Hello, dear readers. This week I’m going to forego my usual rambling because I am neck deep in finishing the Paragons Trilogy and the deadlines are coming up behind me with sharp knives and a murderous gleam in their eyes. Instead, I’m going to give a little sneak peek at Unveiled: Paragons Book 3 in the form of the prologue and first two chapters. Please bear in mind I’ve only given these the most cursory of edits for this, so the final product might not be exactly what you see here. I intend to have that final product available May 1, 2016.

If you haven’t read books 1&2, here’s the most pertinent info; The Jasper Island incident is a supposed domestic terrorist attack that killed thousand of people on U.S. soil. Israel Trent and Erin Simms- our primary protagonists -are searching for the man responsible for that along with the rest of the members of The Sentry Group,  the secret organization they work for. Enjoy.

PROLOGUE

North of Caverne Lafleche,

Quebec, Canada,

October 3,

12:30 A.M.

“Holy shit,” Greg Bouchard said, “they’re saying the body count in that Jasper Island thing has topped twenty-five hundred.” The phone lit up a face barely out of its teens as he divided his time between reading the display and watching the beam from his clip-on flashlight bounce along the trail before him. It was a clear night with a full, round moon, but the canopy of thick trees overhead reduced the lunar glow to thick bands of pale luminescence that cut through the gaps in the foliage. Early winter patches of dusty snow glittered where the light struck them.

Owen Mercier unconsciously settled the pack on his shoulders for the twentieth time and looked back at his best friend. “They’ve got that place quarantined with a naval blockade. How does whoever’s writing that know how many dead there are?” His breath rolled around his head in a fist sized cloud as he spoke.

Greg shrugged. “I don’t know. Surely they’re holding press conferences or something. I mean, a terrorist attack like that, they would have to. Maybe this guy was at one of those.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to believe everything you read on the web.”

“Hey, it’s not like I’m reading a teenager’s blog. This is a legitimate news site.”

Owen smirked. “Right, because those are always reliable. Come on, man, you know as well as I that every bit of mass media is bought and paid for. Especially in America.”

“So? We’re not talking about elections or politics, Owen. This is terrorism that left behind a whole lot of dead people. You can’t just spin that.”

“Maybe not. If anybody can, though, it’s the Yanks.” He shifted his pack again and said, “Besides that, when does any government, anywhere, ever tell anybody the truth about anything. Give a person power and they suddenly turn into a magician who’s just talking to distract you while their cronies run the smoke and mirrors.”

Greg shook his head with a smile and shut down his phone, slipping it into his parka’s pocket. “Wow. A whole two years of University and you’re suddenly a political philosopher.”

“Yeah, well, all you need to do is pay attention, check your sources, and think for yourself. Politicians have to lie, it’s built into the system.”

“What does that mean? I thought-”

“Stop,” Owen said, his voice a sharp whisper, “shut off your light.”

Greg complied and then crouched down when he saw Owen do the same. “What is it?” Greg asked.

Owen pointed through the trees in reply.

Greg looked up. His eyes were still adjusting from staring at the glow on his phone but he could make out the lights through the trees. Even though they were distant, he could tell they were bright enough to cast shadows that moved across the open spaces in the forest.

“Is that a truck?” Greg asked.

In the dark, he could barely make out Owen’s nod. “Yeah, I think it is.”

“I thought you said this place was empty this time of night?”

“It should be. And unless I’m completely lost- which I’m not -they’re right on top of our descent point.”

Caverne Lafleche was the linchpin of an outdoor adventure park that operated a few kilometers south of where Greg and Owen were kneeling in the dark. They’d both been to the park many times and explored the public portions of the cavern system but knew that it extended far beyond what the tourists and thrill-seekers were allowed to see. Both of them had been avid spelunkers for most of their lives, so when they’d heard about this little known entrance into the restricted portions of the Lafleche system, they couldn’t resist the urge to check it out. The night approach was just to keep from getting into hot water with the authorities.

