The author acknowledges that the names, concepts, and descriptions of the
characters depicted here are owned by DC Comics, soon to be an AOL/Time/Warner
company and that said owners retains complete rights to said character. These
concepts are used WITHOUT permission for NO PROFIT, but rather a strong desire
to tell my own tales about a few of the many characters I've enjoyed over the
years. This also acknowledges that original concepts presented here are the
intellectual property of the author.
That said, I submit the following for your approval...
***************
THEN...
The hunter knew he was going to die.
He had known it from the moment they arrived and descended into mountain. He
knew it as he and his companions battled across the complex in a maddening dance
of motion and blood.
They had started out as a party of four and almost immediately lost one of their
number to a sniper's bullet as he stepped from their plane. The hunter watched
the gunsmith fall onto the ground and scrambled to his side. His other
companions dove for cover as bullets continued to bite into the earth around
them; each harsh whine and thump bringing them all a step closer to death.
He knew he was going to die. He was ready for it, welcomed it...
...but not now. Not yet. The hunter still had to avenge himself on these
ghouls who snatched him from the peace he had found. He had to live a little
while longer and end this nightmare once and for all.
The hunter was still formulating his plan of attack when the guns suddenly fell
silent. It was an action that heralded the arrival of the man they turned away,
the man who didn't kill. The dark man who was considered a force of nature in
his own urban jungle, but was only a liability in this, a "killing mission".
Despite their refusal, the dark man had managed to follow them to this secret
place where they would fight this final battle. The dark man had proved that
his methods were as effective as their own and asked to help.
The dark man had his own score to settle, he was there to avenge the death of a
friend, and was going to proceed with or without their aid.
The hunter considered the dark man's request, a quick decision was made and they
were four once again as they descended into the den of their common foe.
The hunter had allowed his mentor to lead the way into the enemy's stronghold;
it seemed the best plan given his mentor's experience and time there. He
followed behind his mentor with the dark man at his back and bringing up the
rear was the woman. The hunter was tempted to think of her as "his" woman after
all they had shared and been through together; but it wasn't something he'd give
into, it would only be an illusion.
A pleasant illusion, but an illusion nonetheless.
A lie like the rest of his second life had been.
The hunter was tired of the lies, the bloodshed and the violence. He wanted to
rest. He wanted peace. He wanted it to be over.
The hunter was ready to die.
They had met resistance from the moment they breached the main plaza. Each
struck in his or her fashion and cleared the field of most of their opponents in
seconds.
For a moment the battle was joined by the hunter's replacement, an enforcer who
lacked the principles the hunter held dear. The enforcer was also the man who
had killed the dark man's friend and defeated the dark man in an earlier battle
half a world away. The enforcer tried to stop the hunter's assault, but the
dark man stepped in to clear the way and avenge his friend's death. Oddly
enough, the enforcer turned out to be his friend and the man who died half a
world away was a substitute meant to cover the enforcer's defection to the side
of the hunter's enemies.
The mentor fought incredible odds and provided a distraction as the hunter and
the woman raced for the ladder that would take them to the access hatch above
their common enemy's inner sanctum.
The hunter and the woman paused long enough to make certain of the final phase
of their plans. There were dozens of things they could have said. Time enough
for some last gesture of what they may have felt. The woman's mask slipped
slightly as she repeated his instructions. She protested for just a moment, she
was ready to go into the final battle with him and if need be, die with him.
He wouldn't allow that, they both knew that this was one battle he had to face
alone.
He never looked at her as they stood above the access hatch. He simply reminded
her of her mission and that he was depending on her to carry it out, regardless
of what happened to him.
On some level he knew this was the last time they'd be together, his last chance
to walk away and take her with him. Instead he steeled himself, and emptied his
mind of anything other than carrying out his part of the mission.
This was his chance to finally end this thing once and for all.
This was his chance to regain peace once more.
It was time for him to reclaim everything that made his life special.
As he dropped through the hatch, he knew this time would be the last time, the
last fight, his final hunt.
Everything happened quickly then. The confrontation with the old man who had
perverted his life and stolen his peace was fast and brutal. No quarter was
given as he fought the old man and formidable power of the old man's partners.
He managed to kill three in rapid succession, before the old man consolidated
the combined power of his four remaining associates into a deadly bolt that
would've killed lesser men.
The hunter fell without a sound; smoke rising from the fresh burns that been
seared into his flesh with radioactive fire.
The old man should have been the victor at that moment. He was certain of his
success, but the old man had made three simple but fatal mistakes.
The first, he presumed the hunter was dead.
The hunter should've died at that moment, but his built in advantage, his
enhanced "healing factor", saved him from that fate for a little while longer.
The old man's second mistake was less obvious:
He turned his back on the hunter.
Even with the excruciating pain that tore through his body, the hunter managed
to find the strength to rise and stand. While the old man was absorbed in
monitoring the progress of the battle his soldiers fought against the hunter's
allies, he never noticed the hunter's movements; he had dismissed any further
interference from that quarter. The old man still had the hunter's allies to
deal with, and was certain that in a few more moments his forces would be
victorious.
The hunter had been forgotten which would prove to be the old man's final and
most fatal mistake.
The hunter was still able to move, and therefore was still dangerous.
