40

Though Tara wasn't surprised in the least by Robin's answer, she was however taken slightly aback when the girl turned the gun on her! Rage was within those eyes, she could practically see the flames break, lapping at the top of the muddy irises. The dark index pulled away from her behind the trigger guard - a -click-!

Yune breathed out a little easier.

The pistol slammed against the bar-top by an angry hand, scraping against the grain as Robin shoved it back to her.

"How dare you!" The corners of Robin's lips dropped dramatically into a frown. "I am not one of the VSA! I am not the Major! Who do you take me for, Tara?"

A smirk.

"What are you smiling about?" the girl demanded. "This is no laughing matter! How dare you compare me to those lunatics and their heretical fervor!"

"You do not truly know someone until you fight them." She said collectedly. "As corny as it sounds, it's really true! You were honest, just like I hoped. Now that I seen your darker side, I can tell that you are a real deal!"

Robin's eyes boggled again.

"Have you lost it, Tara?" the girl asked. "You were lucky that gun was not loaded, or you would have been killed!"

"She's right, T." Yune agreed. "Enough people have died over the past several days - enough for one lifetime, at least! Be thankful the gun wasn't loaded, or the support team would be a man short! It maybe acceptable to Mossad and their standards, but not by mine! You got that, T?"

"Understand that perfectly, Yune." She nodded as her hands went back up her skirt. Her fingers touched another piece of metal, flat and thin, smooth as she took it into her pinch. Rounds rattled when she pulled it out, flipping it collectedly around in her palm. "Why do you think I popped out the magazine in the first place? I'm beginning to think those blonde jokes are rubbing off on you. Then you'll really lose sight of the woman you're going to marry!"

"I'm just telling you how it is, T." Four hard legs tapped onto the floor simultaneously when the Asian went to pick the chair up. "That's all."

"And do not get me confused with those vigilantes!" She looked; Robin in the midst of crossing her arms gruffly. "I am not ready to sell my soul to the Devil over a trite act such as revenge! It is a response brought about by the onset of a fleeting emotion, not worth risking my soul for eternal damnation.

"Do not get me wrong; I am upset over this tragedy - this travesty. I am upset with Yune, but I can say with clarity that he was not responsible for Shia's demise. Of course, he had triggered the event that brought about his demise, but in the end it was Shia himself. Yune tried to get him his medicine, but Shia utterly refused! I know this, and knew it when he slapped the medicine away."

"But why do it?" she asked. "Why throw everything away?"

"Guilt?" Yune shrugged. "It must have finally caught up with him."

"No." Robin's ponytail swept gently with a shake of her head. "I believe there was more to it than that. If a guilty conscious had really haunted him so, he would have died a long time of ago by his own hands. It couldn't have just been that, there had to have been a better cause, and I think I know what that cause is."

"And what would that be?" She asked.

Out came a sigh, and then a drop of her head.

"Me…."

"I see…." Yune said. "It makes sense, in a reductionism kind of way."

It was clear that she was missing something; it must have gone over her head like a party balloon when she wasn't looking.

"You?" she blinked. "He chose death because of you?"

"In a matter of speaking," the girl nodded gently, barely, "I believe that is correct."

"What the heck are you talking about?"

"Is it really so hard to believe, T?" Yune asked her back. "That difficult to wrap your brain around? Despite earlier encounters and the utter shit he did, Shia really wasn't that bad of a guy after all."

"What?" her eyes practically crossed.

"Tara, we're talking about a man who'd choose death to protect the lives of the ones he truly loved." Yune said. "If he really wasn't, Robin would surely be sleeping under a white blanket by now, all at the Major's despicable request. Though why'd he start disobeying now is anybody's guess."

"Because I was collateral, Yune." Robin replied. "A way of making him do whatever the Major wanted, no matter how cruel or grotesque!"

Robin's hands contrasted definitely with the color of her shirt, fingering the buttons through thin eyes. She turned her head over her shoulder; Yune properly stared at the table as he wiped it clean. Her brow kinked severely as the dark girl slipped the last button free.

"Um…?" she was at a shortage for words. "What're you doing…?"

"Look at this!" Robin replied, the white flaps parting from a field of dark brown. "Both of you, if you don't mind."