“You think it’s park security?” Greg asked.

“I doubt they have a use for a big panel truck like that in the middle of a forest. What are those guys doing?”

Greg moved his head slightly, trying to get a better view through the trees. More shadows were moving around now. Some were odd and low to the ground, like small horses or something. Greg pulled out his phone and swiped the screen a few times until he had the video function set for night recording. He tapped the record button and said, “What are those things?”

“I don’t know,” Owen said. “Let’s get closer and find out.”

“I don’t know, man. These could be drug dealers or something. Let’s just get out of here.”

“Like hell,” Owen said. “I didn’t hike all the way out here just to turn around and go home. If I can’t do the descent, I’m at least going home knowing why.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’ll just sneak over there. See what’s what.”

“Owen, dude, I don’t know about that-”

“Just stay here. Better chance of not getting seen if it’s just one of us, anyway. I’ll just get close enough to see and then we’re out of here.”

Greg started to protest further but Owen had already shrugged off his pack and was moving through the trees in a low crouch. Greg whispered a firm curse and watched his friend through the recording screen on his phone.

Owen was moving slowly, picking his steps as best he could in the heavy shadows. He had covered about half the distance when Greg noticed something odd and looked up from the screen and focused on the distant lights that had so captured his friends curiosity. They were still there, still shining in broken patches and irregular lines through the foliage but something was different. Greg studied the scene for a moment more before the realization rode into his mind on a wave of fear.

The shadows were missing. Before, large shadows had been moving around the truck’s lights doing whatever it was they were doing, but now they were gone. That meant something had pulled them away, gotten their attention. There wasn’t much that could do that in middle of the forest except maybe two guys who weren’t supposed to be there.

“Owen!” Greg said, his voice as low a hiss as he could make it and still be heard from that distance. “They know! We-”

He saw his friend’s body in silhouette as he turned back to Greg. Before he could call out again, though, another silhouette joined Owen’s, dropping from the trees in a rush of breaking branches and shredded leaves. It was huge, easily larger and wider than a man, and with too many limbs to be anything human. The thing’s shadow engulfed Owen’s and- for just a few seconds -the night was filled with the young man’s terrified screams.

Greg watched in horror, green light from the phone screen bathing his face in a pallor that seemed to highlight the sudden, terrified tremble that was vibrating up his neck and onto his face.

“O-Owen?” he whispered.

There was no reply. No sound at all, in fact. Even winter’s cold breeze seemed to be hiding.

“Owen?” he said, louder now.

Nothing.

Greg moved his trembling eyes back to the phone’s screen. He hoped it would give him a better view, but all it showed him was the blacks and greens of a deep forest bathed in broken moonlight.

Then, a subtle movement, right where he thought Owen had been. It looked like someone rising from the ground. It was just an outline, really, but Greg was sure he could make out the curve of neck and shoulders that you might see if someone were bowing their head to you.

“Owen!” he said, all pretense at stealth gone.

A head that wasn’t Owen’s- that wasn’t like anything Greg had ever seen -snapped up at the sound, but stayed low to the ground as though kneeling. Too many eyes glittered in black reflections through the phone’s screen set in a face that was roughly human shaped but longer and wider. The thing rose up then, bending at the waist until it was baring its naked chest and the flat, useless breasts that slapped against its wide sternum. It’s arms rose high, human in their shape, but ending in fingers that were too long came to too fine a point at the tips. Another set of limbs- long, hard, and segmented -snapped up below these as the monster’s jaw split into two sections and it screamed a challenging, bone numbing hiss over teeth that were narrow, long and clicked against one another in a wide maw that was large enough to cover a person’s head.

Greg screamed and bolted from his hiding place, sprinting through the trees on legs that were suddenly warm and damp, but he didn’t notice. His body shuddered with fear and adrenaline as he ran. Branches and icy air slapped at his face, but he didn’t care. He could hear it behind him, chasing him, coming for him.