A sharp intake of breath came from the old man as he realized that the hunter's
allies had gained the upper hand. At first, it seemed as if defeat were
certain. Formidable as the hunter's allies were, sheer numbers would eventually
wear them down. The old man nearly laughed out loud as he saw the mentor fall,
grazed by a bullet fired by one of the old man's soldiers. It was only a matter
of time, the old man reasoned, until the other invaders fell.
That was when the sharp staccato whine of a machine gun cut through the old
man's defenders with unerring accuracy. They fell quickly, with each shot
ringing true, each hit a fatal one. The old man was at a loss for only a moment
as a lone figure stepped into view high above the battleground. It was the one
man no one expected to see in this fight, the gunsmith.
The gunsmith hadn't been seriously wounded, but the hunter decided that one of
his people should held in reserve and able to come to their aid unnoticed. A
simple nerve pinch provided an effective enough ruse, keeping the gunsmith safe
in case his talents were needed.
In an odd way, the gunsmith turned the tide of more than one struggle when he
saved the hunter's allies.
The old man was furious, ranting, and half-crazed; he was consumed with
finishing off the last resistance to the plans he and his associates had made to
control the world. The old man still had power enough to destroy the hunter's
allies. He would use it to detonate their plane once they were safely away from
his stronghold.
As he headed for the control chamber, the old man remained oblivious to the
approach of the hunter at his back. The old man never realized the only man with
a prayer of stopping him was far from dead.
But that wouldn't last for long. The radiation had already killed the hunter,
but he couldn't quit...
He still had a job to do.
He couldn't die yet...
The hunter reached for one of his last weapons, the dagger that he wore on his
right ankle and called the old man's name with an agonizing ragged breath that
was barely above a whisper. It was enough for the old man turn towards the
noise. The old man's face registered shock as he realized he faced the hunter,
and that moment's surprise proved to be his undoing. The handle of the heavy
dagger the hunter had thrown smashed into the old man's face, knocking loose the
helmet that the old man used as a conduit to focus the mental might of his
associates.
The hunter managed to find a hidden reserve of strength that carried him to the
helmet before the old man recovered. Without a moment's hesitation, the hunter
pulled the helmet on and fought a battle of wills with the minds linked to his
own.
The hunter has survived death twice now, once through the science of his
enemies, the second because of the genetic enhancements they gave him. He tried
to laugh at the irony of that thought as the mental battle raged on, but all
that came out was this horrible sharp, phlegm like cough that told him death
wouldn't wait much longer.
The hunter felt his control increase, the other minds had stopped fighting him.
For the less than a heartbeat, the hunter wondered if they had given up or were
waiting to see if he'd die first. It didn't matter, the hunter shrugged off the
last doubt and said a silent goodbye to his allies who were safely away from
this place and issued a command that would overload the reactors and wipe this
evil place from the face of this world.
The hunt was over, he had tracked his quarry, run it to ground, and made the
kill...
Paul Kirk smiled grimly through cracked and bloodied lips and waited for death
to come.
As the explosions began to rip through the complex, he thought he had heard the
old man's associates in the back of mind laughing.
It didn't matter, he had won and he was going to the peace he had earned.
And that's when the world suddenly caught fire and exploded before him...
That's when he realized why the Council was laughing...
And what that laughter meant...
For him...
And his friends...
And he realized, suddenly, that he was going to die too soon after all...
******************************
TIES: A TALE OF THE MANHUNTER
Part One: A Quiet Moment
Written by Ali
******************************
NOW...
ZURICH
Christine St. Clair stared at the city from her balcony. She had recently
returned home after finding the last Manhunter clone in Gotham. This last one
had been the hardest to kill, he was as good as Paul and understood psychology
enough to do something the others didn't attempt; he wore Paul's costume and
weapons. Christine, Asano Nitobe, Paul's mentor in the martial arts and the
undisputed master of Ninjitsu; and Kobe Mbeya, a gunsmith whom Paul called an
artist in his craft; had crisscrossed the globe searching for the remnants of
the Council's enforcement branch, a cadre of killers cloned from Paul Kirk's
cells.
Each clone they encountered was killed as quickly and painlessly as possible;
each one wore the face of a man they cared for in their individual ways and that
brought a certain mercy to their mission. It wasn't always an easy or merciful
kill; the clones discovered all too quickly that they were being hunted and took
steps to protect themselves.
But this last one had been the hardest; he was the most ruthless of the bunch
and as clever as Paul himself.
That wasn't it really. Christine knew why this clone had been so hard to kill.
He looked just like Paul when she last saw him; it was almost like he never
died. She froze when she saw him. Christine was overwhelmed by memories,
feelings she thought she had put to rest, but found still hurt as keenly as they
did when he died.
So much she wished she had said to Paul had come back in that instant.
And that hesitation was what the clone had counted on. He even smiled like he
was happy to see her before he raised a perfect replica of Paul's 1916 Mauser
and shot her in the chest at point blank range.
Christine counted herself lucky that "Paul" hadn't shot her in the head, the
only part of her body that wasn't protected by Kobe's reinforced kevlar armor.
The shots still made enough of an impact to knock the wind out of her and lay
her out flat on her back.
Christine was still trying to clear her head when she realized that "Paul" was
standing over her. This time, he was aiming at her head and from this range he
wouldn't miss.
That was when the air around the clone seemed to come alive with a barrage of
sharp black throwing stars. Christine counted her blessings once more, Asano
had kept his head and attacked "Paul" before he could get off his shot.
"Paul" fired blindly at Asano and dove through the window of the seedy hotel
room he had rented. Christine and Asano went after the clone and he led them on
a chase that soon gained the attention of the Gotham police force.
