that specialized in dealing weapons and arms. Allied with Cobra, Destro, the Baroness, and Cobra Commander, led Cobra to its height in the eighties and nineties. Eventually, the Joes exposed and eliminated all major Cobra threats until they grew defunct.

The Baroness then retreated with Destro and combined their remaining resources into Saturn Industries. The two married and pushed the company into legitimacy. However, ten years ago, Destro died of heart failure and the Baroness took over sole control of the empire. Blue Jaye stared at the silver haired widow wondering what her plans were.

A sudden hush fell over the crowd that broke Blue Jaye from her train of thought. She looked to the stage and saw the Lakeside results posted on the monitor. It took a few moments for the crowd to realize Deborah was victorious, but when they did, the theatre erupted in a roar. Deborah clasped both hands around her mouth as two security guards patted her on the back in congratulations. She slowly turned to the crowd and raised both fists high in the air. The cheers from the crowd were deafening.

Blue Jaye began to scan the audience looking for anything suspicious. The contact lens in her eyes returned a quick succession of red flashes, indicating no matches. Blue Jaye looked frantically to the stage, a foreboding sense that whatever was going to happen would happen soon. Looking back to the Baroness, Blue Jaye saw her smiling, shaking hands with the other gentlemen in the box, clasping her hands together and shaking them triumphantly toward Deborah.

Blue Jaye followed the Baroness's gesture to the stage when she saw it. The borders of the stage were made of carved decorative wood. The left side was sculpted in the shape of a golden lion standing on two legs reaching upward. The carving on the right side was a unicorn on two hooves also reaching up. At the top, was a sculpture of the comedy and tragedy masks, both wearing the crowns of a king and queen. As she looked at the sculpture, Blue Jaye knew she had seen a similar picture in the Baroness's file.

"Mainframe! Bring up the family crests in the Baroness's file. Cross check them with anything related to a lion and the unicorn. Let me know what you find." Blue Jaye shouted. A static crackle came over her earpiece.

"Did you say a lion and unicorn?" Mainframe asked, double-checking what Blue Jaye had asked.

"Yes!" She shouted back. "The carvings on the outside of the stage. I have seen them before in the Baroness's files!"

"Oh, ok, one second." Mainframe stated as she started clicking on his keyboard. "I know off the top of my head that the lion and unicorn represent the unification of England and Scotland. The lion represents England and the unicorn Scotland. Both characters are also mentioned in a classic nursery rhyme that tells the story of the fight between the two kingdoms. Oh! I also remember that in 'Alice Through the Looking Glass,' Alice, in the company of the white king, meets a lion and unicorn. I think they offer Alice a plum cake…" Mainframe rambled on. Blue Jaye interrupted him.

"Let's focus on the relationship with Scotland!" Blue Jaye shouted, trying to get Mainframe back on track. "The Baroness's late husband's family were from Scotland. Check to see if there are any hits between the McCullens and a lion and a unicorn." Blue Jaye stated.

Immediately, a crest of arms appeared on the screen emulating from her eyepiece. On one side was a lion on two legs with a crown and on the other side was a unicorn. Blue Jaye stared at the picture.

"This is what I saw in the Baroness's files!" Blue Jaye said frantically.

"That is the coat of arms from the House of Stewart, the last line of Scottish kings." Mainframe stated.

Blue Jaye watched as Deborah began to walk toward the podium. She was facing the crowd holding her hands above her head, gesturing the crowd to be silent.

"What is the connection between the House of Stewart and the McCullens?" She asked.

"Here we go." Shouted Mainframe excitedly. "The Stewarts were highly involved in the theatre with many descendants being playwrights, directors, actors, and even architects. The McCullens were benefactors for many of the theatres the Stewarts created, including the Royal Lyceum Theatre in Edinburgh." Mainframe paused. "Holy…I think I found it." He stated.

"Yes! What?" Blue Jaye asked. The crowd had settled, and Deborah was about to begin her speech.

"One of the architects, Connor Stewart, was famed for building secret passageways and rooms in the buildings he constructed. His heir, Donald Steward was one of the benefactors who commissioned the Lakeside Theatre back in the late twenties. Mainframe said.

Blue Jaye's eyes went wide. It had been a while since she had practiced journalism, but the familiar feeling she got when all the pieces came together clicked in her , she shot her gaze back toward the Control Room where she saw the Sherriff, standing and staring at her.

"That's it! There must be a secret room. That is where the shooter will be. Flint, what are the best vantage points to the stage?" Blue Jaye asked. After a crackle of static, Flint's voice came over the line.

"I would say from the boxes, catwalk, control room, or the balconies." Flint said.

Blue Jaye looked toward the boxes, scanning everyone she saw without any matches. She then looked back at the control room toward Sherriff. She was standing on the catwalk, so that just left the balconies. However, with the house lights now off, and the stage light lit in anticipation for Deborah's speech, most of the crowd was shrouded in darkness. Blue Jaye squinted her eyes, trying to adjust to the dark, looking for anything out of the ordinary. She motioned to the Sherriff in the Control Room.

"Sherriff. I am thinking the shooter is in the balconies." Blue Jaye said. Jason's voice came over the line.

"Got you. I will head down to the ground level and monitor from there." The Sherriff replied.

Blue Jaye saw him leave the Control Room as he headed down the stairs. Looking back to the stage, Deborah had paused as she was interrupted by another loud cheer. Blue Jaye got an alarming feeling they were out of time. Holding Sparrow Hawk, she strung an arrow, pointing it down toward her feet.

Staring at the balconies, she thought she saw something on the back wall. Was the secret room back there? Was there an opening in the wall? Blue Jaye asked herself as she strained to see through the shadows.

A panic erupted within her. Sweat began to bead on her forehead and nose. Then, a loud electronic pop came from the spotlights above the stage as they shone down on Deborah. We're out of time¸ Blue Jaye thought and looked back at the darkened spot by the balcony. Distraught, she turned back to the stage at Deborah, now completely illuminated and exposed in the spotlight.

The spotlight! Blue Jaye exclaimed silently to herself and aimed at the light fastened above the stage. Pulling back on Sparrow Hawk, Blue Jaye took a deep inhale. Thinking of the countless hours swinging kettle bells with Dusty, peeling potatoes for Tommy and Kimi, and the love for her lifelong friend Elise, she exhaled and let go of the bowstring.

She watched the arrow soar through the air, striking the back corner of the right spotlight with a loud clang. The force of the shot spun the spotlight backward, shining directly in the space between the first and second balconies. What was once shrouded in darkness, was now exposed in a blinding light. Blue Jaye saw audience members shield their eyes, and on the back wall, she saw a small opening. Protruding out of the opening, was what looked like the barrel of a rifle.

The rifle then fired toward the stage. The bullet missed high and Deborah was promptly tackled to the ground by her security team. Blue Jaye's eye piece lit up in blue as she stared into the small hole as the shooter's skin tone was verified by the S.I.G.H.T.

A second shot fired, ricocheting off the podium, sending a blast of splinters flying into the orchestra pit. Deborah however, had almost been pulled completely offstage. We succeeded in thwarting the assassination attempt, Blue Jaye thought to herself.

Pandemonium set in and people began running toward the exits, jumping and falling over rows of seats. In the lobby, Sherriff Smith shoved and muscled his way toward the main entrance. Panic stricken patrons surged toward the front doors. A loud crash of broken glass echoed as it splashed on the marble floor. A throng of bodies broke through the doors streaming into the street. The Sherriff and a few officers moved toward the front of the mob, trying usher the guests out as orderly as possible.

Looking out at the crowds, the Sherriff began scanning, trying to see if the shooter had slipped out amidst the chaos. Then, standing on the other side of the road, the Sherriff saw him. He stood facing the theatre staring like a twisted child who had just set one of his toys on fire and was watching it burn. Jason's eye piece lit up in blue confirming the shooter's identity.

"I got him." The Sherriff exclaimed as he locked eyes with Eddie Langstrom.

Eddie froze when he saw the Sherriff. At first, he looked alarmed and confused. Jason put his right hand on the butt of his sidearm and unbuttoned his holster strap. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at Eddie.

"Freeze!" The Sherriff shouted.

Eddie continued to stare at the Sherriff. As another group of theatre goers poured out into the street, Eddie winked and took off in a sprint toward the lakefront. Jason ran after, following him in pursuit.

Chapter 19

Back in the theatre hall, the Baroness sat in her box, looking at the chaotic scene unfold down below. Streams off people pushed toward the exits. The stage was empty except for the podium, one corner chipped from Eddie's second failed shot. Casually, she strolled out of her box to the exit. Reaching in her bag, she pulled out a Beretta Auto 9mm, fastened on its scope, and flicked the safety off.

She walked up the carpeted stairs of the Lakeside Theatre Hall to the control room. Having obtained a set of master keys to ensure the place was secure, the Baroness unlocked the door. Across the control room were two doors, one leading to the catwalks above the theatre, and the other to a service entrance that led up to the roof.

Unlocking the service entrance, the Baroness ascended the stairs. A hot summer night breeze greeted her as she walked out onto the roof facing the lakefront. Gripping her Beretta, she popped the lens off of the small scope. The Baroness then tapped the left side of her glasses frame, activating a red digital schematic from her lenses.

Looking toward the lake, the Baroness saw Eddie Langstrom running toward the waterfront with Sherriff Smith closing in. She tapped the left side of her glasses again, and her lenses zoomed in on Eddie desperately trying to outrun the Sherriff. The Sherriff was fit, and as the Baroness stared at him sprinting and dodging around pedestrians, she got a strange sense of déjà vu. Something was familiar about him.

The Baroness watched as the Sherriff, who was now only a few paces behind Eddie, took two large jump steps and propelled himself forward with a surprising efficiency. He wrapped his arms around Eddie's legs, taking him down. Eddie tumbled forward on the ground. The Sherriff rolled over and the Baroness saw his gun tumble out of reach.

Eddie faced up with the Sherriff and pulled a short-serrated scuba knife from behind his back. Slowly, the two began circling each other. The Sherriff had both of his hands raised and shifted from side to side. The Baroness watched the Sherriff, and again, a feeling of déjà vu consumed her. She had seen this style of fighting before, she just could not remember where.

Eddie crouched down into a squat and thrust the knife up toward the Sherriff's jaw. The Sherriff slid out of the way, and gave Eddie a quick jab to the ribs, knocking the breath out of him before swatting the knife from his hands. Eddie hopped back on his feet and shifted out of the way.

The Sherriff advanced, bringing himself low, pounding on Eddie's ribs. The Baroness saw Eddie flinch as the first blows connected. He countered by hammering a massive hook across the Sherriff's right temple, before delivering a left jab sending the Sherriff stumbling backward. The Sherriff straightened himself up as Eddie charged.

Seeing an opening, Eddie delivered another barrage of body shots. A horde of police cruisers and officers had surrounded the two men, but they refrained from intervening. The Baroness continued to watch Eddie skillfully shift his weight, following the Sherriff as he hunched and moved to the left or right. Eddie advanced, and as he closed the distance between them, the Sherriff dropped his left fist below his waist, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.

The Baroness let out a gasp. She had finally remembered what was so familiar about the Sherriff's fighting style. Eddie went for the bait and swung wildly at the Sherriff's left side. The Sherriff then surprised him with a shovel hook that shot Eddie's head upright. Wasting no time, the Sherriff delivered a right cross across Eddie's jaw.

"Flint…" The Baroness whispered to herself, shaken by the overwhelming flood of emotions coursing through her.

Eddie then stumbled back. The Sherriff was shouting orders to his men. The Baroness saw Eddie reach into the inside of his jacket and pulled out a gun pointed at the Sherriff's back. As the Sherriff's officers aimed their rifles, the Baroness raised her pistol and fired. And just as she promised, Eddie Langstrom had been freed from any additional obligations to Cobra.

Chapter 20

Deborah Minh shakily walked up the marble stairs of Waterman Hall to her office. It was close to three o'clock in the morning and she had just been released from the hospital. She stopped and leaned on the stairwell railing. Letting out a deep breath, she grasped the rail and pulled herself to the top, staggering down the hallway to her office. There was just one more responsibility to attend to before going home and falling into a deep sleep.

The corridor was dark, and a soft orange glow came from her office. Deborah swung the door open, and saw the Baroness sitting behind her desk, her hands gently lying on her crossed legs. Her ruby dangled from her neck, resting gently on the gray shawl that fell over her shoulders and chest.

On the desk in front of her was a bottle of MaCallan 1926 and two short diamond-cut scotch glasses. The Baroness smiled as she slumped down in the chair in front of her. Deborah glared at her through wild and wispy strands of hair that fell carelessly in front of her face.

"I assume everything went just as you planned?" Deborah asked.

"More or less." The Baroness retorted in her deep eastern European accent. "There were a few unexpected blockers, but nothing prevented us from obtaining our goal."

The Baroness leaned forward, uncorked the bottle of malt whiskey and poured a double shot in each glass. She pushed one toward Deborah. Deborah leaned forward, grabbed the glass, and put back the drink with a whip of her neck. She slammed the glass down and shoved it back toward the Baroness.

Chuckling to herself, the Baroness refilled Deborah's glass and gently placed it back in front of her. Deborah took it and sipped the rare Scotch whiskey. Intense and dry with a slight fruity yield, the whisky went down with a warming spice. Deborah closed her eyes as the soothing liquid eased some of the tension she was feeling.

"You always looked good in crimson. I remember telling your grandfather that ever since you were a little girl." The Baroness stated tenderly.

"Don't ever mention my grandfather again." Deborah shot back. The Baroness chuckled to herself.

"Deborah my dear. You should be celebrating. The police believe their victory was earned. Lakeside and the entire state of Vermont are behind you. You are a shoo-in to win the governorship, and we now know to what extent the Joes are involved." The Baroness said, interlocking her fingers and leaning back on the chair.

"And to what extent is that?" Deborah asked. For a moment, she thought she saw the Baroness hesitate.

"Nothing that I cannot handle." The Baroness replied confidently.

"So, can we finally drop this façade between us?" Deborah inquired, taking another deep sip of whiskey.

"In private, yes. In public however, it's best we keep up appearances until you solidify your governorship in November. Until then, you just need to steer the course. After tonight, your victory is all but assured." The Baroness stated.

"So, what happens after we win in November? What is your plan?" Deborah asked, pouring herself another drink.

"I am glad you asked." The Baroness said, leaning forward, resting her elbows resting on Deborah's desk.

"Talk to me about the new windmills that are being constructed by your Green Mountain Energy Conservation initiatives?" The Baroness asked.

"The one's up by St. Joes?" Deborah replied in surprise. Her wind turbine project was old news, and was the last thing she would have thought the Baroness was interested in.

"Precisely. Please, indulge me." The Baroness replied, taking her glass, leaning back in her chair.

Part 2: Implementation

Chapter 21

Elise Jensen, aka Communications Officer Cricket, pushed the blue handicap button for the front entrance of the twelve-story concrete rectangle which stood unwavering in the cold November air. Moving more skillfully every day, Elise maneuvered through the open doorway with her titanium crutches. The lobby was a wide-open space with high concrete walls. A circular information desk jetted out of the tile floor in the middle of the vestibule. Two security guards sat staring at their monitors.

Dozens of men and woman in suits and IDs tags walked past, their faces deep in thought about their next appointment or meeting. Elise gripped the arm braces of her crutches and efficiently moved toward the desk. As she got closer, one of the security guards looked up at her.

The expression that came over his face was one that Elise had gotten used to over the past two years. It was a look of both helpfulness and pity. As she reached the desk, she smiled.

"I'm here to meet with General Beachhead and Captain Breaker. I have an eleven o'clock scheduled." Elise stated.

"Your name?" The security guard asked.

"Agent Cricket." Elise replied, and removed her ID from her black fleece tech jacket.

She handed it to the security guard who took it suspiciously. Other than her superior, Captain Breaker, she was the only other Agent who was disabled. Elise continued to smile, but in her mind, rolled her eyes and sighed. Frustratingly, she wondered why people automatically thought she was professionally limited because of her physical impairment. The security guard entered a few keystrokes and confirmed her appointment. He handed her ID and the warm smile had returned on his face.

"Thank you, Agent. Eleventh floor. The elevators are on the far wall behind you. Do you need any assistance?" He asked, wondering if he had said the wrong thing. Elise smiled back, mentally giving him the figure, waving one of her crutches in front of her.

"No thanks. That's why I brought these." She said and turned away toward the elevators. The security guard sat back down, confused if he had just been insulted or not.

Elise calculated the elevators had to be at least fifty yards from her current position. Taking a deep breath, she gripped her crutches with her fingerless gloves and moved at a quick pace toward the elevator doors. After her accident two years ago, General Spirit had recruited her and roommate, Jessie to the team, however, the General made her promise not to tell Jessie until she had completed her training.

When Jessie left for training, Spirit had moved Elise to Maryland for experimental back surgery. A small epidural stimulator was placed in her lower spine enabling the neurons to once again receive signals her brain sent to her legs. Once the stimulator was implanted, Elise felt an immediate sensation that swept through her body. For the first time since her accident, she felt her leg muscles contract in a continuous vibration. That sensation and joy helped fuel the next two years of agonizing therapy sessions to regain her ability to walk.

While the stimulator communicated with the networks of neurons below her spinal cord, Elise realized that regaining her mobility also meant regaining conscious control of her movement. After hours of mental exhaustion, fits of screaming and tears, she slowly began to control the reactions between her legs and brain. At first, she was able to wiggle her toes, then bend her knees, and finally, get her legs to begin walking. Looking down at her feet, Elise smiled proudly to herself as she reached the elevator doors.

While learning how to walk again, Elise also increased her upper body strength, building up her arms, shoulders, and abs. Within a few months, she was able to do fifty pull ups with twenty additional pounds strapped to a belt. Spirit bought her a racing wheelchair and she would spend the afternoons and weekends riding around DC and the National Mall.

Elise pushed the elevator button as five bulky young cadets arrived and stood nervously around her. She looked up at one of them. He was dressed in olive fatigues with chiseled biceps bulging from his shirt. He smiled at her the same way the security guard had and then looked down at his polished black boots. The elevator bell rang, and a string of uniformed men and women streamed out into the lobby.

Elise gestured with her crutch for the cadets to file in before her. Walking in, one cadet pushed the button for the eleventh floor. He turned to her with a nervous smile across his face.

"What floor?" He asked helpfully.

"Eleven, thank you." Elise responded, smiling back happily. The young man nodded nervously, dropping his gaze to the floor.

The elevator bell rang, and the group of cadets excused themselves as they exited, scurrying down the hall. Looking at the directory, Elise found the suite she was looking for, and started down in the opposite direction.

When she reached the room, she saw a digital keypad mounted to the side of the door. Elise removed her phone and placed it on the keypad. A green light illuminated as the door unlocked, and she walked into a large conference room. An expansive oval table reached the entire length of the room, with at least twenty swivel chairs placed on either side. There was a large flat screen on the left wall and a few white boards on the right scattered with partially erased notes and diagrams.

The room was completely empty except for a man and a woman seated at the far end of the table. Elise recognized them as General Beachhead and Captain Breaker. Beachhead was dressed in full olive uniform, the breast of his jacket adorned with bars and medals. Next to him sat Breaker, wearing a slim, light-weight wool turtleneck and a pair of jeans. The right sleeve of her sweater was pulled up over her bicep above her prosthetic limb. Breaker was angrily tapping the hook of her prosthetic arm on the table. She motioned to Elise. From the looks on their faces, it was apparent the two were arguing.

"Agent Cricket." Breaker stood as Elise neared. "Please, have a seat. We were just discussing your final training assignment." Breaker stated flatly as she sat down.

Beachhead shifted in his chair and ran both hands over the few strands of hair he had left. He stood up and stuck out a calloused palm. Elise took it and did her best to match his grip.

"A firm handshake. Good." He said appealingly as he returned to his seat. "Cricket, Breaker has been telling me of your exceptional recovery and training." He said smiling. Breaker interjected.

"And Beachhead has been trying to explain to me why he is screwing you over." Breaker added angrily. Beachhead rubbed one of his large hands over his face again in frustration.

"Breaker. I am not here to screw her over. I am here to give her a chance." Beachhead calmly reasserted. Breaker rolled her eyes and spit out a disgusted sigh.

"A chance? You call running the Gauntlet a fair chance?" Breaker yelled. "Cricket is not just another statistic you can check off because she passed the Communications training. Only special ops and deep cover need to run the Gauntlet to graduate. This is discrimination and blackballing and you know it. Her disability doesn't affect her decision making and her hands are the only things any Communications Officer needs. None of the others have ever had to run the Gauntlet. All she should need to do is take the written test, and then get the green light for active duty." Breaker paused to catch her breath, her chest heaving.

"Damn it, Breaker, what do you think I am trying to do?" Beachhead shouted back, slamming a thick palm on the table making Elise jump in her seat. "I've spent the last two weeks arguing with my superiors bringing up your exact points. I am on your side here, ok? For Christs sake, I know it isn't fair, but right now it's the only option I am being given." Beachhead looked at Breaker with his aging, sunken eyes. He continued.

"I am not saying there won't be any more opportunities, but this is what is available now. The only way Cricket will pass the final stage of her training is to run the Gauntlet. If she fails, I will make sure to requisition for the next available opportunity." Beachhead said, clearly fatigued from the conversation.

"And when will that be? In another three months?" Breaker asked again. "What is she going to do till then?"

"Well, there are always clerical responsibilities." Beachhead attempted to respond but Breaker interrupted him again.

"Office work? Are you kidding me? That is exactly my point!" Breaker screamed, slamming her prosthetic hook down. "This is what they try to do when you have a handicap. Give us a few opportunities and a bunch of false hope before sending us to the mailroom." Breaker shouted. Now it was Beachheads turn to interrupt her.

"Jesus, Breaker." Beachhead said, rubbing his head again. "I don't know what to tell you. This is the offer. Are you going to take it or what?" He said collapsing in the back of his chair. Before Breaker could respond, Elise interjected herself into the conversation.

"I'll take it." Elise stated confidently. Both Beachhead and Breaker's heads shot toward her. Breaker's mouth was open, aghast. Elise continued.

"I've had to work twice as hard as all the other cadets to get to this point. I might as well finish off training doing the same thing." Elise replied crossing her arms at Beachhead.

It was now Breakers turn to rub her hand over her face. Beachhead chuckled to himself quietly. Slapping his thigh, he pulled himself out of the back of his chair and leaned forward toward Elise.

"Spoken like a true Joe. Ok, here is your final training assignment." Beachhead said smiling.

"The Gauntlet is a sophisticated obstacle course that requires the highest degree of skills, training, reaction, stamina, and mental fortitude. If you complete the course, you will hold the highest combat degree the Joes offer. Each Gauntlet participant is assigned a Communications Officer to guide them through each level of the course. You will be assigned as the Communications Officer for this run." Beachhead stated. Elise nodded in confirmation.

She had spent hours studying the physical layout of the course and had read all the transcripts from the cadets who either completed or failed. She knew where the weak spots were, what areas where the most challenging, and was ready to face the final challenge handed to her.

"Great. So, who am I guiding?" Elise asked.

Beachhead nervously stammered before replying. As he was about to speak, the door to the conference room swung open and a startling young woman walked through. She wore a deep chestnut colored Stetson hat with a four-inch crown, double hat band, and a kettle curl brim. A full grain rawhide leather jacket swayed over her shoulders as she strolled down the conference room in a pair of black bootcut jeans. Her suede cowboy boots thumped on the carpet as she approached.

Elise had twisted around in her chair, in complete awe of the woman. To complete the outfit, a double-sided western gun belt holstering two pearl butted six-shooters was wrapped around her waist. Pulling out a chair, the woman kicked up both boots and rested them casually on the table. She leaned back in her chair and propped up the front brim of her hat, exposing a pair of dark eyes. Beachhead sighed as he felt Breaker's eyes tearing into him.

"Are you serious?" She spat at Beachhead incredulously. Beachhead cleared his throat and introduced the exotic woman in the room.

"Agent Cricket. I'd like you to meet your runner for the Gauntlet, Agent Oakley." Beachhead stated and turned to the woman in the cowboy outfit. "Agent Oakley. Meet your eyes and ears for the Gauntlet, Agent Cricket."

Both Elise and Agent Oakley looked at one another. Agent Oakley gave a short laugh, quickly removed her boots from the table, and leaned in toward Elise. She shot out her arm so quick, Elise jumped.

"Agent Oakley. Nice to meet you." Oakley said. With her arm still extended, she gave Elise a mischievous grin. Elise shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you too." Elise stated, surprised at the way Oakley composed herself. While she was getting used to everyone acting awkward around her, Oakley displayed none of these traits. Beachhead cleared his throat getting everyone's attention before continuing.

"Agent Oakley. This is Cricket's first shot at running the Gauntlet, but for you, this will be your last. If you fail, you are out." Beachhead pushed his chair back. Like a firecracker, Oakley shot out up and started yelling.

"I knew you would eventually turn your back on the promise you made to my daddy. He always said you were a pushover when it came to dealing with the top brass." Agent Oakley spat. Beachhead now rose in his chair, his sagging cheeks had grown a hot red.

"You haven't given me much choice, cadet!" Beachhead leaned toward Oakley, clearly emotional. Breaker held out her left hand and gently grabbed his forearm, holding him back. He continued.

"I have tried to advocate for you, fight for you, give you every opportunity, but you always screw it up! I loved your father. He was my best friend and the best helicopter pilot we have ever had, which is the only reason that you are getting this last chance. And for the record, this wasn't a top brass decision. This was mine. If you want to follow in Wild Bill's footsteps, you need to start acting like him. If not, you know where the door is. You just walked through it." Beachhead sat and folded his arms, indicating he was done with the conversation.

Elise looked toward Oakley. The mention of Wild Bill had unhinged her. Even though her eyes were a dark brown, Elise saw them becoming frustratingly wet.

"Fine. Have it your way." Oakley stated in a thick southern drawl. A prolonged silence followed. Elise broke the stillness.

"When we complete the Gauntlet then what?" Elise asked.

"What do you mean, then what?" Beachhead asked, taken off-guard by the question.

"When we complete this impossible task, what do we get in return?" Elise asked with an unwavering assurance. Breaker folded her arms and smirked at Beachhead, awaiting his reply. Oakley looked at Elise surprised but pleased.

"What would you like?" Beachhead asked, interlocking his fingers, now in full amusement.

"A mission of our choice. No questions asked." Elise replied. Beachhead opened his mouth in a wide smile and gave out a short laugh.

"Agent Cricket, Agent Oakley. If you complete the Gauntlet, you can have whatever mission you want." Beachhead answered.

Beachhead rose and lead the group out of the conference room down the hallway to a silver elevator door. A keyhole was mounted to the wall next to the elevator. Reaching around his neck, Beachhead removed a chained key and slid it into the lock. The elevator opened. As they entered, Elise saw there were five floors starting with negative one, going down to negative five. Beachhead pushed the button for negative five. He turned to Oakley and Cricket as the elevator started to hum.

"I'm sure you already know them, but I am obligated to go over the rules of the course." Beachhead stated. Both Cricket and Oakley nodded back at him. "The Gauntlet is an extreme combat intensive obstacle course, designed to test your skills after receiving grade seven training. Unfortunately, neither of you have completed that training." Beachhead paused before continuing.

"The layout of the Gauntlet consists of five floors. Each floor has a specific objective or challenge. Runners may carry firearms and use up to twenty rounds of paint filled bullets on levels two and four." Beachhead turned to Oakley. "We can stop at the armory if you need, but I assume you would like to use your father's sidearms?"

"You assumed correct, Sir." Oakley responded as she tipped the brim of her hat at Beachhead.

"As I said, the course is built of five levels and is a homage to one of the first bases the Joes ever had, The Pit. The first floor is the staging area where the cadets begin. Before starting, all six participants will draw straws to see the order they will begin. The second floor is a hand-to-hand combat area. Here, cadets will face off against each other. The only way to move on is to take all your opponents out." Beachhead stated.

"The third floor is the hologram room. Here you will display your marksmanship and restraint, trying to take down hostile threats. Shooting any innocent will result in disqualification. The fourth floor is called the War Room where you will engage in hand-to-hand combat against two veteran Joes. If you make it past them, you will advance to the fifth and final level. All information about Level 5 classified. The goal of Level 5 is to test your ability to manage the unpredictable. The first one to pass all levels wins." Beachhead stated. He turned to Elise.

"Cricket, Breaker will take you to the Communications Center. Oakley, you will follow me to the staging area." Beachhead turned toward Elise as the door opened. "Good luck Agent Cricket." Beachhead said, and then turned in the opposite direction, Oakley striding close behind.

The Communications Center was small square room, with six office cubicles spread out in a rectangle. Each cubicle had a monitor, keyboard and headset. Elise placed her crutches on the wall and sat in the padded office chair. Her monitor flashed on. She could see the staging floor of the Gauntlet. Oakley was standing jabbering with the other cadets. Elise recognized them as the same five soldiers who she rode up the elevator with. Each cadet had an assault rifle strapped to their shoulder. As Oakley jawed with the participants, Elise smiled at her new partner's unwavering courage. As she placed her headset on, she heard Oakley goading.

"So, boys, which one of your fine-looking gentlemen will be coming in second place?" Oakley joked in her thick southern drawl.

Chapter 22

Annie Hardy, aka Agent Oakley, shifted her weight as she stood next to the five hulking cadets. Abs of steel, and egos as big as a Ponderosa lemon, she joked silently to herself. Gulping deeply, Oakley took in the room. The first floor of the Gauntlet, or the staging area consisted of a small table in front of an open stairwell.

Beachhead walked into the room and opened a brown leather briefcase revealing six sets of eye and earpieces. After Oakley and the other cadets put on their com units, a digital schematic appeared from the contact lens coming from her eye. A green grid began scanning and analyzing the floor. A static crackle came over her earpiece.

"Oakley? You read? This is Cricket." Elise stated.

"Read you loud and clear partner. Looking to draw straws next." Oakley said. She turned back toward Beachhead who was holding a bunch of matches in his hand.

"Offer to go last." Elise stated.

"Excuse me?" Oakley whispered, holding her earpiece and turning away from the others.

"Offer to go last. Now. Trust me, I have a plan." Elise said with confidence. Oakley continued to whisper.

"Look, I know we have been partners for, oh I don't know, all of an hour, so I don't want to sound off putting when I say that I think it's a bad idea. If I get the lucky, I can get out ahead of them. I have run the Gauntlet twice before and…" Oakley said as Elise interrupted.

"…and the first time, you got to the third floor when you ran out of ammo, and the second time you got knocked out on Level 2. As Beachhead alluded to, your reputation is well known. Now listen up, because this is the first and last time I will say this. My job is to help you stay ahead and stay alive. Unlike you, I finished at the top of my class, and have researched everything I can about running the Gauntlet. So, if you want the slightest chance of getting to Level 5, you need to trust me. Now, please offer to go last." Elise chirped in Oakley's ear.

Oakley stood frozen for a moment, before she shouted aloud.

"Gentlemen! I have been struck by a whiff of generosity and would graciously like to offer to go last." Oakley proclaimed, removing her hat and giving a low bow. The rest of the cadets gawked at her, not knowing what to say. Beachhead sighed and accepted her offer.

After giving the signal, Oakley and Cricket watched as the five cadets ran across the room and down the stairs. When it was her turn, Oakley started toward the staircase, but Cricket stopped her again shouting in her ear.

"The wall on your left." Cricket shouted. Oakley paused. "The wall to your left! Look at it!" Cricket yelled again.

Oakley looked at the wall to her left. It was completely blank. Suddenly, the electronic schematic lit up from her eyepiece and began a scan. Surprisingly, the screen showed an outline of an old doorframe behind the dry wall.

"The doorframe in front of you. Shoot the corners out on each side." Elise stated.

"That will use a ton of ammo." Oakley retorted.

"Please, you have to trust me." Elise pleaded.

Oakley's mind raced. This is my last chance, she reminded herself. Looking to the stairwell, the urge to charge down was overwhelming. The only reason she didn't was something her father told her before he died. He had said that the one thing he loved about the Joes was he could trust them like he could trust her. She had met Cricket just a little while ago, but there was something she couldn't place about her. Other than Beachhead, Oakley felt a connection with her. She decided that if this was her last chance to make the team, then this was also her last chance to trust someone.

"Ok, partner. Let's see what you're all about." Oakley exclaimed. She un-holstered both her side arms and fired from her hips.

A flurry of smoke shot from the barrels of her trusty Colts as she blew away the drywall around the doorframe. When the final bullet rang true, the section of wall collapsed, exposing an open shaft. Oakley leaned into the opening, an unbelievable look on her face. The space angled down below them and disappeared in the darkness, resembling a square metal water slide.

"This building was originally used as a mess hall and barracks. This is one of the entrances to the old laundry shoot. Hop in. It should take you directly to Level 3." Cricket said on the other end of the line.

"Well shoot out the lights. Let's go get it!" Oakley declared, and dove into the shaft feet first, one hand holding the top of her Stetson hat.

Sliding down the laundry shoot, Oakley saw the green electronic grid appear from her contact lens and Cricket once again came over her earpiece.

"The shaft goes down for another hundred yards before emptying into the next floor." Cricket stated.

"What do you mean emptying out into the next floor?" Oakley asked as she slid down the metal slide, quickly gaining speed.

The electronic reading from her eyepiece showed the end of the tunnel was only fifteen yards away. Oakley braced the walls with both hands, slamming her boots down below her, trying to slow down. She saw the end of the tunnel coming up a few yards in front of her and a few seconds later she crashed through the drywall, landing hard on the concrete floor below. Raising her head, Oakley moaned as she slowly picked herself off the ground.

"Welcome to Level 3!" Elise shouted happily in her ear.

Oakley righted herself and stood up. The other cadets had not made it to the third floor, and she realized Cricket's shortcut had put them on top of the leaderboard. Focusing on the room, Oakley took in her surroundings.

The third floor was dark, consisting of a long hallway that cadets would run down firing at holograms coming at them from all directions. Some of the holograms were of mercenaries holding guns, while others were depictions of innocents. Instinctually, Oakley grabbed her side arm to fire at a hologram of a tattooed woman holding a revolver.

"Wait! Don't shoot!" Cricket yelled. "Look. They are running away from you."

Oakley tipped the brow of her Stetson with one of her guns to get a better look. Just like Cricket said, all the holograms were running with their backs turned toward her.

"Well I'll be." Oakley said in astonishment. "What's wrong with them? Is the hologram broken?" She asked.