Then, he heard it in the forest beside him.

And, then, in the trees above him.

He could hear all of them coming for him.

Terror filled his mind in a wave of panic and he ran harder, his legs burning with the effort. Greg wanted to scream, but he the chattering, gasping breaths that filled lungs and throat wouldn’t let him. He ran and harder and faster than he had ever run in his life, faster than he ever seen anyone run in his life and for one spark of an instant he thought he might- maybe -be fast enough to get away.

That spark faded and died, though, when he spotted the tall silhouette step out from the shadows just ahead and to his right. The lean shadow’s arm lashed out as Greg passed, too fast and too strong to avoid, and Greg felt his head snap back from the blow. His feet left the ground and pain bloomed through his face and neck as he actually flipped in the air and came down face first on the cold forest floor. The blow was hard enough to stun him and for one blissful moment he forget about the danger he was in. As his breath and senses returned to him, though, it was followed immediately by flood of cold fear. He lifted his trembling head and looked up at the man that was standing over him.

He was tall, well over six feet, and the patch of moonlight he was standing in showed Greg a face that was rough and cold. Tribal style tattoos covered the right side of the man’s face and surrounded the eye-patch he wore over the eye on that side. His head was clean shaved and uncovered, even in the frost of early winter. There was something on the center of his forehead- a wound? Scars? Greg couldn’t tell. When the man spoke, it was with a voice that seemed right at home in the cold.

“Well, don’t you just have the shittiest luck.”

Greg knew that face, but he couldn’t recall from where. Maybe, if he could talk to the guy, he could get out of this, but he needed to know why he was familiar. For a brief instant, he started to reach for his phone, then realized it was gone. Instead, he said, “I’ve seen you someplace.”

A smile blinked across the man’s lips without ever reaching his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been on television a few times.”

A chorus of clicks started echoing from the dark. The trees shuddered and pines needles fell like rain over Greg and the tall man. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving a hand in irritation at the sound. “It’s not like I can talk to you freaks, right? Gimme a minute.”

Greg watched in confusion as the tall man gave a resigned sigh and knelt down in front of him. “Even I need a conversation every now and then, y’know? These guys don’t understand that anymore.”

Greg’s breath was starting to come in panicked gasps again. “Mister,” he said, his breath punctuating the words. “We need to go. We need to run.”

That smile came again, more genuine this time. “What? From these freaks? Naw, they’re with me. I’ll be fine.”

A splinter of confusion crept through Greg’s terror. “With you? How? What are they?”

This time the smile crept over his whole face and brought a soft laugh with it. The sound was chilling, like the laugh of a man contemplating things no sane person should. The tall man kept smiling as he stood and said, “Those? Those are the future, man.”

Greg was about to ask what he meant when the man said, “Take him. Don’t forget his friend’s backpack.”

The horrors came for Greg then; out of the shadows, dropping from the trees, jumping farther than anything that size had a right to and Greg screamed so hard he tasted blood on his tongue as they swarmed over him.

Off to one side, Carmine Screed watched and softly laughed.

CHAPTER 1

Twin Pacific Towers,

Seattle, Washington,

March 11,

11:15 P.M.

“Secure that vehicle!” Security Supervisor Wallace shouted. His words echoed through the sparsely lit parking garage and bounced across the underground surfaces with no rhyme or reason. The dozen security agents that were scurrying about loading the twin panels trucks added to the melange of echoes and kept moving as though he hadn’t spoken. Wallace trusted these men; knew they would get the job done, but also had been at his job long enough to know that a little extra motivation from the man in charge never hurt.

He walked among them, his pistol drawn and ready like he was prepared to put down anyone that disobeyed him. He wouldn’t, of course, since he was already short on troops and was a man of particular standards who abhorred waste and inefficiency. These were highly trained men, after all, and not easily replaced.

