Part XIII: Introducing Mayte Jabari... The Fast and The Furious

"You're still awake." the woman observes, in a somewhat sophisticated tone of voice. Tyr, still under the influence of his initial shock, could only summon up this excuse, "I... I heard voices out here."

"I am very sorry about that." she apologizes. "I was just being debriefed by Lysandra. You see, I was away for a little while on a mission she sent me on and I had just gotten back tonight. Right when I walked in the compound, I was told that I was to stand guard over you and your friends." That was the confirmation that Tyr was seeking, although it fell way short of what he had first expected.

"Then, you are...?" he begins to inquire.

Her full lips curl into a smile. With an extended arm and the upmost confidence, she answers with, "Mayte Jabari... at your service, Mister... Anasazi, is it?" He just stands there silently observing her. She can feel his eyes penetrating right through her. There is something in his glare that suggests a level of discontentment and she calls him on it. "Is there something the matter?"

"What ever gave you that idea?" he answered, rather sarcastically.

"Being the soldier that I am, I just happen to have this uncanny ability to read people." she says, just as sarcastically. "Now, are you going to tell me the real reason you're out here or do you want to hear why I think you are?"

"Enlighten me." he says, almost to the point of demanding her.

"In a very strange and Nietzschean kind of way, this is the equivalent of a job interview, am I right? You want to know my capabilities and if I'm to be trusted. I just knew that your feelings of skepticism would get you out here to see me at some point especially since no Nietzschean I know would blindly put their lives into the hands of a stranger. Hell, I even timed you." She starts giggling as she's peering at her timepiece. "You, my friend, popped out a little later than I expected." Tyr is not entirely clear on what this woman is finding amusing and begins to grow a little irate.

"Well, since you have this "uncanny ability" to read people, tell me... what am I thinking now?" he demands, as he places his face directly in front of hers and his voice gets dangerously low in volume. Sensing his irritation and without flinching in the slightest, she offers this answer, "You want to tear off my clothes and make mad, passionate love to me?" Tyr scoffs at her in disgust. He's never met such a unruly and childish character... well, other than Harper that is.

"Are you insane?" he asks, trying his best not to lose his temper. "Do you find any of this remotely amusing?!"

She tries to suppress her laughter by covering her mouth, but is finding it very difficult. Especially since the angrier he gets, the funnier she thinks it is. She coughs, and sputters a little before she manages to finally control herself. "My goodness, I'm sorry for carrying on the way I am, but every time something like this happens, I just can't help myself." She has completely lost him. "Something like what happens?" he asks, puzzled.

"When overconfident Nietzschean males think they've gotten me all figured out." she explains, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "I usually take great pleasure in proving them wrong and you will be no exception."

"If I didn't know better, I would swear that sounded a lot like a threat." he says, sternly as he rises to his feet.

"Of course this isn't a threat." she replies, coyly as she rises to hers. "But, if I were you, I'd heed it more as a caution."

Tyr watches her as she stands up and is now getting a better look at her. She looks like she's around twenty-three or twenty-four years old, about five feet and six inches tall, a rich honey brown complexion, heart-stealing deep, dark, round mahogany eyes, full pouty lips, a slight waist, the complete plethora of her curly, copper colored hair, and all of it brought together with the most dangerous curves found in her breasts and hips. He had to admit that he is extremely taken with her striking beauty, but he had to put his hidden admiration aside. This was about his life and his honor. The Kodiaks are about to go to war in a week's time and from what he gathers, this disrespectful and defiant young girl is supposedly the pride's one true hope. "Preposterous!" he thought to himself.

Just to give her a taste of her own medicine, he lets out a hearty laugh at her quote/unquote "heed of caution". She doesn't appear to be shaken at all by this as she stands and stares at him, motionless. "Child, why don't you just retire to your quarters. I will guard the room for the rest of the night." he suggests as he seats himself in her chair. He's looks up at her, almost daring her to say one objectionable word against his decision. Initially, she does look almost disappointed by his actions for some reason but, to his dismay, she doesn't object. Instead, she is acting most agreeably. "As you wish, Mr. Anasazi." she answers in a rather stern manner. "Whatever you think is best."

Giving him the most vehemently piecing glare, she saunters off down the corridor. Just as she is about to round the corner into her room she turns to him and asks, "One question, Mr. Anasazi...do you believe in God?"