"No, it's not broken. We are just behind it. The laundry shoot opened on the far end. To open get to the next level, you have to eliminate four hostiles." Cricket said.

Oakley looked down at the hilts of her six-shooters. She wasn't allowed to reload until the next level. Checking the barrels of her Colts, she confirmed she had only one round left in each. Staring at the holograms, Oakley watched as they charged on each side, crossing over each other in the middle. Waiting until the next two holograms crossed, she aimed and fired, knocking down two at once.

"Nice shot." Cricket said. Oakley smiled and fired again, taking down another two holograms with one bullet.

"You haven't seen nothing yet partner." Oakley replied and spun one of her Colts in front of her before securing it in her holster.

The door behind her then slid open, revealing a staircase to the fourth level. At the bottom of the staircase was a hallway lined with tables on the left side. Each table was labeled with the names of the cadets running the Gauntlet. Oakley found her name and saw a pair of speed loaders. She reloaded her six shooters with paint bullets and continued down the hall.

"For the fourth floor, you get one reload. Two veteran Joes are waiting on the other side of the door in front of you. They will be armed with the same paint bullets you have." Cricket said.

As Oakley neared the door, she plastered her back against the wall and inched forward. After taking a deep breath, she rose from her crouch and peered through the small window in the door. Oakley saw two soldiers sitting in the middle of the room.

One was well over six-feet tall and had to be at least 250 pounds of pure muscle. He had a bald head and wore a baggy pair of olive tactical pants and a brown tank top with writing that spelled The Fright of Might. He was cleaning a T15 semi-automatic mag-fed paintball rifle. The other soldier was tall, but less bulky, slender, and athletic. He was dressed entirely in blue camouflage fatigues, goggles, and a matching baseball cap under a navy Balaklava.

Cricket scanned the soldiers and sent their profiles to the digital schematic in Oakley's contact lens. The bald-headed soldier's code name was Salvo, an anti-armor specialist. The one dressed head to toe in blue camouflage, was Shockwave, special weapons and tactics. Oakley stood behind the wall continuing to watch the two soldiers cleaning their guns. She whispered quietly to Cricket.

"Well partner? Got any more ideas?" Oakley asked.

"It looks like they aren't expecting us quite so soon. I'm thinking our little shortcut through the laundry shoot put us ahead of schedule. The big one Salvo, seems to have less experience with hand-to-hand combat. After running a few analyses of probable outcomes, Salvo's weakness is his knees. The one in blue is Shockwave. He doesn't seem to have any overall weaknesses other than he is a little trigger happy so if he shoots you, you'll probably get hit a bunch." Cricket stated.

"So, what do you suggest?" Oakley asked.

"Actually, hand-to-hand combat is not really my strong suit. I am hoping it's something that you know something about?" Cricket asked.

"You bet your ass I do partner." Oakley said before kicking the door wide open.

Taking a bee line toward Salvo seated to her left, Oakley howled at the top of her lungs as he looked up at her in shock and surprise. Salvo barely had time to raise his gun before she reached him. Propelling herself laterally off the left wall, Oakley sprung-shot herself back toward Salvo kicking her leg out and knocking the paintball gun out of his hands. Unholstering one of her six shooters, she fired from her hip, hitting Salvo square in the face. Yellow paint exploded across his eyes and cheeks and he let out a scream. Oakley then dropped to a crouch and delivered a short jab to Salvo's groin. Salvo hunched over letting out a groan. Oakley made sure to keep his big body in front of her, preventing Shockwave from getting a clear shot.

Frustrated, Shockwave sent out a string of shots trying to hit Oakley. Shielding herself behind Salvo, paint splattered next to her on the walls. Salvo grunted again as a few shots hit him in the back. She delivered another boot to his groin. Letting out a howl of pain and anger, Salvo lunged at Oakley.

Coming at her with a powerful left hook, Oakley dodged the punch and shoved him off balance. Still partially blinded by the paint, Salvo tumbled to the ground. Oakley stayed behind him, and the second he hit the floor, she popped up and fired two shots, hitting Shockwave in the goggles. Patting Salvo on the back, Oakley helped him to his feet.

"Sorry about that big fella. No hard feelings I hope." She said as the door to the fifth level opened. Oakley strutted out of the room, tipping her Stetson at Shockwave who was wiping paint from his goggles.

The final level was top secret. All who had completed the Gauntlet before were sworn to secrecy, but what everyone did know, was it was one the most physical and mentally challenging obstacles a Joe could face. Oakley unholstered her six shooters and carefully walked down the stairs.

"Stay sharp. Who knows what will be coming at us." Cricket stated and started to run a scan.

Oakley stopped, surprised at what she saw. At the bottom of the stairs, was a square steel table with a VR Headset and a set of interface gloves. Spinning her guns back into her holster, Oakley calmly approached the table. As she did, a message flashed from the schematic coming from her contact lens. It read, remove eye and earpieces and put on the googles and gloves.

"Cricket? Are you seeing this?" Oakley asked Elise with apprehension.

"Yes. I see it. We should stay connected when you put on the VR headset." Elise advised.

"Whatever you say partner. You helped us get this far." Oakley replied.

She removed her Stetson hat and placed it upside down on the table next to the gaming gear. Then, she removed her com pieces and put on the gloves and VR Headset. Cricket returned in her ear.

"Ok. I'm back. It looks like the simulation is loading. We should see what we are in for soon." Elise stated.

After a few moments, the screen went blank. An image slowly faded into focus of a man dressed in black boots with a blue jumpsuit and a red tactical Kevlar vest. He wore black knee and shoulder pads and a high cut ballistic helmet. The operative's code name was Scrap Iron. His arsenal consisted of three grenades, an AK-47 assault rifle, and a Glock sidearm.

The mission readout indicated that Scrap Iron's last known location was off Route 555 in western Colorado, traversing up the San Juan mountainside by Red Mountain Pass. The objective was to stop the enemy threat and protect the local civilian population. Oakley navigated to the next section of the mission to a screen titled Armory. A list of icons representing different weapons appeared in front of her. Without hesitation, Oakley chose two Colt .45 pistols. With her selection, the program limited her to twelve bullets.

"If you use a different weapon, you will have more shots." Elise stated.

"Don't need 'em. These will do just fine." Oakley exclaimed.

The system then displayed a topographical map of Colorado that zoomed into a steep mountainside cut by the winding two-lane road of Route 555. There were no guardrails, and the edges of the road curved around the steep rock face. High jagged rocks loomed above, scattered with clusters of pine trees.

Oakley suddenly found herself standing on a ledge up the mountainside, about thirty feet above a stretch of road.

"Start scanning the area. I will see if I can locate Scrap Iron on my tracker." Cricket stated.

Oakley began searching up and down and saw a small figure ascending the rock face above her running toward a small cluster of pines. Cricket's scan locked on the figure and the readout confirmed it was Scrap Iron. He had his assault rifle strapped over his back as he tested another foothold and hoisted himself up another few feet.

Oakley began climbing the steep incline, grasping and hoisting herself up a series of jagged rocks. About ten feet above her, she saw a small precipice that jetted out from the rockface. Digging her foot in, she began scaling toward the small bluff. As she closed in, a loud shot echoed from above her. She looked up just in time to doge out of the way from a large boulder that exploded a few inches from her head. Looking through the cloud of pebbles and dust, Oakley saw Scrap Iron aiming at her with his side arm. He had spotted her, and she realized she completely exposed.

Oakley dropped to her prior foothold behind a tall slate of stone as a series of bullets exploded off the rock above her. Instinctually, Oakley pressed her back against the stone and removed her pistols from her holster. The contact lens from her eye started another scan of the area.

"Look down where you came." Cricket said.

Oakley looked down. The scan analyzed the bedrock below zooming in on one crag. Cricket's analysis showed if Oakley could reach the rock below, she would have a clear line of sight at Scrap Iron.

"I see what you are going for." Oakley said before Cricket had time to speak.

Without hesitation, Oakley jumped down the mountainside landing square on the rock slab. Ducking into a roll, she came out firing. Three shots blasted into the pine tree directly behind Scrap Iron, hitting right above his head. Splinters and bits of wood exploded as he ducked down, covering himself with his hands.

Sensing an opportunity, Oakley fired again at Scrap Iron. As he ducked once more, Oakley jumped up the rockface and hoisted herself up to the precipice that jetted out of the mountain. Scrap Iron regained his composure and knelt on one knee aiming his rifle. Sensing the attack, Oakley dropped and returned fire, letting off another series of shots as Scrap Iron's bullets soared past her head. The shots hit right below Scrap Iron's feet, sending him toppling backward. As he scurried to get up, Oakley fired again, hitting him square in the gut. Scrap Iron flopped to his side, writhing in pain.

"You got him!" Cricket yelled.

"It's a gut shot. I'm not sure if it penetrated his armor and if so, what damage it did." Oakley replied.

Holding out her pearl handled Colt, she searched for any sign of Scrap Iron. Cricket began a scan of the trees. Without warning, Scrap Iron jumped up, hurling two grenades down at Oakley.

"Oh crap." Cricket said.

Oakley jumped toward the rockface, pinning her back against the slate as the grenades exploded above her. An avalanche of boulders plummeted down the mountainside like a waterfall. Oakley shifted away from the tumbling rocks and looked up toward Scrap Iron. He was about twenty yards above them, limping away into a cluster of trees. I did get through his armor, Oakley said to herself. Checking her six-shooter, she confirmed she had one shot left. Looking up, she saw Scrap Iron's back completely exposed.

Preparing to fire, Oakley looked down at the cascade of rocks plummeting down the slope. Suddenly, the schematic in Oakley's eye piece lit up and zoomed in on a small SUV driving down the road below. A quick calculation revealed the avalanche would hit the SUV was passing by. Oakley and Cricket stared in horror as the landslide crashed over the narrow road below them, knocking the car on its side, covering it with rubble.

Whipping her head up, Oakley saw Scrap Iron had continued to scale the mountain putting more distance between them. Oakley knew they could either eliminate Scrap Iron or save the family down below. Looking down at the wrecked SUV, she wondered if she could even get there in time. Cursing under her breath, Oakley started scaling down the rockface toward the overturned SUV.

Without arguing, Cricket began scanning the distance to the car and highlighted the best footholds for Oakley to traverse. Cricket also calculated the amount of rubble resting on the SUV and how much time before the weight of the debris crushed the car. They had ninety seconds.

Reaching the road, Oakley raced to the car. The front was completely covered in rubble and the only piece that was exposed was the trunk. Peering in the back windshield, Oakley shouted inside, asking if everyone was alright. All she heard were the acute cries of a trapped child.

"There's a kid in the car!" Oakley shouted.

Moving around the side of the trunk, Oakley flipped her Colt over and smacked the window with the butt of her gun, shattering the glass onto the road. Then, she hopped into the car. The interior of the SUV was nearly pitch black and Oakley could hear the roof creaking from the impending weight of the rock. She jumped into the back seat and found a small boy trapped in his car seat.

"Don't worry little man. I'm gonna get you out of here." Oakley said looking at the soft pale face of the scared little child. He nodded and sniffled as tears streamed down his cheeks.

"My mom. She's not talking." He said.

Oakley looked toward the driver's seat and saw the back of a woman's head, her hair matted, partially soaked in blood. Leaning into the front seat, Oakley grabbed the woman's wrist and felt a faint pulse. She then returned to the boy, trying to unlock his car seat.

"Your mom's alive. I'm gonna get you out and come back for her, ok?" Oakley said. The car frame groaned as the pressure from the rocks bore down.

"The seat's stuck." The little boy proclaimed. More tears began streaming down his face. Oakley placed a hand on his lap.

"Hold your ears, ok?" She asked.

The boy quickly covered both ears with his hands tightly. Aiming her pistol at the jammed seat belt lock, Oakley fired her last shot at the lock and the boy popped free of the restraints. Grabbing the child, Oakley carried him out of the truck onto the road.

With the child safe, she jumped back in the car and moved to the front. She unlatched the seat belt however, the front of the SUV had collapsed over the driver's left leg trapping the woman. Not knowing what to do, Oakley heard Cricket come over the line.

"Recline the driver seat all the way back. That should give you enough slack to get her out." Cricket stated frantically.

Oakley reached over the woman, found the seat recliner, and tilted the lever all the way down. The seat unfolded flat and Oakley got behind her and pulled the woman out. The woman groaned in pain, but her legs came free. At that moment a loud crash came from above, and the SUV shook with a series of loud cracks.

"Ten seconds!" Cricket screamed.

Grabbing the woman's shoulders, Oakley pulled them both into the trunk. She then positioned her back under the woman and heaved up, trying to push her out of the car. Another series of pops sounded as she lifted with all the strength left in her legs.

"Come on mama bear." Oakley whispered as she thrusted the woman up and out onto the street.

Then, the frame of the SUV gave way, crushing the vehicle under thousands of pounds of rock. The simulation went black and a red message appeared in Oakley's VR headset that read, Cadet KIA.

Howling in anger, Oakley tore off the VR Headset and threw it to the ground. A door slid open in front of her, and she grabbed her hat and stormed through in anger. We almost made it, she cursed to herself.

Elise sat looking at her monitor in her tiny cubicle. The display indicated that Oakley was killed and that the Gauntlet had concluded. A line of text appeared, restating the initial objective of Level 5. It read, stop the enemy threat and protect the local civilian population. The cursor at the end of the sentence blinked. Elise waited for the program to process. The line of text disappeared and was replaced with another that read, Calculating score. After a few more moments three words faded onto the screen that made Elise gasp. They read, Congratulations, Gauntlet Complete.

Chapter 23

Eighteen years ago.

The Baroness sat on the cold cement floor with her back to the wall staring at the barred window of her cell door. Her right eye was purple and swollen, limiting her view to a cloudy fog. She licked her calloused lips and tasted dried blood. Shifting her weight, she grabbed her stomach and groaned slightly, the pain coming from two broken ribs.

She heard the loud screech of the cell block door open followed by shouts in Arabic. The voices grew louder until the door in front of her swung wide and two soldiers dumped Flint onto the floor. His pants were torn off at the knees and his shirt was ripped and stained gray. Flint writhed on the ground as the soldiers laughed and spit on him, kicking him a few more times before slamming the door behind them.

The Baroness shifted onto her knees and began to crawl toward Flint. Gently, she placed her hand on his shoulder. He was shivering. Grabbing him as best she could, she dragged him back to the wall and rested his head on her lap. As he convulsed in her arms, she slowly ran her fingers through his hair, trying to calm him down. After an hour, he stopped shivering and fell silent. The Baroness laid a hand on his cheek as Flint finally spoke.

"I got it." Flint stated, raising his head off the Baroness's lap, smiling through a pair of black eyes.

He stood up and adjusted his pants. From a hidden pocket sewn on the inside of his belt loop he removed a small wooden clothespin. He held the clothespin in front of him. The Baroness's eyes went wide. Ignoring the pain in her side, she quickly scurried over to the brick wall on the right side of their cell. Positioning her fingernails around one of the bricks, she slowly wiggled it free. She placed the brick softly on the ground and reached into the small hiding space. Pulling out a wrapped piece of cloth, she laid it on the floor and unraveled it.

Flint crawled over and stared at the items on the floor. There was a small block of wood, two nails, a roll of tape, two rubber bands, a piece of wire, a piece of conductive fabric, a tiny AM radio, and an old cell phone charger. Flint added the clothespin to the pile and removed his dog tags. Smiling at the Baroness he popped one of the tags open to reveal a Gemma M0 microcontroller board.

All Joes carried a microcontroller board in their tags in case they needed to signal for help. During their training, they were taught to construct a Morse code paddle using the Gemma M0 with common objects. In prison, the interrogation sessions and daily cleaning work provided them multiple opportunities to acquire each item. As they took kicks and punches, scrubbed toilets, or washed prison uniforms, they would scan the room. If they saw something they needed, they would acquire it.

One time when the Baroness was being questioned, she noticed a guard standing by the door listening to a small AM radio. During the interrogation, she screamed and charged the guard biting him in the ear. It was then that the guards broke her ribs, but she was able to knock the radio onto the floor and shove it in her pocket. Little by little, they acquired everything needed to build the transmitter.

The Baroness watched as Flint skillfully put the device together, staring at him with admiration. They had developed a bond during their incarceration, and while his gruff exterior threw her off at first, she realized they shared many of the same interests. She was surprised to hear he attended Oxford and even more surprised he was a Rhodes Scholar. Like she, he had a love for nineteenth century Spanish poetry, and would recite some of her favorites by Maria Rosa Galvez de Cabrera.

Since she left home, her instincts and values told her to hate men like Flint, but as she spent more time with him, the only feeling she felt was love. He was brave, stubborn, brilliant, cunning, strategic, tough, and caring. Destro held all these qualities as well, but it was different with him. With Destro, she saw them spending their days travelling in luxury, surrounded by constant adventure. With Flint, she felt something different. She saw them growing old together, building a family, being happy, at peace. She shook the emotions away as Flint fastened the clothespin to the makeshift Morse code paddle. He smiled at her and hovered his finger above the clothespin, hesitating for a moment.

"Are you ready?" Flint asked. The Baroness smiled. She nodded and grabbed his hand.

"I'm ready." She replied.

Flint began tapping down on the paddle, relaying their distress call. After sending the message he carefully wrapped the contraption in the cloth and handed it to the Baroness. She placed it back in the hole in the wall and put the brick back in place. Then, she walked over to Flint.

"How much time do we have?" The Baroness asked.

"The message will loop for the next twenty-four hours. The emergency channel is monitored actively, so I am thinking we have less than a day before our rescue arrives." Flint stated.

The Baroness took a short step forward, closing the distance between them until the tip of her nose brushed against his. She leaned her forehead on his and grabbed him gently around the waist. Flint was surprised, but then let out a deep breath and pulled her close. She whispered in his ear.

"Then let's make the most of our time together." She replied as she grabbed the back of his head and kissed him deeply.

Now.

The Baroness brushed off the memory as her onyx Rolls Royce Wraith sped up the intestate past the exit sign for St. Joes. Now a defunct mining town, St. Joes was once one of the most economically viable in the state. The Pike River's fast flowing whitewater was an ideal spot for textile mills and plants. By the eighties however, many of the mills closed, and towns like St. Joes began to dwindle and decay. The main strip downtown looked like a fossilized museum of what the world used to be like. The Rolls Royce downshifted as it rolled through the center of town. Deborah Minh looked out the passenger side window at the line of empty storefronts.

"Residents fear this town is dying. But in reality, it's already dead." Deborah said as the luxury car sped out of the small town.

"Not dead." The Baroness stated. "Just ignored. We will make sure that all eyes are back on all parts of Vermont. It will thrive once again." She said, looking at Deborah grinning.

The Baroness had changed back into her long black leather jacket with matching tactical jumpsuit and combat boots. Her ruby medallion dangled around her neck. The Rolls maneuvered onto a rural road flanked by lines of trees. It was late November, and the branches of the maples and oaks stood naked, shifting in the cold brisk wind. The Baroness turned right onto a dirt path that curved and disappeared into the thick forest.

The gravel crackled under the wheels as the car ascended. A tall ridge of birches and pines rose into the gray sky above them. A series of Private Property and No Trespassing signs were planted on the sides of the road indicating they were under video surveillance and that the owners would prosecute any trespasser to the full extent of the law. After a couple of miles, the narrow dirt path widened as it reached a plateau. As the car slowed to a stop, Deborah saw four large circular gray silos rising out of the forest, half rusted and dilapidated.

The structures were nestled by a forest of pines. Three of the four buildings were about forty feet high, while the one farthest away towered close to eighty feet. The Baroness opened her suicide door and stepped out into the cold November wind.

"Where are we?" Deborah asked as she emerged from the car. She was wearing a red winter North Face jacket with a woolen hat, mittens, and a pair of black Burton all-mountain ski pants.

"The Nolan Radar Station. A relic from the Cold War, it only was functional from 1956 to 1963. The government's goal was to place dozens of these mobile radar stations across the country. The idea was they would act as an early warning for the government's Strategic Air Command air bases." The Baroness replied as they reached the door to the facility.

Deborah looked up at the pine trees that bristled and slapped the building in the wind. The door was frozen halfway ajar, rusted solid. There was just enough space for them to squeeze through. Inside, the building was sparse except for a few metal desks and tables, and four or five mattresses, left by passing transients. The walls were painted in graffiti and beer cans and wrappers were strewn on the floor. Gusts of wind bounced off the silo's walls, echoing up into the vast space above them.

"When the facility shut down in sixty-three, it changed ownership multiple times before Cobra acquired it in the mid-eighties under the shell company Enterprise Industries." The Baroness continued.

"Mid-eighties?" Deborah asked.

"My dear Governor. Cobra has had a presence in Vermont for decades. Under our very feet is our main base which we built into the caves and mine shafts below. Two years ago, the south end of the facility was discovered and destroyed by the Joes, but the majority of the base is still operational. I had its main generators turned back on weeks ago." The Baroness said as she walked through the circular structure.

She approached a small room that jetted out from the wall. The room was made of solid steel, had no windows, and appeared to fit one, possibly two people at a time. The door was locked, covered with dents and stains. The Baroness reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a set of tubular keys.

Inserting one into the keyhole, the door unlocked. It screeched as the Baroness pried it open. Deborah peered in and saw a steel elevator door. The Baroness walked to the elevator, inserted another tubular key and the door slid open. Walking in, there was only one button which the Baroness pushed and they started their descent.

"The base lies three miles underground." The Baroness said as the elevator slowed to a stop.

When the door opened, the two women walked into a long corridor lit by a string of fluorescent lights. The Baroness led them down the hallway into a room with a large monitor mounted on the wall under a series of keyboards. To the right and left of the monitor were a wall of cabinets that reminded Deborah of a safety deposit vault.

The Baroness walked up to the console, flipped a switch, and typed in a few keystrokes until the monitor began to flash. Green DOS text flashed on the screen requesting identification. After the Baronesses entered her information, the computer requested a command. She typed Storm_012 and after clicking enter, a soft hiss came from their right as one of the cabinet drawers slid open.

Walking over to the cabinet, the Baroness reached in, and pulled out a medium sized pelican case. The cover of the case was branded with the word S.T.O.R.M. 012. The Baroness opened the case, revealing a small keyboard, monitor, and a keyhole for another tubular key. After entering a string of keystrokes, the monitor flashed on and a string of code began to stream down the screen.

"S.T.O.R.M. 012 is now synching with the main computer." The Baroness said as she turned to Deborah.

"S.T.O.R.M. 012?" Deborah asked, looking at the monitor.

"S.T.O.R.M. 012 is a climate conductor. This is the twelfth iteration of the device since we tested the first model over thirty years ago. My late husband was its original creator. He called it the Weather Dominator." The Baroness replied, chuckling to herself before continuing.

"The original version was at least a hundred times larger, and a hundred times easier to track down and destroy. Since the first model, we have made numerous updates and upgrades, reducing its size and ability to be detected." The Baroness stated.

"How does it work?" Deborah asked, completely intrigued.

"It triangulates data from two of our satellites and a local power source. Then, it manipulates temperatures, currents, and drafts at multiple levels of the atmosphere, enabling us to create and target specific weather patterns. The S.T.O.R.M. also allows us to control the strength and duration of whatever climate we choose." The Baroness smiled proudly.

"How does it function undetected?" Deborah asked. The Baroness's smiled widened.

"The S.T.O.R.M. requires a local power source. However, because of its output, it needs a significant amount of power to operate. This is tricky when trying to stay under the radar from local authorities. Unless of course…" The Baroness trailed off waiting for Deborah to make the connection. Deborah's eyes went wide.

"…unless you already have an established relationship with local politicians in the area." Deborah finished the thought.

"My dear Governor, you are correct." The Baroness stated.

She inserted the tubular key and gestured down at the monitor to Deborah. Deborah saw a flashing cursor requesting a code authorizing access to the wind turbine power generated from her Green Mountain Energy projects.

"If the S.T.O.R.M. is connected to a natural power source, fluctuations in local weather make it difficult to account for any energy expenditure." The Baroness added, waiting for Deborah to enter her code.

"What do you intend to do?" Deborah asked. The Baroness's eyes narrowed.

"The code." She commanded.

Deborah hesitated for a moment, and then leaned over and entered the code. After a moment, the large monitor on the wall flashed and the image of a dam appeared on the screen. Deborah immediately recognized it as Thompson Dam, just south of their location.

"The S.T.O.R.M. will create a weather pattern which will dump torrential rains on St. Joes unlike it has ever seen, causing the rivers to rise, and ultimately, the Thompson Dam to break." The Baroness stated. Deborah's mouth opened in shock.

"Why would you want to flood Thompson Dam? That would leave the southern town of Riverbury in the flood's direct path?" Deborah asked alarmed.

"Yes. It certainly would. And when the floods come, Saturn Industries will be in the perfect position to rescue the townspeople. Your decision to back Saturn will be paid back in spades, you will gain national attention, and your re-election will be all but assured." The Baroness replied as she returned to the S.T.O.R.M. device.

With another few keystrokes a radar map appeared on the screen of Northern Vermont. The screen played out a weather simulation for the next twelve hours. Large dark green patches of precipitation hovered and expanded over the area of St. Joes with an emerald glow.

Deborah breathed deeply, trying not to let everything overwhelm her. She repeated everything the Baroness said back in her head. Thinking about the dam, she thought of something the Baroness possibly overlooked.

"But, the dam. It's monitored by two guards who live onsite. They are in constant contact with the local power company. How do you expect to deal with that?" Deborah asked. The Baroness continued to smile.

"Do not worry about the dam. I have the situation well under control." The Baroness said.

All Deborah could do was nod and stare as the dark green growing of the STORM's radar got larger, circling the town of St. Joes.

A light drizzle had begun to fall on the small cobble stone farmhouse that sat thirty yards from Thompson Dam. The farmhouse was a single structure with a gable roof and a center chimney. Two sets of six-by-six pained windows looked out on either side of a large red door. A steady smoke billowed out of the chimney as Teresa Westing sat in the kitchen, finishing her lunch which consisted of a BLT, potato chips, and gherkins.

Her father sat across from her gently patting his chest, sipping a cup of coffee. He had been the live-in operator for the Thompson Dam for the past forty years. Teresa had returned home five years ago after graduating from Lakeside University to help him take care of their mother who had stage four cancer. After her mother died, she left to start a career as a civil engineer in Boston, but the homesickness was too great, so she returned to help her father with the uptake of the dam. Getting up, she took her and her father's lunch plates to the sink and looked out the window.

The light drizzle had turned into a steady rain. She looked to the fridge where a small white board was mounted listing their daily to-dos. On the top of the whiteboard was a cartoon of a beaver with text that read, Dam Important Things to Do. Underneath scribbled in marker were the words, Gate House Check. She turned back toward her father.

"Looks like the rain has picked up. Probably going to be a soggy walk to the Gate House." Teresa said. She heard her father stir in his seat.

"Odd. The weather report said it was going to be clear through next week." He said quietly.

"Well, welcome to Vermont." Teresa replied sarcastically.

Soon, both father and daughter were dressed in matching yellow waterproof overalls and raincoats, trudging through the mud across the top of the earthen levy. Thompson Dam was 178 feet tall, and 2,920 feet long. It had a 373-foot concrete section in the center that was flanked by 2,547 feet of natural embankments. The spillway was located in the middle of the dam and consisted of four large radial arm Tainter gates that controlled the water flow.

Currently, two gates were open, lowering the reservoir to provide space for the incoming snow melt. Teresa led the way with her father behind her. She looked at the power station situated just below the dam next to the riverbed. In addition to regulating water levels, the dam also generated power on demand.

By the far side of the dam was the Gate House. The Gate House was a small symmetrical square brick building that straddled the bedrock by the tree line. As they got closer, Teresa saw two individuals standing in front of the Gate House door.

She tried to make out who they were but with the wind and the rain, it was difficult for her to see. It wasn't uncommon for them to get visitors, but something about these two made Teresa apprehensive. It wasn't until they were about twenty yards away that she could make out their Vermont Power Company shirts.

One of the individuals was a woman, standing about five foot six and petite. Teresa looked at the woman and guessed she was in her forties. The other individual was an older man, who looked in his sixties, probably close to her father's age. The man was close to six feet tall and had dark skin and scarring underneath each eye. Wisps of gray hair flowed underneath his worn company baseball cap. He held a medium sized carrying case. The younger woman greeted them as Teresa approached.

"Ms. Westing?" The woman asked. "My name is Brook Lafayette. This is Michael Daley. We got a power reading an hour ago that the station was reading close to 140,000 kilowatts and 13,000 cubic feet per second." The woman stated looking concerned. Teresa stopped short with a confused expression across her face.

"Impossible." She stated. "Must be a glitch in your system. We have been lowering the water level of the reservoir the past week."

"That's what we were thinking. But my boss got burned last time for not double-checking so here we are." The woman stated, smiling.

The woman reached in her pocket and produced her identification and a piece of paper. The rain had increased to a steady downpour and the woman had to shout a bit louder over the splattering deluge falling around them.

"Here's my ID and a printout of the report. If we can just verify everything is ok, we'll be out of your hair." She said as she gave the documents to Teresa. Teresa began looking them over but stopped short and motioned to the Gate House.

"Let's get out of the rain so I can look these over." Teresa shouted and quickly moved to the Gate House door.

She removed a large ring of keys from her raincoat and unlocked the door. The group ran into the Gate House shaking their jackets and hair, happy to be out of the downpour. Teresa removed her jacket hood and unfolded the piece of paper the woman gave her. It was blank.

The moment she looked up for an explanation was when the shot hit her. Teresa was propelled backward from the force of the bullet which blasted through her sternum. She hit the concrete floor violently. Trying to sit up, she grasped at her chest which began to feel wet and warm.

Trying to get up, her body wouldn't let her. Looking baffled and scared, Teresa saw the older man was holding a gun. Her father had come her side and she saw the man aim the gun at the back of his head.

Teresa tried to scream out but all she could muster was a wet garbled cough. Tears streamed from her eyes as her father slumped lifeless to the ground. Lying on her back the room began to grow dim. Wheezing softly, her world soon disappeared.

The woman in the Vermont Power Company Jacket strolled over and crouched by Teresa Westing. For a few seconds, the only sound was the raging dam and the ongoing pelting from the torrential downpour outside. The old man finally broke the silence.

"Excellent diversion and deception, Zanya." He said walking over to Teresa's father.

Rolling the body over on its back, the old man put down his carrying case and opened it, revealing a portable 3D printer. To the right of the printer was a small hand-held scanner. Across the scanner read the letters M.A.S.K.

The old man flipped a switch on its side and a green glow emerged from the top of the scanner. Crouching by the dead man's head, he scanned his face.

Standing, he handed the scanner to Zanya who crouched down by Teresa and scanned her face. The old man then walked back to the 3D printer and looked at the small digital display. The readout read, Scan complete. Latex mask commencing.

"It shouldn't take long for the masks to print. Then, we'll hide the bodies and resume command of the dam without anyone noticing." The old man said. Zanya nodded.

"Father. It's good to be working with you again." Zanya stated.

"It is, isn't it?" Zartan replied with a wide grin. "But let's look lively now. After all, we have a dam to break."

Chapter 24

Flint, Blue Jaye, and General Spirit sat in the small conference room of the Lakeside Police Department. Flint was leaning upright on the wall, and Blue Jaye and Spirit were seated at the small table. Mainframe had gone back to MIT a month ago, but under Spirit's orders, Blue Jaye remained. Even though they stopped the assassination attempt, the Baroness had remained by Deborah's side.

Spirit and Flint had been adamant they missed something, and that the Baroness's presence indicated something more heinous was boiling close to the surface. However, election day had come and gone without incident. Deborah's inaugural speech was heavily guarded, but there were no additional attempts on her life.

Instead, the Baroness continued to publicly support Deborah's administration, and was becoming a familiar face at local fund-raising events and parties. The photo on the front cover of yesterday's newspaper was of Deborah cutting a ceremonial ribbon at the opening of the new Lakeside Aquarium. The Baroness was dressed in her long black leather trench coat smiling and applauding in the background.

"Do you think that Deborah is in with the Baroness?" Spirit asked.

"I am not sure. Either Deborah is an unknowing accomplice or caught in some kind of entrapment. For all we know, Deborah could be an active participant of the Baroness's plans. There is just no intel. The Baroness hasn't left any clues." Blue Jaye said.

"She won't." Flint added, looking down at his boots.

Sherriff Jason Smith burst through the door hastily. His face was covered in a growing stubble and he had dark circles under his eyes. He sighed as he took a seat at the table.

"Sorry I'm late. I was held up in St. Joes. The Sherriff there requested additional resources to help with road maintenance and sandbagging due to the ongoing rains." The Sherriff said, wiping down the front of his uniform, making himself as comfortable as he could.

"Not a problem Sherriff. Do you need any help from us?" Spirit asked. The Sherriff waved Spirit off and smiled.

"Nothing we can't handle. Just a scramble moving everyone around. So, where are we?" He asked.

"Same place as we were yesterday." Blue Jaye said.

"And the day before that, and the day before that. We just can't figure out what the Baroness is up to." Flint grunted again as he leaned on the wall.

There was a knock on the door and the Sherriff's assistant Ellen popped her head in, letting the Sherriff know the mayor of St. Joes was on the phone, asking for any additional resources. The Sherriff cursed to himself and excused himself from the room.

"The Sherriff seems stretched pretty thin by this rain. Are you sure we shouldn't bring in additional help?" Flint asked Spirit.

Spirit removed his cowboy hat, placed it in his lap, and tenderly stroked the eagle feathers on its side. Raising his head, he turned toward to Flint.

"No. But I think it is time to get you into the action." Spirit replied.

"Finally." Flint said, pushing himself off the wall.

"But you are to remain covert. If the Baroness sees you, this whole thing will go sideways." Spirit interjected.

"We have done sideways before." Flint retorted.

"Yes, but not without a cost." Spirit shot back and continued before Flint could interrupt again.

"It's decided. The Sherriff and Blue Jaye will be on the front lines. You will remain hidden in the shadows. If you're spotted, you're out." Spirit concluded.

The Sherriff came through the door again, his face frustrated and stressed.

"These rains are unbelievable." The Sherriff said, slinking back into his chair. "The lower mountain pass leading out of St. Joes is completely washed out. Homes are being evacuated and we are keeping an eye on Thompson Dam. Luckily, the dam operators there have reported no immediate threat. The levels are rising but are well within their capacity. I can't remember the last time we've seen rain like this."