The police and one other.
Christine wasn't focused. Her shots were often wide and "Paul" seemed to evade
them with ease. Asano was affected as well. Paul was like a son to him and
though he was able to keep the clone from killing them, he couldn't seem to
bring the man down.
The fight was lasting too long and becoming too public.
The whole thing had gone sour to them; this man had managed to look enough like
Paul that they were unconsciously holding back. The chase seemed to last for
hours as the hunted and the hunters leapt across the wide chasms of stone and
steel. Buildings shot by with dizzying speed as Christine and Asano closed in.
"Paul's" advantage was starting to fade. He started to get desperate.
The clone eventually ran out of hiding places. Slowly but surely, Christine and
Asano had managed to force the clone out towards open lower ground where cover
was harder to come by. The clone made his way toward the Vincefinkel Memorial
Bridge, in a last bid for escape.
It was rush hour, the bridge would be filled with commuters, filled with
thousands of potential hostages.
Christine's own desperation kicked in. She was a former agent of Interpol, she
had seen more than her fair share of hostage situations. If the clone managed
to take even one person hostage, they'd lose him. Given the circumstances, she
made a choice in order to cut off that possibility.
She fired several rounds at the cars on the bridge.
Christine's shots had the desired effect, commuters scrambled from their
vehicles and rushed for the safety of the toll islands.
"Paul" changed tactics once more and began a running gun battle. The clone laid
down enough covering fire to find shelter among the abandoned cars. Christine
and Asano fanned out, searching quickly and urgently; they knew the end of this
hunt was near.
That was when Christine felt a loop slip over her head. She managed get her
wrists into the loop before she could be choked or hung, but she was effectively
caught. A strong tug pulled her up towards the base of one of the bridge
towers. The clone had found higher ground and gained his hostage.
Asano hesitated. "Paul" had a replica of the Manhunter's Bundi dagger pointed
at her throat and the Mauser in his other hand. The clone smiled confidently,
he knew he had won. He knew Asano was as helpless on the ground as Christine
was at the point of his blade.
And then a huge bat-shaped shadow passed over "Paul's" face, distracting him.
Christine moved quickly, without a thought, and kicked the clone's arm, causing
him to drop the dagger as he struggled to keep his balance. Asano had begun to
move at the same time, somersaulting to the roof of a car and using that as a
springboard to carry him to the tower's base. Asano hit the clone hard,
throwing his weight into a fierce kick that sent the clone tumbling off of the
tower. Asano had managed to grab a bridge cable and used his momentum to swing
himself back to safety.
They watched "Paul" fall the entire one hundred fifty feet to the concrete
foundation below. "Paul" died instantly.
Asano and Christine were still looking down at the dead man when the Batman
joined them at the edge of the bridge.
Gotham's Dark Knight was not a killer. He didn't subscribe to killing nor did
he condone it as a way to defeat an enemy. Despite the fact that he stood with
Christine and Asano all those years ago when they raided the Council's
sanctuary, and knew about Manhunter's clones; this was something he felt
could've been handled without killing the clone. His anger was obvious, but
when Kobe showed up in the chopper to pick them up, the Batman didn't stop them.
It was over at long last. Christine knew Paul's spirit would rest easier now,
the clones had been eradicated. Christine had done what she could to give Paul
back his individuality and dignity.
Christine returned home once more, she had other matters to attend to now that
Paul had been avenged.
Christine sipped her tea and looked out over the gardens surrounding her home.
She enjoyed the peacefulness she felt here, she hadn't realized how tired she
had grown of globehopping. Christine had retired from Interpol some time ago, a
wealthy woman thanks to her father. He had left his entire estate and
considerable fortune to Christine when he died. Christine's life was free from
want, her father had made sure of that.
Her father...
Christine was almost overcome with emotion as she thought about him and
everything that happened between them in the last few hours of his life.
Christine still had mixed feelings about her father, he was one of the Council's
most powerful covert agents and, in his position as one of the leading bankers
in Zurich, a major contributor to their efforts.
Yet, he wanted more power than his reputation and money could bring him. It was
this kind of power that the Council offered. A power that seemed to be the
fulfillment of his wildest dreams. He believed their lies enough that he was
willing to sacrifice his daughter in order to attain his goals.
Christine's father was in a deadly game where the stakes were far greater than
he dreamed. Failure was unacceptable and the price of failure was one that was
swift and final. He was shot exiting the Orient Express after he failed to
retrieve a tape from Christine that contained evidence about the Council and
their movements.
Christine recalled sadly that her father wasn't the only person that betrayed
her trust during her adventures with Paul Kirk. Damon Nostrand was her superior
in Interpol, and another covert Council plant. Damon kept the Council privy to
the movements of the various international police agencies across the globe, and
helped them avoid detection by those same agencies. Damon headed the Second
Line, and was the next person in line to sit on the Council itself.
Damon was killed in an explosion when he attempted to run down Paul and
Christine in one of Marrakesh's alleyways.
Both men coveted power regardless of cost and both were killed as a result of
their ambition.
Christine's whole life seemed to dissolve into series of lies, betrayal and
death because of her own ambition and dedication to seeing justice done. She
had spent the last ten years of her life putting an end to the final remnants of
the Council. She was ready to have a normal life at last.
Christine pulled her robe tighter and enjoyed the new day. She was ready to
enjoy every moment she felt she had lost over the last decade.