“Cranston,” he said to a passing man. “What’s left?”

Wallace’s second in command stopped and glanced at a narrow screen that was secured to his forearm by heavy black straps. “We’ve got the relevant research data,” he said. “There’s a couple more pieces of vital equipment that we can’t leave behind but the men are getting them on the elevator now. We should be rolling in less that ten minutes.”

“Make it less that seven,” Wallace said, his face hard with worry. “We need to be gone before they get here. What about the test subjects?”

“I’ve got two shooters ready to put them down just as soon as the equipment and data are clear. They should be able to get them all in less than a minute.”

Wallace nodded. “Good. Get it done and let’s get rolling.”

“It’s them, isn’t it?” Cranston asked. Wallace could just make out the other man’s eyes on the other side of the lightly tinted combat goggles and he saw a measure of fear there that he didn’t like.

Wallace swallowed his own consternation and tried to put steel in his voice. “Won’t matter if we’re gone, Chris. Get these men moving.”

Cranston responded with a sharp, “Yes, sir!” and started barking orders at the men.

Wallace turned and headed for the nearest truck, intent on climbing up onto the vehicle’s running boards to get a better view of the progress. Both doors were standing open and he pushed the driver’s side door closed to pull himself up onto the runner. That’s when he saw the man in black and everything went wrong.

The man was tall- easily topping six feet -and dressed in a combat suit that was a solid matte black and covered every inch of his frame. He was wearing a long coat with a hood that covered his head but did little to hide his face. Not that he needed it, the black outfit included a full face ballistic mask whose lines were broken only by a pair of sleek combat lenses that stared down at Wallace.

Wallace had heard the reports of the one they called Revenant, seen the blurry videos, but the reality of it was far more striking that he had thought it would be. Still, he shouted, “Contact!” and tried to snap his sidearm up at the man’s masked face. He barely made it half way before the newcomer grabbed his wrist and squeezed so hard that Wallace felt his wrist bones crunch under the pressure. Even though he tried hard not to, Wallace cried out at the searing pain that shot up his arm. His pistol clattered to the concrete and Wallace felt himself lifted into the air by a blow that sent him flying backwards on wings of breathless agony. He hit the concrete hard. Despite the impact, though, his years of command training forced his eyes up to watch his men’s response.

They had all dropped what they were doing and pulled their weapons. Pistols, sub-guns, and even a couple of shotguns sent a wall of death towards the man in black. Anyone caught in that barrage would have been shredded into bloody confetti; anyone, that was, but this man.

The man in black lowered his head, crossed his arms to cover his face, and charged into the fusillade like a bull. He moved without stopping, only occasionally jerking this way or that as a bullet scored a particularly solid hit, and when he reached the nearest shooter, one had lashed out in a blur and snatched the submachine gun from he man’s hand so fast that he man didn’t even realize he was unarmed until the butt of the weapon smashed into his face and shattered his nose to nothing but splintered bone.

Wallace saw his man go down and instinctively tried to rise, to go to his trooper’s side, but it was no good. His chest was a mass of pain and his wrist flopped loosely when he moved. He watched in helpless misery as the man in black moved through his men like a wrecking ball. Twice he saw bodies come flying over his head to land awkwardly on the concrete behind him. Guns roared, men screamed, and the man in black just kept moving through them snapping bones and throwing men around like they were a child’s playthings. It only lasted a minute or so and was punctuated by the sight of a shotgun- it’s barrel twisted into a warped, useless length of metal – sliding across the garage floor. The ruined weapon came to a stop a few feet from Wallace’s eyes and he looked up as the man in black walked towards him with careful deliberate strides. He stopped by the shotgun and give his coat a shake, like a man throwing water from a raincoat, but instead of cool drops of water, Wallace heard the sound of small pieces of metal hitting the floor.

He looked up at the taller man and said, “We don’t know where he is.”

The man in black didn’t move, didn’t respond.