Blue Jaye suddenly pulled the laptop on the table in front of her and brought up the local weather report. Looking at the ten-day forecast, she saw that rain was predicted for every single day at one hundred percent probability. Sherriff Smith looked at her wondering what she was thinking.

"What if it is the rain?" Blue Jaye asked plainly. Flint and Spirit cocked their heads curiously toward Blue Jaye.

"Excuse me?" The Sherriff asked, not sure what Blue Jaye was referring to.

"The rain. What if that was what the Baroness is here for?" Blue Jaye inquired again.

"I'm sorry, I'm not following." Flint said.

"Ok. The Baroness came here months ago and began her relationship with Deborah Minh by providing her access to Saturn Industries rapid rescue response resources, correct?" Blue Jaye said.

"Yes, that's right." The Sherriff said, trying to follow Blue Jaye's train of thought.

"So, who do you think is going to come to the rescue with all this flooding? Saturn. Saturn fixes everything, Deborah is seen as a hero, and the Baroness's influence continues to grow." Blue Jaye said.

"That sounds like a long shot to me." The Sherriff said. "I mean, how would the Baroness be able to predict when it rains. To do that, she would have to…" The Sherriff stated before Flint interrupted him.

"…she would have to be controlling the weather itself." Flint whispered. The room again went silent.

"Exactly." Blue Jaye said.

"That's impossible." The Sherriff laughed. "You can't control the weather."

"That's not entirely true." Spirit interjected. Flint started to nod slowly. "The Baroness's late husband Destro, once created a device that could manipulate weather patterns. He called it the Weather Dominator. However, that machine was the size of a two-story building, and it required an incredible amount of power to run. I don't know where she could hide it without us finding it."

Blue Jaye took out her smart phone and laid it in front of her on the table. She looked at everyone who was now staring back at her confused.

"Look at my phone. It's a phone, computer, radio, can access the internet, calendars, music, cameras, flashlight, calculator, and hundreds of other features that thirty years ago, would each require their own device. Now, we can access everything from a piece of technology that fits in our pocket." Blue Jaye stated.

"I get it." Flint agreed. "But like Spirit stated, it would also require an immense amount of power. As the Sherriff said, the levels at the dam are normal. If an updated version of the Weather Dominatorwas active and running, we would have seen some indication from the power company." Flint said.

"Unless the Baroness has also compromised the dam." Spirit stated. He looked to Flint with concern. "What if Blue Jaye is right? What if the Baroness has resurrected the Weather Dominator and is causing all this rain?"

"Then we are headed for a disaster." Flint replied, taking a deep breath. "We need to investigate."

"So, what do we do?" The Sherriff asked.

"We visit the dam personally and make sure the levels they are providing are accurate." Blue Jaye stated.

"How can we verify the readings are valid?" The Sherriff asked.

"We'll double check the actual levels from the dam's power station. The readings on the power generators cannot be altered. If we can get to the generators, we can get accurate readings." Flint replied.

"The Baroness will make sure that is difficult if not possible. I am betting we can gain access to the dam, but the second we request to visit the generator, we will get hit with red tape. If that happens, we would have to show probable cause and right now, the story you are spinning just won't cut it." Spirit replied pointing at Blue Jaye.

"Unless we can get to the generator without permission." Flint interjected. "While Blue Jaye and the Sherriff are meeting at the dam with the operators, I'll gain access to the power generator and check the readings undetected." Flint stated. He looked up at Spirit who was pursing his lips and nodding slowly.

"That just might work." Spirit stated. "If there is a discrepancy with the levels, we will have probable cause on the Deborah and the Baroness. If Flint reports the levels are normal, well, then unfortunately, it's back to square one." Spirit paused and looked at everyone before continuing. They all nodded back.

"Ok. Blue Jaye and the Sherriff will head up to Thompson Dam and speak to the operators while Flint infiltrates the power generator. Sherriff, if it turns out Blue Jaye is right, you will take command of the dam and contact me immediately." Spirit concluded.

Chapter 25

Elise Jenkins, aka Agent Cricket walked through the wooden double doors of the Home Run Bar and Grille in Reston, Virginia. A hostess quickly scurried over to see if she needed anything. Easing her weight on her left arm crutch, Cricket asked the direction of the bar.

The hostess pointed toward the large island in the middle of the establishment. In front of her were tables and booths, half filled with patrons, with the wait staff constantly moving from one group to the next. The televisions were set to the Capitals Flyers game, and the majority of people were wearing white and red, routing for DC. Cricket carefully made her way around the tables to the bar.

The aged wooden countertop ran around all sides of the island, trapping the two bartenders in the middle. Over their heads hung an assortment of liquor, wine, and beer glasses that glistened from the lamps that were scattered around the pub. Behind the bartenders stood a table with seven levels of spirits and mixers.

Cricket saw Oakley hunched over a whiskey glass at the far end. The top of her Stetson hat was pulled down over her forehead. Slowly, she raised the glass for a short sip. Walking down, Cricket pulled out a stool next to Oakley. The barstool screeched as Cricket hopped on, prompting Oakley to turn toward her and smirk. She raised her glass with a sarcastic grin.

"Here's to Oakley and Cricket, the newest members of the esteemed Rescue Squad!" Oakley shouted bitterly. Cricket leaned over and put her left hand softly on Oakley's shoulder.

"Hey, what's the matter? We ran the Gauntlet. We're Joes now." Cricket said, trying to calm Oakley down.

"Joes? You don't know nothing from nothing. Joes head into a fight quick out of the chute, hell-bent for leather. Joes make hornets feel cuddly. Joes shoot craps with the devil himself. But us? We are part of the big bad Rescue Squad." Oakley replied drunkenly sarcastic. She threw back the rest of her shot.

Motioning to the bartender for another round, Cricket picked out a twenty and placed it on the counter. She nodded at the bartender when he arrived.

"Hers is on me. I'll take a tall pilsner." Cricket stated before turning back to Oakley.

"Look, I know it's not what you wanted, but if we failed to run the Gauntlet, you would be out and I would be back to square one, watching new cadets' step over me, snickering at the disabled soldier. But we did it. We ran the Gauntlet in one shot. How many Joes have done that before? How many?" Cricket demanded, surprised how worked up she was getting.

After a year-and-a-half of sweating, fighting, and seething, she finally made it, and the emotions were pouring out of her. She bore her eyes at Oakley who remained hunched over.

"So then why did they put us in rescue?" Oakley questioned.

"Because we weren't supposed to pass to begin with. Are you kidding me? Oakley and Cricket, the loose cannon and the cripple? It was a set-up, but we showed them who they were dealing with didn't we?" Cricket said, realizing she was shouting.

Oakley perked her head up. Her smirk turned to a prideful and mischievous smile. She slapped the counter, slammed down the shot, and gave a short, high-pitched yelp.

"God dam partner! If you ain't all gurgle an no guts. Ok, you got a point, I'll give you that. So, what are you thinking?" Oakley asked. Cricket shifted in her chair.

"Beachhead promised he would give us any mission we asked for if we successfully ran the Gauntlet, right?" Cricket asked.

"Correct." Oakley replied.

"Ok. So, we pick a mission that will continue to give us clout. Something big. If we succeed, then the top brass won't be able to hold us down anymore. Sure, we might be in Rescue for a bit, but if we keep doing what we do, there won't be any stopping us." Cricket finished and leaned back on her stool, waiting for Oakley to reply.

"Sounds like a rock-solid plan you got there partner. Just one question. What mission are you thinking about?" Oakley turned to fully face Cricket.

"That's why I'm here talking to you. I thought we could figure it out together." Cricket said, taking a long pull of her beer.

Cricket hadn't had any real friends since Jessie. She had gotten close to Breaker, but she was her superior, so it didn't really count. She had only known Oakley for the past few months, but she felt safe and calm around her. It was something about Oakley's confidence and candor that was mesmerizing.

"Ok, partner. Deal." Oakley said, exposing her white teeth with a big smile. She held out her hand. Cricket reached out and they shook.

"Let's get another round, and then we'll get down to it." Oakley happily suggested, motioning for the barkeep.

As Oakley relayed their order, Cricket looked up at one of the many TVs that were hung around the bar. The hockey game was in an intermission and a local news report was broadcasting. A trim, slender, and well-kept thirty-something blonde sat behind the news desk. The text that was displayed on the screen read, In Other Local News. The report began.

"In other local news, we go to Robin Sanders, reporting live from Lakeside, Vermont." The broadcaster said.

Cricket's eyes went wide. She had left Lakeside almost two years ago, about the time Jessie began her journey with the Joes. Lakeside held her last memories before her accident when she was able to walk and run. The bartender set the drinks in front of them, but Cricket was fixated on the newscast.

The screen cut to a woman standing behind a wall of barren maples and oak trees. The woman was wearing a slick blue raincoat with her hood tied tight around her head and face. Rain was coming down in sheets, and the reporter had to shout to be heard.

"Thank you, Jamie. The rains in Lakeside and Northern Vermont have been merciless, dropping over twenty inches in some areas, forcing residents to flee from their homes. The heaviest rains have been centralized in the Northern part of the state by the town of St. Joes. The state's main dam, Thompson Dam, is operating within capacity but is being monitored closely. Saturn Industries rapid response teams have been assisting with the evacuations and are ready for any instances of largescale flooding. Vermont Governor Deborah Minh has also reported that the National Guard is on full alert. Unfortunately, the weather forecast indicates more rain throughout the week. With no end in sight, residents of Vermont are struggling to find answers."

The news broadcast cut back to the anchor woman who moved on to another story. Cricket looked at Oakley who was staring back at her with a curious expression.

"I know where we're going." Cricket stated.

Chapter 26

Sherriff Smith downshifted the Lakeside police truck as he turned onto the Thompson Dam access road. Blue Jaye sat next to him in the passenger seat, and Flint was sitting in the back seat, loading his S114 shotgun. The access road was made of packed gravel and curved up a hill surrounded by forest. Raindrops battered the windshield making it difficult to see.

"Pull over at this bend here. I'll get out and head to the power station below the dam." Flint said as he put an earpiece in his ear.

"Stay in contact on your comms. We'll be able to hear you but we won't be able to respond with the dam operator standing next to us. Once you locate the meters, relay the readings. If they are different from what the operator is saying, we will move to arrest him on site." Blue Jaye stated. Flint nodded in acknowledgment.

"If there is a discrepancy with the levels, I will also call the General to coordinate any evacuations or civilian support." Flint said as he opened the car door.

The sound of the dam roared as the door swung open. The downpour pounded against Flint's rain poncho. Tucking the shotgun under the poncho, he turned to the Sherriff and Blue Jaye.

"Stay alert. The dam operator might be allied with the Baroness. Do you understand?" Flint asked.

"We will be ready." Blue Jaye shouted from the passenger seat. The Sherriff gave Flint a thumbs up, and then rolled up the window and drove the truck up the gravel road toward the entrance to the dam.

Driving up the narrow winding path, the Sherriff and Blue Jaye approached a chain linked fence adorned with multiple no trespassing signs and warnings to those without official business to turn around immediately. Through the downpour, the Sherriff and Blue Jaye could barely make out a figure draped in an oversized raincoat running to meet them.

The Sherriff flashed his headlights as the person reached the gate. Once the gate was unlocked, the person hurried over to the truck's driver side door. The Sherriff rolled down his window. Under the hood, the Sherriff and Blue Jaye could see the face of a middle-aged woman looking at them with concern.

"Sherriff Smith?" The woman asked. The Sherriff confirmed his identify, and the woman smiled and continued. "Nice to meet you. My name is Teresa Westing. I am one of the dam operators here." Zanya said.

"We were expecting a Thomas Westing. He is the one we have on file as the operator here." Blue Jaye interjected. Zanya smiled and gave a succession of rapid short nods.

"Yes, that's my dad. He has been mentoring me for the past couple years, getting me up to speed on how to operate this place. Unfortunately, he is under the weather today and resting back at the house. Probably from all this crazy weather we've been having." Zanya stated, pointing across the dam in the direction of the farmhouse. She continued.

"He told me that you were coming and to get you whatever you needed. I can take you to the front entrance. Can I hop in please? It's really coming down out here." Teresa asked, clearly uncomfortable standing in the soaking rain.

"Of course. The Sherriff said. Get in." He stated after a short pause. Unlocking the doors, Zanya, disguised as the late Teresa Westing, got in and began directing the Sherriff and Flint down the driveway.

Blue Jaye noticed that the woman who called herself Teresa had shoulder length brown hair, was petite, with broad shoulders. Her skin and face looked young, but growing wrinkles revealed she was older than her first impressions let on.

"Again, it is a pleasure to have you here, Sherriff. And you are?" Zanya asked, toward Blue Jaye.

"My name is Jaye. I am here in a support capacity with the Lakeside Police monitoring the current weather situation." She responded. Flint's voice crackled in her ear.

"I am just about to reach the power station." Flint stated in Blue Jaye's earpiece.

The truck came to a halt outside the entrance of the dam. All three ran to the door into a concrete hallway. The woman calling herself Teresa took off her raincoat and shook it out on the concrete floor.

"I can bring you to the control room to get you the most up to date readings. If you will just follow me down the hallway." The woman stated.

"Ok, I am in. It is loud in here. I have located the meters. Give me a minute and I will get a reading." Flint stated.

Zanya led the Sherriff and Blue Jaye down the cement hallway to a large room with multiple dials, levels, and two monitors displaying a variety of electrical readouts. Vibrations from the water rushing underneath them hummed softly below their feet. Zanya positioned herself below the monitors and began to speak.

"The monitor on the left displays data and readings from the spillway, or the water that disperses from the reservoir into Pike River through the tainter gates below us. The spillway was designed to handle 143,000 cubic feet per second with a maximum of 237,000 cubic feet. As you can see, we are just below 140,000. It is concerning yes, but with the current situation, understandable. However, the spillway will allow us to keep the level of the reservoir well below the maximum." Zanya paused.

The static coming from Blue Jaye's earpiece went dead. She tapped her earpiece and waited for a reading from Flint but didn't hear anything. He should have been able to confirm those readings, Blue Jaye said silently to herself. She instinctually began to worry something had happened. Letting out a short cough, Blue Jaye fixed her hair, tapping her earpiece a second time, but heard nothing.

"I noticed when we drove up, there were only two gates open. Why is that?" The Sherriff asked, interrupting Blue Jaye's thinking and bringing her back to the conversation.

"Excellent question. With the current reservoir levels, it would be dangerous to open more than two gates at a time based on the resulting water pressure. We have done our best to rotate the gates that are open to distribute the pressure evenly and reduce the risk of one breaking or compromising the infrastructure of the dam." Zanya answered.

"What about the readings from this other monitor?" Blue Jaye asked, pointing to the screen on the right, coughing and tapping her earpiece again, trying to alert Flint.

"This monitor displays the readings from the generators in the power plant below. While the spillways help us regulate the water levels of the reservoir, the generators produce power on demand. The rated capacity of the power station is 140,400 kilowatts at a flow of 13,300 cubic feet per second. The overload capacity is 191,900 kilowatts at a flow of 18,300 cubic feet per second. Right now, we are at about 138,000 and 12,500. Again, concerning, but we are doing our best and are confident everything will remain below capacity. We are in constant communication with the power company, and they have access to our system and the readings you see here." Zanya finished and looked to the Sherriff and Blue Jaye.

"Can I get a printout of these?" The Sherriff asked.

"Of course." Zanya stated. She walked to the keyboard and typed in a few keystrokes. A printer behind them started up and spat out a few sheets of paper. Zanya casually walked over and gave them to the Sherriff.

"Thank you, Ms. Westing. You have been a great help." The Sherriff stated. Zanya smiled widely.

"It was my pleasure. Is there anything else I can help you with?" She asked.

Blue Jaye began to panic. Something wasn't right. Flint was offline and he hadn't confirmed the readings. Plus, Blue Jaye had a gut feeling that this Teresa Westing was not telling the complete truth. The fact that her father was absent was also concerning.

"Yes. I do have another question." Blue Jaye added. She knew she had to stall. "Where does this hallway lead past the control room?" Blue Jaye asked.

"Out of the dam to other side of the concrete embankment and the levy." Zanya answered. A skeptic look appeared on her face. Another red flag thought Blue Jaye.

"The levy stretches to the farmhouse where my father and I stay." Zanya continued.

Blue Jaye nodded. The Sherriff looked at her wondering where she was going with this. Blue Jaye wasn't sure, but knew she had to keep stalling until they heard from Flint. She desperately wondered what happened to his audio feed. Just then, she had an idea.

"You said that the spillway's purpose was to regulate the level of the reservoir?" Blue Jaye asked.

"That's correct." Zanya replied. The skeptic look remained on her face.

"Then I think it would be good if we did a visual check of the spillway and the reservoir levels if that is no trouble? I am sure the Sherriff would feel more confident if he could report an eyewitness account when he addresses the public this evening, don't you agree?" Blue Jaye suggested.

"That's a good idea." The Sherriff concurred.

"Of course." Zanya said, clearly a little flustered. "Please, follow me." She said as she zipped up her jacket and led them out of the control room and down the cement corridor.

Flint had arrived the power station minutes earlier after sliding down a slick rock embankment to the bottom of the dam. The power station was a medium sized rectangle building with high steel walls reinforced with concrete pilons. When he reached the door, he found it locked. Reaching into his poncho, Flint removed a small leather case containing a set of tools.

He slowly began working the lock until the door popped open. Stepping through, the inside of the power station was pitch black. The generators in the middle of the room roared. Flint looked to his left and saw the wall was lined with a series of meters and levers. Flint slung his shotgun over his shoulder, placed his hand over his earpiece and spoke.

"Ok, I am in. It is loud in here. I have located the meters. Give me a minute and I will get a reading."Flint stated.

Keeping his hand over his ear, Flint listened to Blue Jaye and the Sherriff speak with the dam operator. He heard the operator report the power station's levels were 138,000 kilowatts at a flow of 12,500 cubic feet per second. Flint turned to the meters and checked the levels. His eyes went wide as they read 200,900 kilowatts and 21,500 cubic feet per second. Well over the overload, there was a good chance the power station would blow at any second, taking the dam with it.

Quickly, Flint tried to warn Blue Jaye and the Sherriff when he was hit on the back of the head, sending him stumbling forward. As he fell, Flint someone kicked his legs out from under him and he fell to the ground. His assailant then ripped his shotgun from his shoulder and tossed it to the far end of the room.

Flint saw his earpiece had fallen out on the ground. Quickly he shoved it in his pocket as he turned around to face his attacker. Standing above him, was Zartan. His face was scarred and worn, but the menacing grimace that curved below his scarred eyes was all too familiar.

Zartan wore a pair of blue workpants and a Vermont Power Station jacket. In his left hand, he held a latex mask. Water dripped from the mask's matted hair onto the floor. In his right hand, he held a Vektor pistol. He strolled casually toward Flint, laughing aloud.

"Well, well, well. Look what the decrepit, old, dying, cat dragged in." Zartan said happily in his thick Australian accent.

Flint stared at his old adversary and slowly reached into the back liner of his jacket where a small kunai knife was sheathed. The back of his neck ached where Zartan hit him. Flint grabbed the knife and whipped it out propelling toward Zartan.

Instinctually, the old Dreadnok raised his hand and blocked the knife to the ground. The attack caught Zartan off guard, and Flint jumped up and charged. He tackled Zartan at the mid-section, pushing him backward toward the generators in the middle of the room, knocking his pistol to the floor.

Zartan pounded both fists down on Flint's back as he was shoved back, giving it everything he had. At Flint's age, the finesse was long gone from his fighting style and the years of wear and tear prevented him from being as nimble as he once was. Now, he was running purely on instinct and adrenaline.

Flint grunted as he pushed Zartan hard into the generator. Zartan yelled from the force of the impact, and Flint seized the opportunity to deliver a solid right hook across Zartan's jaw. Blood coughed out of Zartan's mouth as his head shot sideways. Flint ducked low and landed a series of body blows to both sides of Zartan's ribs.

As they fought, the generators roared and sparks began to fly. The loud hum of an electrical current reverberated around them. Flint wondered how much time they had before the station exploded.

Zartan kicked his right leg straight out in front of him, hitting Flint in the gut and sending him backward. As Flint stumbled off balance, Zartan leapt forward and brought his open right hand violently down on Flint's right shoulder with a powerful chop. Zartan jumped again, spinning in the air, swinging his leg into Flint's side, delivering a perfect round house kick.

Flint shot sideways, crashing into the wall. As he tried to right himself, he looked up and saw Zartan in mid-air, his boot heel aimed squarely at his head. Flint ducked to the right, just missing Zartan's kick. Zartan's foot slammed into the wall with a force that left a clear dent. Flint retreated toward the generators in the middle of the room. Flashing red lights began to spin on top of each and alarms began to go off.

"You forget, I was trained by the same clan who taught Storm Shadow." Zartan laughed as he slowly advanced. "What makes you think you can beat me?"

Flint looked behind him at a wall lined with long metal levers. He then looked at the dent in the wall Zartan made with his boot. Getting an idea, Flint held onto his mid-section and let out a moan. Over-embellishing his injuries, he limped backwards until he touched one of the long levers mounted on the wall. Flint then winked at Zartan, baiting him to attack.

Zartan jumped toward Flint, rising and twisting into another roundhouse kick. Just before impact, Flint dodged out of the way as Zartan's boot collided with a lever, snapping it off and sending it clattering on the floor. Quickly, Flint grabbed the broken lever and whipped it into the outside of Zartan's right knee.

Zartan screamed. As he dropped to the ground, Flint swung the lever upward connecting with his jaw. Blood gushed from Zartan's mouth and he grasped his face with both hands. Holding the broken lever with both hands, Flint brought it down, landing a final blow across Zartan's back. Standing over his now unconscious foe, Flint let the lever fall to the floor with a clang.

"I'll always beat you. Because I trained with Snake Eyes." Flint said victoriously.

The alarms, sparks, and flashing lights in the power station snapped Flint back to reality. He jammed his hand into his pocket and removed his earpiece. Shoving it back in, he shouted as he slung Zartan's body over his shoulder and ran for the door.

"The power station's gonna blow! Get out of there now!" Flint yelled as he dove out the door.

Moments later, the generators exploded, sending the power station up into a fiery electric blaze. Then, the dam gave way.

Blue Jaye, the Sherriff, and Zanya pretending to be Teresa Westing, trudged on top of the levy nearing the end of the dam and the farmhouse. The Sherriff had commented that the water level of the reservoir seemed much higher than he expected. Zanya had assured them that the levels were accurate, and they were safe.

Something was not right, Blue Jaye thought to herself as a slow panic began to churn in her gut. She looked at Teresa Westing as they stood on the rain-soaked embankment looking at the reservoir and dam. Suddenly, the crackle of static returned in her ear and she heard Flint's voice shout loudly.

"The power station's gonna blow! Get out of there now!" Flint shouted.

They all twisted in the direction of the power station when it exploded. Standing in silence the station went up in a plume of red and orange fire. Electric sparks popped and shot out from the smoke. The ground then began to shift underneath them.

A loud boom came from the direction of the dam. The Sherriff, Blue Jaye, and the woman impersonating Teresa Westing, all looked at the concrete section in the middle of the spillway. A large crack appeared, cutting straight down the front of the dam. Water suddenly burst from the crack, breaking outward, sending giant pieces of concrete toppling down with the surge of water rushing down the valley. Another boom, and another section of the dam blasted apart, plumes of water erupting out of the crumbling structure. A final boom, and the dam gave way, the overpowering force of whitewater thundering through.

Blue Jaye looked on in shock, wondering how Flint could have made it out of there alive. She turned toward Teresa who also had a similar look of distress across her face. The Sherriff pulled his radio from his belt and shouted at the top of his lungs, calling for all resources to evacuate the town of Riverbury which now lay in the direct path of the largest flash flood the state had ever seen.

Chapter 27

The rain poured down as Blue Jaye, the Sherriff, and Zanya stared at the white water rushing across the countryside where Thompson Dam had once been. The crashing surf tore off chunks of earth as it ripped through trees and roads moving south through the forest. Blue Jaye searched the flood water looking for any sign of Flint but saw nothing but debris and surging foam.

Sherriff Smith was on his radio, authorizing a full and immediate evacuation for the town of Riverbury. His officer replied in a choppy static that Governor Minh had alerted her Rapid Rescue Response teams and they were currently evacuating the town. Current estimates had the flood hitting Riverbury within fifteen minutes. The Sherriff turned to Zanya who was still impersonating the dam operator, Teresa Westing.

"What happened? You said the readings were well below capacity!" His chest was heaving as he waited for a response. Zanya rubbed her hand over her forehead and grimaced.

"I have no idea. You saw the same readings that I did. Nothing indicated the dam would go." She looked like she wanted to continue but said nothing else.

Blue Jaye shot a look back at the Sherriff. The last thing Flint said to her was the dam was going to blow. That must have meant he knew the readings were different, she thought to herself. However, there was no way to confirm that without Flint, and she had no idea if he was still alive. The Sherriff walked closer toward Zanya, his eyes stern as raindrops fell off his face.

"I'm going to have to take you and your father in for questioning." He stated firmly.

"But my father is ill and has been in bed all day." Zanya pleaded.

"Sorry Ms. Westing. This is too big. Let's head to the farmhouse and see what kind of shape he's in. If he's too sick, we can have someone stay with him at the house until he can be questioned, ok?" The Sherriff stated.

Zanya shifted uncomfortably in the mud. It was a fair offer, and she could see no way around it. After a few short nods, she began leading them to the farmhouse. As they walked toward the house, two helicopters slowly descended toward an open space of lawn close by. As they touched down, Blue Jaye could see that General Spirit was flying one of the copters, and the other was being flown by a woman in a green and gold Vermont rescue jumpsuit.

Spirit hopped out of his chopper while an officer in a Lakeside Police poncho exited the other. They both ran hastily over to them. The officer waved at the Sherriff.

"Sherriff, the Governor's rescue teams are working through the evacuations. They have reported everyone should be out before the floods hit Riverbury." The officer said.

"Thank God. We need to take Ms. Westing here in for questioning. She and her father were in charge of the dam when it blew. Her father is sick and in the farmhouse. We need to talk to him. As of this moment, they are both persons of interest, understood?" The Sherriff stated, staying close to Zanya. She looked nervous.

"Sir. You are wanted back at the base in St. Joes." The officer stated. The Sherriff thought for a moment, slowly nodding to himself.

"Ok. Here's what we're going to do. I am going to take Ms. Westing back with me to St. Joes. I want you to head to the farmhouse and secure Mr. Westing. When I get to the base, I will send an officer back for you, ok?" The Sherriff stated.

The officer nodded, and then ran off toward the farmhouse. Spirit turned to the Sherriff.

"Sherriff. You head to St. Joes with Ms. Westing. Blue Jaye and I will be right behind you." Spirit said.

The Sherriff gave a quick thumbs up and then led Zanya back to the helicopter. Spirit waited until they boarded the chopper before he turned to Blue Jaye to speak.

"Flint activated his S.O.S. distress signal a few minutes ago." Spirit stated. Blue Jaye's mouth dropped, and her eyes went wide.

"He's alive?" She asked, excited and relieved.

"As of a few minutes ago at least. My tracker indicates he is a few clicks south of here, probably held up on the riverbed. He also indicated he has apprehended a suspect. If we can save them both, we can get to the governor and the Baroness." Spirit concluded. Blue Jaye nodded and they both ran back to the chopper through sheets of falling rain.

The helicopter was an Airbus H125. Its cockpit was colored gold and its tail was painted a dark green with white letters spelling Lakeside Police. Blue Jaye hoisted herself up into the chopper as Spirit began flipping switches getting ready to take off. He turned around toward Blue Jaye and motioned for her to put on her helmet so they could talk through the headset.

"What are we going to do?" She asked.

"I am hoping there is a landing spot close to where Flint is. If so, we can implement a straight-forward extraction." Spirit replied.

"What if there isn't a landing zone close by?" Blue Jaye asked as the helicopter took off.

"Then things will get difficult. Unfortunately, these refurbished AS350s, don't have a hoist or cage we can lower. So, we are going to have to improvise." He stated as he bore the nose of the chopper down and accelerated south above the raging water.

"Improvise?" Blue Jaye asked with a bit of trepidation.

"Improvise." Spirit repeated, turning his head and nodding to a case next to Blue Jaye.

Blue Jaye looked down and saw a long metal box. Opening it, she found eight metal arrows with small hooks on the nock by the fletchings. She picked one up surprised by how light they were.

"It's made of a titanium composite." Spirit said as she examined the arrows.

Blue Jaye saw a small nylon bag in a corner of the box. She pulled the drawstring open to find a roll of parachute cord.

"You'll need to fasten the cord to an arrow so we can create a line to secure Flint." Spirit stated.

A weighted fear grew in the bottom of Blue Jaye's stomach as she shakily attached the end of the cord to one of the titanium arrows. Tying the other end to the interior of the cabin, she felt completely unprepared for what she was being asked to do. Flint was alive, and probably hanging on somewhere for his life. The weight of her reality began to overwhelm her, but she shook it off and secured herself by the helicopter door. She swung the door open and any anxiety she felt before extinguished as the hard wind and rains crashed through onto her face.

"Flint's signal is getting stronger. We should be seeing him on the right." Spirit shouted as he adjusted in his seat, scanning the shore by the raging waters.

Blue Jaye searched the water as they billowed forward. Whole trees and mounds of earth bobbed up and down in the foamy whitewater. Then, she saw him. A large pine tree had been uprooted and speared itself into the earth as the surge pressed on. Flint was balancing himself on the log, waving his hands to get their attention.

"There! Right side, two o'clock!" Blue Jaye shouted as she strung Sparrow Hawk with a titanium arrow.

"I see him. Let me get a little closer." Spirit replied, and slowly maneuvered the helicopter a little lower. "I don't see anywhere to land. Looks like we're gonna have to do this the hard way." He stated.

Mist from the waves flew up into the cabin door. Flint was about five yards below them. A few feet behind him was the suspect straddling the log, his hands bound behind his back. He was an older man, probably Flint's age with long gray hair, soaked and flying in the wind. From her distant vantage point, Blue Jaye saw he had long scars under his eyes that looked like dark crevices. Even with all the chaos and the precariousness of his unstable perch, the man was smiling.

"That's about as close as I am going to get." Spirit shouted as he worked to maintain their position.

Just then, Blue Jaye saw the suspect jump up and charge Flint. She was astonished at how the man was able to keep his balance on the fallen tree. Ramming into Flint's side, they both fell backward onto the log. Flint wrapped both arms around the tree as his legs dangled over the flood waters. The suspect surprisingly broke free of his bonds and ran toward Flint. He's going to knock him off the log, Blue Jaye thought to herself as she instinctually pulled back on the bowstring.

"How much do you need this suspect alive?" Blue Jaye asked, as she raised Sparrow Hawk to fire.

"What?" Spirit asked, startled and confused.

Before he could turn around or say another word, Blue Jaye let the arrow go. The shot went low striking firmly into Zartan's thigh, its point protruding out the other side. His face contorted into an agonizing grimace and he dropped to one knee.

"Ha! Great shot!" Spirit shouted as he laughed into his com.

Flint pulled himself up and wrapped Zartan's arms behind his back. He forced Zartan face down on the tree and secured his hands with a fresh set of bonds. Leaving the arrow stuck in Zartan's leg, Flint grabbed the parachute cord and wrapped it around Zartan's waist, before tying it around his arm. He then motioned Spirit to take off. Blue Jaye gripped the side of the helicopter as it rose up and away from the flooding waters.

Chapter 28

A string of low laying clouds streaked above the golden dome of the Vermont State House. The gray granite Greek revival structure was nestled into a tree line of dark pines. A long stone path led up to the building's six pillared entrance.

The Governor's office was carpeted in red, with blue and white floral designs. The windows were high, topped with wooden arches and draped in a crimson velvet. The chairs and sofas were also red velvet, Victorian style, with hand carved mahogany trim, etched in designs of flowers and fruits. Ornate, gold-leafed picture frames hung on the walls, and a large square oaken desk rested in the middle of the room.

Governor Deborah Minh sat comfortably in her chair speaking to a group of reporters. She wore a light scarlet raincoat and her wet hair was tied back in a bun, stuck with a pen. Journalists held out microphones and recorders, listening to the Governor as she responded to their questions about the Riverbury evacuations.

"Again, I just touched down from our operations center in St. Joes. The National Guard is assembling, and our Rapid Response Team, provided by Saturn Industries, has been working actively to evacuate Riverbury and its residents. I have been working directly with the head of Saturn Industries, Anastasia McCullen, and she has reported that the evacuations will be complete before the waters reach the town." Deborah responded.

A flurry of commotion rose from the group of reporters as they shouted their follow-up questions in no particular order. Deborah waved a hand in front of her face and pointed to the man closest to her dressed in a blue flannel and corduroy pants. He wore a VT-WCAXP Press Badge and held a pen and a moleskine notebook.

"How long till the flood waters reach Riverbury?" He asked. Deborah took a deep breath before responding.

"Less than ten minutes." She replied sullenly. Another roar of commotion arose, and she pointed to a slender woman with red hair and wide framed glasses.

"What is the expected toll the flood will have on Riverbury?" The woman asked. Deborah paused and took another breath.

"We predict Riverbury will be completely destroyed. Data reports that after the flood hits, the town will be under at least seventy feet of water." She replied flatly. The reporter shot an additional question before she was interrupted by her peers.

"You grew up in Riverbury, isn't that correct?"

"That's correct." Deborah answered somberly as she wiped a few tears off across her cheek. She spoke up and continued before the reporters had a chance to ask another question.

"This is beyond tragic, but our immediate focus in ensuring we have evacuated the town. Next, we will focus on recovery. With the current support and success of Saturn's Rapid Response resources, I am confident we will be able to rebuild. I am fielding calls with many neighboring state officials who want to support us. I can guarantee that as Vermonters, our community spirit will lead us through these horrible events." Deborah concluded.

The office doors opened abruptly, and Anastasia McCullen entered with a group of security personnel. The Baroness was dressed in a long black raincoat with tall military boots splattered in mud. Strands of her silver hair were wet and glistened off the soft glow of the office chandelier.

"We have the latest report, Governor." The Baroness stated curtly in her thick eastern European accent. She shot a glare at the throng of reporters.