"Just as long as you keep yourself in check, Rob." She said firmly. "This isn't Mardi Gras, let alone Bourbon Street!"

"Do not worry, Tara." Robin tucked those flaps behind her. "Exhibition is not my style AT ALL!"

Robin had a streak of cream in her coffee, a line of finer skin trailed down the middle of the girl's chest, to her belly where it stopped abruptly at the waist of Robin's skirt. Just by the look of it, it couldn't have simply stopped there. Impulsively she reached over, touching the pads of her fingers to the line. Robin looked away. Her skin crawled, throat tight as that line pushed back at her finger all the way down its length.

"Never had I felt so violated…." The African sniffed.

"My God…." She felt her Heineken bubble back up her throat. "What happened?"

"You have heard it too, I believe." Robin said. "About the brutal death of that billionaire?"

"Philippe Bullion?" Yune said. "Bonnet was behind it, from what I heard."

"And how do you think Shia agreed to it?" Robin said. No points awarded for the lucky guess.

"Drazen…?" Yune blinked. "He did this?"

"I told you I was collateral." Robin replied. "This scar proves it. I was with Shia at the time, sort of like a vacation. How wrong, was I. Shia did not have the heart to carry it out; he did not want to. But his employer changed his mind quickly. Two of his brutes took to my arms, binding them tightly. They tore my shirt! The Major himself walked up to me, his angled blade clenched in his hands - and slowly, he—!"

"Oh man…!" she winced, backing away.

"Indeed, friend." Robin sniffed again. "The heretic is a fiend! He enjoys watching people suffer, especially those whom he deems as unworthy. He probably pleasures himself while he thinks about it."

"So the baldness was apt after all." Yune mused ironically. "Just like the little skinhead he always was. Tristian apparently rubbed off on him."

"Indeed…."

A MIDI cut through the thick silence of the barroom, a whining tune so piercing and so loud that the composer himself probably popped his eardrums with a naked q-tip. Yune's hands dropped to his pants, patting the cloth roughly before one slipped into a pocket. A bending at his elbow reared his forearm back, the slim mobile pinched in his grasp.

"I'm beginning to hate this phone!" he cursed.

XXX

The phone stifled its screeching arrangement at the thumbing of the button, followed by a patch of rough static no longer than a measure when he pressed it against his head. Out from the receiver came a steady hum, the timbre feminine, pitch low like an alto. It wasn't static at all, he realized, when that drone morphed into intelligible syllables.

"Mr. Bin-Mok." Team Possible's favorite Agent-In-Charge replied. "Mr. Bin-Mok? This is Hershel calling."

"Really?" his reply came out bittersweet. "I thought it was Publisher's Clearing House, came to say that I've won a cool 10-mil!"

"Keep dreaming, Yune." Hershel sighed. "Frankly, I'll dream about that too! Go on a nice cruise; take a trip to Jupiter or something. I don't know - just as long as it's a nice sabbatical, far away from here."

"You sound beat." He noted.

"Tell me something I don't know." She said. "These past several days, they sucked the life out of me. I'm dryer than Ezekiel."

"Ezekiel?" he blinked. "Who's that?"

"Don't you know, Yune?" She asked rhetorically. "It's a biblical name, after all. The name is derived from Hebrew. Often in the book, the Lord calls him 'Son of Dust'. That's how I feel right about now. Dried up - shriveled like a raisin or a prune, waiting for the sun to bleach my bones white!"

His brow kinked. "A great and terrible apathy at being alive, are we?"

"Just about." She replied.

"Why are you down?" he asked. "I know this conflict is a drain. It's a drain on everyone, even to those a continent apart. Though the world feels like it's about to cave in, you should try at least to be hopeful. Did you think you would never see your homeland reborn, your language restored?"

"Yune." If the woman were in front of him, he was certain he'd see a stern frown. "I'm a native born Israeli. My mother was in the Six-Day War, serving as a nurse during the paratrooper operation to capture Jerusalem and the Temple Mount. She was pregnant at the time, and the intensity caused her to go into labor. She practically gave birth of the battlefield… a beautiful baby girl. I was that girl on June 8th, 1967.

"Israel's the only country I've ever known. I love… this country. I love this Holy Land, my home sweet home! I cannot bear the thought of having to live somewhere else, especially after what the people here have gone through! But I may have to bear it sooner than I thought. Dreams thrown to the wind, 'our bones are dry, our hope is lost, and we ourselves are cut off.'"