“The last contact we had with him was Jasper Island. It’s all in the intel. You won this one. You don’t need to to kill anyone else.”

The black clad head turned slightly, as though surveying they men that he had laid low. He said nothing.

“What the hell did he do to you?” Wallace asked, his curiosity genuine.

The man in black’s foot lashed out and caught Wallace just below his left temple and the world went dark.

Israel Trent stood over Security Supervisor Wallace a moment longer, waiting to see if he was really unconscious or just faking it. The mask in his combat suit obscured his enhanced senses a little, but it didn’t take long to determine that the man was out for the count. He bent down and searched through Wallace’s pockets until he found a white, plastic security badge. He stood up and examined the card to make sure it wasn’t damaged. Satisfied, he activated the small communications device that was secured under his mask just behind his right ear. He spoke as he walked back towards the trucks.

“Overwatch, this is Revenant,” he said, using his new call sign. “Garage is secure. Send in asset extraction for the prisoners and these trucks. They were trying to bug out with them so it’s something we’ll probably want to see. How’s our eyesight?”

“20-20, Revenant. Runaway has planted the seed and is working down to you.” The voice belonged to Michelle Brandt, one of the genius twin sisters that operated the Sentry Group’s scientific wing. Michelle was a world class engineer and physicist who could do things with computers that the average computer scientist would consider impossible. The ‘seed’ she referred to was an intrusion module that would give Michelle unfettered access to the building’s computers and operational systems.

“I’d hardly call this work,” another female voice said. “There’s nobody up here.”

“Count your blessings and quick-clear it anyway,” Overwatch said. “Rendezvous with Revenant in the garage. The Sub-basement is on an independent system from the rest of the building so I don’t know what’s happening down there.”

Israel ground his teeth together beneath his face mask. The hunger was a distant whisper at the moment, mostly thanks to the damage that the combat suit had absorbed in the fight. If his body had had to repair all those bullet wounds, he’d be aching with the need for fresh protein.

“What’s your take on the sub-basement, Overwatch?”

“I’ve got no eyes or ears down there, but it’s drawing power and seems to be ventilated. If there’s anything alive left in the building, it’s in that sub-basement.”

Israel nodded and studied the security pass he’d taken off the last guard. “Copy that. I’ve secured access and am headed down.”

“Negative, Revenant,” Overwatch said. “Wait for Runaway.”

“She can catch up,” Israel growled. “Or not. I’m going in.”

“I said stand down, Revenant! Dammit, don’t do this again!”

“Sorry, Overwatch. I’m proceeding.”

“Isre…” Runaway started, then corrected, “I mean, Revenant; Stay there, I can be there in a few seconds-”

Israel reached up and tapped the comm, cutting the power and silencing his allies. He walked towards the elevator only stopping long enough to pick up one of the shotguns that was lying next to an unconscious guard’s unaturally bent wrist. It was equipped with a small side saddle of ammunition on the stock and Israel used all but two of the shells to reload the weapon. Satisifed, he stepped to the elevator and swiped his purloined key card through the reader.

A few seconds later, the doors opened and he stepped onto the elevator. The set up was like many he’d seen in the past few months; a standard bank of elevator buttons but with one or two that could only be accessed by swiping a security card through a reader next to the isolated buttons. Israel swiped the card and pressed the button for the single secured floor.

As the doors slid closed he muttered, “Damn if these assholes don’t just love their underground lairs.”

CHAPTER 2

The doors opened onto a short hallway that was well lit with lines of LED lamps that were spaced in close intervals along each wall. The corridor was wide and littered with the remnants of an office that had been evacuated with more haste than thoroughness in mind. Papers were scattered about the floor, the half dozen doors that lined the walls were standing open, and there was an office chair half exposed in one of them. Israel could hear soft hiss of the air conditioning and something else, too. The second sound was softer , but more pronounced and somehow intermittent.

