A note on pronunciation...you're going to encounter the word Draugh this chapter, which I'm pronouncing like a nice cross between "draw" and "drow." At least, it sounds good in my head, anyway...

Also, thanks to the readers who are sticking with me and thanks for the reviews! The chapters seem to be working well for you all and the events of the story are doing what I want them to, so thanks for the encouragement! I'm glad I can give you a few gasps and chuckles along the way ;)

Session Ten

The island was quiet. If Leon were being cliche, his next thought would be "too quiet." Something between a grin and a grimace tugged at the corner of his mouth. He readjusted the grip on his pistol and fell a step or two behind Jet, keeping an eye on their surroundings. Apart from a few birds rustling through the trees, there was no sign of any life on the island. Although, aside from humans, Leon figured birds were the only creatures that could get to a terraform island on their own. Already he had a million and one questions about the island.

It took about ten minutes of walking through dense undergrowth to reach the buildings. Jet and Leon stopped at the edge of the treeline to scope them out. There was a cluster of three or four buildings in the center of what was once a large clearing. But instead of the usual atmosphere converters found on the terraform islands, these buildings looked ancient. They were made mostly of white stone, with some mosaic work along their edges. They were dome shaped, with tall front porches and columns. The biggest building sat off the ground and had a sprawling staircase leading up to its front porch. The other buildings were smaller with only three or four steps to their porches.

"They look like temples," Leon whispered.

"Yeah, but temples to what?" Jet wondered.

Leon shrugged. "Does Venus worship any ancient gods?"

It was Jet's turn to shrug. "Who knows, but it's perfect for keeping illegal drugs. Not likely anybody would stumble up here by accident."

Leon nodded. "So, big one first?"

"Might as well," Jet agreed.

Leon stepped out of the tree line, keeping low. There was only about ten feet between the temples and the tree line, but that was ten feet without cover. However, just like landing on the island, they met with no resistance. He and Jet climbed the stairs, darting behind the columns on the porch like shadows. Still, no challenge. Nothing moved. Jet motioned at the double front doors. Leon nodded. Jet slunk up and sidled along the wall until he could shove one of the doors open with his foot. The door swung open with the soft scuff of loose debris and the whine of ancient hinges. No gunfire. Jet peered around the corner. Leon covered him from the pillar.

After a few tense moments, Jet motioned to Leon and Leon joined him at the door. The two walked inside. The inside of the temple was breathtaking. Open porticos beneath what had been a domed ceiling allowed starlight to filter into the temple. Pillars lined the walls on the inside of the building, reminding Leon of ancient Greek architecture. Statues stood between the pillars, massive warriors over twenty feet tall holding upthrust spears. At one time, the warriors supported the ceiling, but now many of them were cracked and broken, missing spears and arms, and most of the ceiling had collapsed. One of the warrior's heads had fallen off at some point and lay half-shattered in the middle of the floor.

"This place is amazing," Leon murmured, walking towards the warrior's head. The only sound in the derelict temple was the crunch of debris under his boots.

Jet nodded in agreement, but there was a tight tilt to his shoulders. "I don't like it."

"Aw, c'mon, Jet. There's nothing to worry about. I think we got the coordinates wrong. There's nobody here but a bunch of dusty statues."

"I don't trust them," Jet said, glaring at the statues like they might come to life.

"What, the statues?" Leon kicked at the warrior's head with his toe and winced when he knocked the nose off. It clattered to the floor, the sound echoing off the walls.

Jet glowered at him. Leon raised his hands in surrender.

"We're here for observation, not demolition," Jet scowled.

"Right." Leon put his heels together and gave Jet a salute. "Sorry, sir, it won't happen again, sir."

Jet chuckled despite himself. "Well, since we're here, I guess we oughta look around. Stay within sight, ok?"

"Yes, sir." Leon slid his pistol into his belt and bent down to examine the warrior's head more closely. He heard footsteps off to his left as Jet explored.