"Thank you, Mrs. McCullen. If you wouldn't mind, we are about to conclude our press conference, and I was wondering if you might be able to say a few words?" Deborah asked.

The Baroness returned a smile and looked toward the crowd. She gave a short nod, followed by a wide smile. Some of the reporters began to shift uncomfortably.

"Of course, Governor, of course. I would be happy to. Right now, Saturn Industries is finalizing the evacuation of Riverbury. The next step will be to set up shelters and get food and resources to the displaced residents. We have been working with the Governor's office and have identified locations for temporary shelters in many surrounding towns. If any residents would like to help, they can contact their local police departments for information about donations and volunteering." The Baroness replied, standing in front of the group of reporters.

"Is there any threat to any other towns or counties?" A male voice shouted from the back of the group.

"No. Riverbury lies in a deep valley which will hold the majority of the flood waters. Pike River will expand significantly on each side but will not endanger any other homes. We are reviewing the desctruction to the lands and wildlife and will have an assessment after the waters calm." The Baroness replied and glared back at the reporter. Another woman looked like she wanted to ask a question, but hesitated.

"If there are no more questions, I need to address the Governor in private." The Baroness stated. Governor Minh patted the Baroness on her shoulder and moved to readdress the reporters.

"Thank you all for your time. The next press conference will be in thirty minutes. I would like to ask you all to pray for the survivors as we begin to recover from this disaster." Deborah stated and began motioning for the group of reporters to leave.

The Baroness's security team lined up at the door helping funnel the crowd out of the office. As the door closed, the Baroness leaned on Deborah's desk. Deborah sat down, looking up desperately.

"How did the evacuations go?" She asked eagerly.

"Excellent." The Baroness replied. "We expect to have over ninety-five percent of all residents evacuated before the flood waters reach the town."

"Ninety-five percent?" Deborah questioned.

"There are always homes in remote, difficult-to-access areas, as well as some residents who will never leave, regardless of the circumstances. There are always losses, Deborah my dear. Even in the most successful of operations." The Baroness replied. There was a silence between the two women as they stared at each other.

"There is also a school." The Baroness stated.

"A school?" Deborah asked scared and confused.

"Yes. A middle school, under Baker's Cliff, extremely difficult for us to access. There is a group of students in an after-school program trapped with a few teachers. They are in the direct path of the flood. The waters will reach them in less than five minutes." The Baroness said. She placed her hand tenderly on Deborah's shoulder.

"Children…" Deborah whispered as she trailed off.

"Again, these are losses that happen regardless of the situation." The Baroness said. Deborah started to cry.

"Just like Carrie?" Deborah asked, tears streaming down her face.

"Just like Carrie, my dear. Just like Carrie." The Baroness replied.

Chapter 29

The olive MEDEVAC Black Hawk bore down through the rains toward Baker's Cliff. A bright red and white first aid cross was painted on its side. Inside the cabin, Elise Jensen, aka Communications Specialist Cricket sat in a customized chair by the sliding door, fastened securely in a Kevlar harness. A waterproof laptop was open and resting in her lap as she stared at the monitor, counting the seconds away until the flood waters hit the school.

The helicopter dropped and bounced in the rough weather, and Cricket closed her eyes, trying to swallow her fear. She opened them to see the numbers ticking down on the screen in front of her. They had a little over four minutes.

Looking to her left, Cricket saw the MEP evacuation kit and the oxygen-generating system for onboard patient care. The rescue Black Hawk was designed for battlefield evacuations and could hold up to eleven troops or six critical transport patients. The cabin had an environmental control system, suction machine, patient monitors, and a rescue hoist that was attached to a cage which could carry up to two adults.

When the side door of the copter was open, the chair Cricket was attached rotated out so she could control the hoist. Normally, the helicopter was driven by a crew of four, however, for this trip, there was just two, Cricket in the cabin, and Agent Oakley driving in the cockpit. The chopper bounced through the rough turbulence as the blades churned in the surging downpour.

"Beachhead is going to kill us for stealing this rescue chopper." Cricket said over the com set in her helmet.

"We didn't steal it, we commandeered it." Oakley replied jokingly. "Plus, there was no other option. Saturn's crews didn't seem to be moving. How long until the flood reaches the school?"

"Four minutes. If we make it…" Cricket said.

"We'll make it." Oakley replied assuring. "These choppers were built for this weather. My father taught me how to keep it straight and true." Oakley added as the helicopter bounced up and down again.

For a few seconds, no one spoke. They knew there was virtually no chance to save all the children at the school. From the latest reports, there were about twelve students in the afterschool program, along with teachers and student aides. With the time they had, they might be able to do two lifts with the cage. They could save six, maybe seven kids? But they had agreed that six or seven was more than none.

Cricket's brain raced as she tried to think of another option. They only had a minute-and-a-half until they arrived at Baker's Cliff, and three minutes until the floods hit. Looking out the small window of the helicopter door, Cricket saw the narrow winding road that led to the school. Memories back from when she attended Lakeside University suddenly came back to her.

She and her best friend Jessie had driven up the same road multiple times to go climbing at Baker's Cliff. It was a popular climbing spot as the rock face was steep and had numerous footholds and cracks. She remembered going there just a few weeks before her accident. Cricket closed her eyes and then, it came to her.

Quickly, Cricket began typing on her computer. She brought up a digital schematic of the cliffs and began a geological scan, trying to determine the structural integrity of the rock face. She calculated the age and type of the rock, where the crevices and cracks were, and how and where the wind made the most contact. She then overlaid the data with the approaching flood to predict where the waters would hit the cliffs. Surprising, she found that instead of a direct hit, the simulation showed the flood would curve around the cliff, sideswiping the middle school, which nestled below the rockface. If we could create a wall in front of the school, we could divert the waters, Cricket thought to herself. She ran another simulation on her computer, and her eyes went wide.

"I'm sending something to your screen now." Cricket said to Oakley.

Her heart began to beat rapidly. The fear that once gripped her was gone. She sent the data to Oakley and waited for her reply.

The cockpit of the Black Hawk was equipped with a full digital avionics' suite. Four multi-function displays fanned out in front of Oakley. The screen in front of her flashed, and she saw a digital schematic of the cliff side.

"What am I looking at?" Oakley asked over her comm.

"This is a map of Baker's Cliff. I'm gonna start the simulation now." Cricket stated.

A few seconds later, Oakley watched as five green dots lit up on different areas on the rock face. The simulation then showed the helicopter firing at each of the areas the green dots were located. Large pieces of rock fell from the cliff onto the ground as the wave of water approached. Oakley watched as the fallen rocks shielded the school from the flood.

"How confident are you this will work?" Oakley asked.

"Pretty confident, but I don't think we have any more options. What do you say?" Cricket asked in response.

"I say let's go for it. What kind of payload are we carrying?" Oakley asked.

With a few clicks of her keyboard, Cricket brought up the chopper's weapons arsenal. While they were in a Black Hawk, the MEDEVAC models were designed for emergency and medical evacuations.

"We have two hydra 70 rockets but no missiles. The two Gatling guns are fully loaded though." Cricket replied, looking down at her laptop checking the time.

They had thirty seconds. Hovering to the left of the school, Cricket entered her algorithm and in Oakley's monitor, she saw two red dots placed on the bottom of the cliff and three green dots, higher up on the rock face.

"Fire the rockets at the red dots. Then switch to the machine guns for the green dots. Copy?" Cricket asked. Fifteen seconds.

"Loud and clear partner." Oakley replied and popped the switch on her joystick, revealing a bright yellow button. As the countdown reached five seconds, the wall of flood water tore through the forest in front of them, careening off the valley walls, heading toward the school. Closing her eyes, Oakley grasped the worn and dented dog tags that hung around her neck. She opened her eyes and spoke softly.

"This one's for you, daddy." Oakley whispered as she pressed down on the yellow trigger, firing the rockets.

The rockets screamed out from under the Black Hawk with two smoke tails streaking behind as they hurtled through the rain toward the cliffs. Two large explosions blew out in a cloud of dust and soot as giant boulders fell to the ground.

Oakley moved her thumb to the right side of the joystick and flipped up the cap to the dual GAU-19 Gatling guns and pressed down as hard as she could. Guiding the line of surging bullets toward the green targets, Oakley tore lines across the cliff face. Stones crashed onto the boulders below, creating a large wall of rock and dirt that began to divert the waters. Waves hit the rocks, and as Oakley continued to move the machine gun up the cliff, another large boulder fell creating an immense splash of dirty foam. Oakley spent the rest of the payload and the Black Hawk hovered nervously, waiting for the dust to settle. A gentle mist had formed where the waters were now rushing past. Still nestled safe and sound, at the bottom of what was left of Baker's Cliff, lay the Riverbury Middle School, untouched by the flood and falling rocks.

Oakley and Cricket exchanged shouts of joy as a group of students and teachers begin to emerge on the roof of the school. Cricket slid open the side door of the helicopter and saw the students and teachers waving their hands above their heads, jumping, hugging, laughing, and crying. She waved back down to them and realized tears were also streaming down her face. She rotated her chair out of the door and lowered the cage down to the roof. As the first few students hopped in, she heard Oakley excitedly reporting that the school, kids, and teachers were safe, and they had started commencing the evacuation of the Riverbury Middle School.

Chapter 30

Agent Blue Jaye sat over a cup of coffee staring out the window at a dumpling restaurant across the street in downtown, Lakeside. A navy-blue beanie was pulled over her head and she wore a reflective raincoat with the words¸ Lakeside Public Works, printed on the back. Her face was splattered with mud as she took a slow satisfying sip. Patrons sat around her, engaged on their phones, conversations, or books.

Looking through the window, she watched the woman who called herself Teresa Westing sitting at a booth, texting on her phone, waiting for her food. After being released from Lakeside Police Department, Blue Jaye trailed Teresa to the dumpling house, wondering what her next move would be.

When General Spirit and Flint placed Zartan in a safe house for questioning, Blue Jaye had met up with Sherriff Smith at the police station to speak with Teresa Westing. When the police searched the farmhouse by Thompson Dam, they found the body of Thomas Westing, Teresa's father rolled up in sheets of plastic, shot in the back in the head. When they told Teresa her father was killed she was clearly devastated. They then showed her a picture of Zartan and she said she had never seen him before.

Spirit and Flint had told Blue Jaye that Zartan had the technology and skill to create elaborate disguises to impersonate, and even assume a person's identity. He could have easily impersonated Teresa's father without her knowing. Gaining access to the dam, he could have then manipulated the readings sent to the power company.

Blue Jaye had believed the theory until they began questioning Teresa. Her interrogation had been predictable until she continually asked where the current suspect was being detained. Blue Jaye thought it was odd that Teresa was more interested in the suspect than asking how her father died, or when she could see his body.

Blue Jaye pressed, asking why Teresa wanted to know where the suspect was being held. Teresa clarified that was she was terrified after everything that had happened, and knowing that her father's killer was locked up and under guard would make her feel safe. A plausible excuse, but Blue Jaye didn't buy it. Instead, Blue Jaye told her the suspect was at Lakeside Medical Center under twenty-four-hour armed surveillance.

Something just wasn't right about her, Blue Jaye thought to herself again. She remembered what Flint and Spirit said, how Zartan could impersonate people, and Blue Jaye began to wonder if the person sitting in the dumpling house was even the real Teresa Westing.

Because the police had Zartan in custody and there was no evidence to hold Teresa, she was released. They informed her that as the investigation continued, she would have to come in again for questioning. Teresa kindly agreed to participate in any way she could and thanked the Sherriff and Blue Jaye before she left.

As Teresa was being processed out of the police station, Blue Jaye found the Public Works jacket, wool hat, and ran out the back, splashing some mud on her face before falling in step behind Ms. Westing, eventually following her to the dumpling restaurant. Sitting in the adjacent coffee house, Blue Jaye stared out the window taking another sip.

Across the street, a waitress put a plate of steaming dumplings down in front of Teresa. Again, Blue Jaye thought it was odd that she would go to the dumpling restaurant after being released instead of taking care of family affairs. Instead, she was greedily stuffing dumplings in her face, texting on her phone.

Who was she texting? Blue Jaye asked herself as Teresa finished and got ready to leave. Blue Jaye waited until Teresa left the restaurant before following her again. Staying about a half block behind her, Blue Jaye watched as Teresa put on a green Vermont Power Company baseball cap as she weaved around people walking down the street.

A brisk November breeze shot down the alley and hit Blue Jaye clear across her face. Blue Jaye bore her head down as she trudged on in the wind. Teresa was headed toward Marketplace Square, a pedestrian street lined with shops, restaurants and tourists.

Blue Jaye turned onto Marketplace Square and was surprised at the number of tourists bustling up and down the street. It became increasingly difficult for her to keep pace with Teresa whose green baseball cap bobbed up and down ahead of her. Blue Jaye saw Teresa turn down a narrow brick alleyway which led to a parking garage. Turning down the alley, Blue Jaye saw Teresa had reached the far end.

Suddenly, Teresa broke into a full run into the garage. Blue Jaye swore and ran after. When she reached the garage, Teresa's green hat was lying on the ground. Next to it was what looked like a pile of wet, matted hair. Blue Jaye squatted and creeped closer, removing a pen from her jacket. Defensively, she poked the pile of hair with the pen.

Crouching lower, Blue Jaye used the pen to roll the clump of hair over. She gasped when she realized it was a latex mask lying in front of her. Blue Jaye stared into the mask's hollow eyes and the pieces began to fall into place.

"Oh, no." She whispered to herself, before grabbing the mask and running back down the alleyway toward the police station.

Zanya ducked out of the garage and down a side street lined with apartment houses. She saw a group of college kids walking up the hill toward the University. Falling in step behind them, Zanya blended into the crowd and looked down at her phone which was vibrating in her hands. There was no name, just a number, but Zanya recognized it. Hitting the call button, she put the phone to her ear.

"Were you followed?" The Baroness asked.

"For a little while, but I was able to shake them." Zanya replied. There was a short silence on the line.

"As you know, Congratulations will have to wait until the rest of your party is secure." The Baroness stated.

"Understood." Zanya said. "I will gather the necessary resources and get it done." There was another short silence. "Are you still there?" Zanya asked.

"This is your last chance to make amends. If you fail, you can consider our relationship at an end." The Baroness replied. Then, the line when dead.

Chapter 31

A snow squall had left a soft dusting of white powder on the top of the University Way Cathedral steeple. The steeple was made of oaken timbers that stretched high into the sky, challenging the neighboring maples. Father McCabe ascended the wooden steps as gusts of wind bellowed against the walls around him. The staircase spiraled up the interior to a trap door. Father McCabe opened the trap door and walked up into a small room.

The room resided near the tip of the steeple and was originally the living quarters for the church's groundskeeper. Father McCabe had used it as a storage area, but it was currently occupied by the suspect Flint and Spirit referred to as Zartan. On the far end of the room, were two cots. A nun was sitting on one of the beds, rolling out long strips of gauze and bandages. On the other bed sat Zartan, the criminal linked to multiple terrorist organizations.

Father McCabe closed the trap door and stood, watching the Sister smooth out the bandages on the bed. Zartan sat upright on the cot, the covers and blankets strewn to one side, his injured right leg exposed. The upper part of his leg was blue and purple with a deep puncture wound in his thigh. The Sister lifted his leg to redress his wound and Zartan winced in pain. Father McCabe stared at him. He was older, in his early sixties, and had deep scars that ran below his eyes. The scar tissue made the skin dark, like a kind of permanent mask.

Zartan saw Father McCabe staring and smiled. Grimacing as the num wrapped the gauze around his leg, he motioned to the chair at the end of his cot. Without returning the smile, Father McCabe strolled over and sat down.

"I wanted to thank you Father, and the Sisters here, for your hospitality and care." Zartan stated in a raspy Australian accent.

"You're welcome. Though we really didn't have much choice." The Father sarcastically replied. Zartan chuckled at the response.

"No, I guess you didn't." Zartan said. "But thank you all the same."

"I have to say." Father McCabe said leaning closer to the cot. "I'm surprised you haven't tried to escape. In the house of the lord, you are bound here only by your free will. It is curious you haven't left. There is nothing stopping you."

"No. I don't suppose there is." Zartan answered coyly. "The reason though is simple Father. And one I am sure you would understand."

"And why is that?" Father McCabe asked.

"Because just like you, I am a small piece in a much bigger plan." Zartan chuckled to himself as the nun finished and walked quickly to a small dresser in the corner with a bucket of water.

A strong gust of wind slammed against the steeple walls breaking the awkward silence. Then, the trap door opened, and Flint and General Spirit walked up into the room. The General was dressed in his customary cowboy boots, hat, jeans, and navy goose down jacket. His large bowie knife was strapped to his side. Flint wore his faded leather bomber jacket and a pair of blue jeans. They approached Zartan.

"You are going to be transferred to our maximum-security facility in upstate Maine." General Spirit stated. Zartan didn't reply.

"The whole town of Riverbury was destroyed, and you are going to take the fall." Flint added bluntly. Zartan began to smile.

"Did anyone die?" He asked softly. Flint clenched his fists.

"Not in the flood, if that is what you mean. But we did find the body of Thomas Westing, and we know you manipulated the dam's operating system, sending false reports from the power station." Flint shouted.

"Where's your proof? Your evidence?" Zartan replied with a wide smile.

"I'm all the evidence we need." Flint interrupted, silencing Zartan's laughs. "I was in the power station and read the levels before the dam blew. With you on the scene, it won't take much to put two and two together. We figure you can sit it out in super max while you think it over." Flint stated. His chest was heaving.

"I think I will let my lawyers deal with all that." Zartan said, falling silent again.

Father McCabe coughed uncomfortably, reminding everyone that he was still in the room. He nodded to Spirit and Flint and then headed down the trap door, following the Sister who was eager to leave.

"Thank you again for all your kindness." Zartan exclaimed as the Father stopped halfway in the trap door. Father McCabe scowled at Zartan who continued to smile. Then, the Father's head shot down as he heard a noise coming from the stairs below.

"Someone's coming up." Father McCabe said to Flint and the General.

The banging of footsteps got louder and soon Blue Jaye emerged into the room sweating and out of breath. Her face was covered in dirt and strands of her blue hair were messily protruding from a knit beanie almost falling off her head. She wore a long heavy rain jacket with reflectors on the back and sides. Blue Jaye headed straight toward Zartan, reached into her pocket and threw Zanya's latex mask on the empty bed.

Zartan's face went white. Flint and Spirit initially were confused, but after seeing the mask and its features, slowly realized what it was.

"Teresa Westing?" Flint asked. Blue Jaye nodded her head quickly, still trying to catch her breath.

"I followed her after she was released from the police station." Blue Jaye stated. Both Spirit and Flint looked at Zartan who was trying to compose himself.

"This looks like one of your masks." Sprit said flatly. He took it off the bed and threw it on Zartan's lap.

"I think your lawyers will have a little more work cut out for them." Flint joked. He looked at Blue Jaye and smiled.

"Good work." Flint said to Blue Jaye.

"Where did she go?" Spirit asked, gesturing to the mask.

"I lost her by the Marketplace Square parking garage." Blue Jaye replied.

"Where do you think she's headed?" Spirit asked.

"During the interrogation I lied and told her Zartan was being held at Lakeside Medical Center." Blue Jaye replied.

"Good thinking." Spirit replied. "That will buy us some time, but not much. Whoever was impersonating Teresa will eventually figure out Zartan isn't there."

"Do you think they will find him here?" Blue Jaye asked, removing her beanie and straightening out her blue hair.

"No. But I don't want to take any chances, which makes it even more critical that we move him to super max." Spirit stated.

"It will be difficult transporting him when Cobra finds out he is not at the Medical Center. They'll be monitoring all frequencies and routes out of town. Zartan's crew will be on high alert. Vermont isn't exactly the ideal place to move a prisoner securely. Any convoy will be a sure target." Flint added

"It would wouldn't it?" Zartan interjected, enjoying listening in on the conversation. Flint shot him a glare.

"Perfect spot for an ambush wouldn't it be, Zartan?" Flint asked staring directly at his old adversary.

"It's not really an ambush if we set it up right?" Blue Jaye interrupted. Everyone in the room looked at her confused.

"What do you mean?" Spirit asked.

"I have a plan." Blue Jaye said, proudly smiling to herself.

Chapter 32

Three inches of snow covered the road leading into Laconia, a small town in northern New Hampshire. Zanya sat behind the wheel of a black Ford 250 pick-up truck, slowly pushing through the powder toward the quiet center of town. She passed a rusted blue sign that read Weirs Beach with a red neon arrow pointing down toward the nearby lake.

The Weirs, named after the original Laconia colonists, referred to fishing weirs, or obstructions placed in tidal waters to trap fish such as salmon or eels. The town's location at the center of four bodies of water made it an ideal location. Rising during the industrial age, mills and taverns began popping up along the town's main strip, Parade Street.

One of the oldest pubs nestled on the first floor of a three-story brick stone was The Roasted Pig, built in 1910. The original proprietor was named Arthur DeLuca, and one of his fascinations besides slow roasted pork, was motorcycles. DeLuca's brother John was part of one of the oldest biker gangs in the United States, The Gypsies, and had been hosting an annual motorcycle race in Loudon, twenty miles south, since the turn of the century.

In 1916, Arthur and John decided to create a motorcycle pilgrimage of sorts. That year, 400 motorcyclists traveled north from Louden to Weirs Beach. Seven years later, the event was officially recognized by the Federation of American Motorcyclists. Every year through the 1960s, Laconia Motorcycle Week was held, attracting thousands of bikers to the small New Hampshire town.

In 1965 however, riots broke out between rival gangs and enthusiasm and numbers for the event rapidly diminished. But in the 1990s, the Federation of American Motorcyclists brought back the week-long event, and bikers from all over the States would ride to Laconia and spend the summer days on the beach or in the local taverns, like The Roasted Pig, which was still serving patrons over 100 years after opening its doors.

Zanya pulled her truck to a stop in front of the tavern and entered under a worn wooden sign of a pig, standing on two legs with a fork in one hand and a knife in the other. The walls inside the tavern were painted in a warm yellow. Long thick oaken tables were spread out with a bar stretching along the back wall.

A few patrons sat at random tables, elbow deep in piles of pulled pork, brisket, ribs, honey roasted beans, and coleslaw. Zanya took in the smells of burnt hickory and walked casually to the bar at the back of the restaurant. In the summertime, especially during bike week, the lines to the tavern would be out the door, but closing in on the winter, the tavern was close to empty.

Zanya reached the bar and a barrel-chested barkeep walked up to take her drink. He was bald but had a massive burly beard which hung down to the top of his belly. He wore a black tank top under a leather vest, covered in chains and patches. He motioned to Zanya and spoke in a deep raspy voice.

"What will you have to drink?" He asked.

"A whisky, beer back." She replied. The bartender placed the bottle of beer in front of her.

As he poured the shot, Zanya reached into her leather jacket and removed a large silver challenge coin. She placed it on the bar. The image on the coin was of a horned skull on fire with a knife speared through its head. It was the symbol of the Dreadnok gang. Shakily, the bartender reached down and picked up the coin.

"Sorry, General Zanya. We were expecting you this weekend." The barkeep stated, his head hung low.

"Recent events required me to speed up my schedule. Is the Pig in?" Zanya asked as she downed her shot and took a long pull from the beer.

"Yes. Follow me." The bartender said.

Slowly, he led Zanya back through the kitchen past a line cooks to a cold storage room in the back. The room was small, with shelves piled to the ceiling with cans, bags, and boxes of food.

In front of them was a vintage Coca-Cola machine. The bartender reached into his pocket and pulled out the challenge coin. Putting it in the coin slot, he fed the machine and Zanya heard a short click. The barkeep then swung the front open, revealing a dimly lit stone staircase descending into a warm yellow glow.

The pudgily bartender walked down first, gesturing Zanya to follow. He turned back and smiled nervously. The stairs were made of the earthen rock and the walls were lit with strings of yellow Christmas lights.

"This was originally built in the thirties during prohibition. It leads to an old speakeasy." The bartender stated as the stairs descended into a short hallway which opened up into the underground bar.

The space was larger than Zanya had expected, about forty feet wide, and maybe sixty feet long. The bar was located along the left wall, and large wooden keg barrels rested in chiseled out spaces in the rock walls behind the counter. Along the right wall of the speakeasy were high tabletops and stools. About thirty Dreadnok bikers were scattered around the tables and bar hunched over tall mugs of beer or shot glasses.

Zanya noticed a large man sitting in the back corner of the bar. Motioning to him, the man rose from his chair and walked toward her. He wore a black leather vest and pants. He was shirtless and his tattooed chest heaved. His near seven feet, 225-pound frame towered over Zanya. While close to fifty, Road Pig was still in phenomenal shape.

"Road Pig. Thank you for seeing me on short notice." Zanya stated.

"General Zanya." Road Pig replied gruffly.

His age showed more in his face, with long wrinkles and creases streaking down his eyes and cheeks. His white hair was receding, and he kept it longer now, tucked behind his ears. Zanya positioned herself in front of him, her right hand on her hip, leaning to one side. She stared at Road Pig who shifted uncomfortably in the silence.

"We accomplished the mission, but Zartan was captured by the Joes." Zanya stated plainly. She sat down at the table as the bartender quickly produced a shot and bottle of beer.

"The Joes?" Road Pig stated a bit surprised, sitting down across from her. "I though the Baroness said that threat was neutralized."

"Apparently not." Zanya said as she downed the shot and took a swig of beer. Slamming the bottle on the table, beer began to forth out from the neck. The bartender quickly ran over and removed the beer, wiped down the table, and produced another round.

"Flint and Spirit were there! And some new Joe they call Blue Jaye. I barely got out of custody before she figured out who I was. I escaped, but they have Zartan locked down." Zanya stated, shaking her head. She took another long pull of the beer.

"Is he at the local jail?" Road Pig asked. He took a sip of beer thinking on what Zanya had just told him.

"No. They said he was at the Medical Centers, but that was just a smokescreen." Zanya stated.

"How did the Baroness react?" Road Pig asked, a little apprehensive. Zanya shot him a short glare.

"How do you think? No payment until we straighten this out. We need to get Zartan. If the Joes have him, they have ways of extracting information. He could talk, and then…" She paused, not wanting to say what she was thinking. Road Pig finished her thought.

"Then we would be loose ends the Baroness will eventually have to deal with." He stated smugly looking up at Zanya. She nodded silently in return.

"So, what do we do now?" He asked.

"I wasn't able to find out where they were holding him, but I was able to hack into the police department's communication logs and found out they are transporting a prisoner tomorrow afternoon. From the data I intercepted, there is a heavily guarded caravan leaving Lakeside." Zanya said.

"Do you think they are transporting Zartan?" Road Pig asked, taking another sip of his beer. Zanya threw back her head and laughed aloud to herself.

"Of course! This is Vermont we are talking about. There have no high-profile criminals in custody, and they don't have the resources to hold him. They need to transport him to a higher security facility. Hitting the convoy is our best option." She stated.

"What if the Joes are protecting the transport?" Road Pig asked.

"That's why I'm here talking to you. You have the firepower to handle a couple of aging Joes, don't you?" Zanya asked Road Pig sarcastically. Now it was Road Pig's time to scoff as he let out a bellowing laugh and finished his drink.

"Always General Zanya, always." Road Pig stated proudly. "So, what's the plan?" He asked.

Zanya reached in the inner pocket of her black leather jacket and brought out a small map. She unfolded it on the table to reveal a section of highway just south of Lakeside, Vermont. There was a large red circle around a section of interstate. She placed her finger in the middle of the red circle.

"Between Richmond and Waterbury is a fifteen mile stretch of straightaway highway with no exits or off ramps. It's the perfect place to intercept." Zanya said. Road Pig lowered his head to get a closer look at the map. He nodded silently.

"We'll take one team and head out ahead of the convoy. The second team will block off their rear. We'll then hit them hard in the middle and grab Zartan. Sound good?" Zanya stated.

"And when we get Zartan, we get paid?" Road Pig asked. Zanya nodded smiling.

"We'll get paid, and the Joes will get exactly what they deserve." She said, before raising her shot glass and throwing it back.

Chapter 33

General Spirit drove the first of two police transport vans as they raced down the interstate heading south out of Lakeside. The storm had stopped, and the skies were an overcast gray. Snow was piled high on the median and on each side of the road. The convoy consisted of two police cruisers in front, followed by two transport vans, and an additional two cruisers bringing up the rear.

Spirit checked his rear-view mirror to confirm the second van was close behind. They had decided on two transport vans at the last moment and only Spirit and Flint knew which vehicle had Zartan. The cruisers raced down a steep incline as the highway turned and narrowed into a long straightaway. Spirit checked the mile marker and grabbed his radio.

"Just past mile marker sixty-five. Heads up." Spirit stated.

As the convoy reached the straightaway, Spirit saw a group of six motorcycles tear off down the on-ramp in front of them. The bikes were a variety of custom choppers and Spirit saw them begin to decelerate, meeting up with the first two cruisers. Turning in his seat, Spirit slid open the small window behind him to talk to Flint who was riding in the back of the van.

"Hang on!" He shouted.

Spirit watched as the group of bikers rode into a "V' formation blocking the way ahead of them. The lead biker then reached into his backpack and removed a compact rocket launcher. Spirit grabbed the radio again and hit the brakes.

"Head's up in front!" He shouted, but by then, the biker had fired. Spirit watched the rocket explode out of the launcher leaving a trail of smoke as it shot toward the cruisers.

One of the cruisers veered violently off into the median. Luckily, the high snowbank provided a safe cushion as it rolled over on its side. The other cruiser skidded off the road to the right leaving a trail of tracks into a large puff of snow. Spirit downshifted again, trying to make more space between the lead bikers and the van. Another biker took the lead position and reached into his pack for another rocket launcher.

"They're getting ready for another shot!" Spirit shouted into the radio.

The biker turned and fired. Spirit swerved just as the rocket exploded on the highway in front of him. He jerked the wheel to the right and then left, avoiding the blast and keeping the van upright. He checked his rear-view mirror to see the second van and cruisers behind him maneuver around the rubble and continue on close by. Looking ahead, he saw the next mile marker and turned to shout at Flint.

"Just reaching mile marker sixty-three. You ready?" Spirit asked.

"Ready!" Flint shouted from the back of the van.

Spirit hit the gas and the van accelerated, surprising the bikers as they raced ahead. Spirit gained ground as he floored it. Let's just hope I can still pull this off, he said to himself as he approached the gang.

Spirit then spun the wheel as hard as he could to the left, yanking the emergency brake in the process. The van skidded out horizontally in a screeching plume of smoke as it spun around into a 180. As the back of the van swung front, the back doors kicked open. Flint grabbed onto the interior of the van with one hand and held a shotgun with the other.

Before the bikers could react, Flint fired at the middle rider, knocking him off his bike. His chopper spun out, taking out another biker out in the process. Flint let off a second shot as the four remaining bikers grabbed their guns and began firing. The bullets ricocheted off the van as Flint closed one of the rear doors to take cover. As the bikers reloaded, Flint popped out and fired two more consecutive rounds. One shot connected with a biker's head, breaking his helmet apart and sending him and his bike spiraling down the highway end over end. His body and bike crashed into two other bikers knocking them down. The second shot struck the final biker square in the back. A red cloud shot out from his mid-section and his bike wobbled back and forth before flipping over and off the road. Seeing the road clear in front of them, Flint threw down his shotgun and picked up his radio.

"All clear, we are approaching the turnaround now!" He shouted back to Spirit.

Flint then grabbed the interior of the van and braced himself tightly. As the turnaround approached, Spirit yanked the wheel back in the opposite direction spinning the van back around. Spirit looked into his rear-view mirror and saw the group of motorcycles behind them trying to regroup. It was obvious they had not anticipated their counterattack and were scrambling.

Spinning the wheel, Spirit careened the van onto the turnaround. The van buckled as Spirit drove in the opposite direction, headed back toward Lakeside on the northbound side of the highway. Smiling proudly to himself that he successfully completed the maneuver at his age, he picked up the radio and spoke to Flint.

"Alright! Now let's just hope Blue Jaye knows what she is doing." He said, as the van raced down the interstate.

Chapter 34

Zanya blinked and tried to compose herself, processing what had just happened as she watched the first police transport van speed past them in the opposite direction. She wasn't surprised the police had tried to confuse them with two transport vans, but she didn't expect the Joes to get the drop on them. Still, even with their lead team taken out and the vans split up, she was fairly certain it was all a diversion. Zanya felt confident Zartan was still in the van ahead of her, and she turned to Road Pig.

"We stay on the van in front of us." She stated through the com in her helmet. "You, Scorpion, Adder, Snakebite, and Asp take out the last two cruisers. I will advance on the van to retrieve Zartan. Hit them hard." Zanya stated.

Road Pig nodded, and then accelerated in front of her with the remaining bikers. As they approached the cruisers, they removed an assortment of handguns and rifles and unloaded at the backs of the police cars. The cruisers were equipped with bullet proof siding and glass, but the Dreadnok gang were merciless, plastering the cars with bullets until the tires popped and they spun off the road. At the same time, Zanya advanced on the van.

"I am at the van! Follow me and get right behind it. We will need to force it to stop. Be ready to shoot out the tires if I give the order." She shouted.

The bikers revved their throttles and surged toward the van. As she neared, she reached inside her jacket and removed her handgun. Holding the Glock out in front of her, she rode closer to the driver side window.

Reaching the window, she lowered her gun, confused at what she saw. Staring through the glass Zanya saw no one was driving the van. Oddly perplexed, she watched as the steering wheel moved on its own, maneuvering the van down the highway. As she adjusted her focus, she could see there was something written on the window in black permanent marker. In bold block lettering, it read, Greetings from your old pal Mainframe, have a nice day. A picture of a smiley face was drawn below the message.

Instinctually, Zanya realized what was going to happen next. She veered her bike away shouting in her helmet, but it was too late. The van exploded. Its roof shot up into the air under blast of smoke and fire. The front and sides busted apart, taking out the rest of the bikers, resulting in a string of bodies and motorcycles tumbling down the freeway.

As Zanya veered off, the force of the blast lifted her off her seat and propelled her into the air. She slammed into the snowy median and felt her humorous snap. She groaned as she flailed onto the snow and heard another crack come from her left arm. Rolling over on her back, Zanya fought off losing consciousness.

Groaning in pain, she sat up in the snow. Discombobulated, she took in her surroundings. On the highway was a smoldering chassy and what was left of the police van. Bodies and shredded motorcycle parts were scattered across the two lanes of the interstate. As she rose to her feet, her left arm screamed in pain, making her double over and vomit in the snow.