"Ezekiel 37, eh?" he said gently. "You people are reduced back to that already?"

"We might as well be." She said. "Another Diaspora; I can see it on the horizon. It won't be long before all nations are engulfed in conflict, and the world consumed the nuclear fire of war. We'll be crushed, our nation thrown to the wind once more. And that accursed nihilist will be at the center of it all!"

"Drazen…?" It came out of his mouth more as a curse than a question.

"The very same." She replied. "We should never have created him!"

"Created?" the kink on his brow fell halfway. He took in a collected breath, letting it out normally. Surprise blindsided him not, just a mere tap on the cheek as though he knew it all along. "I should have known…."

"You should have known?" the woman would have blinked should they have shared the same space. "-Dreckwe should have known! The rotten apple didn't fall far from the dead tree. How naïve we were with Col. Drazen and his methods. The Velvet Divorce, Yugoslavia, The Family Private Army: they were just phases to create the perfect weapon of genocide! We wanted a solider; what we got was a monster!"

"What is he…?" he asked. How little did he know indeed; Colonel Drazen's little boy truly was the stranger beside him.

"He?" she said. "He is Israel. Its opposite, its negative, the accursed -Amelek- we've fought against for every generation."

"What does he want?"

"He wants what he's always wanted since he was old enough to have thoughts of his own." She explained. "To twist all that is straight, to bend all that is upright. An end to it all, one way or another."

"Why?" he asked.

"Life has become purposeless in his eyes." She said. "He doesn't understand life - he CAN'T! To him, it is -the- enemy - the 'Devil', and those who relish in it must be accounted for and eventually terminated. In turn, that has become his purpose, to terminate and eradicate!"

"Pretty heavy stuff." He said suspiciously. "Why are you telling me this? Are you even on a secure line?"

"It doesn't matter anymore." He wasn't sure, maybe it was the static but he thought he heard a sniff. "We're as good as dead! Drazen has brought the whole world down on us. America has practically abandoned us! But you, you're different! You're American practically. Given our mistakes, it's not surprising that they'll listen to you more than they'll listen to us! Despite our best efforts to prove the contrary, the occupying forces will put us in collusion with Drazen while media the world over will slap on a fresh coat of paint! Our people will be scattered, and my peers and I'll most certainly be shipped to The Hague. No one will ever know…."

"Man, what're you on?" He shook his head. "Whatever you've been taking, reduce the dosage! What the hell's up, anyway?"

"Yune…!" she said gravely. "The siege weapon, it's launched."

"WHAT?" Robin and Tara looked over reactively.

"You heard me right." She said. "It launched, and it's on its way north now."

He was hesitant suddenly, a cold fear wrapping him with the tight, choking embrace of an anaconda.

"That means…!"

"Our satellite imagery caught a vehicle ahead of the weapon." She said. "It belongs to the VSA, but that could mean anything. Either the active element got out, or a group of potential defectors, or just another ploy by that snake in the grass. We can't take chances either way, so I decided to make my final move."

"What's that?" he frowned.

"Remember Gladius?" She said. "The USAF super-weapon that The Family was assigned to capture?"

"Yeah…?" he said drawly, his kink found its way back up again.

"Using the ZIP disk we got from your team," she replied, "we've activated it!"

"WHAT?" his eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Stealing US Government property? Are you INSANE?"

"The Navy had launched a tomahawk against it." Hershel sighed. "And like clockwork, Drazen had it shot down like it was child's play. Do not tell me different, Bin-Mok! Gladius -is- the only move we have left—!"

"HERSHEL!" he shouted.

"It's not directed to hit the ground." She said coolly, as though all was right with the encroaching world. "It is, however, directed to detonate the payload in the atmosphere above the Megiddo Valley."

"That's INSANE!" his eyes boggled. "That's SUICIDE!"

"No." she said. "We've already put the knife to our belly the moment we planned for Drazen's asylum, plunging it when the Prime Minster brought up this whole Temple Mount mess. This… is just the end of it. If we stop the weapon there, the end shouldn't come as harshly."

He growled.

"I've played my cards." She said gravely. "There's nothing left for me to do. But there is one thing that you can do, to reduce the amount of casualties for now."

