The world before knowledge.

Much further North.

Even on the side of a mountain it was oppressively hot and humid so close to the equator. Trees of many types spread out as far as the eye could see. The early morning sun beat down on the jungle landscape.

Through the trees there were hints of movement. Birds flitted from place to place and the odd animal crawled or slithered here and there. Something else moved in a group silently through the wilderness but in a small sunny clearing along their path, the sound of a loud radio shifting through channels would have covered a multitude of sins.

Twenty men, all wearing various shades of green, milled about doing little but trying to get out of the hot sun. The sun had just risen past the mountain to their East and things had taken a languid turn. Many sat around, working on the mix of guns and weapons they were carrying. A few took care of their ammunition, either slipping bullets into extra clips for their antiquated but common AK rifles, or laying out the ammo bandoliers they'd been wearing so that the newly risen sun didn't make the metal uncomfortably hot. Others sauntered around, carrying their guns at ready while headed from place to place while one man worked the tuning on an older model radio, trying to find a good AM station for the news.

The radio blared English as he hit a good station during a report, "Sixty Philippine soldiers suspected of involvement in bank robberies have been removed from their assignments and sent on combat missions against communist rebels, the armed forces reported Wednesday. The soldiers, mostly privates, were members of a security force assigned to guard the Camp Aguinaldo general military headquarters in Manila."

A few laughs broke out as the radio operator tried a different station, "Chinese Lunar New Year is Tomorrow, prepare for the festivities…"

Uncaring, the radio man, a swarthy fellow wrapped in olive clothing to help camouflage him in the jungle, switched to a different station, "…President Corazon Aquino today called for…"

Amidst a chorus of boos the man switched channels again, quickly this time, "…announces that the 24-hour air campaign continues with 67,000 sorties flown, focusing on Scud sites and the Republican Guard. More images of dead civilians from yesterdays air strike on a Baghdad bunker in the residential al-Amerieh district, which Iraqi officials insist had been converted into an air raid shelter, have filtered into worldwide news services. American officials race to decry the images as faked. Sources indicate a major announcement by the Bush administration is coming tomorrow."

Two dark-skinned, black-haired, men walked over and motioned their fellow off the radio. They both crouched down beside it before switching the set over to FM.

"May gani wala ta didto." The first mentioned, fiddling with the dial, "ka-ubo jud ng mga buanga na."

"Sus, unsa may labot nato sa ilaha." The other replied, smacking the first's hand away, "mas importante pa ang atong gina storya."

The first laughed as he rubbed his hand, "sa tinuod lang, nindot ang ilahang kanta."

A few eyes fell on the pair as they randomly switched between stations. They were making a lot of noise, fighting over the dial. Not many people seemed to care.

"Kung gusto ka'g shagit-shagit ug kanang ibangbang imuhang ulo murag rocker." The second retorted with a chuckle, "Mas naa may exposure ang akua. Ug dili man gago ang drummer."

"At least naay duha ka kamot ang gago." The first man countered, rubbing his scruffy beard and stabbing his hand forward to turn the dial back.

The second man, the slightly bigger of the two, pushed one hand in the first's face and yanked the dial back so hard the radio couldn't keep up and all it made was a squeal, "unsa may ginahimo sa imong laki sa ilaha? Boom boom boom lang pirminti."

In the far corner of the camp another militant, an older looking man with a fuller but better trimmed beard, looked up from his maps and growled. Shaking his head decided to put up with the loud pair no longer.

"Tama na nang sige'g lalis ana beh. Dapat loyal mo sa islam." He said in rebuke. The pair just looked at him in confusion.

"Unsa ma'y atraso aning rock and roll sa Islam?" They said almost together.

The older man's rage grew and a vein began to throb visibly on his forehead, "Kanta na sa demonyo, ayaw mo'g paminaw ana!"

It caught everyone at the camp by surprise when the pair started laughing at him and turned back to the radio, obviously not impressed by his rant. It seemed that the older men in the camp had little control over the younger ones.

The first stopped laughing and motioned towards the older man, talking to whoever would listen, "Unsa may problema niya, pwede ta mag debate diri. Mindanao ni dili maski asa."