"Every Nietzschean knows that God is dead." he proclaims with the upmost certainty.

"That's a pity... because in a few minutes, you're going to be praying for His help. Good night." And with that, she disappears into her room. He tries not to let her message of impending doom get the better of him.

After his strange and interesting encounter with Mayte, the rest of the night is rather uneventful. The day was long and his body was still tired, so it didn't take long for him to shut his eyes and surrender to the sleep that has crept up on him.

All of a sudden, he feels something being slipped over his head, like a cloth bag and the touch of many hands all over him. He struggles because he can barely breathe through the material and the hands all start to hurt him... punching, scratching, and clawing at him, along with the sounds of overlapping voices screaming, "Pick him up! We'll take him to the surface!" All at once, the hands grab him around his arms and legs, lifting him out of the chair and are carrying him to the elevator. He can tell without seeing the faces of his assailants that he is clearly outnumbered, but the knowledge of this fact does not stop him from trying as hard as he possibly can to get away.

The elevator carrying Tyr and the mysterious hands finally reaches the surface and the night immediately embraces them like a sable blanket. If it was not for the full moon shining down on them, the jungle would be a terrifying shade of pitch black. Not that any of this would have made a difference considering that Nietzscheans are genetically engineered with superior sight, including being able to see in complete darkness. The moonlight shown through the surrounding trees and lit the way for them as they are heading for a very large clearing and positions Tyr in the very middle of it. With a quick jerk, the hood is taking off his head and he is now seeing his attackers for the first time.

There are about 20 or 30 Kodiak young males circling him ranging from about 15 to 25 years of age. As Tyr is standing in their moonlit "coliseum", he is noticing all of the typical attributes of strength, chiseled physiques, towering heights, etc. Everything any well-bred Nietzschean male has and he knows that in a few seconds, they will all be trying to tearing him to pieces. Just as Tyr finishes assessing his situation, the ringleader of the group steps forward... a towering dark-skinned, extremely muscular male in his mid 20's. His eyes are hidden behind a pair of dark shades.

"I am Daray Gautier... out of Kacela by Caibre. You were the one that gave my father the slash on his face and humiliated him, uber!" his voice thunders in a tone that seems almost demonic.

Not appearing to be shaken by the mob, he answers the angry youth by saying, "Well, I can't exactly help the fact that your father is clearly inferior." Tyr apparently strikes a nerve because just behind Daray, another young man steps forward to personally shut his mouth, but is motioned to by the ringleader to stay put.

"Not now, Kael," he commands, "we'll wait for his friends to join him." Not long after his orders are said, more young men are ascending up the elevator. Twisting and squirming around in their grasps are the hooded bodies of Dylan and Trance. Tyr immediately tries to run to their rescue only to get a forearm to the face and a boot to the ribs for his efforts. Both impacts reintroduce the old pain he was feeling earlier and incapacitates him for a short while. He begins to worry that he's not at 100% and that he might not be able to fend the mob off for long, but this doesn't stop him from throwing his hat in the ring. Still on his knees just as Daray is standing over him, Tyr strikes the youth directly in the abdomen and while doubling over in pain, grabs him by the neck and flips him over landing him on his back. Following his lead, Dylan somehow removes the hood from off of his head and breaks free from his abductors. Now, back to back in the moonlit clearing, keeping the mob at bay, Dylan and Tyr face their newest threat head on.

"Isn't this a noble gesture. Friends to the end, I suppose?" Daray observes, laughing.

"This will definitely an ending, but not for us." Dylan declares.

"That's very bold statement, especially considering the odds you're up against."

"Nothing we can't handle."

"I guess we'll have to find out how if that's true, won't we. Kael... kill them!" The two are surrounded and are instantly engulfed by the angry mob. In their weakened conditions, they knew they could do very little in their defense and just as they are about to have their worst fears realized, a shadowy figure emerges from the darkness and speaks directly to the crowd.

"Now, I can't allow that to happen." the figure proclaims, stepping into the light. It's Mayte. Somehow, the two men do not feel relieved by her presence, especially Dylan, considering this is his first time he's ever laid eyes on her.

"This has nothing to do with you, Jabari!" Daray exclaims.