"What do you want?" he said.

"Call the mayor's office." She said. "Tell him to issue a statement to the public, one that says all civilians, either Jew or Muslim, must stay in their homes for today - no matter what happens! See what you can do about postponing the ceremony while you're at it."

"Why can't you do it?" he asked.

"Mossad's stretched thin." She said. "All available resources have been relocated to Drazen and his encroaching army, not to mention keeping the Director from suggesting 'Samson' to the Prime Minister. I'm already expecting Shin Bet agents to come knocking at my door.

"With the division over this whole Temple Mount crap, the message wouldn't even reach the mayor through the regular channels. But I'll give you his direct number, and tell you what to say. No way his aides could terminate a call direct to his cell phone."

"Then what?" he said. "What should we do after that?"

"Nothing at all." She said. "Kim and Ron might as well be dead. Pack up and get out of the country ASAP. I can get you two on a plane at Ben-Gurion, and have you over international waters within a couple hours."

"No." he shook his head. "We can't go."

"What do you mean, you can't?" she said.

"Kim and Ron maybe gone, but you still got us!" he said. "Maybe we can help somehow!"

"Bin Mok!" she growled. "The mission is a failure! Pull out immediately!"

"No." he frowned.

"NO?" her yell was static in his ear. "This is an order, Bin-Mok! You will be on the plane, out of here NOW!"

"Later, Hershel." He dismissed with his thumb on the button, making it sink deep into the plastic. "We got work to do!"

"Don't you HANG UP ON ME—!"

He felt that button click softly under his thumb. The dim clock on the LCD had stopped its count, could not have cared less what the phone bill would shake him down tomorrow for when he easily dropped it inside the pocket of his pants. Hell - if Drazen even touched that mountain, defiled it with bloodied fingers or the sharp belly of the rapier, there wasn't going to be a tomorrow.

"Just another day at the office." A sigh passed through his frowned lips.

"What's up, Yune?" Tara inquired. He looked, and she gazed back at him warmly, as though all was right with the world. Ignorance is bliss; too true, it is. "What's going on? Did that Hershel lady get a run in her stocking?"

"As irritating as that is, Tara," Robin rested her head on her palms, "I do not believe that she would commit suicide over that. That is, unless of course she is a manic-depressive. Is that how you would say it? Or do you Americans use the term 'bi-polar'?"

"We can use both." The blonde shrugged. "But I don't really know what's her problem. Do you know, Yune? She sounds like she's about to shoot herself!"

"After what she said," he cocked his neck to a side, feeling the bones -POP-, "I wouldn't blame her."

"Well…?" Tara pressed with wide, expectant eyes. "What'd she say? Are you going to tell us?"

"Things are about to get interesting." He said. "Really damn quick."

Her pumps made a sharp -clack- on the floor when she slipped purposefully off the stool, a slow staccato of clicks on her elevated heels as she walked for him. A fine hand curled into a fist, the small knuckles pressing against her hip squarely.

"Don't stall, Yune!" she frowned gently. "Don't make me pull teeth! It's messy and you know I hate the sight of blood."

"You are actually going to pull out his teeth?" Robin blinked incredulously. "What on earth would that do? If you think he cannot tell you now, you are mad if you honestly believe that he can afterwards."

"It's an expression, Rob." She sighed. "Chill out."

"Oh." The dark girl blinked again. "Okay then."

"Again, what is going on?" she asked. "Tell me the truth!"

"Tara…." He didn't fight against gravity, letting it pull at his head till his chin rested a little above his collarbones. "Ron's failed."

"What…?" her eyelids parted a little wider.

"You heard me, T." he nodded. "The Major's ace-in-the-hole is in play. Ron failed his mission. Him and Kimberly are probably dead."

An abrupt gasp; the blonde reared herself back a step. "Oh my God!"

"They're probably talking to Him right about now." He said lightly, ironically. Why, he didn't know. "If St. Peter had the common decency, that is."

The edges of her fingers met his crown firmly, sharply.

"That's not funny, Yune!" she huffed. "They were probably torn limb from limb - by that FREAK we saw yesterday - and you're making jokes?"

"I am going with Tara on this one, Yune." Ron folded her arms. "It is not wise to speak ill of the dead, you know."