"Paminaw nimo pangayuon namo siya ug ham sandwich." The other chuckled, looking back to the radio.

The older man snorted and looked to those crouching near him with the words, "mga bugo, kung mutawag ang grupong abu sayyaf dili na nako sila i-recommend."

There were some appreciative nods as the older man looked up towards the pair and started shouting, "Ug palunga ng radyo kay saba kaa..."

He never got the rest of the words out. The sight of something moving like a shadow in the bushes past the pair caught the words in his throat. A small, hollow, black cylinder slid into sight. The older man's eyes grew wide, but for a second.

Tick Tick, Tick… a sound hidden in the blare of hard rock.

The older men fell backwards, sprouting a pair of bloodstains from his chest as one blossomed on his head. The men near him looked over confused. Besides the sound of the radio the clearing descended into a sudden silence. Men began falling over. Small bursts of blood sprayed from people almost randomly and with nothing but the sound of music hiding the thud of objects impacting flesh. Confusion was total. Surprise was complete. Not a militant in the clearing got off a shot, managed to take cover or even figured how to defend themselves.

It was over. The last body hit the ground less than nine seconds after the first shot. There was stillness for almost half a minute before a hand signal was given and three, half unseen, men carefully skirted the clearing, checking every possible contingency until they were confident and gave a hand sign back. Five men with dark clothes, warm weather hats and green face paint broke into the clearing like a bolt from nowhere. They slipped quietly and confidently different spots. Three headed to the ridge on the far end of the clearing and went prone against it while the others, staying low, began to retrieve every map, communication and radio setting they could find.

"What are you guys doing?" a voice called out from where they had come, "That radio will cover a multitude of sins."

"Didn't realize there would be much shooting on this cakewalk." another voice said, more sensibly lower than the first, "Did you hear that report? Things are heating up over there."

A number of soldiers, quiet in their own way but much louder than the first group, moved almost leisurely into the clearing and took up covering positions. Most of the men were young, and blatantly American from their accent if the boonie hats on their heads, the easy smiles, the and Marine kit they were wearing hadn't been enough of a signal.

"Yeah, and we're stuck over here in east bumble nowhere, a quarter of the world away." another responded, keeping his voice under the music on the radio as he kept an eye on the wilderness.

"Don't talk too much about East Bumble." a Marine said as he cleared the brush, "I'm from there, and it's in Pennsylvania."

"Sorry to inform you but they moved your town." one of the first chuckled, "It's in West Virginia now."

"Men are men?"

"Sheep are scared."

There was some sedate laughter and back patting as the Marines set about the camp, their purpose debatable. On the ridge towards where they were headed the three soldiers just glanced at each other in bemused silence. The one in the middle, a man just as dark as those he'd just killed, as much as could have been told under his face paint, directed the other two with quick hand motions. The one to his left, probably a redhead had his hair not been darkened by some splotchy dye, nodded and started to crawl on his belly up to the ridge. The one on his right, a blond-haired, blue-eyed, country boy tried to respond with hand signals but began to get frustrated quickly.

He thought his situation over for a second then whispered to the man beside him, "Why are they so loud?"

His commander smiled back. The look on the relatively young blonde's face, relatively because he had at least five years on the Marines behind them, make him appear if he wanted to shout his statement to the world.

"I can't blame them Hawkins." he replied quietly, "We were all just tossed out here with practically no intel or advanced recon. Hell we were almost kicked off the boats into the zodiac. I can't imagine what those Marines went through."

"I don't even know why we need them Chief." Hawkins bemoaned.

"No recon, no one's going through another Panama, we need bodies." the Chief replied then pointed back, "See, bodies."

The blonde soldier let out a quiet snort of derision, "I don't need recon for this job, people getting in my way, or anything unnecessary going on in my head and distracting me from what I have to kill."

"You never were one to put much thought into things." the Chief said with a shrug, "But we can point you at things and you make them dead, so there's always room for you."

"Don't be so flattering Chief." the younger soldier said with a grunt and turned away to make sure the Marines at least didn't turn the radio off, but to his surprise they were too busy listening to it.

