Prologue

Isaac squirmed in his chair. The former soldier looked at distant shadows in the room with him. Their hands were cradling a host of deadly tools. No doubt they were figuring out how to recommence the torture. Blood dripped down his forehead and off his head, forming a small puddle on the floor. His arms were no better. Apparently drills were the new 'in' thing with torturers these days. As if that wasn't enough, firearms had been brought into the occasion once. His right leg twitched in pain, a fresh bullet wound right where his knee cap used to be. Isaac struggled with the binds holding him to the leather chair. They were too tight and the sound he made only alerted the shadows to his presence. Great, Isaac thought. Round three was about to commence. Or was it five?

The shadows stepped out into the light to reveal themselves. One of them wielded a huge knife and a set of brass knuckles over his left hand. The other had brought out a syringe. This again? Isaac remembered the last time they did this. He couldn't stop blabbering about how he had figuratively spent time with their mothers. Their stunned looks was just about worth the two drills they stuck in his arms afterwards. The first one opened his mouth and Isaac turned away. The stench was horrendous. Who cleaned his mouth?

" . We've been at this for a few days now. Do you wish to talk?"

"Would you ladies remind me what it is you want? I seemed to have forgotten what with all the blood I've lost." Isaac tried hard to suppress his grin. He did not give them satisfaction. Why start now?

"We wish to know the location of the safe house you're using to store the part. Our employers grow restless with every passing day and your resistance is not helping loosen the noose around our necks." He seemed fearful, almost afraid of what retribution he may face for this.

"I don't know what you're talking. I've been saying this for the past few days. Are you people deaf? Now, can we get on with today's regimen please? I'm feeling slightly perky for some gruel after this." Isaac was not giving up. The interrogator knew this. They had tried everything from waterboarding, drugs, physical torture and even at one point, using cable wires connected to a car battery. The other man looked worried too. If not for the sweat starting to form around his neck, his comrade would thought he was alone in this. Now, he had one more card to play.

"No, I'm afraid not. I believe the fact you would outlast any form of punishment we could possibly inflict. Geron, please take these and put them on the tray. I have no need for them today. His surbodinate grunted and yanked the tools from his colleague's palms. He stepped out, closing the door behind him.

"Now that we're alone, would you like to hear a story?"

"No, thanks. I've already slept." Isaac demonstrated this by yawning loudly into the interrogator's face. The man was not pleased by any stretch of the word. He wiped the saliva from his glasses with a towel, setting it down on a cabinet nearby.

"I believe you will wish to hear this story. It is of importance to you, I'm sure of it."

"Spit it out then. I haven't got all day" Isaac spoke as he wallowed in the irony.

"There was once a man who believed that he was the savior of his home. In reality, he was a psychotic killer who has engineered the mass slaughter of enough souls to even put a number to it. Such a man should not exist. One day, he left his home to explore and he ended up being caught. While the good doctor wanted to put him out of his misery, he was told of the location of the man's family. And the killer told him everything. The end." The man paused, taking the look on Isaac's face. The tortured soul sitting in the hair before looked at him in horror and disbelief. He would not believe.

"Is it not a good story? I thought it was. You see, Isaac? Winners write history. Not you. Now tell me where the safe house is or your precious 'family' shall be drawn and quartered right in front of you.

Isaac did not answer. In those few minutes there, his mind overflowed with information he didn't want. He had to leave now. He wasn't going to take the risk that the man was lying to him. He just couldn't. Isaac formulated a plan in his head. It took all of two minutes before he set it in motion.

"Can I have a drink please? Before I tell you. I don't want to die of thirst in the middle of my story." He said to his interrogator. The man did not think it odd. After all, he had finally broken him. The noose around his neck was gone. He smiled, nodded to his prisoner and walked towards the sink. He reached for a small glass and poured in some clear liquid in addition to the water. Just in case, he thought. He promptly turned around.