He moved down the corridor with silent, measured steps. As he grew closer to the source of the second sound, the familiar scent of blood, viscera, and gun-smoke filtered through his face mask and into his nostrils. Israel inhaled deeply and felt the smallest quiver of hunger at the aroma. He tightened both his jaw and his grip on the shotgun and swung into an open set of double doors that was labeled “Main Laboratory”.

The room was large and sunken down another three feet or so from the hallway. A steel platform large enough for four or five people overlooked the rest of the room and the four steps leading down to the laboratory floor. Twin examination tables were set to one side with dark stains on the stainless steel surfaces and thick, equally stained straps dangling from the head feet and sides. Computers and other lab equipment he didn’t recognize were on the wall opposite the tables. The back wall was a series of a dozen or so doors that seemed to be operated by key card. Three of them stood open and the small cells beyond were visible. In one of them, Israel could see the remains of something that was the size of a man but far too hairy to be one. Blood ran in think lines from the cell onto the lab floor and mixed with the blood from the other two bodies in the room,.

They were dressed like the rest of the security team, but Israel had to look closely to be sure. There clothes and the flesh beneath were so torn and bloodied that they were nearly unrecognizable. One man’s face was slashed so badly that Israel could see the protruding cheekbone beneath his bloody skin. Eyes stared wide and unending at the ceiling. Their weapons lay near to hand bit it didn’t look like they had gotten much use out of them.

Israel carefully descended the stairs and looked around for whatever it was that had done this, whatever it was they had let out of those cells. He stepped onto the lab floor and slowly approached the nearest of the fallen security men. He met the dead eyes and tried to ignore them.

A sound then- the same one he had followed from the hallway -low and hoarse, like a soft, lingering snore. Israel took a second to pinpoint the source and his eyes drifted towards the ceiling.

At first all he could see was the dull, industrial gray that was painted over the concrete ceiling, duct work, and pipes that made up the room’s overhead space. Then, the things moved. There were two of them and they suddenly shifted colors right before Israel’s eyes from the uniform gray to a mottled and white and sickly green. They were naked, their humanoid bodies covered in scales and bony protrusions that ran in short spikes down the backs of their arms and crowned their head like vertical halos. Short, thick tales hung from their lower backs. Their eyes were red with black, reptilian slits for pupils and when they hissed at him, it was in that same, soft snoring sound that he had led him to this room. Their faces were more reptile than man with flattened noses and slightly mouths that showed narrow, flicking tongues and teeth like translucent needles.

Israel had just enough time to look them both in the eyes before they dropped from the ceiling and rolled their bodies in the air with inhuman agility so that they landed on their feet and came at him, bloodstained claws extending for his throat from thick fingers, rough fingers.

Israel dropped and rolled at a forty five degree angle from the attack, ducking under the slashing claws and snapping teeth. He came up on one knee and, rather than taking the second to stand, spun on that knee and took aim with his weapon. The shotgun bucked twice in his hand and- much to his surprise -missed completely.

The creature he had been aiming for had hit the floor and immediately launched itself into the air again to latch onto one of the ceiling pipes like some kind of hideous, scaled ape. Israel’s shots had blasted through the space where the monster had been and struck one of the locks beside the remaining cell doors. Sparks and smoke erupted from the wall and suddenly all the lights in the sub-basement turned a brilliant, strobing red.

“Unauthorized specimen release” a computerized voice said over hidden speakers, “Thermal sterilization in thirty seconds… twenty-nine seconds… twenty-eight seconds…”

Israel had just enough time to see the door with the shotgun blasted lock start to swing open to reveal something big and covered in coarse fur before the two lizard things were on him.

The first of them grabbed the shot gun and forced the barrel upwards before Israel could get off another blast. The second pounced on him and drove him backwards, bending him onto his back and pinning one leg under him. Israel roared as he felt talons puncture the Kevlar in his combat suit and tear into his flesh. There was no pain, but he felt a wave of frustration as he saw the reptile thing pull back its claw and send tiny lines of Israel’s thin, gray, infectious blood sailing through the lab.