"Heh, you'll find your place one day." the commander remarked mostly to himself as he turned up and gave the soldier who'd crested the ridge another signal. The confusing hand sign he got back forced him repeat the sign as he low crawled up to see what was going on.

"I don't think we brought enough bullets." the soldier whispered as the Chief came up. He was about to look over the ridge when a voice to his right caught him short.

"We'll just have to make them last longer."

The Chief glanced over at Hawkins who was practically right beside him already, even though he'd not been even looking in the right direction when his commander started up the ridge. The fact that the young man had caught up with him, soundlessly, without sparking a bit of notice impressed the older soldier. Taking it into account for later the man looked up over the ridge and gasped in shock.

"Dali kuhaa na!"

Down over the forty-foot ledge was a larger open field, but this one had been obviously cleared from the jungle, right down to the dirt, and leveled with heavy equipment. Thousands of people, possibly almost ten thousand, hurried about the clearing, carrying things, moving machinery and generally making themselves useful. The scene wouldn't have looked out of place had the people in it not been such a random bunch. Business executives still in their suits worked side by side with women of the night and men that looked like they'd lived under a bridge for years and hadn't bathed all the while. Some women even had babies with them as they cleared rock and refuse from the center of the open area.

In the midst of it all rose a gantry with catwalks and machinery. Below the conglomeration yawned a large, man-made, delving. A deep mine had been holed straight down into the earth, out in the middle of a jungle, near an active volcano.

The absurdity of the whole scene made those viewing it twitch. That still didn't stop their detached, professional, eyes from picking out men standing along the entry points to the plain with firearms not held but on straps and ready to be brought up and fired at any time.

"Thirty five gunmen, one lead near the hole." the redhead pointed out, "Can't count the civvies, there are way to many, but if it matches the number of missing, maybe fifteen thousand."

"We'll take losses breaking into that." the blonde pointed out, "There's no way to sneak in."

"Hali diri!"

"Now aren't you glad we brought the Marines?" the Chief said with a glance back and a grin, and after he gave the Marines an appreciative wave he added, "Time for them to earn their pay."

With nods and grins the three soldiers slid back off the ridge. Down on the cleared plain, one man, the one that the redhead had pointed out as lead, glanced up to where the soldiers has just been. A knowing smile split his features as one of his eyes gleamed gold.


World of New Legends, a quarter of a century later.

Six hundred miles North-West , on the outskirts of Manila, Philippines.

"Isda! Isda! And Isda ko may kaunting Mercury kesa sa iba!"

The open air market was a bustle of activity. Dozens of people coming and going made anyone getting anywhere in particular something of a challenge. The vendors called out in their native tongues as people meandered this way and that while shopping.

In the midst of the locals a few foreigners, some more obvious than others, could be picked out from the crowd. Here and there an Australian accent cut through the ruckus. Occasionally the sounds of people talking in proper Queens English came from taller Europeans here and there. Through it all a man wearing a black hat strode with definite purpose.

"G1 this is G5, G1 this is G5."

"Ito bang prutas ay hinog?"

"G1, G1, come in Chief."

Sighing, the man in the hat stopped and leaned up against a tree. He was tall, well-built, and out of place for the heat of the area, wore mostly black from his hat to his trousers. Only his shirt, a mottled gray color, stood out from the rest. Even the light windbreaker he wore was black.

Taking a glance around the man talked to no one in particular, "What's going on, any changes?"

"There you are Chief." that high-pitched voice in his ear spoke back, "We're getting cross chatter from multiple sources in your area and we've been just trying to clean it up."

The Chief nodded to no one in particular. He absent-mindedly scratched his throat with a thumb, sending a noise to the tiny microphone implanted therein. His receiver, implanted near his ear, crackled in reply.

The man reached into his windbreaker and pulled out a book that was slightly smaller than a dime novel. He smiled and looked appraisingly at the author's name, Ehsan Yarshater, in gold lettering on the spine, then nodded and put it away in favor of a smart phone.

"G5, confirm target location." he said, thumbing up the image of a man, a middle easterner by his complexion. There were multiple images of the man, who was always dressed as if he was going to work, in different groups of people, many of them with guns.