That thought was the last mental task his brain would perform before his neck was sliced open in a heartbeat. Blood gushed out of the wound and stained his coat. The man clutched his neck and his eyes made contact with the figure standing above him, wielding the very same knife he had used on his prisoner multiple times. With a gurgle, the interrogator wheezed his last breath and collapsed onto the floor, his eyes rolled back into his skull. Isaac stood triumphant over the man. Now to get out of here.

That plan was derailed when the double doors burst open to reveal Geron holding a stun baton in his right hand and a Swiss Army knife in the other. Isaac raised his own weapon and faced his opponent. They circled each other for several moments before Geron made his move. He lunged with his knife and tried to score a direct hit. Isaac narrowly missed the attack, dodging it with only seconds to spare. Isaac readied himself yet again and focused. Every second he wasted here was another second that security would have to close in on him. Isaac dove underneath as Geron made his move with the baton. Sneaking behind him, he plunged the knife into Geron's back. The man cried in pain but did not go down. All he did was turn around and swing his knife at Isaac. Isaac dodged it yet again and stared in disbelief as Geron recovered and readied himself for another attack. How was he still fighting with a knife up his spine?

That thought was put on hold as Geron lunged once again. He missed and instead broke a couple of test tubes, the glass scattering the floor. Isaac had the unfortunate luck to step into it and he paid for it. He dropped to the ground in pain, clutching his feet and desperately attempting to remove the shards embedded in his skin. Geron did not wait and went in for the kill. Isaac felt time slow down as he rolled out of the way and heard Geron curse as the blade clattered harmlessly against the solid ground. Isaac saw an opportunity and plucked his knife out of Geron. The man screamed in agony and turned around. Isaac waited for his face to show before backing up against the wall. Without a moment to lose, he threw the knife. Time once again slowed down for him and he saw the knife hit dead center in the middle of Geron's eyes. The man went down like a sack of potatoes and slumped to the floor. The room was a mess. Two bodies, a floor literally covered in blood and broken equipment tossed all around. Isaac slumped against the wall and cried. He sat there and stared at the carnage around him, his tear-stained eyes struggling to stay open. After what seemed like eternity, Isaac finally found the strength to get up and walk to the door. He pushed it open and shambled out. His blood soaked footsteps left a trail in his wake but he couldn't care less. All he wanted was to leave. The hallways were empty now, like a ghost town. The only sounds that could be heard was the labored breathing of his own lungs and the cool rush of air that would fill the room from time to time.

The air! Isaac realized that he was near the exit. Eagerly, he attempted to sprint, only to remember that his leg was injured and he was in no condition to run. Wincing with pain, he slowly climbed up the staircase at the end of the hall, clutching the railing for support. The light in his eyes started to blur and his vision began to darken. He was losing blood fast and Isaac saw no way out this time. He usually would have accepted that once. It was a common occurrence with them. Ever since that day, he's always woken up and removed his All-Purpose Magnum from his leather box. He would chamber a round into it and spin the cylinder like a game of Russian roulette. A chance to die at last. Every time, it was either one of two things. Either he lost his nerves and toss the gun aside or pull the trigger only for the gun to click. He could have kept on going until he fired it but his nerves would usually get the better of him. Fate was playing a cruel game with him, toying with him every step of the way. He would often at times scream at the sky for no particular reason just to curse fate for keeping him alive.

Now, he had a purpose. A plan. He reached the next floor before his legs finally collapsed under the strain and he fell down. Refusing to give in, he crawled using his hands hoping to conserve what little stamina his legs still possessed. With difficulty, he reached a nearby room close to the exit and opened the door. Barricading the door behind him, Isaac pulled himself back to his feet. His eyes darted around the room, looking for anything useful. And that was when his eyes laid upon a leather box. A familiar leather box. He ambled slowly towards it, its aura drawing him in. His hands fumbled with the lid. It was surprising he could still do so in his condition. There it was, Isaac mumbled to himself. His trusty sidearm. His friend in a firefight. The APM.

