Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
Sixteen fighters contending for leadership of the Temple. Sixteen fighters, three rounds of elimination matches and one final battle… designed as a match to the death. Only one contender would leave the battleground alive.
A mortal combat not just for the participants: The very future of the Temple itself was at stake. Depending on who would win it could either become a training ground for aspiring terrorists, a headquarter for Borneo's up and rising drug cartel or it could return to its old ways and become a haven again for those who wanted to turn a fresh leaf.
Eva Khan knew exactly why she was taking part: Master Ryuu had saved her father, had brought him to his senses, had turned him into the wonderful man he had been… without Ryuu, without the temple he had built, she most likely would have never come into being. The old Vincent Khan would have given his girlfriend money to get an abortion at the news of her pregnancy. The Vincent Khan who had spent a year in the Temple decided to take responsibility for his actions and became the best father one could think of.
She was fiercely determined to save Ryuu's legacy. Unfortunately in order to do so she had to become a murderer.
Unbeknownst to her, however, a couple of people down by the lake where the first round of elimination matches would take place, were working very hard to prevent exactly that.
… … …
Crocodiles are ambush hunters. They hide in the shadows, motionless, watching and waiting. Zoos often put up signs along the lines of "Despite the rather tranquil impression they make, our crocodiles are neither mockups nor doped. They're just biding their time till they get hold of the next foolish visitor who wants to show off in front of his girlfriend. Bitten off limbs are NOT cool." Some species even attack sharks when the opportunity presents itself.
The rules of the first elimination round were simple enough – the matches were to take place on bateaus floating in the middle of the lake. No railing, just a square of wood in the water. Both fighters would be equipped with Kendo sticks. The sole aim of the confrontation was to somehow cause the opponent to fall off the platform. Once you hit the water you were out. End of story.
To make sure that only the fighter's participation and not also his life would end, the team had come up with a simple but rather time- and energy-consuming solution – they'd catch all crocodiles inhabiting the lake, keep them confined for a couple of hours and then release them again once that part of the competition was over.
Guerrero had suggested simply shooting the crocodiles and Winston had, given the fact that time was pressing, seconded that. Ames had reluctantly agreed with this, admittedly, pretty brutal approach, too, seeing no other option. Chance and Ilsa, however, had joined forces, convinced Ames to rethink her opinion and thus Operation Catch the Croc it was.
Its streamlined body allows the crocodile to plough forward swiftly. What makes it even faster is the ability to tuck its feet to the side while swimming. In addition to that the webbed feet enable the animal to make fast turns and sudden moves. Their jaws can bite down with immense force, over five thousand pounds per square inch, while a great white shark only manages four hundred pounds.
Interestingly, though, the jaws are opened by a rather weak set of muscles. It is indeed possible to actually tape their jaws or hold them shut with large elastic straps, as it is sometimes shown in Hollywood movies. Once they can't move their mouths, they are rather controllable.
The problem was to get them into that state…
At the end of the day they were horribly tired, scratched, bruised and altogether fed up. Fourteen sullen crocodiles were safely roaming the pen behind the team's secret headquarter in the abandoned village near the temple. Ames had a deep cut on her thigh that she was sure would leave a scar. She vowed to buy a crocodile skin leather handbag first thing she got back to San Francisco.
… … …
Guerrero tended to Ames' wound since it required stitches. When he afterwards entered the tent he was sharing with Ilsa, she was sitting cross-legged on a mat on the ground, applying some sort of moisturizing lotion to her bare arms in long strokes.
"Are you going to tell me what the story behind the tattoos is or are you planning to keep me in the dark forever?", she asked in the old British-with-a- capital-B" tone of voice that she had used so much back when they had started working together. Nowadays, like right now for example, she mostly used it in a sort of mocking sense.
Guerrero, however, didn't feel like getting mocked. Not here, in Borneo, where so much began.
"Are you sure you want to know, boss?", he asked, kneeling down behind her.
His voice, devoid of all humor, sent a shiver down her spine. That was his killer voice, the one he used to scare people… or to make clear to them that the tackle box with all its hooks, metal cutters and forceps wasn't just for show.
Guerrero wrapped an arm around Ilsa's upper chest. His hand, resting so close to her neck, was empty, but she recognized the gesture – if he had a knife, the position would be perfect to cut her throat.
His embrace wasn't gentle. She could feel his hard muscles against her body. Should she struggle he'd keep her in place like a bench vise.
Of course Ilsa knew better than to struggle.
He lowered his face to her ear, so close, his beard was scratching against her lobe as he spoke. And then he told her. The whole story, beginning with the order from the Old Man and ending with Ryuu's death. There was no need for adding the epilogue where they had gotten the tattoos… she could draw her own conclusions regarding their meaning now.
When he fell silent, Ilsa slightly turned her head and kissed his hand.