She had a lot of lost time to make up.
A scented breeze played with Christine's fiery tresses, blowing hair over her
eyes. She brushed it away and walked back into her bedroom to find a comb or
clip to keep it in place. Christine had begun to rummage through one of the
dresser drawers when she heard the rustle of movement in the hallway.
Christine's years of training and experience kicked in automatically. She
tensed, cocking her head slightly in the direction of the noise, and let her
senses go to work. She listened to the progress of the noise for a few moments
more and smiled, she knew what was about to happen.
The door to her bedroom burst open, and a small figure bounded in and leaped up
at Christine. Christine had managed to grab the figure, but not before the
impact pushed her off her feet and threw them both on the bed. Christine
struggled against her attacker for a few moments before she began to submit to
the frenzied movements of her opponent. She could barely see past the reddish
auburn hair that bobbed in and out of her face. She knew that her opponent
would not stop the attack until she surrendered.
Instead, Christine counter-attacked, moving her fingers swiftly up and down the
rib cage of her attacker. Her efforts were rewarded with squeals of laughter.
Christine's attacker rolled away and landed on the floor with a thud. Christine
jumped off the bed and pinned her attacker to the floor. She continued to
tickle her attacker until the only sound in the room was the laughter they both
shared. Eventually, Christine rolled off her opponent and rested with her back
against her bed.
"Had enough?" Christine asked as she tousled her opponent's hair.
"You cheated!" the small figure gasped between giggles. Christine's opponent
was a young boy. He was solidly built, with intense eyes and a bright smile.
Despite his age, the boy's face had strong features that hinted at the handsome
man he would grow to become.
"I improvised," Christine replied wagging her finger. "Now what has you rushing
into my room this early in the day, young man?"
"You said we'd go to the street fair today!" The boy seemed to be at a loss
over Christine's apparent lack of memory. His concern was obvious as he looked
up at her.
"I believe that was after you had washed up, dressed and cleaned your room,"
Christine answered with mock seriousness. "You haven't even changed out of your
pajamas yet, so I know everything else MUST be done for you to remind me about
the fair today."
"Oh, mother," the boy cooed in resignation, "can't I do all of that later? If I
have to clean my room up, that could take FOREVER! I'll miss the fair!"
"Then you'll miss the fair," Christine answered her seriousness real this time.
"You know the rules, if you can't follow them, you pay a penalty. Do you
understand?"
The boy cast his eyes at the floor, "Yes ma'am."
The somber mood was enough to soften Christine's stern expression. She cupped
her son's face in her hands and turned it up towards her own.
"Now don't look like that," Christine said with a slight smile. "I'm not angry
with you, I just want you to understand that rules are important."
Christine's smile grew as she looked at her son. It was hard to believe that
she finally had time to be the kind of mother she wanted to be. The only
drawback to her mission was that she had to spend time away from him. All of
that was over now, she had a new mission ahead of her and it was one she was
looking forward to.
"So tell me, who's my best guy?"
"ME!" the boy shouted enthusiastically.
"That's right," Christine said. "Now hurry up and get your chores done and we
can be at the fair before lunch."
"All right, mom." The boy said bounding to his feet. His smile was so warm that
it melted Christine's heart to see it.
He had reached the door when Christine said, "Paul?"
"Yes, mom?" The boy turned with a smile still on face, but it faded a bit as he
saw the odd expression on his mother's face.
"I just wanted to say I love you."
Paul ran back into the room and hugged his mother's waist. "'Love you too."
As he ran out of the room, Christine realized how lucky she was. After leading
such a dangerous life, she had managed to survive and live to enjoy the rewards
of her efforts. Paul was an unexpected gift, conceived in a quiet moment a few
days before the raid on the Council's sanctuary. Paul had been gone for a full
month before Christine had her first bout of morning sickness and found out that
she was pregnant with Paul's child. Asano and Kobe stayed with her and when
little Paul was born, they found a nanny that was also trained in several forms
of martial arts. Until their enemies had been dealt with, there wasn't any way
that they were going to bring the child with them nor could they leave him
unprotected.
Christine was happy to take on that particular duty now.
She was still lingering over that thought when she felt a sharp pain in the side
of her neck. She had just enough time to find the tiny dart that had struck
before her fingers went numb and she started to sink to the floor.
She could faintly make out the form of a powerfully built man covered from head
to toe in a gaudy colored suit of armor. The golden helmet with its' almost
lizard like appearance, was one she hadn't forgotten.
Christine thought he had died in the explosion that destroyed the Council's
sanctuary.
As she slipped into unconsciousness, Christine entertained the possibility that
this was someone new. Someone who wanted to make a name for himself by stealing
the reputation of another, but when he removed his helmet, there was no room for
doubt. The tousled blonde hair, the cruel expression and the hatred that
gleamed in his eyes were unmistakable even after all these years.
He was the Council's replacement for Paul Kirk and a former friend of the
Batman.
His name was Dan Kingdom, but the Council called him the Enforcer.
Christine fought to focus, she fought to stay awake, but the darkness was
overtaking her reserves. The Enforcer saw the look of recognition in
Christine's eyes and smiled.
"You're looking well Ms. St. Clair. I'm glad to find you and your son in such
good health and spirits. It's a shame your last memories won't be happy ones."
Christine barely registered the fact that the Enforcer had Paul slung over his
shoulder before he struck her in the temple and finished the job his drugged
dart had started.