"He's still up at the cement works." the voice in his ear responded, "You were right. Spotters confirm other members of the Revolutionary Guard have secured the area."

"Thought they'd hole up there." the man said with a nod, "Good lines of sight, easy egress, and access to their target. Tell the *spotters* not to slip up."

"Don't worry, she won't." the voice advised with a serious tone, "You'd better change into kit, but G1 are you sure about this. I know it's you Chief but twenty-five well-trained, armed, men… they're very serious customers and you're barely armed. You might as well be walking up to them and tweaking their noses."

"Handle your own concerns G5, you just keep on the sat and cam feeds. I'll handle my own job."

The land sung out with the rumble of heavy equipment. Dump trucks, pay loaders and bulldozers trundled their way past buildings full of complex machinery and covered in rock dust. Beyond them a strip mine stood out past the trees like a yellow scar in the mountainside. Cleared out of the thick Philippine forests the buildings, vehicles and dirty yellow-white roads stole their land from nature. Looking like nothing less than a wound in the planet the area surrounding the Cement factory stood as conclusive proof of how highly natural beauty stood in mankind's eye when money was involved. The world paid more for concrete under their feet than for forests cleaning their air, so the forests had to go, in patches, and the Earth had to be ripped and raped, in plots, for human progress.

The cement works itself was huge. Along with its corresponding strip mine there was more than a mile of bare dirt and rock in the middle of the forest. At the South end tall buildings and cement processing equipment stood out, looming over even the tallest trees, while two long buildings nearly the size of large strip malls sat along the Eastern side near the woods.

Atop the Easternmost building, running with both and unusually fast and incredibly silent gait, was a single lone figure. Dashing down the slope of the roof he leapt off it, across a thin access road, and onto the next building without making a sound.

Dropping down like a second skin on his new perch the Chief looked for his next placement. He'd planned things out from satellite map but avoiding lines of sight was more of a problem for the here and now. To fit in to the whitish-gray buildings and soil he'd changed clothes to a gray t-shirt and loose-fitting urban camo pants. His light complexion and blonde hair seemed to be helping as well, though he'd chosen his path to avoid line of sight so precisely he probably could have worn bright pink without attracting attention.

Slipping down onto the covered platforms over the conveyor system he slipped quickly along the skyway. He had to be careful, far more than usual, since there was no cover up on the roof and none of these places were really designed to hold human weight for more than occasional maintenance. Quiet movement hadn't been in the design plans either and keeping quiet over what was basically sheet metal was taxing his skills.

"You're right that there's only one guard at the chosen entry." G5 was speaking in his ear, "But he's probably more there to lead people out in case of emergency instead of stopping anyone from getting in. That building is a warren of hazards, choking dust, limited visibility, and blind turns with no clear map. No one's getting in that way."

The Chief smiled and nodded. He knew the spotters could see the motion and it would relay back to the screens. Catching him in real-time from overhead would be much harder, but they couldn't really tell a nod from orbit anyway.

He could be a little less silent on the approach as his path took him over a number of loud vehicles and even louder machinery. It still took him a while to get over all the long buildings and lower himself down, unseen above the guard. The man on duty looked positively bored as he looked from side to side, keeping an eye on the plant workers, though he obviously didn't see them as a threat for as little time he gave them, and gave occasional scrutiny to the vehicles that passed.

"This one's going to be hard." G5 warned in his ear, "He's hard to see on sat and the spotters say he doesn't move around much. Watch for his weapon hidden behind him, if he gets a shot off…"

CLUNK!

"You are the luckiest son of a bitch…" G5 groaned with only a hint of envy, "How the hell did you get him to fall like that? He just looks like he's asleep."

The Chief shook his head as he peeked into the door way from the top, then bothered to speak to the voice in his ear with a few quick words that were so sub-vocalized they never passed his lips "That's the point."

"Yeah yeah, some days you make this look to easy you know." G5 said with a pout in his voice.

The Chief had already disappeared into the building, crawling in upside down in a very non-military sanctioned movement that would have done a gecko proud.

"Good luck Hawkins."