It was an ingenious little device, designed by Isaac himself when he watched combat teams in Europe. They always had too much gear. Smoke grenades, fragmentation grenades, flares, grappling hooks and more. So he sat down and decided to simplify all that into a one handy, portable and efficient gun. By no means a small feat, the platinum plated revolver could do pretty much anything. Its specialized ammo included the aforementioned smoke rounds, high explosive rounds and even a round which extended into a javelin in mid air, perfect for impaling enemies to the wall. At the time of his capture, Isaac had ideas for a prototype round. One which put all others to shame. To his surprise, a single round just as he imagined sat there right next to the revolver. No doubt they were going to test it. Grinning sheepishly, he loaded the bullet into the cylinder. Time to turn the tables on them.

Isaac opened the door slightly, pointing the business end of his revolver down the corridor. Satisfied, he walked out. Still wary, he walked out to the exit and breathed in the fresh air. Ah, what he would do to enjoy the moment for just a second longer. A distinct click clack sound behind was warning enough that the danger had not passed. Isaac calmly turned around and saw to his dismay a pack of armed men in white armor with gold linings adorning his piece. The symbol on their shoulder pieces was that of a golden phoenix, surrounded by flames also made from gold. A man in a white laced suit walked up to the front of the crowd. Isaac knew who it was the minute he stepped forward. The bald head. The menacing pale green eyes. The robes that screamed holy priest. The miniature golden phoenix he wore around his neck like a lucky charm and grey veins visible on his arms.

"Father Phoenix. Or as most people on my home call you, Archer Holden." Isaac kept his revolver hidden from sight. They didn't need to know he was packing. He stared swords at the priest. Archer Holden was no friend of his world but not much of an enemy either since Isaac. Isaac bit his lip. The guy controls the White Phoenix, he thought to himself. If even a quarter of the stories about him are true then the guy in front of him was in command of an army of lunatics and psychos all devoted to 'God's plan." Isaac gripped his weapon even tighter.

"I prefer Father Phoenix if you do not mind. I believe you were thinking of leaving."

"I thought I'd get out a bit. Travel. See the world? Know anyplace I could do that?" Isaac was stalling for time, waiting for the right moment. He knew that. Problem is, so did the good priest and he is not the slightest bit amused.

"Why do you continue to resist us? Surrender the part and we will let you free. This does not need to end with such violence." He said with no attempt to disguise the venom or malice that dripped from his mouth with every word.

"Not happening. If you're going to kill me, do it already."

"Oh, I'm afraid that is simply not possible. We need you alive to recover the part. After all, you didn't just hide it away. Did you?"

"You know what they say. Magicians don't tell their secrets."

"Pity. I hoped to convince you but it appears more brute force tactics will be required." Father Phoenix whipped out a weird-looking device and passed it along to one of his lieutenants. "Enjoy my little present, Mr. Eisenhower. Come, let us leave." With that, Archer walked away and disappeared into the facility, leaving Isaac to the mercy of ten soldiers. Isaac was screwed either way. He was reputed with being a world-class fighter and known for his success against the odds. This though was pushing it a bit too hard. Here he was, facing down 11 guys counting the lieutenant with one round. Granted, the round was quite powerful but not when the troops were too scattered apart to take them down with one shot. The lieutenant brought the device a little closer and Isaac took a glimpse at it. The device was just simply alien, its purple glow oozing with energy. Isaac made a guess that their masters had relinquished a stasis prison for their use. He didn't know nor did he really care. All that mattered was getting out of this alive.

"Can't I convince any of you fine gentlemen to let me go?" Silence. "No? Last call?" Still nothing. Crap, plan B it is. "Alright then, you had your chance." Isaac whipped out his revolver and took aim at the device. The world paused at that moment. Beads of sweat and blood mixed together and rolled down Isaac's left cheek. The guards all fired their weapons but Isaac only saw muzzle flashes and the ringing sound in his ears. His eyes squinted and his finger curled intimately around the trigger. In a split second, he was either going to die or live by some miracle. He hoped for neither. The trigger was pulled, the hammer crashing down on the firing pin and the bullet was ejected with full force from the barrel.