The statue was huge, its head alone almost three feet in diameter. Leon ran his finger along the warrior's face, tracing the outline of his wide-open eyes. He pulled his finger back in surprise. The eyes were gemstones! Crazy that they hadn't shattered when the head fell.

Clink. Thwump.

Leon stiffened. He paused and held his breath, listening. Silence. He looked over his shoulder for Jet, but couldn't see him. Leon cursed under his breath. "Whatever happened to stay in sight, old man?" He crouched lower beside the warrior's head and drew his pistol.

He whirled to his left when he heard the scuff of a footstep against the floor.

"Jet?" he called softly. No answer.

"Jet, that's not funny, dammit," he said, but he was whispering now, a cold finger of dread slipping its way down his spine.

He was in clear view of anyone else who might be in the temple, crouched in the brightest part of the room and outlined by the pale warrior's head behind him. He backed toward the edge of the room slowly, near crawling on his hands and knees. He stood up only when he was in the shadows and peered into the dark corners of the temple.

Ca-chink.

Leon started. That was a distinctly metal sound. A distinctly gun sound. If it was Jet, he wasn't speaking, which meant he'd found something hostile in the temple. If it wasn't Jet, then there was something hostile in the temple. Leon worked his way around the room toward the front doors. He felt his skin crawl as cold sweat traced its way under his collar.

If he could get to the doors, he had a chance of slipping into the woods and calling Faye for back up. He didn't have his own radio. He and Jet only brought one and Jet was carrying it, so his only hope was to run back to the ships. He felt his back hit the wall and he started to edge his way toward the doors when they suddenly slammed shut. Leon jumped and bit his tongue, tasting blood. He spat.

"Leaving so soon?" A man's voice asked. It came from the middle of the temple. For lack of a better position, Leon put his back to the doors and faced the temple. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't place a finger on it.

"Where's Jet?" Leon demanded.

"Who?" the man sounded genuinely puzzled.

Perhaps Jet had sensed something before Leon and was lying low somewhere in the temple. Or the man was lying.

"Nevermind," Leon muttered. "Who are you?"

"You don't recognize me?" the voice sounded hurt.

"Should I?" Leon asked.

He heard the scuff of footsteps again and a man stepped from the shadows and stopped by the warrior's head. It was the gray-haired man from the pier. Leon was pleased to note that his nose was not as straight as before. He wore a tailored suit beneath a long black overcoat trimmed in gold. His hands were in his pockets. "You ought to," he said, smiling. "I tried to teach you how to throw a punch."

Leon scowled. "You tried to kill me," he accused. He was proud of the fact that his gun didn't waver.

The man shook his head. "A simple misunderstanding. Forgive me," he sketched a bow. "I was merely attempting to detain you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Leon growled.

"Perhaps." The man shrugged. "But come now, let's be civil. Put the gun down, boy. I'm only here to offer you a proposition."

"I don't believe you." Leon took a few steps forward so that his pistol stood out starkly in the starlight, but his body was still in shadow.

"Suit yourself," the man sat down on the warrior's head. Leon fingered the trigger when he pulled his hands out of his pockets, but all he was holding was a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He grinned at Leon and pulled a cigarette from the pack. He tilted the pack toward Leon, offering him one, but Leon shook his head. The man shrugged and put the cigarette in his mouth. He cupped his hands around it as he lit it, then slipped the pack and lighter back in his pockets. Smoke curled lazily out of his mouth as he breathed.

"Now," he spoke as if the two were discussing nothing more than a game of shogi. "I'd prefer to have this conversation without staring down the barrel of a gun. Perhaps you'd like to behave like a civilized man and put it down?"

"Like hell I would. I don't trust you."

The man sighed and raised his eyes. "You young cowboys are all skittish. So dramatic...just like your father."

Leon paused. His gun dropped a little. "You knew my father?"

"Of course I did," the man smiled as if at some fond memory. "Or did your newfound crew forget to tell you he was Syndicate?"

"They told me."

"Well, I doubt they mentioned me, but I was once good friends with your father. I mentored him in the Syndicate. The name's Draugh."