She heard a string of sirens and looked down the highway to see a group of police cars and ambulances heading her way. Fighting the pain in her arm, she limped past the wreckage, crossing the two-lane highway toward the forest which lined the side of the interstate. As the officers arrived at the crash scene, she stumbled into the bush, disappearing into the thick wood.

Chapter 35

The Piscataqua River flowed calmly under the immense arch bridge connecting above Portsmouth, New Hampshire, with Kittery, Maine. Large green beams of the bridge's arch ceiling crisscrossed each other, making diamonds and triangles. As the black pick-up truck traveled over the bridge, Blue Jaye looked out of the passenger side window at the lush green riverbeds and sailboats out on the water.

She, Sherriff Smith, and Zartan had left Lakeside, Vermont, hours before the fake convoy disembarked. After a morning of overcast skies, the clouds were finally breaking, and beams of golden sunlight streaked onto the blue waters. Blue Jaye looked back at Zartan who was also staring out the window. His eyes were dark, and the deep scars running down his cheeks revealed nothing about what he was thinking or feeling.

"Take the first exit at Kittery and get onto Route 1, heading north." Blue Jaye said to the Sherriff who was driving.

Her blue hair was tied back under a green Lake Monsters baseball cap. She wore a blue North Face winter jacket, a pair of blue jeans, and brown steel-toed work boots. Sherriff Smith wore a tan Carhart jacket, red flannel, and a pair of jeans. He turned to Blue Jaye.

"Where are we meeting your contact?" The Sherriff asked.

"Moody's Diner. It's about 100 miles north of Kittery off Route 1. We should get there in a couple hours or so." Blue Jaye replied.

"Supermax is only a delay you know." Zartan finally spoke quietly, his eyes still focused out the window.

"Why would you say that?" Blue Jaye asked.

"My lawyers will be here shortly after I am processed." He stated calmly.

"And you think they will be able to help you?" The Sherriff interjected, exiting the highway.

"Let's just say they have the magic touch when it comes to getting people released." Zartan replied, smiling.

"I wouldn't be so sure. Flint can place you at the scene of the dam when it broke, and our next goal is to get the evidence we need to prosecute you and the Baroness." Blue Jaye replied.

"We shall see." Zartan said, shifting his casted leg in the back seat.

The rest of the trip was spent in silence. The Sherriff drove the pick-up up the small two-lane highway along the coast through Kennebunk, Saco, and Biddeford. They moved north through the bustling Portland seaport up through Freeport, passing a giant wooden statue of a Native American chief holding a spear and shield. The statue stood at least a hundred feet high and its head was adorned with a large feathered headdress covered in a thick layer of snow.

Two-and-a-half hours later, they entered the town of Waldorboro. Blue Jaye reached into her jacket pocket, removed her smart phone, and messaged her contact they would be arriving soon at the rendezvous point. The Sherriff broke the silence as they crossed an intersection and headed up a steep hill.

"Where is the diner?" He asked.

"At the top of this hill." She said.

Off the road to the right was a long trailer-style home with a red neon side that read Moody's Diner. The Sherriff pulled into the lot and parked by the front entrance. All three exited and walked in.

The diner had been there since the late twenties, and the interior still resembled a time where hamburgers cost fifty cents and came with a malted milkshake. The left side was lined with wooden booths covered in an aging leather. The bar to their right stretched the entire length of the wall with the kitchen behind it. The countertop was a faded off-yellow, with multiple spots worn down by countless customers resting their forearms and elbows. A young perky waitress met them at the door wearing a teal blouse and skirt with a semi-stained white apron.

"Three? I am thinking you would like a booth, with his leg and all." The waitress said, smiling and gesturing to Zartan.

"A booth would be perfect, thank you." Blue Jaye replied. The waitress led them to the last booth at the end of the aisle. She placed menus in front of each of them.

"Can I get you coffee or anything to drink?" She asked. Zartan shook his head silently.

"We'll take three coffees and three slices of cherry pie." Blue Jaye said as handed the menus back to the waitress.

"Perfect. I will have that out for you in a jiff." The waitress happily answered and bounced off in the direction of the kitchen.

Blue Jaye's phone buzzed, and she picked it up and read the message. She smiled happily to the Sherriff and finally at Zartan.

"Our contact will be here in a few minutes to transport you the rest of the way to super max." Blue Jaye stated.

The waitress arrived with the three pieces of pie and coffee. She placed the off-white dinner plates and mugs in front of them, and then wiped her hands down the front of her apron.

"Did you need me to bring you anything else?" She asked, hovering happily.

"No, thank you. This looks delicious." Blue Jaye answered.

The three ate their pie in silence, savoring the treat after a long ride. Blue Jaye put her fork down and took a long sip of coffee. She stared at Zartan. He looked up with a wide grin spread across his face.

"What makes you so confident I will confess anything to anyone?" He asked, taking another bite of pie.

"Just a hunch." Blue Jaye replied. "There are oaths that both you and I have taken that we can't turn our backs on. No matter what we have done or who we've become."

"Well there's where you're wrong." Zartan replied, picking up his coffee mug. "I am someone who promises nothing and have never taken an oath unless it meant protecting my family." He stated, taking a sip.

"Exactly my point. Family." Blue Jaye stated.

Zartan looked a little perplexed, not sure what she meant. The waitress returned to refill Blue Jaye and the Sherriff's coffees just as a rusted red pick-up truck rolled into the parking lot. Blue Jaye motioned out the window.

"Your ride is here." Blue Jaye said looking at Zartan. Now a wide smile spread across her face.

Zartan turned around staring intently at the pick-up truck. The driver side door opened, and a middle-aged Asian woman emerged, wearing a long down waterproof parka with a fur trim. Zartan immediately recognized the woman as Kimi, Agent Jinx. His jaw dropped. Blue Jaye waved to Kimi happily through the window. Kimi waved back.

Zartan dropped his fork on the table and pressed his hands to the glass as the passenger side door opened. Tommy stepped out, wearing a blue Tang suit coat and matching sutra pants. He immediately locked eyes with Zartan through the window.

"No. It can't be. Storm Shadow is supposed to be dead." Zartan whispered frantically. Blue Jaye chuckled softly to herself.

"Like I said, we all are parts of different families. Jinx and Storm Shadow told me that you were once part of theirs years ago. Before you betrayed them of course. Eat up, it's another two hours to super max. I'm sure you'll will have plenty to talk about on the ride." Blue Jaye stated leaning back in her chair, taking another bite of cherry pie.

Part 3: Escape

Chapter 36

Zanya woke up lying sprawled out under a pine tree in a thick forest, approximately five miles north of the crash site. Her leather pants and jacket had provided some relief from the cold and snow, but she shivered as she sat up. How long was I unconscious? She asked herself as the surrounding brush came into focus.

She tried to swallow, but her lips stuck together, and her saliva-less throat only managed a small gulp. Trying to get up, the searing pain from her left arm gripped her entire body and dropped her to her knees. She let out a raspy howl as tears streaked down her face.

Carefully and painfully she removed her jacket to examine her injury. A burning vibration centralized below her left shoulder, but there was surprisingly no pain in her forearm where the bone was sticking out. She figured she had at least two breaks, and the area that was completely numb probably suffered nerve damage. No blood was getting through and soon her injuries would begin to stink as gangrene set in. Gingerly putting on her jacket, Zanya realized that if she didn't get medical attention soon, she would most certainty die.

Pushing herself forward, she limped through the snow. The forest was thick, with the trees rising high around her. Looking up through the branches, Zanya watched as the gray clouds broke apart across the sky. Rays of sunlight began to stream onto the forest floor. The warmth from the sun reached her face and she lifted her head and closed her eyes, silently swaying in the woods.

She began to meditate, focusing on her breathing and trying to regenerate as much strength as she could. As she continued, she heard a faint trickling of water in the distance. Straining to listen, Zanya cocked her head and began walking toward the sound until she reached a running brook.

The flowing stream of water rushed down a gradual decline, making a curving snake through the snow. Zanya hurried to the brook and dropped, ducking her head under the water, taking a long drink. The water reinvigorated her as she continued to rehydrate herself, taking long gulps from the stream. After a few minutes, she stood up painfully. She reminded herself that if she didn't take care of her arm, it would be all over.

Limping downstream, Zanya followed the river down a steep slope. She stopped, examining the drop-off and determining which path was the safest. Looking at her feet the entire time, Zanya focused on each step, securing her footing as she traversed down the hill, trying not to lose balance. When she reached the bottom, Zanya smiled to herself in triumph.

An open field lay in front of her, and Zanya looked across and saw a metal baseball backstop and a small set of bleachers sitting at the far end. Behind the backstop was a large red brick building that she recognized as a public school. Her heart raced as she realized she had reached civilization.

Moving along the tree line, Zanya walked around the field to the set of metal bleachers. Getting a closer look at the school, she saw that it was a long, one-story brick structure, laid out in the shape of a "U". Its parking lot was filled with blue and white tents and emergency vehicles.

It looked like the school was being used as a temporary shelter for flood victims. Lurking behind the bleachers, she saw a large green and white van. As she looked closer, she saw black lettering on the side that read, Critical Care Transport Van.

Zanya let out a relieved sigh. Inside the van contained antibiotics, air casts, and services for trauma injuries like hers. She wouldn't need much time to find what she needed, and there didn't seem to be anyone around. Waiting intently for another few minutes, Zanya determined it was now or never, and began to walk toward the school.

Just as she reached the van, she saw someone walking toward her. Quickly, she ducked behind the trunk to see who it was. To her surprise, Zanya saw a young woman, probably in her mid-twenties, with two arm crutches, making her way efficiently through the snow. She had curly blonde hair that was loosely tucked underneath a green knit cap and matching olive fatigues.

Quickly re-analyzing the situation, Zanya figured that the woman posed a minor problem that could easily be taken care of. She watched as the woman opened the side door and stepped up into the van. Zanya then drew her gun and moved as swiftly as she could toward the vehicle door.

Two years earlier.

Elise Jensen pushed the joystick on her motorized wheelchair out of the elevator into a long sterile hallway. Long fluorescent lights dangled from the ceiling, casting soft shadows on the linoleum floor. The doors along the walls were a dark brown, with the occasional black cushioned office chair parked outside. Elise looked at the name plates by each of the doors as her wheelchair rode forward.

She had been released from the hospital a few weeks ago and was set to start her communications training and physical therapy sessions. However, her superior, Captain Breaker, wanted to speak to her first. Breaker had pulled a lot of strings to get her into the experimental spinal surgery, which included an opportunity to join her team. While it wasn't the life Elise had envisioned, it was more than she could have expected, and she was willing to put in all her strength and effort to succeed. Elise reached the far end of the hall and stopped in front of Breaker's office. Learning forward,she knocked on the door.

"Come in." A woman's voice replied.

Elise turned the nob and pushed the door open. She flinched in surprise when she felt her legs brush the bottom of the door. It had only been a few weeks from her surgery, but it was still a rush when she felt any sensation in her legs. A slender woman with long straight dark brown hair sat behind a mahogany desk. She wore a navy-blue turtle-neck sweater and a pair of blue jeans.

As Elise approached, the woman crossed her arms together, revealing a prosthetic limb attached below her right shoulder with a metal hook at the end. Behind her on the wall was a large canvas painting of three soldiers with their arms wrapped around each other. The two soldiers on either end were African American, one large, bald and muscular, and the other was shorter and wore a beret and had a thick mustache. The soldier in the middle was Caucasian, smiling, and blowing a large bubble gum bubble. On the desk, Elise saw a framed photo of the same soldier blowing the bubble, standing proudly with his daughter, a much younger version of her commanding officer sitting in front of her.

"Elise." Breaker stated, unfolding her arms and resting them gently on her lap. "How is your recovery going? Do you think you will be able to start your training next week?" She asked.

"Yes." Elise nodded and smiled. "I can't wait actually. Every time I bump into something, I can feel a sensation in my legs. To tell you the truth, I have been running into the walls on purpose since any feeling returned." Elise laughed nervously to herself. Breaker laughed aloud, gently tapping her claw on her desk.

"Excellent, excellent. But remember, you have an incredibly difficult and frustrating path ahead of you. I just wanted to wish you the best of luck, and let you know that I am here to talk to whenever you need." Breaker stated genuinely.

"Thank you. But, don't you think the other cadets will think you are favoring me, offering special treatment?" Elise asked.

"Well guess what? I am." Breaker stated defiantly, leaning in toward Elise. "You and I are the only two disabled people who have been accepted into the cadet training program over the past ten years. I think it's wrong, and I'm here to make sure that just like me, you make it, ok?" Breaker said, and returned her hands to her lap, smiling at Elise like a protective mother.

"Thank you. I won't let you down…or myself. The General and you gave me this incredible opportunity and I am not going to throw it away. I'll give you everything I have." Breaker said, wiping some tears that had streamed down her cheek with her fingerless gloves.

"Good. You'll need it, and then some. The opportunities for us may be few and far between, but I have confidence in you. And I know General Spirit does too."

"Thank you. I appreciate it." Elise stated. "Is there anything else?" She asked, not sure what to say next.

"Yes. I have a present for you." Breaker said as she opened her desk and removed a long slender wooden case.

Breaker placed the case on the far end of the desk in front of Elise. When Elise opened it, she was a little perplexed to find two silver ball point pens. She looked up to Breaker a little confused.

"Thanks?" Elise said, not sure if it was the right thing to say. Breaker stared at her unamused.

"Those aren't just pens if that's what you're thinking." Breaker said reaching over her desk and taking the case from Elise. She removed one of the pens from the case.

"This one is called an S.O.S as you can see from the letters engraved on the end." Breaker said, giving the pen to Elise before continuing.

"It's an older model and belonged to my father. If you are trapped or captured, when you click the top, it will send out a Morse code signal over our emergency line." Breaker stated as she removed the second pen.

"This other pen has the letters 'K.O.' on the end. When you click the top, a small syringe will pop out. If you're ever in danger, this will knock out your enemy so you can escape or send a message with the S.O.S." Breaker concluded, giving the other pen to Elise.

"Thank you again." Elise said taking the pens and placing them back in the case.

"When you finally become an agent, you will only need to thank yourself." Breaker said, smiling. She stood up and walked around her desk and held out her hand in front of Elise. "Good luck Agent Cricket."

Now.

Elise, aka Agent Cricket gripped both of her fingerless gloved hands on the steering wheel of the Critical Care Transport Van. Turning onto a rural road, she pressed on the gas as she passed a sign reading Fifty Miles to St. Joes. Her right leg ached as she kept her foot on the pedal. She had not driven a car since her accident and the muscles in her legs had begun to cramp.

"I haven't driven a car since my accident you know. I don't know if I can make it all the way to St. Joes." Elise nervously stated.

Zanya lurched back in the front passenger seat of the van. Her Glock pistol was pointed at Cricket, its barrel shaking silently. Carefully adjusting her seat, Zanya leaned closer toward Cricket. Her left arm was secured in an air cast, which she gently rested on her leg.

"You will drive me as long as you can. If you don't make it to St. Joes…well…then I guess you just don't make it." Zanya stated, coughing through a laugh and grabbing her chest in pain.

"You might be the one who doesn't make it to St. Joes." Cricket retorted. "From the diagnostics I ran, you've lost an incredible amount of blood, and if you don't get to a hospital soon, you'll lose your arm, or worse." Cricket stated plainly as she kept focusing her energy on driving the van.

"Just keep driving. I have already come to terms this is probably a one-way trip for myself. You though, can still make it depending on how you behave." Zanya stated, slinking back in the passenger seat.

Cricket turned a sharp corner, and slowly reached into her jacket pocket and grasped the silver S.O.S. pen. Softly, she began clicking the top, sending out a distress signal. She looked over at Zanya who was resting her head on the passenger side window.

Elise stared out the windshield at the winding dirt road in front of her. From her pocket, she sent her message. This is Agent Cricket. I have been captured. In Vermont, driving north on RR4 to St Joes. Captor is female. Five and a half feet. Braided hair. Biker clothes. Injured left arm. Possibly fatal. Do not attempt to rescue. I repeat. Do not attempt to rescue. Alert Agent Oakley. Going to keep investigating. Will send another message when I reach St. Joes.

Chapter 37

Blue Jaye stood in the darkened viewing room in the Lakeside Police Department. She stared through the one-way mirror into the small square interrogation room surrounded by barren concrete walls. A plain metal table sat in the middle of the room, bolted to the floor. There were three chairs, two were empty, and the third was occupied by a young woman, dressed in hickory leather chaps, a brown leather Scully jacket, and a suede Stetson hat.

The woman rested her cowboy boots on one corner of the table. She wore an old-fashioned bandolier gun belt lined with ammunition, and two pearl handled six shooters holstered snugly around her waist. Blue Jaye looked at the woman intently who was nervously twiddling her thumbs, waiting impatiently. The door to the viewing room opened, and Sherriff Smith, General Spirit, and Flint walked in. The Sherriff strode to the front of the glass and turned to Spirit.

"Is she one of yours?" He asked. Spirit nodded in reply.

"That's correct. She's new, a daughter of an Agent that Flint and I served with. Her code name is Oakley." Spirit said, looking at Oakley through the one-way mirror.

"Oakley huh? And she says her partner was kidnapped by one of the bikers who survived the wreck on I-89?" The Sherriff asked.

"That's what she reported. Oakley and her partner Cricket were assigned to a rescue squad in the area. They were part of the efforts to help evacuate Riverbury during the flooding and were the ones who diverted the waters away from the middle school. They were working out of a Critical Care Transport Van at one of the relief shelters close to where the biker attack occurred. Oakley reported Agent Cricket was kidnapped and sent out a distress message indicating she was being forced to drive north to St. Joes." Spirit replied.

"St. Joes? Why is she going to St. Joes?" The Sherriff asked curiously.

"That's what we need to find out." Spirit answered, waiting for the information to settle.

"Ok, and who's this Agent Cricket?" The Sherriff questioned, trying to get everything straight in his head.

Spirit looked nervously at Flint, who then looked back cautiously at Blue Jaye. Blue Jaye raised her eyebrows, confused.

"What?" Blue Jaye asked, not sure why everyone was being apprehensive. She turned to Spirit and narrowed her eyes.

"Who's Agent Cricket?" She asked. Spirit looked back at Flint and sighed.

"Blue Jaye, why don't you sit down, please?" Flint asked cautiously. Blue Jaye's guard went up.

"Why do I need to sit down?" She asked frantically, stepping closer to Spirit. "Who's Cricket?" She demanded again.

"Elise. Elise is Agent Cricket." Spirit stated flatly. Blue Jaye turned to Spirit and Flint with a baffled expression on her face.

"Elise Jensen?" The Sherriff said in disbelief. "Blue Jaye's old roommate from the University?" He asked. Spirit and Flint nodded in reply.

"But…but Elise can't walk. She's paralyzed. She's been in therapy for almost two years." Blue Jaye trailed off.

"True." Spirit said. "She did go to Maryland for therapy, but that was somewhat of a cover." Spirit paused, not sure how to respond. He looked to Flint for assistance.

"After the incident two years ago…" Flint interjected. "…Spirit not only recruited you to the team, he also recruited Elise, to our Communications team. We didn't tell you because we knew you would disagree with our choice…"

"Of course, I would disagree!" Blue Jaye shouted, throwing her hands into the air. "Look at what's happened to her now! She's been kidnapped"

Blue Jaye's chest was heaving. Since she started training, Spirit told her not to call anyone, even Elise. He said it was so she could focus on her training without any distractions. Now, Blue Jaye knew the real reason was to hide the fact that he also recruited Elise. She shot glares at both Spirit and Flint.

"You took advantage of her. She was so vulnerable after her accident." Blue Jaye continued to shout, her eyes were growing red and wet.

"Blue Jaye." Flint stated calmly. "Elise is a grown woman who made her own decision. She knew the risks and we made sure to disclose everything she would be getting into when she signed on."

"And now she's been kidnapped." Blue Jaye repeated again.

"True and not true." Spirit interjected. "Yes, she has been kidnapped, but she has communicated to us that she is in control of the situation and for us to wait to rescue her."

"…wait to rescue her?" Blue Jaye yelled. Spirit continued to speak over her.

"…yes, she said for us to wait to rescue her. Cricket has relayed she is gaining intel and will communicate when she arrives at St. Joes. Look, when I met Elise and yourself, it was obvious that you were both destined for the team. Due to her injuries, she had to take a different path. But we are all on the same side. We need to work together to find out who kidnapped her and what theirs plans are, ok?" Spirit finished.

The Sherriff walked over and placed a hand on Blue Jaye's shoulder. She looked at him with a small smile, happy he was there.

"Jessie, listen." The Sherriff said quietly. It was one of the rare times he used her real name, and a warmth began to grow in the bottom of her stomach.

"I know this seems unfair, but right now we have to deal with the situation at hand. Elise is my friend too, and I will make sure that we do everything to protect her ok?" He said softly. Surprisingly, Blue Jaye turned and grabbed him, pulling him in for a tight embrace.

"Jason. I was supposed to be a reporter remember?" She whispered to him. "Elise and I were supposed to be a team."

"We are all part of a team. The same team." Spirit said in his deep resounding voice. Blue Jaye looked toward the old General.

"No more secrets?" She asked.

"I promise." Spirit said, holding his hand over his heart. "You have my word."

Blue Jaye wiped her eyes and let go of the Sherriff.

"So, what's the plan?" She asked.

"Let's talk to Oakley." Spirit replied, and all four filed out of the darkened viewing room into the interrogation room.

When they walked in, Oakley immediately recognized General Spirit and whipped her legs off the table, stood up, and gave a stout salute. Spirit returned the salute and told everyone to remain at ease. He had brought in a black briefcase and laid it on the table. Inside, was a small laptop, and a stack of papers. After introducing everyone to Oakley, he handed the papers to everyone as they huddled around the table.

"What you have in your hands are the current transcripts sent by Agent Cricket since she started transmitting a little over an hour ago." Spirit stated. "As you can see, she has made it clear she does not want us to intervene until she reaches St. Joes. She has described her abductor as being severely injured, and for us to have a medical helicopter close by."

"What type of injury?" Oakley asked.

"Unknown." Spirit answered.

"Do we know who the kidnapper is?" The Sherriff asked. Spirit gave another glance toward Flint before responding.

"As you can see, Agent Cricket has provided some information to help us with the identification. Female. Average height. Athletic. Wearing biker clothes. Slight Australian accent. Braided hair."

"From the description, and in light of the recent events, we believe the woman she is describing is Zanya, current leader of the Dreadnok gang, extremely dangerous, with ties to Cobra and other terrorist organizations over the globe. She is also the daughter of Zartan, who was responsible for Thompson Dam and is currently under maximum security lockdown in upstate Maine."

Spirit booted up the laptop and began displaying pictures of Zanya. He reached into the briefcase and handed everyone a large folder. Blue Jaye and Oakley began flipping through.

"This is all the current information we have on Zanya. Like her father, she is a master of disguise, impressions, and is highly manipulative and resourceful." Spirit continued.

"It looks like the relationship between Cobra and the Dreadnoks has not always been on good terms." Oakley added reading one of the documents. Spirit nodded in reply.

"Correct. Cobra and the Dreadnoks have been at odds for years. Flint and I can provide additional background on the history between the two groups when Zartan led the gang as well." Spirit paused, waiting for any questions.

"So…" Blue Jaye said as the pieces began to fall into place. "You are thinking that Zanya is heading north to St. Joes for revenge against Cobra?"

"Precisely." Spirit stated. Flint then spoke up.

"We think that Zanya is under the impression that Cobra was behind the fake ambush on the interstate. The decades old bad blood with Cobra would be easy for Zanya to assume the Baroness turned against her." Flint added.

"So, we let Elise, sorry, Agent Cricket, keep driving this Zanya to St. Joes to find out what her plan is?" The Sherriff asked.

"Exactly." Spirit replied.

"But when Cricket gets to St. Joes, Zanya will just kill her, don't you see that?" Oakley stated, worried about her partner.

"That's not for certain. Remember, Zanya is severely injured, and she might need additional help once she gets to St. Joes." Spirit said.

"What's so important about this St. Joes place? What do you know about it?" Oakley pressed on. Again, Spirit looked to Flint who stepped forward to respond.

"Two years ago, we uncovered an underground Cobra base built into an old copper mine underneath the town of St. Joes. An ex-Cobra operative had rediscovered it. With the help of Blue Jaye, Cricket, and Sherriff Smith, we were able to stop the enemy threat and destroyed the base." Flint replied. There was a silent pause in the room.

"Well obviously not all of the base was destroyed." Oakley stated.

"And it probably wasn't abandoned to begin with either." Blue Jaye added, her mind now racing. The Sherriff saw the wheels turning inside Blue Jaye's head under her cobalt hair.

"What are you thinking?" The Sherriff asked her.

"The Weather Dominator. The Baroness's end game. The rains were centralized around St. Joes correct?" Blue Jaye asked. General Spirit nodded silently.

"I bet Zanya is heading back to St. Joes to the base to get the Weather Dominator." Blue Jaye said.

"Why?" The Sherriff asked.

"Like you said, revenge." Blue Jaye answered plainly. "Against the Baroness. Against Cobra. For her family's honor. She wants revenge."

"So, what do we do with that?" Oakley questioned.

"We use it to our advantage." Spirit replied, now smiling at Blue Jaye. He took off his cowboy hat and ran a leathered hand over his salt and pepper hair.

"We'll keep monitoring Cricket as she gets close to St. Joes, but we'll make sure we're there ahead of her. Oakley and Blue Jaye will take a chopper and wait for Cricket to arrive. Then, we'll advance on the underground base."

"But how will we know how to enter the base?" Blue Jaye asked.

Spirit leaned over the laptop and entered a few keystrokes. The monitor flashed and began to connect to a video chat. Soon, the pudgy and happy face of Mainframe appeared on the screen, waving to everyone in the room. He started to speak right before Spirit muted him.

"Mainframe will act as your eyes and ears and will help you maneuver in and out of the base to extract Cricket and Zanya." Spirit said.

"Then what?" Flint asked.

"Then, we take the Weather Dominator and send the Baroness packing." Oakley replied.

"Where are you going to be?" Blue Jaye asked Spirit.

"I am going back to Maine to speak with Zartan, and see if we can get any leverage on Zanya. So far, he has only confessed to his involvement in the dam but nothing else. I will try to put the screws to him and see what we can get." Spirit replied. Blue Jaye nodded her approval.

"What about me?" Flint asked. Spirit turned and cocked his head and eyebrows.

"I need you to meet with the Baroness." Spirit stated, standing cautiously.

"What do you want me to say to her?" Flint asked, shifting uncomfortably.

"Tell her the truth." Spirit replied. "Tell her we know the Weather Dominator caused the rains and flooding. Add that Zanya failed in rescuing Zartan and believes that the Baroness set her up. Let her know that she's headed for St. Joes to her. Hopefully, she'll take the bait and head north to meet Zanya head on." Spirit stated before Blue Jaye interrupted him.

"And if we catch the Baroness in the bunker with the Weather Dominator, we can implicate her in the flooding." Blue Jaye said, finishing Spirit's thought.

"Exactly." Spirit confirmed. "Is everyone ok with the plan? Does anyone have anything to add?" He asked.

"Yes, I do. I'm coming with you." The Sherriff stated. "St. Joes may be out of my jurisdiction, but my friendship to Elise and Jessie goes much farther than that. Plus, if it wasn't for what you all did two years ago, I wouldn't be here now. There is no way you're keeping me on the sidelines for this one." The Sherriff stood tall.

Blue Jaye smiled wide. Spirit and Flint also traded grins. Spirit reached into the briefcase and pulled out a small communications box that contained an ear an eye piece. He tossed it to the Sherriff.

"Ok, Sherriff. You are on the team. Now let's get to it!" Spirit stated emphatically.

"Yo Joe." Flint whispered proudly to himself.

Chapter 38

Flint walked through the revolving doors of the Hotel Vermont in downtown Lakeside. The floor of the vestibule was a dark gray slate. Flint strolled past the concierge and by a group of guests sitting in large lounge couches, holding tall glasses of wine, laughing in front of the fire.

He walked up to the marble bar which was situated to the left of a large fireplace. Flint waited patiently for the bartender to finish making a Tom Collins. The bartender made his way over to him and asked for his order.

"I'll take a pint of Sugar Trail Pilsner." Flint stated, as the barkeep turned to the glasses and taps behind him.

Flint looked to his left and saw Governor Deborah Minh sitting at the end of the bar. She wore a red dress suit cut tight around her waist. Taking his drink, he walked down and sat in the seat next to her. Unzipping his jacket, he removed his phone, a pack of cigarettes, and a gold lighter. Deborah noticed his worn bomber jacket and turned toward him.

"Did you serve?" She asked.

"I did. A long time ago." Flint said, smiling back and taking a drink.

"My grandfather was in the navy. I would like to thank you for your service." Deborah stated.

"No thanks needed Governor I was just doing my duty." Flint replied.

"Well regardless, it warms my heart to see servicemembers out and about in our small city. Are you visiting from out of town?" She asked.

"No, actually, I live a few towns over. I just stopped by to meet an old friend up on the Sky Lounge." Flint stated.

"The Sky Lounge." Deborah replied, looking impressed. "Your friend must be a pretty influential person to have access to Hotel Vermont's Sky Lounge. Is it anyone I might know?"

"Yes, it is. Anastasia McCullen." Flint replied bluntly.

Deborah hesitated for a moment before regaining her composure and continuing.

"Mrs. McCullen has become one of my closest friends and advisors. I can't owe her enough." Deborah stated.

"I'm sure you owe her everything Governor Minh." Flint continued to press.

"What do you mean?" Deborah asked, now clearly flustered.

"I mean if you've fallen in line with the Baroness, you have sacrificed everything you have." Flint said, leaning in closer to the Governor.

Deborah shrunk inward. She looked to her left and right, wondering if anyone had heard. Flint moved a little closer.

"I have been fighting Cobra and the Baroness for decades. If you need to get out, I can help." He said.

"Who are you?" Deborah asked. A line of sweat started to form on the top of her forehead.

"One of the good guys. I can tell you now, this doesn't end well for you. But I think you know that by now, don't you?" Flint asked.

Deborah dropped her head. She looked back up terrified.

"What do you want me to do?" She asked.

Flint pushed the pack of cigarettes and the gold lighter in front of her. She looked at him confused.

"Stay close to her. If you fear your life is in danger, that gold lighter is also a communication device. If you click the top once, it will send out a distress signal. We will be there within twenty minutes. If the situation calls for immediate action, click the top three times and then throw it. You will then have ten seconds after before the plastic explosive contained inside detonates." Flint said.

Deborah took the lighter and cigarettes and placed them in her purse. The bartender walked over seeing that Flint's pint glass was empty.

"Would you like another round, sir?" The bartender asked.

"No, thank you. I'm heading upstairs." Flint replied.

Nodding at Governor Minh, he turned and walked toward the elevators leading up to the Sky Lounge.

The Sky Lounge of the Hotel Vermont was an open outdoor patio on top of the penthouse looking out toward the lake. The lounge was scattered with black all-weather couches and chairs under canvas tents with a full bar nestled in the back corner. A dozen gas powered fire pits and towers were dispersed around the patio keeping patrons warm as they enjoyed their cocktails and light appetizers out in the cold November air.

The Baroness leaned her forearms on the metal railing, cradling a whiskey glass filled with two fingers of 1970 Glenfiddich, looking out toward the lake. White caps topped the incoming waves as they crashed into the man-made breakwater. The Baroness smiled and let out a sigh of relief as she brought the glass to her lips and took a warm sip of her drink. She had infiltrated the governorship placing Deborah in charge and had successfully tested her latest S.T.O.R.M. prototype. Dr. Snakes had been more than impressed and was adamant about placing an order. Taking another sip, the Baroness pondered what she would charge him and the others who were now impatiently waiting in line.

A waiter came walking by and the Baroness threw back her drink and ordered another. As the waiter hurried back to the bar, a cold breeze rushed through the outdoor patio. The frigid air was welcome, and she closed her eyes lifting her face up to the sky. The steel chain holding the ruby medallion around her neck began to freeze, creating an intense sensation that kept her on point and alert.

Hearing the waiter return, the Baroness turned to grab her drink but stopped short. In her formative years, she was rarely taken off guard, but the person who stood in front of her both astonished and startled her at the same time. A surge of emotions coursed through her and even though it was twenty degrees outside, the Baroness felt a nervous sweat start to form on her forehead and the back of her neck. Standing in front of her, was Flint.

He was dressed in a worn leather bomber jacket, embroidered on the breast with the name Abernathy, a pair of blue jeans, and steel toed work boots. His hair was brown with some gray and cut loosely around his ears. He wore it a little longer than she remembered. Like herself, his face had added wrinkles and sagged a bit at his cheeks and neck, but his eyes were still as dark and sharp as the last time she saw him.

He smiled at her and another surge of warmth grew in her core. He was in shape and confident, two things that had always attracted her to him. Awkwardly, she brushed back some locks of silver hair that had fallen in front of her face and returned his smile. She tried to speak but found that the words were caught in her throat and all she got out was a cough. Thankfully, Flint begun.

"Anastasia. It's good to see you." Flint said.

The waiter brought over her drink and as he walked by, Flint placed a worn wooden clothespin on the tray. The Baroness removed the drink and tenderly took the clothespin in her hands. She brought it close to her chest and replied with a hoarse whisper.

"Dash. It's good to see you too." She stated.

Flint nodded and raised his bottle of beer holding it out for the Baroness to cheers. She clicked her glass on his, raising it high before bringing it to her lips.

"To the past." Flint said.

"To the future." The Baroness added, taking a long, thankful sip of alcohol.

"And that future is here in Vermont, why?" Flint asked, taking a swig of beer.

"Don't play coy. You know. Opportunity. Expansion." The Baroness said, trying to pace her drinking, but her nervousness forced her to take another sip.

"But Vermont? I would have thought you would have chosen a higher profile state that gave a larger return on your investment so to speak?" Flint questioned.

Flint couldn't help but to look the Baroness up and down. She tracked his eyes as they followed the curves of her body down to her stiletto heels. She playfully brushed her hair back again and took a step closer. She could smell a faint must and a hint of his aftershave. Her knees began to buckle, and she fought hard not to reveal how vulnerable she felt.