*****************************************************
To be continued...
characters depicted here are owned by DC Comics, soon to be an AOL/Time/Warner
company and that said owners retains complete rights to said character. These
concepts are used WITHOUT permission for NO PROFIT, but rather a strong desire
to tell my own tales about a few of the many characters I've enjoyed over the
years. This also acknowledges that original concepts presented here are the
intellectual property of the author.
That said, I submit the following for your approval...
***************
THEN...
The hunter knew he was going to die.
He had known it from the moment they arrived and descended into mountain. He
knew it as he and his companions battled across the complex in a maddening dance
of motion and blood.
They had started out as a party of four and almost immediately lost one of their
number to a sniper's bullet as he stepped from their plane. The hunter watched
the gunsmith fall onto the ground and scrambled to his side. His other
companions dove for cover as bullets continued to bite into the earth around
them; each harsh whine and thump bringing them all a step closer to death.
He knew he was going to die. He was ready for it, welcomed it...
...but not now. Not yet. The hunter still had to avenge himself on these
ghouls who snatched him from the peace he had found. He had to live a little
while longer and end this nightmare once and for all.
The hunter was still formulating his plan of attack when the guns suddenly fell
silent. It was an action that heralded the arrival of the man they turned away,
the man who didn't kill. The dark man who was considered a force of nature in
his own urban jungle, but was only a liability in this, a "killing mission".
Despite their refusal, the dark man had managed to follow them to this secret
place where they would fight this final battle. The dark man had proved that
his methods were as effective as their own and asked to help.
The dark man had his own score to settle, he was there to avenge the death of a
friend, and was going to proceed with or without their aid.
The hunter considered the dark man's request, a quick decision was made and they
were four once again as they descended into the den of their common foe.
The hunter had allowed his mentor to lead the way into the enemy's stronghold;
it seemed the best plan given his mentor's experience and time there. He
followed behind his mentor with the dark man at his back and bringing up the
rear was the woman. The hunter was tempted to think of her as "his" woman after
all they had shared and been through together; but it wasn't something he'd give
into, it would only be an illusion.
A pleasant illusion, but an illusion nonetheless.
A lie like the rest of his second life had been.
The hunter was tired of the lies, the bloodshed and the violence. He wanted to
rest. He wanted peace. He wanted it to be over.
The hunter was ready to die.
They had met resistance from the moment they breached the main plaza. Each
struck in his or her fashion and cleared the field of most of their opponents in
seconds.
For a moment the battle was joined by the hunter's replacement, an enforcer who
lacked the principles the hunter held dear. The enforcer was also the man who
had killed the dark man's friend and defeated the dark man in an earlier battle
half a world away. The enforcer tried to stop the hunter's assault, but the
dark man stepped in to clear the way and avenge his friend's death. Oddly
enough, the enforcer turned out to be his friend and the man who died half a
world away was a substitute meant to cover the enforcer's defection to the side
of the hunter's enemies.
The mentor fought incredible odds and provided a distraction as the hunter and
the woman raced for the ladder that would take them to the access hatch above
their common enemy's inner sanctum.
The hunter and the woman paused long enough to make certain of the final phase
of their plans. There were dozens of things they could have said. Time enough
for some last gesture of what they may have felt. The woman's mask slipped
slightly as she repeated his instructions. She protested for just a moment, she
was ready to go into the final battle with him and if need be, die with him.
He wouldn't allow that, they both knew that this was one battle he had to face
alone.
He never looked at her as they stood above the access hatch. He simply reminded
her of her mission and that he was depending on her to carry it out, regardless
of what happened to him.
On some level he knew this was the last time they'd be together, his last chance
to walk away and take her with him. Instead he steeled himself, and emptied his
mind of anything other than carrying out his part of the mission.
This was his chance to finally end this thing once and for all.
This was his chance to regain peace once more.
It was time for him to reclaim everything that made his life special.
As he dropped through the hatch, he knew this time would be the last time, the
last fight, his final hunt.
Everything happened quickly then. The confrontation with the old man who had
perverted his life and stolen his peace was fast and brutal. No quarter was
given as he fought the old man and formidable power of the old man's partners.
He managed to kill three in rapid succession, before the old man consolidated
the combined power of his four remaining associates into a deadly bolt that
would've killed lesser men.
The hunter fell without a sound; smoke rising from the fresh burns that been
seared into his flesh with radioactive fire.
The old man should have been the victor at that moment. He was certain of his
success, but the old man had made three simple but fatal mistakes.
The first, he presumed the hunter was dead.
The hunter should've died at that moment, but his built in advantage, his
enhanced "healing factor", saved him from that fate for a little while longer.
The old man's second mistake was less obvious:
He turned his back on the hunter.
Even with the excruciating pain that tore through his body, the hunter managed
to find the strength to rise and stand. While the old man was absorbed in
monitoring the progress of the battle his soldiers fought against the hunter's
allies, he never noticed the hunter's movements; he had dismissed any further
interference from that quarter. The old man still had the hunter's allies to
deal with, and was certain that in a few more moments his forces would be
victorious.
The hunter had been forgotten which would prove to be the old man's final and
most fatal mistake.
The hunter was still able to move, and therefore was still dangerous.
A sharp intake of breath came from the old man as he realized that the hunter's
allies had gained the upper hand. At first, it seemed as if defeat were
certain. Formidable as the hunter's allies were, sheer numbers would eventually
wear them down. The old man nearly laughed out loud as he saw the mentor fall,
grazed by a bullet fired by one of the old man's soldiers. It was only a matter
of time, the old man reasoned, until the other invaders fell.