"I take it you already know my name, so I guess we're acquainted," Leon said.

"I know you're a Spiegel."

"We'll leave it at that."

"Not a friendly type, are you?" Draugh knocked his loose ashes on the warrior's head.

"Not with men who try to kill me, no."

"Have it your way, then."

"So was it your man at the pharmacy that sent me here?" Leon decided to switch tactics. They came here to find information so he might as well try to find some.

Draugh grinned. "You could say that. By the way, I want to congratulate you on your little scheme at The Lion's Den."

"How do you know about that?"

"My dear boy, who do you think is orchestrating the sales of this Dragon's Eye?"

"The Syndicate!" Leon would have smacked himself in the forehead if he wasn't holding a pistol.

"Naturally. That little tagline you gave Andross about rebuilding a Syndicate was more accurate than you realized."

No wonder Andross had such nice stuff, Leon thought. He's not being supplied by some random vigilante. And we walked right into it!

"What about Villanova then?" Leon asked.

"What about her?"

"Is she a real bounty?"

"Of course she is. How else do you think we lured you cowboys?"

Leon ignored the remark. "Is she the Gray Ash supplier?"

"Right again."

"Let me guess, she's Syndicate too."

"Three for three, boy."

Leon cringed at being called boy. Just then, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A man, moving in the shadows behind Draugh. It was Jet! Leon quickly focused on Draugh again. Draugh seemed to believe Jet wasn't here. Or at least, wasn't going to interfere. If Leon could keep him talking, then Jet could get the drop on him.

"Why are you telling me all this?" Leon asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there's only two reasons the bad guy reveals his master plan," Leon said, lowering his gun so he could hold up two fingers. "One," he put down one finger. "Because you're going to kill me. Or two, because you want me to join you. And if that's the case, there's my answer." Leon made sure Draugh could see his solitary finger.

Jet crept closer.

Draugh laughed. "Cheeky, aren't you? I'm not here to kill you. However, I will admit, I am hoping to recruit you."

"Why would I want to join you?" Leon asked.

"Well, we make infinitely more money than a cowboy, for one."

"Yeah, on other people's misfortune."

"You're no different. You think your bountyheads enjoy getting bagged?"

"They deserve it," Leon snorted. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jet pause.

"As do the people we exploit. The world's made up of people clambering to the top of the ladder, boy, and the only way to make it to the top is to stand on the shoulders of the other poor souls."

"You're wrong, Draugh. You and your Syndicate. My father wiped you guys out for a reason. Why would you want me to join you anyway? Shouldn't you hate me?"

"Hate is a thing of the past," Draugh waved his hand in the air dismissively, trailing cigarette smoke. "Your father was one of the Syndicate's best assets. In fact, before he betrayed us, he was on a one-way track to lead the Dragon. We believe you show the same talent and discipline. And we're willing to let bygones be bygones and welcome you back into the fold. Think about it. You stand on your father's reputation already. Prove your loyalty to the Syndicate, and you'll be on the fast track to leadership. You could hold the galaxy in the palm of your hand."

"So, I'd make a lot of money?" Leon asked. From over Draugh's shoulder, Jet gave Leon a puzzled look.

"Naturally," Draugh smiled.

"And I'd get to run the Dragon my way?"

"Well, after you become its head, yes."

"And you'll apologize for everything that happened on the pier, right?"

"Of course. What happened at the pier was a mistake."

"It was," Leon agreed. "But what happened the night my father wiped you guys out wasn't." He narrowed his eyes. "It was done before, it can be done again."

"You don't even know your father," Draugh's smile turned sour.

"I know enough to know that the Syndicate shouldn't exist!"

Jet was only a few feet behind Draugh now, crouched behind a pile of debris. Leon gave him a subtle nod.

"You don't know anything about the Syndicate, boy!" Draugh stood up, clearly agitated.

"Maybe not," Leon conceded. "But I know you're not as smart as you think you are."

Jet lunged.