"Oh Dash. As we get older, we tend to reflect, look back, and strive to accomplish promises we made long ago." Baroness said, as she motioned to the bartender for another drink.

"And one of those promises was flooding a Vermont town?" Flint asked, his smile now gone and his face dead serious. The Baroness laughed, and courageously reached out and grabbed his elbow, bringing him a little closer.

"Not exactly. It was something I had put off for decades. It was time I finally honored it." The Baroness replied but couldn't look Flint in the eye.

"Destro." Flint exclaimed as a guilty expression came over her. "The Weather Dominator. You promised Destro you would make it work, didn't you?" Flint asked. The Baroness laughed a little to herself before replying.

"I call it the S.T.O.R.M. now. It's smaller, and highly marketable." The Baroness replied.

"I'm sure it is." Flint stated.

Flint then pulled her close, so their faces were only a few inches apart. The Baroness was startled, but didn't resist as he drew her in. Her heart raced as the warmth from his body radiated against hers. He spoke softly.

"So that's what this is all about? Just a way for you to make more money and market a new product?" He asked.

"Of course, why would you think it would be anything different?" The Baroness replied, throwing her head back a bit.

Flint pulled her so their noses were touching. The Baroness closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his. For a few short seconds, she felt a peace she thought was long lost. He whispered to her.

"So, this is just another deal? Sorry, I'm not buying it. Sounds like something of a swan song to me. Trust me I know. When you start doing things for deceased loved ones, it's more like you're grasping at straws than having your feet planted in reality." Flint stated.

The Baroness turned her head away, her eyes still closed as she tried to break free of Flint's grasp. Instead, he pulled her closer, pressing his body against hers. The Baroness began to feel dizzy, and she grabbed Flint and buried her head into his chest. She spoke softly, her cheek resting on his worn leather jacket.

"One day I do wish this will all end. But like you, I have no one to share it with. There is only the job." She said, looking into his eyes.

"We could share it together?" He replied.

"Oh, shut up Dash." The Baroness whispered and pulled him close kissing him deeply.

Flint kissed her back. For a moment, the bar, the tables, and the patrons all around them disappeared and it felt like they were the only two people in the world who mattered. It was the first time the Baroness had kissed anyone since her husband died. This was not how she was expecting this day to go, but she didn't care. At that moment, all she wanted was Flint. She tried to pull away, but Flint held on. Again, they rested their foreheads on one another, locked in an embrace.

"What if we could end it all now?" He asked. The Baroness raised her head in surprise.

"What do you mean?" She said curiously, a young excitement rumbled in her stomach.

"What if we gave it all up? What if we dropped everything and went far away to someplace quiet? Someplace peaceful? Someplace…?" Flint asked as the Baroness interrupted.

"…someplace private?" She answered smiling devilishly, pulling Flint in for another kiss.

"Yes." Flint whispered as he kissed her cheek and forehead.

The Baroness looked at her old adversary and lover, admiring his passion and honesty. Against what her heart was telling her, she pushed herself away, the warmth of his body replaced by the cold November wind. Composing herself, she motioned the waiter, and then leaned on the side of the roof railing, smiling.

"It's an amazing dream and a tempting offer, but there is still business to be done I'm afraid." The Baroness replied. Her heart sank as she finished her sentence, realizing that she had just passed on freedom, peace, and love.

"Business huh? Ok, if that is how you want to play it." Flint said, his head down, clearly upset at the Baroness's rejection. "We received intel that Zanya survived the ambush on the Vermont interstate and is currently heading north to St. Joes. We believe she is planning on finding the Weather Dominator, or your S.T.O.R.M. device, and expose you." Flint stated. The Baroness's smile contorted into a grimace and she pounded a fist on the cold metal rail.

"That coward." The Baroness spat.

"We're going after her. I just want to let you know that if we find the S.T.O.R.M. device first, we will have no choice but to expose your operation." Flint stated flatly.

"I wouldn't expect anything different." The Baroness replied.

Her anger had subsided, and the smile returned to her face. The waiter arrived carrying another glass of scotch and a bottle of beer. The Baroness and Flint took the drinks and clinked them together for one last toast.

"I guess this means good luck." The Baroness said, taking another long sip.

"I guess so." Flint said, and grabbed the Baroness again by the waist, pulling her in for one last kiss. The Baroness wrapped her free arm around Flint's back and passionately returned their embrace.

"There is still a chance Anastasia. We can still find peace. All you have to do is let go." Flint said one last time.

The Baroness dropped her head and then raised it, putting a cold palm on Flint's warm face. She leaned in and kissed him again, rubbing her nose on his cheek. With a deep sigh, she replied.

"Let's just see how this all plays out ok?" She said.

Flint took one last swig of his drink and nodded. His smile had faded away. He turned and walked across the patio to the stairs leading back down to the street.

The Baroness watched Flint's husky frame as it descended until the last bit of him was out of sight. She closed her eyes and raised her face high into the cold wind and removed her phone.

Swiping to an encrypted app, the Baroness typed the letter "F", and the line started to connect. She brought the phone to her ear. There was a short click, followed by a muffled breathing.

"Firefly?" The Baroness asked.

"Yes, Commander." Firefly replied.

"Gear up your security team. We're heading for St. Joes in fifteen minutes." The Baroness stated and disconnected the line.

As she walked across the patio toward the exit, she felt alive. A familiar energy had returned, and she laughed aloud and flung her head back. The ruby medallion dangled from her neck.

Chapter 39

Elise Jensen, aka Communications Officer Cricket slowed the Critical Care Transport van to a stop in front of the first silo of the abandoned Radar Communications Tower outside of St. Joes. The afternoon sky had begun to cast shadows on the ground as a strong wind tore through the forest, whisking the large olive branches high above. Cricket turned to the passenger side and saw her captor had lost consciousness and was slouching low against the door.

Drops of blood lightly splattered on the floor from the woman's wounded arm. During their journey, Cricket had convinced her to take some pain killers, but from the smell of the wound and the milky puss that had started to seep through the dark purple bruises, all signs were pointing to gangrene settling in. If she could get her injured kidnaper to a hospital, they might be able to save some of her arm, but if they waited any longer, the woman might not make it at all.

Conflicted, Cricket unbuckled herself and hoisted herself next to the woman slumped in the seat. Cricket's ached after having to drive. Her leg muscles screamed as she shifted her position and leaned onto the passenger seat.

Putting two fingers on the woman's neck, Cricket felt a weak pulse. Her skin had begun to pale, and she let out a long, soft wheeze. Grabbing her crutches from behind the driver seat, Cricket quickly maneuvered to one of the drawers in the back corner and wretched it open, spilling the contents on the floor. She then found a black leather case and opened it. Inside were two bottles of adrenaline and two large syringes. Disregarding the other items strewn around her feet, Cricket shuffled back to the front of the van.

Positioning herself against the front dashboard, she pushed the woman back in her seat. Then, she pulled down her stained tank top revealing a small spot of bare skin in the middle of her chest. Taking a deep breath, Cricket filled the needle and pursing her lips, she stabbed the woman and pressed down on the plunger.

A few seconds later, the woman let out a long groan, and began to heave forward. Cricket put her hand on the woman's shoulder trying to calm her down. Raising her head, the woman revealed a glossy set of blood shot eyes. She stood and whipped her body around, taking in her surroundings. The chains dangling from her leather jacket clicked on the side of the van.

Cricket took a step back as the woman adjusted and her eyesight and balance. The woman stared at her, wiping the water that seeped from her eyes. Looking through the windshield, she pointed at the large silo.

"Pull the van to the last silo." The woman said.

"What is this place?" Cricket asked as she fell back into the driver's seat and moved the van forward.

"An abandoned Radar Station used back in the Cold War. Decades ago, Cobra built an underground bunker into the cave system below us." The woman replied.

"So, what's your plan? Kill me, and then sabotage the bunker?" Cricket asked as she parked the van by the towering silo. The woman gave her a short smirk.

"I have no intention of killing you. As you have constantly reminded me, I don't have much time. For me, this is a one-way trip. I need you, to finish the journey." She said, coughing up blood.

"Why do you need me?" Cricket asked.

"Because you're a Joe." The woman stated flatly. Cricket began to panic and beads of sweat began appearing on the top of her forehead.

"How do you know that?" Cricket questioned quietly.

"You've been clicking your S.O.S. pen in your jacket pocket the entire ride. My father showed me one years ago. It was something he acquired when he was on active duty." The woman replied.

"Your father was a Joe?" Cricket asked surprised. The woman stared back at her blankly.

"No. He was on a different side. My family and Cobra have had a difficult relationship. Cobra has betrayed us for the last time, and I am here to end the relationship permanently." She stated emotionless, running her good hand over her braided hair.

"What do you mean?" Cricket asked, confused but intrigued.

The woman straightened herself as best she could, adjusting her leather jacket and moving closer. A few drops of blood fell onto the floor of the van.

"There is a device in the bunker below that is the cause for all this weather. The rains, the flooding, they were all caused by a machine Cobra calls the S.T.O.R.M. It has the ability to change local weather patterns to create any climate system desired."

"The S.T.O.R.M.?" Cricket repeated, trying to make sense of what the woman was saying.

"Yes. And with this most recent successful test, Cobra will sell the device to anyone who can meet the Baroness's offer." The woman replied.

"So, you want to go down there and destroy it?" Cricket asked.

"No. I am going to give it to you." The woman stated.

"What?" Cricket asked stunned.

"What better way for my family to get revenge than to give it to one of Cobra's greatest enemies, don't you think?" The woman asked, laughing and coughing at the same time.

Cricket pulled the van to a stop in front of the radar silo. Grabbing her crutches and her medical bag, she stepped out into the snow. The woman led her away from the silo into the woods. After about twenty yards, Cricket saw the woman stop and crouch down by a flat area on the forest floor.

When Cricket reached the woman, she saw her brushing snow off of a large metal trap door. There was a small latch with a keyhole. The woman reached into her leather pocket and removed a tubular key. Fitting it into the lock, the woman raised the trap door revealing a stone staircase descending down into darkness.

"Are you up for this girl?" The woman asked Cricket looking at her crutches and then back down the stairs. Cricket gripped her braces tightly.

"Yes. Also, my name's Cricket." Cricket replied, looking down the hole.

"Pleasure to meet you Cricket. I'm Zanya. Please, after you." The woman stated graciously, motioning to the stairs.

As Cricket put her first crutch on the top stair, she turned back to see that the woman had pulled her handgun from her jacket. Even with her supposed change in attitude, Cricket was taking no chances and put her hand in the jacket pocket, feeling for her K.O. pen. After adjusting the grip on her crutches one last time, Cricket descended the stairs, leading them both down into the bunkers below.

It took close to a half hour for them to reach the bottom. The stairwell was lit by a string of lightbulbs hanging on the right side of the wall. They walked in silence, the only sound other than their shuffling were drops of blood from Zanya's injured arm. When they reached the bottom, Zanya led them down a long hallway with strings of fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling.

Cricket peered into the various rooms and saw that each was dark and uninhabited. As they turned down another cement corridor, Cricket could hear the electric hum of a generator. They walked past the generator into a room with a large monitor on the far side wall. To the right and left of the monitor were a series of cabinets that reminded Cricket of a safe deposit vault. Below the monitor was a large console with two keyboards and a countertop. Cricket looked up at the screen, which was scrolling data she recognized as longitudes, latitudes, barometric readings, and high-and-low-pressure wind levels.

Cricket saw Zanya leaning over a medium sized crate, resting on the countertop. Inside the crate was a small laptop that had DOS code streaming down the screen. Zanya typed in a sequence of keystrokes and Cricket saw a light on the monitor start flashing red. Zanya then closed the case and looked up at Cricket.

"Put this in your bag and get out of here." Zanya stated. Cricket flinched before taking the case clumsily in her hand.

"What are you going to do?" Cricket asked, placing the case in her backpack and securing it over her shoulder.

"Like I said before, I am going to finish my family's dispute." The woman replied, raising her gun a little in the air. "Do you think you can carry that back up the way we came?" She asked.

"I can manage." Cricket said, wondering how long it would take her to get back up to the van.

"We came in a back entrance, so you should be able to take your time getting out..." Zanya stated but trailed off looking out the doorway.

Cricket heard it almost immediately after. Footsteps. People talking. And it was getting louder. Zanya grabbed Cricket's arm and pulled her into the hall ducking into one of the open doors. Cricket and Zanya saw a group of individuals walk by. Leading the pack was a tall, slender woman with silver hair with a long leather black jacket and knee-high stiletto boots. Behind her was an Asian woman dressed in a red winter jacket and black snow pants. Cricket recognized the woman as Deborah Minh, Governor of Vermont. Following the Governor, were at least a dozen armed security, dressed in full tactical gear. They all wore black except for the lead soldier who was dressed in gray camouflage with a matching balaclava. They held automatic rifles with an additional sidearm strapped to their thigh.

Cricket's eyes adjusted to the darkness and she turned to see Zanya had removed the S.T.O.R.M. from her pack and flipped it over, feeling the back of the case with her good hand. Zanya then removed a knife from behind her back and wedged the tip into a small plate on the side of the case.

Trying not to make too much noise, Zanya fidgeted with the knife until a small panel popped off the back. Prying out a small chip, Zanya closed the case and walked over to Cricket. Holding up the computer chip, Zanya stuffed it in Cricket's pocket and then walked back to the S.T.O.R.M. case and picked it up. Cricket heard loud shouts coming from the other room and figured that the soldiers just found out the S.T.O.R.M. was missing. Zanya began to whisper.

"I am going to engage them and create a distraction so you can duck out the way we came. Go back to the van and get that chip to your team." Zanya whispered hastily.

She looked at Cricket for confirmation. Cricket nodded that she understood. The woman grabbed the S.T.O.R.M. case and walked toward the doorway. It was then that Cricket grabbed the K.O. pen from her jacket and jabbed it into the back of the woman's neck, clicking the top of the pen.

The woman stumbled one step forward before falling backwards. Cricket let go of her crutches and grabbed the woman as she fell back into her arms. The weight of Zanya knocked Cricket down, but she was prepared, and gently sat on her butt, keeping Zanya, now unconscious, resting gently on top of her. With all Cricket's strength, she dragged herself and Zanya to the back corner of the room. She then stood up, retrieved her crutches, shuffled over, and locked the door.

Maneuvering back to the corner of the room, Cricket stared down at Zanya sleeping in front of her. Taking out her S.O.S. pen, Cricket began sending another message back to base. Arrived at underground base. Abandoned radar station outside of St Joes. Cobra operative Zanya secured. Weather device secured. Sending coordinates now. Heavy resistance awaits. Working my way out.

Chapter 40

Flint leaned against the side of the worn wooden bar at The Roadside Tavern in downtown Lakeside. The bar was a small hole in the wall frequented by locals, pool sharks and students. Originally a garage, the bar still had a working door that was raised during the summer months for patrons to sit, drink, and people watch.

The left side of the bar was adorned with a long mirror giving the watering hole a more open feel. Along the right side lay the counter with four levels of spirits resting behind the barkeep. Three televisions hung from the ceilings. Two were tuned into the local hockey game while the third was showing a thriller from the 1990s. A red felt pool table sat at the far end.

It was pool night, and Flint, Father McCabe, and Flint's cousin-in-law, Ben Hart, were taking turns playing games of eight ball. Father McCabe walked around one side of the table with a frosty pint of Sugar Trail Pilsner, tapping the bottom of his cue on the floor as he pondered his next shot. Flint looked behind Father McCabe at his cousin Ben Hart, better known around Lakeside as Professor Ben. Ben sipped on a pint of stout Mountain Ale as he watched his opponent with a curious anticipation.

Ben Hart was Lady Jaye's cousin, and they grew up together in New England, spending summers in Maine, and winters in Vermont with their families. Flint and Lady Jaye had known Ben and his wife Marie as long as they were together. A now tenured and highly successful writer and English Professor, Ben taught Literature classes at the University.

After Lady Jaye died, Flint had closed himself off, taking himself almost completely off the grid. But one day, two years ago, Ben was caught up in the incident that shook the small town of Lakeside, and he reached out to Flint for help. It was Ben's call that pulled Flint out of his dejection and retirement. After he solved the case, Flint decided to move to Lakeside and stayed close to Ben.

Flint took a long pull of his Sugar Trail Pilsner as he watched Father McCabe miss a bank shot off the corner pocket. The one ball gently bounced off the felt, just missing the hole. The Father grimaced and looked up to Flint who was chuckling a little to himself.

"Keep laughing young fella. You're up next you know?" Father McCabe joked. Flint gave a quick wink.

"Well at least he's laughing and smiling again." Ben replied as he aimed his cue at the nearest stripped ball.

"If you call that a smile." Father McCabe continued to joke.

Leaning in, the Father put his hand on Flint's shoulder. His expression was pained.

"I'm fine. Really. I just have a lot on my mind." Flint said.

"Are you upset the General asked you to sit this one out?" Father McCabe continued to prod. Flint shook his head.

"I am more worried about Blue Jaye, but if the General has confidence in her, so do I." Flint stated, giving Father McCabe a half-hearted smile.

"Blue Jaye will do fine. All birds have to fall out of their nests to learn to fly, right?" Father McCabe stated, trying to cheer up his friend.

"That's true, but this bird is different, isn't that right, Flint?" Professor Ben said, walking up with a tender smile, after he just ran the table. "Stick to checkers." Ben chided to Father McCabe as he leaned on the bar next to Flint.

"You could say that." Flint answered, returning a smile to his cousin Ben.

"Jaye will always be here." Ben stated, putting his arm around Flint. "It still hurts, trust me, I know. But she would be happy where things are. She would be happy where you are."

"I know, it's not that." Flint said softly.

"So, what's bothering you?" Father McCabe curtly interjected.

"It's Anastasia. She's here, in Lakeside. Blue Jaye is heading to face her now." Flint said, looking down at his boots.

Ben's face went pale. Father McCabe looked at both Flint and Ben, wondering what they knew that he didn't.

"Oh my God." Professor Ben stated, his hand dropping off Flint's shoulder.

"Who's Anastasia?" Father McCabe asked. Flint remained silent. Ben took a moment to see if Flint was going to explain. When it was obvious he wasn't, Ben took a long sip of his beer before speaking.

"It's a long story, but let's just say that Anastasia is the other woman in Flint's life. They were captured once and spent a good amount of time in a prison together. It was then, that something happened between them." Ben paused before continuing. "They were eventually rescued, and things returned to normal. However, Anastasia, or the Baroness as she is more widely known, is a terrorist and one of the wealthiest and influential women in the world." Ben stated, cocking his eyebrows as he made eye contact with Father McCabe.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph." Father McCabe said.

"My guess is that if she is here, she's behind the flood, and everything else that has happened in Lakeside, St. Joes, and Riverbury. Am I right?" Ben asked Flint. Flint gave another short nod, confirming Ben's suspicions.

"Now I get it. The General didn't take you out of this fight. You took yourself out." Ben stated. Flint did not reply, just kept looking down at the floor.

"You love her. This Anastasia. Don't you?" Father McCabe asked cautiously.

Flint finally looked up. His eyes were red and watery. He didn't respond. He just looked at Ben and Father McCabe with a deep yearning, hoping they would provide him the guidance he needed.

"Flint." Ben said. "Letting go is never easy. Even when you think you have gotten past something, it can still knock you down and cut deep into your core."

"Especially women." Father McCabe added.

"How would you know?" Professor Ben jokingly asked.

"I wasn't born a priest young man." Father McCabe winked as he replied, causing a much-needed round of laughter between the three. Flint seemed to relax a bit and turned toward his cousin. Ben continued.

"So, you took yourself out of this fight because it would mean going up against Anastasia. But benching yourself also means turning your back on Blue Jaye. I can see how that is tearing you up inside. So, what can we do to help?" Ben said caringly.

"How about another round?" Flint asked. Father McCabe slapped Flint on the back and turned around to the bar and ordered another round. Ben leaned in closer to Flint.

"You know that I would gladly join you on another adventure, but Marie said she would make me live in our backyard shed if I did. Plus, an old, soon-to-be retired English Professor and an elderly priest don't really make up a stellar team against trained terrorists." Ben added.

"No, you're probably right." Flint said, smiling back at his old friend and cousin.

"Well then maybe you just need the right team." A distant, but familiar female voice stated from the entrance of the bar.

Flint, Professor Ben, and Father McCabe looked toward the front door. Standing in the doorway was a tall, slender, Asian woman wearing a black and yellow stripped ski jacket with matching pants. Her long black hair was tied in a tight bun on the top of her head and she stood leaning with one hand on her hip.

"Jinx?" Flint asked, both surprised and astonished to see his former teammate. Jinx's smiled widen and she raced up and gave Flint a big hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Well you aren't half as wasted away as Spirit said you were." Jinx joked, releasing herself from the embrace, still holding on to Flint's forearms.

"Thanks." Flint replied, smiling genuinely. For a moment, he was taken out of his depression. Shaking his head and bringing himself back to reality, he introduced her to his friends.

"Father McCabe. Professor Ben. This is my old teammate, Jinx." Flint stated proudly.

"Please, call me Kimi." Jinx replied, holding out her hand. Father McCabe took it warmly.

"Well, Kimi. Welcome to Lakeside. If there is anything you need, my church is the biggest in town, and the only one equipped with a boxing gym in the basement." Father McCabe said, shaking Kimi's hand.

"Now that sounds like a church I could go frequently. Thank you, Father." Jinx replied.

"Pleasure to meet you." Professor Ben stated, holding out an open hand. Jinx took it and shook it happily. Flint stepped next to his cousin.

"This is Ben Hart, but everyone here calls him Professor Ben. He is also mine and Lady Jaye's cousin." Flint added, patting a hand on Professor Ben's back. Jinx walked in front of Professor Ben and gave a short, formal, polite bow.

"Professor Ben." Jinx said as she raised herself upright. "It is a pleasure. Lady Jaye was a true friend." Professor Ben nodded, smiling reflectively. Jinx turned back to Flint.

"The General filled me in and told me I would find you here. He said the Baroness was behind the flood. I can only imagine how conflicted you are. That's why we came to help. For you and Blue Jaye."

"You know Blue Jaye?" Flint asked.

"Yes." Jinx replied, still holding Flint's hand. "We helped train her."

"We?" Flint questioned, taking a step back with a cocked eyebrow.

"Yes, we." Came another reply from the doorway.

Standing in the front entrance of the bar, stood Tommy Arashikage, aka Storm Shadow. He wore a long white linen hanfu shirt, a pair of ivory fisherman pants, and sandals. It was a brisk and snowy November day, but Tommy stood un-phased by the temperature. A smile appeared from his worn cheeks as he walked up to Flint and reached out his hand. Flint took it and they pulled each other in for an embrace.

"I know we have not always been on the same side. But today we are. Blue Jaye is confident and strong, but she is lacking experience." Tommy said.

"And between the three of us, we are overflowing with experience." Jinx added jokingly and put her hand on Tommy's back.

Flint looked to Father McCabe and his cousin for some sort of guidance. With the emergence of his old teammate Jinx and the powerful ally in Tommy, his mood had risen, and a surge of adrenaline began to course through his forearms and biceps. Ben gave him a quick wink.

"Sounds like you have one more adventure in store doesn't it?" Ben asked.

"It sure does." Flint said through a wide grin.

Chapter 41

The snowfall had picked up again as Agent Blue Jaye, Agent Oakley, and Sherriff Smith trudged up the steep side of forest approaching the abandoned radar station. The flakes were small and intense, making it slow going. Blue Jaye looked up into the storm as the snow coated her blue hair in soft white specks. Tall pines and white birches rose high above, their tips hidden in the whiteout.

Blue Jaye wore a blue Northface jacket and a pair of black Burton snow pants and boots. Sparrow Hawk was fastened securely over her shoulder, with a quiver of steel tipped arrows. The Sherriff wore a fur brimmed brown Carhart jacket over his olive uniform. He carried a shotgun, his sidearm, and a tactical ammo bag slung over his shoulder. Oakley brought up the rear. The top and brim of her Stetson hat was covered in a layer of snow, and a large buffalo pelt was draped around her shoulders, hanging down to the ivory hilts of her six-shooters.

Blue Jaye looked over to the Sherriff who trudged up the hill. A schematic grid, emulating from her contact lens began to overlay on the terrain in front of them. Through the sheets of falling snow, a path was laid out for them. The Sherriff turned to Blue Jaye, nodding upward, indicating that he saw the same thing from his lens.

"This is the safest and the quickest way up. You're close. About half a mile to the first radar tower on the south end." Mainframe stated through their earpieces.

"Anyone up there we should be worried about?" Oakley asked.

"Let me get a drone activated so I can check." Mainframe replied.

A beep came from Blue Jaye's wristwatch and she held her hand out as the face of her watch started flashing blue. The watch face detached, then hovered for a moment before rising into the falling snowflakes and out of sight. The trio stood in silence for the next few moments until Mainframe reported what he saw.

"Cobra has established itself on the far side of the complex and is occupying the large tower. I am not seeing any movement or getting any heat signature readings from the tower closest to you. You are in a good position." Mainframe stated.

"So, what's the plan?" The Sherriff asked, looking toward Blue Jaye. Blue Jaye hesitated.

"Mainframe, can you spot any sign of Cricket?" Blue Jaye asked quietly, holding her earpiece.

"No, nothing outside the complex. But the signal I'm getting from her is faint, which makes me think she is underneath the silo in the tunnels and mine shafts below." Mainframe replied.

"Do you know if there is a way to the mine close where we are?" Blue Jaye asked.

The electronic schematic coming from their eyepieces changed, replaced by the feed from the drone. Blue Jaye saw an aerial view of the forest and the roof of the radar silo they were approaching. In the top right of the screen, the words Seismic Reading Commencing, appeared.

"I'm running a seismic scan of the area to see if there are any entrances by the silo. The drone is sending pulse waves down to the forest floor, looking for any depressions or open spaces." Mainframe stated.

A flashing green light appeared in the middle of the screen, and the drone descended. Soon, it hovered in front of a small wooden shed with a Vermont Power logo printed on the door. The wood was worn, and the roof was dilapidated.

"There is an entrance in the shed. Let me map out a path for you. It's only forty yards from your current location." Mainframe stated.

In their eye pieces, the three saw another electronic path laid out for them slightly to the left of the radar silo. As the three walked toward the shed, the Sherriff cocked his gun as Oakley unholstered her pistols, checking the barrels and making sure they were fully loaded. Blue Jaye removed Sparrow Hawk and held it firm. Even with the heavy snow and cold, the bow felt warm in her hands. She had never been in a fight let alone a battle, but here she was, carrying a bow and arrow, when everyone else had guns. She looked up, realizing that Oakley and the Sherriff were staring back at her.

"Are you ok?" The Sherriff asked.

Blue Jaye looked at him, trying to imagine the young boy she went to college with. Instead, she saw a man, confident and determined. Her stomach began to churn as a warmth crept through her chest.

"I think so." She replied, trying to build her confidence. Oakley walked over and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry I'll take the lead, ok? The Sherriff and I will handle most of the shooting. You just need to be ready if we need your help." Oakley stated tenderly, giving Blue Jaye a big smile and tipping the brim of her hat.

"Ok, got it. I am sure this thing will do some damage, even against whatever armor they're wearing." Blue Jaye stated confidently, holding Sparrow Hawk up in the air.

"It will do more than just cause damage." Mainframe stated as the trio continued their final ascent. "Sleek and silent, the war bow has helped shape the history of combat. During the Hundred Years War in the Battle of Crecy in 1346, Edward II engaged 7,000 archers, half his army, against Philip VI of France. The victory displayed the how effective the bow was. At 300 pounds of pressure, firing thirty to forty yards at close range, even the French armor couldn't absorb the force of the blows. All you have to do is aim and fire, and you won't have to worry about a thing." Mainframe rambled on until they reached the small wooden shed.

The door to the shed had a simple lock, and after a swift kick from the Sherriff, they walked into the small square room. Two large electrical boxes were mounted to one side of the shed, their corners coated in red rust. An old rotary phone hung on the adjacent wall.

"Give me a second to run a scan." Mainframe stated as the small drone floated into the shed and began scanning the walls, ceiling and floor.

"Under the floorboards there is a trapdoor." Mainframe said.

Oakley dropped down to one knee and reached behind her Buffalo pelt to unsheathe a large bowie knife. Quickly and carefully, she wedged it into one of the floorboards and began prying them loose. Soon, a trap door was exposed. There was a small tubular lock, rusted solid.

Before anyone could speak, the small drone flew down to the lock and began flashing red. Then, a small stream of light shot out onto the lock. Within seconds, the lock began to smoke and spark. All three looked on in amazement as lock melted away. Blue Jaye reached down and grabbed the handle, yanking the trap door open. The small drone floated down the hole, exposing a set of stone stairs in the earth. After a few moments, Mainframe squawked in their ears.

"All clear." He said, as the trio slowly descended the stairs.

The blue glow from the drone led them down the stairs into a long corridor below the radar station. Every so often, Mainframe would have them wait as he flew the drone ahead of them, making sure they were not detected. They moved through another hallway out into a large underground cave. A single file bridge stretched across the large black abyss. Above them, stalactites hung like icicles, dripping water down into the echoing dark. The three crossed the bridge and at the other end they reached a sealed metal door. To the right of the door was a digital panel. Blue Jaye walked up to the door.

"Take out your phone." Mainframe stated. Blue Jaye reached into her jacket and brought out the smart phone Spirit issued her.

"Put the face against the display panel to the right of the door." Mainframe said. Blue Jaye placed the phone on the panel and a green light lit up as the door slid open.

Walking through, Mainframe led them down another long corridor. At the end of the hall, they saw a faint spec of light. Carefully, they moved forward. As they got closer, they could see that the far end of the hallway was lit by strings of fluorescent bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

"Looks like this part of the tunnel has power. We must be getting close." The Sherriff whispered. Blue Jaye and Oakley nodded in agreement.

"Give me a second to check it out." Mainframe stated.

The small drone then floated close to the ceiling near an air duct. Quietly, it slipped through the metal vents into the duct. The three waited in silence until they heard Mainframe in their ears.

"Ok, I have located Cricket. This hallway goes on for another 100 yards until it turns right past a generator room, control room, and four other rooms which look like abandoned medical laboratories. Cricket's signal is coming from one of these laboratories. Apparently, she has locked herself in, and the Baroness, Governor Minh, and twelve Cobra troops are on the other side. We don't have much time." Mainframe stated.

Oakley and the Sherriff both turned to Blue Jaye unsure of what to do next. Blue Jaye looked down the hall and up toward the vent by the ceiling. Then, something clicked in her head and her mind began to race. She smiled at the Sherriff and Oakley.

"Here's what we are going to do." She stated, as she crouched down and told everyone her plan.

Chapter 42

Cricket sat slumped in the far corner of the abandoned laboratory, clicking on the top of her S.O.S. pen, staring at the locked door in front of her. She had scrambled the lock sequence and broken off the handle, but whoever was on the other side had begun to pound what sounded like an axe. It was only a matter of time before they were inside.

She looked down at her captor, Zanya who laid unconscious next to her. It had been almost twenty minutes since she had barricaded herself in the room, and even though she had been signaling for help, she started to fear no one was coming. After a few more loud bangs on the other side of the door, she reached down and grabbed Zanya's pistol. Checking the clip, she flicked off the safety and aimed it toward the door. At least I will take a few with me, she thought to herself as she swallowed deeply.

As the banging continued, a soft blue light from the ceiling distracted her. She looked up and saw the glow was coming from a vent on the wall above her. The light intensified until a small disc, no bigger than a quarter, floated out of the vent and hovered in front of her face.

Cricket stared at the small glowing object. Suddenly, the glow from the disc changed from blue to green. The disc began to flash intermittently. Cricket looked as it fluttered in mid-air. Then, it hit her. The flashes weren't random, they were Morse code.

Shaking her head, Cricket snapped herself into focus, working to decipher the message. She realized a three-person team was down the hall, less than a hundred yards away. The message instructed her to climb through the air vent and crawl down the duct to the team's current location.

It was a solid plan, but Cricket would need help getting up into the vent. She had hoped she wouldn't have to wake Zanya at this point, but thinking through her options, she realized she had no choice. Reaching into her bag, Cricket removed the small zipper pouch which contained the last shot of adrenaline. Scooting herself over where Zanya was lying on the floor, she carefully rolled her over and placed two fingers on the center of her chest. Cricket then removed the cap of the syringe with her teeth and forcefully stuck the needle in and pressed down on the plunger.

Cricket moved back as Zanya let out a gasp, followed by a long groan. At least she is still alive, Cricket thought gladly. Even though this woman had kidnapped her, she felt a trust forming between them. She didn't know if it was the hatred of their shared enemy, or the fact that deep down, Cricket believed this woman was truly a good person.

Putting her hand under Zanya's head, Cricket pulled her upright to a sitting position. The bangs from the door echoed in the room, jolting Zanya awake. Confused, she took in the dark empty laboratory, then looked down at the S.T.O.R.M. case, and then at Cricket. Her eyes narrowed.

"Why didn't you let me deal with them? Why didn't you let me die?" Zanya asked. Her face shared a sense of sadness mixed with fury.

"Because I'm not going to let you die alone. We either get out of here together, or we die together." Cricket responded, staring deadest at Zanya.

After another loud bang, Zanya let out a sigh.

"Ok, so now what? Wait till they come through the door and take out as many as we can? They have us pinned down you know?" Zanya asked.

"There is another way. Up there." Cricket replied, gesturing toward the air vent by the ceiling.

"My team is close by. If we can get into the vent, they'll direct us where to go." Cricket said. Zanya looked up toward the vent as another loud bang hit the outside of the door.

"Ok. Lift me up." Zanya said as she tried to stand, immediately toppling back to the ground. Moaning, she cradled her mangled arm and sank back onto her knees.

"Don't worry, I have enough upper body strength to pull you up." Cricket stated as she grabbed her crutches and rose to a standing position.

Zanya gave her a brief smile and walked over and crouched against the wall directly under the air vent. Cricket swung her legs around Zanya's shoulders. She then picked up her crutches and clicked a button on each side. The crutches then compacted into itself. Cricket secured them to a latch on the back of her belt. Another loud bang hit the outside of the door.

"Ok, raise me up as far as you can." Cricket stated.

Zanya hoisted herself up as Cricket swung her arms up, propelling her body toward the vent. Cricket grabbed the vent cover and pulled with all her strength ripping it off the wall.

"One more time!" Cricket shouted as Zanya lifted with all she had left.