That was when the sharp staccato whine of a machine gun cut through the old
man's defenders with unerring accuracy. They fell quickly, with each shot
ringing true, each hit a fatal one. The old man was at a loss for only a moment
as a lone figure stepped into view high above the battleground. It was the one
man no one expected to see in this fight, the gunsmith.
The gunsmith hadn't been seriously wounded, but the hunter decided that one of
his people should held in reserve and able to come to their aid unnoticed. A
simple nerve pinch provided an effective enough ruse, keeping the gunsmith safe
in case his talents were needed.
In an odd way, the gunsmith turned the tide of more than one struggle when he
saved the hunter's allies.
The old man was furious, ranting, and half-crazed; he was consumed with
finishing off the last resistance to the plans he and his associates had made to
control the world. The old man still had power enough to destroy the hunter's
allies. He would use it to detonate their plane once they were safely away from
his stronghold.
As he headed for the control chamber, the old man remained oblivious to the
approach of the hunter at his back. The old man never realized the only man with
a prayer of stopping him was far from dead.
But that wouldn't last for long. The radiation had already killed the hunter,
but he couldn't quit...
He still had a job to do.
He couldn't die yet...
The hunter reached for one of his last weapons, the dagger that he wore on his
right ankle and called the old man's name with an agonizing ragged breath that
was barely above a whisper. It was enough for the old man turn towards the
noise. The old man's face registered shock as he realized he faced the hunter,
and that moment's surprise proved to be his undoing. The handle of the heavy
dagger the hunter had thrown smashed into the old man's face, knocking loose the
helmet that the old man used as a conduit to focus the mental might of his
associates.
The hunter managed to find a hidden reserve of strength that carried him to the
helmet before the old man recovered. Without a moment's hesitation, the hunter
pulled the helmet on and fought a battle of wills with the minds linked to his
own.
The hunter has survived death twice now, once through the science of his
enemies, the second because of the genetic enhancements they gave him. He tried
to laugh at the irony of that thought as the mental battle raged on, but all
that came out was this horrible sharp, phlegm like cough that told him death
wouldn't wait much longer.
The hunter felt his control increase, the other minds had stopped fighting him.
For the less than a heartbeat, the hunter wondered if they had given up or were
waiting to see if he'd die first. It didn't matter, the hunter shrugged off the
last doubt and said a silent goodbye to his allies who were safely away from
this place and issued a command that would overload the reactors and wipe this
evil place from the face of this world.
The hunt was over, he had tracked his quarry, run it to ground, and made the
kill...
Paul Kirk smiled grimly through cracked and bloodied lips and waited for death
to come.
As the explosions began to rip through the complex, he thought he had heard the
old man's associates in the back of mind laughing.
It didn't matter, he had won and he was going to the peace he had earned.
And that's when the world suddenly caught fire and exploded before him...
That's when he realized why the Council was laughing...
And what that laughter meant...
For him...
And his friends...
And he realized, suddenly, that he was going to die too soon after all...
******************************
TIES: A TALE OF THE MANHUNTER
Part One: A Quiet Moment
Written by Ali
******************************
NOW...
ZURICH
Christine St. Clair stared at the city from her balcony. She had recently
returned home after finding the last Manhunter clone in Gotham. This last one
had been the hardest to kill, he was as good as Paul and understood psychology
enough to do something the others didn't attempt; he wore Paul's costume and
weapons. Christine, Asano Nitobe, Paul's mentor in the martial arts and the
undisputed master of Ninjitsu; and Kobe Mbeya, a gunsmith whom Paul called an
artist in his craft; had crisscrossed the globe searching for the remnants of
the Council's enforcement branch, a cadre of killers cloned from Paul Kirk's
cells.
Each clone they encountered was killed as quickly and painlessly as possible;
each one wore the face of a man they cared for in their individual ways and that
brought a certain mercy to their mission. It wasn't always an easy or merciful
kill; the clones discovered all too quickly that they were being hunted and took
steps to protect themselves.
But this last one had been the hardest; he was the most ruthless of the bunch
and as clever as Paul himself.
That wasn't it really. Christine knew why this clone had been so hard to kill.
He looked just like Paul when she last saw him; it was almost like he never
died. She froze when she saw him. Christine was overwhelmed by memories,
feelings she thought she had put to rest, but found still hurt as keenly as they
did when he died.
So much she wished she had said to Paul had come back in that instant.
And that hesitation was what the clone had counted on. He even smiled like he
was happy to see her before he raised a perfect replica of Paul's 1916 Mauser
and shot her in the chest at point blank range.
Christine counted herself lucky that "Paul" hadn't shot her in the head, the
only part of her body that wasn't protected by Kobe's reinforced kevlar armor.
The shots still made enough of an impact to knock the wind out of her and lay
her out flat on her back.
Christine was still trying to clear her head when she realized that "Paul" was
standing over her. This time, he was aiming at her head and from this range he
wouldn't miss.
That was when the air around the clone seemed to come alive with a barrage of
sharp black throwing stars. Christine counted her blessings once more, Asano
had kept his head and attacked "Paul" before he could get off his shot.
"Paul" fired blindly at Asano and dove through the window of the seedy hotel
room he had rented. Christine and Asano went after the clone and he led them on
a chase that soon gained the attention of the Gotham police force.
