Session Thirty Three

Villanova sat on her throne and smiled. She watched the two sweaty men below her fight each other in a drug-induced rage. Everything was going according to plan. Draugh had returned about fifteen minutes ago, giving her the sign that everything was set. Shortly before he'd come back, one of the Tiger lieutenant's girlfriends had gotten sick and he'd hurriedly escorted her out of the room. According to the security feed from Servas, the lieutenant was still pacing outside the bathroom waiting on his girl. At least he'd had the decency to look suitably embarrassed as he hastily escorted her out of the hall. But besides that minor distraction, Villanova had the Syndicates' undivided attention.

Or, rather, her demonstration had their undivided attention. She'd picked two men well-known for their strength and ruthlessness from her ranks. One man had been given Red Eye, the other Dragon's Eye and then the two had been set loose at each other. Villanova told the fighters beforehand not to hold back and the two men were doing an admirable job. Their fight was a wild rage of punches and kicks almost too fast to follow. Both men had taken hits throughout the fight and now they faced each other warily, circling again and wiping blood from their faces.

Villanova smiled as the Dragon's Eye champion suddenly rushed his opponent and threw him to the floor. The Red Eye champion struggled beneath the other man, but the Dragon's Eye champion was stronger. Villanova could see the raw rage in his eyes even from here. He held his opponent beneath him, hands at his throat as the Red Eye champion struggled to breathe, his punches and struggles growing weaker by the second. Many of the other Syndicate members were on their feet, watching the fight with rapt attention. In short order, the fight was over, the Red Eye champion lying motionless on the floor. Whether he was dead or alive was inconsequential. Villanova had proved her point. She let the Dragon's Eye champion parade around the ring for a while, raising his fists in triumph and roaring his anger at the crowd. She saw a few of the members in the front row seats draw back involuntarily.

Good, she smiled. They were afraid.

At a subtle nod, a few security guards stepped into the center of the room and removed the two fighters. It took three men to subdue the Dragon's Eye champion, and in the end, they tranquilized him and carried him out of the room.

Villanova stood, raising her hands for silence. When the room quieted and everyone was seated again, she spoke. "Ladies and Gentlemen, while the guards take our good fighters to the recovery rooms," she smiled, flashing white teeth, "I have one last display for you all today. As marvelous as the Dragon's Eye is, it's not my crowning achievement."

Murmurs ran through the crowd, and she saw a few Syndicate members wearing frowns or looks of skepticism.

"I know you all must be tiring of sitting in your seats, even with such exciting entertainment, so I hope you'll all give our next guest a standing welcome. But before I introduce him, I'd like to give a little history."

She heard a few groans from the crowd.

She laughed. "No, no," she held up her hands for silence again. "Nothing like what my esteemed historian gave you earlier. Just a quick reminder." She took a breath.

The room settled, all eyes on her.

"Fifteen years ago to the day," she began, "this Tower nearly fell. Some of you were here. Some of you watched. And some of you laughed. You all know what I'm talking about."

"The Death of the Dragon!" someone called out triumphantly. Villanova looked to the back of the room and locked eyes with the young Tiger lieutenant who'd slipped out with his girlfriend before. When had he come back in?

"Precisely," she said, giving him a hard stare. He gave her a lazy grin in return. She continued. "And you all know that this tower was reduced to a ruin and that the man responsible for this walked out of the tower and disappeared into legend."

"Spike is dead!" This time it was a Snake member who challenged her. "Everyone knows that!"

"But do they?" Villanova asked. "What if we all believed he was dead because that is what he wanted us to believe? What if he played us all for fools? Those of you old enough to remember will recall that he did this once before - to leave the very Syndicate he destroyed."

There were murmurs of agreement around the room as younger Syndicate members asked older members if this was true.

"Asheteko! Carevelli!" she called out to the Snake and Tiger leaders. "You remember this, do you not?"

The two men gave nods of agreement. "That's right," Carevelli said. "The bastard had a nasty habit of not staying dead."

"So then what are you saying, Villanova?" somebody else yelled.