Again, Cricket launched herself upward and grasped the bottom of the opening as another loud bang echoed from the troops trying to get in. Hanging from the air duct, Cricket pulled herself up. The next bang resulted in a loud crack coming from the door. They would be in the room in a few seconds.

"Give me my med bag and the S.T.O.R.M. case!" Cricket shouted.

"But you already have the drive." Zanya retorted.

"Quickly, give them to me!" Cricket shouted again, a frantic look on her face.

Zanya started to protest, but another loud crack came from the door behind them. Without arguing, she handed the bag and case to Cricket. Cricket reached down, grabbed Zanya, and pulled with all her strength, hoisting her up into the duct. As they shimmied a few yards down the vent, they heard the door break open, and the mass of troops poured into the room, their shouts echoing in the small tunnel around them.

Chapter 43

"Ok, I have some good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?" Mainframe asked.

Blue Jaye, Sherriff Smith, and Oakley were all crouched in the hallway under the air vent as the drone returned. They had their weapons drawn.

"Good news first, please." Blue Jaye replied.

"Ok. The good news is that Cricket is on her way. The bad news is so are Cobra." Mainframe replied.

The Sherriff pumped his shotgun as Oakley twirled her pistols in her hands before cocking each with her thumbs. Blue Jaye drew back on Sparrow Hawk and turned toward the far end of the lit hallway. The lines of hanging fluorescent lights swung gently above.

"How much time till Cricket reaches us?" Blue Jaye asked. She began to hear the faint shouts and footsteps approaching.

"Maybe ninety seconds." Mainframe replied. The voices were getting louder.

"How long till the bad guys get here?" Oakley asked.

"Less than that." Mainframe stated bluntly.

Blue Jaye took a deep breath. The Sherriff walked over and put his hand on her shoulder and smiled. He leaned in and whispered to her.

"Jessie. It's me. Jason. Just like before, I won't let anything happen to you ok?" The Sherriff said and then stepped back.

Blue Jaye smiled not knowing what to say. The Sherriff stepped in front of her and positioned himself a few yards down the hall. Oakley gave Blue Jaye a wink, tipped her Stetson, and stood a few feet behind the Sherriff. Blue Jaye drew an arrow and stepped in back of them. The arrow pulled back with ease.

Soon, silhouettes of the soldiers appeared. As they came into focus, Blue Jaye saw they were dressed entirely in black tactical gear with armored plating on their shoulders, forearms, chests, and thighs. They wore dark goggles with tight-fitting helmets. Each carried a tactical sub-machine gun.

"Don't fire until they do. Wait until they are right on us." Oakley said, bouncing her weight from hip to hip.

They counted ten soldiers before they opened fire. Instinctually, the Sherriff dropped to one knee and fired both barrels of his shotgun. The first two soldiers folded over as the blasts blew them back, knocking down the troops running behind them.

Oakley stepped forward shooting both pistols, connecting with the next two soldiers' heads as they tripped and toppled over their teammates. The next two troopers jumped over the bodies in front of them and let loose a string of fire. Oakley and the Sherriff ducked out of the way. Without hesitating, Blue Jaye aimed at the first soldier she saw and let go of an arrow.

Blue Jaye was surprised at the speed at which the arrow shot through the air. It slammed into the soldier's chest knocking him back on his butt as he grasped frantically at his breast plate. The Sherriff regained his composure and lowered his weapon, hitting the next soldier in the side who spun lifelessly to the floor.

Cricket spun the cylinders of her six-shooters over the bandoliers that crisscrossed over her chest, reloading. She then fired a succession of four shots within seconds. Blue Jaye and the Sherriff looked on with amazement as the bullets connected with each soldier's head, snapping them backward. As they tumbled over each other, the group of dead troopers created a barrier between them and the Joes.

"Not bad for a bunch of rookies." Mainframe chidingly congratulated them through their earpieces.

The gunfire ceased, and instead of advancing, it sounded like the soldiers were re-grouping. Mainframe flew the small drone to the ceiling attempting to get a better view of the remaining Cobra agents. As he maneuvered the drone however, the Cobra soldiers fired, trying to shoot it out of the sky. Mainframe quickly retreated, lowering it back down to Blue Jaye, Oakley, and the Sherriff.

"Ok, there are two remaining Cobra soldiers, Governor Minh, the Baroness, and Firefly." Mainframe stated.

"Who's Firefly?" Blue Jaye asked.

"Someone you can't beat." Mainframe answered.

"How long till Cricket is in the clear?" Blue Jaye replied.

Mainframe was about to respond when they heard a loud crack coming from the ceiling above them. They heard a metallic tear as one of the panels broke, bringing Cricket and Zanya crashing down to the floor. There was a confused silence from both sides of the hallway.

As the dust settled, Blue Jaye saw her friend, Elise, now Agent Cricket, rolling over in pain. She was dressed in green fatigues and was grabbing at Zanya who crashed down with her. Zanya wore a leather biker jacket and jeans and her left arm was matted with blood. On the floor next to them was a large case.

"There it is! Get that case!" A woman's voice shouted from where the Cobra soldiers were situated.

It was then that Blue Jaye and Cricket saw each other. Cricket's eyes went wide as she confusingly recognized her old friend. She looked behind her at the Cobra troops and then back toward Blue Jaye. Suddenly, they realized Cricket was a wide-open target.

"My daddy always told me the best defense was a good offense." Oakley stated, spinning her six shooters in her hands.

Without hesitating, Oakley charged toward the Cobra troops. The Sherriff instinctually followed with Blue Jaye right behind him. One of the soldiers jumped over the mound of bodies just as his neck snapped back from one of Oakley's bullets. The second soldier jumped out ducking into a roll. As he emerged, he was propelled back from a shotgun blast from the Sherriff. Oakley and the Sherriff continued to advance as Blue Jaye crouched down next to Cricket.

"Elise. Are you ok?" Blue Jaye asked.

"Jessie? What are you doing here?" Cricket asked. Blue Jaye smiled warmly.

"Long story. Right now, we have to get out of here." Blue Jaye replied, looking up toward the Sherriff and Oakley.

As the Sherriff and Oakley charged down the hall, Blue Jaye looked past them and saw the Baroness, Governor Minh, and the soldier called Firefly step into view. Governor Minh was dressed in a red winter jacket with black snow pants while Firefly was dressed head to toe in gray camo fatigues, body armor and goggles. The Baroness stood between them, her silver hair falling behind her back. She wore a long black trench coat with a tactical jumpsuit and designer combat boots that ran up to her knees. Blue Jaye also made out a large ruby around her neck.

The Baroness whispered something to Firefly who grabbed Deborah by the arm and led her swiftly down the hall away from the fight. Smiling at the Sherriff and Oakley and as they neared, the Baroness raised her right arm. The sleeve of her jacket fell below her elbow exposing a silver arm cuff that stretched the length of her forearm.

Then, what looked like two small red rockets rose out of the top of the cuff. Blue Jaye shouted to the Sherriff and Oakley as the Baroness fired one of the rockets. Propelling forward, the rocket left a trail of smoke snaking in the air behind it. Oakley quickly fired from her hip and the bullet deflected off sending the rocket spiraling down the hall like a firework. It detonated directly in front of them ripping a hole in the floor, and sent the Sherriff and Oakley toppling down to the level below.

A hot rage churned in Blue Jaye's gut not knowing if her friends and teammates were alive or dead. She stood up and pulled back Sparrow Hawk with all her strength and emotion and fired. The arrow rocketed through the air and hurtled directly toward the Baroness's head.

Completely surprised by the strength of the shot, the Baroness only had a few seconds to react. Instead of firing another rocket, she tapped the red ruby around her neck. Immediately, a layer of liquid metal extended out of the necklace and covered the Baroness's entire head in a solid chrome helmet.

The arrow struck her dead in the forehead as the mask completed forming. Knocking the Baroness back, the arrow deflected off with a metallic clang. Recovering from the shot, the Baroness raised her arm cuff again and fired another small rocket. The rocket propelled through the air directly toward Blue Jaye. Without time to reload, Blue Jaye swung Sparrow Hawk like a sword in front of her. To her and the Baroness's surprise, the bow connected with the rocket, knocking it off its trajectory, detonating into the ceiling above her. Blue Jaye dove out of the way just in time as a wall of rock, metal, and debris fell, blocking the hallway in front of her.

Chapter 44

Blue Jaye stared at the rubble now completely blocking the corridor in front of her. She patted down her chest and legs, checking for injuries. Miraculously, she was unharmed. Looking to her right, Sparrow Hawk rested on the ground.

"Jessie." Cricket called out softly to Blue Jaye.

Blue Jaye turned around and saw her old college roommate and best friend Elise, standing up with her crutches.

"Elise." Blue Jaye said, as she grabbed her bow and walked over to her old friend.

They embraced and started to cry. She let go and looked, astonished, as Cricket stood on her crutches.

"You can walk." Blue Jaye said, her eyes growing wet as she fought back the tears.

The last time they had been together, Elise was in a wheelchair and the doctors said that she would never walk again. Yet here she stood in front of her, strong, confident, and a G.I. Joe.

"Sort of." Cricket responded with a short laugh. "General Spirit paid for my rehab down in Maryland. He said I needed to keep everything a secret."

"He told me the same thing." Blue Jaye replied with a smirk. I will have to have a chat with the General the next time I see him, Blue Jaye thought to herself.

"Well, he got me into an experimental procedure. They put a chip in my back that reactivates the communication between my brain and the nerves in my legs. It took a while for me to get to this point, but hopefully it will get even better." Cricket said. Blue Jaye nodded back, now unable to stop the tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Elise. It's just so good to see you again." Blue Jaye said, as they embraced again.

"It's good to see you. But I guess you need to call me by my codename now. It's Cricket." Cricket said with a smile.

"Of course, sorry." Blue Jaye chuckled shaking her head and smiling. She patted her chest. "I'm Blue Jaye."

"Cool name. Is it because of the hair?" Cricket said.

"No, not the hair. It's a long story that actually has to do with Flint." Blue Jaye replied.

"Flint? What does he have to do with it?" Cricket asked curiously.

"Like I said. It's a long story, and unfortunately not something that we have time to get into right now." Blue Jaye replied, looking back toward the debris.

"Right." Cricket replied, also looking toward the rubble blocking the hallway.

Blue Jaye removed her earpiece and blew the dust off. She then clicked the button on the side. The blue light did not turn on.

"Let me see that." Cricket said.

Blue Jaye handed the earpiece to Cricket.

"Did the General issue you a smart phone?" Cricket asked.

Blue Jaye nodded and gave her phone to Cricket. Cricket took the phone and entered a code onto the screen. She then placed the earpiece on its face. The screen turned green and a line of text appeared that read Com Unit 5687, recalibrating. The screen then turned blue, and Cricket removed the earpiece, clicked the button, and the tiny light activated. Blue Jaye looked on in amazement.

"I'm a Communications Officer." Cricket said with a proud smile.

Blue Jaye pulled some blue locks behind her ear and put the earpiece back in.

"Mainframe? Can you read me?" Blue Jaye asked.

"Yes, I read you. Are you ok? Are you hurt?" Mainframe responded sounding both elated and concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm with Agent Cricket and Zanya. Are Oakley and the Sherriff ok?" Blue Jaye asked a little frantic herself.

"Yes, they are fine. They fell down to the next level with the drone. I am with them and have set a course for them to get out through the west tower. We need to get you guys out too. Firefly and the Baroness are still down there and I'm sure they have sent for reinforcements." Mainframe stated.

"Do you know how to get out of here without the drone?" Blue Jaye asked.

"Unfortunately, the only way I tracked was the way that's now blocked by the rubble in front of you." Mainframe stated. Blue Jaye frowned and shook her head at Cricket.

"What about her?" Cricket asked, gesturing to Zanya, who was lying on the floor, moaning softly.

Blue Jaye and Cricket walked over to where Zanya was lying. Her chest was rising and falling, and her breath seemed labored. Her eyes were open, and she blinked, looking at the two as they hovered above her.

The schematic in Blue Jaye's contact lens scanned Zanya's face and body. An electronic file appeared, identifying the woman as the current leader of the Dreadnok gang. Mainframe also brought up Zanya's biometric reading. Blue Jaye saw her vitals were failing and if she didn't get to a hospital soon, she would certainly die.

"This is the woman who kidnapped you?" Blue Jaye asked.

"Yes. Her name is Zanya. Her condition has deteriorated drastically." Cricket said, looking apologetically down at Zanya.

"Who are you?" Zanya asked in a raspy voice, looking at Blue Jaye.

"Agent Blue Jaye. G.I. Joe." Blue Jaye responded.

From what she saw in her file, Blue Jaye knew Zanya was a killer. Even though she was near death and lying in front of them, Blue Jaye felt little sympathy for her. She looked over to Cricket.

"Can we trust her?" Blue Jaye asked Cricket.

"Absolutely not. Zanya is nothing but a cold-blooded killer with allegiance only to her family." Mainframe interjected.

"I trust her. I don't know why. I know I shouldn't, but I do." Cricket said, looking back down at Zanya.

Zanya, who was grimacing now turned to Cricket. She tried to hide the shock and admiration from her expression. She placed her good hand firmly on the ground next to her and tried to get up. Groaning, she stumbled. Cricket reached down and grabbed her with one arm. Blue Jaye wrapped another arm around her waist to prevent her from toppling over.

"Thank you." Zanya said as she stood up. "You have no reason to trust me. But under the circumstances, it doesn't look like you have much choice, do you?"

Blue Jaye stared back at her in silence. She looked at Cricket not knowing what to say. Mainframe squawked in her ear.

"Again, you can't trust her." He restated. Blue Jaye pondered the situation looking at her old friend.

"If Cricket vouches for you, I'll give you a shot. But if it turns out you are lying, there will be no second chances. Do you understand?" Blue Jaye stated, standing fast. Zanya tried to laugh, but all that came through was a bloody cough.

"Whatever you say, Jaye." She replied.

"So, how do we get out of here?" Cricket asked, changing the conversation before the situation got any more tense.

Zanya took in her surroundings and then looked down the open end of hallway. She winked at Cricket and Blue Jaye, and then turned down the corridor.

"This way. Quickly." She said and began to scurry down the hall.

"She seems to have more energy than she let on." Blue Jaye whispered to Cricket as they hastened to catch up.

"I told you. You can't trust her." Mainframe said, as they followed her down the corridor.

Zanya led them down the darkened hall and up a small flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs, they turned right into a room that was lit only by red emergency lighting. She stopped and waited for Cricket to make it up the stairs.

"Through this room is a hallway that leads to a working elevator which will bring us to the surface. If we make it ahead of the Baroness and Firefly, we'll be in the clear." Zanya said, sweat pouring off her face.

"What if they beat us to it?" Blue Jaye asked.

"Then, we're in trouble." Zanya replied.

Zanya turned and grimaced as her injured hand slid against the wall. A black streak of blood smeared on the concrete. She paused to take a breath.

"Are you going to make it?" Cricket asked.

"I'll make it as far as I can, I guess." Zanya replied, returning a weak smile to Cricket.

Blue Jaye frowned and followed close behind them through the room and into the next hall. At the end of the hall was a set of swinging double doors. Reaching the doors, Zanya carefully peered through before crouching down to the floor. Blue Jaye and Cricket knelt down beside her.

"Looks like they got here first." Zanya said, sneering up at the window.

Slowly, Blue Jaye rose to take a look. Through the window in the door, she saw the elevator. In front of the elevator, stood the camouflaged soldier Mainframe referred to as Firefly. Sitting down on a metal crate next to him, was Deborah Minh.

Deborah sat holding a pistol. Blue Jaye suspected Firefly had given it to her for her protection. Looking at her face, Deborah looked pained and exhausted. Once the leader of her community, now she was a traitor and a Cobra ally. Firefly rested his suppressed sub-machine gun on his shoulder. In his other hand, he held a small walkie talkie to his ear. His face was completely covered in a camo balaclava so Blue Jaye could not determine what he was saying. She crouched back by Cricket and Zanya.

"Firefly and Governor Minh are standing in front of the elevator." Blue Jaye said. Zanya remained silent.

"What do we do?" Cricket asked.

"Find another way out. There is no way you can beat Firefly, especially with Zanya in her current state." Mainframe said in Blue Jaye's ear.

"Is there another way out?" Blue Jaye whispered quietly. Zanya shook her head.

"No. That is the only way." Zanya replied.

"We can't beat Firefly, can we?" Cricket asked.

"Not a chance." Zanya replied quickly and curtly. "The only people I know who can beat him are ninjas." Zanya added.

Blue Jaye looked down at Sparrow Hawk and grasped the grip on the bow. She motioned to Cricket.

"How many clips do you have for your sidearm?" Blue Jaye asked.

"Three." Cricket replied. Zanya shook her head from side to side.

"Again, it won't help. He can easily catch your arrows in mid-air, and he has been trained to dodge bullets. We will be killed for sure." Zanya stated.

No one had anything to add. For the next few moments, they sat in silence. Even Mainframe couldn't think of anything. Finally, Zanya stared directly at Blue Jaye.

"The only way I can think of is if you trust me with your lives. Is that something that you can do?" Zanya asked. Cricket cocked her head, wondering what she was up to.

"No, you can't." Mainframe added.

Blue Jaye turned to Cricket who was staring at Zanya. She could see Cricket had faith in her. There was no one in the world Blue Jaye trusted more than Elise, but this was a completely different circumstance. If they were wrong, they were dead. Finally, she turned to Zanya.

"What are you thinking?" She asked.

Zanya reached in her jacket and removed a set of zip ties.

"Trust me, this is the only way." Zanya said.

"Don't shoot, it's me Zanya!" Zanya shouted from the other side of the double doors.

She looked through the window and saw Firefly had his gun aimed right at her head. She gave a slight wave and then slowly pushed through. Leaning on the door with her bad arm, Zanya did her best to suppress a groan as she swung it open. She had both hands raised as best she could as she slowly walked through the doors. Firefly paused before lowering his rifle. Deborah looked at her with surprise.

"I have two captured Joes!" She continued to shout as she stepped aside and pointed back through the door from which she came.

Slowly, Blue Jaye emerged. Her hands were zip tied in front of her and her head was lowered as she held the S.T.O.R.M. case. Strands of blue hair fell in front of her face. Cricket followed slowly on crutches, a streak of blood smeared across the left side of her face. They both came to a stop next to Zanya.

Firefly raised his rifle and casually walked over.

"I need a weapon. I got the drop on them but lost it in the fight." Zanya said.

Firefly gestured toward Deborah. Deborah looked and stood up quickly.

"Governor Minh. Please give Zanya your gun." Firefly asked as Zanya walked over and took the gun from Deborah. Firefly then stepped over to Cricket, looked her up and down, and laughed through his knit mask. Turning to Blue Jaye, he put the tip of his gun under her chin and raised her head so he could see her face. She quickly whipped her head away. He laughed again and walked back toward Zanya.

"Well, well, well. Haven't you been a busy bee?" He stated.

Chapter 45

Oakley and the Sherriff ran up a flight of metal stairs toward the surface behind the small blue drone leading the way. Mainframe had synched the drone's video feed with their eye pieces and was guiding them up and out. Their earpieces were damaged in the blast so they couldn't talk to Mainframe, but their video was still up which made it easy to follow the drone.

Oakley raced up the stairs, every so often adjusting the brim of her Stetson hat. Her six-shooters were strapped back in her holsters and the only thing going through her mind was ensuring her partner Cricket was safe. They had only been together for the past three months, but Oakley felt close a bond between them. It was a trust she hadn't felt since her father died, and she wasn't going to let it go.

With her boorish attitude, she never really had any consistent friends, but Cricket seemed to look past all her hooting and hollering. It brought he best out in Oakley as well. For the past three years, they only thing she wanted was to be a Joe. Now, the only thing that mattered was making sure her partner was ok.

The drone feed coming through their contact lens showed the staircase was ending ahead of them. At the top of the stairs was a landing and a ladder leading up to another trap door. We're almost out, Oakley thought as she raced past the Sherriff and started climbing the ladder.

The Sherriff grabbed the first rung and began his ascent. As he gripped the sidebar climbing to the surface, all he could think about was Blue Jaye. It had been two years, but the feelings he felt for her were still as strong as the day she left Lakeside. They had met during their final year at the University when their paths were thrown together in the incident that turned the town upside down for a week.

After they helped save the town, they were named heroes, and then went their different ways. If it wasn't for his loyalty to Sherriff Douglas, he would have tracked her down and told her how he felt about her. Every time he saw her, his stomach would grumble, and his head would get all warm and sweaty. He knew he cared for her, but up until now he never knew how much he really loved her.

The Sherriff saw the small drone melting the lock on the trap door. He moved aside to let the small smoldering piece of metal fall past him as Oakley pushed the trap door open and jumped out into the abandoned radar tower. The Sherriff followed her and stood up, finally out of the bunker.

There was no Cobra presence in the western tower. The circular structure rose high, probably forty feet above them. Water dripped down into a few large puddles from holes in the ceiling that had rusted through. Other than a few metal tables and chairs that were scattered around, the building was empty, and their footsteps echoed against the walls.

About fifty yards to their right, they saw a metal door, slightly ajar. They ran across the dampened cement floor till they reached the exit. Peering through, they saw the door opened into the forest. From their vantage point, they couldn't see how close the Cobra troops were, or if Cricket and Blue Jaye were out there.

"I wish that we could get a better view." Oakley said.

The Sherriff turned as the small drone hovered next to them. It started to blink, and then floated up and out of one of the rusted holes in the ceiling. The video coming from their eye pieces flashed on displaying the feed from outside.

Flying above the tower, the drone scanned the area through the snowfall. Panning right, the video examined the activity around the other radar towers. Six black SUVs were parked outside of the south tower by the road entrance. Overlaying a heat signature readout around the silo, the feed identified six individuals pacing back-and-forth. A quick calculation let Oakley and the Sherriff know they were approximately 100 yards from the Cobra troops.

The screen flashed in their eyepieces, and the drone picked up another six-armed soldiers coming out of the woods in two-by-to formation. Flashing again, the video zoomed in on six individuals emerging from inside the radar tower. The feed followed their heat signatures as they walked out into the snow.

The video focused on the last two figures that exited the building. One was looked like their hands were bound in front of them, carrying a small case. The other person was limping on crutches. Oakley let out a gasp.

"That's them. They've been captured." Oakley said, looking at the Sherriff with alarm.

"This is going to make things difficult." The Sherriff replied frustratingly.

At that moment, the video feed began to flash blue. The flashing intensified and a line of text appeared that read, Incoming friendly, please stand by. The drone spun around above the radar tower and locked in on a small shape in the sky. It looked like a black spec. The feed zoomed in on the spec again and again, until the outline of the object came into focus. It was a helicopter, nose down, thundering toward them.

"Is it one of ours?" Oakley asked aloud, looking at the Sherriff.

A digital readout from their contact lens displayed the make and model of the aircraft and the pilot who checked it out. It read Agent Flint. Oakley gave a loud laugh that echoed high above them. The Sherriff smiled widely.

"Well if it isn't the cavalry. Just in time!" Oakley yelled in triumph, before rolling the cylinders of her six-shooters across her bandoliers, getting them loaded for the final fight.

Chapter 46

The nose of the CH-53K heavy-lift helicopter bore down in the storm as streams of snow rushed past the cockpit window. Flint was manning the cyclic handle while keeping his other hand on the throttle. The outline of the abandoned radar station began to take shape through snowstorm. Flint's smart phone was mounted to the top of the control panel. It was flashing and had synched with the drone Mainframe was controlling over the radar towers. The video showed at least twelve Cobra troops by the south tower. Blue Jaye and Cricket had been captured and were being heavily guarded. Oakley and the Sherriff were staked out by the western tower, about 100 yards from the Cobra troops.

Flint looked back in the cabin at Jinx and Storm Shadow. Storm Shadow was wearing a pair of white Kung-Fu sandals with a matching Wushu Taichi suit. The silken material fluttered as he leaned over and opened the side door of the cabin. The brisk November air rushed through the helicopter, but Jinx and Storm Shadow were unfazed as the snow bounced off their faces.

Jinx walked behind Storm Shadow who was holding onto one of the nylon straps that lined the top of the chopper. She grabbed a black backpack and strapped Storm Shadow's katana to his back. She then stepped to Storm Shadow's side and gave him a wink.

Jinx was wearing a pair of black combat boots, a black M65 tactical jacket with yellow stripes down the sleeves, and a pair of matching pants. Two sais were strapped to each of her thighs and her red sheathed katana was secured behind her back. She walked into the cockpit to speak with Flint.

"How much longer?" She asked.

"Forty-five seconds." Flint shouted.

Jinx looked through the window and saw the radar station getting closer. Dropping the helicopter as they approached the first tower, Flint could see the small outlines of the Cobra troops running in the snow. He turned his head back toward Jinx.

"Better get ready to jump. I'll draw their fire!" He yelled.

Jinx nodded and placed her hand on Flint's shoulder before returning to the cabin. She cocked her eyebrows at Storm Shadow as they both grabbed a strap close to the open door. The first radar silo raced under them as Flint brought down the nose and flew over the Cobra troops. A splattering of bullets harmlessly struck the bottom of the chopper. Flint spun around in his seat to give Jinx and Storm Shadow a big thumbs up, but when he turned, he saw they were gone.

Flint then pulled the nose of the chopper up and swung over the Cobra troops as another round of bullets sliced into the side of the chopper. Alarms and red lights lit up on the control panel in front of him and a thick plume of black smoke began to rush past the windshield. Flint turned the copter around and dropped it almost on top of the Cobra troops.

A group of troopers dove out of the way as he raced past. Another splattering of bullets hit the tail of the chopper, shredding the rotor and sending him into a spin. Flint yanked the handle as hard as he could, forcing the copter upright as it barreled toward the forest trees.

Avoiding a direct collision with a set of pine trees, Flint maneuvered the chopper into the woods. The blades got caught up in the branches and snapped to pieces, forcing the chopper skidding down in the snow.

The chopper slid to a stop and Flint unstrapped himself and ran back into the cabin. He could hear the shouts from the Cobra troops advancing on him in the woods. Punching open a drawer, he grabbed his shotgun, quickly loaded it, and stuffed two handfuls of shells in the pockets of his worn leather bomber jacket.

As the voices got louder, Flint ran out and climbed a tree by the wreckage. Soon, the Cobra troops arrived and surrounded the helicopter with their machine guns drawn. The two closest to the cockpit fired a few rounds inside before poking their heads through.

It only took a few moments before they realized the helicopter was empty. Flint watched as they cautiously began to fan out. One of the troopers saw footprints in the snow and cautiously began to follow them. As he got close, Flint squeezed his gun and dropped down from his perch.

He landed a few feet from the pair of Cobra troopers, raised his shotgun and fired both barrels. Both men shot back violently. Splatters of blood landed in the white snow around them. Before the other troopers could react, Flint charged. He crouched in front of the next trooper and swept his leg, tripping the soldier to the ground. Dropping to one knee Flint fired at the next soldier's midsection, cutting the trooper in two as he toppled face first in the snow. Flint slammed the butt of the gun down on the soldier lying next to him and reached for his knife strapped to his side and threw it at the next trooper advancing.

The knife struck the soldier's neck, and a red crimson spewed from the wound as he fell writhing to the ground. The last Cobra trooper stumbled where he stood, nervously raising his rifle and firing wide of Flint who shoved a shell into his shotgun. Rolling over to avoid the next shot, Flint popped up and fired from his waist, sending the trooper flailing back lifelessly. After finishing off the last of the soldiers, Flint turned and began sprinting out of the forest toward the Baroness and the rest of the Cobra troops.

Chapter 47

The wall of pine trees swayed slowly through the snow which continued to pour down. Plumes of black smoke trailed the helicopter as it crashed into the tree line, sliding out of sight into the forest. The Baroness motioned to the remaining troops to keep on alert. With her chrome plated helmet still activated, she walked through the snow to Deborah Minh and put a tender hand on her shoulder. Deborah flinched when she saw the Baroness's head was completely covered in metal.

The helmet was slick, and followed each crevice of her face, from the angle of her forehead to her cheek bones, chin, and neck. As the snow fell on the metal it melted into drops, sliding off the chrome-like skin. The Baroness moved past Deborah toward Firefly and Zanya, who had their weapons trained on Blue Jaye and Cricket. Approaching Blue Jaye, the Baroness smiled and looked down at the S.T.O.R.M. case that she held in her hands. Gently, she reached down and took the case, looking Blue Jaye directly in the eye.

"Thank you, Agent Blue Jaye. Nice to see Spirit finally found a replacement." The Baroness said coyly. Turning away, she walked back to Deborah and handed her the case.

"Take this and get to roof of the south tower. I have signaled a chopper to pick us up in five minutes." The Baroness said. Deborah nodded and started walking toward the spiral staircase that ran up the side of the radar silo.

"What about them?" Firefly asked underneath his camo mask, pointing his gun at Cricket and Blue Jaye. The Baroness turned to face Zanya.

"Kill them." The Baroness stated flatly. She turned to follow Deborah but stopped suddenly when she heard a familiar voice shout out behind her.

"Commander Baroness!" Storm Shadow shouted, standing about fifty yards away.

Jinx stood next to Tommy. Removing her sais, she stepped back, ready for the battle to begin. Storm Shadow stood silent, unmoving as the snow fell around him. His dark eyes stared directly at the Baroness.

"Your reign ends today." Storm Shadow added quietly.

"Firefly. Take your men and handle those two. Zanya and I will deal with the prisoners and meet you at the rendezvous." The Baroness stated.

Firefly nodded quickly before ordering his men into formation to advance on Storm Shadow and Jinx. He left two soldiers to guard Blue Jaye and Cricket.

"Get them on their knees." The Baroness commanded.

The soldiers jabbed their legs with the butts of their rifles and Blue Jaye and Cricket fell awkwardly into the snow. The soldiers grabbed the backs of their jackets and wrenched them up on their knees. The Baroness then turned back to Zanya.

"It's time to repay your father's debt." The Baroness said, smiling through her chrome plated mask.

Zanya returned a deep nod and then walked up to Blue Jaye and Cricket. The soldiers moved to the side. Rising her pistol with her good arm, she looked one last time and the Baroness and winked.

"For my father." She replied. Then, she shifted her aim and shot both Cobra troopers in the head.

The Baroness frowned and immediately reached into her jacket for her nickel plated Janz-Schuknecht pistol. Before she could fire, Zanya unloaded the rest of her clip at the Baroness. The bullets however, bounced harmlessly off her armored jacket and fell softly into the snow.

Regaining her composure, the Baroness shot Zanya in the stomach. The Dreadnok leader slumped forward in the snow in a sad crouch. Rising her gun again, the Baroness trained the barrel on Blue Jaye.

"Shame. I had heard you had so much potential." The Baroness said as her finger wrapped around the trigger.

Straightening out her arm, the Baroness fired. As the shot rang out, the gun exploded in her hand. The Baroness screamed and turned furiously to see Oakley and the Sherriff running up on her flank. Smoke plumed from the barrel of one of Oakley's six-shooters as she let out a sharp war cry and continued to charge.

The Baroness's armor protected her hand from the shot as she shook it off. Raising her arm, she revealed her titanium arm cuff. Two small rockets rose from the cuff and fired toward Oakley and the Sherriff. Coolly, Oakley fired two more shots, connecting with each rocket as they exploded between them and the Baroness. Through the smoke, the Baroness began to retreat toward the southern radar silo.

"You go for the Baroness. I'll get to Blue Jaye and Cricket!" Oakley shouted at the Sherriff.

Running toward Blue Jaye, Oakley saw Cricket hovering over Zanya with her medical bag. She reached Blue Jaye and pulled out her Bowie knife to cut the zip ties around Blue Jaye's hands.

"Back up the Sherriff. I'll help those two ninjas who fell out of the sky." Oakley shouted.

Blue Jaye smiled as Oakley tipped her Stetson and ran toward Storm Shadow and Jinx. Blue Jaye retrieved her bow case from Zanya and took off toward the Sherriff who was chasing the Baroness, quickly closing in.

Almost on her, the Sherriff dove and wrapped his arms around the Baroness's legs, knocking her from her feet and throwing her sideways into the snow. The Baroness rose carefully, facing the Sherriff as they started to circle around each other. Before the Sherriff could decide how to attack, the Baroness was on him. Startled at how she covered the distance so quickly, the Baroness belted him with a swift left and right combo to the ribs, followed by a kick to the groin and a right across his chin that sent him stumbling backward.

The Sherriff side-stepped left, trying to regain his balance. Lunging forward, the Sherriff tried a left-jab, right upper-cut combo, but was easily blocked by the Baroness. Dropping into a squat, the Baroness spun, trying to sweep the Sherriff's legs out from under him. Anticipating the move, the Sherriff jumped back, and shifted his feet.

As the Baroness rose, the Sherriff took the opportunity to attack. Anticipating the Baroness to block, he jabbed with his left, giving him time to land a solid right hook, followed by a punch to her right kidneys. The Baroness hunched forward, and the Sherriff righted her up with a jab to the chin. As her head shot up, he opened the palm of his right hand and plowed it right into her chrome-plated forehead. The Sherriff then delivered a combo of body blows, lifting her off the ground. Side-stepping right for the knock-out, the Sherriff punched with everything he had.

To his surprise, the Baroness jerked her head back at the last moment, spun around behind him, and interlocked her arms under his shoulders, pinning his head down. She then let go and ducked in front of him, slamming her knuckles into his throat. The Sherriff fell to his knees, gasping for air. Walking over casually, the Baroness placed a heel on his shoulder and kicked him to the ground. Aiming her gun at the Sherriff's head, she whispered softly.

"Flint taught you well. But he didn't teach you everything." She said.

Easing her grip on the gun she wrapped her finger around the trigger.

"Goodbye Sherriff Smith." The Baroness said.

Suddenly, a steel tipped arrow slammed into the Baroness's helmet sending her flailing back into the snow. The Sherriff, still trying to regain his breath, looked to see Blue Jaye, running full speed, stringing Sparrow Hawk with another arrow. Blue Jaye fired again hitting the Baroness in the gut. The Baroness groaned in pain, grasping at her stomach. As Blue Jaye reached the Sherriff, she fired a third shot connecting with Baroness's chest.