The police and one other.
Christine wasn't focused. Her shots were often wide and "Paul" seemed to evade
them with ease. Asano was affected as well. Paul was like a son to him and
though he was able to keep the clone from killing them, he couldn't seem to
bring the man down.
The fight was lasting too long and becoming too public.
The whole thing had gone sour to them; this man had managed to look enough like
Paul that they were unconsciously holding back. The chase seemed to last for
hours as the hunted and the hunters leapt across the wide chasms of stone and
steel. Buildings shot by with dizzying speed as Christine and Asano closed in.
"Paul's" advantage was starting to fade. He started to get desperate.
The clone eventually ran out of hiding places. Slowly but surely, Christine and
Asano had managed to force the clone out towards open lower ground where cover
was harder to come by. The clone made his way toward the Vincefinkel Memorial
Bridge, in a last bid for escape.
It was rush hour, the bridge would be filled with commuters, filled with
thousands of potential hostages.
Christine's own desperation kicked in. She was a former agent of Interpol, she
had seen more than her fair share of hostage situations. If the clone managed
to take even one person hostage, they'd lose him. Given the circumstances, she
made a choice in order to cut off that possibility.
She fired several rounds at the cars on the bridge.
Christine's shots had the desired effect, commuters scrambled from their
vehicles and rushed for the safety of the toll islands.
"Paul" changed tactics once more and began a running gun battle. The clone laid
down enough covering fire to find shelter among the abandoned cars. Christine
and Asano fanned out, searching quickly and urgently; they knew the end of this
hunt was near.
That was when Christine felt a loop slip over her head. She managed get her
wrists into the loop before she could be choked or hung, but she was effectively
caught. A strong tug pulled her up towards the base of one of the bridge
towers. The clone had found higher ground and gained his hostage.
Asano hesitated. "Paul" had a replica of the Manhunter's Bundi dagger pointed
at her throat and the Mauser in his other hand. The clone smiled confidently,
he knew he had won. He knew Asano was as helpless on the ground as Christine
was at the point of his blade.
And then a huge bat-shaped shadow passed over "Paul's" face, distracting him.
Christine moved quickly, without a thought, and kicked the clone's arm, causing
him to drop the dagger as he struggled to keep his balance. Asano had begun to
move at the same time, somersaulting to the roof of a car and using that as a
springboard to carry him to the tower's base. Asano hit the clone hard,
throwing his weight into a fierce kick that sent the clone tumbling off of the
tower. Asano had managed to grab a bridge cable and used his momentum to swing
himself back to safety.
They watched "Paul" fall the entire one hundred fifty feet to the concrete
foundation below. "Paul" died instantly.
Asano and Christine were still looking down at the dead man when the Batman
joined them at the edge of the bridge.
Gotham's Dark Knight was not a killer. He didn't subscribe to killing nor did
he condone it as a way to defeat an enemy. Despite the fact that he stood with
Christine and Asano all those years ago when they raided the Council's
sanctuary, and knew about Manhunter's clones; this was something he felt
could've been handled without killing the clone. His anger was obvious, but
when Kobe showed up in the chopper to pick them up, the Batman didn't stop them.
It was over at long last. Christine knew Paul's spirit would rest easier now,
the clones had been eradicated. Christine had done what she could to give Paul
back his individuality and dignity.
Christine returned home once more, she had other matters to attend to now that
Paul had been avenged.
Christine sipped her tea and looked out over the gardens surrounding her home.
She enjoyed the peacefulness she felt here, she hadn't realized how tired she
had grown of globehopping. Christine had retired from Interpol some time ago, a
wealthy woman thanks to her father. He had left his entire estate and
considerable fortune to Christine when he died. Christine's life was free from
want, her father had made sure of that.
Her father...
Christine was almost overcome with emotion as she thought about him and
everything that happened between them in the last few hours of his life.
Christine still had mixed feelings about her father, he was one of the Council's
most powerful covert agents and, in his position as one of the leading bankers
in Zurich, a major contributor to their efforts.
Yet, he wanted more power than his reputation and money could bring him. It was
this kind of power that the Council offered. A power that seemed to be the
fulfillment of his wildest dreams. He believed their lies enough that he was
willing to sacrifice his daughter in order to attain his goals.
Christine's father was in a deadly game where the stakes were far greater than
he dreamed. Failure was unacceptable and the price of failure was one that was
swift and final. He was shot exiting the Orient Express after he failed to
retrieve a tape from Christine that contained evidence about the Council and
their movements.
Christine recalled sadly that her father wasn't the only person that betrayed
her trust during her adventures with Paul Kirk. Damon Nostrand was her superior
in Interpol, and another covert Council plant. Damon kept the Council privy to
the movements of the various international police agencies across the globe, and
helped them avoid detection by those same agencies. Damon headed the Second
Line, and was the next person in line to sit on the Council itself.
Damon was killed in an explosion when he attempted to run down Paul and
Christine in one of Marrakesh's alleyways.
Both men coveted power regardless of cost and both were killed as a result of
their ambition.
Christine's whole life seemed to dissolve into series of lies, betrayal and
death because of her own ambition and dedication to seeing justice done. She
had spent the last ten years of her life putting an end to the final remnants of
the Council. She was ready to have a normal life at last.
Christine pulled her robe tighter and enjoyed the new day. She was ready to
enjoy every moment she felt she had lost over the last decade.