Draugh heard his footfalls on the floor and turned a moment before Jet barreled into him, ramming him full in the chest with his metal shoulder. Draugh shouted and went down with Jet on top, the two men wrestling across the floor. Before Leon could react, he heard movement behind him and whirled to see the doors opening. He threw himself to the side as two men charged through the double doors. Both wore black and gold jackets. They took only a moment to assess the situation before pulling out guns of their own.

Leon didn't hesitate. He shot the man closest to him. He went down with a surprised grunt and his partner turned to face Leon. Leon was surprised to find that he wasn't any older than himself. He was not surprised when the youth returned fire. Leon dove behind the closest pillar as bullets hit the wall. He leaned out and shot back, but the youth had already hidden himself and his bullets hit nothing but stone. Leon ducked back and got an eye on Jet and Draugh. Jet was still on top, and neither man currently had a gun. Leon had no doubt that Jet could hold his own in a fist fight, but he didn't want the other Syndicate member to get involved.

I'm an idiot, he thought to himself. He jumped out from behind the pillar and ran across the floor toward Jet.

As he did, he caught movement behind another pillar across the room and saw the youth take aim.

"Jet! Look out!" he yelled, aiming his own pistol.

Leon pulled the trigger.

He saw the youth's mouth open in a perfect "O" of surprise as blood sprouted from his chest. And then Leon stumbled to a halt as something ripped into his right shoulder, half-slinging him around and dropping him to one knee. He dropped his gun as blood slithered down his arm. Pain knifed into his chest, solid and hot.

"Leon!" Jet shouted.

"I'm ok!" Leon swallowed the pain and jerked to his feet, clutching his shoulder. Jet had Draugh pinned to the warrior's head with his mechanical arm against Draugh's thoat. Leon saw a gun resting on the floor a few feet away. It wasn't Jet's Walther, so it must've been Draugh's. Draugh was gasping for breath, but Jet was focused on Leon. Draugh slowly slipped one hand into his coat and Leon remembered the knife.

"Jet, look out for the-"

Draugh pulled the blade from his pocket and sunk it deep into the joint of Jet's metal arm. Jet roared in frustration as the arm hissed and fell limp by his side.

"...knife," Leon finished weakly.

Using the warrior's head as leverage, Draugh leaned back and kicked Jet, catching him in the chest. Jet fell back, coughing. Draugh looked up and locked eyes with Leon. They both had the same thought - go for the gun. Leon ran toward Draugh's gun at the same time Draugh threw his knife and buried it in Leon's already injured shoulder.

Leon screamed and staggered, sinking to his knees again. This time, he couldn't stop the tears. He grit his teeth against the lance of pain throbbing with every heartbeat. He put his hand to the hilt of the knife, but he knew better than to pull it out.

Draugh laughed as he reached his gun and snatched it up. "You should have accepted my offer, cowboy. It would have gone easier on you."

Leon took a ragged breath. "I...don't want...to join...your stupid Syndicate," he panted.

Draugh shook his head. "You don't get it, do you?" he swung around and pointed his gun at Jet, who had just recovered his feet.

"Don't...do it...Draugh," Leon hissed.

"And who's going to stop me?"

Just then what remained of the ceiling crashed down with a tremendous rumble as Faye's Redtail sped into the temple. Jet, Leon, and Draugh all scrambled towards the nearest cover. Faye opened fire, shattering the warrior's head. Draugh shouted and covered his face as pieces of stone raked him.

Leon threw himself behind a pillar once again. His breath came in haphazard gasps, sweat dripping down his face. His limbs refused to work and he collapsed against the pillar, sliding into a heap on the floor. Dust and stone rained down around him to the steady rat-tat-tat-tat of the Redtail's guns. He tried to get a deep breath, but between the debris and the pain interrupting his every thought, he came up short. In the dust and gunfire, a figure appeared and grabbed him by his uninjured shoulder. "C'mon, kid, or Faye's going to blow us all to hell and back."

Leon sagged in relief. It was Jet. Jet hauled him to his feet.

Leon sank into cold darkness as Jet half-dragged, half-carried him out of the temple and into the woods.