He turned his attention from the creature than was on top of him and focused on the one trying to pull the shotgun from his grip. Though his leverage was nearly non-existent, Israel jerked the shotgun away with all the strength he could muster. Though it managed to maintain its hold, the sudden surge of strength pulled the creature off balance and down with the barrel as Israel shoved it into the second monster’s ribcage. He gave the trigger three fast squeezes and the thing that was in top of him fell away in a limp heap.

“…twenty seconds…”

The creature that had been holding the barrel howled its strange, hissing snore and stepped away, reptile tongue snaking out to lick at its burned palms.

Israel was trying to get his bent leg out from under him so that he could stand when suddenly a black, thick furred hand the size of a baseball catcher’s mitt wrapped around his weapon and yanked it away like it was a toy and Israel was an unruly toddler. A second hand- identical to the first -grabbed a handful of Israel’s combat suit and the Sentry Group agent suddenly found himself flying through the air. He collided with another of the closed cell doors and he heard something inside snarl as he fell to the floor.

“…twelve seconds…”

Israel was on his feet almost as soon as he hit the floor. The reptile thing was the faster of his two attackers and it reached him first, claws extended and mouth open to coming at his throat. Israel blocked the clawed hand with his left forearm and punched the lizard-man in the face with a solid right hook. The thing staggered backwards near senseless and Israel raised his leg and kicked it straight in the sternum hard enough to collapse its ribcage and send it flying over the tables of lab equipment and into the computers beyond.

“…seven seconds…”

He didn’t pause to savor the victory and spun to face the owner of the massive hands. The thing was huge- easily eight feet tall -and looked like a bear that had somehow mated with a porcupine. It came at him with spines and teeth bristling and Israel rolled to one side narrowly avoiding the thing’s undoubtedly fatal embrace.

“…five seconds…”

Israel came up next to one of the dead security men’s corpse and snatched up the man’s fallen weapon. It was a compact submachine gun and felt as though the clip was near to full. Israel pointed it at the furred behemoth and held down the trigger. The room was filled with the rapid explosions of automatic gunfire. He saw the thing’s fur ripple with impacts and it staggered backwards. There was sudden silence as the weapon emptied its clip. The furred thing roared and took a step towards Israel.

“…three seconds…”

Israel looked up at the lab’s entrance and saw a steel security shutter begin a rapid decent from the top of the door frame. He sprang up and started for the door but the bear-thing whipped out its massive paw and Israel felt his leading leg slip out from under him as a trio of spines wedged themselves into the Kevlar hard enough to throw him off balance. He met the thing’s eyes as the steel shutter clattered into place.

“…one second. Thermal sterilization in progress.”

There was a hissing sound and the stink of combustible chemicals as a fine mist filled the air. Israel looked at the monster looming over him and said, “Well, screw you, too.”

He waited for the rush of ignition, the searing heat, and then the oblivion of nonexistence. Instead, he felt a hand touch his shoulder and the sudden rush of cold night air.

They appeared on the roof of the Twin Pacific Towers as the lab forty stories below erupted into a fireball that was hot enough to cremate anything organic in a matter of seconds. Israel was still on the ground and the woman who had brought them there turned her back and stepped away from him. She tapped the comm unit that was secured to her right ear with a short, angry stab.

“Overwatch, this is Runaway, I have the assh… I mean, I have Revenant. He seems to be okay.” She listened for a minute and then said, “Copy that. The lab was in meltdown when we left so I don’t know how much good it will do you.” Another moment listening. “Don’t sweat that, Overwatch. I’ll get us back to base. You and the rest head out when you’re ready, don’t wait for us.” Erin Simms took a steadying breath to cool the frustration steaming through her before she turned to face Israel.