She had a lot of lost time to make up.
A scented breeze played with Christine's fiery tresses, blowing hair over her
eyes. She brushed it away and walked back into her bedroom to find a comb or
clip to keep it in place. Christine had begun to rummage through one of the
dresser drawers when she heard the rustle of movement in the hallway.
Christine's years of training and experience kicked in automatically. She
tensed, cocking her head slightly in the direction of the noise, and let her
senses go to work. She listened to the progress of the noise for a few moments
more and smiled, she knew what was about to happen.
The door to her bedroom burst open, and a small figure bounded in and leaped up
at Christine. Christine had managed to grab the figure, but not before the
impact pushed her off her feet and threw them both on the bed. Christine
struggled against her attacker for a few moments before she began to submit to
the frenzied movements of her opponent. She could barely see past the reddish
auburn hair that bobbed in and out of her face. She knew that her opponent
would not stop the attack until she surrendered.
Instead, Christine counter-attacked, moving her fingers swiftly up and down the
rib cage of her attacker. Her efforts were rewarded with squeals of laughter.
Christine's attacker rolled away and landed on the floor with a thud. Christine
jumped off the bed and pinned her attacker to the floor. She continued to
tickle her attacker until the only sound in the room was the laughter they both
shared. Eventually, Christine rolled off her opponent and rested with her back
against her bed.
"Had enough?" Christine asked as she tousled her opponent's hair.
"You cheated!" the small figure gasped between giggles. Christine's opponent
was a young boy. He was solidly built, with intense eyes and a bright smile.
Despite his age, the boy's face had strong features that hinted at the handsome
man he would grow to become.
"I improvised," Christine replied wagging her finger. "Now what has you rushing
into my room this early in the day, young man?"
"You said we'd go to the street fair today!" The boy seemed to be at a loss
over Christine's apparent lack of memory. His concern was obvious as he looked
up at her.
"I believe that was after you had washed up, dressed and cleaned your room,"
Christine answered with mock seriousness. "You haven't even changed out of your
pajamas yet, so I know everything else MUST be done for you to remind me about
the fair today."
"Oh, mother," the boy cooed in resignation, "can't I do all of that later? If I
have to clean my room up, that could take FOREVER! I'll miss the fair!"
"Then you'll miss the fair," Christine answered her seriousness real this time.
"You know the rules, if you can't follow them, you pay a penalty. Do you
understand?"
The boy cast his eyes at the floor, "Yes ma'am."
The somber mood was enough to soften Christine's stern expression. She cupped
her son's face in her hands and turned it up towards her own.
"Now don't look like that," Christine said with a slight smile. "I'm not angry
with you, I just want you to understand that rules are important."
Christine's smile grew as she looked at her son. It was hard to believe that
she finally had time to be the kind of mother she wanted to be. The only
drawback to her mission was that she had to spend time away from him. All of
that was over now, she had a new mission ahead of her and it was one she was
looking forward to.
"So tell me, who's my best guy?"
"ME!" the boy shouted enthusiastically.
"That's right," Christine said. "Now hurry up and get your chores done and we
can be at the fair before lunch."
"All right, mom." The boy said bounding to his feet. His smile was so warm that
it melted Christine's heart to see it.
He had reached the door when Christine said, "Paul?"
"Yes, mom?" The boy turned with a smile still on face, but it faded a bit as he
saw the odd expression on his mother's face.
"I just wanted to say I love you."
Paul ran back into the room and hugged his mother's waist. "'Love you too."
As he ran out of the room, Christine realized how lucky she was. After leading
such a dangerous life, she had managed to survive and live to enjoy the rewards
of her efforts. Paul was an unexpected gift, conceived in a quiet moment a few
days before the raid on the Council's sanctuary. Paul had been gone for a full
month before Christine had her first bout of morning sickness and found out that
she was pregnant with Paul's child. Asano and Kobe stayed with her and when
little Paul was born, they found a nanny that was also trained in several forms
of martial arts. Until their enemies had been dealt with, there wasn't any way
that they were going to bring the child with them nor could they leave him
unprotected.
Christine was happy to take on that particular duty now.
She was still lingering over that thought when she felt a sharp pain in the side
of her neck. She had just enough time to find the tiny dart that had struck
before her fingers went numb and she started to sink to the floor.
She could faintly make out the form of a powerfully built man covered from head
to toe in a gaudy colored suit of armor. The golden helmet with its' almost
lizard like appearance, was one she hadn't forgotten.
Christine thought he had died in the explosion that destroyed the Council's
sanctuary.
As she slipped into unconsciousness, Christine entertained the possibility that
this was someone new. Someone who wanted to make a name for himself by stealing
the reputation of another, but when he removed his helmet, there was no room for
doubt. The tousled blonde hair, the cruel expression and the hatred that
gleamed in his eyes were unmistakable even after all these years.
He was the Council's replacement for Paul Kirk and a former friend of the
Batman.
His name was Dan Kingdom, but the Council called him the Enforcer.
Christine fought to focus, she fought to stay awake, but the darkness was
overtaking her reserves. The Enforcer saw the look of recognition in
Christine's eyes and smiled.
"You're looking well Ms. St. Clair. I'm glad to find you and your son in such
good health and spirits. It's a shame your last memories won't be happy ones."
Christine barely registered the fact that the Enforcer had Paul slung over his
shoulder before he struck her in the temple and finished the job his drugged
dart had started.
*****************************************************
To be continued...