"True." He rubbed his head. "I'd apologize properly, but we've no time for this! Our able element's gone! We have to do something before they arrive!"

"Who is coming?" Robin asked.

"The Major, of course!" He replied. "His master weapon just launched, and he's bringing up here - to -this- city! He plans to use it against the ceremony later today!"

Robin dropped her crossed arms. "What?"

"You heard me." It was his turn to fold his arms, just a little more loosely. "It seems he's serious about halting the ceremony, even if it means trashing the Temple Mount in the process. I don't think I have to explain what repercussions that'll have on the rest of the world."

"Another World War…!" Tara's eyes were frightfully wide, in paralyzing awe of the mere concept of it.

He couldn't blame her. He took in a deep breath at the thought, letting it swirl around in his lungs for a moment. The simple idea, the planet once again consumed into another needless conflict, he didn't want to be a pedant for the messy details. Nope, he'd leave that for the eager historians once the planet gets past the whole mess should God let it be so.

Nihilism, my good man…. - Drazen's words rang true in his ears. -A pure and simple world of chaos and honor, where a man of my stature can finally be appreciated! What this slab of sand needs right now, if you ask me…. -

"An age of fear will truly begin!" Robin exclaimed. "Neighbor against neighbor, son against father, and father against son! And with The Russ back to The Primakov Doctrine…! If that accursed Major were to succeed, the whole world would surely come down on us!"

"With America taking point." He nodded. "They want Drazen so bad, they'll invade this country!"

"WHAT?" Robin's eyes went as wide as Tara's, even wider.

"They've set the bait." He replied. "I'm sure of it when I heard that a few trigger-happy GI's deployed here. When Drazen kills them, it'll give the administration all the reason it needs to send in a serious reaction force!"

"But they are our friends!" Robin protested uselessly, practically on the verge of -falling down- like Michael Douglas. "They have been our friends since 1948 - hell - our -only- real friend we have ever had! They cannot do this! THEY CANNOT DO THIS!"

"They can, and they probably will." He shook his head. "Politics make strange bedfellows. The foibles of politics and the march of time can turn friends into enemies, just as easily as the wind changes. It's ridiculous!"

"Have you been playing that game again, Yune?" Tara asked. "You know, the one about the nuclear robots and such?"

"A little bit." He shrugged. "But a lot of it makes sense, if you'd bother to watch the cut-scenes!"

"The world is coming to an end." Robin said. "What are we going to do?"

"Well…" his hand dipped back into his pocket, "I got to call Hershel again for that number. Tara, start up the car. If we're done here, I'd like to be back at the apartment within the hour."

"Who're you going to call?" She joked bitterly. "Ghostbusters?"

"Jerusalem's mayor." He slipped the phone back out. "I'm going to see if he can keep the people away, maybe even delay the ceremony. No promises though."

"What does Hershel want us to do?" She asked.

"She'd like us to cut our losses and head for Ben Gurion." He thumbed the buttons easily enough. Hershel's number blinked onto the read out, fleeting as he thumbed another button. The phone began to count the seconds as he put it to his face. "But there's too much at stake here to just quit. I hate to say it to you, Tara, but if it's my time to die, then it's my time. Drazen has to be stopped one way or another!"

"I know." She nodded somberly. "I realize that. So that's why I'm going with you."

A smooth ring blew into his ear.

"Tara—" he couldn't finish.

"Don't tell me to go home now!" She wasn't finished yet. "We've come to far! Yune, we started this together and we're going to finish it together, no matter what!"

Another ring.

"T—"

"No matter what, Yune." She put a hand to his shoulder, letting it deliberately slip to his one of his pecks. His heart beat against her palm rhythmically, picking up the pace when she pressed against him. "Like it or not, you're stuck with me till the end. Okay?"

Another ring.

"You are never alone when you have a friend, Yune." Robin agreed. "Better yet when that singular word becomes plural. Consider me a new recruit! Tell me what to do or what you need, and I will do it!"

Her hand slipped off his body when she turned around. "Are you sure, Robin? This isn't a game you know, far from it. There's a great chance that you could get killed!"

Another ring blew in his ear.