The Baroness rolled over in the snow, fighting to breathe. Blue Jaye strung Sparrow Hawk for final shot when the Baroness spun around and raised her right arm, once again exposing her metal arm cuff. However, instead of firing a rocket, the Baroness punched her arm forward, generating a sonic blast from the cuff, knocking Blue Jaye clear off her feet. Rising slowly but hastily, the Baroness turned and limped toward the metal staircase leading to the roof of the radar tower.

Blue Jaye rolled over in the snow grasping at her ears. The world was ringing, and she strained to keep her eyes open. Removing her hands, she saw they were covered in blood. Taking in her surroundings, she saw the Sherriff collapsed in the snow. Her equilibrium was shot, and she tried to stand, but couldn't get to her feet. Pulling herself toward the Sherriff, Blue Jaye crawled until she reached him, throwing her body on top of his.

"Jason! Jason, are you ok?" Blue Jaye cried through the ringing in her ears.

"I'm ok." She saw the Sherriff mouth repeatedly in reply.

Blue Jaye laid on top of him breathing softly. A calm came over her as she pulled her arms around him, sharing her warmth. Looking back toward the radar tower, she saw the Baroness had almost reached the top. Then, something caught her eye by the tree line. It was Flint, sprinting toward the staircase, shotgun in hand. She then looked back toward Oakley, running after Firefly and the Cobra troops advancing on Jinx and Storm Shadow.

Chapter 48

The next battle took only ninety seconds. Oakley raced through the falling snow toward the Cobra troopers who were advancing on the two ninjas. One of the ninjas was an older man, dressed in white silken robes from head to toe. The other ninja was a woman who wore black and yellow stripped snow fatigues. The two just stood there, unmoving. Oakley was about to shout when she saw the female ninja raise her open palm toward her. Then, she put her index finger to her lips.

Oakley skidded to a stop in the snow. She immediately recognized the tactical hand signals to stop and stay silent. The Cobra troops were almost on top of the ninjas, advancing in two-by-two formation. There were only a dozen yards away. Swiftly, Oakley saw the female ninja point to her, then raise her hand in the shape of a gun, and then point to the soldiers running toward them on the right side. Then, she pointed to herself and then to the line of soldiers charging toward on the left.

Oakley closed her left fist and raised it in front of her signaling she understood. She would take out the troops on the right, and the female ninja would take out the soldiers on the left. Easy, Oakley thought to herself, as she spun her guns across her belt reloading.

Running behind the troops on the right, Oakley rose her pistols and fired. Taken completely off guard, the line of soldiers fell into the snow. The cylinders of her pistols spun empty as smoke plumed from the ends of the barrels. She tipped her cap toward the white ninja before veering off.

At the same time, Jinx exploded from her stance, jumping straight up as she threw one sai at the first trooper. Hitting him straight in the goggles, the sai protruded out the front of his skull. Jumping forward again, she flung the other sai, hitting the next soldier right in the forehead. Landing softly on the snow, Jinx unsheathed her katana and charged. Slicing downward in a wood chop, she cut her sword across the next soldier's upper body and torso. She dropped into a squat and slid past the fallen soldier before his chest opened and he crumbled down onto the snow.

Jinx then zig-zagged, ducking down and away from the next round of bullets and leapt, flipping over a trooper, slicing down on top of his head as she soared by. Landing, she continued to advance, crisscrossing her katana in front of her, blocking the bullets that came from the two remaining Cobra troopers.

Reaching into her jacket, she removed two throwing stars and whipped them at the soldiers. One stuck directly into the soldier's face, cutting his goggles in two, while the other tore through the trooper's neck. Swiftly and silently, she veered off before their bodies hit the ground. Deep puddles of blood grew in the snow under the fallen troops.

Only Firefly and Storm Shadow remained, standing silently, facing each other. Firefly swayed side-to-side resting his Uzi on his shoulder. He playfully kicked the snow in front of him with the tips of his steel toed boots. Cocking his head, his gray knit balaclava bobbed obnoxiously as the snow continued to fall.

Storm Shadow patiently swept his right sandal in front of him, making a diagonal line in the snow. Reaching behind him, he unsheathed his katana. Sweeping the tip of the sword downward, he drew another line in the snow, making an "X". The sonic boom from the Baroness's arm cuff reverberated through the air. Firefly instinctually looked back toward the radar tower, providing a window for Storm Shadow to attack.

Hopping silently from side-to-side, Storm Shadow exploded forward, covering at least two thirds of the distance before Firefly turned his attention back toward him. Lowering his Uzi, Firefly gripped it tightly with both hands and let off a string of automatic gunfire. Just like Jinx, Storm Shadow swung his sword in an X-pattern like a baton, blocking the bullets in a flurry of sparks. With his other hand, Storm Shadow reached into his pack and removed a set of throwing stars, flinging them at Firefly. Aiming and firing, Firefly shot the throwing stars out of the sky. Storm Shadow then threw two more, making Firefly spend his bullets on the flying shruiken.

With only a few yards between them, Storm Shadow reached into his pack one last time and removed a pair of throwing darts. Hurling them at Firefly, he simultaneously leapt in the air, gripping his sword with both hands, raising it high above his head. As Firefly shot both darts out of the air Storm Shadow slashed down on Firefly's head.

Dropping to one knee, Firefly held his Uzi above his head defensively. Storm Shadow sliced the gun in two, and Firefly jumped back. Storm Shadow then leapt forward, keeping in step with his enemy. Back peddling, Firefly reached down and removed two Tanto combat knives strapped to his legs. Storm Shadow swung his blade upward, forcing Firefly to block with both knives, keeping the distance between them. Firefly skipped back and flipped one knife over sweeping upward. Storm Shadow parried the assault with a downward swing of his blade. Leaping backward, Storm Shadow made room between them. Sensing the opportunity to strike, Firefly jabbed at Storm Shadow's torso with both knives, working different combinations, waiting for an opening to deliver a fatal strike.

Pressing the attack, Firefly moved forward, but instead of retreating, Storm Shadow stood still, surprising Firefly by grabbing his jacket and head butting him. Firefly dropped his knives as he stumbled back, taken completely off guard. The attack was far from what he expected from a ninja. Storm Shadow advanced again, continuing to confuse Firefly by dropping his sword, and raising his fists like a boxer. Stammering forward, Firefly jumped, and straightened his leg out for a powerful kick. Storm Shadow shifted his weight to his side like he was in the ring, ducking left to dodge the attack.

Storm Shadow then unleashed a furious one-two combo to each side of Firefly's ribs, followed by an upper cut to the chin, left jab to the nose, and a right hook across the side of his face. Absolutely discombobulated, Firefly fell back onto the snow. Screaming in frustration, Firefly clumsily charged again. Instead of using kung-fu, Storm Shadow continued to box him, breaking two of his lower ribs on with another frenzy of body blows. Firefly dropped to his knees holding his side, coughing up blood through his knit mask. Storm Shadow walked to Firefly.

"That was for my brother." Storm Shadow said before kicking Firefly in the face with his sandal, knocking him onto his back.

Storm Shadow stood above his fallen enemy lying sprawled out on the snow. Satisfied with his victory, the old ninja grabbed his sword and started walking toward Jinx and Oakley. After a few strides, Firefly rose silently to his knees holding a grenade in his hand.

Before he could throw it, the grenade exploded, taking off his entire right arm to the elbow. The right side of his camouflage mask tore open as shreds of shrapnel sliced across his face. He howled in pain grasping at his mask, now matted with bloody flesh, pieces of cheek bone exposed. Rising to his feet, he turned and ran, screaming into the forest.

Storm Shadow whipped around back toward Jinx and Oakley. Oakley's right arm was extended, smoke coming out the barrel of her six-shooter. Storm Shadow and Jinx stared at Oakley in shock. The young Texas gunslinger just threw up her hands, giving them an apologetic smile.

Chapter 49

Flint charged up the metal staircase that curled up the outside of the abandoned radar tower. Snow and wind bore down as he bolted up the stairs reloading his shotgun. Firefly's screams echoed behind him but were soon drowned out by the Saturn Industries helicopter that was descending on the roof of the tower. Flint knew he had little time, and he decided that when he reached the top, his first priority was disabling their transport. Then, he would deal with the Baroness and Governor Minh.

Flint bounded up the last few steps as he took in the horizon and rolling mountainside. The storm had cast white clouds over the tips of the Green Mountains standing gray behind the torrent of snow. It was a beautiful backdrop for a final stand.

The Baroness was closing the side door of the helicopter, motioning the pilot to take off. Now, only a few yards away, Flint dove toward the nose of the chopper ducking into a roll and popping up, shooting both barrels at the pilot. The windshield cracked and partially shattered. The pilot's body jerked awkwardly as blood spattered over the inside of the cockpit.

"Anastasia!" Flint howled, reloading his shotgun and walking toward the side of the chopper.

His voice bellowed above the roar of the helicopter blades. A moment past, then the door to the copter opened. The Baroness stepped out and took a few steps toward Flint. Flint raised his shotgun to his waist.

"Please, wait!" The Baroness shouted.

She raised both hands above her head, then slowly moved down to the ruby amulet strung around her neck. Tapping it gently, her chrome mask started to rescind, revealing her face. She was smiling tenderly, and her silver hair flapped in the wind. Flint slowly lowered his shotgun.

"Anastasia! I promise, we can figure this out. We can be together. Isn't that what you want? Isn't that what we both really want?" Flint pleaded.

He dropped his shotgun in the snow and took the Baroness's hands in his. Tears began to flow down the Baroness's soft cheeks. She moved her hands up his arms and touched the side of his face. Leaning in, she kissed him deeply. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her tight. She quietly whispered to him.

"You're right Dash. I do love you. But the only way out for me is in that chopper. I'm sorry." She said.

She kissed him again and after a few moments, Flint reluctantly let go. The Baroness slid her hands down his arms and placed the wooden clothespin in his hand. Smiling at him once more, she turned and walked to the helicopter.

Flint watched as the Baroness moved into the cockpit. Taking the controls, she turned toward Flint one more time and gave him a smile. He then stood and watched as the copter slowly rose above him disappearing into the storm. After few long moments, he silently dropped his head.

The Baroness flew the helicopter across the mountainside until they were a good distance over the lake. Activating the autopilot and the aircraft's hover mode, she unstrapped herself and moved back into the cabin. Deborah was strapped in one of the seats with the S.T.O.R.M. fastened next to her.

Deborah's face was worn with dark circles under her eyes. Her hair hung carelessly around her shoulders and she hugged her midriff, rocking slowly back and forth. As the Baroness approached, she looked up at her franticly.

"Who is flying the helicopter?" She asked alarmed. The Baroness smiled and took a seat in front of her. Leaning forward, she put a hand on her knee.

"Don't worry, we are in hover mode. I just wanted to say congratulations. We have succeeded. And you, you have shown that you are capable of so much more." The Baroness said, pausing before continuing.

"We'll head north across the Canadian border to a safe port in Halifax. There, we will be transported and rendezvous with a Russian vessel which will take us into safe waters. On the boat, you will be briefed by our legal team. They will work to move you to a country which is loyal to Cobra and will provide you asylum until you are ready to return to the States. You will also be generously compensated and given ample resources so you can live comfortably wherever you are." The Baroness stated.

Deborah took everything in. She had stopped swaying, and her arms relaxed around her waist. She nodded at the Baroness and attempted as much of a smile as she could muster. The Baroness slapped her knee gently and stood up.

"Come, it will be better if you sit up with me in the cockpit. Help me move the pilot back here so we can dump him into the lake." The Baroness said.

Deborah flinched at first, not expecting to have to dump a dead body anywhere. However, realizing she didn't have much choice, she reluctantly unbuckled her harness and rose to help. She and the Baroness then dragged the body from the cockpit to the cabin. A streak of blood followed the trooper's boots across the metal floor.

"Slide the door open and I will dump the body." The Baroness requested.

Relieved she didn't have to handle the body anymore, Deborah walked over and slid the door open. A gust of wind and snow poured in. Deborah immediately grasped one of the nylon straps to her right for support. In one swift movement, the Baroness rolled the pilot out the door. Deborah watched his lifeless body splash into the cold water. He floated for a few moments before sinking below the white crests of the splashing waves. Rising, the Baroness walked next to Deborah. She smiled and put her hand on her shoulder.

"Again, I wanted to congratulate you. Exceptional work. Now, there is just one more lesson to learn. One more test." The Baroness stated.

"Test? Test about what?" Deborah asked.

"Deception." The Baroness replied.

Deborah looked down to see the Baroness had a pistol trained at her stomach. Before she could say anything, the gun fired, propelling her back and out of the chopper into the open air. Realizing what had happened after it was too late, Deborah stared at the Baroness as she started to fall. In a final effort, Deborah reached into her jacket pocket and removed the lighter Flint gave her. She clicked the top three times and threw it with all she had. She watched as it flew up and hit the inside roof of the helicopter cabin. The last thing Deborah saw before her world went dark was the shocked expression on the Baroness's face.

Deborah's body tumbled through the gray sky and splashed into the choppy waters. As she hit the lake, the helicopter exploded, debris propelling out in all directions, dark plumes of smoke hovering in the air.

Chapter 50

General Spirit walked down the long corridor of Maine's super max prison toward the interrogation rooms. The walls were a gray cinder, painted off white and lit by large hanging industrial lights. His cowboy boots stomped down the linoleum floor as he held a single manila folder under his right arm. As he reached the steel door at the end of the hall, he removed his smartphone from his goose down jacket and placed its face on the display panel mounted on the wall. The door hissed and swung open.

Two prison guards dressed in tan starched uniforms stood up clumsily, caught off guard by his presence. They stared awkwardly at the General as he held out one of his hands. The closest guard hesitated for a moment before extending his to shake. Spirit nodded and looked at the other guard who was staring at his Bowie knife.

"Gentlemen. Thank you for accommodating me on such short notice." Spirit stated in his low soothing voice.

"Not a problem at all General, Sir." The prison guard replied, letting go of the Generals hand and wiping a few beads of sweat off his forehead.

"The prisoner is ready in room four." The other guard stated, looking up at the general sheepishly. He gestured to the door on the right side of the room.

"Excellent. I won't be more than fifteen minutes." Spirit replied.

Both guards nodded and started walking toward the interrogation room. One opened it and motioned for Spirit to enter. Spirit nodded once more and walked through.

The room was barren, except for a steel table bolted to the floor. Zartan sat in a wheelchair on the far side. His right leg was in a blue cast, propped up, sticking straight out in front of him. He wore an orange prison jumpsuit and his long gray hair fell down his back and shoulders. He smiled happily as Spirit entered the room.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the General himself. To what do I owe this most gracious of visits?" Zartan asked obnoxiously, leaning on the side of the table.

Spirit strode up silently and pulled out the chair in front of him. Sitting down, he removed his black cowboy hat. He then placed the thin manila envelope on the table. Zartan spoke again.

"I've already told Tommy everything I know about the explosion at the dam. If you want anything else, you'll have to go through my legal team." Zartan stated. Spirit narrowed his eyes at Zartan before speaking.

"Five days ago, your daughter Zanya was critically injured in a highway accident south of Lakeside, Vermont. She then kidnapped one of our Agents and set out on a revenge mission against the Baroness and Cobra." Spirit stated.

Zartan leaned back in his wheelchair smiling proudly.

"In the process, she ended up aiding our team in the apprehension of the S.T.O.R.M. device which the Baroness used to manipulate weather patterns, ultimately causing the destruction of Thompson Dam." Spirit continued.

Zartan's expression suddenly changed, and the smile retreated from his face. He looked shocked.

"I used all the resources at my disposal to save her life. She is currently in stable condition and recovering well." Spirit said.

Zartan looked relieved, but curious as to why the General was telling him everything.

"I predict that in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, she will contact you. I am going to offer her a place on a new team I'm putting together. What I am here to ask you today…is your blessing." Spirit finished and leaned back on his seat folding both of his arms across his chest.

Zartan began to laugh. First quietly, and then bursting into a roar. He slapped his hand on the thigh of his good leg and gave out a yelp.

"You've got to be kidding me? Zanya, a Joe?" Zartan asked, continuing to laugh aloud.

Spirit sat unmoving. Silent. After Zartan's howling simmered down, Spirit put his hand on top of the manila envelope and slid it in front of Zartan. Zartan leaned forward and picked it. When he opened it, he gasped, dropping the file. The envelope contained just one photo which slid onto the middle of the table.

The picture was of a boy, maybe five or six years old. He was running in an open field, in what looked like a park. It was a sunny day, and he held a large water gun with both hands. Streams of water shot out the barrel, and the boy's mouth was open in a smile, shouting for joy.

Spirit looked at Zartan who was fixated on the photo. His eyes began to water and looked to Spirit in disbelief.

"Zion's alive?" Zartan asked quietly.

"Yes, no thanks to you obviously. He's been in our care for the past two-and-a-half years. He is safe, healthy, and clearly a happy child." Spirit replied.

"Does Zanya know?" Zartan asked.

"No, not yet. But if things all work out, the goal is to reunite them." Spirit stated.

Zartan grabbed the picture and held it up, whispering to himself.

"Zanya, a Joe?" He trailed off.

"Can I keep this picture?" Zartan asked.

"It's all yours." Spirit replied, before putting his cowboy hat back on and walking out the room.

Chapter 51

Two Months later.

Blue Jaye sat alone at the conference room table in the Lakeside Police Department. It had been two months since the dam broke, and the people of Lakeside were finally getting back into their daily routines. The state had decided to rebuild on the shores of the newly formed Riverbury lake, and they were working on constructing houses for residents who had been displaced. Blue Jaye looked down at the day's newspaper on the table in front of her. The headline read, Saturn Industries: Assassination and Sabotage, by Jessie Kingsley and Elise Jensen.

When Blue Jaye joined the Joes, she made Spirit promise he would allow her to follow her initial goal of being a journalist. True to his word, Spirit allowed Blue Jaye and Cricket publish the story, with certain facts omitted. Most all of the national news stations and newspapers picked it up.

The article revealed Saturn Industries involvement in the assassination of Sherriff Douglas, the destruction of Thompson Dam, and the manipulation and death of former Governor, Deborah Minh. Even though they had yet to find Deborah and the Baroness's bodies, both were pronounced dead. The story also uncovered the continued history of Cobra in Vermont and stated that the government had established a team that would be permanently stationed in the area.

The door to the conference room opened and Cricket walked through, smiling at Blue Jaye. She had always known they would get back together, but she never thought it would be like this. Cricket walked over and sat next to Blue Jaye. Placing her crutches to her side, Blue Jaye stared, still amazed Elise could walk.

"Any idea why Spirit asked us all here to meet?" Cricket asked.

"You're the Communications Officer? You don't know?" Blue Jaye replied jokingly.

"Ha, ha. Actually, I tried, but Breaker wouldn't tell me." Cricket said laughing.

"I'm thinking it's about our next assignment." Blue Jaye said. Cricket nodded in agreement.

"Me too. I just hope we get to work together." Cricket added, putting a hand on Blue Jaye's shoulder.

"Me too." Blue Jaye replied, smiling.

Just then the door opened, and Oakley burst in. She tipped her Stetson hat and plopped herself down in one of the chairs on the other side of the table. Throwing her boots up, she unbuttoned her leather jacket and smiled.

"Y'all thinking we're gonna to get our next assignment?" Oakley asked in her deep southern drawl.

"That's what we were just talking about. We're hoping we'll all be able to work together." Cricket replied.

"I would think so if we're all here now. I just hope it's someplace with some action." Oakley stated, raising both her eyebrows and giving a one-sided smile.

Cricket laughed lightly. She never thought she would work, or even be friends with someone like Oakley, but they had grown close over the past months. Spirit had given them some R&R up in Lakeside, and Cricket and Blue Jaye had fun taking Oakley to their favorite places they used to go when they were at the University together. Oakley took to Vermont right away. Being the middle of winter, they first went to Smuggs Mountain to ski. Oakley spent more time on her butt than on skis but she took to it quickly and had since found another home on the slopes.

The door opened again, and General Spirit walked through. Sherriff Smith trailed behind him and they both took a seat at the table. Spirit set his cowboy hat on his lap and leaned back in his chair folding his large forearms across his chest. Oakley quickly removed her Stetson and placed it on the table. Spirit took in everyone in the room and smiled.

"I'm sure you know why you're all here." Spirit stated, as he reached down grabbing a stack of manila folders.

He tossed one in front of Oakley, Cricket, Blue Jaye, and the Sherriff. They started to open the folders as Spirit continued.

"Before I start, I want to congratulate you all. We were able to retrieve the drive from the S.T.O.R.M. and Saturn is retreating with their tail between their legs.

"What about the Baroness?" The Sherriff questioned.

"And Deborah Minh?" Blue Jaye added.

"And Firefly?" Oakley asked.

Spirit looked around the room and took a deep breath before speaking.

"We are continuing to search the lake, but we have found no trace of the Baroness or Deborah Minh. We haven't located Firefly either, but with his resourcefulness, I am sure he is long gone by now." Spirit stated.

"So is our assignment to track them down?" Oakley asked eagerly. Spirit shook his head no.

"No. We will deal with them if, and when they decide to pop back up on the radar. The current priority is Lakeside, Vermont." Spirit looked at Oakley as he responded.

"You are all well aware of the incident that happened here two years ago, and with the events that have just occurred, there is no way I am leaving this place unguarded. Also, with all the recent Cobra activity uncovered in this area, I am sure we haven't seen the last of them either." Spirit continued, giving Oakley a wink.

"So, here's your assignment. The five of you will be stationed here in Lakeside. You will be responsible for investigating and monitoring all past and present Cobra activities. You will be headquartered in the abandoned radar station we recently acquired and are currently renovating." Spirit paused and then looked directly at Sherriff Smith.

"Sherriff Smith, you will retain your title and position as Sherriff of Lakeside, Vermont, but you will officially be a G.I. Joe agent. To make things easier, your code name will simply be, The Sherriff. In the event where we need you to move outside your duties here at Lakeside, Deputy Sherriff Sampson will take over your local responsibilities. Your assignment will be to maintain local law and order, and work with team leader Blue Jaye to prioritize resources." Spirit stated and then looked at Blue Jaye.

"Agent Blue Jaye. You are the team leader. Your decision making and quick thinking in the field, make you a natural. You will be stationed at the radar station and will communicate with us back in DC. Your assignment is to facilitate the ongoing investigation and exploration of the Cobra bunkers, caves, and mine shafts. I suspect there is plenty we have yet to uncover." Spirit said, turning his attention to Cricket.

"Cricket, you will be the team's Communications Officer. You will be responsible for funneling all communication from your team to Captain Breaker in DC, and vice versa. You will also be responsible for fitting your team with gear and equipment so they will succeed in the field." Spirit said, then looking at Oakley.

"Agent Oakley. You will be the team's Combat Officer. You will be responsible for strategizing combat scenarios and taking the front lines when needed. You will report directly to Blue Jaye. I know there will be no immediate action, but Lakeside has been a hot bed for recent Cobra activity, so I am sure you won't be bored. Your father would be very proud." Spirit replied, nodding and smiling at Oakley. She returned a smile and her eyes began to water.

"Any questions?" Spirit asked, looking around the room. Blue Jaye held up her hand. Spirit pointed for her to speak.

"Are you the Senior Officer we will report to?" Blue Jaye asked.

"No, General Beachhead will be your direct report." Spirit replied.

"Not Flint?" The Sherriff asked.

"No, Flint is partially retired. I asked, but he has experienced more than enough combat in his lifetime. He does wish you the best of luck and as always, will be available to support you however else you need. Any more questions?" Spirit asked. Blue Jaye raised her hand again.

"You said the five of us. But there are only four of us here." Blue Jaye stated.

Spirit smiled and slowly rose to his feet.

"Yes, your Intelligence Officer. She is right outside. Before I let her in, I wanted to address you all first. I have assigned her to this team and that is a direct order. She is responsible for all covert intelligence, infiltration, and is highly trained in silent combat. You will be responsible to work with her and welcome her as a trusting member of this team. Do you all understand?" Spirit stated, looking everyone seriously.

They all nodded slowly, not sure who Spirit was referring to. Spirit then walked over to the door and opened it, letting the person waiting outside know it was time to come in. As Spirit stepped away, Zanya walked through the doorway.

Her hair was tightly braided in four rows that ran down the back of her head. She wore her black leather jacket and a pair of blue jeans. Cricket looked down at her right hand and saw it was completely mechanical. The hand was made with jointed carbon steel, reinforced with titanium. Nervously, she pulled out a chair and took a seat.

"I'd like to introduce you to your Intelligence Officer, Zanya." Spirit stated.

For a few moments, no one spoke. Then, Oakley slapped her hand on the table and gave out a loud shout.

"If that ain't sweeter than stolen honey I don't know what is!" She exclaimed.

Chapter 52

General Spirit trudged through up the snowy mountainside just outside of Lakeside. The sky was clear blue, and the sun glistened on the ground. Small clumps of snow fell intermittently off the trees lining the forest floor. Spirit came to a small clearing that opened up around him. At the far end of the field was Flint's small wooden cabin nestled in a corner of the tree line.

Spirit continued across the field cutting a path through the untouched snow. He frowned at the lack of smoke coming from cabin's the small chimney. When he reached the door, Spirit noticed there was at least two feet of snow blocking the entryway. Making his way to the door, he reached over and knocked. After a few moments of silence, he knocked again. Only the caws of the crows perched in the trees above him replied. Spirit looked down at the doorknob and saw a deadbolt with an electronic touchpad. Removing one of his mittens, he entered his code and the door unlocked and popped open.

Walking into the dimly lit cabin, Spirit adjusted his eyes to the darkness. He looked to the wood burning stove which was cold and empty. Everything seemed in order, the pots and pans on the wall, the food on the shelves, but the place seemed abandoned.

Spirit walked over to the far right of the cabin and opened one of the dresser drawers. A line of shirt, socks, and boxers were neatly stacked. He opened the next drawer and found Flint's pants. There is too much room, Spirit thought to himself. Decades of folding clothes in the same military fashion told Spirit that the top layer of Flint's wardrobe was missing. Spirit closed the drawer and moved to Flint's bookshelf. He stared at the rows of mystery novels, fishing and hunting guides, and war history books, searching for the few titles he knew Flint would take with him wherever he went. They were gone.

Finally, Spirit walked over to the small writing desk by the window on the right side of the cabin. On the table stood a framed picture of Flint, dressed in a large turkey outfit, next to Father McCabe. It was from the most recent Thanksgiving Day celebration at the University Way Cathedral. Spirit chuckled to himself as he turned his attention to a postcard and Flint's old flip phone that were resting below the photo. The postcard was of Gaudí's Park Güell in Barcelona, Spain. The back of the card was completely blank. Spirit looked long and hard at the postcard. He picked up Flint's phone and let out a long sigh before placing them both in his jacket.

From his other jacket pocket, Spirit removed a small black velvet case. He carefully opened it and smiled. Inside, was a polished General's star. Spirit gently placed the open case on the desk and turned to leave. Before he left, he whispered softly in the cabin.

"It will be here when you get back my friend. Live it up. You deserve it." Spirit said as he left, locking the cabin door behind him.

Flint slept the entire bus ride to the Pyrenees National Park, 180 miles northeast of Pamplona, Spain. As the bus came to a stop, he got off and waited for the driver to unlatch the snowshoes, skis, and poles he had purchased earlier in Madrid. Looking up, the sky was a clear blue, except for the faintest line of white clouds stretching thin across the horizon. The spiked peaks of the Pyrenees, which cut the border between France and Spain, towered above him. Flint strapped the snowshoes and skis to his pack and started his ascent.

The first half of the climb was a low impact, steady incline up a wide trail that gradually rose for ten miles. The snow was packed down which made the hike comfortable and easy. With years of snowshoeing experience, Flint moved at an efficient pace, passing other hikers often. The final half mile of the journey required more advanced climbing skills, traversing over two steep inclines and drop-offs. Flint easily made his way past the obstacles toward a large wooden lodge that sat in the snow above him.

The A-framed lodge rose close to seventy feet high and had a long open porch that stretched the length of its front end. Tall wooden beams climbed up its face across a large set of windows rising the full length of the structure. Flint saw people leaning on the edge of the porch railing, holding warm mugs, taking in the sunset.

He had made it to mid-camp just as he hoped, and before he went into the lodge, he leaned against the railing and watched the orange and red glow as it splashed over the mountains around him. It had been years since he watched that same sunset and he did not want to miss it.

The lodge consisted of two floors. The first was open, with a cafeteria style kitchen to the left and a large wooden fireplace in the middle. An immense stone hearth twisted up to the bedrooms and bunks on the second floor. Rows of tables and chairs lined the right side of the lodge full of people eating, drinking, and conversing.

The entire trip had exhausted him and at that moment, all he wanted was food and sleep. Heading over to the cafeteria, Flint grabbed a large bowl and handed it to a Señora wearing a yellow flower-patterned apron. She heaved a large spoonful of red stew in the bowl and placed it on a tray with half a baguette and handed it back to him. Flint then grabbed a cold bottle of beer, found a table, and dug in.

The soup was tomato based with stewed chicken, peppers, onions, and carrots, over a light fluffy rice. Flint stuffed the warming comfort food into his mouth until he had finished and polished off the beer. Happily stuffed, Flint took in the darkening valley one last time, before heading up to the second floor, finding an open bed and falling fast asleep.

Waking up early the next morning Flint headed down to the cafeteria for a small pastry and a coffee con leche. He took in the rising sun at is glimmered across the peaks protruding from the snow. Grabbing two tortilla sandwiches, Flint filled up his canteen, strapped on his pack, and headed back up the mountain for the final ascent.

The second day of hiking brought Flint up a string of rising valleys, past the tree line and to a field of snow which stretched to the mountain peak. Snowshoeing across, the snow yielded to rockface. Removing his snowshoes Flint latched them to his backpack and began the steady climb to the top. When he reached the peak, he took in the view of the mountains stretching out in front of him as the valley sloped down to the snowy countryside below.

Flint removed his pack and unlatched his skis. Strapping himself in, he took off down the mountainside. Digging the sides of the blades and shifting his weight from side-to-side, Flint worked his way down past the rockface and back under the tree line. As the valley opened up, a large reservoir greeted Flint as he raced past. The water was pure blue, shining up at the sky against the stark backdrop of the mountain rising around it. Flint coasted by a trail marker indicating the small town of Sucret was a kilometer away.

Sucret was a small village nestled in the mountainside that catered to skiers and hikers. Seemingly untouched by time, its bathhouses, cafes, and quaint lodging, had attracted a steady band of regulars for hundreds of years. Flint skidded to a stop as the trail turned into a small road that led to town.

Removing his skis and strapping them to his pack, Flint walked down into the village. The streets were filled with small Dutch-style houses and at the center was a stone fountain. The sculpted seraphim that stood in the middle was covered in snow. Flint walked to the far end of the town past a line of cafes into a residential area consisting of narrow tightly fitted houses.

Walking up to one of the indistinct doors, Flint knocked lightly. After a few long moments, the door opened, and the Baroness stepped out into the doorway. Her silver hair was tied uncaringly above her head and she wore an oversized gray woolen sweater with a relaxed pair of blue jeans. Smilingly wide, she took Flint's hands in hers and leaned in and gave him a long, deep kiss. She pulled a few inches back and put her hand on his face.

"So, Dash, what happens next?" The Baroness asked.

"Whatever we want." Flint replied, as he pulled her in for another embrace.

Epilogue

Deborah's eyes fluttered open as her world slowly came back into focus. She breathed in deep, but her throat seared in pain. Instinctually, she tried to get up, but couldn't. Looking down at her legs, one was propped up in a sling, with an open cast and pins protruding from her knee and ankle.

She tried to call for help but could only muster a faint whisper. Her throat was burning, and she craved water. Realizing she was beginning to panic, she tried to calm her breathing and started taking in her surroundings. She closed her eyes trying to think of the last thing she could remember. The vision of her falling as the Baroness stared at her came back. She opened her eyes and started to cry.

I'm alive, she thought gratefully. With that thought, she looked around the room to see if she recognized anything. After surveying her surroundings, Deborah realized that even though she was in a hospital bed, she was not in a hospital. Instead, it looked like she was in some sort of medical tent. It was also hot. Like summer hot, Deborah thought to herself.

Outside the tent she heard a vehicle engine in the distance. It sounded like a truck. Multiple trucks. She tried to focus on any other sounds coming from the outside the tent. Listening intently, she heard voices. People talking, walking close by. She tried to make out what they were saying but they weren't speaking English. It sounded Arabic.

Confused, Deborah started to get scared, and looked around to see if she could get herself out of bed. Suddenly, the door flap swung open and two women dressed in niqabs rushed in. Racing up to her, they began speaking quietly to each other under their garbs. One of them started checking the monitors next to her, while the other was probing her dressings.

"Water. Please. Water." Deborah managed to whisper to the nurses.

Immediately, they stopped what they were doing and turned to face her. They frantically started talking to one another and then stopped abruptly and stared in silence. They don't understand me, Deborah thought to herself.

"Please. Water. I'm so thirsty." She said again.

Without a sound, the two nurses turned and quickly walked out of the tent. Even though they were gone for only a few minutes, it seemed like an hour until they returned with a pitcher of water and a glass. A large man walked in behind them and stood at the foot of Debra's bed. He waited until they gave her a cup of water. The water was cold, painful, and refreshing as it went down. She drank three full glasses before the dryness in her throat begin to subside. She looked at the man standing in the tent in front of her.

He stood a little over six feet tall and was wearing black tactical pants and boots. His right arm was slung around his shoulder, amputated at the elbow. The tip of his bandages were dabbed in red splotches. His entire face was wrapped as well, leaving only room for his eyes, nose, and mouth. He gurgled as he breathed.

"It's ok. There is no reason to be alarmed." The man spoke. "We are here to help you in any way we can. Take your time getting your strength back. Once you are fully recuperated, we can then begin to plan." He said.

"Plan? Plan for what?" Deborah asked, a little confused.

"Revenge, Commander Minh. Revenge." Firefly replied.

Acknowledgements

First of all, thank you for reading this story. I hope that you enjoyed it. I also want to thank my friends, wife, son, and cat for bearing with me for this second book and helping me with their support. I also want to thank my feedback editor Sarah. It was fun following these characters again. I do plan on writing another installment if people like this one, but they take a while to write, so I am thinking late 2020, early 2021. Also, all of the people, places, and events have been fictionalized based on my life growing up in New England and Vermont. Enjoy!

Agent Blue Jaye and her team will be back with old and new Joe and Cobra Agents in G.I. Joe, Agent Blue Jaye and the Blood of Serpentor