The bullet whizzed past, leaving a trail of smoke behind it. All around it, the white-clad soldiers kept firing at the shooter not even gazing at the bullet. Only one of them was looking. The lieutenant gasped in horror and reached for the device to push it out of harm's way. No such luck as the bullet hit the device. In that split second, the man saw the bullet. Adorned on the side was the tell-tale mark of a nuclear symbol. Swearing the day they decided that continuing that hare-brained project, the lieutenant and his men vanished in a mushroom cloud and they existed no more save for scraps of cloth and bits of skin.

Isaac grimaced as the bullet detonated in front of him. He covered his eyes from the searing light and heat with his hands. And then it was over. He stood there on the plateau, glad that he had escaped without a single scratch. Suddenly, the device started to crack. He knew it would survive the initial blast. There was no doubt about it. It was what happened next that terrified him. The device started to crack, its carbon weaving breaking down and the element contained within became increasingly unstable. Isaac had no warning, only a howl as the crystalline material shattered into fragments. In its place was a black hole which began drawing everything from grass, loose soil and Isaac into it.

Isaac tried to hold on, grabbing hold of a pine tree nearby. This was nothing but wishful thinking as the roots of the trees started to uproot and get sucked in into the empty black void. Isaac still clung on to dear life. He did not survive all that to die in the vacuum of space. Fate played its hand and Isaac lost, the only voice heard the last scream the beleaguered 'savior' would ever make. As quickly as it appeared, the black hole vanished. Archer Holden returned to oversee the chaos with a team. All he saw was a ruined garden, no sign of Isaac and the device all but utterly destroyed save a few pieces of metal. The noose around the interrogator before started to tighten around Archer. His masters would not be pleased at this latest development. Fuming, he angrily pushed aside the soldiers and went back to his office in order to prepare for the inevitable.

It was weird floating in there. It felt like the end, the afterlife. Yet, the afterlife looked a bit too purple for Isaac's tastes. He groaned when he felt more pain shoot into his leg. Isaac closed his eyes, hoping that whatever fate awaited him on the other side that it was quick and painless. His mind flashed back to better, happier times. Of his family enjoying their vacation. Of him and his brother laughing when their father tripped and fell into the pool. Of his sister who he had welcomed into their family with tears of joy. What he would give to return to those days. He drifted into nothingness, blood still pouring from his multiple injuries. Isaac's body floated in the wormhole for days on end. Time passed and Isaac still floated like a feather in the wind.

Isaac could not open his eyes. Come to think of it, he could not even move. Was… Was he dead? Did it finally happen? Isaac was elated. His time was at an end. A voice brought those dreams crashing to reality. Isaac realized he was just unconscious yet his mind was still functioning. With nothing better to do, he did the only thing he could do in that state.

"Doc, how bad is it?" It was gruff, commanding, a man who took charge. Isaac did not pass judgment. He would save it for later.

"Blood pressure's dangerously low. Multiple injuries. Broken bones. Major blood loss. The guy's got it all." He didn't recognize the voice. It was female and that's all she wrote.

"Considering we found him on that hellish planet, it's not a big surprise. Chalk another one she's gonna fell guilty about.

"Do you wish for me to check on her? We have no idea what the artifact does and whether or not she…"

"Don't say it, doc. She'll be fine. She always was a tough one."

"Four years as that thing would break even the strongest person alive. I understand your concern and where it's coming from. I just suggest we keep a close eye on her."

"Done. Once that's done however, attend to this guy. He won't last long like this."

"As you wish, Captain."

The next words were ones Isaac did not know. He knew something was up. He knew he wasn't home anymore. Isaac would have curled in fear if he wasn't paralyzed.

"It's Jim. Enough with the formalities, Ms. Hanson."

Isaac wasn't in Texas no more. He was all alone once again.