Like a sleek lioness stalking her prey, she begins circling the young man. "On the contrary, Daray, this has much to do with me. Now, are you going to let them alone or do I have to show you the error of you and your siblings' ways?" He couldn't believe her sheer audacity. It was almost laughable.

"You know, Jabari, I think you are starting to believe your own hype." he laughs, trying to deflate the air out of her threat. "You can beat maybe 10 or 15 men at the most, but I know that you can't beat all 30 of us. There's just no way."

"We'll just have to see, won't we." she declares. "Take them out of the middle and put me in instead."

"Done." Tyr and Dylan are immediately recaptured and drug out of the "arena" and are moved to the sidelines. The moonlight shows through the surrounding trees and lights the way for Mayte as she heads for a very large clearing and positions herself in the very middle of it. She looks as if she's standing on a huge stage with someone showing a larger than life spotlight on her. The way it all illuminates through her reddish-brown hair and around her curvaceous body make her, in Daray's own opinion, quite a captivating sight rather than an intimidating one. "She would make an excellent mate for someone." he thinks to himself. "It's a shame to have to bloody that beautiful face."

Circling around her like sharks in a tank, Daray, along with the other Kodiak males, begin closing in on Mayte. She takes in a deep cleansing breath, balls up both of her tiny fists and with the force stronger than anything he could have possibly imagined, delivers a double punch directly in the center of his chest, sending him literally flying several feet backwards. He has never felt pain like this in his entire life. He couldn't catch his breath because it felt like his ribs have caved in and lungs had just collapsed. He looks up at her as she is somersaulting backwards in his direction. He finally gets back on his feet but before he could do or say anything, she delivers two roundhouse kicks to the side of his head which felt even worse than the punch. He is staggering all about, reeling in pain. He was caught off guard at first but his surfacing anger gives him the strength to try to defend himself. He offers his own contribution to their battle only to have his efforts fail miserably. She delivers some of the same to the others that are surrounding her, cutting them down like a forest of trees. Each of her blows more devastating than the last.

The three captives sit on the ground tied to one another, staring at her in awe. They cannot believe what it is they're witnessing. Her fighting style is unlike anything they have every seen from anyone, male or female, Nietzschean or human. She's lightning fast almost to the point of it seeming like there was more than one of her. Every punch or kick any of the men tries to inflict on her would either hit air or would be blocked with effortless speed. Her furious attack is gravity defying, even for a Nietzschean. Diving over and around them, rolling under and away from them without showing any signs of slowing down or stopping. The mob becomes easily frustrated because they just cannot keep up with her astonishing acrobatics.

Mayte sees all of the men crawling away to safety... weary, injured, thwarted or unconscious. All, except Daray because now he running on pure hate. With every ounce of strength left, he delivers a devestating jump kick that smashes into her sternum, sends her crashing to the ground, leaving her lying flat on her back. Now, she's the one who can barely breathe, reeling in pain. She gives him such a look. It isn't anger, fear, or even hatred... she looks astonished and almost insulted. She lets out a low jaguar-like growl and does a kip up to her feet. The fire in her eyes could almost burn him alive. She leaps through the air and with her leg extended, preparing a powerful jump kick to connect with Daray's face. He quickly ducks out of the way just as her kick splinters the tree behind him, turning it into a shell of its former self. The force of the blow could qualify, in his case, as a near-death experience.

Growing tired of dodging and ducking away from her, out of pure desperation, Daray draws his gun out on her. Without so much as breaking a stride, she spin kicks the gun out of his hand and with her fully extended leg that stretched straight up in the air, pins him to a tree with a boot heel to his neck. She slowly increases the pressure to his neck, slowly cutting off his air. He begins to see red spots in front of his eyes due to the lack of oxygen.

"Daray, I know you don't want to die right now, so this is a warning." she declares, in a low but firm tone of voice. "Underestimating me is a very deadly mistake... try not to make that mistake again." She presses her boot in harder and just as he is about to lose consciousness, she removes her foot and lets his oxygen deprived body crash to the ground. The young man is on his hands and knees, coughing profusely, trying to catch his breath.

Mayte, grabbing a knife out of her weapons belt, turns to the three crew mates tied together on the ground. She cuts Dylan and Trance loose and just as she is about to do the same for Tyr, she leans down to his ear and whispers, "That goes for you too, Anasazi."