There was enough light on the roof to see that he had removed his hood and mask and was busy pulling the last of some kind of short, narrow spear from his leg. He tossed it in a pile with two others like and climbed to his feet, showing no signs of discomfort what so ever.

“Suit still needs work,” he grumbled. “One of those things managed to pierce it and splashed blood into the lab. The interior membrane doesn’t seal fast enough.”

Erin stared hard at him with her jaw clenched.

“When we get back to Silversky,” Israel said, “I’ll get Stone to help me-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Erin said, her voice low and cold. “You wanna die? Is that it? Because, brother, you came damned close just now.”

“I’m already dead, remember? World’s only Paragon Necrophage?”

“You know what I mean, Israel.”

They stood like that for nearly a minute; Erin staring, Israel with his eyes cast down at the ballistic mask in his hands, neither speaking. A heavy mist that was just thick enough to be called rain blew around them in cold eddies.

“Six months, Erin. It’s been six months since that bastard took my dad and I am no closer to finding him now than I was then.”

“Yeah, I know, Izzy, I was with you when we got the video, remember?”

“Yes, I remember!” Israel said, his fists tightened around the mask and it cracked and broke like dry cord wood. “I remember every damn second of that video! But it’s been six months and we’ve raided…what? Eight, ten, of these damn Onyx facilities and not one of them had a lead to finding Carmine! Every minute that passes is one more minute that the trail gets colder and he gets further away!”

“I know! But I also know that going off by yourself like you just did is only going to get you deader than you already are! Then where’s your revenge going to be?”

“Justice, not revenge!”

“Whatever! That guy’s killed thousands of people, Israel, not just your dad. He’s going to get what he’s got coming and if I’ve got anything to say about it you’ll be the one that delivers it, but you can’t do that if you’re dead, you stubborn jackass!”

Israel opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it when he met her blazing eyes. Rain dripped from their faces- his dark and hers pale -before he spoke again. “How’d you get into that lab, anyway? You couldn’t see down there.”

“Thank Michelle,” Erin said, the intensity slowing fading from her eyes. “When you swiped that badge to get in, it opened some kind of digital port or something that she could access through the Seed. She tried to explain it but all I heard was technobabble. She hacked it, got me downstairs just as that security shutter was closing. Another two seconds and I wouldn’t have been able to see into that room to ‘port us out. You very nearly became a charcoal briquette, Izzy. It was pure luck I made it in. Why didn’t you wait for me?”

Israel stared at her, not having an answer that could justify such a gross error on his part. Finally, he shrugged and said, “I guess I lost it a little. It was stupid.”

“Yeah, it was, and running off on your own is becoming too much of a habit. I get why you keep to yourself back at the estate, but you can’t be doing this shit on mission, Israel. I need my partner.”

Israel was quiet again, and then a small, faint smile curved his lips. “When did you suddenly become the voice of responsibility and reason?”

“The same time my jackass best friend starting going all Dark Knight on me.”

Israel nodded. After another moment he said, “It’s a combat isolation suit. Not a costume.”

Erin snorted. “Dude, please. That is so totally a costume.”

“No, it’s not. It’s to keep me from bleeding all over the place.”

“It’s got a mask,” Erin said. She glanced down at the remains of the ballistic mask and said, “Well, it used to have a mask.” She walked over and put a hand on Israel’s shoulder. “Ready?” she asked.

He nodded and heartbeat later they had vanished.

And there you have it. If this is your first exposure to the Veiled World and you’d like to find out what sort of craziness brought our heroes to this place in their lives, I hope you’ll click the link below and check out my Amazon offerings. If not, I hope you enjoyed it anyway.

Oh, and because I know there’s at least a couple of people that will call me on this, I wrote that scene before they started calling Felicity ‘Overwatch’ on Arrow. Just sayin’.

Have a great week and thanks for reading.

    THE DARKWALKER’S DEN FACEBOOK GROUP