"I'm saying," Villanova's smile widened as she paused for dramatic effect. "That I've aprehended Spike Spiegel."

Exclamations of outrage and disbelief erupted around the room. Villanova raised her hands for silence again. Eventually the room quieted. "Ladies and Gentleman, I have done the impossible. I caught the man who plagued the Syndicates with his impudence and betrayal for years. I finally brought him to justice and I will make him pay for his crimes against the Dragon. Today, the fifteenth anniversary of our tragic fall, will mark a rise to power that no one has ever seen before. My gathered friends, I present, for your viewing pleasure, the execution of none other than Spike Spiegel!"

Villanova pointed at the floor in the center of the seats, where moments ago the two drugged men fought. The lights in the ballroom dimmed until only the crystal chandelier high on the eighth floor shed it's light on the center of the room. The floor opened up, panels sliding back seamlessly to reveal a rising platform on which a single figure stood. A slim figure, wearing a dark blue suit with a yellow shirt and a thin black tie. He had his head down, but that shaggy mop of hair was as unmistakable as the confidence in his pose, despite the conditions. He held his hands in his pockets, his shoulders at a carefree angle, a gesture his former associates knew well. The platform rose to the level of the ballroom floor, and then eased to a stop. The figure atop it kept his feet effortlessly, swaying with the motion of the platform as it settled. The room was dead silent. There were no whispered questions, no accusations, nothing. No one spoke.

He stayed standing, head down, hands in his pockets. But there was something...different about the figure. Villanova cast a glance over at Draugh. He was staring hard at the figure too, as if something weren't quite right. No matter, Villanova dismissed it as nerves. Of course he would look a little different. Servas had altered his face earlier anyway. That was all. Villanova reached down beside her throne. She pulled a long, slender blade from the floor beside her. A blade that had as much Dragon history as the legend she was about to kill. She stood and walked to the edge of the platform, then descended the three short steps to the floor in a fluid motion, striding up to the figure.

She drew the sword with a long hiss, the whisper of steel and death.

She leveled the sword at the figure's neck. He seemed shorter than normal.

"Any last words for us, Mr. Spiegel?" she asked.

Then the figure raised her head. Those eyes! Those green eyes. Not brown. Not two subtly different shades.

"Yeah, just a few," Faye said, loud enough for the room to hear. She pulled the wig off and let it fall to the floor, her own black hair falling loose around her shoulders. "I'm not Spike."

And suddenly the entire room was on their feet, accusations and demands flying through the air like arrows.

"What are you trying to pull?"

"That's not Spike!"

"Who is this woman?"

"Are you saying Spike's a girl?!"

"Explain yourself, Villanova!"

"ENOUGH!" Villanova shouted over everyone. Her voice was clear and angry. The tip of her sword swayed back and forth in front of Faye's neck as rage shook her body. "Where is Mr. Spiegel, Ms. Valentine?" she demanded in a low voice.

Faye shrugged. "How should I know? He hasn't talked to me much since I sold him out."

"That's a damn lie and you know it. If you're here in his place, then you know where he is now." She lowered the point of the sword until it rested over Faye's heart. Faye gave it a wary eye.

"Far, far away from here," she said. "Somewhere you'll never find him, no matter how hard you look, Villanova. You can search the galaxy for the rest of your life and you'll never get Leon. He's too clever for that."

"Then is he also too clever for this, I wonder?" Villanova lunged with the sword, straight at Faye. Faye yelped in surprise and dodged to the side. But it was only the bulletproof vest that saved her life. The sword struck at an angle against one of the panels in the vest and slid off Faye's chest, tearing a gash in her jacket and shirt, but not through the vest itself.

"So, you came prepared for this?" Villanova raised an eyebrow.

Faye backed away.

Villanova prepared to lunge a second time when a voice suddenly shouted out from the eighth floor balcony.

"Villanova! Stop right there!"

Villanova paused, mid-lunge and looked upward, a smile spreading across her features. Faye face-palmed.

Because perched on the balcony railing like he didn't have a care in the world, was none other than the man of the evening. Leon Spiegel.