"Do you honestly think that my life would mean anything in this land, should the Major's plan come to pass?" Robin asked back, folding her arms again. "No, it would not. You may be visitors, but this is my land - my home! I cannot yet join the IDF, but if there is anything that I can do for you, then please - let me do something!"

"Very well then, Rob." Tara said. "Remember that it's your choice, and that no one coerced you into it."

Another ring. Where the hell was that tanned Barbie?

"I will." The dark girl nodded eagerly back. "I have always wanted to fight for my country someday! Though I am afraid that my relationship with Shia and the VSA would make it too troublesome."

"Right." She motioned for the door. "Could you start Sadie for us? The keys should still be in the ignition, if I remember right. Consider it your first task. You can even be our driver, if you want."

Another ring. It wouldn't be long till he heard that all day.

"Of course." Rob nodded again. The clicking of her thin heels followed her out the door, the jangling of the doorbell overwhelming it completely. "I will warm her up, and maybe slap some sense back into her LCD."

"Don't get your hopes up." She shrugged.

The door closed rather loudly with a bang. Robin strolled for the other side of the street, would have become another shadow in the night if it weren't for that button-down shirt. Tara's legs carried her over back to the bar, letting out a little huff as she hoisted herself back onto her stool.

Another ring - short and sweet as a static clatter assaulted his ear. A light grunt followed it, feminine with the range of an alto.

"This is Hershel." The woman replied deflated.

"Yeah…." He said in a drawl. The woman cleared her throat. "About that number again—?"

"Well, well, well…." Hershel replied smugly. "Look who came calling back?"

A grunt.

"You want to call him yourself?" He shot back. "Be my guest!"

"Good boy!" Hershel said. "I'll give you that number then. It's 4-161-677-889. Repeat, that number's 4-161-677-889."

His brow kinked. "That's an odd number."

"Ask him about it." The woman replied. "It's his number. He chose it after all. I don't know why though."

"There's no way he's going to believe anything I say." He replied. "Do you know that?"

"I know." She said. "We're not exactly on speaking terms, but tell him you're calling on behalf of me. He knows who I am."

"What if he doesn't believe me?"

"He will." She replied. "I'm sure of it. I know that big lug better than anyone else. He and I were in the IAF together. Saved his butt a couple of times during a training op, if I remember it right. In fact, I even called him just prior to your arrival in Prague about you guys, just in case this situation had come to pass."

"Okay." He nodded. "Good plan. Then what?"

"Tell him what I told you." She replied. "Issue the statement regarding to keeping the civilians away, and to delay the ceremony itself. Canceling it would be even better."

"Better not get your hopes up."

"I don't deal in hope or chance." She said sternly. "Just tell that wing-nut what I told you, and we'll have to hope for the best. As for the rest of you, get to Ben Gurion on the double. Your mission is over. There's no point keeping you any longer, go home. Maybe take that nice trip to Jupiter for me while you're at it. As for me, I'm going to dig in here and do what I can."

"Pray, while you're at it." He said. "It couldn't hurt."

"I intend to."

There came static at the other end, rattling and crisp - and then there was silence. His cheek bounced back when he removed the phone from his face, thumbing that button once more before it disappeared back into pocket, where the weight of it was the only trace of its presence. Tara spun on her stool toward him.

"What's up?" she asked.

"I got the number." He replied. "I was thinking about calling him now."

"Yune, it's a quarter till three in the morning!" she said. "He's probably asleep!"

"True."

The blonde scooped up her pistol on the bar, slapping that magazine home firmly with practiced ease, as though she'd been around guns all her life. She nestled the Baby Eagle into its nest as her hip, draping it over with the fabric of her skirt. With another huff, she hopped off the stool, her pumps clacking on the floor at once.

"If you absolutely must call him now," she said, "do it on the drive back to her place. I think Sadie's done enough warming up, and Robin looks bored."

"Okay then." He nodded. "But what about Rob's car?"

"Don't worry about it." Wavy hair swished gently when she shook her head. "Rob called over to me when you were on the phone again. She said she'll pick it up later."

"All right." He said. "I'll let the locals handle the rest of this mess. I hope Rob doesn't hate me after the police come knocking at her door."

"We'll worry about that later." She was already ahead of him, at the door in the midst of opening. "Come on! We got work to do!"

"Yes, my German princess—!"

"YUNE!" she growled back.

"Coming!"